#he knows they need alliances and not the ones his dad picked cos his dad sucks.

[azmenka]

wild concept tho: Theon comes home to sell the alliance to Robb and Balon turns it down but Maron supports it . . .

[larathia]

Voltron: World of Dreams

Yeah, it's a reboot, yeah I dreamed it - and it was called "world of dreams" even in my dream which was ...weird?

In my dream, I was browsing AO3 for voltron fics (the whole franchise, thanks, not just LD) and came across a fic set in 'WOD'. Since I couldn't figure out which iteration of the show that was, I went and looked it up.

I then got stuck somehow in an interactive hologram of episode one of "world of dreams". I'll spare you most of it, because at this point it skipped around and got dream jumbled and I'm basically putting the pieces back together. 'Cos even in my dream, I remembered that every new Voltron is both a remix and a reboot, and I was happily looking for where they'd stuck familiar elements.

I did not get to see all five lions, sadly. It was just episode one, and so I didn't get to see Green or Yellow.

The story began with Keith. In this iteration he was bright, normal-seeming. I'd have to say very much his DOU version at least on the surface. A bit younger than his DOU version though. Here he was a survivalist in the New England forests, but by choice and inclination. His family life seemed normalish at first glance - his mother was even wealthy, albeit obnoxious - a renowned geneticist and lecturer. He didn't have much contact with his dad, but it was where he'd picked up the love of handling survival situations, and his combat skills.

(Plot point: His dad was actually a seriously dangerous fringe type, who'd married his mother specifically because he knew she'd create a designer baby and he wanted some veeeeery specific Bad News elements added in. Keith didn't know it but he'd been bred specifically to be a kind of human time bomb that would one day go berserk and traitorous - aka Here Is Where The Kuron Element Went)

Next introduced was Allura - they were foregoing the whole "humans haven't met aliens yet" idea this time, which was new. Allura was still a princess, the Alteans were all just fine thank you, and she was a mage that used ...sort of wrought metal shapes to create spells. She was in an arranged marriage betrothal with Keith, for reasons of planetary politics, but they barely knew each other. Keith was prone to (in a well meaning way) sticking his foot in his mouth, and Allura was very prickly in a solid "i don't know if these humans are worth it" way. I was laughing while I watched this, because Keith/Allura is endgame in every iteration but LD and I was so there to see how this version would go.

(Plot point: Again, Keith's dad had a hand in this arranged betrothal, and it was very much a factor in him getting with Keith's mom in the first place.)

You can't have a Voltron without lions, of course. In this version, there's only one human pilot. The rest start the show as aliens (kind of like in the backstory of LD). Shiro was the human pilot of the Black Lion, and he'd been the Black Lion's pilot for several years at story start. That the lone human was also the leader of the Voltron pilots was a huge deal - it brought a great deal of prestige to Earth and to humanity as a whole within the galactic alliance, and thus it was a situation that many factions of humanity Very Much wanted to see continue.

This is where LD!Keith's mental issues went, because man. This Shiro was battle-hardened, socially isolated, and "memorial day vietnam war movie marathon" levels of angry. He was still Shiro/Sven at heart, which meant there was a genuinely good/brave/kind soul in there, but he'd been the lone human among aliens for years, fighting the galra for years, and while it was all very necessary and heroic and all, the man also direly needed company and/or a long vacation on a tropical island with a team of therapists on call. (In my dream I was nodding along - so Shiro wouldn't be a long term element, like most of the franchise, and he'd be Keith's partner/mentor for a little while, yep that checks, tragic figure, yep check check...)

(Plot point: Again, this tied back to Keith's dad - Keith's 'programming' was intended to make him the ideal looking replacement for Shiro. The idea was to make Keith an ideal subordinate for Shiro, so that Shiro would choose him to take over Black, and then hell could be properly Let Loose. And meantime Keith would fly Red. Don't ask me what was up with the alien currently flying Red, the dream didn't get that far, but I'd assume Keith's Dad's cabal would have the poor thing shot to create an opening.)

[lady-ofroses]

something else to talk about chapter 2

in which cordelia is an oscar winning actress, anna is an entrepreneur and the author of a popular lifestyle blog, ariadne is a model and owner of a famous winery, matthew helps write anna’s lifestyle blog and is a highly sought out fashion designer, james is a singer and occasional actor, lucie is a famous author, thomas and alastair both have their own separate talk shows, christopher is bill nye 2.0, jesse is director and producer, and grace is a model

thank you to the wondrous @sleepy-sendhelp​ for helping me come up with this and proofreading i could not have done this without you!

you can read chapter one here!

hope you enjoy!

When James opened the door to his penthouse he was not expecting to see Cordelia Carstairs, standing in all of her crimson-haired glory. He certainly wasn’t expecting the words: “be my fake boyfriend” to leave her mouth.

But, in spite of that, he invited her in. Offered her a glass of water and waited for her to explain. She was sitting now on his plush gray couch, water in hand, taking a long sip of water and James made his way over to the couch. Of course, he knew what had happened with her father, it was all over the news. 

He was also scared of the impact it would have on his career since it was his first role ever. His career as part of the band he was in with Matthew, Christopher, and Thomas, The Merry Thieves, had given him his start as a musician and now his career as a solo artist had cemented his future for the next five years. But he knew that if this movie failed, he would forever be known as “that singer that tried (and failed) acting” and he didn’t want that. He also knew that this movie was a huge thing for Lucie and he could not risk ruining that.

He turned to face her, finally ready to listen to whatever thought process brought her to this insane idea of fake dating. He didn’t know Cordelia very well. Other than the fact that she was Lucie’s best friend and that they were co-workers, they had never spent any one-on-one time, unless it was to practice their “chemistry” for the movie.

Cordelia was looking at him now. She placed the glass of water onto the wooden coffee table and tucked a strand of her garnet hair. “I feel like I should elaborate now,” she said as she chuckled awkwardly, “About the whole ‘fake dating’ thing.”

“Yes, I think that would be quite helpful,” he replied, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he was. After his relationship with Grace, he wasn’t really in the mood to date somebody else, even though his publicist had told him multiple times that he had to date someone else so that he wouldn’t look like he was still pining after Grace and also make him win the date race.

“So you probably already know about my dad,” she paused and took a shaky inhale. “And that’s going to cause ticket sales to drop. My plan is... to give them something else to talk about, for example, a new romance.” She gestured towards him and looked him straight in the eye. “And you also care about the ticket sales and with the whole Grace thing, well... we could... you know...”

“Fake date?” James asked. Listening to her now it did seem logical even though it was a little unorthodox. This could be the perfect way for James to make the public happy but be happy himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cordelia clench her hands into fists. 

Dating someone was out of the question for James. He had so much going on that he didn’t want to have to deal with another person, especially if that relationship would end up like his relationship with Grace had. He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to handle the heartbreak that came from breakups and he also knew that he wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend. He looked back at Cordelia, she sat with her arms crossed over her chest, one of her fingers tapping impatiently on her elbow. He could feel her anxiety, the waves of it reaching him, almost as if they were beckoning him to respond faster.

She stood sharply and began walking towards the door. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob. “Never mind, it was a stupid idea. I’ll see you tomorrow, James.” She twisted the doorknob and opened the door. James desperately reached his hand out to her. 

“Wait!” he called out. She stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. He looked her in her coal-black eyes that seemed to shine, almost as if she had captured the stars of the midnight sky in her eyes. “I’ll do it,” he announced.

Her eyes widened in surprise as if she couldn’t believe his answer and frankly, neither could he.

He couldn’t date someone, it would end badly for the both of them.

But this wasn’t a real relationship, this was for the press, it was simply a mutually beneficial alliance made between two co-workers to get a job done. It was all fake. He couldn’t ruin their relationship by breaking up with her because there wasn’t a real relationship to ruin.

“Okay so... we need to make some ground rules,” Cordelia said, as her surprise wore off. She stepped out of his apartment. “But not now. I’ll see you tomorrow, you’re taking me out on a date. Pick me up at noon and make it public.” And with that, she shut the door to his apartment, not even waiting for confirmation from him.

James knew that this was the best possible option for the both of them, but a part of him knew that something was going to go wrong.

***

The next day, James woke up at eight and went through his usual morning routine. He got up, went out for a jog and stretched afterward, showered, ate breakfast, and finally, brushed his teeth. He looked at his closet, trying to find proper first date attire while debating where to take Cordelia for lunch. He eventually decided on going to Perch because of its glamorous rooftop dining and quickly called to get a reservation. On normal occasions, James would’ve tried to reserve the entire rooftop for privacy but Cordelia had told him to make it public. He made sure that the table was in a more secluded space that was still seen by others.

It was a smart idea, to have their first date in front of others, it would ensure that they were seen so they could get the rumors about their relationship started. They would still have to come up with an official relationship timeline and a whole story on how they got together. 

James speedily chose his outfit, a white t-shirt, and some jeans, left his penthouse, and drove over to Cordelia’s apartment building. He had only been there a few times since they usually went to his place when Lucie made them practice their chemistry, he rushed inside and turned to go to the elevators when he saw a familiar flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. He turned around to see Cordelia sitting on a sofa near the entrance to the building. She was reading her favorite book, Layla and Majnun. 

“Hey!” James said, trying to sound enthusiastic as he walked over to her. In reality, his stomach was a mess with nerves and he couldn’t help but think that yesterday had been his last day of normal, his last day of being real, because now, everything he did, every move he would make, would be part of the show he and Cordelia would have to put on.

Cordelia had put her book in her purse and was walking towards him by the time James had been snapped out of his mind. She was dressed in a dark green sundress that was decorated with tiny white flowers. It had a square neckline that perfectly allowed Cordelia to show off the friendship necklace that Lucie had given her. 

James signaled for Cordelia to follow him as he led her over to the place where he had parked. He unlocked the doors to his black BMW and slide into the driver’s seat as Cordelia slide into the passenger’s side. He could tell that she was also as nervous as he was from the way that her knee bounced and the way that she kept on looking around, almost as if she was trying to find an escape.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as she continued to look at the street. She had stopped bouncing her knees and started to tap on her elbow, just as she had the night before.

“Perch,” he replied. He got to a stoplight so he turned to look at her, “I didn’t reserve the entire roof though so that it would be public.” The light turned green and James accelerated again.

“Thank you for doing this. I really do appreciate it,” she said as she stopped tapping her elbow. She seemed calmer now. As if knowing where they were going was calming her down or maybe she just really liked the food from Perch and that was making her more calm.

“No problem,” he replied as he took a turn to find a place to park. Cordelia seemed to notice because she began to sit straighter and look around again.

“There,” she said as she pointed at an empty parking spot near a tree. James began to make his way over there and parked flawlessly. He turned off the engine, took off his seatbelt, and looked out of the window before opening the door to get out. He went around the car to open the door for Cordelia and waited as she stepped out to close the door.

Together they walked over to Perch and went into the elevator. This was it, the point of no return. Once they stepped out of the elevator, their scheme would have to face the scrutinizing eyes of the media and everyone else and they would have to hope that they would never be found out.

Cordelia looked up at him, almost as if waiting for confirmation.

He held out his arm for her and looked her square in the eye.

“Ready?” he asked.

the next chapter will definitely feature their first date and it will be in cordelia’s pov. constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated! please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1, @jem-nasium, @writeforjordelia

[miniature-space-hamster]

Merweek Day Five: We Are Family

Karina Shepard is finally released from the hospital after the battle of London, and Kaidan brings her to his family home in Vancouver, where she meets his parents for the first time.

“Kaidan…” Shepard’s eyes focusing on the blur of pine that seemed to stretch endlessly from her view in the skycar, her voice sounded distant. A growing tightness filled her chest. “Are your parents going to like me?” She paused, already sounding somewhat defeated, resisting the urge to start picking at newly painted nails. She brought a finger to her mouth, seconds from chewing before stopping herself. She needed something to distract her from their destination. There was only about fifteen minutes left until they were at Kaidan’s family home.

Without breaking eye contact from the road, Kaidan gave her a crooked smile and raised eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t they, Karina?” She always seemed to surprise him with questions like this. She could face a Reaper on foot without flinching, but the thought of meeting his mother was what she worried about.

Karina wasn’t sure where to start, she sighed sharply before speaking but the noise got lost in the hum of the engines. “I mean… we were sleeping together when I was still your CO, for starters. We stole the Normandy and committed treason. Not to mention I’m the reason you got tangled with Cerberus…” She took a breath, but it didn’t feel deep enough. “How much do they even know?”

“I told my mother we were together after our date at Apollo’s.” He kept his words plain, clearly code for they didn’t know anything prior. At least no more than the average civilian.

Karina nodded, remembering Apollo’s with a slight smile threatening at the corner of tightly pulled lips. It was the closest they’ve ever gotten to normalcy during the war. A taste, albeit brief, of what was to come after the Reaper’s defeat. Kaidan was so awkward and vulnerable as he fumbled through his words. It was cute.

She finally ripped her gaze from the scenery, turning to Kaidan. “Speaking of Apollo’s, depending on how this goes I might need another sanity check.” There was a slight laugh at the end of her words, but it was strained. She tapped the door with her nails, desperately in search of stimuli to ease her anxiety. “I haven’t done anything family related in over a decade.”

Kaidan drove with one hand, reaching out for her thigh with the other and squeezed. Karina took his hand into hers before she even realized it. She focused on the strong, calloused fingers interlocked with her own. She let her free hand trace the familiar shape of his knuckles.

Kaidan knew this was going to be hard for her. She no longer had a family to call her own after Mindoir. Though he knew nothing could replace that, he wanted to at least make her feel at home with his own family.

They pulled into a driveway, past the forest of dense pine that finally brought the distant orchard into view. This was the first time he’s been home since the war. Kaidan was barely holding back a smile as he finally turned to Karina. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’ll just be for the weekend.”

He hopped out of the car and made his way to Karina’s side, helping her out and grabbing her cane from the back seat, hesitating for a moment before considering getting the wheelchair in the trunk. “Are you good to walk?”

Karina gave him a slight nod, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Kaidan sighed quietly, knowing that didn’t answer his question. She always said she was fine, regardless of whether it was true or not. He looked her up and down, trying to assess the situation himself before nodding and grabbing the cane.

The doctors didn’t expect her to be able to walk so soon after her injuries, and all the surgeries that followed the battle at London. She still struggled though. At times it was like her legs had forgotten how to keep her up. But she was out of the hospital now, and that on its own felt like a victory

Kaidan offered Karina his arm, which she took with her free hand in equal parts comfort and support. She took a shaky breath when Kaidan rang the doorbell. The chime echoed through the house as she heard frantic steps shuffling towards the door.

They were greeted by a small, silver haired woman who barely made it to Karina’s chest. Her eyes lit up behind thick, black frames when she saw Kaidan. He had to lean over as she smiled and pulled him into a tight hug. It was clear Kaidan got his eyes and smile from his mother. She patted his back several times before she pulled away and turned towards Karina.

“It’s so good to finally meet you.” She pulled Karina in for a hug just as she did for Kaidan, without warning, as if she’d known her for years. Karina felt her muscles tensing up, not expecting such sudden contact. She could count on one Turian hand how many people hug her like this. Several moments passed until she returned the embrace with unsure arms. His mother soon after released, much to Karina’s relief. “Hope the trip wasn’t too bad.”

“We didn’t have any trouble.” Kaidan cut in, noticing that Karina looked more than a little overwhelmed. He took half a step in her direction, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Karina leaned against him, desperately hoping the attention could be shifted away from her.

It was then Karina saw movement from the hallway headed in their direction. A white haired man who looked almost exactly like Kaidan stepped out.

He walked with such purpose, though it was clear he walked on old injuries that never quite healed right. Despite this, he still carried the posture of someone who served. Karina felt her own posture stiffen reflexively, suddenly feeling like she was a new recruit awaiting inspection all over again. The man stayed silent as he approached, not breaking eye contact.

Kaidan pulled his father in for a hug, neither saying a word. Kaidan’s arms shook slightly. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever see his father again after the reaper war when he was declared missing.

Kaidan retracted before making introductions. “Dad, this is Karina.”

She received a firm handshake from the man. His posture was stiff and awkward as he extended his hand. He clearly didn’t know how to address her, but the feeling was mutual.

Introductions felt like a blur that Karina wasn’t fully present for. Her mind kept drifting off before being pulled back by key words in the conversation. She was never good with small talk, and something about her surroundings kept bringing her mind back to Mindoir, and her own parents.

Luckily, Kaidan and his mother carried the conversation with relative ease. She was updating him about their family. A cousin, as far as Karina could tell. She struggled to keep up with the names.

Karina continued to sip on the wine presented in silence, letting the flavor keep her anchored in the moment. It was a dry red wine, but she couldn’t figure out what kind and felt too awkward to interrupt and ask.

And then the one question she was dreading hit like a bullet to the chest.

“So how’s your family doing, Karina?”

It was a simple enough question, from a well meaning woman who didn’t want to exclude company from conversation, but it required a far more complex answer.

She swallowed hard as she looked over to Kaidan, who looked a shade paler than he did before as he met her gaze. He was seconds from trying to intercept the conversation, before Karina put a hand on his. She knew she’d have to talk about it eventually.

“Oh, I don’t have any family.” It was simple enough, and shut the conversation down before it got too deep. She wasn’t prepared to drop her baggage on a family she hadn’t even gotten the chance to fully know yet.

Karina thought she should feel her pulse rising in her throat by now, but the sensation didn’t come. The ache was a dull one, faded by a decade's time. She quietly pushed the feeling down, shifting the collar of her turtleneck sweater. She silently cleared her throat before changing the subject.

“This wine is lovely. Did it come from this orchard?”

~~

Karina found herself in Kaidan’s childhood bed as the night came to a close, both drained from the combination of wine and late night conversation, but neither could find sleep quite yet. Karina looked around the room decorated in hockey sticks and trophies. It looked like it hadn’t been touched since Kaidan joined the Alliance.

Kaidan caressed her cheek with delicate precision, kissing her temple before speaking. “How’re you feeling? Still need that sanity check?”

Karina leaned against the man at her side, letting her head fall against his shoulder. “Oddly enough, I’m feeling okay.” She paused for a moment, fighting the exhaustion to get the words out. “It’s weird though.”

Kaidan leaned his head against hers. The arm wrapped around her tightening with concern. “How so?”

She sighed. “Just thinking about my own family, I guess. It doesn't hurt as much as it used to.”

He squeezed her shoulder as he kissed the crown of her head, “Time has a way of doing that, huh?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist in response, holding back a yawn. “It’s like I’m almost missing the feeling of loss, because at least there was something there. Y’know?”

Kaidan nodded thoughtfully before planting another kiss, this time more tender as it barely grazed her scalp. “It wasn’t the family you were born with, but I think you managed to find your own family in the time since. You have the old Normandy crew.”

Karina nodded as she began to recline more on the bed, feeling the exhaustion finally begin to overcome her. Kaidan matched her pace, finding their usual position on an unfamiliar bed. Karina let her legs graze his own before they tangled themselves into one another.

“Maybe one day you’ll feel that way here?” Kaidan offered with a low voice, looking at the ceiling as he held Karina close to his side.

Karina pulled herself in closer, until their bodies were flush and her head rested on his chest, nuzzling before finding her usual spot. “I think I’d like that.”

[cupcakemolotov]

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

                                                            -

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough. 

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services. 

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone. 

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone. 

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?” 

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly. 

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed. 

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it. 

She trusted him. 

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy. 

Enzo did not match lightly. 

His magic liked the match. 

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her. 

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce. 

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.” 

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty. 

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother. 

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

[the-river-person]

The Alleyway

When Frisk found the alleyway for the first time, it was an accident. The thunder of the falls was deafening out here on the edge of the city. If you were to climb out on the ledge and look down you would see the waterfalls plunging from the city’s canals and down into the dark depths below. Of course, you couldn’t see what lay at the bottom of the colossal towers, nor much further than the cliffs in the distance. What little you could see were rows of blackened dead trees and plants. The corruption. Leaving the city wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t safe. The City’s Ministers and officials did their best to keep the stuff at bay, to keep everyone in the towering cities safe. But if you left, you wouldn’t be allowed to come back even if you survived. Everyone’s safety was at stake, after all. But, as they found, if you sidled out along the narrow edge, away from the last official street on the map, you might find yourself along another opening, a dark street that seemed to be totally blocked off from the main roads. Dark doorways promised sinister watchers from the shadows, and even one or two small shops that looked like they’d never even heard of the guilds had their wares spread out on cloths or in windows.

Frisk, wearing a jacket to keep off the constant dampness of the falls and the chill air, looked around before turning to go back the way they’d come. Madame Toriel was waiting for them and there wasn’t time to explore. Yet there was someone there. Frisk jumped back, alarmed, but the figure didn’t seem to be moving in a threatening way, they were just standing there, looking just as surprised to see Frisk as Frisk was to see them. It was a little difficult to tell what the person looked like, as they had a long brown overcoat on and a hood that hid nearly their entire face in shadow. Only the eyes stood out, peering at them from beneath the hood. Terrible, grey, blank eyes that seemed to want to pull them inward. But when the figure spoke, it was in a quiet voice, one that was… relaxing and smooth, even friendly. “Heya, didn’t mean to frighten you or anything. I was just wondering what you were doing back here, the Warrens aren’t the safest place to go exploring. Don’t want you getting hurt or lost. What’s your name?” “Frisk,” they said, their expression turning ever so slightly towards a frown. What was “The Warrens”? What did he mean not the safest place? The City of Vandfald and its three sister cities of the Claustra Alliance were among the last safe places left in the world! Surely someone would have noticed if there was any real danger. Quiet laughter escaped the figure. “Ah. Frisk. What a cool name. Heh. Alright, I figure you’re not the type to be put off by warnings. Tell you what, I’m staying around here for a little while. If you need my help, look for me here.” And he handed them a small card with an address printed on it. “I might not be able to solve your problems, but I might be able to give you advice, or at least lend an ear.” With that, the figure turned to walk away down the alley street. “Wait!” called Frisk. The figure paused, listening. “You didn’t tell me your name!” There was a little pause. For one moment, Frisk wondered if the person would refuse to tell them. But those brief fears dissipated when the figure spoke again. “Mistral. My name is Mistral. See you round, Frisk.” And as he walked away, it occurred to Frisk that though Mistral was taller than them, he was still quite short. * * *

The next time they came to the alley, they were dragging Azriel with them.

“How did you even know this was here? Frisk? Frisk. This place could be dangerous. Are you listening to me?”

Frisk waved him into silence, “Shush, Azzy. This isn’t the time to chicken out.” “I’m not chickening out,” muttered the goat-monster. But he followed them into the alley nonetheless.

They crossed paths with a few people, but most simply hurried onward,not quite meeting their eyes. One of the shady vendors beckoned them to his little display with a friendly smile and a wink. He appeared to be selling a variety of items that had clearly been repaired. Frisk picked one of the objects up to get a closer look at it. It had some kind of flat glass on the front, like a window, and a strange knob or two on either side of the little window that might have been buttons. Frisk pressed a button, but nothing happened. They looked at Azzy, who shrugged, looking just as confused. The shopkeeper’s wife, who was watching from the doorway, removed her sandal and gave her husband a thwop on the head with it. Her heavily accented voice was quite loud as she continued to thump him with the sandal.

“Children, Aaron! They are little children! You cannot sell scavenged junk to children! What would they do with it? How would they even know what it is? You are stupid! Stupid!”

“Ouch! Ow! Wait!” yelped the shopkeeper as he pleaded with his wife, holding his  muscled arms over his head to protect it from her onslaught. “Please! Catty, my love!”

This did not save him from the shoe. “Don’t you ‘My Love' me! You could have been a Rail Cleaner like my cousin! We could be living a decent life on Villias Tower!. But no! You wanted to  get a license from the Guilds to sell your trash, as if anyone wants this junk! Now we’re stuck here in the Warrens because you won’t listen to me!”

Other faces had started to poke from doors and windows, monsters and humans watching the scene with amusement. Frisk and Azzy quietly slipped away, not really wanting to be caught up in all the attention. Without realizing it, Frisk had held onto the device they’d picked up from among Aaron’s wares, and had stuck it in their pocket without thinking. It took them a while to find their destination.The streets were winding and branched off or connected all over the place, like a series of cracks spreading out. All of it seemed to somehow be inside the city, but how and where was a mystery, since neither Frisk nor Azzy had ever seen any glimpse of the place in all their time living here. Asking directions was difficult because most people would simply brush past them, refusing to answer, or look around warily before telling them to go home. Finally they managed to get a grudging response from the eighth person they asked, a canine monster who was smoking a dog biscuit and wearing an old, rumpled, tweed suit. He squinted at them, as if trying to see them better, and Frisk wondered if he was partially blind. But he pointed them down the right way before walking off, muttering about children being where they shouldn’t be the entire time. Surprisingly they had actually been quite near the address they’d been searching for, the one on the card Mistral had given Frisk the first time they’d met him. It was a townhouse, squashed between a number of others that were all fairly similar despite different coloring and decor styles, and when they knocked on the door it sprang open right away. There was nobody there who could have opened it, but a voice from somewhere inside greeted them. “Come in! I’m just in the kitchen. First door on the right.” Following the voice they stepped into the kitchen, where a familiar short figure was bending over a pot on the coal burning stove. When he turned to greet them, both Azzy and Frisk gasped.” He was a skeleton, but that wasn’t what was unusual about him, what shocked them was that he could have been an almost exact copy of Minister Sans. Seeing their expressions, Mistral laughed. “No, no.” he said with his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not the Minister. Don’t worry. I just happen to look a lot like him, lots of us skeletons look alike you know.” Frisk felt doubtful of this as their eyes took in the finer details of the skeleton’s appearance. All across his bones were crystals. Not fine jewels on broaches, rings, and necklaces… but raw crystal actually growing on, or maybe from the bones themselves. Mostly they were small, merely encrusting his arms and neck with tiny beds of silvery-white crystal. But here and there a larger shard grew, jutting out and impossibly sharp. Since he’d removed the long overcoat he’d been wearing, they could see the stuff growing up around his neck and all along his arms. A few crystals were even growing around his face and upper skull. Frisk and Azzy turned to share a look, was this the corruption at work? Or something else? Mistral gave the pair an amused glance, noting their wide-eyed expressions. “I suppose it’s not everyday you meet someone as handsome as me. But didn’t you two come here for a reason?” Frisk shook their head to clear it. Yes, it was true the skeleton did appear similar to the city’s less than approachable Minister of Commerce who oversaw the guilds. But the differences were more than enough to prove his claim that he was not the same person. Besides, they’d come to ask for help. “People have been disappearing. All over the city. Monsters and humans alike, but always someone nobody would notice. Or pay much attention to. We’ve tried to report it to the guards, but they don’t care. And mothe-” They stopped mid word, looking uncomfortable for a moment before correcting themself. “Madame Toriel won’t listen to us.” As Frisk had been talking, Azzy had been rocking back and forth, looking nervous and distressed. Finally he spoke up. “They took Chilldrake! And Suzy! And even that mouse whose dad worked for the Drake family and he came to play with Chilldrake sometimes, what was his name? He had a huge scarf.” When Frisk only shrugged, Azzy continued on anyway. “We don’t know why people are going, but nobody listens to us, or cares. Frisk said they might know someone who could help, or tell us what to do.” Still stirring the bubbling pot on the stove, Mistral had listened calmly and attentively to everything they’d said. Now he moved the pot to a different burner and retrieved three bowls from a cupboard and filled them with stew from his pot. It smelled delicious; like onions, beef, and cooked carrots. Various spices like cumin and rosemary tickled their noses in a tantalizing way that caused their mouths to water. There was also, very faint beneath all the other smells, the scent of something else… something like lightning and rain… like ozone. “Now,” said the skeleton. “From what I’ve learned, the best thing to do in a situation where you’re not sure what to do, is to learn about your surroundings. You live in the city, sure. But how much do you really know about it? And the Warrens? Know anything about them?” Frisk frowned. “I know the City is one of the four great cities of the Claustra Alliance, and that there are bridges and rails that keep us connected with them. The cities protect us from the outside, where it's not safe to live because of the corruption.” Everyone knew about the corruption. Said to have been released from containment centuries ago it had overtaken much of the world. Humans and Monsters had banded together in order to build the cities and protect as many people as they could. “Are you sure?” They stared at him, Azzy’s face scrunched up in bewilderment, and Frisk feeling slightly angry as they asked, “What do you mean?” Mistral grinned. “Are you sure it's not safe to live outside the cities?” “Of course we’re sure!” said Azzy. “Everyone knows that!” The skeleton, looking like he was on the verge of laughing, nodded. “Alright. So how do you explain how I'm living in relative safety here in the Warrens?” They gaped at him. “But,” started Frisk. “I thought…” Mistral actually did laugh now. “You thought they were part of the city. Parts of them are. Back entrances, certain doors, side alleys. There are a ton of ways back and forth. Sort of like… gates that take you to far away places with a single step. So think on this. If it’s safe enough to live in the Warrens without worrying about the corruption, what other things do you think you were lied to about?”

Neither could answer, and Mistral took that as a sign the conversation was over. He urged them to eat their stew, which they did, and then he herded them from the house, saying that he had appointments to keep.

His final words, before he shut the door, were a strange warning. “Don’t mention me to anyone. As far as this and every other one of your great cities is concerned, I don’t exist, and I’d like to keep it that way. If you need my advice again, slip a letter under the door here and I’ll get back to you within a day or two if I can.”

Then he’d closed the door and there was a final click, like a lock being turned. Azzy turned to look at Frisk.

“You have weird friends.”

[sheyshen]

My FanFic compilation

I figured I have written quite a lot over the years and especially this year, that putting together something like this, that has everything I’ve written so far in one place all organized would be a good idea! So please! Enjoy!

There’s quite a lot so they’ll all be listed under the read more, They’re all organized by series (fairy tail, swtor, mass effect, dragon age, greedfall, anthem, and smut fics) as well as by pair with a short description, starting with the first fic I wrote (fairy tail) and the latest (fictober 2020 prompts)  :D

Fairy Tail: (Leading off with this because it’s my first ever fic) -Shall We Dance, Pair: Laxus/Lucy: 38 chapters, Finished https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351550/chapters/9870611

Swtor: Main fic: -Breaking the Bad News (aka BTBN), multi-pair, main focus is shan trio: currently 70 chapters, Ongoing. https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340892/chapters/21164699

Side Fics: Kara Hawke’s Backstory(s):

Pre-Class story: -A Smuggler’s Tyr, no pairing, intro to Kara’s first crew: Currently 1 chapter, Complete (Might add more eventually)

During Class Story: -Adventure of a Lifetime, no pairing focus but will mention Darmas, meant to build on what we have of the in game class story: Currently 1 chapter, hiatus (plan to work on more with 2021)

Post Class Story: -Hawke Legacy: While Kara Sleeps, mentioned Theron/Kara, focus’s on Koro delivering the news of Marr’s ship being attacked to Theron. 1 chapter, Complete -Downtime, Theron/Kara, Post arrival on Odessen but prior to chapter 9 on kotfe, 1 chapter, complete -Desert Reunion, Theron/Kara, Introducing Kara’s dad and bringing him into the Alliance, 3 chapters, complete -A Moment, Theron/Kara, but starting to poke at the idea of Arcann being involved, 1 chapter, complete

Prompts: -Fictober 2018, day 1: Can you feel this?, Kara/Arcann/Theron, post-umbara/pre-copero so theron’s only mentioned -Fictober 2018, day 3: How can I trust you?, Kara/Arcann/Theron, post-Nathema, and a bit on the trio +kids, dealing with Theron’s return -Fictober 2018, day 5: Take what you need, mentioned Kara/Caleb (her first husband from her original crew), takes place before the class stories, short story about a job she had done -Fictober 2018, day 6: I’ve heard enough, this ends now. Kara/Arcann (sometime pre-nathema so sorry Theron’s not really in this one), bit of covering a reoccuring nightmare Kara had for a few months -Fictober 2018, day 7: No Worries, we still have time, Kara/Arcann/Theron (Arcann’s not present tho, just mentioned), little bit of the pair of workaholics +kids taking a break -Fictober 2018, day 12/13: Who could do this/Try harder next time, Kara/Arcann/Theron & Koren/Trey (Will have this in both pairs), sometime post-nathema probably, little adventure with Kara involving having to save her sons -Prompt: I Care about You, Theron/Kara, little bit of a rebuild of their kotfe reuinion -Prompt: Come Cuddle, Kara/Arcann/Theron, Short fluff story of one of their movie nights with some bad jokes -Promptless idea: Arcann Singing, Kara/Arcann/Theron, I’ve always had this idea that Arcann can sing at least as well as Senya does, so here’s a bit of him singing to kara’s boys, and also kara. -Fictober 2019, day 2: Just Follow me, I know the area, Kara/Arcann mainly, post onslaught so Theron’s involved but just not featured in this prompt. Little bit of a romantic night out. -Fictober 2019, day 3: Now? Now you listen to me?, Kara/Arcann/Theron, follow-up to the fictober 2018 day 6 prompt, and resolution to the chronic nightmares Kara was having -Fictober 2020, day 7: Yes I did, what about it?, Kara/Arcann/Theron, post-nathema, small bit of theron and kara heart to heart about a choice she made (involving Valss because I’m still bitter we didn’t get a save option for him) and both prosthetic users in the trio are sore (maybe there’s a storm moving in) -Fictober 2020, day 15: Not interested, thank you, Kara/Arcann/Theron (Arcann isn’t present for this), one of a handful of reminders that Kara and Theron are parents, connor just really wants to make his lightsaber -Fictober 2020, day 18: You don’t see it?, Kara/Arcann/Theron (post umbara pre Nathema so theron is only mentioned), something of a pep-talk from arcann.

Nora Hawke/Mikael Hawke: -That Time Back When We First Met, backstory on how my sith warrior and pub trooper met before they started their relationship: currently 2 chapters, hiatus (plan to work on more with 2021) -Fictober 2018, day 4: Will that be all?, little bit after they first met, can be considered a continuation chapter... technically

Koren Gates/Trey Hawke: -Fictober 2018, day 2: People Like you have no imagination, Koren/Trey & Shey/Torian (will put it for both pairs), little adventure of my bounty hunter squad +sith BF -Fictober 2018, day 12/13: Who could do this/Try harder next time, Kara/Arcann/Theron & Koren/Trey (Will have this in both pairs), sometime post-nathema probably, little adventure with Kara involving having to save her sons -Fictober 2020, day 13: I missed this, Koren/Trey, bit of fluff between my overly caring hunter who could use a day off and his grump of a sith boyfriend. -Fictober 2020, day 28: Do I have to do everything here?, Kara/Arcann/Theron, Arcann and Koth decide to play a co-op holonet game, with only minor arguing. -Fictober 2020, day 30: Just say it, Kara/Arcann/Theron, Kara gets a little time to herself and the trio’s weekly movie night ends up being a bit more than just the three of them.

Shey Shen/Torian Cadera: -Fictober 2018, day 2: People Like you have no imagination, Koren/Trey & Shey/Torian (will put it for both pairs), little adventure of my bounty hunter squad +sith BF -Prompt: I’m Right Where I Belong, Shey/Torian sometime post kotet, a rare time that I bring up the fact that she has amnesia and still can’t remember anything prior to about 2 years prior to the class stories starting. -Prompt: ... out of habit (kiss), former Shey/Koro mention as well as Shey/Torian, because Koro is a mess and while him and Shey have been divorced for years habits die hard. -Fictober 2020, day 8: I’m not doing that again, Shey/Torian & Kurana/Andronikos (will be under both pairs), Little bit of a fun idea of who would win in a fight, our dear pirate or mando

Kurana Knight/Andronikos Revel: -Prompt: One Falling Asleep with their head in the other’s lap, Kurana/Andronikos, I keep thinking of this prompt now and then because writing Niko being soft for his wife is a lot of fun. -Fictober 2020, day 8: I’m not doing that again, Shey/Torian & Kurana/Andronikos (will be under both pairs), Little bit of a fun idea of who would win in a fight, our dear pirate or mando

Lyra Hawke/Doc: -Fictober 2020, day 1: No, Come Back!, Lyra/Doc, little adventure on an unnamed planet that I honestly love the idea of -Fictober 2020, day 6: That was Impressive, Lyra/Doc, Another little adventure of information gathering featuring Kara’s youngest son, Connor. -Fictober 2020, day 22: And neither should you, Lyra/Doc, little bit of fluff and doc trying to get his wife to take a day off

Ren Hawke/Vinn Atrius: -Fictober 2020, day 9: Will you Look at this?, Ren/Vinn, I need to write more of them outside of btbn so this was a start to hopefully more building on my didn’t plan to ship this as strongly as I ended up doing pair.

Ava Reiner/Jonas Balkar: -Fictober 2020, day 20: Did I ask?, Ava/Jonas, Small job featuring a couple of SIS agents, and including a bounty hunter I got attached to in a hurry.

Kyri Dennan/Arn Peralun: -Fictober 2020, day 21: This, this makes it all worth it, Kyri/Arn, little build up for another pair that I didn’t expect to get attached to, featuring some implant maintanence.

Airi/Theron (one off because disaster spy/spy pairing I had to write at least once): -Admittance, 1 chapter, complete

WoW: Aulara Stormdawn/Kieran Grimmarrow: -Lunar Eclipse, (Technically my first fic but I didn’t post it until after Shall We Dance), A story involving Aulara (an orphaned night elf priestess), Koren Haven (her brother from the orphanage, a human paladin), Kieran (a blood elf noble, hunter who doesn’t have much people skills), and the friends they meet including Rokar an old orc shaman and Sen a orc huntress, that navigates through the warcraft story starting with vanilla wow. Currently 7 chapters, on hiatus but planning on picking it up again in 2021! -Fictober 2020, day 4: That didn’t stop you before, Aulara/Kieran, A quest during Legion and a bit of a flashback from one of their first quests together around when they first started fighting side by side during BC -Fictober 2020, day 25: Sometimes you can even see, Aulara/Kieran, The burning of Teldrassil and Kieran deciding he’s willing to risk everything he’s ever known to be with his wife. Koren is there to give him a hand. -Fictober 2020, day 26: How about you trust me for once?, Aulara/Kieran, early BC before they became a couple, Kieran and Aulara get a moment to talk alone in Nagrand, involves something close to an awkward confession. >:3

Shey Wrynn/Varian Wrynn: -Prompt: Are you testing me?, Shey/Varian, post WoD but pre-Legion, little walk through elwynn turning into an adventure between the king and his wife, Shey is not amused when he charges in head first. -Fictober 2020, day 2: That’s the easy part, Shey/Varian, mid to late WoD, bit of fluff while planning the push towards hellfire citadel, bit of fluff and bit of proposal.  >:3 -Fictober 2020, day 10: All I ever wanted, Shey/Varian, post-BFA Pre-Shadowlands, proof I can write at least a little bit angsty, some platonic Shey & Anduin. -Fictober 2020, day 16: I never wanted anything else, Shey/Varian, something short around late Cata early MoP involving Shey having a birthday. -Fictober 2020, day 27: Give me that, Shey/Varian, probably what I consider the most ooc i’ve written him but honestly i had a lot of fun writing them being dorks. -Fictober 2020, day 31: I trust you, Shey/Varian, sometime early Cata soon after they started a relationship. The one and probably only time I’ll ever mention Shey’s old house, and a touch on the fact that i’m 100% certain that Varian would try and sneak out of the city time to time.

Shey & Anduin (platonic, it’s always platonic/familial between them) -Fictober 2020, day 19: I can’t do this anymore, Shey & Anduin, because sometimes a girl just needs to sneak her son out of the city to give him a break and maybe check out a ruin or something.

Shey Wrynn/Aethas Sunreaver: -Prompt: By your side, Shey/Aethas. Post legion, a bit of a moment between them early BFA. I started writing them as a potential pair before settling as friends with benefits that might form into more, so this is a possible hinting at them becoming “more”

Mass Effect: John Shepard/Kaidan Alenko: -Prompt: War’s End Kiss, Shenko, Post ME3 when they’re just a couple of retired old soldiers and John’s slowly recovering from his injuries from the final push. -Fictober 2019, day 4: I know you didn’t ask for this, Shenko, Post ME3, a bit of a heart to heart between them and tending to slowly healing injuries. -Fictober 2020, day 3: You did this?, Shenko, Post ME3, Kaidan runs across some old footage of John over the years from before they met to the reaper war. -Fictober 2020, day 14: You better leave now, Shenko, during ME3, short mission against a hold out of mercs, featuring James. -Fictober 2020, day 24: Are you kidding me?, Shenko, during ME3 probably, featuring Kaidan “my headache doesn’t hurt that bad” Alenko and John “please just take a nap” Shepard. -Fictober 2020, day 29: Back up!, Shenko, during ME3, mission to clear out a cerberus warehouse including some battle flirting and James lending a gun.

Scott Ryder/Gil Brodie: -Fictober 2020, day 12: Watch me, Ryder/Gil, Post main MEA story, something short of Scott looking forward to getting out and exploring while Gil (and eventually Sara) work on the Nomad. (Sara is my pathfinder)

Dragon Age: Garrett Hawke/Fenris: -Dawning, Fenhawke, Short bit of fluff and my firt step into writing dragon age. Late or post DA2.

Lia Hawke/Fenris (a one off when I was debating on canon hawkes & romances for them): -Fictober 2020 day 5: Unacceptable, try again. Fenhawke, little bit of teasing and bad taste in books.

Rana Cousland/Alistair Theirin: -Promptless ramble, Rana/Alistair, Set during DAO with Rana reflecting on those she’s lost, worrying for her brother and realizing just how in love she’s fallen with Alistair. -Fictober 2020, day 23: Do we have to?, Rana/Alistair, set post DAO, pre-DAI, little romantic picnic between the king and queen of ferelden before she heads off on her next mission. (hints at Nathaniel being involved with the both of them.)

Greedfall: Lydia de Sardet/Kurt -Fictober 2020, day 11: I told you so, Lydia/Kurt, short bit trying to get my footing writing these two, Lydia thinks she can still climb trees like she used to as a kid. -Fictober 2020, day 17: Give me a minute or an hour, Lydia/Kurt, short bit, and Kurt not being as subtle about his feelings about Lydia as he probably thinks he has.

Anthem: Raya Auren/Matti (1 of the 3 Matthias Sumner) -Fictober 2019 day 1: It’ll be fun, trust me, Raya/Matti, Bit of an adventure involving Raya taking her favorite arcanist out of fort tarsis to see something very special. (also involving me having no clue how they transport people when there’s only one javelin and winging it)

Smut: (all of them are swtor so far) -A Moment Reprised, Kara/Arcann, takes place post-umbara and pre-nathema, and sometime late in BtBN, no plot. -Moving on, Koren/Trey, takes place right before chap 35 of BtBN, featuring my dorks of a hunter and sith setting in stone they’re serious about each other. no plot -Just a short vacation, Kara/Theron, takes place post-nathema pre-onslaught, A moment in Kara and Theron’s honeymoon at a lovely resort and the closest to taking a day off Theron will ever probably take. No plot -Welcome Home, Kara/Arcann/Theron, unlike the other 3 doesn’t have a specific time that it takes place other than post nathema. No plot

[ma-sulevin]

It’s done! I’m going to have one more installment (shorter than this one) to wrap up their story together. I’ll probably have that out later this summer. Thank you so much for reading and playing along with my pet project!

(ps, this chapter banner, and all the others, are from Shot by Cerqueira on Unsplash)

Pairing: James Vega/Avery Ryder Rating: E Warnings: No warnings, just smut. Check out the tags on AO3. Word Count: 5744, chapter four of four!

Read it on AO3 instead, or catch up on their story from the beginning.

---

It’s almost easy to forget everything else, locked in that house with James. It’s easy to pretend she doesn’t have a job waiting for her back in London, that no one will miss her if she just doesn’t go back, that she can just stay here on the beach, enjoy the ocean, play house with James and pretend that everything’s okay.

And things are okay, mostly. There are still articles coming out with pictures of them from when she dragged him out of the house on New Year’s Eve, including one particularly raunchy one from the club, and if she still had a mother to answer to, she might be embarrassed about it.

As it is, she can’t bring herself to really care.

She’s too busy trying to relax, unwinding the tension she’s carried since finding out she’s pregnant with no support system — something she never expected to happen, not ever, because she was always careful about that even when she was being careless with the rest of herself.

She was always careful until she met James.

And now, here she is, stretched out on the sand with her head in James’ lap and her hand on her belly, holding her breath, waiting to see if the little kick she just felt will happen again so she can see if she can feel it from the outside too, because if James gets to feel the baby before she goes back to London, he’ll probably cry a little.

And, well, she kind of wants to see that.

Maybe she’s not that nice of a person.

“Doing okay down there?”

James is pretty studiously playing with her hair, weaving it in sloppy braid after sloppy braid as she soaks up the attention. He’d probably have better luck if her hair wasn’t full of sand and salt, but she’s not going to tell him that yet, because she doesn’t want him to stop.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to see… Ah, shit.” The next kick, or maybe it’s a punch, comes from the opposite side, so she shifts and puts her other hand down there too. “God, she’s already so uncooperative. How my mother did this with two of us at once is fucking beyond me.”

James chuckles behind her, and she glances up at him through her sunglasses to catch his smile. “Think she’ll be stubborn as you?”

“I’d call you an asshole, but I think the odds are against us on that one.” A little kick comes again, and since she’s waiting for it, she can just barely feel it pressing against her fingers. “Gimme your hand.”

He does, spilling her hair across her face as he moves too fast, and she can’t help but giggle a little as she presses his palm against her stomach.

“Okay, wait. Right here.”

She puts her hand on top of his and pushes a little harder, holding him in exactly the right spot, waiting perfectly still as her heart speeds up.

Nothing happens.

“Try talking to her. She likes your voice.”

He doesn’t hesitate, just leans forward a bit and says, “Mija, it’s your dad. Can you hear me?” A pause, then he adds, “Kick your mom once for yes, twice for no.”

Avery snorts indelicately, amusement coursing through her even though she’s actively trying to stay still, and she can hear the laughter in his voice when he keeps talking.

“C’mon, baby girl, you’re not gonna be down here too much longer. Say something while you — holy shit.”

She’s not expecting the rush of emotion that accompanies the little kick against James’ hand, how sharply she reacts to seeing his eyes go all wide and his smile light his whole face. Her eyes fill with tears as he just starts to laugh.

“Oh, Dios, oh my god, hey, baby girl. You’re really in there, huh. Kick me again.”

She does, and he laughs again, and then he looks down to see Avery crying freely, but silently. He moves his free hand to her face, wiping at her cheeks even though the angle is awkward, but keeps the other pressed exactly where it is over the baby.

“Birdie?”

She laughs through her tears, and the noise is wet and gross, and that just makes her laugh more. “Sorry. Don’t look at me.”

“Nah, you’re too pretty not to look at.” He brushes her hair out of her face like he wants to see her better, and she scrubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Avery, uh…”

He trails off, sits up a little straighter, and she does too, pushing herself up and turning a little to face him, one hand in the sand to keep her upright and the other around her belly. Instead of speaking, he cups her cheek and leans forward to kiss her, a slow press of his mouth against hers, one that lingers until she parts her lips under his.

It’s almost enough to make her want to cry again, emotions a little raw after seeing how happy he was at feeling their daughter move, and after he pulls away she tucks her face against his shoulder and just lets him hold her so she can pull herself back together. He rubs his hand up and down her back, not speaking, just… just being there for her.

Like he always is.

Like he always will be?

“Fuck, those pendejos are back.” His whole body stiffens up, his arm tightening around her while his other hand reaches for a weapon he doesn’t have with him. “They got a drone, here, pull the towel up…”

Avery twists to look over her shoulder out at the ocean where, sure enough, a drone is floating, almost definitely taking pictures of them, if not a vid. James is still trying to shield her from its view when she loses patience with the situation and turns enough to lift her right arm at it, throwing a quick Warp at the little machine.

It crushes under the weight of the mass effect field surrounding it, and the whole contraption drops right into the ocean.

“There,” she says, flooding anger drowning out all her other emotions. “Problem fucking solved.”

James is still staring where the drone was, the muscles of his jaw working, and it takes him a second to say, “They can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t know what’s going to fucking stop them. How did they find out where we are?”

He meets her gaze, finally, and she can practically feel the tension boiling off of him. “I don’t know, but I know someone who can find out. We should go inside.”

—

The revelation that he knows the Shadow Broker has Avery sitting silently on the kitchen stool and staring at him for so long that James actually starts to feel uncomfortable, maybe a little guilty for not telling her earlier, but he’s never had to. 

How should he have worked that into conversation? “Hey, birdie, I love you, I want you to live with me in Brazil, and I served for months alongside the Shadow Broker, once time she picked me up with her biotics at a party and I almost got a boner in front of all my COs?”

Maybe not that last part.

The first bit, he definitely should say.

Although, circling back to the part about the stasis field, if he did tell her that, she’d probably do it to him too, just to tease him, maybe to rile him up like she did that one time when they were using the handcuffs…

Liara agrees to do what she can from where she is, and James knows better than to ask more questions, and he tears his mind away from thoughts of misusing stasis fields because Avery’s reading something on her omnitool with an increasingly sour look on her face.

Really, he’d rather see her crying again than making that particular expression.

“Uhh… Birdie?”

She gives him a quick, sharp look, then starts to read aloud: “ ‘James Vega Dating Alec Ryder’s Daughter? We’ve been hearing gossip that Alliance Heartthrob James Vega is off the market! Photographs showing him celebrating the New Year and the good weather with a young woman have surfaced, but no one knew who the mystery girl was — until now. Rumor has it that she’s Avery Ryder, daughter of the disgraced N7 Alec Ryder. You might remember him as the soldier who was dishonorably discharged in 2184 for building an illegal artificial intelligence.’ ”

She stops reading and doesn’t look at him for a long moment, and when she finally does, there are tears in her eyes.

“Alec is well on his way to another galaxy, and he’s still fucking ruining everything. I can’t even—” Her voice cracks, and he’s around the counter and pulling her into his space before he has time to think about it. She’s stiff, leaning against him but not quite holding him back as he tries to calm her down. “I can’t even have a vacation or a fucking… I hate him.”

He kisses the top of her head and rubs her back. She still smells like the ocean. “I know, birdie. I’m sorry.”

“And it’s bullshit, because they’re still calling me by his name, when I’ve done so much on my own, so much more than him and his stupid AI and the stupid Initiative.”

“I know.” What else can he say? At least her body relaxes a bit, leaning harder into him, bringing her arms up to wrap around his waist too. “We can—”

She interrupts him, but he doesn’t think she meant to, and he doesn’t know what he was going to say anyway. “And that sucks too, because if I wasn’t Avery fucking Ryder, then this wouldn’t have happened.” Under her breath, like she’s said it a million times, she adds, “I need a new fucking name. At least then it would take a little extranet searching to get to Alec’s bullshit.”

“Avery Vega sounds pretty good.” His mouth moves without his permission, spilling his secrets, the words he’s been thinking but hadn’t been willing to say yet because he wasn’t sure how she’d react, prickly as she can be sometimes.

If he wasn’t certain about bringing it up when she was in a good mood, what the hell is he doing bringing it up now?

She stiffens in his arms, waits a second, and then sits up straight. She keeps her hands on his waist so he can’t move away.

“James.”

He’s stared down reapers; he can do this. He meets her eyes and runs his hands up her arms, then when she doesn’t flinch away, cups her jaw with both of them.

“Avery.”

“What the fuck are you saying to me right now.” She doesn’t pitch her voice up like it’s a question, but he knows it is, he knows the underlying questions there too, the ones she’s feeling in every fiber of her being but will never say out loud.

“Uh…” Okay, maybe this isn’t a conversation to have while he’s towering over her. He lets go of her face and sits on the other stool, settling his weight on it with a little more care than he needs to, because he’s stalling for time, but there’s no way to avoid this conversation now. He’s been wanting to bring it up since he saw her glowering at the airport, and it’s finally going to happen. “I don’t want you to go back to London.”

She blinks at him and raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t look angry or anything, not like she’s about to turn him down, so he settles in to explain his side of things to her.

“You’ve told me about a dozen times that you don’t want me dropping out of N-school--”

“Because I don’t.” Her response is fierce and immediate, like it always has been, so he nods at her so she’ll know he hears it.

“But I don’t want you to be on the other side of the planet. I don’t want you to go through labor alone because I couldn’t get out of Brazil; I don’t want… I don’t want our daughter growing up even for a couple of years thinking I don’t want to see her.”

He hesitates as he says the last bit, because he knows it’s a sore subject for her. It’s one of the main problems she had with Alec before everything happened with her mother, but he’s not saying it to manipulate her into staying. He doesn’t ever want to come to London for a visit only for their little girl not to recognize him because he’s been away for six months.

Her eyes fill with tears like he thought they might, and he winces as he reaches out to take her hands in his. She lets him hold her like that, his thumb stroking over her knuckles, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“When you told me about this, you said you didn’t want to ask me for anything. You’re not asking me. I’m asking you. Come live here, with me.” She’s still not looking at him, and her face is slowly turning more and more red, and he doesn’t know what it means so he just presses on. “I found some apartments we could go look at, or get a virtual tour, near the Alliance base and my school, and I really think this can work, birdie. I want to give it a shot.”

He falls silent, finally, and waits.

She sniffs and pulls one hand free to wipe at her nose, but she doesn’t let go of his other hand. It seems like a good sign that she’s still trying to touch him, but he isn’t really sure what to make of the rest of it.

Why is she taking so long to talk to him?

Is she going to turn him down?

“You really want me here in your space all the time? It would be easier to just visit me and a screaming baby when you want to.”

She’s not looking at him, and he pushes past the surge of irritation he feels at her words. It wouldn’t be easier. It would be so much harder for him, for both of them. Can’t she see that?

“I want to see you every day for the rest of our lives.”

She inhales sharply, another wet gasp that makes his heart clench. “You do?” She meets his gaze with a hesitance that’s so different from how she usually looks at him, the self-confidence she usually wears like armor cracked and crumbling.

If he can just convince her he’s telling the truth, he thinks she’ll agree without looking back.

“Fuck yeah.” He pauses as her expression doesn’t shift, and then just goes for it, she knows anyway, has to have guessed it by now, and he’s so fucking tired of not saying it. “I love you, birdie.”

She blinks at him again and then she’s all up in his space, arms around his shoulders and face pressed against his neck. He rocks back on the stool and nearly falls, but he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her as tight as she’s holding him, pressing little kisses to her head as she shakes all over.

He doesn’t really know what to do here, so he tries the only thing he can think of, and just keeps talking. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier…?”

She stands up straight so suddenly that she nearly clips his chin on the way. Her eyes are red-rimmed and wet but bright under all that, a smile almost too big for her face gracing her mouth.

“You love me,” she says, proud, like she discovered a secret and he hadn’t admitted it to her ten seconds ago. “You want to move in together.”

Uh. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what she’s getting at, exactly, but she looks happier than he’s ever seen her and she’s still got her hands on him, and when she descends on his mouth he doesn’t even consider pulling away so they can finish talking.

He kisses her back because he can’t say no to her, ever, and because he loves her and he loves kissing her, and when she licks at his lips he opens up to her and slides his tongue along hers. He pulls her closer, as close as he can, so their skin is pressed together and he can practically feel her heart beating against his chest.

When he gives in to temptation and starts to kiss along her jaw to her throat, she finally starts to talk too. “I can’t fuckin’ believe…” She trails off and puts her hands on his jaw to direct him to look her in the face. “I love you.”

He can’t help it. He kisses her again as he starts to laugh, just because he’s too happy not to.

He should’ve told her when he picked her up at the airport.

He should’ve told her the first time he thought the words, back in London.

He brushes his hands up her sides, then just rests them on her belly. He doesn’t know if their daughter is moving right now, can’t feel her, but it doesn’t matter. He knows she’s there, and he loves her so much already he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

He knows one thing to do with himself.

“So you’ll move down here?”

“We can talk about it,” she says, but she’s smiling so he knows it’s a real offer, not one to get him to shut up. “I’ll have to put in for a transfer, and by the time that gets approved I’ll probably be going out on maternity leave, so…” She trails off, looking thoughtful. “You’re really ready for all this?”

He’s not entirely sure. He wants to be near her, and he wants to get to know their daughter, and he’s terrified of being a dad and of being a husband and of the possibility of hurting her.

The one thing he knows for sure is that he never wants to let her down, ever.

So, he nods.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid, but I know this is what I want. You, her, us all together. I love you.”

Her cheeks turn a little pinker, but she doesn’t look away this time, doesn’t start to cry again, just holds his face in her hands. 

“I love you, too.”

“C’mere.” He pulls her back to him, hand on the back of her head so she’ll rest it against his shoulder, and just… holds her.

This feels right.

She nuzzles closer, sighing in contentment as he rubs his hand over her back. He knows that she has something to say before she starts to speak because she starts to trace little patterns on his skin with her fingers, probably chasing after the green light she always says she hates but always tries to play with.

“So what was all that about ‘Avery Vega’?”

He draws in a deep breath and lets it out slower than he needs to, drawing out the time he has to answer. It wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out, but he knows she wants him to say it out loud, probably wants the whole song and dance and the traditional nonsense that surrounds this sort of thing.

He hadn’t even meant to bring it up, it has just spilled out of him against the storm of her emotions. They should have done the whole ‘I love you’ thing first, then the ‘move in with me’ thing, and then he could have brought up the ‘Avery Vega’ thing.

He did this in the exact opposite order, and now there’s not really a romantic way to ask, because she already knows what’s about to come out of his mouth. She just wants to hear it.

“It sounds good, doesn’t it? Avery Vega…” He trails out the Vs, and smiles into her hair when he feels her giggle in his arms. 

“It’s growing on me.” She nuzzles a little closer like the admission embarrassed her, and he traces his fingers up her spine as he thinks about his next words.

“I told you before, I’m all in. I’ve been all in. I want you and everything that comes with you. I want you to move here, I want you to live with me, and I want you to marry me.”

There.

He said it.

It’s out there, and she’s going to have to decide what she wants to do with it, because it’s so far out of his hands now he isn’t sure what else to do.

She’s silent for a long time, long enough that a coil of dread starts to tighten in his stomach even though she’d seemed so open to the idea before.

Just when he starts to think he’s well and truly fucked himself, she stands up straight and kisses him.

It doesn’t feel like an answer, he can’t pull a yes or a no out of the way her lips are moving against his, but he tilts his head and kisses her back with everything he has in him, kisses her back until her shaking hands start to scratch at his shoulders to keep herself upright.

She’s the one who breaks away this time, but she doesn’t move far, resting her forehead against his. She keeps her eyes closed as she says, “I’m all in, too.”

James stands up and takes her with him, lifting her into his arms as she shrieks and then starts to laugh. He spins her, just once, and then he puts her on the counter and pulls her face to his to kiss her.

He can’t help it.

He never wants to stop kissing her, so he doesn’t try, just stands before her with his hands on her thighs and licks into her mouth like he’s tasting the rest of the words she hasn’t said yet. She’s just as happy to let him, kissing him right back with her legs around his waist and her hands on the back of his head, fingers scraping through the short, soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

He’s just about ready to pick her up and carry her to the bed, lingering tastes and scents from their morning on the beach be damned, when a chime sounds from his omnitool. He reluctantly pulls away, only because he’s waiting to hear back from Liara about what they can do to salvage their privacy, and he lets Avery go to the shower with one last kiss so he can take care of things.

The temptation to just follow her in there is almost too much, but this is slightly more important.

If they’re all in, he’s gotta make sure she’s safe.

—

Avery can’t stop shaking. She woke up this morning with the end of her vacation looming over her, absolutely determined to talk to James about how she felt, and then… he did it for her.

He was the brave one, he brought it up, he asked her to move here, said he loves her, said he wants to marry her — are they engaged now? Is he her fiancé? 

Tears she’d normally never admit to are making her eyes sting, and she holds them back the best she can as she scrubs the ocean off her skin and out of her hair. It’s so long now, but she’s waiting to cut it until she can’t stand it anymore, and James has been extra attentive to it so she knows he likes it.

She finds a thick strand of it still braided as she works in the shampoo, and she half-laughs half-sobs with the discovery.

Christ, she loves him.

They pass each other as she leaves the bathroom, hair (properly) braided so it’ll dry in waves without her having to do anything with it, and James pushes her up against the door frame to kiss her senseless again before disappearing into the shower.

She thinks about joining him, but decides she’ll just surprise him when he finishes up.

It’s easy enough to arrange herself on the bed so he’ll get a full view of her naked body when he walks out of the bathroom, and she props herself up with pillows so her back won’t start hurting and stretches her legs out before putting her right hand between them.

She feels a little awkward like this, tempted to cover herself up with clothes or part of the sheet or even her towel, unused to the extra weight and how her body’s shape is changing.

The only thing that stops her is remembering how James has been reacting so far. It’s not that he doesn’t like it and is ignoring it, he either doesn’t care or actively likes it about her. She’s not sure which, and now isn’t the time to ask, because the water’s shut off in the shower and she knows she just has a couple minutes before he’ll come out to see what she’s up to.

She settles back into the mound of pillows and closes her eyes, lets herself think about what James looks like in the shower with his muscles all flexed (because he knows she likes it, he knows she’ll be watching) and the water dripping off them. She could follow the lines of his tattoos with her tongue, stop to tease one of his dark nipples to a point with her teeth, follow the shape of his abs down to the vee of his hips and take him in her mouth…

Her fingers work fast, the circular motion over her clit one she’s well used to making when she can’t be bothered to actually reach over and grab a toy out of her drawer, and she lets herself make tiny noises as she waits for James to open the door. 

It feels good, and she knows she’s getting wetter as she works herself, but it would be better if James would hurry the fuck up. 

She uses her other hand to cup one of her breasts, kneading it for a second before she starts to pinch at her nipple, and the noise she makes this time is accidentally a little louder, and James might have heard that from the other side of the door but that’s okay, because she’s about two seconds away from just fucking herself on her fingers because patience has never been her strong point.

The bathroom door opens, finally, and she opens her eyes to see James standing with his towel still around his waist and his jaw hanging open. His gaze is locked on her hand between her legs, so she opens her knees a bit more and watches as he snaps his jaw shut and swallows hard. Her gaze snags between his legs too, watching as his cock takes an interest in the show, slowly making its presence known in the form of a growing bulge under the white terry cloth.

She can actually hear him clearing his throat before he starts to speak, so she looks up to meet his gaze in time to catch him tearing his eyes away.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

It’s hard not to smile at that, but she forces herself to pout a little. “You were taking forever in there.”

He rolls his eyes at her and she thinks she hears him call her a brat as he drops his towel right there in the bathroom doorway on his way to her.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed with a painful-sounding thunk and drags her to him with his hands on her ankles. It yanks her out of her cocoon of pillows and she laughs, delighted, wrapping her thighs around his neck so he can’t pull away.

It’s too hard to look down her body at him now, so she just stretches her arms up over her head and lets him get to work, licking up the mess she made before settling in to make one of his own.

He works her slower than he usually does, like he wants to draw it out, and she leans into it, riding the waves of pleasure as he gives them to her with his tongue and then, after a while, his fingers too. It’s perfect and she grinds against his face even though she told herself she’d stay still, trying to pull her own orgasm out of him practically by force.

It makes him moan against her, and when she twists enough to look at him, she can see the steady motion of his free hand that lets her know he’s working his cock where she can’t see it.

That’s what gets her, that’s the last thing she needs to push her over the edge when he’s already fucking her with his tongue like she’s her favorite treat: the visual confirmation that he’s enjoying this almost as much as she is.

She comes with her thighs locked around his head and his name caught on his tongue, and he licks her through it, holds her against him when the high crest of pleasure starts to fade and she tries to squirm away, licks her until she starts to build up to a second high… and then he pulls away.

He wipes his face and climbs up the bed next to her, leaning down to kiss her when she doesn’t move, tangling his hand in her damp hair to hold her still so he can lick into her mouth and share her taste still on his tongue.

“Scooch.” He pulls at her arms to encourage her to move up from the edge of the bed, back to the pillows, and she helps him as much as she can when he seems determined to arrange her in the most comfortable way possible, propped up a bit by the pillows.

She starts tugging right back when she’s comfortable, yanking until he chuckles from low in his chest and settles between her legs, his body pressed as close to hers as he can.

They won’t be able to make love like this for too much longer. Another couple of weeks and the way he bends to kiss her as he slips inside her wouldn’t be possible, but she just wraps arms and legs around him and moans into his open mouth as he bottoms out, grinding his pelvis exactly right to put pressure on her clit.

He lifts himself up just enough to give himself leverage to start some slow, deep thrusts, one of his hands finding hers and twining their fingers together. She puts her other hand on the back of his head and pulls him down for another lingering kiss, her eyes feeling a bit wet when their lips meet.

Fuck, this is perfect.

Who would’ve thought?

“Oh god, James…”

He hits her just right and she clenches around him, shivering, arching her back and calling his name again. He leans into her and bites at the tendon in her neck, sucking a little even though he’s been good about leaving marks so far, and she just giggles and tries to make him fuck into her faster by planting her heels on the mattress and meeting his thrusts with ones of her own.

It works, though he doesn’t let go of her hand, just holds on tighter as he presses his face to her throat and pushes harder into her, just like she wanted, and she holds on as tight as she can manage.

She can’t wait to spend the rest of her with this man.

She comes again with that thought at the front of her mind, James’ fingers around hers and his hair caught in her fist. She whimpers and calls his name and holds him tight, and he tries to fuck her through it, she can tell he tries, but he can’t stop his last few thrusts from pitching him right over the edge too.

He groans and pushes as deep as he can into her, filling her better than anyone else she’s ever been with, and he spills into her because she loves it when he does.

He doesn’t pull out as he calms down, just stays deep inside her and presses gentle kisses all over her skin, everywhere he can reach, then finally gives in and meets her mouth with his when she impatiently yanks on his hair again.

Their kiss is long and lingering, gentle, and she almost wants to cry again when he finally has to pull away. He falls to the side and pulls her body against his instead of letting her move to get cleaned up. He just tucks her head under his chin and holds her close with one hand as his other sweeps soothing circles up and down her side.

She bites her lip to keep her swirling emotions in check, but she’s only able to hold back for a few minutes before she starts to giggle. His hand hesitates in its motion, and she thinks he must be confused, but she can’t stop it.

She’s just so goddamn happy.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words muffled against his chest. “I just… I love you.”

She can feel him relax against her.

“I love you, too.” A pause, then, “You’re really gonna move down here? We’re really getting married?”

She’s still giggling. “Yeah. Yeah, show me those apartments you found, and I’ll put in a transfer when I get back. I, uh, we should make sure we like living together before we get married, I think, but I want to try. I can’t wait.”

He squeezes her in a hug, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she’s shaking with laughter and squirming to get away so she can breathe.

“I can’t wait either, birdie.” He doesn’t let her go, holding her tight and kissing her between words as she starts to laugh even harder. “I love you.”

She wiggles away, nearly punching him in the face as she escapes his grip. She swoops back in at the last minute, kissing his lips a little too hard. “I love you, too.”

[aweirdkindofyellow]

The Royal Invitation, Pt.3

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 3

Winny’s POV:

I was stood beside my father. Together, we were looking out over the sea of people in the ballroom. It felt exceptionally strange standing there in an area usually used for celebration with a funeral coming up so soon. But we had to accommodate all our guests in some way or another. At least everybody was acting different to usual. There wasn’t any loud music playing and people weren’t dancing. This was just a reception before dinner. Anybody who was relevant or important was here now. It was custom here for a royal death to be a large long event.

The dress I was wearing had been made in quite a hurry. Usually they’d take a few weeks or even months to get me fitted before a big event, but once again this time it was different. I had only arrived a few days ago and they had started on my mom first. Honestly, I would have just pulled out a dress from my closet, but I couldn’t even try that anymore. Eyes were on me. I might not have been on the throne, but people were now watching closely for the future.

I couldn’t really complain though. I got clothes designed and made especially for me. What person didn’t like that? The black dress cinched at the right height and the right tightness around my waist. Further down, the hem of the flowing skirt stopped just above the ground, measured and cut precisely. And then the lace short sleeves didn’t even look bunched up either. Not even I could buy something like this in a store.

My dad raised up his glass just the slightest bit, grabbing the small spoon from the polished silver tray a servant was holding. The clinking sound of metal hitting crystal glass rang through the entire room, silencing everything and everyone. All attention was turned to my dad, meaning I was in complete view. Luckily all I had to do that day was stand there for support.

“Now that we are all here,” my father started, his voice somehow reaching the furthest corners of the hall, which was something I had yet to learn, “I would like to thank you all for being here. Although our king, my father, had been ill for a while, his passing still came as a shock. I will forever be grateful to every one of you.”

As he held up his glass everybody with a drink did so back. Most took a sip and then went back to their previous conversations.

The speech might have seemed so short and insignificant, a nuisance if anything. But that wasn’t the case at all. This was exactly how things were done. It was some left over thing back from centuries ago. Alliances, partnerships, and deals were all tense and at risk of crumbling when the king died. It was up to the next king to keep them going. Nobels from around the country and continent would come out for the funeral. The new king would have to show his loyalty without seeming vulnerable and easy to manipulate. It was an art, really. How do you show loyalty and grief without seeming weak?

It was custom for the king not to have to move to talk to people at events like these. Everybody who wanted to speak to him came up to him. It meant that constant conversations were held. I was there at his side the entire time. Technically, I didn’t have to, but it looked the best. Standing with him meant that I got to listen in on everything and so understood the politics for in the future. But showing constant interest would eventually get tiring especially since I didn’t really get much of a say. The occasional people who did include me were refreshing and definitely got a stamp of approval in my dad’s book.

Eventually a man just a few years older than my dad and a guy around my age came up to us. I had seen the man before, but never this person with him. I could only assume it was his son. They both had a very similar bone structure, deep set eyes and a slightly sloped nose. Their suits had a few medals which I once used to know all the meanings of but not anymore.

“Your Royal Highness, your Majesty.” They both bowed.

“Larnamont!” My dad greeted back as I did a subtle curtsy, holding his arms out to show he was literally welcoming them with open arms.

“I wanted to introduce my eldest son, Lysander,” Larnamont gestured towards the boy, smiling proudly and with some sort of expectancy.

My dad gave a small nod while I held out my hand and waited for Lysander to shake it.

“Nice to meet you.” I smiled brightly as he took it. As I went to look into his eyes, my gaze flickered past Alex in the background.

He was standing there taking a glass of some sort of brown-toned liquor from one of the waitresses. Coincidentally, he was already looking right back at me. Rather than immediately breaking away his gaze, like I did, he continued to stare and took a sip from his drink. He was one strange man. Luckily, over my time as a princess, I had had to deal with many different types of people. There was nothing I couldn’t ignore.

Larnamont really did come over to us just to introduce Lysander. There wasn’t really any other small talk, but it also wasn’t necessary. Now wasn’t exactly the right time for that. People just paid respects, any more could only be considered rude. So, Larnamont and Lysander left us soon after. However, I knew I would have to find them later. An introduction was made after all.

Luckily, the next person who came up to us wasn’t as much of a stranger. It meant I could relax a little bit and not have to worry as much about my duties and composure. This man had taught me a lot and continued to do so. He was more like an uncle figure who still needed to be treated a bit more officially. He was the one and only Garry.

“Your Royal Highness, your Majesty,” he greeted and bowed just like everybody else.

“Garry!” I grinned and leaned forward to give him a half hug and a respectful kiss on the cheek. Strangers were either greeted by handshake or curtsey, friends were greeted in a more intimate way.

“So how have you been holding up?” He asked with a sympathetic tone. I hadn’t seen him yet since I came in from New York.

I looked up at my dad for him to answer. I could only imagine what it must have been like to suddenly become a ruler. The pressure must have been immense and all the jobs overbearing. One day I was going to have to do the same, but for now my dad was going through it.

“He’s asking you,” my dad looked down at me with a paternal smile.

“Well, you know how I always have to acclimatise myself again when I come back,” I responded, my answer directed at Garry. I knew he was asking about my grandfather’s death, but I could hardly show my feelings about that right now. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Likewise.” He gave me a slow single courtly nod. “Unfortunately I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other for very long. I’ll be going with your dad on his tour.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ll be leaving somebody who I trust dearly to take over and help: my step son. He should be around here somewhere,” Garry started to look around him, but only briefly as to not attract attention.

“I’ve met Alex,” I told him, causing a smile to form on his lips.

“Really! I hope he has been behaving.”

I started nodding, but then my eyes fell on Alex now all over the waitress from before. He was standing super close to her, his arm at her waist, his nose in her hair as she giggled. I immediately stopped my nodding and directed my eyes at Garry again, deciding not to tattletale.

“He has,” I calmed his worry before my shock became too apparent,” although I must say he’s one peculiar fellow. He did help me with an art piece I was working on.”

“Well, you guys must get along just fine then. He’s quite the artsy type himself. He’s a musician actually.”

“That explains a lot,” I laughed. Not only did it explain his, what seemed like, his strange talent for posing in front of a camera, but it also explained his tendency to be a flirt.

Right at that moment my mom walked up to us and stood at my dad’s other side. Her dress was also black to represent the mourning, only her was a lot tighter and more formal. She was older and the queen now after all.

“If you won’t mind, I’ll go mingle with some of the guests now,” I announced as I looked at both my mom and dad. Now that she was here I was no longer obliged to stay at the king’s side.

“You go do that.” My dad winked and dismissed that.

I didn’t know exactly who I was going to go to, but it soon became clear that Alex wasn’t even an option. He was still all over that waitress and she was still under his spell. Only, this time, they decided to make it a bit more private. I saw Alex take lead and slip out of the room, holding the waitress’ hand and pulling her along. If I had been back in New York or not in public, I would have definitely rolled my eyes.

The next familiar face I looked for was my brother. He was somewhere further in the back speaking to my cousins. They were all younger than me, so they always got a long together a little better. It also didn’t help that I usually was in the study with private tutors and teachers getting a special education to prepare me for my inevitable future job.

Lucky for me, just as I was making my way over to them, I noticed Lysander standing by himself trying to catch my attention. He already had a drink in one hand and picked up another as he gestured that it was for me. So, I smiled politely and slowly floated over to him so nobody would mistake my actions as eager.

“Thank you very much.” I gently took the glass of wine from him, careful not to let the fragile material shatter.

“It’s been a real honour being allowed to join on such an occasion.” He did the traditional thing of being grateful and loyal, but it made for a very difficult conversation.

I didn’t know how to respond other than to accept what he said. There was nothing in particular he was beneficial for either except for the fact that he was the heir in the Larnamont family. A good connection to keep, but I had nothing to thank him directly for. He was still learning the ropes of his family. As was I, of course, but it was still different.

Fortunately, Lysander wasn’t as strict in traditions and rules as his father. He could also clearly sense that this silence was just a second away from turning really awkward.

“You know, my father has told me many stories about this castle,” he confessed. “Ever since I was a little boy, I tried to imagine what it was like. But it’s even more spectacular than I imagined.”

“It has been quite a nice place to grow up in.” I smiled softly, remembering all the good times I had with my brother when we were much younger. I had to remind myself not to take it for granted. As much as I longed for the simple life in New York, I was very lucky.

“There’s so much history here, it’s fascinating.” He looked up at the ceiling and took some time to admire the paintings and gold leaf.

“This room was only built in the 17th century, but there are parts left over from the original 11th-century castle.”

He looked at me with wide eyes. “Only 17th century! Eleventh– I can’t even imagine that amount of time. Wow.”

“I actually have a whole collection of books all about the history of the castle, all the way from the beginning. I could lend you a couple.”

“You would do that?”

I chuckled quietly and nodded. “I rarely meet anybody with such interest. Who would I be to withhold all that information from you.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Let me go get them now before other duties sweep me away.”

I excused myself and slipped through the door Alex had sneaked out just shortly before. Although the castle was quite large, luckily my library wasn’t too far away. The grand staircase was just through the short corridor with two other doors. My heels clicked loudly on the steps, echoing off the walls with paintings.

The corridors felt even more empty than usual knowing that everybody was collected in the ballroom.

After just three minutes, my hand was grazing the gold-toned handle on the old wooden door again. I could still remember how I could barely open it as a kid; I always had to lean against it or pull with all my weight, it was that heavy. But it was also secure. Now I could open that door in one swift movement.

Although I wished I couldn’t. I wished I could have opened it slowly to shield myself from what was inside.

There were already people in my library. But they weren’t there reminiscing about good times with my grandpa or enjoying a good book. The two bodies were completely naked and intertwined on the custom desk my grandpa had gotten made.

“Oh my god!” I screamed, not bothering to close the door behind myself like I usually would. “What the actual fuck is this?!”

“Oh, shit,” Alex gasped as he looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with me.

“Are you fucking shitting me!”

Alex immediately removed himself from the girl he had swooned downstairs. He stood there frozen while the girl tried to grab all her clothes as quickly as possible while simultaneously hiding her face.

“Oh, come on, Elsie,” I scoffed, feeling the rage now course through my blood like fire. “I fucking know who you are. I saw you all over each other downstairs.”

“I-I’m so s-sorry,” she stammered, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, “p-please don’t fire me.”

I didn’t say a word in response to her plea. Although I had the authority to fire any of the help, I had never actually done so before. I was seriously considering it. She was supposed to be downstairs doing her job. But I couldn’t risk it. I’d have to explain my grounds and it would ruin Garry.

I just waited until she scurried away with all her clothes clutched to her chest. With her now gone, I tried my best to walk past Alex calmly and collected as I refused to even look in his direction. There was somewhere I actually had to be, and I wasn’t going to get distracted any further from my goal. That didn’t mean I was actually okay now, though.

“You, umm, you look good,” Alex told me awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier.”

“Fuck off,” I seethed and pushed away the rolling ladder to have access to the first book.

“Oh, umm–”

“No.” I stopped him as I pulled out the book and spun around to look at him. “Shut up.”

I was planning to walk out of these without looking back, but when I walked past Alex for the second time that day, I changed my mind. I wasn’t done. He didn’t get to walk away unscathed.

“My grandfather fucking dies and breaks breaks this stupid shithole of a tradition. I get to inherit one thing. He fucking leaves me behind this library. And now you have to come and ruin it. Go suck a dick,” I spat and continued my path, the sound of the heavy door shutting rushing down the hallways.

[httphoneyb]

Fatal | Mobster!Tom x OC!

Summary: Violet Thorne and Tom Holland are both on opposing sides in the midst of a mob war. What happens when fatal collides with dangerous?

t w o

--

"Dad, I don't know what you want me to do here!" Violet sighed loudly throwing her hands in the air. Her father watching her pace back and forth infront of his desk.

"My love, I don't understand why you insist on me giving my seat to your brother. You are my first born thus, it's yours," he explained in a hushed tone.

"I want out of this dad! I've been trying to get out of this! And I can't do that i-if you keep dragging me back in!" Violet didn't understand how her father couldn't comprehend what she's been trying to say for the past hour.

The skin on her arm felt raw. Her nails dragged across it continuously since the topic was brought up.

"Then explain to me why, Violeta!" He stood slamming his hands on the dark oak desk.

Violet knew he had a rule about speaking to his children calmly, reserving his assertive voice for their enemies and prisoners.

He was always a gentle man around her and her brothers, some would say you wouldn't be able to tell he ran a mob while he was around his children. This circumstance was a rarity in her family.

So she stood and let the silence envelope the room.

"Exactly my point. You have no reason for wanting to be out of the business. Not a valid one anyway."

When in fact she did.

Her whole life Violet watched her brothers grow up like soldiers. As soon as they could walk, a gun was placed into their hands and the boys were taught how to shoot.

She didn't want a family like that. She's terrified to have a family like that.

"This could all be yours, my love. This...this empire was built on first borns, you are to continue it on. I'm growing old, Violeta. I need you to take my place. Especially when we're in the midst of a war."

"A war?"

"The Hollands have been crossing multiple mob boundaries in the past months. They're making alliances with the Diaz mob and broke their truce with the Rizzos. They're expanding. I can't do this on my own, Violeta."

"Pappa but you're not on your own..theres five other boys in the house waiting to take your spot. Leo has a knack for this, Dad. Use him!"

He chuckled lowly, "We both know you'd give Leonardo a run for his money."

"That's not my point. What I am saying is tha-" Violet was cut off by Luca, the youngest of the six, as he swung the wooden doors open doors open.

"We found the mole," was all he said before turning around and leaving.

"Mole? What mole?" Violet walked with her father out of his office, confusion written all over her face.

"Some of our info was leaked and other mobs got ahold of our shipments, drug and weapon outlets, even some safe houses." She could feel her father getting angrier as she reached the basement of their mansion.

"What?!"

Angelo, the third oldest joined them, "We found a usb full of our shipment dates and outposts. It was a cook, says the Hollands sent him."

Of course it was

She watched her father take out knives and guns as he headed for the lowest floor. The mere smell of that place made her stomach churn.

"You coming?" Angelo stopped midstep and turned to her.

"Yeah I'm just gonna save myself the trouble and head out for the day," Violet backed away from the flight of stairs.

"Hey Vi..just so you know, you're gonna have to suck it up one day, this job has no place for personal morals," Angelo turned around and decended the stairs, leaving Violet chewing at her lip.

What if he was right?

What if she really just needed to suck it up?

What if this was meant for her?

What if

What if

What if

Wh-

"Earth to Violet!" Leo waved a hand infront of her face.

The raven haired girl was dragged out of her own throughts.

"Tom wants to talk to you." Leo whispered, afraid that their father someone would hear.

Violet's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Tom? Tom Holland?"

"Yes Tom Holland! Who else!" Her brother sighed in annoyance, "He sent a letter this morning, good thing I got to it before Dad."

A light blue envelope was placed in her hand.

"A letter? Guy doesn't own a phone?" she scoffed, eyes skimming through the writing, the letters were smooth and neat, contrasting the many wrinkles on the paper.

"He's traditional I guess. Whatever. It just says he wants to meet with you to discuss some things blah blah blah...some thing about weapons yadda yadda.." Leo talked animatedly. His hands always waving around as he spoke.

"Why not Dad? I'm not in charge."

"Dad has it out for him, he's paranoid these days. Thinks everyone's out to get him."

"And what if it's a trap?"

"I'll have men tail you for protection, but other than that I think this is you know...good."

"Good? Good how?"

"Look, I don't wanna see this war that Pappa's been talking about happen. People will die. If theres a way to stop it, I think only you can pull it off."

"As much as I'm flattered, there's no point in me talking to him. I'm not taking Dad's place."

Leo rolled his eyes at his stubborn sister.

"No one said anything about that! Just go talk to him and see what he wants!"

"Fine."

"Yes!"

"But-"

"Oh no."

"You have to handle that southwest gang of criminals scamming our casinos."

"Ugh."

---

"Have they replied?" Tom asked as Harrison walked into the room.

"She's on her way now, actually. Eager girl," Harrison chuckled. "What do you want with her anyway?"

"Nothing harmful. Just trying to see if she could hold her own." Tom smirked as the burn of scotch travelled down his throat.

Violet rolled up to the front of the Holland mansion, a bit bigger than the Thorne's but then again, who's keeping track these days? Right?

Sam Holland walked to the car and opened the door for Violet. "Miss Thorne."

Violet took his hand and bent to look back at her driver in the car.

"When should I pick you up ma'am?"

"I'll call for you, Artie. Thank you." she smiled gratefully and followed the twin into the house.

"Bring a weapon with you, Thorne?" Harrison called from the top of the foyer.

"You think I'm gonna go into enemy territory without one?" she retorted. "Whoa! Kid! What're you doing!"

"Can't take any chances." Sam began to pat her down staring from her waist.

"Think we're gonna roll and show our bellies just cos you're a woman?" Harrison chuckled.

"I was counting on it.." she pouted as Sam seized her gun.

"Now there's no need for that ,Sammy." All of a sudden Tom appeared next to Harrison and started decending the stairs. "Don't you know how to treat a lady?" He grinned at her, "Let her keep the gun."

"Tom-"

"Let her keep the gun." Venom dripped from Tom's voice as he spoke slowly, "After all, this is just a casual talk right?" His eyes moved to hers, an ominous meaning behind his words unsettled her but stayed holding his gaze.

"Sure is." she took her gun back and slipped it on the band on her jeans as Tom looked behind her and whispered, "Then tell your men to turn around and go home."

Violet's heart dropped to her stomach and turned, the men Leo had sent with her we're parked outside the gates of the mansion, headlights turned off and obvious guns in hand. She sighed and called her brother.

"Yeah?"

"Tell them to go home." she said simply into the phone as Tom smirked at her.

"Vi, you can't be serious."

"Just do it."

She hung up the phone and threw a taunting smile at the boys before her.

"Follow me." Tom led Violet up the stairs and into what she assumed was his office. Much like her father's, the office was very manly and dark.

Taking a seat infront of his desk she asked, "Why am I here, Holland?"

"I want a cut of your drug profits." Tom said simply.

"And what do I get in return?" Violet leans forward to place her forearms on the desk.

"Safe travels. I know that for years your family has been funneling your weapons through my side of the city to get to them across the Atlantic. And for years my guys have been giving you trouble," Violet nods, pouring herself her own cup of scotch, "All I'm asking for is say..20% of your drug profits and I let your guys through with no hassle."

Violet finally breaks eye contact with Tom and doubles over in laughter, catching the mob boss off guard.

"20%?! Ha! You're delusional." She scoffs at him.

He stared at her with a look of both amusement and annoyance.

"Mr. Holland," Violet recollected herself as she sat with poise, sharp eyes looking at the man before her, "did you know that my family runs America's biggest underground drug cartel? We have 8 different bases across the country, and 2 abroad. Bringing in approximately twenty-million dollars a year each. You're asking me to cut 20% of my 200 million a year to..what," she did the math quickly in her head as Tom gaped at her in disbelief, "$160,000,000 for safe travels, as you put it, for one of our outposts?You've gone insane. Your men aren't anything mine can't handle. Now if you'll excuse me."

Tom ran his calloused hands up and down his face in exhaustion. Man she was a hassle.

"Wait."

Violet sat back down and looked at him in boredom.

"15%"

"Eight."

"Thirteen."

"Six."

"Fifteen."

"Six."

"Twelve."

"Three."

Tom cussed outloud and leaned back in his chair. "8% and I'll tell you what the Rizzo's down south are planning."

"Why would I care about some shithole mob?" Violet scoffed at his poor attempt to negotiate.

"They're trying to kill you."

Tom saw that what he said piqued the stubborn girls interest.

"Fine. 16 million a year. Now, tell me more."

Tom inwardly smirked at this, "They think that killing you would kill your empire. They know Robert would never give his seat to anyone else. And they also know you're refusing to take it. If you're gone..all they have to do is wait for your dad to die and your mob along with it."

The room was filled with silence as a million thoughts ran through Violet's mind.

"Huh," she chuckled.

She's laughing? Why would she be laughing at the fact someone's trying to kill her? Tom thought to himself.

"Guess that's just another thing on my list," she got up and slid her coat on, "enjoy your sixteen million, Holland."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Violet." The pair shook hands before Violet said, "Buy your share under a different name, my dad would never sell to a Holland."

"Will do," Tom walked her to the front door, "And for the record..I wouldn't mind you being the business, Violet. You'd be a worthy opponent." Tom complimented her genuinely.

Violet only looked back at him, winking she said, "You bet your sweet ass I'd be."

Tom chuckled as the click of her heels faded and Harrison was at his side.

"So...?"

"Ferocious that one.. smart too." Tom had a sly smile decorating his face.

"But I've got her right where I want her."

---

taglist:

@scuzmunkie

[hardraiin-blog1]

◟ * ◊ ─  joel kinnaman + cismale + he/his » * believe it or not dominick conte is working for the bianchi family. they are 34 years of age and are known to usually spend their time around the room. the gunman, who has been a part of the alliance for number of 16 years, has been living in victoria for 34 years. the people closest to them describe the heterosexual scorpio to be +ambitious and +loyal as well as -jealous and -stubborn » ◦ ° 

born to a large italian family in one of the poorest suburbs of victoria where career paths were more or less already laid out for you

most families had someone involved with the bianchi family and dom knew once he turned 18 he’d be able to join his peers as a member

he didn’t know any better and he was happy with what he had

despite his mother fleeing at the age of 9, she left him with 6 siblings and a father who put a roof over their heads 

as dom grew up, however, he realised that was all his father was good for 

drunken nights which often lead to violence meant that dom had to step up as the father figure in the family

he’s always been a traditional man, despite who he was surrounded by growing up, and had instilled in him strong italian values which was reflected in the way he brought up his siblings... like taking them to church on a sunday

so when the love of his life, valentina, got pregnant at the age of 17 he took it better than most boys his age would

after all, he was planning on proposing to her after they graduated high school anyway...

however, they lost the baby, which devastated them. dom joined the bianchi family’s ranks, as he was always set out to do, and their relationship became more and more strained

several years pass and his marriage is more turbulent than ever, especially with valentina’s new position as second in command of the lothario family

they file for divorce, but never get round to signing the papers. 

around the same time, dom’s father had picked up an awful gambling addiction, ended up in jail, and put their family under an immense amount of debt which had fallen on him and his siblings. 

some of them went to stay with their grandparents, but those that had already joined the alliance were working to repay the debts. it wasn’t enough.

one of dom’s uncles got in touch with him about a mercenary job. a hired gun for whoever needed someone or something to be taken care of. it’d be on the road but the money paid well. 

at this point, val and dom kept going back and forth so much he was about to get whiplash. he knew they wouldn’t work out if they stayed in victoria so he asked her to leave with him. she didn’t. he left and sent all the money to his siblings whenever the payment cleared. 

dom often returned to victoria for christmas and easter, and occasionally the odd birthday. but never made himself known until the recent murders. 

his spidey sense began tingling that some shit was about to go down. he fears for val and his family and knew it’d be easier to keep an eye on them all in victoria.

he picked his job back up as a gunman, throwing himself back into the very thing that he swore to leave behind

wcs

childhood friends - he grew up in a v poor neighbourhood but also was v involved with the bianchi fam + associates due to his dad and co.’s involvement with them and got v stuck into the gang lyf from an early age

younger sibs friends - dom has a lot of younger sibs who are npc atm (but i will throw up wcs when i get the chance) and he acted as a father figure to them so dom would def know most of their friends

pseudo-kids - due to his paternal vibe he’s grown very protective over a lot of the kiddos whether they’re his sibs’ friends or young bianchi muscle... just gimme Dad Dom and his children!!

enemies - dom is v loyal and is distrusting of lotharios. he aint a fake bitch either so it’d be a Known Thing

one night stands - dom is still madly in luv with val but a guy has needs u kno... 

killer killer - for the past 7 years, dom has been working as a hired gun, on the road, killin/hurtin ppl for money. if ur chara has someone that got murdered for whatever reason -- let dom be ur boi 

[jihoonmi]

hello!! ❣

hello mi!! i’m so excited to be here (again!!) many of you know me! i’m carly. i was previously @jeonggukxmi​ last time mi was open, and thankfully, i’ve returned with him-- same exact muse, but after undergoing some pretty drastic changes since i dropped him at the end of 2017. i also have my new little baby monster, jihoon here, whom i might be even more excited for (yes, for those of you that follow me on twitter, this is [redacted])

 for those of you that don’t know me, it’s great to meet you! i hope we’ll be fast friends ;w; a little bit about my history with mi, because a bitch is emo: i actually founded this roleplay back in 2014, first edition of mi-- murder inc. we closed after about three months because none of us were cut out for adminning at the time, and then we reopened mi again with some of the same staff and a new addition sometime at the end of 2015! i was actually mod of another roleplay at the same time i did that, and eventually had to step up to admin that and could not admin two roleplays, so i stepped down in mi, i think in 2016. that’s when our current champions, bek and abbie, stepped into the arena and grew mi into a wonderful community up until august of last year, when the last iteration of mi went on hiatus. now, we’re back with a new mi, better than ever!! and words cannot express how proud i am of bek and abbie and how grateful i am that they ended up inheriting the roleplay and making this new (beautiful!! showstopping!! spectacular!) version of it. it was divine intervention tbh, i’m convinced

AS SUCH i am so so happy to be here and get to be a part of this!! i apologize for the mi history lesson...i just got in my feelings. more importantly, the muses!! i have jeongguk’s profile here, and his full length novel of a life story is linked at the bottom. jihoon, on the other hand, has no pages because i’m a big flop, so i’ll put a rundown of him under the cut.

i’m going to try and avoid plotting on jihoon (see: try) because i’m holding myself hostage until i get at least a profile page done for him, but anyone that is interested in plotting with jihoon or jeongguk, please like this post. i’ll find my way to you as soon as i can so we can at least start talking, even if you want jihoon and i have to kindly ask you to wait on me hahaha. alternatively, contact me on twitter @taekaimoon! (i also have discord) feel free to follow me and talk to me even if we aren’t plotting, too ;w; onward!!

jihoon is a ‘99 liner, he will turn 20 at the end of may

born and raised on the island!

he is seemingly a human emoji, very ^o^ uwu ^ ^ on the outside, but do not be fooled, the cuteness is merely (mostly) an illusion meant to manipulate

in reality, his dad was a successful businessman due in part to making deals with all of the gangs. he never pledged loyalty to one, thus acting as a middleman of sorts. to his credit, he did build up his reputation and and fortune on his own, he wasn’t born into it

jihoon’s mother always dreamed of being a chef but worked most of her life as a seamstress, not ignorant to but ultimately avoiding the crime of the island, until she married her husband. true love flowed and prevailed and she didn’t leave his ass despite his shady dealings, and instead she learned to defend herself too

about a year before jihoon was born, jihoon’s dad surprised his mom on their anniversary with a deed to a building that would be their restaurant, co-owned by both of them. they named it the crow’s nest

jihoon was born not long after, and tcn’s head chef couldn’t just abandon her post, so jihoon essentially grew up in the restaurant

this was not any ordinary restaurant, however, and quickly became a neutral hub for gang activity, including but not limited to meetings, deals, and alliances, though they always exercised a no violence policy (sometimes resorting to violence themselves to enforce this)

therefore jihoon was exposed to the gangs very early on despite his mother trying to protect him, and grew desensitized to the dark side of myeongcho very quickly

since his mother couldn’t shield him from the reality of myeongcho, his father trained him to protect himself in it. thankfully, this was not in an unhealthy way, and consisted mostly of street smarts, self defense training, how to shoot a gun, and other useful things for someone frequently dealing with gangs

he’s never really had a normal life, and hasn’t really tried to. sometimes he resents this fact, but it’s rarely-- he usually enjoys it just fine

this has had some troubling impact on his personality, including but not limited to him being manipulative as hell and a spoiled little punk, having kleptomania, having a twisted nature, fixating on people instead of developing healthy feelings for them, and having a deeply sarcastic, controlling, and broody nature underneath all of his saccharine candy floss pretense. when his uwuing fails to manipulate you, sometimes the act will drop and he he’ll get a dark glint in his eye and turn all stone-faced and start threatening you and he Can back (most of) those up

he grew up “working” at the crow’s nest from as early as he can remember, but only really officially once he became a teenager, where he was a waiter. after he turned 19, his dad promoted him to manager and fired their old one. dad is in and out these days because he’s traveling back to the mainland a lot for a potential crow’s nest expansion, so jihoon is The Man In Charge when he’s away, yes he is way too young for this, no he does not think so

he has already confirmed shot a man dead and broken a plate over a man’s head to maintain order in the past year, and i’m sure he’s done more he hasn’t told me about yet 

somehow in spite of this the crow’s nest is still a largely trusted neutral establishment, and most people that come trust the staff to also remain neutral and protect all activity remaining civil. maybe their commitment to this aids that reputation?? maybe it hurts it?? we don’t know...you decide

@gahyeonmi is his cousin, but was essentially raised as his sister after her parents passed away early in their life. their relationship is...complicated, but he cares for her

he was pretty popular in high school because it turns out acting super friendly and cute even when you aren’t gets you that. he went to myeongmoon! he played soccer, and he dated a bit but decided pretty quickly that dating wasn’t for him because he just felt Nothing on an emotional level. also discovered pretty quickly that he likes boys, though he’s still not sure if that’s entirely exclusively or just a heavy bias

he’s now going to myeongcho university, studying pre-law with no intention to actually become a lawyer, he just thinks the knowledge is useful and figures he’ll inherit the restaurant anyway, and he’s fine with this

he picked up magic tricks in middle school because he needed a hobby, and since has become pretty passionate about it, TOTALLY not because it gives him an excuse to pickpocket people, not at all. his specialty is card tricks, but he’s not limited to that, and can also break out of some handcuffs and supposedly a straight jacket though he hasn’t actually tried that yet

yes, he is a thief. he steals things from everyone and keeps what he collects on a bookshelf in the dorm he shares with @mihaknyeon. he used to keep them in a display case back when he lived with his parents, yes he is a freak

he’s not just a pickpocket, he also picks up larger scale thief missions from the crow’s nest patrons that know his skillset, and as such has a little experience with everyone under the sun (his favorite gang to work with is lynx)

i think that’s all i’ve got, and SURELY it’s enough!! excuse me as i paste this word for word on his profile page thank you for reading! [jihoon vc] ^^

[symphonic-scream]

Difficult Times

Hibiki had been in Lit Class when the alarms sounded. His Mama had just instructed 1-A to pull out their reading homework from the night before when the lights cut out and the alarms rang out. The red emergency lights flashed, bathing the class in red light. They’d had three drills so far this year, so they all knew what to do. But it was the panicked look on Yaoyorozu Momo’s face that made Hibiki’s nerves surface. The class flooded for the door, but he hung back to look up at his Mama. “Is this a drill?” She shook her head, lightly pushing him out the door. “No, it’s not a drill, ‘Biki. Please, go to your dorm, follow procedure. Please.” The stress she put on her pleads made Hibiki want to cry, so he quickly embraced her before running after his class. Sero Chiaki was at the back with Hagakure Hiroki, who looked like he was hyperventilating. Ojirou Kazuya was glaring at anyone who looked back at him, while the class reps guiding the along the designated route. Once they were all inside the door to Alliance Heights, Hibiki flipped the lock, and joined his classmates in the living room. Someone had already drawn the curtains, leaving them in almost complete darkness, the only light coming from Himura Miyoko’s eyes. Hiroki was whimpering, clutching his head and curled into Chiaki’s side. “Is everyone here?” Akiyama Keiko whispered, leaning about to try to count everyone. “Hoshiko? You here?” “Yes.” A quiet voice  came from beside the couch. Hoshiko was hidden under Yoshida Fumiko’s arm, seeming surprisingly small despite being taller than the girl beside her. “I don’t remember another drill being on Pa’s schedule.” Bakushima Tadashi murmured, turning his red eyes to Hibiki. “Did your Mama mention anything? I saw that you left last.” “Well, I, uh.” Hibiki stuttered, trying to decide whether to tell them or not. “It wasn’t on her schedule, but it could be a special drill. I’ve heard of them running drills without telling the staff first before.” A click came from their door, and everyone turned to watch as it quickly opened, before shutting behind whoever had entered. Minata Yui, one of Awase Masuyo’s friends, waved, as she flipped on the lights. “Class 1-A, yeah?” “Who are you?” Keiko practically barked, standing defensively in front of the class. Yui held up her hands, smiling sheepishly. “Minata Yui, Class 3-F. I’m supposed to be supervising you guys.” “Then why did you turn on the lights?” Ishikawa Rai asked, squinting his cat-like eyes. It was against school policy to have any lights on during an emergency drill. “Look, this isn’t a drill, and due to special circumstances, you’re basically on house arrest, not emergency shut down.” “It’s not a drill?” Fujioka Katsumi squeaked, ducking behind Kita Tomoko. Yui sighed, taking a seat in one of the lounge chairs still set up from last night’s movie marathon. “Please, sit on a couch or something, and I’ll explain.”

-

So, things went from bad to so much worse. A terrorist group that had started in America had shown up in Musutafu today, attacking the city with all their might. All heroes, even those off call or teaching, were called in, along with the third year hero students. So, not only were both Hibiki’s moms out fighting dangerous terrorists, but his older brother was there too. If things went really bad, he’d have no family left. Hiroki was sobbing, clutching Chiaki, who was crying silently. Kazuya was sitting completely stunned on Hibiki’s right while Tadashi, on his left, stared down at his own hands. Tomoko was biting her lip, but was still comforting Katsumi. Tokoyami Hoshiko was hiding her face in Fumiko’s shoulder, and Hibiki, well, he wasn’t taking it too well either. He couldn’t get the image of himself sitting in Principle Aizawa’s office, his Uncle Tomohiro and his wife sitting beside him, as the news that he was orphaned and brother-less was repeated to him, over, and over, and over- He felt a warm hand enclose around his own, and raised his eyes to look at Tadashi. The black haired boy didn’t smile, but squeezed his hand, as if offering Hibiki support. Hibiki squeezed back, leaning into his best friend. Yui said it would be a long night; that when things were finally over, if any of their family were involved they’d be called down to be shuttled out to see them. Someone had turned on the TV, but had left it on the news. They were covering the attack, showing blurry shots of hundreds of heroes and students alike using their full power to keep the destruction where it was. Once in a while a green flash or explosion would go off, and once he swore he heard a blast of a Nickel Back song. Watching the footage was somehow both worse and better than not, until they watching one of the towering buildings begin to collapse. Yao-Managing Co.’s headquarters was falling fast, and Hibiki’s heart stopped. He knew deep down that everyone, including his Uncle Reiji and grandpa-Yorozu, had been evacuated hours ago, but he couldn’t help it. It hovered above on the spot for a spell, before slowly dropping to the ground safely. “Uravity.” He heard someone mutter in relief, before suddenly the footage was cut off. The class began to shout, before it cut back in. Half of the district was gone, leaving a large crater where downtown once stood. It was all too much for Hibiki, who ran towards one of the back rooms. He closed the door to the game room, hugging himself and panting, trying desperately to get the image of his family lying lifeless in that crater out of his head. Tadashi was by his side in a moment, tugging him close. His body ran warm, immediately chasing away the cold, chilling feeling that had settled in Hibiki’s stomach. “Hey.” He whispered, swaying slightly to a silent tune. “Are you alright?” “I don’t think so.” He mumbled, gripping his waist like a lifeline. “I just - why did Toshi have to go?” Tadashi hummed, dropping them both onto the largest beanbag. “I don’t know, Hibiki, but I do know he has Ryoko, and Daichi, and all our parents with him. They’re strong, and they took down the League.” Not once did Tadashi say things were going to be okay, and Hibiki suspected he understood that no one could guarantee that everyone would return in one piece. But he was right, after all. Toshiro was tough, as were Ryoko, Daichi, and the other teens he knew on the site. And the Pro Heroes, they had faced something similar and gotten out alive. “Thanks, Tadashi.” Hibiki whispered, cuddling closer to the warmer teen. He knew neither would be able to actually doze off, but sharing warmth away from the scenes of carnage on the screen was as close as they’d get. “Any time.”

-

It was maybe four hours later when Hadou Etsuko showed up to take them to the shuttle. She’d been in the school that day talking with Support Classes about career options,and as the oldest taking the shuttle, she was in charge. It wasn’t like anyone was going to misbehave. As they stopped by the middle and primary schools to pick up the others, the mood stayed dismal. When the youngest of Tadashi’s siblings, Takeo, had run onto the shuttle calling for his brother, Hibiki felt his heart sink. What would happen to Takeo if his dads were gone? He was only ten, after all. And losing his sister, the person he was closest to in this world? That would devastate him. When the shuttle pulled into the city’s main hospital, Hibiki froze. He knew that it would ruin him to find out his parents hadn’t made it, that Toshi was gone. Or, for that matter, any of his Aunts or Uncles. He couldn’t imagine Christmas without Denki dressing himself up like a tree. He couldn’t imagine Heroics class without Eijirou. He couldn’t imagine a world where Tenya didn’t patrol the halls, shouting at wandering students. A tug on his arm from Tadashi, and he was walking into the hospital, his family all around him. In the waiting room, Hibiki saw many of his brother’s classmates and his parent’s colleagues. He watched as Hiroki was being cradled by Tooru and Mina. How Hatsuko and Sachiko practically jumped Izuku, before doing the same to Shouto. How Sakurako was met by Tamaki, who hugged his daughter like the world was ending. Some didn’t seem to even find family members, like Kazuya, who was immediately led away by a nurse. It was crazy, like a zoo in the waiting room. And his vision tunneled when he saw his Mom. Hibiki practically rammed into her, tears falling down his cheeks. She grunted, but returned his tight embrace. He sobbed into her jacket as she rubbed his back, soothing him. “Hey, little man, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m okay.” “I love you so much, Mom.” He sniffled, squeezing her tighter for just a moment before releasing her, but not her hand. He needed the contact right now. “I love you too, Hibiki.” “Where’s Mama?” He remembered suddenly. “And Toshi? Mom? Where are they?” His Mom quickly grabbed his shoulders, halting his panicked word vomit. “They’re alive, buddy. Toshiro broke and arm and leg, and your Mama got a little scratched up. We can go see both of them right now, if you’d like?” Mother and son walked hand in hand down the white halls of the hospital, and Hibiki tried to tune out the pained wails of devastated families around him. Soon enough, they turned into a room, and the Yaoyorozu-Jirou family was reunited once more. Toshiro was sitting in a wheelchair, right arm and leg in thick, white casts, face covered in soot, a complex expression on his face. Their Mama was lying in the bed, cloak torn and hanging over a nearby chair. Her hair was down, and she was also covered in dirt and dust. And, the cherry on top, her stomach was covered in thick white bandages. “Hibiki!” She sighed in relief, reaching out for her youngest son. He darted forward, carefully falling into her embrace, watching for her wounds. “My sweet boy, I’m sorry if we worried you. I love you so much.” “I love you too, Mama.” He assured, once again feeling tears fall down his cheeks. “I love you guys so much.” He heard a squeak, and suddenly Hibiki was sitting on his brother’s lap, his uninjured arm holding him close. “Come here, ‘Biki, show your brother some love.” He threw his arms around him, just now noticing his costume was missing the large, thick jacket he used as protection. “Where’s your jacket, Toshi?” His smile faded, his grip tightening. “Ryoko.” This was worrying. Was she okay? She was practically Hibiki’s older sister with the amount of time she spent at their place, and it wouldn’t be right for her to be gone.” “Do you want to see her again, Toshi?” A gruff voice came from the door, and Hibiki turned to see his Uncle Katsuki, arms stained black, his costume torn up, his eyebrows completely singed off. Both his hands were heavily bandaged, and the tips of his hair looked burnt. Hibiki felt Toshiro nod, and held on as their Mom wheeled the two down the hall. Ryoko’s room was a place with a depressing aura. Eijirou was passed out on a small couch, body covered in scratches. Takeo was knocked out in his arms, leaving Tadashi as the only conscious one in the room. He was pulled right up to the bed, where Ryoko lay, connected to a slew of machines. Her hair was down, looking more like black than ashy blonde. Her lips were red and chapped, face looking a little raw. Her head was all wrapped up, and her left wrist was in a cast. She was wearing Toshi’s jacket, and her costume’s accessories were scattered over the furniture. Tadashi looked up as they entered, and Hibiki has never seen him look so lost. Katsuki left them to go embrace his son, literally pulling him out of his chair to get both of them comfortable. Hibiki got off of Toshiro, and watched as his brother wheeled right up next to father and son, placing his left hand on his best friend’s leg. There was some shouting from the hall, before a distraught Uraraka Machiko burst into the room, eyes wild until they landed on her girlfriend. “No.” She muttered, stumbling towards the bed. She looked like she had been crying already, but fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She stopped at the bedside, collapsing in the chair opposite the girl’s family. “What, what happened?” Toshiro shook a little, not looking up to meet his friend’s eyes. “We, me, her, Tarou and Ayumu, were fighting this one guy, and, the big explosion went off, and, it was really dark for a minute, and when I opened my eyes, she was on the ground, and they said she hit her head pretty hard, and I’m so sorry.” He broke down, his head falling forward as he sobbed. Tadashi leaned over, resting one of his warm hands against his back. “You did all you could, kid.” A new voice came. Tsuyu walked over to her oldest, her younger daughter asleep on her back. “No one saw that coming. We’re just lucky no one died today.” She was in hospital scrubs, her face and hands clean. Under her nails was a different story. They were dark red, still stained with blood. She let Taura off her back, laying the girl over the last couch before placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “She’ll wake up soon, too.” Tadashi muttered, watching the machines keeping his sister stable. “There’s only a small chance of amnesia, too. Some could say you’re worse for wear.” Toshi didn’t lift his head, but his sobs died off. Hibiki felt bad for his brother. He probably saw his best friend lying on the ground, believing she  was dead. It was probably going to bother him forever. Hibiki remembered his Mama telling them traumatic memories tended to be the strongest. “Is Ocha in surgery now?” Katsuki asked, looking at Tsuyu. She nodded, squeezing her daughter’s shoulders. “Yes, ribbit. They wheeled her in after the girls got a chance to see her.” Machiko was still crying, and she sniffled as she squeezed her eyes shut. “She was so pale.” She spoke, barely audible. “And she’ll live?” Katsuki inquired, shifting his son in his arms. “Yes, but there’s a 60% chance of paralysis.” Hibiki couldn’t help but feel awful for Machiko. She was probably having the worst day of her life. Her girlfriend is comatose, with a chance of waking up with no memory of her, and her mother might lose the use of her legs. Over the next few hours, tons of people came in to see Ryoko. Hadou Ayumu and Toogata Tarou, on their way back from seeing Tarou’s brother Yuudai. Iida Daichi, accompanied Kimiko, Hayate, Masuya and Misaki, their father, Tenya, leaving with a sad look. Even Shouto, who placed a singular daisy on the bedside table before leaving. It was quiet for a bit, safe for the faint noises of the machines hooked up to Ryoko. Hibiki almost thought everyone dozed off, but he knew better. The only way anyone was sleeping was going to be brought on by pure exhaustion. Soon, his Mom returned, taking him and Toshiro back to their Mama’s room for the night.

-

A week later, and things are only just looking up. Repairs to the city have started, led mainly by the Yaoyorozu’s company and funds, with large donations from many foreign aid programs. Many international support companies came to help build the city back up again, while heroes from other countries came to watch over the population while those involved in the fight healed. Ryoko had woken up two days after the attack, memories just a little fuzzy at first. She was going to be released tomorrow, alongside Ochako, who’s surgery had been a success, and was participating in physical therapy until further notice. Since most housing was destroyed, UA was closed for the month to house victims while temporary shelters and new homes were being built. Casualties were low, with only seven civilian deaths, and one of Deku’s sidekicks dying of his injuries just yesterday. With nothing better to do, Grandpa-Yorozu had offered to house every member of their UA family until the city got back on it’s feet, even going as far as to offer financial help to the Monomas and Awases, as their buildings were among those destroyed. While things were never going to be the same for the group, it was nice to have them all so close. Having everyone under the same roof was comforting, even if Hibiki was sharing Toshiro’s room with all the other children. The bed had been moved to Hibiki’s room, and mats, bedrolls, and sleeping bags were spread across the floor. Hibiki’s room was housing those like Ochako, who had received more severe injuries. Of the children, only Toogata Yuudai was in that room, as he’d been impaled through the abdomen by a stray beam. In Toshiro’s room, Hibiki could watch everyone. Kendou Moriko, who was sandwiched between her brother, Yuuto, and sister, Reina, both arms in casts. Even Tetsutetsu Isamu, who had Takeo and Monoma Yoshirou on his chest, Awase Kazuharu curled into his side. Machiko had barely left Ryoko's side since she woke up, even during sleep. Tadashi rolled over, elbowing Hibiki in the face. It was rather cramped having this many kids in one room, but it made it feel safer. Even if only six of them (excluding Yuudai) had been in the fight, it was a huge relief to have them close now. This was the life of Pro Heroes, Hibiki realized, pushing Tadashi’s arms away before curling into his best friend further. There were always going to be more battles to fight, and more aftermath to struggle through. They were lucky, having everyone come out alive. Next time, they might not be so lucky. The next morning, Hibiki sits with his Mama as they watch their UA family feast on the large breakfast that had been cooked up that morning. “Mama?” Hibiki asked, turning to look at her. She hummed, turning to face him as well. “Yes, Munchkin?” “Is it worth it?” She seemed to ponder it for a minute, watching Hadou Hideaki and Monoma Takara squabble over a bowl of potatoes. “It is worth it. Because without people fighting the good fight, mornings like these don’t exist. We fight so others don’t have to, Hibiki. That’s what heroes do.” He nodded. Yes, that’s what heroes did. It didn’t matter, in the long run, that Hitoshi had been slashed up, or that Izuku was almost crushed by a building. What mattered was that the group had been stopped, and the citizens could eventually return to their regular lives.

[themalhambird]

Chapter Seventeen: Alliances

(Chapter Sixteen can be found here)

“My love?” Valentine shut the door behind her and padded softly over to her husband, wrapping her arms around him from behind as he stared out of the window. Though the evenings were lengthening with the coming of summer, it was gloomy outside: tracts of rain traced their way down the window panes, and Louis’  eyes followed them.

“I had a visitor today,” Louis said quietly. Valentine waited patiently, not bothering to point out that she already knew that. “He was an Englishman. The new Captain of Calais and- my niece’s brother in law. Jean Holland, Duke of Kent.”

“What did he want?“ Valentine asked softly. “Is  Isabelle to come home?” She hoped so. The poor girl must feel so alone, so frightened. If Louis were to be taken....she shivered.

“He wants a French army to invade England and restore Richard and Isabelle to the throne.” Louis said quietly. Valentine drew back. 

“You’re serious?” she asked. “But...if he is Captain of Calais, now, the usurper must trust him-”

“No, he says he gained Henry’s trust in the hopes of being given a position in France, that way he could come to me and-” Louis turned. “I think it’s worth serious consideration. He...” Louis hesitated. 

“What?” Valentine asked, frowning, “What is it?”

“Kent says he tried to break Richard out of prison about a year ago and...he didn’t know who Kent was. Didn’t recognise him, wouldn’t go with him. He was half naked and covered in grime, and filth, and blood, they’d whipped him and all Kent could do for his brother was kiss him on forehead and try and get him to drink something...”

“It reminded you of the King.” Valentine said softly. “You’re thinking that, because you feel unable to help your brother, if you help Kent do something for his, you’re making up for it somehow.”

Louis wrapped his arms around her. “Am I that obvious?”

“I just know you. Louis, you have to think sensibly. Right now, we have peace with England. How does France benefit from getting involved in a squabble between two English cousins?”

“If we win,” said Louis, “A French Princess will be England’s Queen Regent. Kent will support Isabelle’s claim to rule on her husband’s behalf if he is incapable.”

“Doesn’t Richard have other male cousins?”

“One, who’s sister is married in to the Northumberlands, Henry’s allies- they’ll be wiped out alongside him. And the other, the Duke of York...Kent says York is building up his power- money, men, you name it, he’s doing it, with perfectly legitimate excuses- he’s one of the men Henry trusts the most and everyone would think he’s perfectly loyal, except he used to look at Richard like Patrocles probably gazed at Achilles and- anyway, Kent is certain he would fight for Richard, if it comes to it- and would be perfectly content to leave the running of the Kingdom to Isabelle if he could spend his time taking care of Richard. They might have to be co-~Regents officially to please the English, but Valentine, if we do this-”

“It reverses the tables. France takes England, if only by default.”

Lizzie decided that she definitely liked Richard. Her new friend didn’t speak, but he seemed perfectly happy to listen to her chatter. He didn’t seem to get fed up of her tugging at his hair, though it took her quite a long time to put it how she wanted it before she started adding flowers. He plucked daisies from the grass around him and handed them back to her so she could add them in with the dandelions  and the buttercups she ran off to collect.

She caught glimpses of wounds on his wrist, and wondered if maybe he was a knight- a friend of her daddy’s who had to hide here because he had pledged his love to a princess who another, wicked knight had locked up in a tower, and vowed to set his dragon on anyone who tried to rescue her. When Lizzie’s daddy came back, they would probably go and fight the dragon together- Lady too, because she seemed to make Richard happy- at least, he kept stroking her fur, tangling his fingers in it then smoothing it out again. Lady thumped her tail happily, but didn’t nose around or jump up and lick him like she normally did with people who were friendly, which was good. Lizzie didn’t think Richard would like being startled very much. 

“Mistress Lizzie! Mistress Lizzie!.”

Oh no. Lizzie sighed, but called back “I’m here!” Mummy was always very strict that if someone she knew was calling for her, she must answer, especially if she was outside by herself. Mistress Ashley came panting round the corner. “Mistress Lizzie! It’s well past lunchtime, look you and-” she stopped short as she saw Richard. “Mistress Elizabeth Percy, you come here now, look you. Don't be bothering the gentleman.” she said it urgently. Lizzie frowned. 

“I’m not bothering him, I’m putting flowers in his hair. He said I could. Well- I asked, and he nodded, which counts as saying-”

“Mistress Lizzie,” her nurse hissed. Richard hunched his shoulders, and wound his fingers in to Lady’s coat. ”Mistress Lizzie, come away now.”

Lizzie considered. Then, quite deliberately, she folded her arms, planted her feet apart, and scowled just like her dad did when mummy wanted him to go somewhere or do something and he didn’t want to. “No,” she said, as deeply and Northern as she could pitch it. “I shan’t.” Still scowling, she picked another dandelion, and jabbed it in just above Richard’s ear.

Richard reached up and repositioned it, so it was nestled more securely.

Edward had never been more grateful for his steward. He had inherited Malvon from his father -and was pretty sure his father had inherited him from his father because the man had probably been around forever and had in fact been born an stiff, somewhat disapproving but always loyal even when he was politely rolling his eyes at you, elderly man. Anyway, the point was, Malvon didn’t have a problem keeping all the alcohol in the household under lock and key and giving the Duke cordial even when he asked for wine without thinking.

“Thanks,” he said, taking several long gulps. He meant for everything.

“Can I get you anything else, your grace?” Malvon enquired a little less stiffly than usual. He meant I know, your grace, and you’re welcome.

“A copy of Chaucer.” Edward said. “I’m pretty sure that’s what Isabelle’s message meant, but I need to double check just to rule her out. Then I’m going to need all my correspondence, with all the magnates- King included-there has to be something, somewhere...”

He was going to find out who had Richard, and why, and when he did, he was either going to kiss them, or kill them. Which...speaking of...”How mad do you think mother will be if I ask her to write and tell King Henry I accidently murdered  his jailer?” he asked.

Malvon gave a long suffering sigh.

“Poins!” Hal nearly jumped out of his skin as he walked in to his study to find his friend sitting on the desk and flicking through the book. “What the- how the hell did you get in here?”

“Eh,” Pons shrugged. “It was easy. I just told the guards I had an urgent message for the King from my father, Lord Scroop- you know he’s Captain of Calais Castle ? Anyway, they let me right on up and I asked some random servant for directions to your room- voila! Now, where’s Izzy, how’s Izzy, and do we need to rescue her?”

“No,” said Kate patiently, “like this.” she corrected Isabelle’s grip on the sword, and Isabelle sighed with frustration. 

“My hands keep moving!” she said. “I don’t tell them too but still they move!” Kate chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there. Anyway, it's not like you need to be a master swordswoman- just so long as you know enough to give someone a nasty headache if you need to.” 

Isabelle set her jaw, and made sure her hands were in the right position.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 13

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 13 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

Mick has been driving himself spare trying to investigate the attempts to kill Len of the past few months, and it’s starting to show in the way he broods over the topic any time there’s a moment to do so.

"At least whoever’s behind it haven't made any new tries recently," Len offers on the drive home from STAR Labs, where they’d dropped Jax off for a day of what Team Flash called ‘orientation’ and Len called ‘Caitlin running baseline tests while Cisco shows off their cool villain archives and tries to think of a decent villain name while Barry is at work’. Jax finally managed to finish the extended summer hours he promised to put in at the autoshop this week, so he’s ready to start getting involved in the Rogues at last. Besides, the delay meant that Len’s leg is fully healed by now. "The last one was all the way back on Black Hole Day. That’s something, ain’t it?"

"People don't order assassins – "

"Amateur assassins at best – "

"People don't order any type of assassins and then stop, Len," Mick replies. "There's something we're missing."

"I'm sure," Len says. "But we’ve been over it half a dozen times. I don’t know what else you think we can do.”

“If we sent out the ghosts –”

“To do what?” Len asks practically. “The ghosts are useful, but only to a certain degree, and only when they’re given orders. You know most of them aren’t stable enough to focus on a serious search like this.”

“I know, I know. S’why I’ve only been using the good ones. But –”

“Mick. If there was something I could think of, some angle, I would. But I don’t know why they started, and I don’t know why they stopped, either – and I don’t know why they shifted over to wanting me alive, either.”

“Assuming they didn’t always,” Mick grumbles. “Goddamn amateurs. I went back and double-checked, by the way – they were using Santini guns and bullets, every single time. Even that usher in the theater; I checked the bullet casings and there’s no doubt.”

“So we're back to thinking it was a frame-up job?”

“Guess it has to be. Why someone intent on framing a Family would only hire amateurs, though, I don’t know.”

“Maybe the goal is to have us go up against the Santinis, cause them trouble?”

“Nah. Even the Santinis have been answering our questions since we explained the whole hired killer thing; the Dons seem to be taking it as a personal insult that someone’s been handing out their guns.”

“Of course that’s what they care about,” Len says, shaking his head. From his perspective, he’s worried about the issue enough; there's nothing good ruminating on it further would do. They just have to wait for the next attempt, and that's that. “Anyway, to change the subject, I was thinking, for the Rogues, might be worth it to have a good getaway man."

"Thought that's why we had Jax?"

"He's only one guy, and you don't let me drive anymore," Len reminds Mick.

Mick shrugs. "If the unquiet dead attack you one more time while you’re behind the wheel, you'll lose your license for epilepsy anyway. I'm just preempting it."

"My license is fake, Mick."

"Consider me your DMV, then. How many people in your family history do you want to bet died of falling off their horses, huh?"

"Horses – "

"Don't knock horses. Horses are scary."

“Mick. Why are we talking about horses?” Len asks, because honestly he has no idea when that happened. It’s not that he disagrees – there was an incident when he was younger, when Lisa got it in her head that she wanted to go horseback riding and they’d been scared off by the sheer size of the beasts – but seriously, how had the horses entered the conversation?

“Because you won’t tell me the real reason you want to recruit someone new.”

Len groans. "I want someone else on the Rogues that's closer to Jax's age. You happy now?"

"See, that's a good reason. Who were you thinking?"

"Webber. He could use the money, and he's a speed demon."

Mick hums thoughtfully, then turns on the wrong exit to go home, but the right exit to take them over to Keystone – and the drag racing tracks.

"I'll take that as a yes," Len says, satisfied.

They find Webber counting up his cash at the end of a race, no car in sight, and looking anxious, which isn't an uncommon sight these days.

"Hey, WWW," Len says, leaning out of the car window. "How's the mom?"

Webber looks up, with a wry smile. "Still sick," he says. "But better. Not so much nausea anymore. Tell me you've got a won't-go-wrong job that needs a driver."

"Better," Len says. "How do you feel about trying to out-race a speedster through skill alone?"

Webber's eyes all but glow with excitement. "I can't afford to get arrested for it," he warns, because he sometimes remembers to be level-headed. "And I need money, not just speed."

"Cut of our profits or a flat fee each time, whatever's bigger," Len says. "You wear a mask, and the Flash has promised to make sure you don't get tossed in the clink if you obey a certain set of rules – no killing people, best efforts to hurt anyone, pick the targets carefully, that sort of thing. I run the show and you listen to me."

"The Flash promises? Man, I don't know what con you're running, but I want in."

"Adrenaline hog," Len says fondly. It takes one to know one. "Hop in, we'll give you a lift since you lost your keys."

"That obvious, huh? Jonesy’s crew won my ride, but I'm gonna buy it back."

"Wait till tomorrow," Mick advises. "He'll think you're not as desperate and drop the price a bit to make sure you buy it."

Webber climbs into the car. "True," he says. "But without you guys, I wouldn't have a way home otherwise, so I was desperate. Anyway, doesn’t matter now. Tell me about your newest scam."

"It's not a scam," Len objects. "It's – media managing, s'all. The real game goes on."

Webber arches his eyebrows.

"The way it works is this – "

It turns out that Jax has finished Team Flash orientation and is waiting for them back at what they’re currently using as the Rogues safehouse, which makes everything easier.

"Jax, meet Webber," Len says. "You'll be our go-to car guys, so bond. Learn each other's tricks. I want a well-oiled machine out of the two of you. Proper pumping engine."

"He knows literally nothing about cars," Webber tells Jax.

"No kidding," Jax says with a snort. "He doesn't even drive."

"I drive!" Len protests.

"Barely," both young men chorus, then smile at each other.

Len rolls his eyes. "I'm conceding the point only to encourage team morale."

"Wait, that works?" Mick asks. "I've got some other points for you to concede on – it'd certainly raise my morale – "

"No."

"My name's Jefferson Jackson," Jax tells Webber, ignoring Mick and Len. "Everyone calls me Jax."

"I think I remember you," Webber says. "Football QB for Bradley High, right? You kicked the Bobcats' ass up and down the field."

"You were a Bobcat?"

"Not on the team, but the school, yeah. I'll just apologize in advance."

"Nah, man, I'll apologize to you. That's the rowdiest school in the whole district – unless you count Holy Angels, and – "

"— no one ever counts Holy Angels," they conclude in unison with identical smirks.

Len shares bewildered glances with Mick. High school drama is something Len will never get. Real sports, even college ball, sure, but high school?

Webber sticks out a hand. "Wally West," he says. Jax shakes his hand, smiling.

"Webber, your real name is Wall-E?" Len says dubiously. "Like the robot movie?"

"No, you dweeb of a supervillain," Webber says, rolling his eyes. "As in, short for Wallace."

"Why do they call you Webber?" Jax asks.

"It's one of my racing handles in Keystone," Webber says, shaking his head. "See, my full name's actually Wallace Wickham West..."

"It is?" Len says, not without some real horror. "And here I thought Snart was bad."

"Snart is bad," Mick says, pulling out a beer from the fridge.

"I get it," Jax says, laughing. "World Wide Web, huh? WWW?"

"And from that, Webber," Webber says. "Either that or Wally’s fine. What brings you to these crazy bastards?"

"College tuition. You?"

"Mom's medical bills. I'm still hoping to scholarship my way into college."

"Tough road, man. Sorry about your mom. It bad?"

"Yeah, cancer."

"Shit. Let me tell my mom, she'll probably want to drop off a casserole. Or ten."

Webber cracks another grin. "Yeah, my mom used to do that, I know exactly what you mean. Yeah. That'd be good. A bunch of mom's friends ditched when she started getting really sick, and my dad’s not in the picture. She could use some company."

"I'll tell my mom tonight," Jax promises.

"And when you're done with that," Len says, "maybe you could go try out the cars out back and see if you think they need to be tuned up for the heist we're pulling on Friday."

"Friday? Short notice."

"Need to get the Rogues plan into action," Len says firmly. “No reason for delay.”

"Also, he's invited the Flash and Co. over for a potluck on Saturday to celebrate our new supervillain-superhero alliance and just realized how much money feeding a speedster's gonna cost," Mick says dryly. "Well. I realized, since I'm gonna be doing the feeding."

"I can't wait to actually meet the Flash," Jax says, bouncing a little, Webber nodding along.

"He's just a nerd in a red costume," Len warns them, but that doesn't seem to dim their enthusiasm one bit.

Especially not after he promises that after a few months of successful heists they’d be able to pick their own villain themes, with Cisco’s assistance.

The heist goes well enough – they get lots of publicity right next to the awful tenements near old McFeely Park, Flash lets them get away with about half the cash they'd lifted – the physical form of a wire transfer, Monsanto money being shipped in from the local farmers, and the farmers' obligations being done once they paid meant the loss was all on the corporation – and the potluck goes well, too.

Jax brings casseroles for everyone. "I have another three out back," he says to Webber, who'd brought soda. "You don’t want to know. Even my Great Aunt Josephine got in on the action when she heard the words 'speedster metabolism'. Your mom's gonna be descended on by an army, just warning you."

"She could use an army," Webber says, eyes suspiciously wet. "Thanks."

Barry brought pizza. Twenty-seven boxes of pizza.

"You're a crazy person," Webber tells him, opening one of the boxes which has the weirdest pizza toppings Len's ever seen. "But you've got great taste."

"You're all crazy," Len says. "Barry, this here's Webber – or Wally, whatever – and he's gonna be a junior Rogue, too."

"Nice to meet you," Barry says, shaking Webber's hand. "This is Caitlin Snow, her husband Ronnie Raymond, Cisco Ramon, Iris West, and my ghost-mom, Nora Allen."

"Ghost-mom?" Webber asks.

"Did Len not tell you about the ghost thing?" Iris asks. "It's a hell of a story."

"No, I just know the basics – hey, wait, you said your last name is West?"

"Yeah, Iris West."

"Cool," Webber says. "I'm Wally West."

"Nice! Last name bros!"

"Maybe we're related," Webber says. "Cousins or something. That'd be awesome – god, this is gonna be so awkward for first time meeting conversation, but my mom's sick – cancer – she needs a bone marrow transplant and I'm not compatible, so we’ve been asking people – "

"I'd be happy to get tested," Iris says immediately. "Absolutely. My mom died when I was a kid, when I was too young to really remember, so – yeah. Happy to help."

"You're awesome," Webber says happily. "I'll ask her about maybe-cousins when I next see her."

"My dad's working tonight – he's a cop and he doesn't want to officially come to hang out with criminals – but I'll ask him, too. That would be so cool; I've always wanted a little cousin!"

“Cop, huh? He come down hard on drag racing?”

“Nah,” Iris says, laughing. “He doesn’t really care; says it’s better than drugs. My fiancé – also a cop, also not attending – says it’s a bad habit, but that he’ll only arrest you if you’re racing somewhere there could be collateral casualties.”

“No problem, then. That’s not my scene…”

"Food's almost ready," Mick calls from the kitchen. "Ghosts are laying it out as we speak."

"Kind of rude not to invite them to eat if they're serving, isn't it?" Cisco asks Len.

"I'm not made of life energy," Len snipes back, then pauses. "Well, technically – "

Cisco snickers. "Wish I'd known about the ghost stuff when I named you."

"The 'Captain' bit kinda covers the 'having a group to order about' stuff. Also, how would you fit it in with the cold theme? Don’t say Chillbones."

"Don’t be so down on it, it’s a good name! Maybe – Ghost Cold?"

"Sounds like a disease."

"Yeah, I’m not feeling it. Let me think about it a bit more."

"Don't waste your brainpower. Let's discuss what we’ll be naming our Little League Rogue Squad..."

"The food looks fantastic," Caitlin tells Mick.

"Thanks," he replies. "Say, you're the doc, right?"

"Uh, yes."

"Great. I'd like to talk to you about getting some updated scans of Len's brain -"

"He's had another attack?"

"We fought it off before it got severe, but the unquiet dead are causing more problems – there's been more and more of them coming to Central as Len's power increases and since friendlies are more likely to pass on eventually, the proportion’s getting worse."

"Yes, I see the problem. When was the last time he got scanned..?"

"So you're Firestorm, huh?" Jax asks Ronnie. "That's pretty neat. You and – what's his name, the grey-haired professor?"

"We're actually hoping to find another Firestorm," Ronnie tells him. "Right now, my partner, Martin Stein – he couldn't be here tonight; his wife was attending a dinner and he went with her – he and I are bound together."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, there's a mild psychic component, but the principal thing is that we need to merge on a semi-regular basis or else, boom. But if we had a third Firestorm – not even a third one in the actual merge, just someone else capable of doing it – we think that could lighten the load. Basically, we think that might mean we could stabilize it further meaning that we wouldn't have to merge all the time – "

"I think I get it," Jax says. "Triads are more stable than pair-bonds."

"Exactly! You're into chemistry?"

"Hoping to be a mechanical engineer, actually."

"That was my major! What program were you thinking? CCU?"

"Nearest and cheapest."

"The engineering program's not shabby at all, actually; it cleans up pretty good nation-wide. Were you thinking of any specializations? Professor Babasijibomi is great – "

“I haven’t even started thinking about that, but that’s good to know…”

Len looks around the room, ghosts floating in with grins as they watch the bickering, living people chattering and eating, Cisco talking to Lisa over Skype –

All in all, things are going pretty well.

“Never ask me for another favor ever again,” Len tells Barry a month or so later. "Ever."

“You think I’m happy about this?” Barry asks, making a face. “They’re my parents. Besides, you have no place to talk, you also regularly sleep with a dead guy!”

“I’ve never given anyone life so they can have ‘released from prison’ sex,” Len says. “I feel dirty now.”

“You’re a thief.”

“This is worse.”

“…yeah,” Barry concedes, shaking his head. “So, what do you think? About Zoom and the breaches?”

“I think you’re a lot more tolerable now that you’ve stopped blaming yourself for it,” Len replies, willing to take any conversation shift away from what he just empowered Nora to do. Also, he’s right.

Barry rolls his eyes. “I still think it’s kind of my fault, since I did cause the singularity by powering up the Accelerator before deciding against going into the past, but I have accepted – how did you call it – my role as a pawn in Wells’ scheme, and now I’m working on internalizing the idea. That wasn’t what I meant, though. Jay says –”

“I don’t like him.”

“Thank you! I don’t either but everyone’s just saying that I’m being too suspicious because of the whole thing with Wells.”

“You’re being reasonable,” Len says. “Listen, at your age, a lot of people look for a mentor, and there’s a lot of people willing to take advantage of that – especially if they have access to your powers as a result.”

“Jay doesn’t need it, though,” Barry says reluctantly. “He’s the Flash on his own world.”

“So he’s a speedster?”

“…no, he lost his powers when Zoom threw him through the breach.”

Len arches his eyebrows. “A speedster who lost his speedster powers, who now wants to mentor you? Sounds a bit familiar, don’t it?”

Barry makes a face. “What do I do, though? There’s definitely an Earth-2, and this Zoom guy is definitely sending metas through to our world with orders to kill me.”

“I’ll have Mick send some of my better ghosts with you as guards,” Len decides. “Pick one to be your go-to ghost, whichever one you like best, and they can monitor the others, maybe help you keep track of this Jay guy, see what he gets up to on his own, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t know about the ghost thing yet, so that’s an advantage we have.”

Barry nods. “Thanks,” he says. “That’ll help a lot. And can’t I just use Mom?”

“If your mom keeps getting everything she’s ever wanted, she’s going to have no regrets in no time, at which point she passes on,” Len reminds Barry. “And that’s a good thing. You want her to pass on.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Barry sighs. “I’ll pick someone, then, and have Mom train them up; that’ll give us a bit more time with her.”

“She worries about you,” Len says. “But passing on is really the best thing for ghosts. They all seem to really like it, even the unquiet ones.”

“So we’ll keep an eye on Jay,” Barry says. “That makes me feel better already, actually. Trust but verify.”

“I’m also going to assign the Junior Squad to cover you with these new metas,” Len decides. “A few minor confrontations the next few weeks – they can plan them out themselves with you over texts – give you some eyes on the outside.”

Barry nods. “What about you? Any word on the Santini thing?”

“Not a peep, but then again, no new murder attempts, either. I’m taking it as a win.”

“Mick isn’t,” Barry says knowingly.

Len sighs. “Yeah, well, can’t have everything. You go figure out this Zoom business. Say, have you considered checking this Garrick’s story?”

“Checking it? What do you mean?”

“Set Cisco and Stein on figuring out a way to get you to Earth-2 and back and check the guy’s story. You know, credentials, birth certificate, shit like that. And while you’re there, well, maybe you can find Zoom before he finds you.”

“They’re already working on stabilizing the breaches to get Jay home,” Barry says, brightening. “And if I take the fight to Zoom –”

“Less collateral damage here,” Len says, nodding. “Let me know if you need help; we can team up to fight off the outsider.” He taps his cold gun. “I specialize in speedsters, after all.”

“Thanks,” Barry says sincerely, hopping up. “I’ll let you know.”

With a crackle of lightning and a gust of wind, he’s gone.

Shaking his head in amusement, Len texts the new instructions to Jax and Wally – they’ve done a handful of heists with him now, they should be ready to strike out on their own, especially with Barry’s willing assistance – and contemplates, for the first time in quite a while, a more or less entirely free weekend.

More or less.

“Hey, boss,” Mick says, coming through the door. “We still hitting the cashier’s cage at the racetrack tomorrow?”

“Indeed we are,” Len says. “Let’s go pick up Lisa at the train station, treat her to dinner. Tomorrow’s going to be back to the basics, family only.”

“Good,” Mick says. “We could use something nice and simple.”

Maybe they were just tempting fate, saying something like that, because the cashier’s cage went sweet and easy, no problem, but a parked van’s doors snapping open and people in dark masks swinging batons and smashing them down on their heads is an entirely unexpected twist.

Len sees Lisa go down, hears Mick yelling, and lunges forward, only to hear a crackle of electricity – similar, yet subtly different from the Flash’s – and then everything goes dark.

Len hates tasers.

He wakes up –

He’s not sure where he is. The trunk of a car, judging by the way he’s been stuffed inside and the bumping and shaking as they drive. A car, not the van from earlier.

It’s strangely quiet.

All of his joints hurt, electricity having done them no good, and his head hurts, too. His head especially, actually; the back of the skull feels like he got bashed instead of shocked.

He’s not bound, which is perhaps the most surprising part.

It’s quiet.

Len’s not sure why he keeps thinking that. The road keeps rattling, there’s a ringing in his ears…

It’s still too quiet.

The car shudders to a halt.

There’s a slammed door.

Footsteps.

Len tenses, waiting to see what would greet him when the trunk opened – to make the split-second decision whether to leap out aggressively or to hang back, make a few snide remarks, and find out what whoever-it-is knows and wants before attacking.

The trunk is popped open.

And then –

All of Len’s muscles seize up at once, the memory of old terrors hitting him straight in the gut.

“Hello, son,” Lewis says.

[ellawritesficssometimes]

Super Cold - RusAme Super Hero One-shot

Summary: Alfred ‘Hitman Jones’ is the lead Super in Heta city. That is, until Russian immigrant Iron Fist moves to town. What will happen when the two join forces to fight against the infamous villain, Red Devil? 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12629631/1/Super-Cold

A/N: Finally! My first RusAme centric fic! Enjoy :D

How’s everyone doing tonight? The name’s Hitman Jones, hero extraordinaire and wonder boy of Heta city. For those of you who don’t know, I’m the lead Super in town. I have super strength and speed, so criminals usually don’t bother to mess with me, otherwise they…well, get hit. There’s also the fact that my muscles are literally impenetrable, as bullets bounce right off them.

As you can see, I have quite the infamous reputation.

I used to be part of a duo before my twin brother, who now goes under the alias Invincible Violet, moved up North to start over his heroing career. When we were partners, he often got outshone by me, so moving away was his only chance at being noticed for once. Lest we forget that he had invisibility powers, along with super speed like myself.

Honestly, I couldn’t blame him for leaving. In fact, I was happy to hear that he was making grounds in Canada, in Toronto to be more specific.

Anyways, for two years, I’ve been the Super to talk about. All the news outlets focused on me, and I had a pretty sweet deal going on with the police because of my popularity. I got paid to patrol the city, although, any other good deeds were unpaid overtime, like they should be.

Initially, I didn’t start my heroing career to make money. Now, it was just a helpful bonus that paid for most of my university expenses. A kid’s gotta live, am I right?

Too bad my way of living was threatened by a newbie in town.

Iron Fist, a recent Russian immigrant, was quickly gaining ranks and approval amongst the Heta police force. Despite never having an encounter with him myself, I’ve heard many things about him, all of which struck a petty tinge of jealousy in the pit of my stomach.

The rising hero had moved here to escape the mandatory military service clause in Russia. Supers there were forced to do at least five-years of service, unlike here in America, where enlisting was optional. Supers here often just co-operated with the police, like I did. We didn’t usually join the military, and mostly stuck to domestic peace-keeping.

Unfortunately, now that Iron Fist was rounding up bad guys left and right, I had to compete to stay in the spotlight. Rumour has it that his ice powers were like a hail storm – the air would freeze; you would feel a wisp of cold air by your backside, and then the last thing you saw was a fist before being knocked out cold, pun reluctantly intended.

Since all Supers were required to register with the government, they also knew each other on a first name basis. It was for reasons of national security that no secrets were kept. Iron Fist was on record as an Ivan, but that’s all I knew. If Supers wanted to get involved in each other’s personal lives and form alliances, then that was up to them.

I hardly ever went to city council meetings, so I rarely got to see the other Supers in their civilian forms. Not that I wanted to. I could honestly care less. Those meetings were lame, I knew what I was doing, and I didn’t need to listen to some fat old man harp in my ear about lowering damage costs.

I saved the day, that’s all the mattered.

Also, ew. I so wasn’t about to meet this Ivan dude. I wanted him to remain faceless; it was much easier to demonize him that way. I’m telling ya, I may be a hero, but I’ve put too much work into my image to worry about the media questioning my reliability as the best Super the police has to offer. Call me selfish all you want…

Damn you, Iron Fist… Ivan. Tch! What a phony kind of name.

Heta city didn’t need two super powers! One was more than enough.

Chief Kirkland didn’t seem to think so.

He was currently yelling his bitter head off into my earpiece. The downtown branch of the Vargas bank was robbed, again. This was the third time this month.

“ –Are you daft? Stop being a stubborn Neanderthal and know your place. You are to stay put until further orders are given!–” Arthur barked, sounding like a grumpy old-lady that all children avoided on the street for fear of being smacked in the head with a dusty umbrella.

Arthur was the Chief of police. Unbeknownst to the public, he was also secretly a Super. He was a psychic who could pinpoint the locations of criminals and their whereabouts. Unfortunately, his powers were useless in a crowd, as he often got distracted and couldn’t tune out background noise.

It was for this reason that Arthur never became an active Super.

“–What my hot-headed, stubborn as a mule partner meant to say is don’t be stupid–” Francis, Arthur’s Lieutenant, corrected. “–We do not know which villain we are dealing with this time. You may need back-up, Alfred. Strong as you may be, you are still practically a child, and as your superiors, it is imperative that we ensure your safety. You’re also a civilian. It’s our job to protect everyone, including you believe it or not.–”

Francis was also a Super, but his powers were more useful in interrogation. He had the ability to tell when a person was lying. He was also very apt at perceiving and planting false emotions in people to extract the truth from them.

“–Shut it, you cheeky amphibian. We are not partners! I’m your boss and you will treat me as such!–”

“–That’s not how you acted around me last night…–”

I cleared my throat. “Thanks for the advice, Dads. I’m 19, so how about you start loosening up that choke-hold you have on me?” I muttered sarcastically. “Besides, I’m already on the culprits’ tail. A black van just stopped in an alleyway on third street. I’m going in.”

“–There will be no such going in!–” Arthur snapped. “–Alfred Foster Jones, so help me God, if you jump off that roof, I’ll shove my gun so far up your arse, you’ll regret living in a country with such poor gun control!–”

“–Alfred,” Francis whined, “just listen to him. I’m going to have to watch Arthur fret like a suburban house-wife if you ignore his orders again–”

“Sorry, dude,” I said, glancing back to spot the crowd of police cars lined up in front of the bank. It was pitch-black out, save for the street-lamps and many flashing red lights bouncing against the glass windows of the surrounding buildings.

I had climbed onto a rooftop nearby to get a bird’s eye view of the city. From what I could see, the culprits weren’t moving, and didn’t look like they planned to anytime soon. They were likely counting their profits.

I sighed. This was such a bore. It would only take me forty seconds or so to reach the criminals, but Arthur was acting as if going in solo was a death wish. I guess it didn’t help that he had taken full responsibility for me. The amount of paperwork he had to fill out because of the property damage I regularly caused was pretty hilarious.

“Come on, step out of the van. Show your faces,” I whispered to myself. If possible, I also wanted to know who I was dealing with. The other two break-ins at the bank were minor villains. Today would likely be a toughie if we’re going by pure odds here.

I’ve always loved a good challenge.

I readjusted the mask on my face. Normal Alfred Jones wore glasses, and was everyone’s favourite geek. Meanwhile, Hitman Jones wore a partial muse of comedy mask that covered the right side of his face; a smiling face for an always successful hero.

“–Alfred, this is your last warning, young man! Stay put, damn you! I knew I should have called back-up sooner–” Arthur deadpanned.

“What?!” I spluttered.

“–That’s right,” Arthur said, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I just called in Iron Fist. At least he’s reliable when it comes to preventing this city from falling into shambles on a daily basis–” he lectured.

SLAM!

Angered, I jumped off the building I was standing on, causing cracks to form in the asphalt below my feet. No one questioned my abilities as a Super.

No one.

“–Oh look, you provoked him,” Francis deadpanned. “I’m not even psychic and I saw that one coming. You both have the temperaments of toddlers, mon dieu. Everyone would be better off if you two weren’t working together. But does anyone ever listen to me? Non! It’s because I’m French, isn’t it? We’re not all drunks, you know!–”

I didn’t aim a single glance at the police, ignoring them as Arthur bellowed into his microphone. He was trying to embarrass me, but it wasn’t working. I had been belittled enough for one night, thank you very much.

“JONES GET BACK HERE, YOU TIT!”

“Artie, with all due respect, fuck off,” I growled into my earpiece. “Let me do my job, will ya? I’ve got this.”

Arthur returned to using his earpiece. “–The only thing you ‘got’ is an ego in need of being kicked down a few notches. I’ve just about had it up to here with your impulsiveness!–”

“What’s that? Can’t hear ya. I’m too busy saving your ass. Next time, maybe you guys should invest in a stronger security system.”

“–You are that security system!–”

“Nuh-uh! I’m a responder just like you!”

“–Jones, the next time I see you, you’re dead, you hear me?–”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time, father buzzkill.”      

The earpiece’s audio broke out for several seconds. Arthur must have been screeching too loudly for the device to pick up on the sound. Whatever, I needed to concentrate anyway. Since Arthur failed to pin-point the criminals’ location, I was doing his job for him.

I sprinted around several street corners, making my way to the center-most part of the city. It was a place most people avoided due to the many operating drug and prostitution rings.

Thankfully, the people in the van didn’t notice me duck behind a nearby dumpster. I caught my breath, fixing my suspenders. Again, I had Arthur to thank for my formal wear.

Supers were discouraged from wearing bright colors, especially if they were on day patrol. If they could be spotted out in the open, then that put the civilians around them in jeopardy. We were instructed to dress ourselves so that we could better fit in with the public and attract less fights with villains, even if most of them happened at night, where criminal activity was at its height.

The outfit I had always worn consisted of a white blouse, black suspenders and leggings made of a spandex-like material, leather gloves, and the mask I’ve already mentioned before. I looked more like a murderer than an actual hero.

Hmmph! The media sure liked to poke fun at how lanky I was in paradox with my super strength. Again, I was 19! I wasn’t done developing just yet!

Carefully, I poked my head into view. “Come on,” I grit my teeth. “Show yourselves.”

“–Have you gotten a visual on who they are yet?” Francis asked. “I’m taking over for now. Arthur is too busy frothing at the mouth to form a proper sentence.–”

“No,” I grunted. “The van is just sitting there. I have no idea what they’re doing.”

The cameras had shown two people in black leaving the bank, but only one hopping into the get-away van. Perhaps this was their meet up place?

“–Good!” Arthur shouted in the background. “Hold your ground, Iron Fist should be there in a few minutes.–”

Arthur really ought to learn my triggers. I always did the opposite of what I was told.

Either way, it didn’t matter. A figure had already stepped out of the van. The first thing I noticed was that she was a woman. She had long brown hair that fell to her waist, bangs pinned to the side with a pink flower clip. She was also wearing all black, and had a cellphone sticking out of her pocket.

Before she could make her way to the trunk, I sped forward, casually resting my arm against the back of the vehicle.

“How’s it going, darling?” I mused, flashing my award-winning smile. “Got big plans tonight? A big spender, are ya? Go big or go home, huh? I have a suggestion. How about we skip all that and I take you straight to prison?”

Arthur and Francis’s fragmented yelling continued to crackle in my ear.

The woman gave a surprised yelp when she spotted me standing there, grinning under the dim lighting of the street. Her green eyes widened with fear before hardening with determination.

“Listen here, Golden boy,” she spat. “Not everything is black and white. I’m here doing a job, and if you get in the way, I won’t have any choice but to dispose of you. Bullets may not harm you, but they do stun from what I’ve heard. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” she wavered, almost looking regretful as she pulled out a gun from her cargo pants.

I simpered. I never liked seeing a lady in distress. “Sweetheart, life may get tough, but that doesn’t justify robbing a bank, no circumstances ever do. If you surrender now, I’d be happy to put in a good word for you. You don’t look like the kind of person who would kill someone in cold-blood. Work with me here, where’s your partner? This can all be over soon if you just co-operate; you may not even have to serve jailtime...”

I reached out to touch her shoulder, only to duck when the woman mercilessly shot at my head.

PING!

The bullet bounced off a nearby lamppost. On instinct, I stuck out my arm, blocking the bullet from rebounding straight into the woman’s chest. “Now that wasn’t very nice,” I smirked. “This is your last chance. I don’t like laying my hands on a woman, but if justice calls for it, I won’t hesitate; not again, doll.”

Even though I had just saved her life, the woman took several steps back, refusing to lower her gun. “S-stay away from me!” she shrieked. “I don’t need your pity. I’m doing this b-because I want to! I need this money! It’s the only way I-!”

The woman faltered when a laugh akin to the sound of scraping metal echoed across the street, sending chills up and down my spine.

Red Devil, otherwise known as Gilbert Beilschmidt, stood on a rooftop across the street, red eyes gleaming and upside down cross-themed cape billowing in the wind.

“Tsk! Tsk! Mrs. Héderváry! And here I thought you would honour your word by not getting caught. I should have known not to rely on a non-Super like you. I’m afraid I’m just too trusting. It’s a flaw of mine, but it does provide for much entertainment when your Plan A is already doomed from the beginning.”

I tensed, heeding Arthur’s warning to tread carefully for once. Red Devil was an ex-Super gone bad due to his poor treatment by the media. They had made fun of his strange looks, and had ended up paying for it dearly when their most well-known news anchor was hung in cold-blood, right in front of their headquarters.

“Jones, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Red Devil remarked dismissively, jumping down onto the street with a thundering thud.

The villain had numerous powers, most of which were mental. He played mind games, torturing his victims with horrid thoughts and threats until they finally gave in to his whims. He could also inflict real torture onto his victims, sending ghost pain flaring all throughout their nervous system – this was usually how Gilbert used to catch bad guys, back when he wasn’t one himself.

I caught on quickly, protectively placing an arm in front of Mrs. Héderváry. Gilbert was blackmailing her, I just knew it. “What do you want, Devil?” I asked, not referring to him on a first or last name basis since we were with company.

It was an unspoken rule that Supers were never supposed to out each other.

“Here’s a better question. What kind of dirt do you have on this girl? I know you, and what you’re capable of. You’re forcing her to do this, aren’t you?” I leered. “What kind of sick, twisted bastard gets a human to do his dirty work? Jeopardize yourself if you’re going to be breaking the law, you coward.”

“I can take care of myself,” Mrs. Héderváry growled to herself. “I don’t need some narcissistic Super to protect me.”

Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Héderváry crept backwards, discreetly opening the trunk of the get-away van.

I furrowed my brows, preparing a mental block in the case that Red Devil attempted to pry into my mind. Judging by the deadly expression on his face, I had pissed him off real good.

Arthur had taught me how to ward myself against mental attacks – it was similar to imagining a brick wall between you and the person trying to invade your mind. To be safe, I made said wall iron; the irony of the figurative mind block flew right over my head, as did most things.

“Don’t get self-righteous on me, Jones. You act like there’s no corruption where you stand. The police are all scum, and you’re just the bottom feeder who eats up their lies. You’re not protecting anyone but yourself! You’re pathetic! Nein! A mutt! That’s what you are! Get your head out of your ass and look up for once. This city is not what it seems! Don’t be a cog in the machine, do what you want for once.”

“I am!” I shouted back. “Protecting this city is what I’ve always wanted to do. Sure, things aren’t squeaky clean, I’ll give you that. But I’m not here to pander to political agendas. I care about keeping the civilians safe, unlike you! Do you remember your brother, Ludwig? He used to look up to you, idolize you. Now he couldn’t be more ashamed of what his brother has become. The other Supers don’t trust him.

“Why? Because he has to live with the guilt of knowing that his brother continues to reign terror in this city, leaving a trail of destruction and blood in his selfish wake. You have no excuse! Self-pity and revenge turned you into a monster. At least one person in your family didn’t turn out to be a rotten apple. Justice will be served to you, Devil, I just hope it never has to come down between you and your brother.”

Gilbert growled. “Tch. After all this time, you still haven’t learned to mind your own business. Fine. Continue to become a slave for all I care. Die for all I care. You chose the wrong side, and now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

“Oh,” I grinned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“This!” Ms. Héderváry shrieked, prodding me in the back with something sharp. Only when the currents coursed through my body did I realize I had just been tasered. It was the one thing that prevented me from using my super strength; it paralyzed my muscles.

I fell to the ground, convulsing.

“I’m sorry, dear. He has my husband,” Mrs. Héderváry sadly glanced down at me before shutting the trunk door.

“Did you count the money?” Red Devil asked her.

“Yes, it’s all there,” Mrs. Héderváry scowled. “I held up my bargain of the deal. It’s time for you to honour yours. Tell me where he is,” she said, evident desperation in her voice.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Red Devil waggled a gloved index finger. “That’s not the deal, and you know it. Now be a good girl and start up the car. I can hear sirens; the pigs are almost here.”

“And what about you?”

“I have one last thing to say to this punk.”

“Fine,” Mrs. Héderváry sighed.

A slam of the car door.

I let out a sharp gasp when Gilbert kicked me in the rib-cage. “You’re lucky I’m letting you off easy, kid. If we didn’t have a past together, you’d be dead already. It almost makes me regret having you as an apprentice. I trained you to win, not whatever this is.”

“You also taught me to be ruthless, stubborn, to never give up! To fight for what I believe in! I believed in you, Gilbert! How could you betray us all like that?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “You were always such a dramatic brat. The world never believed in me, so why should I believe in it? People change, time goes on, and new trends form. This is evolution, Jones. I’m merely trying to survive.”

“By killing other people?!” I countered.

Another kick to the rib-cage, and then jaw.

“Ja, by killing people. The next time we meet, I won’t be so lenient. Either you join me, or you die at my feet. History has a tendency to repeat itself, so I’m sure I’ll see you lying before me soon enough. Goodbye, Alfred. Perhaps God will grant you some mercy and knock some common sense into that stubborn head of yours.”

“Screw you! You’re despicable,” I hissed, spitting out blood.

Gilbert shrugged. “Despicably awesome.”

I struggled to sit up, watching with furious eyes as the van drove out of sight and skidded around the corner.

“–Jones, Jones!” Arthur shouted in my ear. As we spoke, he was tracking down my location through the earpiece. “What in the bloody hell just happened?!–”

“Red Devil happened,” I groaned. “That’s what.”

I winced, waiting for my muscles to recover from their brief paralysis. “Fuck!”

“–Language!–” Francis tutted.

“–Hang tight, we’ll be right there. Fist should be with you any minute now–” Arthur informed me.

“I told you I didn’t need him!” I snarled, slamming an angry fist against the pavement. The skin on my knuckles opened from the rough contact. Still enraged, I crushed the earpiece, discarding it with an irritated flick of the wrist.

“Need who?” A soft voice spoke into the night, coming from behind me.

I staggered to my feet, falling face first into something hard and very cold. It was a chest. A chest of another Super to be more specific.

“Ah!” I cried out in shock, stumbling backwards. “Where the heck did you come from?! Can’t you see I’m trying to-!” I paused, deadpanning when I realized that Iron Fist was standing before me. This was our first encounter, and he was already getting on my nerves.

Iron Fist was a hulking giant, easily over six feet in height. I was 5’11, and yet he made me feel small and inferior, what with his burly arms, strong shoulders, and chiseled jawline. Of course, you would never hear me admit this out loud, as my pride wouldn’t be able to take it.

He had ear-length blond hair that was almost silver, a white mask that covered his violet eyes and strong nose, and carried a chilly air about him. No, literally. The air had dropped a good ten degrees since his arrival.

I scoffed immediately as my eyes raked downwards. What a goon. He obviously didn’t get the memo about not being allowed to wear spandex or bright colours on the job. His outfit consisted of a tacky blue spandex suit, a navy cape, and silver and white trimming to match his mask. Strangest of all was the white scarf he had wrapped around his neck; I decided not to question it, since one, there were other things to worry about, and two, if I was perpetually freezing like him, I’d probably wear a scarf too.

“Ah,” Iron Fist, Ivan, held out a pale hand, waving it in front of my face. “Perhaps you took too hard of a fall. I can take over from here,” he offered.

“Hell no, dude!” I exploded. “This job is mine. Go home, beat it, scram!”

“I’m afraid that cannot happen,” Iron Fist sighed. His voice was very soft, almost childish but not quite. It was a shocking contrast if you considered his colossal size. “I do not break my promises. I’ve been asked to help. Whether you and I work together is up to you, but I will not back down from this fight. I’m more experienced than you are, I know what I’m doing. You can trust me, Alfred. If not, then I’ll be off. If you haven’t noticed, those criminals are getting away.”

Ha! As if him using my name would get me to trust him any more.

“Yeah, not going to happen,” I snapped, brushing off the dirt from my spandex. Just as I prepared to take off into a sprint, Iron Fist grabbed my wrist, immediately causing me to shiver from both the tightness and coolness of his grip.

“Perhaps I have not made myself clear. This is our job. I can’t have you running off diving into something you can’t possibly win. I read the records, Red Devil used to be your mentor. That’s why us working together as a team is ideal, da? Someone has to be there to ensure you don’t have another moment of weakness. That man is putrid, and used your past together to his advantage. It’s why he’s not in custody right now.”

I shrugged off Iron Fist, biting my lip angrily. “Look,” I huffed. “I don’t need you belittling me. You know nothing, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t butt into my life, you have no right. I was taken by shock just now, simple. I didn’t expect the chick to have a taser on her.”

“Exactly. If I was there, that would have never happened. You need someone to watch your back.”

“I DO NOT!”

Iron Fist’s facial expression darkened. The air got chillier, if possible. “Kirkland was right, you are an immature brat,” he spat in a flat tone. “Is that what you want? To follow in your mentor’s footsteps? To be selfish and feign being a martyr who doesn’t let anyone tie him down? Just look at where that led your idol, Ludwig’s idol. You never had someone to keep you in line. It’s why you’ll eventually fall too if you’re not careful.”

“SHUT UP!” I screeched, raking a hand through my hair. “Just… shut up. I don’t need to hear something that I already know, especially from a stranger like you.”

Iron Fist sighed in understanding. “Mr. Jones, you are still very young and have much to learn. But,” he paused, reaching over to place a gentle hand over my shoulder. “All you need is guidance, a friend. I may be new here, but I know how lonely living this life can be. You can trust me. Fighting by yourself is a hidden burden, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

The sirens in the distance became louder.

I glanced up into Iron Fist’s eyes, blushing slightly. His gaze was just so piercing. He had such an usual eye color. “Fuck it!” I nodded my head. “Let’s do it. We need a plan.”

Iron Fist smiled. The sight of it sent a strange surge of warmth in my chest. “I’m glad we could reach an agreement. This will be much fun. The city’s two most powerful Supers, fighting together? My, my, the media is going to have a field day tomorrow.”

“Ahem, there’s only one powerful Super here, and that’s me!” I protested.

Iron Fist bent down, mockingly inspecting me with pursed lips. “What? Do my ears beseech me or did this lanky kitten just claim he’s stronger than me? You should really learn to respect your elders.”

“Actually, I am,” I glared. “My powers are super strength and speed. It’s nice to see that your ice powers also translate into your personality. Because my dude, you are cold. Also, you’re only three years older than me. Talk down to me again, and I’ll go for your throat. I’ll fight ya man, the minute we’re done here, I swear to God!”

“Spasibo,” Iron Fist grinned. “Being cold is a speciality of mine. Oh, and I highly doubt that.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. Speak English, I’m not fluent in commie.”

“The plan, Alfred?” Iron Fist rolled his eyes. “You can be a jerk to me later. We need to focus on catching those deviants first.”

The police were just around the corner.

“Yes, yes fine, whatever. Okay, how much do you know?”

“Nothing. I walked in right after seeing a woman half your height taser you. Although, I have fought Red Devil before. I know he’s not a force to be taken lightly.”

I gave Iron Fist an unamused look. “Putting aside your sarcasm, this makes things easier for me. Red Devil is holding her hostage. He has her husband and is likely blackmailing her with his life, so I would be wary of her too, just in case. She’s desperate and isn’t in a right state of mind. If it comes down to it, we save her instead of the money, got it?”

Iron Fist didn’t voice any protest.

“Good,” I affirmed, only to yelp when I saw Arthur’s cruiser speed around the corner. The thick eyebrowed lunatic was using the microphone installed in the vehicle to yell at me, as per usual.

“Uh-oh, he doesn’t sound very happy,” Iron Fist smugly commented.

“What is up with your voice?” I hissed. “Stop speaking to me as if I’m a child!”

“I’m not,” Iron Fist shook his head. “This is just how I talk.”

I scoffed. “Oh, yeah, riiiiiiiight. Let me guess, you like also sunflowers, sunshine, and late-night walks on the beach?”

“…What’s wrong with that?” Iron Fist wavered.

“Ugh! Enough! I’m out. We need to get to high ground. That way I can spot where that bastard is heading.”

I bent my knees, preparing to leap onto the nearest rooftop. I stopped, realizing I didn’t have time to wait for Ivan to climb up the fire escape manually.

Sighing, I bent over, cupping both hands. “Step on, man. I’m giving you a lift.”

Not that I had much of a choice.

I kneeled down.

“…”

“Do it, Ivan. We don’t have time for you to pussy out now!”

Iron Fist’s nervousness must have affected his English. “I am being no such thing. I am not liking that…that mischievous look in your eyes!!”

I smirked. “Bock! Bock! Bock! Chicken!”

“What is this sound you’re making?”

“Bock! My name is Iron Fist! Bock! Bock! I’m a pussy! Cough Cough Bock!”

“You’re insufferable,” Iron Fist stated venomously, albeit stepping onto my hands. I held his entire weight as if it were nothing. I was strong enough to stop trains and buildings from falling, after all.

“Thanks dude, I really needed that ego boost. Here’s yours.”

I thrust Ivan into the air, revelling in his high-pitched shriek as he tucked and rolled onto the rooftop above. His instincts acquired from several years of military service saved him from injuring himself.

Meanwhile, I leapt onto the roof with ease, smooth and slick like a cat, avoiding the beam of Arthur’s  beloved spotlight in the nick of time. Ha!

Iron Fist rolled his neck and arms, wringing out the kinks from his rough landing. “I think I just figured out your signature trade mark; obnoxiousness,” he said bitterly.

“Obnoxiousness, handsomeness, bravery, they’re all the same to me,” I waved him off. “Now, let’s catch some baddies, yeah?”

Iron Fist scowled.

Ignoring him, I scoured the city with my eyes, already having a faint idea of where Red Devil would be heading. There were several warehouses located in the east side of the city, near the port. He was likely storing both the husband and the money there.

Sure enough, I spotted the black van I was looking for speeding down seventh street.

“Found them!” I declared, pointing Ivan in the right direction.

“What now then?”

I grinned wickedly. “Hop on my back and you’ll see.”

“I’m really regretting accepting this job.”

“It’s not too late to back out now…pussy.”

THUD!

Iron Fist leapt onto my back, cussing in Russian.  

When I began to sprint at an inhuman speed, intending to leap from rooftop to rooftop, that’s when Ivan panicked.

“Alfred, nyet! We’re going to fall!”

“You told me to trust you, now it’s your turn to trust me. I could do this in my sleep, bruh. We need to get ahead of those guys if we’re going to catch them.”

I pretended not to let the coolness of his body temperature, let alone his close proximity bother me. By the grace of God, the night was able to mask the flustered blush on my face. Also, I did have a mask…

Iron Fist tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum as I ran half-way across the city in the span of two minutes. I chose to stop at a rooftop three blocks ahead of the port area. That way, we had time to plan a proper ambush of the van.

While Iron Fist informed Arthur of where we were, using a wrist watch as his form of communication, I estimated we had three minutes before the van would be within ambushing range.

“Yes sir,” Iron Fist drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Da. Da. Da. Da. Nyet. We’ll be careful. Nyet. Da, he’s with me. Okay, talk to you soon.”

“How come you get a wrist watch and I get an earpiece?” I spluttered.

“I know how to follow orders the first time they’re given to me,” Iron Fist airily replied, passively smug. “I don’t need to be constantly reminded.”

“Hmmph!” I pouted. “Not fair. Anyway, that’s them right there,” I pointed at the van, directing Ivan’s gaze. “I think I have a plan.”

“Go on…”

“Freeze the road. They’ll slip on a patch of black ice. I’ll stop the vehicle before they crash, and bam! Red Devil gets caught, the bank gets the money back, Mrs. H gets her husband back, and Arthur can finally go to the hospital to have his aneurism treated.”

“I have no arguments.”

“Good, let’s roll out.”

Iron Fist climbed onto the edge of the roof, holding out his dominant hand. The air gathered around him in a cool wind as he absorbed its moisture.

A faint whooshing sound emanated as Iron Fist thrust his hand downwards, coating a small path of the road with ice. “Now we wait,” he told me.

“Yep.”

Unsuspecting, the van drove onto the patch of ice Iron Fist had concocted, spinning uncontrollably, tires shrieking.

I leapt down to ground level, creating another dent in the road. I would write it off as Red Devil’s fault if Arthur ever asked me about it…

Meanwhile, Ivan had to climb down himself this time.

Right before the van smashed into a city administration building, I dove in front of it, placing both hands on the bumper. I slowed it to a complete stop.

Mrs. Héderváry was at the wheel, wide-eyed as she pawed at the air bag that had haphazardly popped out to catch her crash.

“Miss me?” I grinned.

“YOU!” Red Devil bellowed.

The passenger door was kicked open angrily, skidding across the other end of the street.

Red Devil’s eyes glowed dangerously. Trouble struck when I was lifted in the air by an invisible force. What?! Since when could he perform telekinesis?!

Red Devil’s shoes clacked as he slowly made his way over to me, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. I gasped and struggled for oxygen, clawing at the invisible hands around my throat.

“Jones!” Iron Fist called out from the rooftop. “Hang on, I’m coming!”

I didn’t have time to respond, screaming when Red Devil punched me in the stomach. In moments of peril or confusion, the strength of my muscles weren’t consistent. Gilbert knew all of my weaknesses; he was the one who had trained me into the Super I am today.

“G-Gilbert!” I wheezed, red-faced. “What have you done? This! This isn’t normal.”

“I took something that will allow me to rise to the top. I thought I told you to back off. Tsk! Tsk! You’ve brought this onto yourself. Hmmm. Rebellious boy Alfred fights off against his ‘corrupted’ former mentor,” Red Devil mused, holding up a hand to the air. “I can see the headlines now. The whole press mourning for your early and unexpected departure. How tragic! I’ll have to remember to frame it once it’s printed.”

“You’re mad.”

“That I am. I’m angry at how the world works. But you know what? No matter who’s in charge, life will always be a bitch to someone. Just like it is to you now.”

“AHHH!” I grit my teeth. Red Devil had slipped past my mental block. It felt like my entire body was on fire, my nerves were fried.

“Come on, let it all out. No need to hold any formalities with me. It would be a shame to waste your potential, pathetic and grovelling as you are now. None of my students will ever excel past my own abilities; it’s both a disappointing and rewarding feeling. I mean seriously, is that all you have to fight back? My, I’m almost regretting adopting you under my wing.”

“Screw you!” I was beginning to black out.

“Ah, there’s that spunk I missed. It’s the only redeemable trait you have.”

Mrs. Héderváry stepped out of the car, rubbing her head.

She slowly approached Red Devil.

“Ah, Elizabeta, dear, it looks like you will have to take off on foot. Get the money and run. I’ll rendezvous with you later.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Gilbert?”

What the heck. She knows Gilbert personally…

“Ja, liebling?” Red Devil teased, mockingly looking over his shoulder. Every thirty seconds he would give me a chance to breathe before tightening the invisible grip he had around my throat.

“I agree with Mr. Jones, screw you! I’m done playing your games! I can’t take it anymore!”

Out of nowhere, Elizabeta pulled out a pan from behind her back, cracking it against the back of Red Devil’s skull. Fury crossed over his expression before his eyes became blank and his body crumpled against the street.

Clang! Elizabeta let go of the pan. Hell if I knew where she got it from.

I also fell to my knees, gasping for breath.

Elizabeta crouched next to me, sobbing. “I’m sorry!” she apologized. “I didn’t know what to do. He has my husband,” she explained to me again. “No matter what I do, he just keeps lying and refuses to let Roderich go. I thought listening to him would work, but I just got sick of it. God! He’s h-hurt so many people, r-right in front of me. Oh…oh no. I’ve gone completely mad, haven’t I?” she wailed.

I shook my head. With a pained grunt, I stood up, offering my hand to Elizabeta. “No ma’am. You’re not mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have helped me just then. Thank you, you’ve done this city a great deed. I’ll do everything in my power to clear your name, rest assured. We’ll also find your husband for you.”

“Thank you!” Elizabeta sniffled, gripping onto my blouse with a shaking fist. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Of course, any time,” I winked, patting her back before parting. “Now, if you excuse me, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Jones!” Iron Fist called out, coming out of the building he had likely just broken into. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m –”

WHAP!

Elizabeta and I both shrieked as an invisible force knocked us backwards into a building. I had broken the fall. Since she had been standing in front of me, I was able to catch her, holding her protectively against my chest.

She wouldn’t have survived the impact had I not done this. Still, she was unconscious, likely with a severe concussion. Heck, I could hardly keep my own eyes open. Everything hurt. Everything was loud. There was a pestering ringing in my ears that just wouldn’t stop.

“HA!” Red Devil exclaimed. “Did you really think a mere kitchen utensil could triumph over me? Don’t make me laugh. I was just waiting for the stone-cold shithead to get his husky arse down here. I still have a bone to pick with you, you hear that, Fisty? You owe me an entire shipment of weapons!”

Ignoring the villain, Iron Fist took a few steps towards Elizabeta and I. To prevent this from happening, Red Devil waved his hand, moving the crushed van with his mind.  

Weakly, I stretched out my leg to prevent the van from crushing us, pushing it out of view. I was too tired to move again, impatiently waiting for my strength to recover.

“Eyes on me, Fisty,” Red Devil repeated with a growl.

Iron Fist glared venomously. “Not only have you broken the law, but you’ve also hurt my friend. I will spare you no mercy, Devil.”

“Gut! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Iron Fist cried out, unprepared as Red Devil sent his nerves on fire.

“Ivan!” I screamed. “Damn it!” I cursed, struggling to stand up. “Fight back, it’s possible to block him with your mind if you think hard enough. Imagine a wall around yourself! This ability – cough – comes easy to Supers! You can do it – cough.”

Red Devil, likewise to what he did to me, raised Iron Fist in the air so that he hovered above the ground by a few feet.

“You think you’re so cool, don’t you?” Red Devil smirked. “You’re no role model, Fisty. You’re a disgrace to your country, running away when the going gets tough. It’s even more pitiful than dear Alfie’s predicament. You’ve done some horrible things that the Americans don’t know about. It’s about time you told them.”

“Don’t let him get to you!” I protested.

“Can it, Jones! You’re interrupting my awesome diabolic monologue. Anyways, where was I? Ah ja, ja, that’s right. You’ve murdered innocent people, Ivan. You’ve tortured, mutilated, and driven people mad, all because some psycho in office told you to. There is no good and evil if you let go of societal rules, you’re just you. It’s in our nature to be selfish, to grab what we can so we can thrive. Join me, I know you have what it takes to turn this world around. You and I, we won’t just exist. We’ll live like Kings.”

Iron Fist trembled. “Unlike you, I did not choose to become a monster. I am not proud of what I did, but when your family is threatened, you will do anything for them. I came here to start fresh, to give them a better life. Cowardly as it may be, I know that abandoning my country was the right decision. I became a hero to show others that there is always a right path in life, you just have to find it. I decline your offer!”

Red Devil laughed. “How naïve. Don’t you realize? The Americans are no better than the Russians, they’re just more covert in their agenda. You’ll see, soon we Supers won’t have a mind to call our own. It looks like they’ve already brainwashed you. Who’s the real monster now?”

Red Devil stopped, releasing his grip on Iron Fist’s throat. “You will regret standing against me. The moment this world becomes mine, I’ll kill your sisters, listening to them cry out for the brother who won’t be there to save them.”

Something in Iron Fist snapped.

The air grew frigid, not just cold. Snowflakes danced in the air.

CRACK!

Pillars of ice jutted up from the ground, sending Red Devil ten feet into the air. His cape was caught on a pillar where he hung foolishly, feet kicking in shock.

“What in the ever loving fuck?!” Red Devil spluttered, silenced when the tip of another ice spear was placed dangerously close to his throat.

Iron Fist glowed a bright purple, waves of uncontrollable fury rolling off him.

“Threaten me all you want, but don’t you dare get my sisters involved in this!” Iron Fist seethed, his voice no longer soft but rather, harsh; brutal; frozen and devoid of all emotion. “You wanted the monster? Well here he is! Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Red Devil was trapped. If he made so much as one move with his mind, he’d get skewered in the throat. Acknowledging this, he grinned, running off the euphoric adrenaline of the moment. “Do it, I dare you. You’re not strong enough. You don’t impress me, you’re all talk,” he huffed.

The spear advanced one inch, poking Red Devil’s throat – his crimson eyes bugged out in genuine fear.

Horrified, I laid Elizabeta to the side, standing up. I was almost healed at this point.

“Ivan don’t!” I called out. “You’re letting him get to you. Damn it, I know you’re better than this. You’re a Super! For crying out loud, let him go. He doesn’t deserve such an easy end. What he deserves is to rot in prison! Do you think your sisters would want you to stoop this low? Heck no!”

The purple glow around Iron Fist faded. “Alfred, I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what overcame me. You’re right.”

“It’s all good,” I wheezed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the first time he’s gotten under someone’s skin. It happens to the best of us… so I guess that would include you,” I squeaked.

“You should probably lower him now,” I advised, noting the sound of sirens in the distance.

Iron Fist nodded his head, shifting the ice pillars so that they still trapped the villain, threatening to pierce him at any given moment.

When the villain was at ground level, I walked up to him, pulling out the bracelet that all Supers employed by the police carried; a power neutralizer.

I wrapped the silver bracelet around Gilbert’s wrist, refusing to look him in the eye until the very last moment.

The ice hissed, beginning to melt.

“Ivan?”

“Da?”

“I’m going to do something morally questionable. Don’t tell the police about it, this is personal.”

Iron Fist didn’t say anything, silently communicating his approval.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt!” I commanded. “You are now under arrest. Oh, and go fuck yourself while you’re at it. That was for me. And this, this is for Ludwig…”

Gilbert looked at me with pure hatred.

WHACK!

Gilbert’s head jutted backwards. I had punched him in the nose, knocking him unconscious.

I dusted off my hands. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree is such a crummy expression. The apple fell away from the tree is more accurate if you ask me.”

Iron Fist gave me an incredulous look before smiling and fondly reaching over to ruffle my hair. “Are you always this dramatic?”

“S-shut up, will ya?!”

As always, the wrap up of an arrest always went by in a blur.

A still disoriented Elizabeta was escorted into a police cruiser under the promise that she wouldn’t be held accountable for what she had done under Red Devil’s orders.

Meanwhile, Gilbert, reduced to a normal human by the neutralizer, struggled amongst the team of officers holding him. “Beta, how could you?!” he wailed, dropping all professionalism, along with his act. “I’m…I’m sorry…”

Elizabeta glared at Gilbert, her eyes filled with hatred. “We may have been friends when we were children, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me. No friend would ever blackmail or hold someone close to them hostage. And you wonder why we fled town. It was to get away from you and your bullshit!”

Gilbert bowed his head in shame, succumbing to his fate. He didn’t put up a fight as three police officers just about shoved him into the back of a cruiser.

I whistled, waiting for Iron Fist to be freed of questioning. The other officers didn’t trust me, so they were taking longer with Ivan, wanting to get all the information right. I was used to this type of treatment so it didn’t bother me.

Someone had given me a bottle of blue Gatorade, so I was happily busying myself with drinking that.

The moment I saw a messy head of blond hair, I panicked, choking on my drink; dropping it. I weaved in and out of the crowd, but Arthur was a ruthless bloodhound if I’ve ever seen one.

He caught up to me in no time, grabbing me by the suspenders. “You little fucking cocky twat!” he cursed, throttling me back and forth. “Just look what you’ve done! The damages are through the roof!”

“Actually I was on a rooftop, but please, do continue.”

WHACK!

“Ooomph!”

Arthur let go of my suspenders, green eyes livid with anger, caterpillar eyebrows scrunched so that they were united together. He then resorted to pinching my cheeks.

“Just once, can you ever listen to me?! This all could have been resolved without this…this mess! Five damaged buildings, nine roads, two cars, and don’t even get me started on how many ogling children you must have influenced for the worst! And what is up with those bruises? Medic! Medic! Damn, where are the bloody medics? Can no one do their job in this blasted city?”

I shrugged off the Chief with a whine. “Artie, calm your non-existent tits. I’m good, man. The bruises will be gone by morning. I caught the bad guy, didn’t I? Rejoice, relax, unwind, get laid. You’re not even thirty years old. Why don’t you start acting like it?”

“I agree,” Francis purred. “It’s about time you stopped coddling him, cher,” he mused, draping an arm over Arthur’s shoulders. This gesture didn’t last long as Arthur shrugged him off on instinct. “It’s clear to moi that he can take care himself, eh, just not the city.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive!” Arthur shouted, only to wince and grab at his forehead. “God, this is all just too much.”

I shrugged. “You can yell at me all you want tomorrow. Let’s just work on getting everyone home safely.”

“Agreed.”

WHACK!

“Ouch!” I protested, grabbing the back of my now sore head. “The suspenders weren’t enough?”

Arthur flipped me off. I wasn’t talking to Chief Kirkland. I was talking to Arthur Kirkland, my next-door-neighbor.

“Good night, jackass. I’ll be looking forward to ripping into you,” Arthur leered in warning before turning on his heels and leaving with a smug-looking Francis.

“So do I!” I laughed, despite wanting to cry on the inside, just a little. “Hey, have you seen Iron Fist anywhere?

“Sod off.”

“He’s just coming out of questioning now,” Francis answered, pointing a lazy, languid hand to his left.

Sure enough, I found Ivan sitting on the hood of a parked cruiser, absently staring ahead.

Without a word, I sat next to him. “Hey,” I greeted after a comfortable amount of time had passed.

“Look man, I’m sorry about what happened in your past, in Russia I mean. I know things aren’t great here, but I sure do hope they’re better,” I rambled.

“Come, let’s go somewhere else.” Iron Fist grabbed my wrist gently, guiding us away from the cruiser when its angry owner began to yell at us for smearing the paint job. Yeah, you’re welcome for saving the city, buddy.

Strangely, I felt my stomach drop when Iron Fist let go of my wrist.

After putting some distance between us and the other officers, only then did Ivan speak. “The past is the past, Alfred. I try not to let it bother me. Still, I have to thank you. You got through to me. Nyet, you spoke to me. You were a voice of reason… you saved me from that monster. I don’t know if I would have been able to do what you just did. Fighting against the one who raised you into who you are must have been immensely difficult.”

“It was and will be when I have to face him in court again,” I admitted sadly. “But, I do know that whatever happens, it’s in his best interest. Who knows, maybe I’ll see the real Gil again. I can only hope.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, buddy?”

“Da?”

“I never thought I would say this, but we sure do make a good team. We, uh, should do it again if our paths just so happen to cross. And uh, thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you either. You saved my ass.”

“Mhmmm,” Iron Fist agreed. “I would like that to happen too. You can be the sidekick,” he said, violet eyes smug.

“Like hell I will!” I exploded. “I’m always the leader!”

“We’ll see. Remember that I’m older, taller, and smarter than you. But not stronger, I can at least admit that.”

“Hmmph!”

Iron Fist smiled.

Suddenly, my heart couldn’t stop beating.

“Well, I’m sure my sisters must be wondering where I am. The youngest refuses to go to bed unless I kiss her forehead goodnight.”

“How cute,” I grinned.

“She’s nineteen, like you.”

“Oh…”

Iron Fist laughed. “I very much would like to work with you again. Before I met you, I saw you as competition, someone to beat. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Now I know that we work best when we’re together. As a team, we’d be unstoppable. Let’s stop this petty feud of reputations and focus on making this city a great place to live again instead,” he proposed.

“Yeah! That’d be great!” I grinned.

What Ivan did next took me by surprise. He brought my hand to his lips, feathering a light kiss against the gloved fabric. Still, it felt way too intimate to be real.

“Until next time, Jones.”

I flushed all kinds of red. “Uh-huh! G-good night!”

…

The next morning

…

Arthur waved a hand in front of Alfred’s flushed face, noting the latter’s dazed and overall vacant expression.

“Yoohoo! Earth to ignorant yank!”

Alfred’s face broke out into a dopey grin, giggling. “He kissed my hand. Can ya believe it?”

“No, but I do want you out of my office. You’re beginning to scare me.”

Alfred, like a zombie, shuffled out of the police chief’s office.

Arthur turned to look at Francis, incredulous. “Francis, I think Red Devil did something to his mind!”

“Non, you fool. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Oh? And how do you figure that?”

Francis rolled his eyes. Why did he ever bother? “He’s clearly lovestruck, you imbecile.”

-The end