#he needed his red shoulder cloth from XV in some way

[loqis]

VERSE | FF VII

Loqi is an aspiring young recruit of the SOLDIER program just on the cusp of getting his first Mako injections and trials to be sorted into higher classes.

He is a prodigy when it comes to mathematics and engineering, aspiring to lead the mech-troops of Shinra. Hotheaded and ruthless, the Mako enhances these traits alongside with his blinding pride and confidence, creating a rather dangerous mix.

Strongly affilated with @proxnotxaxfool - in which Reno is Loqi's older brother.

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVI | Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

Veger was not prepared for the Wastes to be in disarray, or for the memories that come with it.

Veger glanced out the window of the transport vehicle as it landed. The sight of the sand and desolate climate brought a bit of a curl to his lips—he’d always hated the visits to this place but needs often must and for Veger they must often. He turned his gaze from the window to Onin who sat next to him covered in a long white wrap that he found in her closet. Her fingers were wrapped tightly with the bracelet that Pecker had given her once upon a time. Veger sighed.

“Mother,” he said, and kept his tone soft as he spoke, well aware of her delicate state. “We have arrived in the Wastes.”

Onin glanced up at him from the bracelet and then back down to where her fingers were wrapped tight.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Veger murmured, and placed a hand upon Onin’s shoulder. She looked to him with blank and near unseeing eyes, and Veger wondered where her vision rested. With Pecker as he was torn apart by the Metal Heads? Or some far off future that she had no real comprehension of? Veger wondered, and then shook his head of it.

As a man of science Veger really did not like to ponder Onin’s penchant for ‘Prophecy’ and the foolish notion that it truly existed. As her son however he’d grown up with Words and words and Veger often knew the effects of Eco upon elfin kind were vast and varied and resulted in some very unusual abilities. Prophecy, of course, being the one that primarily ran itself through his side of the family. Veger felt rather happy that the whole mess skipped his generation, even if it left the girl to take the brunt of it.

“Afan,” Veger said shortly toward the transport technician; Afan turned his head and regarded him through red tinted goggles, well used to these frequent visits of the Count. “Don’t let any of those…people near the transport. We should be back within a few hours if all goes well.”

Afan nodded. “I’ll radio if anything changes, or if I need to leave before your time is up.”

With a nod Veger turned around and carefully began to gather up Onin in her wrap. “Come Mother,” he said gently, “let us go see Seem.”

Onin’s mouth moved, formed the name Seem silently and Veger felt a little bit of himself relax. If she could focus on the girl, then she could probably recover to be useful enough in the future. Onin always knew the right words to point him in the right direction, and Veger really needed that now more than ever. With the line of Mar back in power, once more spreading their divine nonsenses and blessed bloodline foolishness Veger found himself at a standstill of how he could get everything back on track. That damned Jak—the weapon of Praxis’ remains that walked about as if it were King—pah, Veger would handle that soon enough; he just needed Onin well first.

The transport door opened and immediately the desert air brushed against Veger’s face and he grimaced. The climate never agreed with him—too hot, too humid and arid and every -id under the sun, really. He detested the warmth, the way it seeped beneath his clothes and made him sweat something unholy. Carefully Veger moved Onin down the steps of the ramp into the sand that dug into the seams of his shoes. He lifted one and shook it; damn things would need to be replaced now. Sand remained that one impossible thing to remove.

“Come, Mother,” Veger said, and pushed Onin away from the transport and out into the desert heat fully. The sun baked down upon them as they moved; thankfully the transport pad rested close to the shadow of a cliff face, and one of the entrances to the Precusor Monks’ vast chambers. It always amused Veger how people seemed to think so little of the Monks, when really they numbered almost as large as a small encampment. A pity that they were all known to one another; good channelers were hard to come by in this day and age.

Curse Brandon, Veger thought bitterly. He could’ve had more chances to study the way eco interacted with a channeler that had no baseline substance if the man hadn’t swept every possible candidate into his weapons program. Look what it got them in the end, too—nothing but a broken tool, with too inflated of an ego to see the damage it was doing. Veger huffed as he shifted Onin now out of the sun and into the blessed cool breeze in the shadows.

“There we go,” Veger said gently as he settled her against the cliff. “I will go and check on the entrance. You stay here, Mother.”

Onin signed out one word—fingers shaky as they moved, and clumsy around the bracelet. Return?

Veger crouched down next to Onin and tried not to imagine the way the sand would get into the hem of his pants or his jacket—he’d need to replace those too, damn it all. Instead he gave Onin the best, reassuring smile he could given everything that had happened. It might’ve wavered at the edges of cold, but Onin knew him well enough to understand that cold was just Veger’s way.

“Obviously, Mother,” Veger said. “I will have Precursor Monks as my guard.”

Onin regarded him, eyes clear and serious for a moment, and then she nodded sharply and drifted back off into the distance where Veger couldn’t follow her. He sighed heavily and climbed to his feet, watched the way her gaze tracked down to the bracelet, and then turned sharply on heel as he moved away from her.

The temple was a mess, more than Veger felt used to seeing. Monks moved back and forth through hastily piled mounds of debris, broken shards of pottery or mountainside from some event that Veger lacked the knowledge of. They pushed pallets that contained barrels of eco from the Monks' personal stores that they hoarded like gold, now out in the open for any visitor to see. Not that the Precursor Monks ever really had visitors inside the temple; they kept their secrets guarded close to their chest after all. More than once since Veger entered the temple he had to quickly duck out of the path of the rushed pallets as Monks paid him little mind as they moved about their sanctuary.

Veger pressed his lips thin; he wondered if this had any ties to the mess back in Haven, or perhaps Pecker's untimely, and unexpected, passing. He knew Onin suffered from visions since the event, more incoherent than ever before. Veger could barely pull her back himself, hence this trip to the desert wasteland and the Precursor Monks inner sanctuary. Only Seem, the reckless child that she was, could parse the mess that was Onin's mind now. At least Veger hoped she would; it would be his damned luck if the girl turned out useless as everything else, after all.

"Master Veger."

Veger turned and regarded the lithe, painted and armored form that had made its way to his side silently. He recognized this Monk, the one who often took Seem under her wing ever since she'd been left to the Monks' vaunted Order for safeguarding. Veger inclined his head slightly in greeting. "Elder Shale," Veger said, voice deceptively light.

"Your presence was not anticipated," Shale said. "I apologize for the poor greeting. Please, follow me." Shale dipped her head and turned silently to lead Veger through the debris and hallway. Veger noted how she took him from the main thoroughfare where the pallets of eco barrels were being quickly moved. Instead she led him down smaller corridors that provided pathways to personal rooms. Even here the debris had not yet been cleaned, but hastily swept aside.

"Busy, aren't we?" Veger murmured as he toed around a pile of debris.

"There as been an Emergency," Shale uttered. "If we had known of your coming we would have warned you to reschedule." Veger's lip curled at the faint rebuke in her words, and then curled further when he recognized where Shale brought him.

With lips pressed together Veger gripped his cane tightly in one hand and stopped in front of the door Shale led him to. He turned on heel and looked at her, gaze stony. "Where is Seem."

Shale dipped her head. "Young Master Seem at this moment is overseeing the Emergency. I apologize, Master Veger. She is not anticipated to return for some time." Shale gestured toward the door. "You may rest here, for now. I must return to oversee the Acolytes who are taking inventory at this time."

Veger fought the urge to snarl, and instead said tightly, "I did not travel alone," before Shale could take leave of him. This brought the Elder short, and she looked to Veger almost surprised. "I require Seem's presence. Immediately."

"I am sorry, Master Veger, but Seem is not within the Sanctuary," Shale said, words short. "Who is this companion of yours and where have you left them? The Sands are not safe, right now."

Veger waved a hand. "I know that thunder season is upon us but I hardly consider that a threat--"

"There was a quake," Shale interrupted. She gestured to the mess around them. "As you can see we too have suffered some structural concerns. We were not the only ones hurt. The Sands are not safe, Master Veger. Who is your guest?"

A quake--Veger tightened his grip. There hadn't been any quake in the desert in decades. Not since the volcano had settled into some manner of slumber before Veger had even been born. The ground didn't even suffer from any sort of fault lines like those seen closer to the Brink shrouded in mist as that area of the world was. Veger sucked in a deep breath and relaxed his stance slightly; if this were truly some form of quake then no doubt Seem would be in the right middle of it, with Damas at the helm for whatever mess surrounded them. Veger didn't want to bother with Damas, which meant he'd be forced to wait until whatever business the girl hand concluded, as much as it irritated him to do so.

"I have brought Mother," Veger said, words light. "She waits in the shade outside."

Shale, conversely, went stiff with Veger's words. "Prophet Onin?" Shale questioned. "You brought her here?"

Veger pursed his lips. "I said I require Seem. Now do you understand why?"

Shale scrutinized him, then closed her eyes with a heavy breath. "Very well. Please wait here Master Veger and I shall receive the Prophet. A missive will be sent to Young Master Seem at the earliest convenience. For your safety I ask that you do not leave the apartments."

Veger inclined his head in agreement. A moment longer of staring at one another and then Shale turned on silent feet and left. Veger watched her until she turned the corner, and then let his gaze linger upon the door in front of him. His hands clasped the head of his cane tightly in an effort to still them as he stared at the nameplate upon the door, the one that signaled the owner of these apartments.

Jetta ; Nimat

Veger closed his eyes and breathed to steady himself before he pressed the door open. He expected a fine layer of dust; it had been years after all since he last visited this place. He had no desire to relive the memories here, so he often kept his visits brief when he came to the temple and the Sanctuary. Yet the counters were clean, not a speck of dust in sight. The entire space was kept as it was when Veger had last stepped foot into the apartments--including the glass on the counter, although no water filled it now, and Veger noted it had been shaken out of place.

The cane in his hand Veger settled into the small stand by the door once he picked it back up from where it had fallen. He shrugged his coat off and slipped it onto the coatrack as he stepped further into the apartments that he once spent so much time in. He ran his fingers along the couch, an old thing he'd brought with him from Haven once. It's color had faded, and there were more signs of wear on it for not having been used in nearly a decade. Mothflies, Veger figured given the few holes in the fabric. He stepped around the couch and looked to one of the doors that led to a further room. After a second Veger turned his head away.

He lacked the desire to see that old room, for now. All it would do is to serve as a reminder of times he'd rather kept behind him as much as possible. Seem was plenty enough of a reminder for Veger these days; her face in that heart shape that he once knew so well. Veger shook his head and shuttered the thoughts and memories. Jetta was gone. He didn't need to delve into the past again, even if here all it did was stare at him in his face.

"I do not like this," Seem said in a rasp as she watched Damas gather together an offering for the Clans and Chieftain Aermsmin.

Damas shook his head and uttered softly, "If Aermsmin has asked for me, after everything, I will honor his request." Damas knew how the Clans viewed him. They had their reasons to deny him, and to deny Spargus both. The tensions between Spargans and the Clans were an older thing, and Damas knew his own presence and his family bloodline certainly hadn't made things any better. Aermsmin had been kind, for a given meaning of the word, once in the early days of Damas' time in the desert wasteland. At least until Sia and Sig came into his life.

"The Clans are not known for their understanding," Seem pointed out. "You have not been a part of talks as far as my memory holds, Lord Damas."

"For good reason, I assure you," Damas said wryly. His shoulder burned with the painful memory of the last time he saw Aermsmin and the Clans.

From his corner of the room Talin rolled his eyes. "We shared drink, Master Seem. Aermsmin will honor truce for this meeting, no matter what bad blood is between the Clans and Spargus." Seem pursed her lips, but she knew when she was outnumbered.

"Master Talin," Damas gestured for Talin to come over and look at what he had gathered. "Anything here that might offend?"

Talin walked over and looked at the gathered items, then carefully sectioned out the few Spargan beacons that were scattered on the table, set aside the chip marked water and another chip marked medical supplies and tapped one chip that was marked with cactus wine.

"This will be your best option," Talin said. "Cactus Wine is easy enough for both sides to acquire if they so wish, and so will not be seen as an insult to provide. Instead it offers a drink to bind agreements, and you bringing it would show your willingness to bend to those agreements." Talin glanced up at Damas and licked his lips. "I know the Clans do not look favorably upon you."

"Yes," Damas said rather bluntly. "I am aware of the moniker that...Aermsmin has taken to calling me." He huffed a sort of bitter laugh. "Deceiver, isn't it?"

Talin ducked his head. "Yes, sir." He breathed out. "While I can see your other offers are meant in good faith, providing water, food, or medical supplies without the Chieftain discussing it with you can be seen as insult and flaunting wealth. There is enough bad blood between Spargus and the Clans that it would be better not to perpetuate more. If the Chieftain relays the need of the Clans for such, then you can bring these items to the table." Talin touched lightly on the chips, and then moved to the chip marked for Spargus beacons. "As for the beacons..."

"I offer them in good faith," Damas said. "I know Aermsmin has family."

"Yes." Talin looked at the beacon with a complicated gaze, brow furrowed and lips pressed together as he thought. "The Clans have...very different views about their people and safety. We--they--are trained to handle the desert and Her Gifts--the difficulties within. Since there is typically no stable camp, and the Clans move based upon the winds and the shifting of the sands, they need to be hardy. If one dies, it is either their time, or their failing at survival. To ask for help..." Talin bit his lip for a second and then shook his head. "If you need help, then you are not ready and should not have gone in the first place. Your failing is your own."

"He will not accept the beacons, then?" Damas questioned quietly. "Not even for you?"

Talin touched the chip, and then pushed it away. "I would rather he didn't." In silence Damas took the chip and handed it over to Dag, then pocketed the remaining chips for aid and picked up the chip of cactus wine.

"Dag," Damas said, and Dag tilted his head. "How quickly can we get some Cactus Wine?"

Dag cocked his head to the opposite side and ran some quick calculations in his head. "An hour or so, I think. We have some stored in the wine cellar, if I'm not mistaken. Do you want me to ask Sia to grab some?"

"No," Damas shook his head. "I'll call my wife myself." With a heavy breath Damas stepped away from the table and pulled out his communicator. He stepped out of the tent and into the desert heat and flicked through files and names until he landed upon Sia's contact information. For a moment Damas walked through camp, communicator in hand as he tapped it against his palm, lips pressed in thought. He reached the edge of the camp and looked at her contact name again, for a moment, hovered over the call button--and then flicked his thumb and changed it to Sig last moment.

You're stalling, Damas berated himself silently as the communicator beeped steadily in an attempt to reach Sig. Why bother stalling? It isn't as if she won't receive you.

Damas chewed on his lip and began to pace. Would she, though? he wondered. How long had it been since he'd honestly looked upon Sia, since they'd spoken? She'd cloistered herself away almost a year ago now; silence permeated their home between them like a rift--the reason souring the distance between them, embittering any sort of communication they might've had. Damas clenched the communicator tight and grit his teeth at the thought--Mar, his sweet child, gone for a year and a half now.

Static crackled through the communicator, a faint squeal, and then hazy and nearly masked by interference Damas heard, "Damas?" in what he guessed were Sig's dulcet tones. Damas slouched against a stone and sighed heavily.

"Sig," Damas said tiredly. "Do you have any news for me?"

For a moment the interference cut across the communicator, and then Sig's voice cut back in. Half of the words he said were lost, but what little Damas could hear had his lips pressed thin and downward into thought. "not--little Mar--commu--embargo."

"The fuck is Brandon doing?" Damas ground through his teeth. "A communications embargo....?"

"--dead--" more static and a squeal of interference cut through Sig's words. "--Kor--city atta--" Damas rubbed at his face, let the partial words and quarter sentences wash over him while he thought. "--wrecked--restor--work--by--King." Damas straightened at the last word as Sig went silent.

"That title belongs to my House," Damas said, words soft, brow furrowed. "Who..."

"--looks like you," Sig said, half sentence gone but enough to make Damas still completely. He could take a guess at the words, but it still left him just a bit on the edge of breathless as he uttered a faint, "Mar?"

"No," Sig said, clearest he'd been so far. "Not--" More static cut across and then a short squeal and half of the word 'teenager' came through, enough to tell Damas that either there was a bastard line out there, or something worse. Damas didn't want to think about what that something worse could even be. What it also told Damas was that there was still no sign of his missing son, a son he'd been certain stolen to Haven. Damas hand shook and he bowed his head.

Perhaps Sia was right to mourn, Damas thought. Maybe it was time to admit to a truth he dared not believe. His hands clenched tight over the communicator and he murmured a short thanks to Sig before he cut off communication. The Wastelander would contact him when he had a better connection, if only to make sure Damas hadn't gone and done something stupid given the abrupt disconnection. Damas stared at the device, thumbed Sia's name, and before he could trick himself into calling someone else he pushed the button to connect.

Sia picked up immediately, but she did not speak. Damas didn't for a moment either; they both just listened to the sound of their own breathing through the tinny quality of the communicator--and then Damas sighed, heavy with words he couldn't say--thoughts he couldn't name. Instead Damas said a soft, "Love," to Sia, filled with everything he felt and everything he could not let himself being of House Mar.

On the other side of the communicator, Sia sighed in response. A softer, quieter, "Love," was given back to him and Damas had to fight back the sudden burning in his heart, the pain in his eyes, and the way his breath wanted to hitch. Right now there were other things he had to focus on--things to keep his people safe from the dangers below their feet. Right now it would have to be enough. They would speak once the crisis had been handled. Sia deserved that much.

[adaodinson]

I didn´t call you babe, I was asking what it meant

It’s been a while since I posted a story, I apologize, I´ve been like crazy cause I’m starting college this year and well, I haven´t had time.

I finally watched Bill and Ted´s trilogy and of course I now adore them and have the biggest crush on Ted. I thought of this while rewatching the first movie today so here it is. In this story Lizzie and Joanna are saved by Rufus like in the movie, but they don´t stay with Bill an Ted (they can still be a part of the band though).

Summary: When the guys go to London in the XV century, they encounter someone else who needs a hand.

Relationship: Ted x femreader, Bill x platonic!femreader

Warnings: none.

Oh you did it this time, you certainly did it. There was no way you would get away from this execution. You were being dragged by the guards, not that you would try to fight them at this point, you knew it was hopeless, but you weren´t going to make it easy for them either.

The wooden door opened with a loud creak as the light from the outside blinded you. You could feel the change in the floor, from cold stone to dirt. You weren´t precisely scared, you were hoping you would get out of this just like the past times but now they took you by surprise, and unlike the others, you didn´t have an escape plan now.

You felt dozens of eyes on you, looking in disgust. Everyone here knew you at this point: the young girl with the weird accent that had no family and only knew how to steal. It was partially true, but of course there was more to you. You didn´t bother trying to change their minds about you anymore, though.

-Aha! I encounter you again- yelled the king from his seat. You rolled your eyes at him and at the look of victory in his eyes. You really didn´t want to give him the satisfaction of killing you, and you didn´t want to die either.

As the guards settled you in place, you realized they were dragging two weird looking guys and tying them up next to you. They had clothes you had never seen before, and they looked funnily scared. The blonde one had a kind aura, he seemed sweet, and the dark haired one, as foolish as he looked, you had to admit was rather handsome. Well, you were clearly lying to yourself, he was beautiful.

-First time here, boys?- You asked with a giggle, still refusing to believe you were going to die.

-You’ve been in this situation before? Are you a ghost?- they asked at the same time.

-I’ve indeed been in this situation before, but I can guarantee I´m not a ghost- you stated.

-Well, how did you get out? We could use some help ya know, babe- The dark haired said with a cute and confused look in his eyes. You flinched at the nickname, you certainly hadn´t heard that before and didn´t know what to think about it.

-Babe?- you asked.

-Yeah?- The same guy asked, waiting for you to say something else. His expression suddenly changed as if he had realized something- Wait, did you just call ME babe?- You swore he was blushing.

-No, I was asking you what it meant…ARGH- you were interrupted by the burning sensation of rope around your neck. They were putting you all in position for the execution.

Behind you, you heard a man screaming nonsense “They fell from the sky!!” “This devilish red box!!”. He was being carried by a cart and was hugging the weirdest thing you had ever seen.

-This is it. Lord, I can´t believe this- You were getting ready to face your destiny when you noticed there where only two executioners. Before you could even realize what was happening, the executioners cut the ropes that were holding you.

-Billy! Socrates!- The guys yelled while hugging the men. You then felt a hand on your shoulder and quickly turned, ready to punch who you thought was a guard.

-DON´T- The cute boy said while covering his face.

-Come on, babe! Come with us, we can get you out of here- You didn’t even stop to think about it, you just jumped to the cart and screamed your way through the town. You were speeding up more and more, and you were not feeling ready to die again, so as you passed a bridge, you managed to grab a rope that was tight to a wooden structure and pulled so it would block your persecutor´s way.

-WOW That was excellent! - both boys said at the same time and then did a strange movement with their hands in the air while shacking their heads happily. They were definitely the weirdest people you had ever met, but you liked that.

As you reached the woods, the guys hurried all of you to get into the red rectangle. You saw the blonde guy going through a book and pressing some metallic thingies.

-Oh I´m Ted by the way, and that is Bill, Socrates and Billy- Ted said while pointing at each of them. You blushed at his attention.

-I´m Y/N- you said with a worried smile since the guards were getting closer.

-Y/N- Ted repeated proudly- Beautiful name for a beautiful lady- That made you blush even more, especially since you were pretty close to him because of the small space inside the red rectangle.

Suddenly all your surrounding changed and you could only see what seemed like infinite. You closed your eyes while screaming and hang on to the shirt of whoever was next to you. Spoiler alert, it was Ted. He didn’t even scream through the time tunnels since he was too busy looking at you.

The red thing finally stopped and Bill asked you to stay inside. You didn´t see much of what happened out there, you just heard Bill and Ted say: “Be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes!”. You didn´t know what that meant, but they said it with such conviction you assumed they were wise words.

After the guys returned, you made more travels to who knows where and then finally arrived to what Bill and Ted called home. You saw Ted´s house and your head was now hurting with questions, but you understood Ted and Bill needed your help so you would ask everything after that.

They took you to a place called The Mall. It was huge and filled with people. You were looked at weirdly, but to you, the weird ones were all of them. Bill explained what The Mall was and Ted never left your side, he was at the end of the line, guarding all your new friends, but always made sure you were feeling safe.

They gave you a Slursy? Slusfy? Oh whatever, it was the most delicious thing you had ever tried, and Ted smiled so widely just by seeing how happy you were with it. He mentioned they would have to go get another historical figure that they had brought before, and you didn´t want to be without them so you asked if you could go with them. They agreed happily.

You then met Deacon, Ted´s little brother, and before you knew you were at a place called a water park? You didn´t understand so Ted took you to take a look and explain while Bill went looking for Napoleon. You got lost in Ted´s explanation by looking into his eyes, and he realized you weren´t paying attention. He thought you were making fun of him in your head or that you thought he was an idiot. But what you blurted out (according to you, you said it in your head, apparently you didn´t) made him see that wasn´t at all what you were thinking.

-How can you be so cute and pretty?- The question was out before you could even think. You turned a bright red and looked at the floor, but Ted softly grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

-You really think that, Y/N?- His eyes were filled with so much joy, hope and a beautiful spark that you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him.

-Well, yes, of course I do. I mean, you literally saved me and…- You weren´t allowed to finish, a pair of soft lips in yours interrupted you midsentence, but of course you didn´t care. You tasted and enjoyed every bit of it, just like Ted did.

-Okay guys, I found him… WOAH- Bill was carrying a man covered in a towel and was smirking at you both.

-DUDE- Ted said looking happier than you had ever seen him (and that was a lot to say).

-Awesome!- They both said and did what you now knew was an air guitar movement.

You headed back to the Mall and soon realized your historical friends had been taken to prison by Ted’s father. You didn’t really understand what was going on, everything was new for you and Bill had to drag you as you stood astonished looking at a bicycle (not to mention how many questions you asked about the car). The guys decided it would be best if you stayed with Missy and Napoleon in the car, Ted specified he didn’t want you to get hurt.

Missy asked you tons of questions and answered yours. She was really nice, and even though Napoleon was weird, he was really funny (because he didn’t understand anything).

Finally Bill and Ted returned with the others and you headed back to the Mall.

You weren’t a historical figure, so you got to watch the guy’s complete presentation from behind the stage and to clap like crazy when they finished. Ted had gotten you some clothes when you returned to the Mall, and you were the most comfortable you had ever been.

You decided to stay with them, but you did accompany the guys to leave the historical figures at their times, they ended up being your friends after all.

When you returned, Ted wanted to offer you to stay in his house, but he knew his dad wouldn´t allow it, so you stayed with Bill instead. You saw Ted all the time though, and when they discovered that you could sing they immediately asked you to join their band and be the lead singer. You couldn´t say no to Ted´s beautiful face, so you agreed, and of course their love for music was contagious and you were loving every new song they showed you. Rufus then confirmed you were a part of the band in the future, and so, that´s how your life in a different time began, and you couldn´t love it more.

[selineram3421]

Camilo X Reader: Tears

XVI

{ XII , XIII , XIV, XV }

Summary: You become good friends with Diego and learn more about him.

~

"You're going on a date!?", Mirabel says loudly.

"No!", you whisper shout. "It's not a date. I'm just hanging out with Diego, that's it."

Both of you were in the nursery, talking about what you and her planned to do today.

"It sounds like a date~", she says and nudges your shoulder.

You roll your eyes and go to deny it when Pepa slams open the door.

"You're going on a date! Oh, I'm so excited! We have to get you looking absolutely perfect mi pequeño.", the red haired woman says, coming over and squishing your cheeks.

"Um?", you whisper quietly, looking at your friend for help.

"Don't worry, Dolores told me. Now-", she begins listing off the things that you'll need to do to prepare for a date.

Camilo walks past the nursery, pausing in his step and walks backwards a bit, peaking into the room after seeing his mom from the corner of his eye.

"Uh.. Tía Pepa?", his cousin tries to get his mother's attention but she's still going on about how to dress.

Dress up for what? The curly haired teen wonders, leaning on the wall and listens in.

"Who is it? Hm?", his mother asks. "Did they ask you or did you ask them?", she continues.

He hears a quiet groan come from Y/n, imagining that they are covering their face.

"Its not a date..", they mumble.

That peaks his interest.

After escaping Pepa leaving Casita, you made your way over to meet up at the spot that Diego asked. Thanks to the two females teasing you about it being a date, your thoughts are piling up with questions but you shut it down once you've reached the meet up point.

"Hey Y/n!", the dark haired teen waves once he sees you.

Like you planned, you have fun and learn about your new friend. He talks about his hobbies and about the haberdasher he works at. You use your sketchbook to communicate and sometimes show your drawings. There's a feeling that you're being followed, but every time you check there's no one acting suspicious.

"There's this guy that always comes to the shop almost every day.", the teen says shyly.

You lift up a note that says for him to continue and he does so with a blush across his face. Telling you about some days where the guy, who you now knew as Eduardo, would come into the shop for yarn for his grandmother, or to have his clothes fixed (which happens a lot), and sometimes buying random buttons.

I think he likes you. You write down and show him the note.

Diego opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying to find the words but ends up hiding his flushed face.

You let a small laugh slip out.

He lifts up his face and gasps. "You laughed!"

Nope. You deny and hold back a smirk.

"Nu-uh! You can't lie to me! You totally laughed! I thought you could only make a few sounds.", the hazel eyed teen says.

After a while, you wave goodbye to your new friend and make your way back to Casita, knowing Mirabel would want to know everything. The doors open as soon as you come up, ushering you inside. Not even a second later, you're twirled around and faced with a grinning girl with short curly hair.

"Tell me everything!", she says and tugs you over to the kitchen.

"It wasn't a date!", you groan.

Telling her how the hangout went, both of you failed to check and see if the kitchen was empty.

Camilo was crouched down on the other side of the counter, quietly eating the arepas that he snuck from his tía and listened in to the conversation.

He made a face at one point. They were telling his cousin that Diego told them about the crush.

No one would tell a crush that early. The curly haired teen took another bite from his arepa. Something's off.

~

Haberdasher: I'm using the UK version, where they sell fabrics, yarn, and other sewing needs. Also fix clothes.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@mayuhiideyo135 @elegantkidfansoul @sunnth @sweettooth-simps @xdyledz @miwtycloud @yoshiiizy @lolalee24 @camilolovesroxiie @duckymomo002

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [99]

xv. the dying of the light 

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: language, mentions of blood, angst, Cadogan is a piece of shit, anxiety, fighting, death, just some very sad, very heavy stuff.

Summary: bellamy is gone, gabriel is gone, and now madi has disappeared. desperation rises as you all race to save madi before she too is taken from you.

a/n: sorry, but my brain is struggling to process that this is number 99!!!!! i swear i just posted episode 1 like last week? how is this possible? the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

The first thing you realize is that Miller saved all of your lives with his quick thinking. You turn and meet his gaze, grateful that he was fast enough to get the bomb behind one of the solid doors. “Thank you.”

He nods in acknowledgment, before another soft rumble settles through the room, and the door the bomb is behind starts to groan softly. Which brings you to the second realization, that in saving all of your lives, Miller possibly doomed the others. Because the door he threw the bomb behind is the door that leads to the rest of the bunker. It’s the door that leads to the stone, in the rec room with Jackson, Murphy, Emori, and Raven. 

Miller immediately pries the door in question off the hinges with one of the spears from the arena, revealing a doorway of stacked concrete, confirming what you already knew. The others are trapped down below, and the rest of you are trapped up here. You have access to the outside, but no way to reach the stone or the rest of your friends. You turn to look at Clarke, seeking out her counsel, despite still being angry with her. She gives you a desperate look, before a look of realization passes over her face. “We can still get to Madi.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial, three blue pills inside. You recognize them immediately as nano trackers, likely brought over by Sheidheda, the same ones Cadogan used to leave the bunker. Clarke unscrews the bottle and immediately dumps one out, preparing to swallow it, but Gaia closes the space between them and stops her hand from dropping the pill into her mouth. “Clarke, we have to think this through.”

“Gaia's right. Only the second pill’s for me.” Clarke looks over at you in surprise, not expecting you to take her side after what she did. But she killed Bellamy to protect Madi, and if something happens to Madi, then Bellamy and Gabriel died for nothing. All of it was for nothing. You refuse to let their deaths be in vain, which is why you hold your hand out for one of the pills, and Clarke quickly passes one to you. Behind you, Octavia speaks up, moving closer to you and Clarke. “We're gonna need an inside man.”

You both understand her statement for what it is: an offer to go with the two of you, so Clarke hands Octavia the third and final pill. All of you swallow them, one after the next, Octavia the last to do so, and you stand staring at each other, waiting to instantly disappear the way that Cadogan did. 

Except, you don’t.

The three of you stay firmly in place, looking at each other in absolute confusion. “Cadogan disappeared right away.”

“Why isn't this working?”

Hope answers you and Clarke both, shrugging a little as she does. “Maybe somebody has to be waiting in Bardo to pull you through.”

A strange look passes over Clarke’s face, half anger, half amusement, before settling into one of determination. She crosses the room in three strides, stopping at the door to the rest of the bunker, clamping her hands down on the first piece of stone she sees. She pulls, letting out a cry of effort as she does, the concrete moving nowhere. She tries again, her hands slipping off the stone, likely scratching her the way they did when the two of you tried to dig to this very same bunker, and you shake your head before moving towards her. “Clarke.”

She doesn’t turn around, determinedly yanking at the stones and sliding off them, making no progress, going nowhere, but still trying nonetheless. “We have to get to Madi! Cadogan could be digging into her brain right now.”

You reach out for her, grabbing her arm and spinning her towards you. “Clarke! We spent days trying to dig our way to the bunker before we nearly died in that collapse, and this is no different. You’re gonna dislodge a stone and get yourself killed if you keep this up, and you’re no use to Madi if you’re dead.”

She sets her jaw, and you think she’s about to start a fight with you before her eyes drop and her gaze softens. “Your shoulder.”

You peer down at your shoulder and the blood staining your shirt, the wound from Sheidheda still bleeding, the pain forgotten to you in the chaos of everything that’s happened since then. “It’s nothing.”

You try to shrug her off, stepping away from her, not wanting her comfort or her help, but she reaches out to grab your arm, her hand closing around one of the cuts on your forearm. She can feel the wetness on her hand as soon as she grabs you, and she immediately lets go of you and looks at you in alarm. “La lune!”

She grabs your hand and turns your arm over, eyes scanning the cuts on both of your forearms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I honestly can't feel it. Adrenaline and all that.”

“Come here.” She tries to pull you to the side, and you don’t budge at first, but she gives you one of those looks that lets you know this is not negotiable, because your own words apply to you in this moment. You’re no good to Madi dead, and bleeding to death because you’re mad at Clarke is not the way to go. So when she tugs you to the side a second time, you let her, and she motions for you to sit across from her as she tears strips of cloth from the bottom of her shirt. The tension between the two of you temporarily melts away as she ties makeshift bandages around your forearms and shoulder, your access to real bandages nonexistent. You sit quietly as she fixes you up the best she can, before she finally breaks the silence to whisper, “I’m sorry about Bellamy, I swear I am. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to, to protect Madi. You can hate me forever, la lune, I’ll understand.”

You sit in silence for a second, weighing her words, and you can tell from the anguish in her voice that she means it. But that doesn't erase all of your feelings instantly, as much as you wish it did. You wish you could erase the hurt and the grief and the anger, but you can’t. It’s still raw and open, weighing on you at every moment. “Clarke, you’re my shining star. You’re a part of me. I understand why you did what you did, and I understand why you feel like it was the only choice. But that doesn't change the fact that Bellamy is dead and you pulled the trigger. I don't hate you, I don't think I ever could, but I don't forgive you either, at least not yet. Hopefully one day I’ll forgive you and we can move past this, but right now, I'm too damn hurt and angry.”

She nods her head, looking up at you with tears in her eyes. “I understand. If it helps, I regret it. I don't think I’d do it again, especially if I knew that Madi was just gonna turn herself in despite everything.”

You say nothing for a long second, your voice a soft whisper, cracking with emotion when you say, “I just wish I could have said goodbye. I gave him back the ring, you know, and he died thinking I didn't love him, but I do. I love him with my whole heart, my entire being. He’s my soulmate, and he died thinking that I hate him.”

You feel your bottom lip quiver before tears start to spill down your face, and you see tears in Clarke’s eyes before she pulls you in for a hug, holding you as you cry for Bellamy. And in this moment, you allow yourself to forget what happened to him, focusing only on the fact that he’s gone. You allow your twin to comfort you, hold you close, softly humming Clair de lune in your ear until you start to calm down again. And even after the two of you break apart, you stay side by side, unable to leave each other’s side, even now, when everything between you is tense and weird.

Indra is the first to break the silence and tension hanging over the room. “We should discuss the plan. Clarke, la lune, and Octavia bring us over. We get Madi and kill their leader.”

Gaia jumps down from the perch she was on, walking towards her mother. “Killing Cadogan won't change anything.”

“He can't chase us if he's dead.”

She shakes her head at Indra trying to get her to understand. “You've seen faith, Mother. You kill the Commander, another takes her place. You kill the Fleimkepa, another takes his place. Faith doesn't just die, it gets carried forward. Cadogan's people are no different.”

Miller asks the question that you’re all beginning to wonder. “Then how does this end?”

“Bellamy asked that question, too.” You all look towards Octavia, the mood sobering even further at the mention of Bellamy. “One Last War, and then we transcend and we become the light.”

Across the room, Jordan breaks his silence. “It's a beautiful idea, but fighting is not how we get there. War is a failure of everything. Which is why it's a test, not a war.”

“Test, war, test, war. The disciples have been studying the Bardo texts for over 1,000 years. You really think you know better?”

Jordan turns to Hope, answering her question with complete confidence. “Yes. And it's not just that I read some old books, I felt it. That red sun toxin showed me something. I couldn't figure it out, but I knew it was important, and then I read the Bardo texts, and it hit me... the next step in human evolution.”

You can feel Clarke going more restless with each passing second, until she abruptly stands and snaps, “Nonsense.”

Everyone turns to face her after the outburst, but she avoids everyone’s eyes as she stalks up the ramp towards the exit. “All that matters now is saving Madi and killing Cadogan. There's no Last War or test. Bellamy's dead because he believed that crap, and I've heard enough!”

You look after her retreating figure, wondering if you should go after her. Everything between the two of you is weird, and your anger is telling you to stay, bristling at the casual way she mentioned Bellamy’s death. But your softer side, the part of you that’s connected to her, it’s telling you to go after her, comfort her, despite what she did. Gaia seems to sense your conflict, because she steps towards you with a smile and whispers, “I got it.”

You nod in thanks, relieved that you don’t have to decide, before sitting back down and beginning the excruciating process of waiting once more. You’re quickly realizing that there’s nothing you hate more than waiting: waiting to fight, waiting to escape, waiting to die. Because waiting is usually silent, and that silence easily morphs into your regrets, and fears, and worries. It’s when you think about everything you've done wrong and everything you haven't yet gotten the chance to do. There’s time to think of who you’ve killed and who you’ve lost, which opens up the door to the painful memories that usually stay locked deep in your brain, in that place you try to keep hidden from everyone, including yourself. 

Waiting is suffocating, and in the time you’ve spent on Earth, Sanctum, Skyring, and Bardo, you’ve already done too much of it. 

You stand, starting to pace around the rotunda, the way Bellamy used to pace when he first got back from space. The same habit he turned to when he had to wait. And as your feet move you around the room in continuous circles, you start to understand. It’s rhythmic, the way your feet carry you across the floor, boots thudding softly against the metal, and each time you walk past Hope, the thuds stutter, your footsteps softened by an uneven spot on the floor. 

As you pace around the room, you force your mind to stay on the safe topics. The ones that don't involve painful memories or the ghosts that seem to stalk you. Instead, you keep things light, reciting constellations and medicinal plants, anything to keep your mind occupied. A few times you slip up, your thoughts drifting to what Bellamy was thinking in his final moments, as he bled out on Sanctum alone. You start to worry about Madi and what she’s going through without you, cursing yourself for not getting to her sooner and stopping her from leaving. You think about Gabriel and his final words to you, what they meant... You shake your head, clearing the spiral of memories and grief, shifting back to your safe topics, ignoring the thoughts that are begging to pull you down.

You only pause your pacing once, when Clarke and Gaia come out of the decontamination room and take up a spot on the ramp, sitting across from each other cross legged, Gaia talking to your twin softly. You resume your pacing, glancing at them every few minutes, realizing that Gaia must be teaching Clarke to calm her mind the way she taught Madi to. 

But Clarke’s peace is short lived, and within minutes she’s standing, her voice rising as she glares down at Gaia. “How do you expect me to focus right now when my daughter is out there, probably being tortured right now?”

“You think I don't know that?” Gaia stands abruptly, and you pause your pacing to watch them. She gives Clarke an anguished look, her voice dropping slightly when she adds, “I love her too, Clarke.”

A look of sympathy passes over Clarke’s face before she reaches out and pulls the former Flamekeeper into a hug. “I know, I know, I'm sorry.”

You’re about to start pacing again, the conflict seemingly resolved, when you catch a glimpse of green around Clarke. She pulls away from Gaia, her hands starting to disappear, and she turns to look at you with a smile. “It's working.”

Clarke disappears in a haze of emerald, leaving you to turn and look at Octavia, “I’m next.”

Miller yells out to you, “La lune, catch!”

You turn towards him, catching the pistol he tosses your way, seconds before you too fade away from the bunker. All around you, the world is green, bright and hazy, until it fades into a darker hue. It takes a second for you to realize that you’re not in the Stone Room, but in the oxygen farm, surrounded by an army of disciples, all of them pointing weapons right at you and Clarke. You raise the pistol that Miller tossed to you, you and Clarke aiming back at the disciples, and Octavia appears a second later, instantly lifting her rifle.

A disciple near the font of the armed group looks towards you and loudly yells, “Drop your weapons! Hands in the air!”

Octavia drops her weapon first, lifting her hands in surrender, and you and Clarke exchange a look before you both follow suit. Despite not wanting to surrender to the disciples, you both know you have no choice, and if you choose to take a stand here, it will only result in the three of you ending up dead. So you both drop your weapons and lift your hands in the air, following the commands of the disciples as they close in on you. The three of you are restrained and led past the waiting army, through the oxygen farm and the halls of Bardo until you’re delivered to a cell.

They release all three of you in one room, and you stand there for a minute, stunned by what just happened. “Why did we show up in the oxygen farm?”

Clarke shakes her head, “I don't know. But they’re preparing for a war, which means they have Madi and she’s in trouble.”

She plops down onto the nearest bed in frustration, dropping her head into her hands before she starts to softly cry. Octavia sits down beside her, offering her comfort, the moment soon overshadowed by someone singing. And not just someone, Sheidheda. He sings the Grounder Anthem, “Take a Life With Me”, over and over on a loop, until there is no sadness left in your prison cell, only frustration. 

You take up pacing again as nothing you do drowns out the awful, annoying sound, which continues repeatedly, until you’re sure you’re about to lose your mind. You can sense Clarke growing tense too, her body starting to fidget more and more until she finally yells out, “Shut up!”

But Sheidheda doesn't shut up, he just keeps singing without a care in the world. Clarke looks at you with worry and frustration, her eyes wide, her nerves frazzled. “We did all that just to end up back here, locked up in a cell next to Sheidheda.”

“We'll get Madi back.” You don’t say anything beyond that, your anger at her now back in full force now that you’re back in Bardo, but you do let out a sigh, frustrated that your emotions are so all over the place. You wonder what Anders would say about you now, watching you pace the room like a caged animal, angry and frustrated and ready to destroy Bardo if you have to.

You’re pulled back to the present by Clarke sighing loudly, looking doubtful about your assurance of finding Madi, which Octavia notices. She puts a hand on Clarke’s knee, whose gaze shifts over to the younger Blake. “Think about it: someone brought us here. That means we have help on the inside, it's just a matter of time.”

Clarke nods, contemplating her words, realizing the truth to them, and she’s quiet for a moment before whispering, “Thank you.”

Something about her tone makes you pause, and you stop in front of her as Clarke’s gaze shifts between you and Octavia. “Both of you. Thank you for offering to come.”

Octavia answers first, “I told you I get it now, what she means to you. It's what Hope means to me.”

“It's what we meant to Bellamy.” Clarke and Octavia look towards you, the mood dampening the way it does when you all remember that Bellamy is gone, for real this time. You’re surprised you even said it, and you have to fight against the tears that are threatening to rise, glancing between the two women you call sister. “We were everything to him.”

Octavia whispers, “That's how I'll remember him.”

Clarke reaches out to grab your hand and you let her, before she reaches for Octavia’s hand too, the three of you sitting together as a small human chain, mourning the loss of Bellamy. And as the three of you mourn, tears streaming down your faces, the door to your cell opens. Clarke and Octavia stand beside you and turn to see Levitt hovering near the entrance, smiling at Octavia. She moves towards him, and as the pair hugs, you get a flash of disappointment. Part of you hoped that it would be Bellamy here to save you, despite seeing his body bleeding out on the palace floor in Sanctum. Something you remind yourself of as Clarke mutters, “Hate to interrupt, but we need to get to Madi. What’s the plan?”

Levitt and Octavia pull apart, and he looks between the three of you, growing anxious. “I don't know. Isn't this your guys' specialty? How would you do it?”

Octavia thinks for a second and then says, “Use the suits, go invisible.”

“No, that won't work. Too many disciples with helmets around.”

Clarke shrugs, “Then we come in hot, and we take them all out.”

You shake your head, instantly disagreeing. If the disciples are preparing for a war, then Clarke’s right. Madi is in danger now. You have no doubt that you, Clarke, and Octavia could come in and take the disciples out with ease, but how long will that give you? Five minutes? Ten? It’s loud and it’s messy, and it’ll put a target on your backs. You need a distraction, something to pull the disciples away from M-Cap, giving the four of you time to find Madi and get her to safety. You search your brain for a different plan, struggling to come up with anything, thanks to Sheidheda’s obnoxious singing. 

And that’s when it comes to you. 

You look between the three of them, smiling, pointing to the room next door. “Or we create a distraction.”

Realization passes over each of their faces, and you know you’re all on the same page. “Good idea.” 

Levitt heads to the door of your cell and reaches for a bag that he left behind, tossing each of you a gun before leading you from your room and to the next cell over. He quickly pulls the door scanner from the wall, attaching a few wires to a tablet from his bag and typing in a code. He removes the tablet and tucks it away before reattaching the scanner and pushing the button. The door to Sheidheda’s cell slides open, and you, Clarke, and Octavia go in weapons hot, aiming directly at the man in the room. He stops singing when he hears your entrance, turning slowly to look at the three of you glaring in anger, Levitt waiting just behind you. “Well, since no one's shooting, I suppose that means you need me.”

He laughs a little and stands to his feet, musing, “What would Madi think?”

Clarke lowers her gun and lunges at him, intending to hit him, but you reach out and grab her arm to stop her. “Clarke!”

Sheidheda laughs, looking you over, taking in your bandages and the blood that’s still on your face, a mix of Gabriel’s and your own. “I got the doctor good, didn't I? Tell me, did he make it?”

And this time, it’s your turn to lunge, dropping Clarke’s arm and reaching for the man, seeing only red, your anger raw with grief. But Octavia grabs you, pulling you back, yelling out, “That’s enough, all of you! We need to stop Cadogan.”

You take a breath, calming yourself, aware that you need the man in front of you to save your niece and stop Cadogan from winning. Which means, for now, you’ll play alongside him. But if he makes it out of here and you get the chance, you’ll kill him for what he did to Gabriel and Madi. 

Sheidheda shrugs at Octavia’s words, growling a little, “I tried, and for my troubles, they locked me up here.”

Clarke doesn't care, blowing past his complaint to snap, “Here's the deal. I'd love to kill you, but you're right, we need you. We set you loose, and you draw the disciples away from M-Cap.”

“I'm not some petty distraction. I'm the high king of Sanctum.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, Your Highness. Then we walk out of here and lock the door behind us.”

He sneers at you, giving you an annoyed smile. “Hmm, distraction it is.”

You motion towards the door with your gun. “Then let’s go.”

Levitt leads the way to M-Cap, the rest of you keeping your guns trained on Sheidheda, but you stop when you reach the last few hallways to your destination. You can hear people nearby, likely standing guard or prepping for the war, and you motion towards Sheidheda as you all duck out of sight. He smiles before he steps away, and you can hear the moment he catches sight of the disciples. “Attention, sheep. I'm here to kill your Shepherd.”

You can hear one of the guards yelling commands, followed immediately by the sounds of fighting. Gunshots ring out in the air, accented by screams of pain, but you all stay hidden in a nearby corridor until the sounds grow fainter and fainter, Sheidheda clearing the halls ahead of you. Once you hear no more fighting, you tentatively slip from your hiding spot and walk down the hall, rounding the corner to find blood splashed along the walls and dead bodies scattered everywhere. You shake your head at the violent scene in front of you, thinking that surely Sheidheda didn’t need to be so brutal. Still, he got the job done, because there’s no one in sight to stop your approach.

Unfortunately, there is also no sign of Sheidheda. “He's not here?”

Clarke turns to look back at Octavia. “We knew that was a possibility, we'll deal with Sheidheda later.”

Levitt looks around at the bodies littering the floor, carefully stepping around dark red puddles of blood, his voice horrified when he whispers, “I grew up with these people.”

“That's war, Levitt.” Octavia turns to glance at him, offering him no sympathy for the horror he’s experiencing. “It looks exciting in hologram mode, but this is the reality.”

Clarke shakes her head, grabbing a few grenades as she walks past the bodies, barely glancing back at the couple as she continues on her way. “Come on. Right now, all that matters is getting to Madi.”

You all follow her down the halls towards M-Cap, your guns raised, ready for a fight with each new hallway you turn down. But you find no one, this section of Bardo completely empty, everyone gone in pursuit of Sheidheda. “Looks like our diversion worked.”

As you reach the door to M-Cap, Clarke nods towards it. “Levitt, you go in first. They won't see you as a threat.”

He nods, and Octavia quickly pushes the button to the room, and as the door slides open, you all get into position and step inside behind Levitt. The first thing you notice is that someone is humming, the tune comforting and familiar. The second thing you notice is Madi, sprawled out in the M-Cap chair, someone’s arms around her. And when that someone looks up, you swear you’re dreaming. 

Because it looks like Bellamy.

“Bellamy?” You freeze in place, the gun in your hand clattering to the floor as you stare at him in shock. He looks up at all of you, his expression surprised, clearly not expecting to see you here. He’s out of the white robes and into a white top and bottom combo, the same thing that Gabriel used to wear, and you’re relieved to see no blood on his clothes. He looks a little tired, and his curly hair is unruly, flopped all over the place, but he looks fine. Healthy even, no sign that he was recently dead. 

Clarke seemingly breezes past the fact that Bellamy is alive and well, her gaze solely focused on Madi, and he releases his hold on her to allow Clarke the room to take over. He stands, looking at you closely, his expression blank for a moment, and you worry that he’s even more brainwashed than the last time you saw him. But then his expression morphs into one of relief, and he steps around the M-Cap chair to walk towards you. “La lune.”

His voice is warm and thick with affection and emotion, and you start to run towards him, tears welling up in your eyes as he jogs towards you. He meets you halfway across the room, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you once, before putting your feet firmly back on the ground, his arms holding you tight. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, and you can hear him crying as he whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I should have never betrayed you. I should’ve listened to you.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You pull away to look at him, tears running down his face and your own, and you whisper, “I love you. Oh my god, I love you, and I'm sorry I left you. I didn't want to, but-”

He cuts you off, “No, you were right to leave me. And you were right about Cadogan.”

It’s like the words remind him of something, and he turns to look at the others. “Levitt, something is wrong with Madi. Cadogan did something to her.”

You all turn to look at him in shock. “What?”

Levitt immediately crosses the room to grab the glasses that the disciples use for M-Cap, and for the first time since grabbing her, Clarke pulls away from Madi, realizing that Bellamy’s right, something is wrong with her. You miss the reunion between the Blake siblings as you rush over to your niece, though you can hear them quietly talking behind you. You look down at Madi in horror, catching onto what Bellamy meant. Madi’s eyes are open, but her expression and her eyes are blank, no sign of recognition in either of them. Her heartbeat is strong, but her body is limp, moving only when one of you moves her. 

Clarke looks at you with tears in her eyes, and you feel tears in your own, both of you starting to cry as Clarke turns her teary expression back to Madi. “Madi, look at me. Say something. Please say something.”

Madi remains frozen, and Clarke lets out a panicked yell, “Say something!”

But still, Madi doesn't move, and Clarke pulls her into her arms, holding her tight as she sobs, rocking her back and forth, “Oh, my baby. My baby. My baby.”

You start to cry harder, not wanting to hear or see Clarke’s heartbreak, not wanting to see Madi’s blank expression, but you can't look away. You don't look away when you feel Bellamy slide up beside you, slipping his hand into your own, you don't look away when you hear Octavia and Levitt talking quietly behind you. You keep your eyes on your little sun and your shining star, unable to do anything other than cry at the scene before you. 

Clarke lays Madi back down, before turning her teary face back to you, her eyes landing on Bellamy in the process.  You see surprise pass over her face, meaning she really didn't register his presence when you all stepped into the room. But her surprise turns to anger as she glares at him, “What happened? What did he do to her?”

Bellamy shakes his head, looking just as upset as the rest of you, tears streaming down his face too. “I don’t know. When I heard she was here, I came looking for her immediately. She was like this when I found her. Cadogan was already gone.”

“You said you’d keep her safe!”

Bellamy stutters a little, his voice thick with emotion. “I tried, Clarke, but I woke up in a hospital bed. I left as soon as I heard she was here, but it must have been hours after her arrival by that point.”

Clarke’s expression turns horrified as she takes in the weight of his words. He got to her as soon as he could to try to help her. But the reason it took him so long to reach her is because he was in a hospital bed. Put there by Clarke. You reach out for her, squeezing her shoulder to stop her train of thought. “Hey, hey, hey, this is not your fault. This is Cadogan’s fault.”

Bellamy whispers, “You couldn't have known.”

And though he doesn't outright say it, you know that his words are forgiveness. Bellamy offers his forgiveness to Clarke for shooting him, her anguish over Madi punishment enough. He offers her the olive branch, and it’s up to her to take it. Thankfully, she does, looking at Bellamy with genuine regret. “I shouldn't have shot you, Bellamy. I panicked, and didn't know what to do.”

“No, you were right to. I don't blame you for shooting me, it was part of a wake up call for me. La lune giving me back her ring, you shooting me, finding Madi like this, they all woke me up to the truth about Cadogan: he’s a monster. A psychopath obsessed with being worshipped, just like he was on Earth.”

And everything is simultaneously okay and not okay, because the confession is big, but none of you get the time to respond to it, because Octavia steps up beside Clarke, looking between all of you. “She can hear you. She knows you're here.”

Clarke nods and turns back towards Madi, trying to hide her tears as she smiles. “Hey, baby, I'm here. I'm right here.”

You lean down into Madi’s line of sight, doing the same to mask your hurt as you whisper, “Hey there, little sun. Ani’s here too.”

Clarke turns to face Levitt, who’s still standing off to the side. “Is it recoverable?”

“What? I-” The question catches him off guard, not sure if he should answer, but after a second, he solemnly shakes his head. “No. The areas of her brain responsible for voluntary movement have been destroyed. I'm sorry.”

The words make all of you start to cry harder, now faced with the reality that Cadogan has paralyzed Madi permanently in the pursuit of transcendence. It's enough to make you sick to your stomach. But that feeling only intensifies as Clarke glances off to the side, where her discarded pistol now lays, and after a moment of thought, she leans down to get it. You know exactly what she’s thinking because you know her better than she knows herself, and you shake your head, your voice soft and firm. “Clarke, no.”

She starts to cry harder, her hands shakily lifting the gun, determined to do what she thinks is right for Madi. But the sight breaks your heart, as Clarke can barely hold the gun steady, too overcome with emotion. Your twin that has bore it so the rest of you don't have to is breaking, and you know you need to be there for her. Which is why you drop Bellamy’s hand and reach out for the gun. “I’ll do it.”

She looks at you, expression heartbroken but hopeful, and you whisper, “I'm not letting you live with this.”

She nods a little, passing you the gun, which you take with now shaky hands. Clarke reaches out for Madi, putting a hand on either side of her face as she whispers, “I love you so much. Don't be scared, just listen to my voice, okay?”

And just like Bellamy was doing before all of you arrived, she starts to hum Clair de lune, ducking her head beside Madi’s so she can't see her tears. You lift the gun with a shaky hand, your own tears blurring your vision, aiming the pistol at her chest. But as you stare down at the blank expression of your little sun, you don't think you can do it, the burden too great for any of you to bear. You start to cry harder, a sob escaping from your chest, and Clarke looks over at you, nodding a little, letting you know that it’s okay, it’s time. 

But you can’t. You stare down at Madi’s face, reminded of the girl that couldn't speak English when you met her, who caught Clarke with a bear trap. The little girl you taught how to drive, how to fight. The girl who inspired an army to fight for Shallow Valley. You shake your head a little, unable to do it, your hand starting to lower again. But then Bellamy reaches out and closes his hand over your own. You look back at him, and he looks at you, tears falling down his face as he whispers, “Together.”

You nod, and the two of you turn to face Madi, lifting the gun to aim right over her heart. And as your finger lifts to the trigger, Bellamy’s finger poised over your own, ready to help you, you whisper, “I love you, little sun.”

But before the two of you can pull the trigger, Levitt suddenly calls out, “No, he got the code!”

You pause and you all turn towards him in shock, and he catches sight of the gun in your hand, suddenly apologetic. “Oh, God. Oh, I'm sorry.”

Octavia asks, “The test code? Are you sure?”

“Hologram mode.”

He enlarges the memory so you can all see, watching as Becca’s fingers press the symbols on the Anomaly Stone, the room glowing in white before the memory ends. Clarke shifts her gaze from the memory down to Madi, her heartbreak giving way to hard anger. “He got what he needed and left her here?”

The words hit all of you right in the chest. This man that is so determined to transcend, to prove that humans are worthy, paralyzed a child to do it, and then left her alone. Bellamy was right when he called Cadogan a monster, and you can feel Wanlida smiling as she steps into view. “We have to stop him.”

Octavia starts, “If one man represents the entire human race-”

Bellamy finishes, “It can't be him.”

Levitt nods, looking between all of you. “We can still stop him, but we have to go now.”

Everyone seems to silently agree, and you and Clarke turn back to Madi. Clarke puts her hand on Madi’s cheek, and you reach out to squeeze Madi’s hand. Clarke whispers, “I'll come back. I'll be back after we stop the test, and I promise I will not let him win.”

She presses a kiss to Madi’s forehead, and leans back so you can add, “We’re going to stop him, Madi, and we’re going to fix this. I promise. Bill Cadogan thinks he’s unstoppable, but he’s never met Wanheda and Wanlida.”

-

next chapter

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter 19 - Embry Call x Reader

Please Wake Up

Embry’s POV

I looked at (Y/N)’s seemingly lifeless body. Though I still heard her heart beating, it was slower; it was quieter. It had been ever since the day she was bit-- almost three days ago now. 

Leah, Paul, Quil, Jacob, and I haven’t left her side since it happened. She’s currently in a hospital bed in the Cullen household. Carlisle stopped in every once in a while, just to take notes of what was happening. 

All of our eyes red and puffy, waiting for her to wake up. Waiting was agonizing, one of the Cullens coming in every once in a while to give us food, though eating was very difficult for me to do. I tried to force myself, but my appetite was scarce. Everyone else was similar, we all were having a difficult time waiting. None of us leaving her side since we got here. 

We were quickly approaching the three day mark. It was currently 76 hours into the possible transition, the sun would be rising soon. Carlisle’s soft footsteps brought me out of the trance I was in, Alice was following closely behind him with some stuff to clean (Y/N) up some more, she had already changed her clothes the other day. 

“Why won’t she wake up if you got the venom out?” I ask, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. 

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like this happen.” 

“But you got the venom out, right?” Leah interjects. 

“Yes, but barely in time. The transformation had already begun by the time we got to her and managed to get it out.” 

“So what does that mean exactly?” I ask, concern threading my voice. 

“I’m unsure, unfortunately.” Carlisle’s face softens at me, knowing that this is killing me, it’s killing us all. 

“So will it work?” Paul asks, his voice cracking as tears brimmed his eyes. 

“I thought so, but the fact that she still hasn’t woken up yet is making me question it.”  

“Well you can see the future, so what’s hers looking like?” Jacob asks, looking at Alice. 

“I… I can’t see her future anymore.” She confessed, eyes looking sympathetically back at all of us, it was like the air was sucked out of the room-- everyone’s breath hitched in their throat.  

“What?” Paul asked, a tear falling from his eyes. 

My eyes found (Y/N)’s body once again, my hand still holding hers tightly. She was colder than she always was-- but not cold like someone who was dead. I felt like someone had just reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. It’s not possible, it couldn’t be… My little bean had to be okay. My mouth instinctively fell open at Alice’s confession, tears rapidly falling from my eyes. I couldn’t breathe.

“She’s not dead, she can’t be dead. Right?” Jacob asked, raising his voice. 

“No, she still has a pulse. We can all hear it.” Carlisle assures him.

“So she’s still stuck in this weird limbo?” Quil inquires. 

“It appears to be so. I’ve never seen one like this, though.” Carlisle sighs. 

“She better not wake up a vampire.” Jacob mumbles. 

“I don’t know what will happen. I have blood bags, just in case.” 

“Let’s hope she doesn’t need them.” Leah asserts. 

I was at a loss of words, I couldn’t even believe what I was hearing. My (Y/N), my sweet (Y/N) was possibly going to become a vampire. The thought of it left me shuddering, though it beat the alternative. Losing her forever, especially so young. As long as we were phasing, we were not aging. I knew that was one of her concerns, but the idea was that I would eventually stop phasing, but staying behind her in age. Maybe us having an eternity together wasn’t the end of the world-- I just didn’t want it to be like this. 

“Her temperature is moderate, a little colder than when she was human, but nowhere near what we’re at. Her skin isn’t stone like ours, but it isn’t human-like anymore. It’s almost like your human forms.Much more resilient than any human’s.” 

“So she’s in the process of changing, it’s maybe just starting?” Quil wonders. 

“No, if it was like that, this is stuff that would’ve happened earlier. This is all so late for these things to be happening. The three days is pretty much coming to an end.” Carlisle answers, flipping through the notes he had been keeping of (Y/N)’s transformation. 

“If she’s taking the same amount of time for the transition, maybe we should be assuming that she’ll wake up a vampire of sorts.” Quil speculates. 

“It’s definitely possible.” Carlisle nods, looking around at all of our faces before he and Alice leave the room. 

Now it was just time to wait. I look around and observe the distress painted across my friends’ faces. Only time will tell, I guess.

(Y/N)’s POV

I begin to wake up from my sleep-like state, almost feeling… weightless. I felt stronger than I ever have. I blink my eyes profusely, adjusting to the lighting around me. 

Everything was much clearer than before, I could see more detail than ever before. I could hear the sounds of nature outside, seemingly an owl hooting. I could smell so much more, both the Cullens and the pack’s scent invaded my senses, I was surprised to understand what everyone meant. 

My eyes widen when I come to the realization of what this meant. The sudden fear of everyone I loved beginning to hate me, the fact that I would have to fake my death for my poor father. The reality of the situation dawned on me. I very quickly fell into a panic, only a mere few seconds of my exciting new abilities. 

I look around the room and take in everyone’s somber, zombie-like states. Embry’s hand holding mine. I sit up and look at all of them. 

“Carlisle! She’s up!” Jacob shouts out.

Nobody moved, everyone too afraid to see what I would do. 

“Embry…” I whispered. 

“Baby.” His warm hands move to my face. 

“Your eyes are still (Y/E/C).” He whispered breathlessly. 

“What?” I ask, surprised at why they weren’t red. 

I quickly get up, running over to the mirror to look at myself. 

My skin color didn’t pale and grow ashy, my eyes were still the same. I didn’t look like the stereotypical newborn vampire. 

I felt much more durable, much more alive. I felt stronger, faster even. How was this possible?

Carlisle and Alice quickly enter the room and look directly at me in surprise, quite like everyone else. 

“(Y/N), do you feel any burning in your throat? Are you thirsty?” Carlisle questions. 

“Not really. I have a much stronger urge in my stomach than my throat. I don’t have the urge to tear into any of them.” I admit. 

He observes all the physical appearances that didn’t take to me, like the eyes or skin color change. He made me test both appetites, to see which I can handle. 

“You barely made it, the transformation almost completely took. I guess we pulled it right before it finished-- leaving you as a very unique hybrid. You could survive off of regular food or blood. You’re must faster, stronger. You’re quite similar to their human forms.” Carlisle smiles softly. 

I look around, everyone’s faces glowing more with happiness and relief. 

Embry’s tearful face rushes over to mine, pressing a happy kiss to my lips. He picked me up, spinning me around. He laughed in happiness as he pressed his forehead against my own. I made my rounds, hugging all my friends who waited for me to wake up for the agonizing three days. 

“But, what does this mean for my mortality?” I ask Carlisle.

“I’m unsure. I don’t know.” He sighs.

“I can see your future again.” Alice smiles. 

“And?” Leah interrupts.

“Well, you’re going to be here for a long time. You’ll have an eternity.” She smiles.

We then make our way outside, testing all my new abilities and limits. I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. I wouldn’t have to fake my death for my father, we didn’t have to leave. I didn’t want to destroy the entire human population. I’d have to of course figure out what to do when the time comes and my dad notices that I wasn’t aging, but maybe he would just accept that I couldn’t give him an answer. Things were good. 

“I love you.” Embry whispers to me, pulling me in for a kiss.

“I love you, too.” I smile into the kiss. 

This was the beginning of forever for me. For Embry and I. For everyone I cared about. 

Being a part of this world was eye-opening. Things fell into place, things all made sense.

It came naturally.

Loving Embry was natural. 

And thankfully, I had an eternity to spend with him. 

______________________________ A/N: Thank you all for reading this to the end. I never expected so much support on this fic! You’ve all made me so happy when you comment on it or talk to me about this and I hope you enjoyed the ending. This story was a fun little thing :) 

I  II  III  IV  V  VI  VII  VIII  VIIII  X  XIR XIE  XII  XIII  XIV  XV XVI  XVII  XVIII  XIIII

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXIII

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

XXIII.

Alastair watched his sister play with her dolls on the rug in the sitting room from the second to last step on the landing. A safe distance away from the fire, her small voice filled the room with color that it sorely lacked. Since their father’s return from wherever it was he had been for the past year, their furniture (what furniture they had) started to disappear.

Cordelia, being only eight hardly noticed. Not when her father’s attention became more of a pressing matter, but Alastair being ten years old and having been the one to mind the estate after their staff stopped showing up and Sona fell into another one her deep depressions, he began to notice.

And he could only suspect one person responsible.

After being satisfied that Cordelia was out of ear range, Alastair turned and jogged up the stairs two at a time. He noted the sconces on the walls were missing along with the bulbs except for one left unprotected and obnoxiously bright without a cover. The rug that ran along the hallway was gone as well leaving the floor bare so that every footstep and noise could be heard. Alastair took a deep breath through his nose and steadied himself.

He’d secretly hoped that his mother would be the one to address the issue, but she hardly seemed to notice the missing things, or if she did, she didn’t feel the need to mention it. The house grew colder and colder by the minute despite his father's enormous presence to fill it.

A part of him chastised himself for not being more elated about his father’s return. The rest of his family members seemed to be, but because of his illusive absence for the past year with no explanation about where he’d gone and the stink of alcohol lingering on his vest, something deep in Alastair’s chest froze towards his father.

Others may be warmed by his false promises and elaborate stories, but he knew the truth. Call it a gift of his, he could see past the pretense his father shoveled in front of everyone to hide his sins.

When he reached the oak door at the end of the hall, with a shaking fist, he knocked.

At first no sound came, so he knocked again; louder this time.

A shuffle could be heard inside. Glass shattering against the floor followed by a string of cursing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, father,” said Alastair. “I need to speak with you.”

“What’s this about?”

Alastair placed a hand on the handle. “May I come in?”

“Is this important?”

“It is,” said Alastair lifting his jaw.

“Very well,” said his father.

Alastair turned the knob and pushed his way inside. The bitter, sweet smell of freshly spilt whiskey hit him and burned his eyes. He resisted the urge to cover his nose with a handkerchief.

His father wobbled on his hands and knees attempting to clean up a spill with his pocket cloth, but moving as if he were on a very unsteady ship. Red rimmed eyes looked up at Alastair and a grin curved around his father’s face.

“What is it?” He slurred as he fell backwards against the wingback chair that happened to be the only piece of furniture in the room beside the beverage cart sitting beside the window. “Am I late for supper?”

“It’s nearly noon, father,” said Alastair. “I’m here because it appears that our household items have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Elias squinted up at his son.

“Yes.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As in gone.”

“Like what?”

“My writing desk, Cordelia’s doll house,” said Alastair. “Mum’s good China, the Tehran crafted weapons, the silver, and where’s the furniture that used to be in this room?”

“Alastair—“

“If you’re pawning our household items to support your drinking then—“ It wasn’t a question of if, nor was it an accusation. Alastair knew the truth, he knew even if he didn’t want to believe it.

“Then what?” asked Elias. “Go on, boy, finish your sentence.”

“You’ll not take one more thing from this house,” said Alastair.

Elias scoffed and attempted to push himself up from the floor when his hand landed on a piece of glass. Elias hissed and fell backwards again onto the floor. “Bloody hell!” He held his hand up, dripping now with fresh blood. “Don’t just stand there. Get me something to stench this with.”

Alastair sighed and walked across the room to the beverage cart. A towel hung from the silver handle, stained with spilt alcohol, Alastair grabbed it and brought it over to his father.

“Where is your steele?” asked Elias as he ripped the towel from Alastair’s hand.

“I don’t have one with me,” said the boy.

“What kind of Shadowhunter doesn’t carry around his steele?”

“I’m nearly ten, father,” reminded Alastair. “I’m hardly a Shadowhunter yet. I can go find yours if you’d like.”

Elias took the towel away from his hand and examined the wound in his palm. “No, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve clearly more pressing matters to attend to. Have you spoken to your mother about these missing items?”

“I haven’t wanted to trouble her—“

“Only me?” asked Elias. “I suppose I deserve that.” He got slowly and unsteadily to his feet. When he stepped backwards a few steps, Alastair had to stop himself from reaching out towards him. He looked like a toddler learning to walk for the first time.

The question dangled on Alastair’s tongue as he watched his father pitch forward and back like an aged ship on angry seas: why did he insist on drinking? When did he become a drunk? Alastair, honestly, couldn’t remember. There’d been a time when sobriety found him for a few months and then he’d be back on the streets again. Alastair was seven years old the first time he picked him up from the porch steps when he passed out before he’d made it inside. The first time, he’d thought it kind of comical, by the third time that week, he found it frightening. And now, he wanted to ask his father why. Why weren’t they enough for him? What was his father chasing that could be found or forgotten at the bottom of a bottle?

Alastair feared he might never know.

     _ _ _

The pocket watch ticked inside Alastair’s palm where he sat on the sofa in the drawing room waiting for Cordelia and Lucie to enter through the door. It was five past three; the time they were supposed to return. Questionably, James hadn’t returned either. Alastair knew he should have trusted his instincts over his sister’s word, but he’d allowed himself to feel marginally guilty about upsetting Cordelia.

How could she not understand he was simply trying to do what was best for her? She clearly wasn’t thinking straight— and to be honest she never had when it came to the Herondale boy. It would be over his dead body that he’d ever see James hand-in-hand with his sister.

No, not even then.

Alastair shoved his watch back into his pocket, stood from the chair retrieving his jacket from the arm, and marched towards the door.

“Oh,” said a voice behind him. “Are you leaving too?”

Alastair turned to find Thomas descending the stairs in his full fighting gear. His soft brown hair was combed back away from his face and curling slightly behind his ears. His scarred hands were adjusting the straps across his broad chest that just barely fit across him. Alastair swallowed and quickly averted his eyes to his shoes and then the front door.

With a strange pitch in his voice, Alastair said, “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“I came with my parents to meet the Herondales,” said Thomas tucking in the extra bit of leather left at the end of his strap. “I thought Christopher, Matthew, and James would be here, but it appears I am at a loss. Miss communication.”

“James is with Matthew on patrol,” said Alastair. “At least that’s what I was told.”

Thomas looked off to the side. “Then I’m sure that’s the truth of it. Where are you headed?”

“I’m supposed to meet my sister at the other Lightwood’s estate,” said Alastair. “She’s running a bit behind so I figured I’d spare her the trouble and catch her there.”

“I’m on my way there as well,” said Thomas. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Surprised, all words evaporated from Alastair’s mind. When he managed to find them again, a bright color had emerged in his cheeks. “Are you quite sure. I don’t mind finding my own way there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Thomas reaching for the door knob. “We’re going in the same direction, not on an outing together, there’s no reason for us to take two separate carriages to the same destination.” Thomas opened the door and without waiting for Alastair to respond, he walked out onto the front steps.

Still slightly shocked, Alastair combed a hand through his hair, picked up his cane, and followed.

“What plans do you and Cordelia have today?” Thomas asked from atop the bench seat of his parent’s carriage.

Alastair, who’d chosen to remain quiet despite the kindness being extended to him, focused on the main road as he answered. “I’m not sure. She mentioned something about going to a park.” He was quite certain that was all that was going on between them. Perhaps his parents conjured him into being kind to the injured, isolated, and troubled Carstairs boy. Perhaps this was some sort of revenge and Thomas had alternative plans of dropping him into the Thames.

“It’s a lovely day for the park—“

“What are you doing?”

Thomas’s eyebrow jumped. “Excuse me?”

“This?” Alastair motioned between them. “This show of uncharacteristic kindness. I can tell it’s not genuine. Who put you up to this?”

Thomas sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I felt badly for the way I spoke to you the other day.”

Alastair had to fight to keep the shock from his face. “You felt bad? Thomas, you have nothing to feel badly about.”

“Perhaps,” said Thomas, “but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair I was being towards you. Do not misunderstand me, this is not me granting you pardon for what you did, but rather an understanding.”

“Why?”

“Because when you created those lies about my father,” said Thomas, “I created lies for him, or what I thought were lies to help repair some of his reputation. My father, who is an upstanding citizen by most regards, and truly a wonderful father, and I was making up all kinds of lies to protect him even though I knew the rumors about him were lies— even though I believed him. I can’t imagine if the rumors were actually true.”

He didn’t have to say it. Alastair had long since learned to read between the lines of what someone was saying to him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” said Alastair shortly.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” said Thomas, never removing his eyes from the road, “and I don’t pity you. I’m merely saying that I understand. In a way, I understand.”

With the wind brushing against his face, Alastair felt a weight of sorts brush off of him.

“I am sorry for what I’ve done to your family and Matthew’s,” said Alastair. “I’ve been minding my father’s reputation since I was a boy.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Thomas. “I know why I fought for my father’s reputation, but yours was an actual alcoholic.”

Alastair bristled. “Alcoholic or not, he is still my father.”

“I’m sorry if I offended—“

“You didn’t offend,” said Alastair. “I suppose I fought so hard to protect him for so long that I simply forgot how to not to. I’d been able to keep up a pretense about my father that at the first sign of trouble, my instinct was to defend him, and the only way I knew how to do that was to put the spotlight onto someone else. If I’m being honest, it wasn’t him I was trying to protect.”

“Yourself?” asked Thomas, as he steered the horse down an empty brick paved street.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair. “I was trying to protect Cordelia. She grew up believing that our father was someone to be admired. She held him on the same pedestal that the Herondale children held their father. I made sure that she never knew about his… illness.”

“Does she know now?”

“She does,” said Alastair. “I couldn’t protect her forever.”

“No,” said Thomas, drawing the horse to a stop at the brick pathway leading to a white gated entrance to a garden. “I suppose you can’t.”

Alastair looked up at the beautiful ivy crested veranda and tried to remember what had caused him to go fetch Cordelia in such a hast. Surely, she was all right with Lucie and if she was in fact with James, perhaps it was high time that she started worrying about her own mistakes. And if she needed him, he would surely be there for her.

“Perhaps I’ll wait here,” said Alastair. “While you go fetch Christopher.”

From the ground now, Thomas looked up at Alastair as he tied the horse to a post. “Would you like me to get Cordelia for you?”

“No,” said Alastair, adjusting his coat. “I shouldn’t trouble her. She’ll return when—“

Before he could finish his sentence, a high pitched scream came from inside the house. Thomas and Alastair both looked in the direction of which it had come and then back at each other.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair as he swung himself down from the driver’s bench as Thomas drew a steele from the strap on his shoulder and whispered its name to it. It burst to light in his hand, accenting his face in a halo of light.

The two men stalked up to the open front door: Alastair at the front, with Thomas trailing closely behind him, both of them scanning their surroundings.

Upon entering the house, it didn’t appear that anything was out of place through the kitchen. There was no sign of a scuffle or demon activity. Even though he didn’t know him all that well, Alastair wouldn’t put it past the odd glasses wearing one to release a demon during one of his poorly executed experiments.

They inched through the kitchen into the short hallway that went through to the sitting room. Attached to the room was a staircase and from the second floor, they could hear an exchanging of voices.

Alastair broke for the stairs at a run with Thomas close behind him. He followed the direction the voices were coming from and turned to the left, stopping at a door that was partially opened. He was seconds from storming it, when Thomas grabbed him by the coat tail and wretched him back.

“Wait,” said Thomas and stepped in front of him, “listen.”

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and centuries of old lies. “Not unless you want me to start breaking bones in their bodies starting with the smallest.”

Thomas grabbed Alastair’s arm and mouthed a name. “Belial.”

Suddenly, the door slammed in front of Alastair and he heard the faint sound of the lock.

“We don’t have much time. I have a very short window back into my realm and we’ll need to be going now. That is if you want your friends to live.”

“Lucie,” said a male voice that Alastair could not recognize. “Don’t go with him. I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be alive.”

“How rude,” said Belial. “Do you have any idea how hard your mother and sister worked to bring you back to life. The least you could do is be more grateful.”

“If I go with you.” The voice was clearly Lucie’s and if Lucie was in there then so would Cordelia. “If I agree to do what you ask, you’ll promise to leave them alone?”

“You have my word,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and century old lies.

Thomas glanced at Alastair and pointed at the medieval spear hanging on the wall in the hallway. Alastair reached up and pulled it carefully from it’s hooks as Thomas took several steps back, picked his foot up, and kicked their way through the lock with his heel in a single, impressive stomp. As Thomas reached for Lucie, pulling her away from the mysterious figure in the center of the room, Alastair threw the spear with every ounce of his might.

He watched it spiral through the air, quick as an arrow, and then stop mere inches from Belial’s chest. A wicked grin curled around the handsome face, as the spear evaporated and then reappeared faster then Alastair could blink.

It was warm, that was the first thing he thought about. Warmth spreading across his back and his chest. His eyes searched the room for Cordelia, but he couldn’t find her face amongst the ones he could not recognize. Everyone stared at him, the pale haired girl Grace and a dark haired boy sitting beside her looked on at him terrified. His eyes drifted to his left where Thomas held Lucie tightly in his arms both gaped at him horrified. He tried to say something, but his lungs had stopped expanding. When he looked down at his chest, he could see where the warmth had come from. The end of the spear protruded from his chest.

“Alastair!” Thomas yelled.

“Go,” he said, as rust flavored saliva dripped from between his lips. “Go now.”

“Release the girl,” said Belial, with his arms crossed and a rather bored expression on his face, “and the boy lives.”

Thomas’s grip on Lucie faltered just slightly.

“Don’t,” said Alastair. “He’s lying.”

“Let me go, Thomas,” said Lucie. “Let me go. He won’t let him die, he won’t if it means he can have me.”

“Listen to the girl, Thomas,” said Belial. “Save your friend and sacrifice the other or lose both.”

Alastair could see the turmoil in Thomas’s gritted teeth and reddened face, still his hands were white knuckled around Lucie. He wouldn’t let her go. Not unless—

Lucie brought her head forward and swung it back against Thomas’s sternum. With a quick maneuver of her feet, she twisted under his grip and shoved him off balance into the wall.

“Let them go,” said Lucie, her hair loose from it’s braid now and falling around her face giving her the appearance of a mad woman. “Let him live and I’ll go with you.”

Belial grinned and with a slight nod of his head, he and Lucie blinked from the room like a flash of lightning. Alastair was released from the spear in the wall and fell crumpled to the ground on his knees. His hands went to his chest to feel for the wound, but while the blood and hole in his shirt were still there, the wound and weapon were not.

A/N: Hope I redeemed myself just a little bit. Next update comes out 12/20

[honeyhan-123]

Say Thank You XV

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, angst, major character death, me being a lil’ bitch. 

Word Count: 8.0k (yikes)

AN: So sorry about the delay but there was so much I wanted to include in this chapter and we’re here finally. 

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game ~ VIII. The First Attempt ~ IX. The Darkness ~ X. The Truth ~ XI. The Syndrome XII. The Meeting ~ XIII. The Mission ~ XIV. The Reunion

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

XV. The Battle

Your thighs ached as Steve helped you dress in one of his t-shirts. It swallowed you just like the rest of his clothing did but you didn’t mind. His scent was heavy on the shirt and it gave you an odd sense of being home. The cotton white towel that had been wrapped around his waist as you dressed fell to the floor, piling in a heap. 

You watched the firm muscles of his back shift, rippling under his skin as he moved, bending over to pick up his discarded suit. You admired the sight of his glorious firm backside as he dressed and even when he was done, you still marvelled at him. 

The suit had changed a lot since when you had last seen it during the battle of New York. You had always thought he looked a little like he had just come straight from a comic book but the way the dark material clung to his form had your cunt clenching in need. Gone was the bright royal blue with the blinding red and white stripes, in their place was a much darker look, definitely more fitting for the man before you now. 

His lips brushed against yours softly, his arms wrapping you in a warm embrace. You buried your head into his chest, nuzzling against the material. ‘Steve?’ Your voice was meek against his chest, timid in the sparse room. 

‘Yes Sweetheart?’ He tried to coax you, urging you to confide in him. 

‘I’m scared.’

‘I know you are Sweetheart. But it’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.’ Steve felt awful for lying to you, in truth he had no idea what was going to happen. But he did know that he would do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No matter what. 

‘C’mon Sweetheart, the others are waiting and we need to get to Wakanda as soon as possible.’ He held your hand as he tried to lead you from the room but your feet were locked in place. Both he and Bucky had mentioned the African country but you didn’t quite understand why. 

‘Wakanda? Why are we going there?’

‘Bucky told you about the Infinity Stones right?’ You nodded your head, slightly confused as to how it all connected together. ‘The Vision has one of them implanted into his mind and so to get it out we need somewhere with a top tier science lab and I know just the scientist to help us.’ You nodded again, thankful that he had actually spoken to you unlike when he had just left for that mission. And yet, you couldn’t get out of your head how you had had to prompt him to share information. It shouldn’t be like that, not really. He should willingly offer it, he should want you to be a part of his life. Just like Bucky had when he had calmed you down, telling you all about the mission that Steve was on. The one he had spoken about so vaguely… 

You squeezed your eyes shut, as though you could squeeze those thoughts out of your brain. You didn’t want them there, especially when you had Steve standing right in front of you, his warmth seeming to seep through his hand to yours, warming your entire body. 

This time, you allowed him to pull you from the room, leading you through various different hallways until he reached a hangar. ‘So glad you could finally join us Captain.’ You heard the sarcastic call emanate from somewhere inside the jet and you knew the voice belonged to Rhodey. Your cheeks heated as you approached the rest of the team, Rhodey had clearly realised why Steve had taken so long to fetch you and so the others probably had as well. 

Bucky smiled thinly over at you as he arrived, his small black gobag draped over his shoulder. ‘Hey Buck, I just wanted to say thank you for looking after my girl.’ Something flashed too quickly for you to register in Bucky’s eyes at Steve’s words. 

‘Yeah sure anytime pal.’ His eyes briefly flickered over to you before returning to Steve’s as he was pulled in for a hug. Bucky forced a smile once more before hastily turning on his heel and heading towards the jet. You didn’t have long to wonder at Bucky’s strange behaviour before someone else approached. 

‘Ahh, so this is why you were so impatient to get home.’ You could clearly hear the teasing in the infamous Black Widow’s voice as she approached, extending her hand to clasp yours. ‘I’m Natasha.’ You smiled thinly, nerves eating you up as you gave her your name. 

The next person to offer you their hand was Sam and he definitely made you feel far more at ease than the super spy had. His smile was bright and genuine as he took your hand, asking Steve teasingly where he had been hiding you away. Oh if only he knew.

As Steve tactfully evaded Sam’s teasing, your eyes flitted over the jet, watching as the rest of the team readied themselves. You felt Steve’s arm wrap around you as he tried to bring you into the conversation. You withheld your sigh but nestled in against Steve’s side, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him. Thankfully his conversation with Sam was cut short by two others arriving. They introduced themselves as Wanda and Vision and before you knew it, Sam had the hangar doors open and the jet in the air. 

+

The flight was silent for the most part, your hand in Steve’s as he ignored the quizzical looks the others sent the two of you. While he had given them a simple explanation, calling you his girlfriend, he skirted the other questions fired at him. Everyone seemed to drop it except one. It sent shivers down your spine, the way her piercing green eyes roved over you, seemingly searching through your soul. 

You knew that Steve had been on a mission when he had found you again in Madrid and you wondered if she had been there too, at least that would explain why she had so many questions and struggled to accept your relationship. There was another possible reason but you didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to have to deal with the self doubt and insecurity it brought with it. 

As your stomach churned with thoughts of Natasha’s bright green eyes, you felt another pair on you, searching through you. Your eyes flickered over to Bucky and where he sat, opposite you and Steve in the body of the jet. Melancholy seemed to radiate off of him as his gaze was transfixed on your entwined hands. 

If Steve noticed his best friend's demeanor he didn’t say or do anything. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you into his warm embrace, resting your back against his firm chest. It was warm and familiar, bringing a soft smile to your face. ‘You should try and get some sleep Sweetheart. It’s going to be a long flight.’ You hummed up at him, your eyes drifting closed. The even expansion and contraction of his chest mixed with the soft thump of his heart lulled you to sleep. 

+

When you awoke a chill had settled over you. Steve was no longer holding onto you and as your eyes drifted open you saw him leaning over Sam’s chair, staring fixedly out the windshield. He muttered something about co-ordinates that you didn’t quite catch and you felt a jolt as the jet dipped down until it was almost in line with the trees. 

‘I hope you’re right about this or we’re going to land a lot faster than you want to.’ You locked eyes with Bucky in a mild panic as you heard Sam’s words. The jet continued to sink lower and Bucky crossed the jet, coming to sit next to you. 

‘We’ll be fine. Steve knows what he’s doing; he’s done this before.’ He murmured the words to you, his hand coming up to slowly rub your back, soothing you. 

You barely had a chance to nod before you felt a jolt through the jet and your eyes squeezed shut, certain that you were about to die. Yet, no pain came. No screaming or wailing as the jet crashed into the trees. ‘Doll, you can open your eyes now. It’s okay.’ Slowly, you allowed Bucky to coax you into opening your eyes, you jaw dropping slightly as you did so.

Wakanda was unlike any other place you had ever seen before. Where there once was acres of unruly trees, now stood a gleaming city. Sure, you had read about it in the news and Steve had told you a little bit about it but his words had not done the place justice. You stared in awe as the jet flew over a large body of water before coming to hover over a landing pad, the bay doors slowly opening. 

Steve turned away from the cockpit, surprised to see you so close behind him but he smiled, taking your hand as he led you from the ship. ‘Wakanda really is something huh?’ All you could do was nod in awe, your eyes struggling to adjust to the bright sunlight outside. 

You noted the procession waiting to greet you, T’Challa in front with a hoard of women clad in red, holding sharp spears. You followed a half-step behind Steve as he approached the Wakandan King, holding out his hand. ‘Seems like I’m always thanking you for something.’ The king smiled and as they shook hands. 

‘And who might this be?’ His gaze turned curious as he locked eyes with you, practically hiding behind Steve’s immense frame. 

Steve introduced you and you gently took the hand extended by the King, warming up to the man as he smiled genuinely down at you. ‘I was wondering if she could stay, perhaps with Shuri while she worked?’

‘Of course Captain. Any friend of yours is a friend of Wakanda.’ Steve smiled at that, making way for the others to greet T’Challa. 

‘Ahh, the White Wolf. How have you been?’ You were slightly confused by the greeting he gave to Bucky but the other man merely shrugged. 

‘Could be better and I wish I was returning on better circumstances.’ The two men nodded gravely before the king’s attention was drawn to Bruce as he stepped forward, bending into a slight bow. You watched as Rhodey tried to hold in his laughter as T’Challa awkwardly informed Bruce, whose cheeks had a definite pink tinge,  that that wasn't a part of their custom. 

You couldn’t hold back your smile as you watched the display but it was soon lost as they started discussing strategy. Although you knew little of what to expect, it sounded like they were planning for a full on invasion of enemy forces. A chill went down your spine as you remembered the last time aliens had invaded Earth. If it weren’t for Steve’s arm wrapped around your waist as T’Challa led you through the halls of his palace, you weren’t sure if you could have handled the fear that thought brought with it. 

You had well and truly lost track of all the turns and twists you had taken as T’Challa pushed open a large set of double doors, revealing what even you could tell was a state of the art lab. Inside you could see a girl, a woman really, she only looked a few years younger than you, working on something but quickly her attention was snatched by your group. 

Your attention waned as she and Bruce spoke about the Vision and how they should properly disconnect him from the stone. The science terms they rattled off with ease floated over your head and looking around at the others it didn’t seem like you were the only one slightly lost. 

‘T’Challa, I don’t suppose you have some spare bedrooms we could use? According to our calculations they should be arriving tomorrow - probably in the morning sometime.’ 

‘Of course Captain. I’ll have some people escort you to our guest wing while these two work.’ Steve smiled in thanks and started leading you from the room, the rest of the team following suit except for Wanda, choosing to stay by Vision’s side. 

‘Do you think Bruce and Shuri will get it done before they arrive?’ Sam’s melodic voice broke the silence as you walked. 

‘We can only hope they do. Otherwise I don’t know what we’re going to do.’ Steve’s thumb rubbed circles on yours, his nerves very apparent as the group fell back into a silence. 

Eventually you ascended to what was obviously the guest wing T’Challa had mentioned and Steve led you to the first room he could find. ‘Why don’t you go and settle in Sweetheart? I’ll be right back. I just want to talk to Bucky real quick first.’ You nodded and reached up to give him a short peck before heading inside, wondering what could be so desperate.

+

Steve’s knuckles rapped on the thick wood as he stood in the hallway, his gaze longingly fixated on the door which you had just disappeared behind. No matter how badly he wanted to be with you right now, he knew he had to talk to Bucky first. Something was clearly on his mind, he had been off ever since Steve had returned from the mission. 

He heard a soft voice call for him to enter so he pushed the door open slowly and peered around. At first it didn’t seem like Bucky was there and just as Steve was about to turn around, he noticed the open balcony door, allowing the cool night air in. 

Bucky was leaning on the rail, his gaze fixated on the Wakandan skyline but Steve knew he sensed him, standing in the doorway. ‘Hey Buck.’

‘What do you need?’ It had been a while since Steve had seen this side of Bucky, the strange detachment. 

‘No Buck. What do you need? You’ve been acting off ever since I got back from Scotland. What’s going on with you?’ Steve heard a long sigh, Bucky’s gaze refusing to move away from the city.

‘It’s nothing Steve. I’m fine, just stressed about tomorrow.’

‘That’s bullshit and we both know it. Is it…’ Steve broke off, not quite sure if he wanted the answer to his question. ‘I know I haven’t been spending much time with any of the team and especially you recently and I’m sorry about that. But I feel like my girl and I are finally in a really good place right now and now that she’s met the rest of the team, things will change. I promise we’ll both be around more.’ At his words Steve noticed the almost undetectable tense of Bucky’s body. ‘I thought… I thought you liked her?  Did something happen?’ 

Bucky cursed at how easily his best friend could read him, forcing his best fake smile. ‘No, nothing happened, she just missed you, a lot. She’s a real dame.’

‘Buck…’

‘Steve, everything’s fine. Just go be with your girl, we all need to get some sleep.’ After a terse silence, Steve finally receded, bidding Bucky a goodnight as he left the balcony, heading back to you. The city lights reflected in Bucky’s eyes, the feeling of disgust that Steve’s visit had only intensified churning around in his stomach. How could he tell his best friend that he was acting weird because he was jealous?

+

You didn’t hear the door open when Steve returned but you felt the dip in the bed as he pressed his body against yours, his arm wrapping around you and his face nuzzling into your neck. His lips brushed feather light along the skin sending shivers down your back. 

‘What were you doing?’ All thoughts of sleep were thrown out the window as he pressed even closer to you, hot and hard underneath the silken sheets. 

‘Just talking to Bucky.’ Steve breathed against your shoulder blade, his hand pushing his shirt up above your legs.

‘How is he?’ Your response was immediate, concern for the man you barely knew taking over. 

Steve’s hand stilled between your legs, trying to talk himself out of asking the question forming in his mind, but both you and Bucky had been acting weird. The need to know won. ‘He’s okay. Did something happen while I was gone?’ He didn’t need you to respond, feeling your body tense against his was enough of an answer for him. 

He pulled away, his hand that had been wrapped around you pulling your body with his, forcing you to face him. ‘What happened?’ 

The man staring back at you was a stark contrast of the one that had crawled into your bed five minutes ago. His azure eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as his mind raced, already suspecting the worst. 

‘Nothing really. I just - I just missed you. So much, you have no idea. And then I couldn’t sleep, I had one of my nightmares and Bucky was there. He woke me up and brought me back and he was so warm. I-’ You cut yourself off, not sure if you really wanted to finish that sentence but you knew it would sound better coming from you instead of Bucky. 

‘You what?’ Steve’s grip in you tightened, his fingernails digging into your tender muscles. 

‘I asked him to stay with me.’ You admitted, you voice small as it came out. 

‘And then what?’ 

‘And then nothing. He held me and I fell asleep. He just - it just made me feel like you were still with me.’ You hand reached up, cupping his cheek as you tried to explain why you had done it. ‘He’s just warm and big like you and I was scared and you had left me alone. I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing.’ After a long pause, Steve gave a miniscule nod, his jaw still clenched but his eyes no longer narrowed into slits. 

‘I understand. As long as that’s all that happened?’ 

‘Of course Stevie I -’ You cut yourself off from saying that. No matter what that stupid muscle in your chest told you, you weren’t quite ready to say it to him yet. ‘Nothing else happened. The next morning  he got your call and then we went to the compound. We’d barely been back before you joined me in the shower.’ You hoped the reminder of your shower escapades was enough to put him back in a good mood. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow and you didn’t want to spend this last night together arguing, yet… you did want some answers. 

‘But while we’re being honest with each other…’ Your hand trailed down his chest, drawing indecipherable patterns, your eyebrows furrowed as you thought over your words. 

‘What Sweetheart? What do you want to know?’ 

‘At the compound… before the shower, I kind of maybe went snooping through your stuff and I-’

‘You found my sketchbook.’ 

‘Yeah. There were a lot of drawings of me but… we only really met after the Accords… after you had moved out of the compound.’ You didn’t know much about Steve’s life post the Accords and before you but you knew he would have moved out of the compound. 

‘Well… I mean, we actually met in New York during the battle there, nearly six years ago now. Do you remember that?’

‘Of course I do. You saved my life.’

‘Yeah I did. I remember it so vividly, fending off those Chitauri and then finding you, lying trapped under that car. Even in the heat of battle I knew you were beautiful, a proper dame. But then when I had to leave and you didn’t even say thank you… I don’t know. It just reminded me of all those other women Bucky had tried to get me to date but they had never paid any attention to me, just like you and it got to me.’ Your heart broke for him as he re-lived the neglect he had felt for all those years. 

‘You haunted my dreams and everytime I stared at a blank piece of paper, the only thing I wanted to draw was you. I became increasingly obsessed with you, with finding you and teaching you some manners. And then I did... but somewhere along the way it became more than that. I fell in love with you and I know that this wasn’t exactly the best way to start the rest of our lives together but I can’t change the past. I can only hope that you find it in you to forgive me. I love you Sweetheart, so much. You have no idea how it would destroy me if anything ever happened to you.’ 

Your breath hitched as he said those three words, the same ones that had been bouncing around in your chest for the past few days. An achingly long silence stretched as you considered what to say in response. 

‘You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s a lot to process and if… if you don’t think that you could ever love me back or forgive me… well we could, I mean, you could… you could leave.’ Steve didn’t know how on earth he managed to choke the words out. He could feel tears threatening to pool in his eyes at the mere thought of you leaving. He knew there was nothing he wanted more than a future with you and if you left it would kill him, but he also knew that he couldn’t force you into the future he wanted. He wanted the big wedding, the kids, the growing old together. He wanted it all and try as he might, he couldn’t force you to want it with him. He didn’t want to build this life with you only to have you resent him every day for the rest of your lives. 

Your head spun, whiplash at his emotions confused you as he peered at you, his eyes reflecting just how vulnerable he was right now. He had gone from not-so-borderline jealous about Bucky to confessing his love to offering you a way out. Did you want a way out?

‘Steve… I-I can’t say those words back to. I’m sorry. I wish I could but I’m just not ready.’ The way the small bundle of hope in his eyes seemed to die tore at your heart strings. ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t want to though. What you did was wrong and so incredibly fucked up and if we’re going to continue, we need to have a serious conversation about our expectations for where we go from here and now just isn’t the time for it. Maybe after all this is over we can have that chat?’

‘Of course. Anything you want. I think that sounds like a good idea.’ Steve would agree to anything if it meant you would choose to stay with him. He was determined to fix this mess he had made. ‘I know you said you can’t say it but I really do love you.’ 

You smiled at his words, the pure emotion shining through as he spoke. ‘I know.’ You smiled as you leaned up, your lips pressing against his. It was slow and soft even after you had crawled on top of him, your thighs spread out on either side of his impressive chest. You drank each other in, your bodies slowly coming to life as you rocked against him, feeling him grow once more. 

His hands drifted up, bunching his t-shirt up above your waist and then swiftly pulling it over your head and throwing it into some corner of the room, far, far away. Just like always Steve was mesmerized by you. With the moonlight drifting in and dancing along your skin you looked like a true goddess and Steve couldn’t believe that he even had a chance with you. 

His hands gripped your ass, moving you against him slightly harder as your tongues seemed to merge. All he could sense was you. Your taste, your smell, your body against his. You were his whole world. 

Gently, he rolled over, switching places with you, leaning on his elbows above you. He gently pushed some hair off of your face and out of the way, his eyes boring lovingly into yours before diving back in. One hand snaked its way down, underneath the band of your panties. He cupped you there. His fingers coating themselves with the slick pooling there before slowly inserting themselves into you, one at a time. 

The fire was slowly igniting in your belly as he curled his fingers this way and that, stroking you right there, bringing you to life. His lips brushed over your skin, making their way down your neck and over your breasts. Your fingers curled in his hair, burying themselves in his locks. Your back arched up, pushing your chest further into his mouth and he rolled your nipple between his teeth. 

‘Steve,’ You were breathless already, his name barely falling from your lips in a plea for more. And Steve gave you more. 

His thumb pressed down on your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers into you and with his mouth dancing over your skin, you couldn’t hold back. You pulled his face back up to yours, forcing your lips against his as you came, gushing over his hand. His mouth swallowed your moans, drinking them in until you couldn’t even think any more. 

You felt his tip brush against your pulsating clit, circling it a few times before inching its way down to your entrance. Steve’s eyes were locked on yours as he gently pushed in, pausing every few centimeters, relishing in the way your walls squeezed him so tightly. When he had finally made his entire way in, he couldn’t help but groan. It felt so right. Being here with you, knowing that he had a chance at a real future. Even though the world could end tomorrow, Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care. This moment was perfect. 

Eventually he started rocking his hips, your own moving with his, meeting him halfway. He cradled your head in his hands, his lips meeting yours once more, needing that feeling of connection. 

He could feel your fingernails digging into his back, your hands sliding in the sweat forming. His thrusts grew in speed and force. He was sure to angle his hips, making his length brush against you there.  You were so warm and wet, your velvet walls squeezing him so tightly. He could feel your slick dripping down, spilling all over him and coating your skin. 

Steve breathed in your air and one hand disappeared down to where your bodies were connected. He rubbed his fingers over your clit, playing with the small bundle of nerves. The ever-tightening coil in his gut told him he didn’t have long to make you cum. 

‘Sweetheart… baby please. Cum for me, cum on my cock.’ His voice was deep, a long groan against your lips as he pleaded. ‘I love it when you cum with me Sweetheart. You take my cock so fuckin’ well and my cum… god you have no idea how hard I get knowing it’s inside you.’ 

The pleasure was growing too much, the feeling of your walls clenching around him told Steve that you were close too. With a final circle of your clit, Steve felt you come undone underneath him. Your muscles tensing as you screamed into his mouth. He felt your hands slide down his back, gripping his ass as he came, your walls squeezing him like a vice. He thrusted once, twice, three times into you before stilling. 

He pulled back slightly, pride taking over at the fucked out expression on your face. In the heat of things some hair had clung to the sweat coating your face so he gently brushed it back out of the way. ‘I love you.’ It was soft and he didn’t wait for a response, pecking your lips once more before pulling out and rolling onto his back, dragging your body with his. 

His arms wrapped around you, his hands over your stomach. When he felt you try to stir in his arms he just pulled them tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Even though you hadn’t opened your mouth yet, he knew you wanted to discuss tomorrow. ‘Shhh, Sweetheart. Don’t worry about tomorrow, just sleep. I’ll protect you, now and always.’ He felt you nod against his chest, your lips breaking into a smile as you got comfortable. 

He himself eventually drifted off, a smile on his face as he thought about the future you were going to share. 

+

‘My King.’ The same woman you had met yesterday entered the hall. Her golden armour gleaned from the sunlight spilling in from outside. 

‘What is it Okoye?’ T’Challa asked, even though everyone sitting at the breakfast table knew what she was about to say. 

‘They’ve entered the atmosphere. We have maybe twenty minutes until they arrive.’ A sombre mood fell over the group, leaving their meals half eaten as they departed the hall. You followed along after Steve, his hand gripping yours tightly, a firm scowl on his face as he thought. While the others turned to head downstairs towards the armoury, Steve led you upstairs, towards Shuri’s lab. 

He knocked on the door before entering. The room was just as it had been yesterday, Shuri frantically working over Vision as Wanda watched over nervously. Both women barely spared you and Steve a glance as you entered. 

‘Shuri, how long will it be?’ 

‘I’m working as quickly as I can. Do you know how many neurons there are in the brain?’ The princess sassed back, but Steve paid her attitude no mind. 

‘How long?’ 

‘Another hour or two but I would be working much quicker if I didn’t have you distracting me.’ Hey eyes raised up, looking Steve square in the face. He nodded and turned back to you. 

‘Everything’s going to be okay Sweetheart. You’re going to be fine. But just in case something happens, I want you to have this.’ He handed you the gun that had been strapped to his thigh. 

‘Steve? What? I can’t - I don’t know how to use one.’ 

‘And you won’t have to use it but I need to know that if in the rare case something happens you can protect yourself. I won’t be able to focus out on the field if I know you might be in danger.’ You nodded, hesitantly taking the gun from his hands. It was heavier than you had expected although you had definitely never seen this coming. 

‘This is the safety. It’s on right now but at the first sign of trouble, you flick that switch and then you point and shoot. Never ever point it at something you don’t intend on shooting. Do you understand?’ You nodded, a chill settling over you. 

‘Okay, Sweetheart I love you. You’re going to be fine.’ You could barely stand still, your body threatening to collapse as fear plagued you but you managed a nod. His arms wrapped around you, his warmth and his scent were comforting. His lips even more so as he kissed you lovingly. He had to leave all too soon, a silent conversation with Wanda as she promised to look after you and one last glance as you before he was out the door, heading down to the armoury. 

+

Steve’s nerves jittered inside of him. It was that weird sense of calm and stress that he always felt before a big mission or battle. It gave him an odd sense of comfort. He was as prepared for this as he would ever be and while he would’ve preferred if you were somewhere far away, he knew Shuri and Wanda would help protect you. Not that anything would happen. 

He stepped forward, walking with Nat and T’Challa to where he could see his pals from the train station the other night. 

‘Where’s your other friend?’ He heard Natasha tease and he wanted to shake his head. Now was not the time to provoke these guys. 

‘You will pay for his life with yours.’ The one with blue hair promised, a glint in her eye. ‘Thanos will have that stone.’ 

Steve's jaw clenched, his resolution staying fim. ‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.’ T’Challa chimed in, determined to protect his country. 

A smirk came over her face as the king spoke and Steve didn’t like the smugness that radiated off of her. ‘We have blood to spare.’ With a grunt she lifted her sword skyward and the half a dozen ships opened their doors. 

Quickly Steve and the others backed away to where the troops stood in formation, getting ready to fight.

‘They surrender?’ Bucky’s low timber sounded in Steve’s ear and for a moment he was taken back to the forties, to the last time they fought together on that train. 

‘Not exactly.’ 

The crowd watched on in silence as the dog-like aliens galloped through the treeline, out onto the field, not stopping even after the first wave had been decimated by the protective barrier. 

‘They’re killing themselves.’ Okoye muttered under her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her. Steve couldn’t help but agree. He too couldn’t take his eyes off of the animals hurling themselves at the barrier despite how gruesome it was. 

The few that managed to make it through the barrier were easily disposed of. The Wakandan soldiers fired from their spears and Sam and Rhodey flew overhead, dropping various grenades on them. The roar of Bucky’s machine gun rang in Steve’s ear.

Steve watched as the animals seemed to diverge, splitting off around the edge of the barrier, making to circle the city. His fears were confirmed by Bruce in his comms. ‘Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there’s nothing between them and Vision.’ Between them and his girl Steve added in his mind. 

‘Then we better keep them in front of us.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘We open the barrier.’ Steve and T’Challa shared a look as the other man called the princess.

+

Steve’s  blood pounded, his heart thumped wildly in his chest. His sweat made his hair cling to his forehead. They were easily outnumbered but what made the battle so difficult was the clear lack of fear shown by the animals. No matter how many Steve killed, more kept coming at him, unafraid of what they had seen him just do.

While he liked the shields that T’Challa had given him, he wasn’t quite used to them. It was times like these when Steve really missed his shield. It would have been useful now, being able to throw it around instead of using purely just hand to hand skills. Although, the sharp edges of the Wakandan ones were handy for stabbing. 

Steve felt himself airborne, a large something crashing into him before he was pounded into the ground, two of the aliens on top of him. Hastily he kicked out, swinging his arms wildly, chopping off limbs as he fought to get them off.  However, when they finally collapsed next to him, he barely had a chance to regain his senses before five more were in their place. 

He struggled to breathe, an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia flowing through him but he knew he couldn’t afford to panic. 

Through the sea of bodies surrounding him, Steve could make out a great flash of colour and he was momentarily blinded by the light before he felt a sudden lightness. The mutts that had been on top of him all lay in pieces at his sides despite him doing nothing. Sitting up confusedly, he glanced around, thanking whoever was out there when he saw a familiar Norse god. 

He hastily stood up, rejoining the battle as he slowly made his way across the field to where Thor fought alongside what looked like a tree and a machine gun yielding racoon. 

‘New haircut?’ Steve called over the battle. 

‘I noticed you’ve copied my beard.’ Steve smiled, nodding slightly. He had missed these mid-fight chats. He watched in amazement as the tree reached out, his arm forcing its way through half a dozen mutts. ‘Oh by the way this is a friend of mine, a tree.’ 

‘I am Groot.’ In all his time Steve had seen a lot of weird things but a moving and talking tree probably had to make the top ten list. 

‘I am Steve Rogers.’ He felt it only polite to introduce himself to the tree before getting back to the heat of the battle. 

+

Your gut twisted and clenched, your anxiety was through the roof as you watched the scene unfold from the lab. Wanda had tried to help, to keep you distracted but she herself was clearly worried about those that she called her family. When the rainbow tunnel had come down from the sky, you had worried that it was more alien ships but Wanda had just smiled. ‘It’s Thor. He’s here to help.’ 

You had heard of the god of thunder before and it did definitely help your nerves knowing that Steve had a god on his side now, but still… there were a lot of enemies. 

The ground seemed to shake beneath you, Shuri’s instruments rattling on shelves as you glanced around confusedly. ‘What was that?’ 

‘Oh no… look.’ Wanda pointed out the window, where you could see the treeline slowly disappearing. The ground visibly shaking even from this distance.

‘What is it?’ 

‘I’m not sure… it looks like -’ Wanda’s voice cut off when the ground erupts. Long drill-like structures spring up in the middle of the field and what little relief Thor’s arrival had caused vanishes. You race over to where Shuri stands arranging Vision’s nerves away from the golden stone in the holograph. 

‘How much longer Shuri?’ 

‘I-I’m not sure. It’s complicated.’

‘We don’t have much longer!’ Your voice is shrill, panic flowing freely through you as you thought of Steve fighting down there with the hoards of animals. 

You turn back to the window, needing Wanda to calm you down but she’s no longer standing staring out at the field. Instead you see a glowing red cloud swirl around her as she flies down to join the battle. 

Your heart sinks as you watch her go but you couldn’t blame her. Even though you knew absolutely nothing about fighting you would do anything to be down there with Steve. Not knowing whether he was okay was killing you. 

The clang of metal drew you from your worries as you whipped around. You had no idea how he had gotten there but standing in the doorway was a pale blue giant of a man. You watched as the member of the Dora Milaje that had been stationed with the princess charged the giant but she barely stood a chance. Her body was tossed away within an instant, landing near your feet. 

Your heart started racing, pounding wildly in your chest and your palms were sweaty but you dashed towards the table where you had placed Steve’s gun. Your hand trembled as you switched the safety off just like he had shown you that morning. You watched as Shuri fired her own weapon before slowly raising the cool metal and pointing it at the giant’s chest. 

You took an even breath before firing. The recoil was enough to force you a few steps back but you had his attention now and you couldn't afford to waste anytime. You fired again and again until pulling the trigger did nothing, your clip empty.

Your back was pressed against the table, you had nowhere to run and no way to fight off this giant. Your death was imminent, this was going to be the end and Steve… Steve would never know that you loved him. 

Your eyes squeezed tight as you forced yourself to imagine Steve, of how he had looked last night, his voice whispering that he loved you into your ear. If you were going to die you wanted your last memory to be a happy one. 

A soft whoosh flew past your head before you heard a tremendous crash and the sound of broken glass. Your eyes peaked open just in time to see Vision as he hurled out the broken window after the giant, fighting as they fell down to the field. 

Relief like none other that you had ever felt flowed through and you made a silent promise that you would tell Steve how you felt if you both made it out of here alive. 

+

Steve’s heart sank when a whisper of red flew past him. Wanda was on the field. He had told her not to leave Vision’s side until the stone was destroyed. She had promised him that she would protect his girl. With the way things were going, Steve worried that his girl would have to end up using the gun he had given her. He just hoped she was a natural shot. 

His heart sank again when Sam’s voice called out through his comms. ‘Guys, we’ve got a Vision problem.’ Steve ran through the battle, trying desperately to get to the trees where he had seen Vision land. 

The trees blurred as he rushed past them and he felt sure his blood pressure was at an all time high. They couldn’t afford to fail now. He couldn’t afford to fail, not when he was just on the verge of getting everything he had ever wanted. 

He watched as Vision got stabbed through the chest, his form flickering as it glitched and Steve forced himself to run faster. He tackled the one that had stabbed Vision, calling out as he pushed himself off the ground. ‘Get out of here!’ He ducked a swing from the man, throwing one of his own back. ‘Go!’ He yelled at Vision when he saw that he had not moved from the tree he was leaning on. 

His brief glance back had cost him as suddenly Steve felt himself airborne, his body crashing into a tree log before falling back to the ground. Before he had time to recover the alien was on top of him, it’s hands wrapped around his throat in a vice like grip. His arms were pinned and he struggled to escape, he struggled to breathe. 

Black spots started to dance along his vision and Steve could feel his energy fade. He knew he had gotten out alive from far worse situations but lying here in the middle of a Wakandan forest, he feared this time he wouldn’t be so lucky. As his vision faded to black, it was your face he saw behind his closed lids. It was from last night when you had looked so serene, so much like a goddess sitting on top of him. With his last few dregs of remaining strength he forced himself to continue fighting, for his future, for you. 

Suddenly he could breathe again, the creature that had been pinning him down now seemed to be floating but as his vision cleared, Steve realised it was Vision. He had stabbed the creature and tossed its body away. Vision staggered where he stood and Steve hastily got to his feet, slinging an arm around his teammate. 

‘I thought I told you to go.’ His voice was hoarse and his throat stung as he spoke.

‘We don’t trade lives Captain.’ Steve smiled briefly before he noticed the odd sense of calm that had settled over the forest. 

‘Guys, we have incoming.’ Steve didn’t have to be able to see anything to know that something big was coming. He could just sense it in his gut. 

Thankfully most of the team was around him, preparing to fight with him when they saw the big cloud of grey smoke. Blue sparks crackled as the cloud grew larger and larger until a vague man shaped silhouette stood out against the grey. 

‘That’s him’ Steve didn’t need Bruce’s voice in his ear to confirm his suspicions. This was Thanos. 

‘Eyes up, stay sharp.’ It wasn’t much of a pep talk but it was the best he could offer right now and following Bruce’s lead, he charged the purple giant. Steve watched in horror as Thanos easily lifted the hulk iron man suit over his head, throwing it against the rocks where it seemed to be swallowed by the limestone. 

He barely got within two meters of Thanos before he felt his body being lifted and thrown away, hitting his head as he landed. He watched as Sam landed nearby, his wings out of commission and as Natasha was trapped seemingly by the ground. 

A glare of red in his peripheries told him that their efforts had been in vain. They were out of time and the stone had to be destroyed now. Groggily, he got back to his feet, racing to where Thanos was making his way towards Wanda. He had to stop him.

He ducked this way and that as Thanos threw punches and surprisingly managed to land a few of his own. He had realised that Thanos’ power seemed to come from the gauntlet he wore and so at his first chance, Steve grabbed the golden glove. He had to use two hands to keep his fist from closing and a yell escaped his lips from the strain. He knew he couldn’t hold him off forever but he had to at least try to give Wanda enough time. 

Suddenly his body was jolted forward as Thanos pulled his arm back, his other landing a clean blow to the side of Steve’s head. The last thing he saw was Thanos moving determinedly towards Wanda and Vision before the world went black. 

+

When he awoke he saw Thor standing before Thanos, his axe buried deep in his chest before a cloud of smoke engulfed his giant body and he vanished. 

‘Where’d he go?’ Steve’s eyes darted around the forest, half expecting the purple giant to come out from behind one of the trees. ‘Thor?’ His breaths were coming heavy and his head pounded. He was sure a couple of his ribs were broken but there were more pressing issues. ‘Where’d he go?!’ Still, he got no response from the god, his eyes staring distantly at where his axe lay on the ground. 

‘Steve?’ He barely had a chance to register what he was seeing before it was over. Bucky was walking towards him, his body fading to dust before finally disappearing, his gun clattering to the ground. 

‘Bucky?’ He rushed to where his best friend had been and where there was now just a pile of dust. His finger ran through the dust, his eyes looking back up at Thor, the realisation that they had failed finally starting to sink in. 

‘We lost. He did it.’ Steve’s legs seemed to give out from under him, his whole body was trembling. Bucky… he had just gotten him back and now he was gone again. It wasn’t fair, it couldn’t be happening. 

He distantly heard the voices of his team over the comms as they scrambled to figure out who was still alive. It was only when Okoye pointed out that she hadn’t heard from Shuri that Steve’s head snapped up. 

Before he could even blink he was back on his feet, the forest rushing past him as he raced to the palace. Nothing seemed to matter as he ran, not his pounding headache or the cut in his side that was seeping with blood. Nothing mattered but you. He couldn’t lose you too. Not now, not ever. 

+

Please don’t hate me 

Tags will be added in a reblog

XVI. The Endgame

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (XV)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

Chapter Warning: Slight nsfw

(Chapter XV/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

Wow, a few more chapter left of season 1, huh? Can’t believe it XD Enjoy, loves!! I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter!

Taglist:

@freedom-for-bum@reallyfuckingangrylatina@risarisarisaa @ashherssss@mels-heart@xa-dia@shanty-lol@amkxh@chims-kookies@fantasticapple@thalia-luna-hawthorn​@skzero-99@marvelobsessedteen@thenezuko@icythotsenpai

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XV: Deep in Heat

There was only one week left until the wedding and like all brides, you were growing anxious each day. The pack was bustling with energy despite them not liking who their future leader was marrying. The wedding ceremony was something they were all looking forward to because you have learned from Mina that the wolves loved to party regardless of the circumstances. Mina had been the one to tell you about the pack, allowing you to break out of your shell around them. She would always bring you along whenever she went to talk with some of her friends. They weren’t fond of you at first but with Mina’s encouragement, they began asking you random questions, mostly about human lifestyles. And of course, you were delighted to answer.

That night you had dinner with her family was a lovely one. It felt as if you two had been friends for a long time and had been reunited. She joked and laughed about silly things, was affectionate not only in words but physically as well. She was a wonderful mother and wife who cared deeply about her family and those around her, if just one person was feeling down, she would do everything in her power for that person to be right again. If that wasn’t an amazing person, you didn’t know what else would fit that description.

Katsuki had hung out with Eijirou and someone else named Hanta that night. He had black hair that stopped at his chin. He was tall, lanky and whenever he smiled, his teeth looked incredibly straight without any flaws. He seemed like a nice man. He treated you kindly and expressed his happiness for Katsuki for finding a woman like you to marry. Katsuki went back to normal after the moment you shared by the river. It was like he never had that moment of weakness and he also never brought it up again. You assumed it was still difficult for him to talk about it, so you left the topic alone for another day.

You looked in the tiny mirror that was attached to the cave wall and you dipped your finger in a jar before bringing it to your lips to paint them red. It completed your look from the blush on your cheeks to the kohl liner around your eyes.

“Oooo~ you’re looking sooooo beautiful,” Mina gushed, tail swaying as she suddenly appeared on your right. She was hunched over your shoulder peering into the mirror to gaze at your reflection. “Katsuki isn’t gonna let you walk in the morning!”

You flushed at her words and she laughed. You began to take her in, eyes roaming her figure. She was wearing the shortest skirt you’ve ever seen with a fitted cropped shirt that exposed her muscled stomach. The skirt at least flowed with her movement and wasn’t skin tight, but it accentuated her figure, giving her the illusion that she had larger hips. The color of it had clashed with her skin tone but in a good way, purple and turquoise in a camouflage like pattern drew the attention of her flushed skin. Large beads hung around her neck and jingled when she moved. She even has some around her hips and wrist.

Your clothes weren’t as revealing hers, but it was a burgundy dress that stopped slightly above your mid-thigh and hugged at your form. Your legs that were usually covered by your long skirt was now exposed. Your neck and collarbones were shown as the collar of your dress shaped around your breasts and plunged into a heart shape. Your neck was also decorated with the golden necklace Katsuki gave you and golden bangles jingled on your wrists to match it. You borrowed it all from Mina for tonight’s celebration and you couldn’t be more grateful to her.

The wolves always held a celebration the week before a wedding. It was a tradition but, honestly, you just thought it was an excuse for them to have more parties. So, you were getting ready at Mina and Eijirou’s cave. You could already hear the music blasting, drums being beaten, tambourines jingling, flutes sounding and other instruments you couldn’t quite name. It sounded like it was right outside their cave, but it was really in the courtyard where the wolves had already gathered in the late evening.

“You guys are going to kill all the men who look at you,” Ochako said, grinning from the corner of the room. She was already done, wearing a pink dress that was fitted to her form at the top but blew out at the bottom. Lately, you haven’t been seeing Ochako around. She’s been sneaking out these past last couple of weeks, not telling anyone where she’s been going so you were happy to hang out with her tonight. You wanted to catch up.

“All of us! We’re gonna make them faint!” Mina started checking herself out in the mirror, twisting and twirling around as she posed. Her reflection was being blocked by your body, yet she still pretended she could see her entire body.

“Careful, Mina, wouldn’t want baby number four to happen,” Ochako laughed and Mina shrugged.

“Wouldn’t mind it!”

���So how long is the party going to last?” You began fixing your hair, trying to decide whether to leave it down or put it up.

“How long? Pfft! We’re partying until dawn, ____!” Mina shot a finger in the air. She was a little too excited for this.

“You sure you aren’t drunk already?” Ochako placed her hands on her hips.

“No! But I seriously need a drink. I’m ready to party! Eiji’s gonna take care of the kids tonight so Kiri and I are basically free! Do you know how much free time you get when you have kids? None! Zero!”

You decided to leave it down, brushing your hair for a bit before you fluffed it to add volume.

“And yet you want to have a fourth one?”

“I said I wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind!”

“Okay guys, I’m ready,” you stood up and Mina whistled when she looked you over, ogling you in a way that would’ve made you uncomfortable if she was an older man.

“You sure you wanna wait till the wedding night? Cause Katsuki gonna pounce on you when he sees you.”

You laughed, “It’s not up for discussion. We already decided to wait and we’re both okay with that.”

“Gooosh, I couldn’t wait. You’re strong, ____,” you didn’t know if that considered you were strong on the account of you never experienced the feeling of sex. Maybe it was easier for you because you were in the unknown about it. Mina went on with expressing how excited she was about this party. You were just as excited as the last time you’ve been at a party. It was in your village during a festival. You remember the smells of food and the sounds of music, people dancing and having fun. You went with Izuku and his mother and it was the most fun you ever had. You were hoping it would be the same this time. Yes, the pack was still against the marriage but because of Mina, you had some women who tolerated you and actually spoke with you. This party was an opportunity to get to know them even more.

You followed Mina and Ochako out of the cave, saying your goodbyes to Eiji, Minato, and Mie as you passed by them. The sound of beating drums grew extremely loud the closer you came to the courtyard. The sun had completely set and the deep blue carpet with twinkling lights unraveled above you. The moon hung off the middle with half of it shrouded in dark. It was a mild night, not too cold and not too warm, which could only mean that winter was nearing its end. The snow had nearly melted from the surface, revealing the mountain’s stone flooring that clacked whenever your heel met with it. There was a path being lit up by totems on each side that led into the courtyard and the closer you got, the more excited Mina became while Ochako seemed to be looking around for something.

And when you reached the courtyard, your eyes widened in awe. There were so many wolves around, chatting, dancing, eating. There were tables set up that were occupied by some of them. Men were the ones at the drums, taiko drums, to be specific, and they pounded at them with bachi sticks, releasing a powerful sound that echoed into the air. Flutes were also being played flamboyantly, the players dancing to their own beat as they entertained the crowd dancing along with them. You assumed in the middle in front of the instrument players was the dancing area because wolves of all ages and genders were jumping, stomping, some clapping their hands, shaking their hips, hands in the air like they just didn’t care. These wolves know how to have fun!

“Oh! The bride is here!” You heard a booming voice. The music had stopped at once and soon all eyes were on you.

You gulped, not liking the attention.

But in place of drums were the wolves clapping, some howling at your presence. Mina and Ochako also began to howl as a signal of your arrival. You felt… touched. Even if some wolves did ignore you and continued what they were doing, most had greeted you with either an applause or a howl. And then the music returned, and the wolves resumed with their partying. It wasn’t long until you spotted Katsuki. He was sitting at the table in the center of all the tables, just staring at you. Eijirou was the one waving towards you which had Mina bolting over. Hanta was also there and a few other faces you haven’t seen before. But Katsuki stayed staring like he was a statue. You frowned. Was he… not impressed?

Katsuki’s brain stopped working the moment he saw you. Fuck! Damn! Shit! And all the curse words he could thought of was the only thing his brain managed do. Was he not impressed? Oh, he most definitely was impressed. He knew you were a beautiful woman but seeing you in these clothes? Hot damn. It was making him sweat. He downed the drink in his hands, giving his head a quick shake to spell the burning feel away. He watched as you made your way to him and watched how your hips swayed. Fuck! You were a Goddess. He was already praying for Fenrir to calm his heart… and his loins.

“Hey Katsuki…” you looked shy, shoulders erect, when you greeted him. A whistle sounded from one of the men at the table.

“And this is the bride I’m hearing so much about! Now I know why Katsuki’s marrying you!” He stood up, reaching over the table to hold out his hand towards you, nearly knocking over some drinks but Hanta was quick to move them. “Denki! Pack leader of the Kaminari clan. We’re allies with your pack!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, slapping his hand away before you could take ahold of it. Denki yelped, rubbing his hand as it grew red from the abuse.

“What the hell, man, can’t greet your wife?”

“Just sit the fuck down,” Katsuki growled. Eijirou and Hanta snickered. Mina then plopped herself on Eijirou’s lap and kissed him deeply to greet him. Katsuki wondered if you would do the same but you stood there, awkwardly like you weren’t comfortable in your own skin. He wasn’t expecting anything of the sorts, he knew you weren’t comfortable doing such things in front of people. Ochako just looked like she was looking for someone, but she was the least of his worries.

“Come sit,” he pulled you by the arm and into the space next to him. He was still holding onto your arm, looking you over faster than you could notice. Goddamn. Those thighs. “Dress suits you,” he really wanted to say you were fucking hot, but he’ll save it for later.

He watched you flush, relaxing slightly, eyes fluttering around to make sure no one was watching. “Thanks. You look good too.” Katsuki took pride in how you took him in, eyes lingering longer on his exposed chest. Since it was milder tonight, he decided to go without a shirt and wore his black cargo pants and white boots. He still wore fur but only around his shoulders as the rest of his cape was a red battered cloth. Several necklaces hung at his neck, like painted fangs of predators he had hunted turned into decorations for his neck. And part of his arms was covered by orange and black arm warmers, leaving his upper arm and hands exposed.

“Heh, thanks.” Katsuki smirked, wolf ears flickering, then he poured himself a drink. “Ever drank before?”

You shook your head. “First time.”

“I’m taking a lot of your firsts, huh?” Your blush spread as your eyes widened at his daring words. Thankfully he said it under his breath for only you to hear. He passed you a cup before you could say anything more. “Drink it fast.”

He watched you with his head against his knuckles. You stared down at the cup. There was only a small amount of alcohol in there compared to the size of the cup and you had glanced at Mina, watching her knock her head back to down the alcohol, shivering slightly before she laughed at something Hanta and Denki said. Ochako had already disappeared so she wasn’t present to watch you drink. You then watched Katsuki and he did the same thing this time without wincing after and after staring at the cup for god knows how long you drank it, attempting to knock your head back. But the alcohol still didn’t fall as fast and you tasted the bitter flavor on your tongue before it burned and went down your throat. You started coughing, spitting up some as your eyes began to water. Katsuki was quick. He already gave you a tissue and rubbed his hand on your back.

“That was… disgusting. How do you drink this stuff?” You spoke through your coughs and wiped your mouth clean of saliva. The bitter flavor still lingered on your tongue and you grabbed a piece of bread off the table and shoved it in your mouth to rid of the taste.

“You get used to it.” Katsuki was already on his third drink and he didn’t seem like he would be getting drunk any time soon.

Mina drank another shot before she asked you to dance.

“We’ll be here. Go have your fun!” Eijirou said before he gave Mina another sloppy kiss. You told Katsuki you would be back and gave his arm a squeeze. He waved at you, wishing he had kissed you instead.

Mina pulled you into the dance area. Just before she started dancing she asked you where Ochako went but you had no clue, so she shrugged and began to move her hips rhythm of the drums. She grabbed your hands, wanting you to join her in her dance. You weren’t much of a dancer, but the beat of the drums and the sound of the flute was doing something to you internally that you were already tapping your feet as soon as you had touched the dance floor. You decided to let go, moving your arms, feet, and hips to the beat.

“Yeah, ____! Shake that ass!” You could barely hear Mina over the drums but her large smile told you she was enjoying this. The wolves were dancing so close together that you were getting touched all around, but you didn’t seem bothered by it and neither did the wolves. They were too concerned with getting lost in the music, some of them too drunk to where all they could do was dance and not be bothered that you were next to them. They pushed against you, rubbed against you, as well as Mina’s body. You didn’t want to admit it but maybe that one drink loosened you up. You weren’t exactly drunk, but you were definitely feeling a little buzz within you and it was enough to make you forget your worries.

Katsuki watched you in the middle of the courtyard. Sometimes he would lose sight of you because the crowd was overwhelming at times but when you would appear again, he would watch you shake your body. Your hips, your waist, your everything. You moved like it was your last night alive, like Fenrir’s spirit had took ahold of you and made you wild. He liked this side of you. It was different from the tamed girl he came to know you as. He was happy to know that even humans had a wild side.

“Your wife, Kacchan, damn.”

A vein popped across his forehead when he heard Denki and he growled lowly. “If you don’t stop looking at my woman… and don’t fucking call me ‘Kacchan’”

“I know, I know, gosh, you’re forgetting I’m happily married,” Denki had a cocky grin on his face while he flashed his necklace. Katsuki didn’t know why. There was nothing to be cocky about. He was getting married next week.

“That don’t mean shit.”

“Yes, it does… besides…” he drank from his cup, gold eyes up and still well on your body. “Nothing wrong with lookin’”

Katsuki slammed his fist down on the table and it caused all the cups and plates to jump on impact. His snarl was nasty, lingering until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. His crimson eyes as sharp as his baring fangs. “Unless you wanna fucking go home blind, then I suggest you get your eyes off of my woman!”

“Relax, child!” He slammed a second fist down when a hand slapped the side of his head. He turned to look behind him already prepared to claw up whoever dared to attack him. He wasn’t surprised to see his mother and it didn’t lessen the anger he was feeling. “Don’t go threatening our allies, especially for something so minuscule as looking at your woman.”

“Don’t fucking touch me! Shit! Why are you even here?!”

“Someone has to stay sober and watch over the celebration. You can never be too careful. As future leader, you should know these things but instead you’re sitting here yelling at our allies.”

“Then go watch over the celebration somewhere else! I’m trying to enjoy my night!”

Mitsuki’s face crinkled up. “You ungrateful child! You dare speak to your mother that way!?”

“Shit, if you don’t like it then go somewhere!” Katsuki downed another cup. “Fuck, I gotta go use the bathroom.” He then got up and brushed past his growling mother, heading straight for the bathrooms. There was a cave designated for it somewhere around the courtyard. He relieved himself and as he was making his way back, he stumbled upon something that made him confused as hell.

You and Mina danced until you couldn’t dance no more. You needed a break and something to eat. So, Mina suggested to hang out with her friends. You’ve met them before. Momo and Tsuyu, but a new woman that you’ve never seen before was sitting with them at a table not too far from Katsuki’s. You couldn’t help but glance at his table while you passed by but saw that he wasn’t there. You were soon distracted by the warm faces of Mina’s friends to wonder why Katsuki wasn’t at his table. They were weary of you when you first met them but within time, they warmed up to you with Mina’s help.

“Momo! Tsu! Kyoka!” Mina gave all of them hugs and you greeted them with a wave. Kyoka looked scary from afar. She wore all black, had dark purple hair and gave off this don’t-talk-to-me vibe but the moment you greeted, she looked warm, smiling softly along with Momo and Tsuyu. It wasn’t long until you found out she was the wife of Denki, second leader of the Kaminari pack. Which surprised you at first because of how energetic he was but as you got to know Kyoka, you realized out how great they matched each other.

Together as a group, you moved to the food table, grabbing a plate and looking to see what to take. Your mouth was already salivating from the aroma and you began filling your plate with different proteins like chicken, rabbit, deer, and a bowl of rice. Lastly, you grabbed utensils which had a large pile of them left. Most wolves do without them and eat with their hands.

Mina already had her plate full of food in one hand and a large bottle of alcohol in the other. She was really trying to get drunk tonight.

Back at the table, you ate together, and they talked about random things that had happened to them in their daily lives. Mina talked about her children and how fast they were growing each day. Tsuyu talked about her interest in frogs. Apparently, she had a slight obsession with them, love to go out and study them. Momo was discussing about her recent find in tea leaves during her walks in the forest and Kyoka talked about a new song she was writing and couldn’t wait to sing. And you talked about your interest in pack which led to the girls asking about your first meeting with Katsuki.

You explained, feeling a little giddy. You haven’t told anyone about how you two met and just talking about it was making you relive some memories. You explained everything from when Katsuki chased you and then spared you and healed your wounds to you bringing him some food to help him to when you two got attacked by the hunters and chose to protect Katsuki ultimately getting you exiled from your village.

“That’s so romantic…! You guys belong together!” Mina started to slur, and her cheeks were pinker than normal. She might be already drunk.

“It’s truly a wonderful story, though I can’t help but wonder why Katsuki decided to heal you instead of… well, he was hunting you, yes?” Momo held her chin in thought.

“It does seem odd,” Tsuyu looked up with a finger to her chin, probably thinking the same thing.

“It’s love at first sight, I tell ya!! Love at first sight!!” Mina yowled, making a heart shape with her hands.

“I asked him why he did when we met the second time, but he never gave a straight answer,” Mina passed you a cup and you stared at it, contemplating if you should drink it.

“Yeah, typical Katsuki, never giving straight answers, just yelling,” Kyoka downed her drink. She looked a bit flushed as well. You assumed she was drunk, thankfully not the rowdy type like Mina.

“____! Drink! Drink!” Mina urged you when she noticed that you were taking too long to drink from your cup. You glanced down at it. Should you try it again, or should you ban yourself from tasting something so disgusting ever again? You looked back at Mina and she was making an upward motion with her hand before she began to pout, wolf ears falling down and tail drooping. She was so dramatic even when she was drunk. You downed your drink as fast as you could, shivering after at the taste and burn. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, that’s for sure.

Mina instantly refilled your cup and you waited for the burn to settle before downing that one.

Katsuki kind of didn’t know what he saw as he just saw a glimpse of it, but it looked like Ochako was hooking up with some guy in a shadowy corner of the courtyard, away from the party. He didn’t take her to be the type and he doesn’t remember whether she drank or not. Well, he didn’t care for long. He stumbled out of nowhere, there was nothing around him to make him to do so except for his past actions. Was he already drunk? Fuck, maybe he had one too many drinks. He wasn’t planning on being totally wasted tonight because he didn’t want to wake up feeling sluggish.

By the time Katsuki came back, his mother had already vanished, and he felt relieved.

“Katsukiiiii, welcome back…!” Hanta was already drunk and he was still drinking. He had an arm around Denki’s shoulders who also was bright red in the face. They were swaying together, big idiot smiles on their faces and hands full of their cups. They started singing and Katsuki could’ve sworn his hangover came early.

“Dude, they’re gone,” Eijirou laughed, no doubt feeling the buzz from his drinks because he began bobbing his head to their voices like it was actual good music coming from them. Katsuki sighed heavily at them and emptied his cup, cheeks hot from the alcohol rushing in his veins. The world began to spin in front of him and he closed his eyes to stop it. His eyebrows furrowed as if he were in pain, but it was because there were too many sounds happening at once. He didn’t know what to focus on. The voices all around him? The drums? Or the flutes? Or the pathetic singing of Hanta and Denki?

He opened his eyes. Everything looked fuzzy. He saw double of everything including the cup in his hands that Denki just refilled. He didn’t hesitate to drink it, humming at the warmness and mistaking it for the burn that simmered down his throat and chest. He felt something heavy fall on his lap and its weight pressed against his chest as something touched his shoulders. Denki, Hanta, and Eijirou all looked at him like he had two heads.

It took Katsuki a moment to realized that ‘something’ was you. You had plopped on his lap the same way Mina did to Eijirou and your arms were resting on his shoulders while your fingers lightly twirled in his hair. You were staring at him dead in his face with a distinct flush blossomed on your cheeks. Damn, were you drunk?

“Hey Katsuki…” you purred, pressing a wet kiss that had too much tongue on the corner of his mouth. Yup, you were drunk. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this in front of his friends, you probably wouldn’t even being doing this if you two were alone.

“Hey baby, what’sh… going on with you…?” Katsuki’s words were slurred and you cut him off with a heavy kiss to his lips, smacking your smiling lips against his. It was sloppy, loud, and tasted of bitter alcohol.

“Nothin’… I just missed you…” You breathed, and his hand moved to stroke your exposed thigh. Your dress has been riding up since you sat in his lap.

“Ya… same,” a sharp inhale of breath sounded from the both of you before your lips collided, tongues already in each other’s mouth, swallowing each other’s breath and saliva. A heavy moan left him, finally achieving what he wanted to do the moment he saw you. Katsuki squeezed a part of your thigh before he had his hand slip up your dress, daring to tread on areas he hadn’t felt before. And all in front of his friends.

“Hey, get a room!” Eijirou frowned, not wanting to see his best friend doing things that should be in the privacy of his cave.

“Nah, lemme enjoy the show…!” Denki waved him off, pushing him even. His grin grew wider and wider the longer his eyes roamed. Katsuki noticed and he immediately grew frustrated, breaking the kiss with a loud wet smack and growling in Denki’s direction.

“What the fuck did I say?!” You nearly fell off his lap when he suddenly sat forward but he wrapped an arm around your waist in both to save you and to flaunt his possession.

But all Denki did was laugh, not a hint of fear in his eyes when Katsuki bared his fangs.

You suddenly got off of him, pulling your dress down before you grabbed his hand and tugged his arm. “Come on...” you stared down at him, blush deepening to the point where it couldn’t just be the alcohol. Katsuki stared, almost dumbfoundedly. He then stood up immediately, the fight with Denki forgotten as he followed you away from the party. The tail behind him shaking excitedly.

Katsuki growled playfully when he thrown you against the wall, arms pinned to it as his lips instantly slobbered around your neck, alternating to your right side then left side with such haste you shivered and quaked under his hold. You gasped and felt the weakness in your knees, melting against the wall and his body as his arm around your waist held you up. One of your hands were dug into his side, desperately clinging on to anything you could feel. Katsuki kissed you to quench his hunger but it never was fulfilled. The more he felt your lips, the more he wanted it, drinking your moans, groaning and growling, grinding against your body as if to fuse with it.

His hands circled your hips, loving the feel of your smooth skin under his fingertips. He slid his right hand around your hip to your thigh, eventually placed it under your knee and lifted your leg to hold it around his hip. You continued kissing him regardless of his bold act, a hand buried in his hair while the other moved from his side to caress his muscled stomach, each individual ab a rocky hill to his clenched terrain. You continued moving north and palmed his pecs, his nipple rubbing against your hand no doubt erect cause of the pleasure brewing in him. He responded with his own knead of your breasts, engulfing one of them in his hands and giving it a firm squeeze.

He grunted softly and pulled away from your lips with a wet suck. His crimson gaze as fiery as the sun, beaming heavy with lust as they scanned your face. He loved all of your expressions, but this had got to be his all-time favorite one. You looked absolutely needy. Your skin was heavily flushed from the alcohol and the relentless assault he had on your lips. Your lips were apart, and your eyes looked hazy with the certainty that you were undeniably, incontestably, indisputably horny.

And if you would let him, he would be more than willing to help you to quell the ache between your legs.

You were convinced. Alcohol was the devil. It talked for you, thought for you, moved for you without making you realize any repercussions of your actions. It eliminated all amounts of your super ego and purely motivated your id. So of course, when Katsuki lifted your dress and pulled your underwear to the side, you pulled him closer, looking down when his fingers tread lightly on the lips of your vagina, and although you couldn’t see well because you were in a dark corner, somewhere against the mountainside near the caves, you surely felt it. You also felt that this was something you shouldn’t be doing. It went against all of your morals, having a man touch you before he even claims you, but you were too intoxicated to care, too obsessed with exploring this desire. You revisited that moment of when Katsuki first touched you when he licked your wound. That shiver you felt. The very thing that made you all too curious.

“Nn…” you bit your lip, feeling his fingers go between your folds and soon becoming slick with secretion when he neared your entrance.

“Already this fucking wet for me…” he said huskily, a smirk on his own face with reddened cheeks. But he did nothing except tease you with his words, mumbling about what he was going to do to you and how you were going to take it. It felt like he was rambling to himself, sounding nonsensical as his fingers moved slightly north in search for something. And when he found it, it had your legs trembling, the one being held up by his hand squeezed against him like you wanted to close them, toes curling in your shoes. You gritted your teeth and watched as Katsuki rubbed his fingers on your clit in a motion that was not too gentle.

He saw you watching, and he uttered out, “see this?” You looked up into his eyes. “I’mma fuck you this rough. Right here. Right now.”

“Nnngh… Ahn…” and when you dug your nails into his arm, it made him quicken his pace. Your eyes rolled, and you bit your bottom lip and started to move your hips to his rhythm, like it was his own beat of his drum. A low growl sounded, and he pressed his lips to your neck, groaning heavy with a salty after taste on his tongue.

“You’ll like that…?” He stopped to whisper, lips moving hot against your ear. You couldn’t even answer, just a string of incoherent, jumbled words that were slurred out in between gasps and moans was all you could muster out and Katsuki took that as a yes.

“Lookin’ so sexy in that goddamn dress. Fuck…”

He continued holding up your leg but with his other hand he began fumbling with the zipper of his pants. His bulge, outrageous in shape, that you thought most of it was an illusion caused by the shadows. He was so clumsy with his hand that it took him ages to zip down his pants and reveal his fuzzy blonde pubes.

“F-F-Future leader…!” The both of you froze, hearing a woman’s yell before she gasped. Katsuki didn’t even turn around, his next words came out in a roar.

“Whaaaat?!”

“I-I’m sorry to interrupt but-but… there’re a few drunk men causing a scene and they might fight,” you could see the woman behind Katsuki’s head. She stayed a good distance away but anyone in their right mind would’ve known what was happening between you two by one glance. The blush on her face was a good indicator that she knew exactly what.

“Then get the old hag—I’m busy!!”

“We can’t find her. We assumed she retired for the night,” Katsuki resumed pressing kisses on your neck and jaw, fingers on your clit moving yet again, earning a purr of his name from you. The woman gulped, not knowing whether to walk away or to try again. She was feeling ballsy tonight.

“F-Future leader…?”

“Just give me a damn minute!!” A delayed gasp left you when Katsuki’s hand left and suddenly slammed his fist on the wall next to your head. He then fumbled with the zipper of his pants, his fuzzy pubes disappearing behind the waistband. “I’ll be back for that sweet ass. Just wait for me in our cave…” he husked with a smirk so wide and handsome that your clit throbbed without a single touch. But what was more criminally was when he brought his fingers that was coated with your wetness into his mouth, licking and sucking on it, gaze held strong against your own as he commented how delicious you were. You nearly died.

He then turned around a little too fast to where he almost lost his balance, but he regained it just as quickly before murmuring to the woman:

“Now show me the way so I can knock those idiots out.”

As the Katsuki and the woman left, you saw that she glanced back at you with eyes of slight envy and adoration. You soon straightened your underwear and pulled your dress down, licking your swollen lips. You remained on the wall, in a daze as the world around you felt like it was underwater. The sound of drums and people voices were merely a muffle to your ears. The sight before you spun when you pushed yourself off the wall and swayed with every step made.

You didn’t even recognize your surroundings and wobbled into the first cave you saw. Going down the narrow curve of the hallway that was only dimly lit by the wall lanterns, you felt a stirring in your stomach with a dull ache. Your inner cheeks became lathered with saliva building up and a gag that heaved your body forward was suppressed by your hands that slapped over your mouth. Ugh. You wanted to vomit. But you swallowed back whatever nearly came up and held onto the wall before moving. The first cloth makeshift door you felt out was immediately enter by you with no warning, no notice, just an idea that you thought it was your cave you were entering in.

So of course, when you stumbled upon the sight of a nude Ochako bouncing on the lap of your childhood friend, Izuku, the alcohol in your system was enough to have you shrieking.

Ochako hurled herself off of him with a scream and Izuku yelped as his dick flung out of her. He quickly gathered the sheep wool covers, first covering Ochako and then himself with his own clothes. Just what the hell were you seeing?

They both stared at you with wide, glossy eyes in what made seconds of silence feel like hours. And when they couldn’t handle the pressure of being stared at, they both stammered out, frantically.

“I-It was my idea!”

“I invited Izuku!”

You didn’t stay for them to explain further. You ran out, stunned at what you saw but was too drunk to comprehend it, you just knew you walked into something you shouldn’t have.

You followed the walls out of the cave and the urge to gag returned, feeling the saliva building again and you suddenly hunch over, and vomit surged from within you and splattered on the floor. Ugh, it’s brown with chunks. You wiped your mouth with a grimace.

“Hey, you okay?” You then felt a hand on your back. “Is this your first time drinking? And that bonehead son of mine left you alone?”

It was Mitsuki, bending slightly and peering into your face as she began to rub your back. She looked concerned, but you saw her knitted eyebrows and frowns as ripples like you were staring at her reflection in the water and then you threw up again.

“Come on, let’s get you to your cave,” Mitsuki wrapped her arm around your body to hold you up when you were done and slowly guided you in the right direction.

Katsuki was practically growling as he settled those rowdy wolves who were trying to fight each other. He didn’t even know what the issue was about. Once that woman pointed him to the right direction, Katsuki punched them square in the face and they fell to the ground, holding their cheeks. He yelled at them until they ran with their tails between their legs.

He was furious. He was seconds away from being buried between your thighs and out of all times, the pack needed his help. What kind of bullshit was that?

He bared his teeth to the starry skies, snarls stuttering through gritted teeth. Whatever. At least he could look forward to you waiting in his cave, legs sprawled and hopefully as needy as he left you. He waddled in his steps, swaying on his wobbly legs. He was moving as fast as he could, but it felt like he was traveling through the forest to get there.

When he finally entered the cave, thrusting through the hanging cloth with so much gusto that it nearly tore off, it wasn’t a surprise to find you in bed but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be sleeping, deeply, snoring lightly with your arms and legs sprawled out and it definitely wasn’t in the way he initially thought of it.

“Fuck… are you serious?”  It felt like he missed the moment of a lifetime. You actually changed your mind and wanted to have sex. Although you were drunk and probably weren’t in the right state of mind to answer, Katsuki, being in that same boat, also just wanted to purely act on his desires. Looking so hot in that dress had awakened something in him and he knew that this final week before the wedding was going to be a cruel one.

He sighed softly, shrugged his cape from his shoulders and kicked off his boots. He pulled his pants until he was down to his underwear and joined you in bed. He slipped his arms around you and couldn’t resist kissing your neck lightly when you snuggled close to him. You mumbled something, but it wasn’t a sign that you were going to wake up. He growled lowly. He would just have to be patient. One week left. Just one week.

At dawn, a skull-splitting headache was there to greet you and it made you sensitive to everything around you, the candle lights, your slight movements, even Katsuki’s voice that sounded low, not really knowing what he said but knew it was full of concern for you.

The memories of last night came to you in bits and pieces. The first one being you discovering Izuku and Ochako’s relationship and the very last one being Katsuki fondling you against the wall. If you weren’t too busy dealing with this throbbing pain, you probably would’ve thrown yourself out of Katsuki’s arms and ran out the room in embarrassment.

After promising yourself to subdue these emotions until the wedding night, you nearly failed and allowed Katsuki to do such naughty things to you. You buried your face in your hands and he took that as you trying to get closer to him and slid his hand under your knee, pulling your leg until it hooked around his waist. You hope this wasn’t going to become a habit for him. Sure, you were pretty bold last night but you didn’t know if your heart could take feeling so exposed to him.

“I guess it’s true. Humans get these so called ‘hangovers’ after drinking,” Katsuki was softly stroking the back of your head.

“Ughhhh…. I’m never drinking again…” you whined, and he laughed, hand moving south to tread along your back.  

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Forty-Eight

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: warnings for smut. this was supposed to be a fluffy chapter :( it is fluff lite(Tm)

In the past two weeks Lev had gotten strong enough that Ash had let him out of bed. After Nik slathered Lev in sunscreen, Lev was allowed to float in the pool, hanging onto an innertube and kicking his feet lightly. Nik was treading water in front of him, so Lev leaned forward until he could pull nik close enough to kiss.

Swimming would be good exercise without wearing him out. The last time he’d pushed himself too far, his fever had risen again. No one had been happy with him about that. It’d taken days before they let him do anything again.

“Hi,” Lev said after the kiss, tracing Nik’s cheek lightly.

Nik’s smile was lopsided. “Hi.”

Lev flicked some water in Nik’s face. “I missed your smile,” Lev said, resting his cheek on the inner tube.

“I smile all the time,” Nik replied, splashing Lev back gently.

“Not really,” Lev said thoughtfully. “Not real ones. And not lately.”

Nik wrinkled his nose. “You’re a buzzkill.”

“I know,” Lev said solemnly. “It’s my job.” After a heartbeat, he tugged on Nik’s hair, flattening it. “How’s Amara?” He asked eventually. “You went to see her a few weeks ago, right? Before I got sick?”

“Last I heard she was trying to get pregnant,” Nik informed him.

Lev blinked. “Has she thought that through?” He said after a heartbeat. The words were hard, and guilt ate at him for even saying it. It- it was jealousy, and he knew it.

Nik shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s Amara. She joked about being Cin’s housewife, but who knows.”

“Yeah,” Lev muttered. He stroked Nik's hair lightly. “I wouldn’t think Cin would get behind that.”

“Well, I think for once he’s going to have to be on top.”

“Ew. I don’t wanna know about her sex life,” Lev whined, pushing at Nik’s head in a weak attempt to shove it underwater.

“You dunk like a two year old.”

“I have noodle arms,” Lev complained. “Cooked noodle arms.”

Nik patted his cheek. “You poor, pasty boy.”

Lev hummed. “You went into this knowing I was soft.” He snagged Nik’s hand and kissed the palm. “I’m fine being noodly for now. I’m safe with you, and my magic is stronger than ever.”

Nik hesitated, just a little. “Good.”

“See?” Lev pulled shadows together until he had a flower, which he tucked behind Nik’s ear.

Once again, Nik wrinkled his nose. “That’s gay.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m gay, Nik.” Lev tugged on Nik’s hair sharply. “Very gay. And I love you.”

Nik pecked him on the lips. “I know.”

Not the answer Lev wanted, but he wasn’t going to push Nik. Instead he closed his eyes and hummed instead. “How long do you think we have until Cameron needs to feed us?”

The weight of Nik’s chin on his arm was comforting. “About an hour, give or take.”

Lev nodded. “I don’t think I’ll last that long,” he admitted. “I’m getting tired.”

Nik dunked under the water, slicking his hair back as he popped back up. “Then we should probably head inside.”

“Noooo,” Lev whined. “I don’t wanna be inside. I’ve been inside for weeks.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

Lev blinked at him. “Uh. Move on the innertube so I don’t have to use energy to stay afloat?” He flushed. “It’s pathetic just hanging off a floatie for an hour made me so tired, but-” He sighed, and then closed his eyes.

Nik pushed Lev over to the steps. “Well, hop-to.”

Lev wiggled out of the inner tube, and flopped back down in it, laying across it instead. “There. Hopped.”

Nik towed him back to the deeper end. Lev hummed again, flopping a hand around until Nik took it. A low purr built in the back of his throat. He was content to lay there until Cameron came to get them.

---

Amara poked halfheartedly at the pot of noodles. “How do you know when the noodles are done again?” She complained.

Ash looked in the pot, and said, “They’re over cooked.” He dumped the pot out and handed her a new box of macaroni. “Try again.”

“You suck at teaching,” Amara said petulantly. “How am I supposed to know when they’re over cooked?”

“Did you see how those noodles were squishy like that? They’ve been cooked too long.”

“Noted,” Amara muttered. “How do I stop them from getting there?”

“Maybe actually pay attention to them?” Ash arched a brow. “You can check them periodically. You do know how noodles are supposed to feel, yes?”

“No, Ash, I only ate cereal for the past several years,” Amara snipped, before rubbing her face. “Sorry, sorry. Really tried to keep that one in.” She reached for the pot and started pouring fresh water into it. “Do you trust me to make my own coffee?”

“You do realize you can’t drink coffee when you’re pregnant, right?”

“You do realize I dropped every other bad habit cold turkey, Ashwyn, right?”

Ash looked unimpressed. “You say that like I care, Amara. Maybe you shouldn’t have bad habits in the first place.”

“Sorry, Ash, not everyone gets such a cushy life,” she snapped back, before going very quiet. “That wasn’t fair,” she finally said.

“Oh no,” Ash said, leaning against the counter. “Tell me how cushy my life is.”

“I went too far, Ash. I’m sorry.” She folded her arms and glared at the stove. “I’m just- cranky lately. And I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Ash put his chin on his fist, watching her mildly. “On me? You mean the angel who is helping you after all the bullshit you put him through? Damn right you shouldn’t be taking it out on me. Maybe get your attitude in line before I decide that this is a waste of my time, because believe it or not, you do not hold a monopoly on tragedy.”

He was right and she was being a bitch but- but nothing, she told herself. “Sorry,” she muttered. Rather than have to look at Ash, she ripped open the box and dumped the noodles in the now boiling water. “I’ll try to keep the bitching to a minimum.”

“What’s the next step?” Ash just said.

“Don’t let them clump up? Stirring it.” She grabbed a spoon and poked at the water. “Try not to zone out and get lost in an existential crisis while I wait for them to cook.”

“Good.”

----

Nik managed to shuffle into a pair of deep red sweats and a loose black tank top before disappearing from the bathroom to find Lev planted firmly on his side of the bed hugging Cameron’s pillow to his chest. His lips pursed as he looked Nik over. “Even sweats look good on you,” he said, a bit sulkily.

Despite knowing exactly what he was wearing, Nik felt compelled to look down at his clothes anyways. “Well, duh,” he said, climbing up into the bed next to him. He smacked a kiss on Lev’s cheek. “Everything looks good on me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But it bears repeating. I like stroking your ego.”

Nik settled into the bed with his hands folded over his tummy. Eyes closed, Nik felt a smile curl on his face. “It definitely likes when you stroke it, Princess,” he said, moving to lightly pinch Lev’s thigh.

Lev squeaked. “Owwwww,” Lev whined, moving to snuggle against him. Lev pressed a kiss to Nik’s jaw. “You’re bullying meee.”

Nik hummed low, a purr sitting in his chest. “You like it,” he said, unapologetically. “And you know it.” He bit down on Lev’s shoulder and grabbed his face to kiss him chastely on the lips. “You like it very much.”

Lev hummed before pulling in for a deeper kiss. “Maybe,” he allowed, pulling back. Nik tried to not jump when Lev put an unexpected hand on Nik’s chest and leaned close for another kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Nik said, a bit faintly.

Nik settled carefully against the bed when Lev rolled on top of him, just a bit more. He pressed their foreheads together. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Nik moved to tug on a lock of Lev’s hair. “Yeah,” he said. “Missed you.” He pressed his nose against Lev’s throat, inhaling his scent. It wasn’t like he had really been all that intimate with anyone lately. Cameron hadn’t touched him since before Lev died, and well, neither had Lev, really.

“It feels like I missed you too,” he said. “Even if I don’t remember it.”

Nik wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he did what he did best and distracted them both with more kissing. There was a very obvious boner pressed against Nik’s leg but Nik wasn’t able to stop himself from shrinking back when Lev’s hand went under his shirt.

When Lev stopped immediately, Nik blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“I- yeah,” Nik said.. He wasn’t sure if he were telling the truth or not, in all honesty, and he couldn’t explain the growing tightness in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, again, feeling the wobbliness in his voice.

Nik couldn’t explain the horrible feeling twisting in his stomach when Lev pulled away from him so his erection wasn’t pressed against him anymore. “It’s okay,” he said, reaching for Nik’s face. He stopped in his tracks when Nik pulled away even more. “We can wait.”

“No,” Nik said, voice rising. “We don’t have to. I said I wanted to.”

Lev blinked at him. “You can change your mind, Nik. It’s allowed.”

Nik’s face felt uncomfortably hot. He opened and closed his mouth several times. “No,” he retorted, sitting up and scrubbing his face harshly. “It’s not. Not with me.” He got up from the bed and damn near ran face first into Cameron coming into the bedroom. “Will you get out of my way,” Nik snapped.

“No,” Cameron said, with that irritatingly mild calm. He carefully eyed Nik and then Lev before coming back to rest fully on Nik. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, I think,” Lev said. “Nik, we really don’t have to have sex.”

Nik growled and tried pushing his way past Cameron once more. “Let me go.”

Cameron needed no further prompting and took a smooth step to the side and let Nik storm past him out to the pool.

It was lit by faint lights, illuminating the clear water. Nik sat on the edge of the pool with his knees pulled up to his chest as he glared at the water and thought about everything and nothing at all.

---

Lev watched Nik leave, sadness and guilt twisting him up inside until he thought it might just crawl right up out of his throat and strangle him. He tugged one of Nik’s pillows into his lap and watched Cameron instead.

Cameron’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You want to tell me what just happened?”

“Nik and I were... we were making out, and he was okay with it, and then I went further, and he wasn’t, and he got upset when I backed off instead of pushing him.” Lev frowned, tucked his arms around himself. “Did- did something happen while I was dead? Or- is it something else?”

Cameron thought about that, pursing his lips. “A little bit of A, and a little bit of B,” Cameron said, pausing. He eyed Lev. “You know."

It took a second, but Lev nodded slowly. “He’s pregnant,” Lev said quietly. Jealousy rose up quickly, but he shoved that down just as fast. “And he doesn’t want us to know.”

“Mm. And I haven’t had sex with him since before you died.”

Oh. Lev blinked hard, staring at the bed. “I see,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

Lev nodded slowly. “Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll take care of him, then. Right?”

Cameron leaned against the doorway. “Of course. Are you planning on telling him you know?”

That made Lev hesitate. “If he wanted me to know, he would have told me,” he said, as if he didn’t know he was projecting. “He can tell me when he wants to.”

Cameron looked vaguely satisfied. “Good. Do you want to go sit with Nik?”

“Is that wise?” Lev asked. “Should I give him space?”

“If you want,” Cameron said.

“I want to go comfort him,” Lev admitted. “I just don’t know if it’d help or make this worse.”

“Well. Consider what Nik did the last time he got upset and no one comforted him.”

Lev had no idea what he was talking about, but he slid off the bed carefully. “I should go see him then,” he said.

Cameron offered him his arm, so Lev ducked underneath it and tucked himself into Cameron’s side. He slid his arm round Cameron’s waist, and let Cameron help him to the pool.

He pulled away when he saw Nik, and settled on the edge of the pool beside him, bumping Nik’s shoulder lightly with his. He didn’t even say anything, just let Nik lean against him.

---

The next morning, Nik took off, leaving Lev with Cameron. Cameron was being a good sport about it, didn’t even seem to be too annoyed about it. That was how Lev found himself sitting on a piano bench beside Cameron.

“How much do you remember from the books you were studying before you died?”

Lev hesitated. “A little.” He ran his fingers over the keys briefly, reverently, before plinking out a simple lullaby. The first song the book Cameron had gotten him had taught him. “Not exactly classical, but...”

Cameron listened to him as he played it through once more, and then had Lev run through a C Major scale. When Lev stumbled, not as confidant in his ability, Cameron made him try again. And again. And again, until he got it right.

Lev couldn't deny the little spark of pleasure he got when he finally met Cam’s standards. He let out a small purr and leaned against Cameron.

“Can you play me something?” Lev asked before Cam could ask him to play another scale. He gave Cameron a small, playful smile. “I won’t talk this time.”

Cameron lifted a brow, ever so slightly, and then started to play a simple tune. Simple for Cameron, at least. Lev leaned against him, closing his eyes as he listened.

---

Nik found himself walking through Amara’s shitty apartment building to her apartment, only to push open the brand new door and find it completely empty. “Are you serious,” Nik said. “Now she’s gone too.”

He had turned around only to hear a very faint, “I’m back here, St. Nikolas.”

That got Nik to at least wander through the bare apartment until he found her laying on her back where her bed once was. He leaned against the doorframe. “So….. trying for the minimalist look?”

“Cin decided to buy me a house.”

Nik pushed off the doorframe and came over to lay down next to her on the floor. He folded his hands over his tummy. “And the world has not yet ended,” Nik said, solemnly, eyes closing. “How does that bitter taste of your pride feel?”

“It’s stinging like a motherfucker,” she said. And in an even whinier tone, she said, “He replaced my furniture.”

“If it makes you feel better, Cameron replaced like eighty percent of my wardrobe when I moved in.”

“Cameron’s a snob,” she said, bitterly. “Cin’s just trying to take care of me.”

“What a hardship. Poor you.”

“I had a shitty month, let me have my pity party.” After a moment of silence she muttered, “i’m taking cooking lessons from Ash.”

Nik choked on his spit. “Oh stars, why on earth are you learning from Ash. You know he has the same amount of patience as he does eyesight.”

‘Cause he offered,” she said. “Learning to cook was one of his conditions for him helping me get pregnant.”

“Well you could have asked me,” Nik mumbled. “It’s not like I’ve bought you hundreds of dollars on groceries and made you food so you didn’t waste away.”

“Lev was sick and dying and I wasn’t going to bother you.”

“See,” Nik said, folding his hands behind his head. “Excuses are only going to get you enough good graces before I just kick your ass for the hell of it.”

“Do you want me to tell you all the things I have going on right now?”

“I want you to be my friend,” Nik said, irritably. “I don’t see you anymore.”

Amara fell quiet. “I’m having a really rough time right now and things are hard on you too. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Nik wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just curled on his side and sidled up next to her. “Life sucks.”

Again, she was quiet for a long moment. “I want to tell you something, but... I don't want you to feel guilty, or... bad for me, or any of that. Shit sucks, but- just- are you in an okay headspace?”

Well. Nik wasn’t too sure if he had ever been in a good headspace, especially the last five months. But he also didn’t want Amara to think he didn’t care about anything other than himself. “Sure.”

“I miscarried last month. That’s why I’m asking Ash for help.” Her tone was flat, perfectly even.

“Oh.” Nik’s voice was very small, especially when he thought about how he was keeping his own… pregnancy from everyone else. He was lying to everyone. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and rested his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You know,” She said. “Occupational hazards.”

“Yeah,” he said, faintly.

“My pedigree doesn’t help much, either.”

“Oh who cares about your ‘pedigree’. I’m sure Ash will be able to get you knocked up and will lord it over you for all time.” He closed his eyes. “If I can get knocked up with everything I have put in my body, I’m sure you will be able to, too.”

“I guess.”

“I know.”

----

Cameron wouldn’t be Cameron if he wasn’t so blunt, but Lev was still surprised when Cameron flat out asked if he wanted to have sex. It took Lev a few seconds to process.

“I- uh. Yes?” Lev shook himself mentally. “Yes,” he added more firmly. “I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard. I miss it.”

Cameron lifted a brow. “Well at least we know that hasn't changed.”

Lev flushed deeply. “Was I supposed to?” he grumbled when he didn’t know what else to say.

“You tell me.”

Lev thought on that for a moment, and then decided to take Cameron’s hand instead of responding. “So... sex?” he asked, not quite meeting Cameron’s eyes.

“You didn’t answer me.”

Lev’s bottom lip popped out in a pout. “Change isn’t always bad,” he hedged, before admitting, “But I’m not upset I still like sleeping with you.”

Cameron snorted. “Of course you’re not.”

Lev ran his thumb over the back of Cameron’s hand, and then leaned close and kissed Cameron’s cheek. “I miss our normal,” he said quietly.

The look on his face was neutral enough that Lev hesitated, but Cameron just kissed Lev’s palm gently. After that he started pulling at Lev’s clothes. A purr built up in Lev’s throat, but he just started working on the buttons of Cameron’s black button down.

It didn't take much to get Lev undressed the rest of the way, and Cam herded him back to the bed easily before he took off his pants. Once he was on the edge of the bed, Lev reached for Cameron’s cock, stroking lightly. Cameron leaned forward until he could start kissing down Lev’s neck, sending little shivers down Lev’s spine.

This was something Lev had missed. Cameron's lips on his skin, the familiar weight of him in Levs hand as he tipped his head to the side for Cameron.

When Cameron was fully hard in Lev’s hand, he eased Lev back on the bed. Anticipation had his heart tripping over itself. Lev wrapped his arms around Cameron’s neck, arching his own in offer. The teeth pressed against him were more than welcome. When he tried to press his hips against Cameron, Cameron held him down, biting down just a little harder until Lev went still.

Then Cam flipped Lev over, sliding a pillow under his hips to support them. Unsurprisingly, Cameron took his time, working Lev open like he had all the time in the world while his erection nudged the back of Lev’s thighs. All the while, Cameron’s mouth traced patterns across Lev’s back and shoulders.

Lev gave a small moan as Cameron’s fingers pressed deeper. Cameron’s teeth latched onto his shoulder, even as his fingers went deep as he could. When Lev got tired of waiting, of the careful stretching, he tried to push back.

Rather than let him, Cameron rolled him onto his side. Once again, Cameron’s hands slid along him. Each caress had Lev’s omega vibrating. This was Lev’s alpha holding onto him, kissing the back of his neck, nipping at his skin.

Cameron eventually hitched Lev’s leg up so he could press in, slotted right up against Lev’s back as he bottomed out. When Lev moaned again, eyes half shut, Cameron kissed under his jaw. The stretch was welcome, familiar. It felt like home.

The only thing missing was Nik.

Cameron set a slow, firm pace. Considering Lev had been dead a month ago... it was definitely for the best. With how Cam was holding him, Lev didn’t have to do much but arch against him, panting softly. The hand holding his leg up slid up slowly, until Cameron could wrap it around Lev’s dick.

Neither of them rushed anything. Lev was happy to revel in Cameron’s voice in his ear as Lev himself let out soft, breathy groans. Ever since he’d come back, it’d felt like there was a little distance between him and Cameron. Having this again soothed the tiny bit of worry he had that he’d done something.

It wasn’t until Cameron was knotted in Lev that Cam let him come, stroking Lev to completion. As pleasure washed over Lev, a purr built in Lev’s throat. Cameron wrapped an arm around him, keeping him close.

“I love you,” Lev whispered, eyes closed fully.

“Sleep,” was all Cameron said.

Lev nodded slowly. Expected, really, and the sex had left Lev more than a little exhausted.

---

Nik made it home and he rubbed his face at how tired he was. Maybe he could make it up to Lev… somehow for not sleeping with him the night before. He couldn’t count a single time when he would have done something like that to someone he was in a relationship with. It wasn’t like Nik was just someone to change his mind about sex, but here he was, telling his back from the dead boyfriend that he didn’t want to sleep with him.

Nik wandered the house until he decided to go find Lev, only to find him passed out on Cameron’s knot.

“Oh.”

Cameron looked up from the back of Lev’s neck, but Nik was already turning around and leaving. That of course, did not stop Cameron from coming after him and yanking Nik to a stop. “Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” Nik muttered under his breath.

“Becaues I don’t feel like telling Lev you disappeared after finding us post-fuck.”

“Why would he care?” Nik said. “I disappear all the time, right?”

Cameron had the audacity to roll his eyes. “You know damn well what I mean,” he said, annoyed. “Come to bed.”

Nik turned back around and walked right back through the house and right back through the front door to get back in his car and drive.

---

Amara put her phone down, sighing softly. “I’ve got to go,” she told Ash. “Nik emergency.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nik took off, apparently. And I've been tasked with finding him.” Amara stared longingly at the pot of mac and cheese she’d finally made correctly. “Can I come back for that? I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Sure, but put it away,” Ash replied, already pulling out his phone to text Cameron. “Give me updates about Nik.”

“Yeha, yeah.” She dumped the pot into a tupperware, and fit it in the fridge. “Thanks,” she added, right before ducking out the door.

It took her a couple of hours, but she tracked Nik back to his parent’s territory. When she realized he’d chosen to hide out in a fucking cave, she hesitated. The water was waist high at the deepest, but this was just the entrance. It’d get deeper the further in she went and Amara knew if she stepped foot in it she would freeze up and not move a fucking inch.

With a sigh, she spread her wings, stretching them carefully before she started to climb the walls. She used her wings to keep her balance as she inched along, digging her nails into the stone until she found a rock she could settle on. The water was far, far too close for her liking, but she crouched anyway, looking around until she saw Nik’s hair pop up.

Nik looked startled, ducking under briefly, before popping back up. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for you,” Amara shot back. “You worried your alpha.”

“Doubtful,” he said.

“He sent me after you. He worried.” She patted the rock beside her. “Come on.”

“No.”

Amara scowled. “Fine,” she grumped. “Tell me what’s wrong then.”

“Nothing.”

“Nikolas, I am inches away from water and I want to puke. Tell me what’s wrong before I get bitchy.”

“If you hate water so much, then go home. You’re not needed. You can tell Cameron to come get me if he wants me.” Nik looked like he might duck under the water.

After sucking in a slow breath, she said, “I’m here, and I’m not leaving you alone. Talk to me, please.”

Nik watched her, his face almost closed off. He looked tired, and she didn’t blame him. “You don’t need to be worried about me. You have your own shit to deal with. I’ll be fine.” The smile he fixed on his face was far too bright to be real. “See? I’m not even drinking.”

“Yeah, and you’re hiding in your depression cave again.” Amara sat up straighter, wrapping her arms around herself. “Talk to me, Nik. Unless you want me to go first.”

Nik frowned, but at least that was a real reaction. “This is not my depression cave,” he said.

“Hm.” Amara wrinkled her nose. “You’re dodging my question.”

Nik ducked under the water, staying under long enough Amara grew nervous. Finally he popped back up and said, “I already gave you my answer.”

Amara closed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll just wait here then.”

“You do that.”

Nik started swimming again, so Amara settled down to wait him out, keeping her eyes shut tight. Maybe if she pretended hard enough, she could ignore that she was in a cave flooded with water.

Eventually he crawled out of the water and took her hand. “Come on.”

Amara looked down at the water. It’d gotten more shallow, but... “Um. The tide can go out a little more, can't it?”

“I mean, we can, but we’ll be here a hell of a lot longer.”

Amara hesitated visibly. “You can’t carry me,” she said. “And I- I don’t know.”

Nik waited patiently until she was able to unfold and step in the water. Just that had her freezing up, grabbing at Nik for support and holding her phone up above the water, even if her feet touched the ground. NIk tugged her along carefully.

By the time they reached the entrance, she was trembling. Without letting go of his hand she broke into a sprint, dragging him through the last of the water until she got halfway up the beach. Only then did she stop, breathing hard.

“You didn’t have to go in there,” Nik said.

Amara shot him a glare, before pulling him into a hug. “You needed me.”

Nik was trembling too, and she hated it. “Well you don’t need me,” Nik said, voice just as shaky. "You’re not the selfless one in any relationship.” He pulled back, eyes bright. “Except maybe with your sister, but she doesn’t count. So stop reminding me that I’m a shitty person, I get it.” With the last two words breaking, Nik started across the beach towards the city.

“Nikolas. Nikolas.” Amara followed after him. “Like hell I don’t need you. You think best friends grow on fucking trees?” She grabbed his hand, jerking him to a stop. “You’re not a shitty person. Who the fuck told you that? I’ll beat the shit out of them.”

Nik yanked his hand back. “I’m the one who said that, so you’re going to have to beat me and you can’t do that, can you?”

“Not today I can’t,” she shot back. “What got your panties in a twist, Nikolas?”

“We both know I don’t wear panties.”

“Why the fuck is Cameron sending me after you like you’re a lost puppy, Nik? Why aren’t you with your mate?”

“Because I can’t sleep with him,” Nik shot back, before continuing up the beach.

Amara blinked several times, before hurrying after him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You asked.”

“Why does it matter if you can or can’t sleep with my cousin, Nik?” She fell in pace beside him. “Sex isn’t your only selling point.”

“Look at me. Sex is my only selling point.”

“Not to Lev, you idiot.”

“No, of course not to Lev. But Lev is a blind idiot sometimes. Lev believes in fairy tales, and fairy tales don’t exist.”

“I mean I can call him and ask him exactly why he loves you, but you’re too bullheaded to believe it even from the overly honest horse's mouth.”

“Honesty isn’t the same as idealism, Amara.”

“Nikolas, you’re an idiot.” She stumbled over something in the sand. “Would you stop? Stop running away and stop deflecting.”

Nik caught her before she face planted. “I’m not running,” he said. “You need to learn how to walk.”

“I was talking about how you hid in a fucking cave.”

“I didn’t hide.”

“Did you even tell Lev you were leaving?”

“Will you Shut up?” Nik yelled. “Lev is fine. He’s with Cameron. Cam’s not going to let him die again.”

Amara snapped her mouth shut, pulling to a stop. He matched her halt with the same abruptness, and turned around.

“How did you know where I was?”

Amara shrugged uncomfortably. “Cameron asked me to find you, and you needed me. I just knew. Sort of. The direction, anyway, until I found the cave.”

“Fine. Hotel’s this way.” He continued to storm off, leaving Amara to trail behind him.

Amara trotted after him, willing to take the minor success. At least he wasn’t telling her to fuck off. Yet.

It turned out that he had a room already set up, and the staff seemed to recognize him. A small smile tilted up on Nik’s face as a slight black haired woman came instantly up to Nik and just pinched his cheek. “You’re dripping water everywhere, mi’jo.”

Nik kissed her hand. “Is my room ready?”

“Of course,” she said, pulling him into a hug. Nik nearly melted into the woman that was a solid head shorter than him. When she pulled back, she looked Amara over and gave her a firm look, but said, “I’ll bring you dinner, as well.”

Amara blinked, looking between the two. She stepped closer to Nik, just a little, and took his hand. Maybe it was a little bit of posturing, but she got a small look of approval, so maybe it was a good thing.

The woman kissed Nik’s cheek and then sent them on their way. Again Amara just trailed after Nik, clocking his visibly better mood as she clung to his hand. She only let go once the door to the room was shut.

Nik flopped on the bed. “Dinner should be up in about ten minutes. I hope you haven’t eaten today.”

“No,” Amara said mournfully. “Ash was teaching me how to make mac n cheese and I only made one edible pot. I left it behind to come find you.”

“How basic,” Nik said, matching her tone.

“It was boxed mac n cheese too,” she grumbled, landing on the bed beside him.

Nik patted her knee. “See, if you had me teaching you,” he said, “you’d be learning real, tasteful food. But no, you had to learn from the blind white boy. I bet it was as awful as I think it is.”

Amara muttered under her breath before saying, “I didn’t get to taste it, thanks. And if you wanna teach me so bad, do it. I’m unemployed and have nothing better to do.”

Nik threw his arm over his eyes. “Like you’d actually listen,” he mumbled under his breath.

“If you don’t want to you can just say that. I spent all day with a snippy Ash, I don’t wanna hear it from you too,” Amara said.

“Did I say that,” NIk snapped, glaring at her from under his arm. “No, I did not.” He sat up and stalked over to the towels and started drying his hair. “If my attitude is so bad, then you can leave. I am not holding you here against your will, for fucks sake. Let Cin go lick your bruised ego. I’m tired.”

Amara stared at him for a long moment, propped up on her elbows. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” she admitted. “Look, we’re both cranky, but- I don’t want to leave.”

Nik shot a dark look over his shoulder at her, but started undressing out of his tank top and let it fall to the floor. “”Yeah? News to me,” he said, moving to the dresser and rummaging through it. He grabbed another white tank top, but froze when his focus shifted to the mirror over the dresser.

Amara got to her feet. “I’m sober Nikolas. I have been for four months. I wasn’t nice before I stopped drinking nonstop.” She hesitated, and walked up behind him. “You okay?”

Nik touched his stomach. “Nooo,” he said in a small voice, and then, to her horror, he started to cry.

“Ah fuck,” she mumbled, and pulled him in a hug. “C’mere.”

Nik all but melted against her, crying into her shoulder. She petted his hair.

“Hey. It’ll be okay,” she promised.

“It’s not,” he said, somehow crying harder. “I can’t keep not saying anything when I’m showing.”

“Sure you can.” she tried. “You don’t owe anyone anything.”

Nik didn’t say anything and just wiped his face before moving back over to the bed and curling into a ball. Before Amara could follow him, there was a knock on the door. She opened it, only to find the woman from earlier there with a tray piled high with food. When she saw Nik was crying, however, she all but shoved the tray at Amara and went to check on Nik.

Amara carefully settled the tray on the dresser and looked back at the bed. The woman was whispering to Nik in Spanish, petting his hair comfortingly. Amara picked up on some of what she was saying; she wasn’t fluent, but after being best friends for so long she had to learn the basics.

Instead of eavesdropping, she turned back to the food. She took a bite, and then gave a small groan. “Stars that’s good,” she exclaimed, before looking back at them guiltily. “Sorry.”

Nik flinched a little.

“Fuck. Right. Ignore me, Nik. Go back to crying. According to Lev it helps.”

To Amara’s surprise, the woman got up, only to smack Amara with a spoon. “Watch your language,” Amara was told.

“Yes ma'am,” Amara promised automatically.

She was given a firm look, but Nik was already the center of attention again. Amara went back to nibbling, slowly starting to realize how hungry she was. When she was told to bring a plate, she did, and sat down to watch the woman coax Nik into eating.

“Do you want me to leave?” Amara asked Nik lightly.

Nik took a bite now that he was sitting up. “No,” he mumbled.

Amara nodded slowly. “Then I’ll stay.” She grinned at him just a little, as she settled on the bed, tray on her lap for easy access. “Saint Nikolas.”

---

It was several hours later that Amara managed to get home. The house felt… large, and empty. Amara put the mac and cheese away, and tracked down Cin. Her hybrid was sprawled on their new bed, wings spread far enough they brushed the floor.

Amara settled herself on his back, tucked between his wings, and sighed.

“How was the cooking lesson?”

“Well, I didn’t learn anything you can eat,” she said tiredly, shoving her face in his neck. “But I made some mac n cheese.”

“Can I try some?”

Amara moved off so he could roll over. “I don’t know if you want to. Dairy and grains. Your insides would never forgive you."

Cin ran his fingers through her hair. "Worth it, if you've made something edible."

"Mmm. No. I'll get Ash to teach me to make something you can eat." She bit his nose. "Look, I'll even text him now."

Cin took the phone from her and chucked it across the room. "No. You're mine now. You've been running around for days. I want your attention." He tugged her closer, snuffling against her neck until she laughed. "You've been too stressed lately."

Amara huffed, settling against him. "Things will settle eventually."

Cin hummed, the sound becoming a rumbling purr in his chest. "Yes. They will."

They had to be.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chap.6

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 6 “Blue Sky Athletic” out now!

AO3 Link

The hotel room was quiet, the Italian sun hadn’t risen yet. Illumi sat himself up in bed and started to mindlessly comb through his hair. He had excused himself from the fashion show the previous night as early as he could. Because he couldn’t stand the lights. The music. The smells. The people.

Yet he was going to return the next night. There were contacts to be made, images to be upheld, a new name to be made for himself…

And he didn’t have to be alone.

A single text message to his butler:

“Illumi: Get me the keys to a Mercedes AMG GT Black series and leave me be the rest of the day.”

.

.

.

Killua had run away from home for the first time when he was 10 years old, with the intent to stay away. His father had scolded him about neglecting his studies, and in response he snuck out through his window with a backpack stuffed with a few clothes and snacks. In the end, a butler had caught him before he was able to sneak through the fencing around the large property.

He was undeterred and proceeded to perfect his means of sneaking away from the mansion. By the next summer he was able to consistently make it into town and stay there for an hour or two before a butler eventually found him. Though he wanted to, he never went further than that. Afterall, where was he supposed to go? A young boy traveling without adult supervision would attract attention almost immediately, and it wasn’t like he had friends he could visit (And the risk of running into his father or grandfather when visiting Alluka was too great).

But what if he had a place to go? He was older now, old enough to travel by himself for sure, and money wasn’t a problem as long as his lazy brother would stay blissfully unaware of his credit card expenses. Neither Illumi, his father, nor grandfather were home to surveillance him. Milluki barely registered what happens in and around the mansion. Kalluto was young enough to be bribed and trust his big brother when he tells him to keep quiet.

The setup couldn’t get more perfect. Now or never.

Killua shouted down the hall that he didn’t want dinner, peppered with swears here and there to underline anger, and he told Kalluto that if anyone were to set food in front of his door, he was free to take it for himself or Milluki. His CD player blasted metal music loud enough to give the impression of a moody teen dealing with anger issues, but not too loud as to prompt his mother to come in and turn it off herself.

Another cautionary glance down the hallway before he closed and locked his bedroom door from the inside. Now or Never.

Killua grabbed his pre-packed duffle bag and executed his well-practiced escape via window. His mother would regret the day she removed the bars framing it, foolishly thinking that Killua was ‘grown up’ enough to stop his escape attempts.

A cold breeze grazed his face, and the young boy granted himself a couple of seconds to take it in, wild hair gently swaying in the wind. Of course, he was not going to leave forever. It would only be a matter of time before someone went to retrieve him and lock him back in, chiding him about his ‘responsibilities’ that he couldn’t care less for.

But I won’t make it easy. With that thought, he gave the mansion one last middle-finger, before he quickly turned and headed towards the edge of the property that was closest to town. By now he had the surveillance pattern of the guard dogs memorized and knew exactly where the brick fence was covered by enough ivy to enable easy climbing. Soon enough, Killua was treading through the thick forest in a steady pace. He tried to listen for signs of someone coming after him despite his heart drumming louder in his ears.

Usually he’d be calm, collected, non-caring for breaking out. But this time was different. This time he had a destination in mind, wouldn’t be collected so easily. The grip around his phone tightened. He wondered how long it would take someone in the house to notice. Who would be sent after him; A butler? Would Illumi be called back? His father? How severe will the punishment be-

A branch snapped into the boy’s face, pulling him back from wherever his thoughts were about to wander. The lights of the town became clearer in his sight with every step. It wasn’t a big city by any means, but he didn’t need it to be. All he needed was a cab driver to who accepted credit and didn’t ask question.

In the end, an older cabdriver, he must have been in his sixties already, shrugged carelessly at the request of the young boy to be driven to the airport, mumbled something about rebellious youth and getting paid regardless. Killua discarded the duffle bag into the trunk of the car and sat himself down in the backseat as he fumbled with his phone. The Radio played some repetitious top 40s song about being young and freedom and friendship and following your heart, and he couldn’t help but snort at how grossly it fit.

The sun set against the horizon, the town steadily disappeared behind him, until it was completely out of sight. Every new meter the car cleared was the furthest Killua had ever made it away from home alone.

Ping.

His phones alarm startled Killua out of his thoughts once again. A single discord notification.

GON: Good morning! =v=

The runaway looked through the windshield of the car, in the distance an airport started to come into form.

Kil: morning, did u sleep okay?

GON: Like a baby :p

GON: How’re you?? Did you get your PC back yet?

Kil: about that actually

He handed the driver his/Millukis credit card and lifted his bag over his shoulder. No one ever told him how much to tip a cabby, so he assumed 50% was about right.

Kil: remember how you told me to give you a heads-up if i ever came over so you could clean?

GON: Yeah?

Killua took a quick peace-sign selfie in the large entrance of the airport, in front of the arrival/departure board, and send it promptly in their chat.

Kil: get cleaning.

.

.

.

Gon paced around the house as if driven mad, he mumbled about preparations, and food, and accommodations, more to himself really than to Mito who sat at the table, gentle smile on her lips.

“Gon, it’ll still be almost an entire day till he gets here. I’m sure he won’t be disappointed. Now remind me again, his parents are really okay with such a spontaneous visit to a virtual stranger across the globe?” Her smile was warm, but her eyes drilled threats into him.

“We’re not virtual strangers! We’ve been talking for months; I probably know him better than any of his siblings!”

“I’d just feel a bit more at ease if I could have talked with his parents in advance. What if he has any illnesses or allergies I’d need to be mindful of? What if there’s an emergency and I need their contact information?”

Instead of admitting that he did not think of all of that, Gon chose to smile with more confidence, “I’ll just make sure there’s no emergencies! I’m not a little kid anymore!” He stepped closer to where she was seated and rested with his arms and head on the table. “He’s a really good friend and hasn’t been feeling well. I think this could be really good for him, and it’s not like I have many other people to hang out with around here. But if you are really that concerned, I promise that he’ll write down his parents’ number and address! So, it’s okay, right?”

The woman sighed in defeat and brushed through Gon’s unruly hair. “You really are a troublemaker with best intentions. Don’t make me regret this.”  The young boy beamed in response and pulled his guardian into a hug. Before he could promise that he wouldn’t, she raised her voice again, “But don’t think this will get you out of studying.”

Gon groaned in agony, though it was quickly followed by another laugh. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I do, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded once in a while. Now go fetch the cot from the garage, or do you want your friend to sleep on the floor?”  

With an energetic nod, he sprinted out the room, leaving Mito alone in the room as she tapped her fingernails against her cup of tea. Her eyes wandered to an old picture of Gons father. He’s becoming just like you. She didn’t know if the thought made her want to laugh or cry.

.

.

.

Gon was a bundle of nerves the entire drive to the airport. Killua had offered that he’d take a taxi from the airport to Gons home, but Mito insisted that they’d meet at the airport (“Just to be sure, you know?” And Gon didn’t know).

He tapped his fingers at increasing speeds against the interior of the red Subaru XV, and watched as the scenery outside transitioned slowly from deserted dirt roads to busy highways to the even busier parking area of the airport.  

Would Killua even recognize him? Would he be able to recognize Killua? He’d like to think so, but then again, people always said celebrities look different face-to-face than on TV. His heart was beating hard and fast against his chest, but a smile never left his face, strained in anticipation of the best kind.

Mito sat down in a designated waiting area, exhausted from a long drive. She considered asking Gon to sit down as well but disregarded the thought as he fidgeted and started to pace again. Excess energy needs to be let out somehow.

“The plane has already landed, right? Shouldn’t he be here already?” he blurted out, nervously bouncing on his heels.

“He’s probably still waiting for his luggage, things like this take ti-“

“Gon!” Mito got cut off by a voice that shouted his name in such a familiar way, so recognizable that it was almost startling.

He whipped around, and his eyes caught onto the silver hair in the distance immediately. There was Killua. He looked like he had just jumped out of any of the pictures that Gon had ever seen of him, messy hair, bright eyes, pale skin, and a confident yet laidback smile.

It took about 5 seconds before Gon had cleared the distance between them, and he wrapped his arms around the other boy in a big hug. Killua hesitated for a moment, before he returned the hug, and patted Gon on the shoulder.

“It’s really you!”

“Who else could it be?” Killua snorted.

“I don’t know! But it’s still so weird to, just, have you here now!”

They spent what felt like an eternity looking at each other, laughed and giggled and commented on each other’s features, more defined than any picture could do. Killuas eyes sparkled in the low airport light, and Gon tried to burn every detail of his face into his memory, his long eyelashes, the creases of his eyes, and his sharp smile. Everything looked so natural, so right, and Gons heart stumbled over itself.

“So, would you like to introduce your friend to me, Gon?” As Mito spoke up, both boys pulled out of the hug with a jump.

Killua quickly held out his hand and stood straight, “I’m Killua, thank you so much for letting me stay over for a bit, miss. It’s nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand with a giggle. “You can just call me Mito or Auntie, alright? And it’s nice to meet you too, thank you for getting along so well with this little troublemaker.”

Gon felt heat rush to his cheeks but couldn’t bark a complain before Mito ruffled a hand through his hair. “How about we all grab something to eat, and then had home. You must be starving, Killua. Do you like burgers?”

The boys cheered in unison, and the group headed towards a fast-food chain.

And if Gon didn’t notice how easily he and Killua fell into step next to each other, too deeply invested in conversation about flights and food and seemingly the entire world, Mito surely did.

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

Bloodlines mean a lot to any Havenite, whether you were actually born in the city or not.

Jak let the sounds of the Naughty Ottsel wash over him. He kept his forehead down on the table surrounded by his arms, a glass of whatever Daxter grabbed for him from the bar in his hands. Occasionally his ears twitched as he registered a conversation from elsewhere in the bar, but for the most part he let his mind drift in a sort of laze reminiscent of his time on the beaches of Sandover. Here Jak remained simply Jak. Not King Jak. Not Jak of the House of Mar. Just simple, old Jak who happened to absorb dark eco like water and turn into a monstrous beast when angry.

Jak never felt more grateful that only a select number of people even know about the kid, let alone the kid and him being the same person almost thirteen years apart.

“You know the Commander is looking everywhere for you?”

Jak huffed. “Isn’t everyone?” he grumbled, morosely, but didn’t bother to look up at the young Underground soldier Daxter all but adopted. He could hear her laugh faintly at his misery, or possibly at the irony of the situation. Jak sighed and shifted until his chin rested on the table. He debated the merits of nudging the drink over to tilt against his lips; could he maintain the necessary balance or would he spill the precious mixture all over the table?

“No one knows you’re here, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she said. From this angle Jak could see her chin nestled in the palm of her hand, and he had to fight down a rather violent flinch. He couldn’t stop his ears’ twitch back, even if he could contain his facial reaction.

Fire-bright, darkly amused stared down at him; a face nestled on a hand with a grin he’d begun to loathe, a twisted smile, pain—so much pain, so much fear, hatred—he couldn’t stop it. He tried. He tried.

She sighed, shifted, and turned her head away.

“Sorry.”

Observant, Jak grumbled internally. He let his head fall back against the table, if only to hide the sudden burst of shame that wanted to grace his features.

“I know I look like him.”

Jak snorted.

“You and a prick,” Jak mumbled.

“Ain’t that the truth?” she laughed self-depreciatingly, and Jak could hear her tug up the red scarf that almost all members of the Underground seemed to wear. He wondered, not for the first time, if it actually marked them or not.

Jak also wondered if the red scarf he wore—the one now tightly wrapped up like a hood over his hair, the one he’d worn for over two years now—meant to foreshadow his eventual membership into the organization. Such thoughts inevitably lead down the road towards questions of his own independence—were his thoughts actually his anymore?—so he quickly stomped them down.

Still, Jak huffed another sigh and shifted to peer only at his drink, she made for decent company—her uncanny resemblance or not. He just wished she were less observant.

“You never ask for my name, you know?” she murmured. By the sound of the way the cloth moved, Jak figured she shifted her head in the direction of Daxter’s voice. Jak figured by the rise and fall of a story told it came from somewhere over by the bar itself.

“You don’t seem to mind Dax’s nicknames,” Jak shrugged, “and you don’t offer it.”

She hummed, tucked her feet up—probably towards her chin. She stood taller than him—everyone stood taller than him except for Tess, Jak admitted grumpily—but with better proportioned limbs than Jak’s gangly own.

“I’ve not really had a nickname,” she said. “Not one I liked before.”

“Dax��s good at ‘em,” Jak murmured, then shifted his drink closer to his face.

“You’ll get your clothes soaked doing that.”

“So?”

“Do you want to ruin your lovely red hood?”

“Drat.”

Jak let his head slip back down again, let the noise wash over him. Even her, the sound of her breathing and heartbeat, of her voice, he found more soothing than the time at the palace. He wondered if he could just sleep behind the bar at night instead of the plush bed Ashelin all but ordered him to use.

“Think Tess would mind if I slept here from now on?” Jak asked.

“I think it’s more if Lady Praxis would mind, instead.”

“Ashelin can shove it,” Jak grumped, and then opened his mouth to continue on when his companion tapped the table with her nails. It stood for the unspoken warning signal that someone grew close to listening distance who wasn’t aware of Jak being more than simply Jak.

“Hi,” his companion chirped, and Jak’s ear twitched to the sound of feet that thumped and thunked in an even rhythm.

“Hello there, firecracker,” Sig’s deep baritone eased what little tension that drifted into Jak’s shoulders away, and prompted Jak to raise a hand in greeting. “Hello there, cherry. You drinking yourself into a stupor?”

“I wish,” Jak growled. He sighed and sat up, gaze stubbornly and morosely on his drink.

Gorgeous, firecracker—whatever nickname people used for her in the moment—shifted over so that Sig could sit down beside her. Jak glanced up, took in the weary features, and glanced back down with a frown. Sig looked worse than the last time Jak saw him. How long ago had that even been? He remembered Sig at the party, but after that? Jak sighed again. He sighed a lot lately.

“You look troubled, cherry,” Sig arched an eyebrow, and Jak shifted one shoulder up. His arm twisted slightly, his brow ticked down—without Daxter no one really noticed the full meaning in the motion. “Boring, huh?”

“Close,” Jak mumbled, “and yeah, kind of. Not a lot to do, I guess.”

“Not a lot you’re getting to do,” Firecracker pointed out, and Sig arched the other eyebrow. “Commander Torn has Jak on ‘hero leave’ for the time being.” She even did the finger quotes and eye roll that Daxter would at the words, even added the little sneer. Jak would’ve called it cute, once, except now after all this time he found someone mimicking Daxter a bit creepy.

“That what he calling it?” Sig questioned with a snort.

“That’s what Dax’s calling it,” Jak corrected faintly, picked up his drink, and took a sip. Tess wandered over, dropped Sig off his drink, and then wandered away with a smile and a wink. “Torn calls it needed rest.” Jak scowled. Ashelin called it getting caught up on all the shit Samos should’ve taught, Jak internally grumped. Like he even really wanted the lessons to begin with.

Precursors he was the King of Hell. Jak dropped his head back to the table with a faint whine.

“I just want to shoot things in peace,” he sounded like a whiny teenager, damn him, but he hated politics.

“I hear ya,” Sig nodded, tipped back his drink, and sighed. “What with this crazy traveling embargo Haven’s got up and running I can’t go salvage crap.” Sig glanced to Jak. “Your friend Ashelin tell you anything about that?”

Jak huffed. “I’ve had enough of Ashelin right now, Sig.”

“That bad?”

Jak scowled at his drink, sighed, and stood up.

“I’m going to go find Keira,” he mumbled, and started off. He only paused when Sig called out, “By the way like your new headpiece!” For a moment Jak thought Sig meant his hair, then he remembered his scarf and grinned.

“Trying something new,” Jak shot back, and slipped out the door of the Naughty Ottsel.

Keira peaked her head out from underneath the zoomer she worked on when Samos went quiet. She’d just begun to actually fall into a rhythm to the tone of his lecture, so the sudden stop felt almost jarring. The aged sage stood tiredly, a contemplative frown on his face, gaze off in the distance. Keira sighed, pulled herself completely out from under the zoomer, and wiped her hands down with a rag.

“Daddy?” she asked, a faint tilt to her head in curious worry.

“Hm? What?” Samos jerked around twisted around, the logs at his feet clacked noisily on the metal-and-stone ground of the garage. “Ah, Keira. Yes, where was I?”

“Daddy are you okay?” Keira questioned. She set the rag down on the bench and walked over toward Samos, hands snapped out to grab him by the elbow. “Maybe you should sit down?”

“Keira I’m fine,” Samos brushed her grasping fingers away with a harrumph. “There is merely a lot on my mind, so much to prepare…so much you need to know!”

“I’m not going to take up anything political for a few years, daddy,” Keira pointed out carefully. “Just because you and the rest of the Underground decided to…push Jak into this doesn’t mean I have to suddenly do everything either. I’ve got a good job here, a good thing going…and after everything that happened this city needs a good mechanic and some decent distractions.”

Samos sighed and didn’t resist as Keira moved him towards the couch set up on the other side of the mechanic pit. Kiera had the thing installed after the fourth time Jak popped up with the kid out of nowhere, intent on hiding from KG patrols. There was even a bowl for Krieg, the crocadog—although where the darn thing got off to Keira didn’t know.

“I know, Keira,” Samos said wearily, “I just don’t want you to be unprepared. I didn’t anticipate this outcome, and….”

“…now Jak is floundering,” Keira rolled her eyes. “Yeah, daddy, I’ve heard the story. Daxter won’t stop about how you should’ve told Jak something—even if it was just stories.”

“I tried…I did, Keira,” Samos shook his head. “That boy never listened. In one ear, out the other—if only he listened then none of this would be the way it is!”

Keira frowned. She’d heard Samos make the same arguments, and yeah she understood his concerns. As kids Jak, Daxter, and sometimes even herself were quite willful. Jak and Daxter always got into trouble, always into a mess or a location they should’ve been well away from—a part of Keira worried about them, too—but in the years in Haven they’d grown up. They were stronger, older, and world-wearier than Keira even expected to see.

“Daddy…” Keira said softly, and nibbled on her lip. “We’ve…put a lot on Jak’s shoulders.”

“He’s a strong boy,” Samos waved off her concerns. “He can handle it.”

“We put a whole city on his shoulders,” Kiera pointed out. “Sandover was one thing, saving the Sages was one thing, stopping the Acherons was one thing…it involved travel and danger and fear, but daddy? This is a city. This isn’t just the Sages, or the Acherons, or dealing with Lurkers. There’s so much to Haven and Jak…I think Jak needs a break.”

“He’s fine.”

Keira didn’t believe Jak to be fine. In fact he barely reminded her of the Jak she knew. Sure the zoomer races made her think of the times Jak helped her test the A-Grav, and the few times she saw Jak on the hoverboard—it was like Jak surfing on land instead of off the beaches of Sandover. There were little things, small snippets of the fourteen year old boy she knew, but the majority of Jak stood as a tightly wound ball that just waited to go off. Kiera didn’t like to admit it, but she feared Jak in a way now. She feared what Jak became, what had been done to Jak these years in Haven.

“Dax said he spent two years in the prison,” Keira whispered. “That he spent two years looking for Jak.”

“Probably did the boy a world of good,” Samos harrumphed. “A little solitude to think never hurt anyone!”

“Daddy…” Keira sighed. “I…don’t think that’s what prison was like for Jak.”

Erol never once mentioned Jak being in prison, back in the first year that she’d asked. In fact he seemed completely unaware of who Jak actually was, unlike during the races this past year. More times than Keira liked to admit Erol came into her garage, charm and wit in equal measure, just to ask her about the mysterious racer whose zoomer she worked on. Keira didn’t mind gushing to Erol—this was Jak, after all—and given Erol’s response at the time he obviously knew who Jak was.

“Be careful, Keira. Your friend is dangerous, more than you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Samos waved aside her concerns.

“If you say so, daddy,” Keira mumbled, and not for the first time wondered how long Samos sat in the prison.

Jak never did tell her just where he found Samos, but given the haunted look in his eyes it wasn’t anywhere nice. Keira patted Samos hand, gave him a wane sort of smile, and shifted over to her zoomer.

“You go back to work, dear,” Samos sighed, “and I think I’ll head over to Main Town and the Palace District.”

“Oh?”

“I have to reintroduce myself to what remains of the sage lines,” Samos continued with a huff. “Now that they know what I did in my errant youth there is quite a lot to make up for. Not that what I did was wrong; dare I say half this city wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for the Underground!”

“If you say so,” Keira said offhandedly, and Samos hobbled his way out of the garage. Keira watched him go, lips pressed thin. She looked back to the zoomer, and then looked away. Too much noise in her head, too many thoughts and concerns. Too many memories.

“Keira, I mean it; be careful around Jak. He’s not the boy you knew.”

Keira closed her eyes.

“Neither were you,” she muttered to the memory, and stepped around the zoomer. Maybe tinkering with the precursor artifacts were a better idea. Zoomers, right now, had too many bitter memories.

Halfway towards the Stadium and Jak decided not to visit Keira’s instead. He turned his feet over toward Main Town, and from there toward the upper noble houses. He kept his walk toward the shadows and fingered the passes in his pocket. Over the year he’d gotten quite the collection going. Red, the original card he’d found, then green, and then yellow for the areas connected to the agricultural sectors. Once, somewhere in the middle of the year when his rage started to mellow into something a bit less uncontrolled, but still fairly feral, Jak was given a pass for the upper crust of Main Town.

Now Jak found himself in control of two, but then he never did mention the first pass to anyone but Dax. He picked out the two passes from his pocket and stared at them contemplatively. Vin, way back in the early days, actually manage to lock the passes together into a wallet and Jak meant to use it—he did—but he always seemed to forget about the thing somewhere. Ashelin gave him something similar after being named King—said he should keep it on him at all times. Jak stuffed it into the sock drawer back at the palace in disgust.

If a wallet Jak must use, then he’d use the one Vin gave him—wherever it might’ve gone. He trusted Vin over anyone else with matters of technology, if only because Vin made sure Jak could follow along. Sure a lot of what the older man said went right over his head for the most part, but the fast-paced speed talking always felt like a slice of home. The way his eyes virtually glowed when he finally took off his goggles, the way they swirled like liquid blue eco, felt familiar. It reminded Jak that eco saturated blood beyond dark eco still existed in the world. That there was more than just dark eco here if you knew where to look. It felt like a slice of heaven in hell.

A house, lopsided and more ‘old world’ compared to the metal walls set in square designs with neat and perfect gardens, loomed up ahead. It looked rickety, worn and well cared for, and still somewhat chaotic and stranger. Tubes, wires—electronic devices of some make or model that Jak couldn’t understand—poked out of holes and out of a couple of windows. The eclectic design felt reminiscent of the Blue Sage’s hut that Jak sometimes visited as a child.

Jak slipped out of the shadows and into the blinking lights of the house in front of him. He pushed open the gate, ignored the way it creaked and groaned, and slipped past the overgrown front lawn. The flowers were pretty, as were the weeds that had over taken it, and the few pieces of discarded technology that seemed to thrive with the overgrowth. Calmly Jak picked his way towards the front door, raised his hand, and waved with a sort of faint smile.

“Uhm, hi,” he said, and shifted nervously on his feet. “I’m…sorry I didn’t call ahead. I—” The door swung open before Jak could continue, and Jak closed his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath and stepped past the threshold. Behind him the door slid back shut, and when Jak looked up it was into the eclectic, electric eyes of the person he came to visit.

“Jak.”

Jak breathed out a heavy, shuddering breath. “Hi, Zoe,” he mumbled. “Sorry I haven’t called.”

Matriarch Zoe smiled softly, the drawn lines of her aged face gentle and caring even as she lightly brushed her fingers against the red of his scarf, as if to tuck invisible hair behind his ear.

“You came now, child,” she said carefully, “and that’s all that matters. That’s all he’d want.”

Jak nodded once.

“Tea?” Zoe asked. “I was making Vin’s favorite.”

“Yeah,” Jak muttered. “That’d be great.”

​

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White Part XI

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI

Remus stepped back from his painting, his brush still in his mouth, his palette clutched in his hands. He squinted at the canvas, distorting his face as he tried to examine his work.

It wasn't perfect.

It never was.

It didn't matter; he needed something complete to show Sirius, and his time was running out. Remus turned to look at the clock on his phone, accidentally smearing paint on his sleeve. 

"Shit," he muttered around his paintbrush before taking it from his mouth and depositing it in his cup of muddy coloured water. As Remus bent down to reach for a rag to wipe his clothes, he heard a sharp knock on the door. The artist sighed and rolled his eyes. 

Of course he was early.

"Come in, it's open!"

Remus heard the apartment door open and the tell-tale signs of expensive boots on cheap floors. 

"Mr. Lupin."

"Yes, hello Mr. Black," Remus said from the ground, before straightening himself up. 

Remus suddenly found himself eye-to-eye with Sirius Black, and he immediately felt underdressed.

Sirius looked dapper, as always, in his elegant suit, tailored to fit. He had his hair swept from his eyes in a messy bun, the occasional strand falling across his face. Sirius wore a polite smile that gave no indication what he was thinking, and he inclined his chin in the way that Remus had grown to detest.

Remus, on the other hand, was wearing stained jeans and a paint-covered shirt, the uniform of an artist. He didn't know if his hair was messy, as he hadn't looked in a mirror all day, but that in and of itself was indicative of its state.

"Is this your newest piece?" Sirius cocked an eyebrow as he stared at the painting that Remus had spent all day working on. 

"It's nice to see you too," Remus mumbled sarcastically. For someone whose demeanor was all about being prim and proper, Sirius wasn't ever particularly polite to Remus.

"I think we're beyond formalities at this point, Mr. Lupin. Don't you?" Sirius never tore his eyes from the painting as he spoke. Remus smirked at the irony of Sirius' statement before answering his previous question.

"Yes, this is the newest piece. Is it… okay?"

"You tell me."

Remus brought a hand to his face, putting pressure on the bridge of his nose. Sirius was going to be the absolute death of him. 

"I'm happy with it. Is it suitable for the gallery?" 

"Who is she?" Sirius demanded, disregarding Remus' question.

"It's… uh… it's Lily."

Sirius pursed his lips in thought and Remus mustered all of his effort not to simply stare. 

"You do realize she's married to my best friend, correct?"

Sirius' words took Remus by surprise.

"Uh… yes? James introduced us. Are you… are you insinuating something, Mr. Black?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow and turned to Remus, silvery blue eyes penetrating his defenses. His jaw was set, his expression hard, there was a frosty air about him.

"This seems like the type of painting that comes from a place of… adoration."

"It's a gift," Remus snapped back, forgetting himself for a moment. Sirius Black had a unique knack for getting under the artist's skin. 

Sirius' brow furrowed as his lips narrowed.

"A gift?"

"Yes, Mr. Black. A gift. Painted for someone who would appreciate a painting of his wife."

"Why are you giving James gifts?" Sirius' posture changed slightly as agitation set in. He was standing straighter, taller, beginning to loom over Remus menacingly. Remus squared his shoulders and stood firm.

"To thank him for dinner. It's the least I could do. Why is that any concern of yours?"

Remus watched Sirius' eyes shift as the wheels in his head turned. The gallerist tilted his chin, raising it higher, making the hairs on Remus' neck stand on end. 

"It is my concern, Mr. Lupin, because you are now an artist showing in my gallery. Your actions reflect on Black and White as a whole."

Remus felt his fists tightening into balls, his nails digging into his palms. Sirius was being intentionally combative, and Remus wasn't having any of his crap. 

"Well then, Mr. Black, it's a good thing that this has nothing to do with your gallery!" Remus' voice was louder than he had intended, and he could see Sirius bristling in response. 

"Seeing as you signed a contract indicating that your artwork will be represented exclusively through Black and White until after your first solo show, I'm fairly certain this has everything to do with my gallery!" 

"For Christ's sake!" Remus was shouting now, all decorum tossed out the window. "This was going to be one of the pieces for the show! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Mr. Lupin!" Sirius' voice was equally as loud and he looked as if he was liable to burst at any moment. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes a hollow grey. "How, may I ask, is a gallery supposed to make money if it's displaying work that has already been sold?!"

"I thought your gallery wasn't about the money! I thought art had to be the priority! Could've sworn you said some bullshit like that!"

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to decide against it. He straightened himself up, took a threatening step towards Remus, and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. 

"You signed a contract, Mr. Lupin. A contract that explicitly states that I have a right to terminate it at any time, for any reason."

"Go ahead," Remus spat. He hated Sirius. He despised everything about him. From his perfectly manicured nails to his thousand dollar suits. From his pale, flawless skin to his hot-and-cold personality. Remus looked into steely grey eyes and hated them. "Terminate me."

The silence hung precariously in the air, thick and palpable.

"You're through, Remus Lupin. You will never be able to show in London again."

Sirius turned on his heel and marched out of Remus' flat, leaving the artist staring at the closed door in bewilderment and devastation. 

[alternatewarning]

Chaotic Elegance - Whumptober 2020 Fic

Entry Number 7 and 10 for Whumptober 2020: Carrying and Blood Loss/Trail of Blood

Title: Chaotic Elegance Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairing: Hints of Gladio/Prompto Rating: M Trigger Warnings: Gore, Major Character Death Summary: In an effort to protect Noctis during a heated battle, Prompto is badly injured. "Out of medical supplies and potions, the group races against a ticking clock to get him back to town.

Cross posted to Ao3

Most of the time the four of them fought in some chaotic sense of a formation.  Gladio would run in front, his sword easily taking down anything small or unprepared for the human behemoth.  Noctis would warp over to whatever enemy looked like it was the most likely to become a hassle and daggers would come flying after him, Ignis close behind.  With significantly less training than the other three, Prompto would follow behind, throwing off shots at any and every enemy that got close enough to aim at.  It wasn’t that structured in any way shape or form, but worked.  Rarely were they in each other’s way for more than a second, often turning a run-in to a two-pronged attack.  But sometimes things didn’t go as planned, even with such a thin hint of a plan to begin with.

It started when their toe-to-toe battle with an entire platoon of Magitek infantry was interrupted by a pack of elder coeurls who were much more intent on Noctis and his retainers than any of the ax-wielding magitek.  There were so many enemies to avoid that the entire battle was starting to become a hazy cluster, thunder streaking down from the sky as the cats seemed particularly interested in turning Noctis into their dinner.

“Noct, look out!”  Gladio’s warning wasn’t fast enough.  One of the larger black and white monsters was charing at the prince with it’s fanged mouth open wide.  Noctis’s back was to the creature as he was sidestepping the heavy swing of a trooper, twisting in the direction of the cat.  In a move so quick that he almost seemed to warp, Prompto was in front of the cat, gun aimed to fire.  While he managed to move fast enough his bullet didn’t down the monster, only wound it, and it didn’t present the attack.

The elder coeurl snapped its jaw, the predator catching all of Prompto’s shoulder in one bite.  It leaped back, mouth still clamped around the gunman, dragging him with her.  He stumbled to the ground, his right arm trapped in her maws.  Two more of her pack suddenly appeared, drawn in by their trapped prey.  Before any of the others could get to him, the monsters were already on top of him, claws and fangs tearing into skin.  The blond managed to get off a few shots, trying to at least maim the one holding him but everything was a blur of lightning, fur, and pain.

Prompto’s body quickly vanished under their assault, the giant creatures accidentally hiding the fact that he had been downed by their large size.  Eventually his grunts and ‘get off!’s warped into screams as they continued their attack.  It was enough to draw the attention of the others and the pack quickly scattered once one of them was killed by a combination of a lance thrown into its side and a greatsword rending it in two.  As the other two dodged away to be chased down by Noctis and Gladio, Ignis rushed to Prompto’s side.

The boy’s shoulder had been gouged by the coeurl’s fangs, clear teeth marks pierced into his clothing.  His chest looked like it had been nearly ripped open, claw marks tearing flesh and spattering the ground with blood that now tracked bloody paw prints away from the scene.  There were other, smaller wounds, like a few cuts to his face and more bite marks in his leg, but Ignis was much more worried about his chest.  He reached into the armiger only to find their healing items empty.  No potions, nothing at all.  He was out of healing magic himself, as well.

“You two need to wrap this up, and fast.  We are out of curatives and Prompto needs healing immediately.”  There was no time to focus on if they heard him or not.  Since his shirt had already been torn to shreds Ignis ripped it off, deftly tearing the fabric into strips.  He needed to focus on wrapping as many of the wounds as he could.  There was already a pool of blood below the blond and he was strangely quiet.  Still awake, at some point he had reached out and grabbed Ignis’s with a pale, white-knucked grip, but he seemed to be focusing so hard on breathing he didn’t have the spare thought to scream.

“Hold still, Prompto, this will hurt but it needs to be done.”  Ignis started to wrap what he could, praying to the Six that it was enough.  There were still sounds of battle all around him but he needed to focus on this and only this.  The shoulder wound was deep but not lethal, his leg was much more shallow so for now it would have to go ignored.  He started to wrap the chest, his gloves already slick with blood.

“Iggy…”

“Shh, you will be alright.  Just hold on a little longer.  We will head back to town once Noct and Gladio are done.”  He wanted to look Prompto in the eyes and promise him he would make it but he wasn’t in the habit of lying to the dying.  

By the time he was out of shredded shirt to use as wrapping it was obvious the Prompto was starting to fade.  There was a loud crack of fire erupting not too far away from Ignis’s back which was hopefully the last of the fighting.

“Iggy…I don’t feel so good.”  Just as the advisor was starting to lift him from the ground Gladio landed hard on his knees next to them.  Wordlessly he lifted the shivering boy into his arms, cradling the blond to his chest like a precious treasure.  He looked even paler than normal, his skin bleached against Gladio’s chest.

“Noctis, we are leaving now.”  The prince warped next to them after slicing the head off the last of the troopers.  His blue eyes went wide once he realized that the blood all over Prompto, and now Ignis as well, was his.

“Prom!  S---.  We have to hurry!”  He turned and ran, nearly tripping over himself as he started towards the nearest down.  Gladio followed behind him, one arm wrapped around Prompto’s back and the other under his knees.  The gunman was mumbling and shivering, fading in and out as they ran.  Ignis followed up the rear, trying to swallow the bile in his throat once he realized that even if he couldn’t see the other two, he could have easily followed the trail of blood.  Something was still bleeding badly enough that it was dripping down Gladio’s leg and leaving half formed bloody shoe prints in the dirt.

At first it seemed odd that Nocits ran ahead instead of trying to stay neck in neck with his Shield to guard his friend.  But it was obvious soon enough.  Ahead of the pack, his utter panic was enough to help him carve through any monsters that even appeared in his line of sight.  This left Gladio free reign to just run.  It was a single-minded focus that pushed all of them harder than their lungs could take.

Gladio hated how cold Prompto felt against him.  And how still.  Normally he was always moving, looking around, talking, fidgeting, on his phone, something.  He was never still for more than a millisecond, to the point that the Shield was a little shocked he could take a steady picture.  But now he was still as death.  At some point he’d wrapped a hand into Gladio’s shirt but even that felt weak, as if a gust of wind would pull him away.

“Hey blondie, hang in there.  We’re almost to safety.”  

“Gotta hang on…’s a rough ride, big guy.”  There were lights in the distance, the familiar artificial shine of an outpost.  It wouldn’t have the best medical facilities but there would be something.  Just as they were getting close there was a familiar, pained groan as the ground suddenly opened up into a flickering pool of darkness.  A gigantic iron hand slowly reached out, grabbing the ground like a ledge.  An Iron Gaint.  And not just one of them.

“Gadio, keep going.  We will take care of things here.”  Before the two daemons had even finished pulling themselves from the abyss, a series of daggers were launched towards them as Ignis yelled the orders over their cries.

“But Iggy-”

“Go!  Noct and I can handle this.”  The prince was already no more than a streak of blue was he threw his sword and warped into one of the daemon’s hands, causing it to try and swat him away like an annoying fly.  With a deep grumble Gladio continued to run, shifting the limp body in his arms ever so slightly.  At some point during that short exchange Prompto had closed his eyes and now he was worse than just still, he was completely limp.  The lights came close and closer until finally he was within their aura of safety.  The outpost had a small hotel with a half-sleep man at reception.  But he suddenly jerked awake with the sound of a behemoth coming through, throwing open a door for Gladio to rush in.  The man was gone in an instant, yelling over his shoulder that he was going to grab potions and whatever else he could.

With a gentleness to rival his rising panic, Gladio slowly lowered the younger man onto one of the beds.  His head lolled to the side, limbs landing where he was placed.  The wraps that had been his shirt had already soaked through, everything now a messy, dirty shade of red.  Against the light grey of the bedspread Prompto looked like a porcelain doll, his skin too pale to have ever been alive, his freckles standing out like black specks across his face.  He wasn’t breathing.  The innkeeper returned with a handful of vials and the Shield quickly grabbed the first, shattering it over the shredded remains of his chest.  He watched, listening for a gasp, a breath.  But nothing.  No change.  He was still limp and pale, lifeless.

“Prompto...come on.”  He reached out for another and again broke the bottle over the worst of the wounds.  And again nothing changed.  Gladio’s stomach leaped into his throat, closing off his air.  They hadn’t gotten here fast enough.  He hadn’t gotten here fast enough.  Slowly he took one of the other’s small hands in his own.  There was no pulse against his wrist, nothing.  Just a bloody shell all devoid of its sunshine.

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Versus XV: Origins

CHAPTER 1: REAPER

Legends. Stories scattered through time. 

Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts, of a forgotten past. 

Man, born from dust, was strong, wise and resourceful. But he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness, creatures of destruction. The creatures of Grimm set their sights on man and all of his creations. These forces clashed, and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man’s brief existence into the void. 

However, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change and in time, man’s passion, resourcefulness and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named “Dust”. Nature’s wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness and in the shadow’s absence came strength, civilisation and most importantly, life. 

But even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone, darkness will return. So you may prepare your guardians, build your monuments to a so-called free world but take heed… there will be no victory in strength. 

But perhaps victory is in the simpler things that you've long forgotten. Things that require smaller, more honest souls. For you see, people believe in hope. That when darkness veils the world, Warriors of Light shall come. This is a tale of those warriors; six young men and six young women.

This is a fantasy based on reality.

A small, calm breeze stroked the trees in the early hours of dawn. From them, a few leaves started to slowly drift to the ground. It was a sure sign that autumn was coming. Beside the trees stood a tall, wooden house and, from the windows, a young girl looked outside. She had short, dark red hair and wore black pyjamas. Her most striking feature, however, were her silver eyes. She sighed deeply and smiled at the sight of the fallen leaves. Suddenly, she jumped as she heard a knock at the door.

“Ruby!” called a voice from outside her room. “Are you up yet? Dad has breakfast ready.”

“Coming, Yang.” she replied. In a frenzy, Ruby muddled her bed and nearly tripped on her way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she changed into her clothes; a long-sleeved black dress with a black and red corset Red trims were on the end of her skirt and sleeves. Long red stockings covered her legs and she wore black combat boots, with red trims at the soles. Ruby looked in the mirror and gave a small twirl, beaming in delight.

“And now it’s time for the finishing touch.” she giggled. From the drawers underneath the wardrobe, she unfolded a long, red cloak with a hood. With a huge grin on her face, she draped it over her shoulders. “Perfect.” 

Before she left for the kitchen, Ruby glanced at her bookshelf and decided to take one of her books with her to breakfast. It was bound in red leather and gold writing covered the front, reading; The Tale of the Red Banshee. She headed downstairs to find her sister, clad in an orange tank top and black shorts, munching on some toast and eggs. Yang’s long, golden hair glowed in the sunshine. Their father, Taiyang, was frying up a second batch of eggs. 

“Morning, Ruby,” he greeted. With his spatula, he flipped the eggs over onto a small plate and handed it to Ruby. “Sunny side up!”

Ruby rolled her eyes in amusement. “Dad, you really need a new apron, you look all messy again.” she said. Tai’s lilac eyes were wide with horror as he took a look at his clothes. His usual tanned shirt and brown cargo shorts were stained in oil splashes. Even his blonde hair was covered with crumbs from the toast.

“Aw, no.” he groaned. 

“It’s okay, you can put it in the wash later.” Ruby joined Yang on the table and dug into her breakfast. Yang, her face covered in toast crumbs, took a glance at Ruby’s book beside her plate.

“You’re still reading that book again, Rubes?” she asked. Ruby nodded her head in delight.

“That I am, Yang. It’s one of my favourite fairy tales.” she replied. Yang snickered under her breath. It was sweet whenever her younger sister got excited. Minutes passed after they all finished their breakfast and Ruby sat comfortably on the sofa. She flipped open her book, setting her sight onto the first chapter, and began to read.

A long time ago, the people were subjected to a horrible curse. When the full moon rose, a savage wolf-beast wreaked havoc on the small village of Holz. He showed no mercy, and with claws and fangs as sharp as knives, he slaughtered countless innocents. Men, women and even children were all killed by his hand. Any attempt to fight back was useless, for his vicious howl would cause the mob to be paralysed. By the morning’s light, the wolf-beast had left, and the village was in ruins. Buildings were either broken or burnt and the survivors scrambled to find whatever shelter they could find, in fear of the beast’s inevitable return. For many nights, they prayed for a miracle, but they received nothing but more bloodshed. Hope was lost.

Ruby gulped in anticipation. Even at fourteen-years-old, she would always get goosebumps.

But one day, their prayers would soon be answered. A young woman with beautiful raven hair and blue eyes rode into Holz on a white horse. On her right, a short sword hung from her waist. Several people gathered around her, hands up as if they were in the presence of a Goddess. She smiled warmly and descended from her horse, where a small boy ran to her. 

“Have you been sent here to help us?” he asked weakly. The woman’s face fell with heartbreak, the boy’s clothes were tattered, his hair dishevelled, and his face covered in scratches. 

“I will do my best.” The woman said. “As a Huntress, I swear to it.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the Red Banshee.”

This part of the story always made Ruby excited. Ever since she was a child, she always dreamed of becoming a Huntress. They were more than just fairy tales, however, they were very real. The Huntsmen and Huntresses were the defenders of Remnant, protecting humanity from the evil creatures of Grimm. In the seven kingdoms, there were academies dedicated to teaching the art combat and training young, aspiring Huntsmen. Both Ruby and Yang were training to become Huntresses, even managing to forge their own weapons. Suddenly, Ruby felt a brush against her shoulder, finding Yang standing over her, smirking.

“I’m gonna get some extra training done today.” she said. “You wanna join me?” Ruby’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Aw yeah!” she cheered, almost dropping the book. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Yang chuckled. “Just wait right here, I’ll get changed into my combat gear.” With that, she zipped upstairs into her room. Ruby laid back on the sofa and a mischievous smirk crossed her lips. 

I’m not gonna lose this time, Yang! she thought. Prepare to eat Dust!

* * *

Yang’s outfit consisted of a tan jacket, with short, puffed sleeves, a yellow crop top, an orange scarf wrapped around her neck, black shorts and brown, knee high boots. On her left boot was a purple bandana tied to it and on her wrists were small, golden metallic bands and black fingerless gloves. Soon the two girls entered deep into the forest, finding a good spot not too far from their house. After a quick stretch, they took their fighting stances. Ruby began to charge at full force but found herself knocked down in an instant. 

“Ow.” she winced. Yang approached her and chuckled in amusement before offering her hand.

“You could’ve easily dodged that, you know.” she said, still smiling from the fall.

“I’ve told you a million times that I’m not good at hand-to-hand combat.” Ruby groaned.

“And you never will be if you don’t practice.” 

“You know if I had my scythe, I would’ve beaten you!”

Yang sighed. “There you go with that scythe again. I know you’re awesome with that weapon of yours, but you can’t always rely on it. Your whole body can be a weapon.” Ruby simply folded her arms and pouted, causing Yang to laugh. 

“Hey,” she said, placing her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Next week I’ll be heading off to Beacon Academy. I wanna make sure you can hold your own while I’m gone.” Beacon Academy was the most prestigious Huntsmen Academy in the Kingdom of Vale, and Yang trained very hard in order to be admitted. Before graduation at the Signal Combat School, students had to prepare for a final entrance exam in order to qualify. Fortunately for Yang, she passed with flying colours. Ruby was really happy for her sister, hoping to reach her level as soon as she finished at Signal. With newfound determination, Ruby readied herself as they continued their sparring match. Yang made the first move by throwing a punch directly at her. Ruby barely dodged it, almost stumbling after the second punch. By the time the third punch came, she used her wrist to block it, gritting her teeth as she winced in pain. Yang smiled as she tried to go for another swing, but Ruby managed to sidestep just in time. Suddenly, the blonde brawler delivered a roundhouse kick, successfully knocking her to the ground once again. Fury overcame Ruby as she got back up and started punching rapidly. Yang simply weaved in and out of them. She soon jumped high in the air and landed behind Ruby, striking her in the back. Yang smiled wickedly as she began charging towards Ruby, about to deliver a downward right hook. Fearing for her life, Ruby suddenly fled into the bushes. The speed was so fast that Yang could barely see her, only noticing a trail of rose petals scattered on the ground  

“I gotta say, that was pretty cool!” she cheered. “Though you can’t always run away from your problems. Sometimes you have to take them head on and fight no matter what.” The air was strangely quiet and Yang didn’t hear a response. “Okay, Ruby. Enough rest. Come on, let’s go!” There was still no response and she was beginning to get worried. “Ruby?” She heard rustling in the bushes followed by a hideous snarl. Red eyes peered from inside the shrubbery and tore open to reveal a large bear-like monster. Its fur was jet black, a white skull-like mask covered its face and from its back were large, bone white spikes. Yang’s eyes widened with horror as she came face to face with a creature of Grimm. 

“What have you done with my sister?!” she demanded. The Grimm roared at her and raised its paw to strike. Yang, however, activated her weapon and her wristbands suddenly transformed into gauntlets. Propelling herself forward with a hidden gun mechanism, she landed two punches directly in the Grimm’s face, followed by an uppercut that exploded on impact. Enraged, the creature tossed Yang aside, sending her flying. However, she managed to quickly regain her footing and charged once again, cocking her gauntlets to deliver her assault. The Grimm lunged towards her, only to stagger backwards to a barrage of punches and gunshots. Red smoke covered the air as Yang was about to deliver the finishing blow, but Grimm would not give up so easily. With its claws raised high, it violently threw Yang  into several trees. Heavy bruises covered her arms, legs and face. As tough as she was, even she felt pain. From the bushes, Ruby could only watch in horror as the vile Grimm slowly approached her sister. 

“Yang, no!” she cried. Hearing this, the beast stopped and set its sight on Ruby. It gave a wicked roar and began to run towards her. Fear paralysed the young girl and she watched helplessly as the Grimm drew closer to her. Yang screamed as she tried to get up, trying to brave the unbearable pain. Panting heavily, Yang could feel powerful energy coursing through her body. Her usual lilac eyes suddenly turned a bright red and her hair became covered in flames. She yelled with furious anger and used her gauntlets to propel herself towards the Grimm. Without even a second to think, she unleashed a furious combination of punches, kicks and gunshots.. Finally, she delivered a devastating fist in the creature’s face, exploding with red light on impact. The creature fell and started to disintegrate until there was nothing left. Feeling exhausted, Yang collapsed to the ground. She won.

“Yang! Yang!” Ruby shouted as she rushed to her aid. “Are you okay?” Yang’s eyes stirred awake, seeing the look of relief and sorrow on her sister’s face.

“I’m fine Ru-” she was about to finish when she was interrupted by a strong hug. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” Ruby sobbed. “If I had my scythe, I could’ve killed that Ursa easily, and now you’re hurt because of me.”

“It’s okay,” the older girl responded, returning the hug. “You know I’ve always got your back. And don’t worry about my injuries, it’s nothing that a little aura can’t fix. I’ll be right as rain in a few hours.” She wiped the tears off her sister’s face as she staggered back up. Both girls decided to call it a day and headed back inside, with Ruby carrying Yang on her shoulder and mumbling about how heavy she was along the way. 

* * *

That evening, while Yang was on bedrest, Ruby snuck out of the house through her bedroom window and headed back into the forest. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of white roses and from the back of her belt, a compact mechanical device that was black and red in colour. From a gap in the trees, she could see her destination, a cliffside with a small headstone. As she approached the headstone, a sad smile crossed her face. A symbol of a rose was engraved on it, with the words Summer Rose, Thus, I kindly scatter, written underneath. Ruby placed the roses near the stone as small tears fell from her eyes. 

“Hey there mom,” she whispered. “Today’s been pretty intense. Yang and I have been training a lot and she’s going to Beacon in a week’s time. How cool is that?” Silence fell across the atmosphere. “I miss you mom,” she said through her sobbing. “I wish you were here to help me out. I messed up today and because of that, Yang got hurt.” More tears started falling. “I don’t ever want to feel that helpless again, and I promise that I will become stronger and make you proud. You, dad, and Yang.” Wiping her tears, she decided to take her leave. By the time she headed back into the forest, it was already night, with the only source of light being the shattered moon. As Ruby left the forest and came across an open field, she suddenly heard snarling and growling. From out of nowhere, several wolf-like creatures began to surround the area. Like the Ursa, they too had jet black fur with bone spikes from their backs. White masks also covered their faces and their red eyes glowed fiercely. 

“Beowolves.” she gulped as she removed the device from behind her belt. Three of them spotted Ruby and lunged towards her. However, she was quicker and leaped into the air. Pressing a button from the left side, the device began to transform, shifting into a medium-length rifle. Taking aim, she fired and the shots found their mark, leaving gaping holes in Beowolves’ bodies. Two more Beowolves circled around her, raising their claws for the attack. Quickly, Ruby activated another switch, causing the rifle to unfold into a large scythe, and in one swift movement, cut them in half. More of the pack began to charge forward, causing Ruby to slam the front of her scythe into the ground. Taking out what appeared to be a red magazine, she loaded it into the chamber and took aim at the beasts. Pulling the trigger, the bullets fired from the top of the scythe, felling the Beowolves one by one. The rest of the pack began to pick up speed and promptly slashed their claws at the red reaper. Luckily, she managed to dodge just in time, pulling out her scythe in the process. As the pack drew near, Ruby ran forwards and twirled the scythe in her hands, slicing the Grimm with deadly grace. But the survivors were relentless and roared at their prey. More Beowolves started to gather and had her surrounded. Ruby had no way of escaping and step by step, they moved closer, claws and fangs ready to tear her apart. She started to pant heavily, her hands were shaking, and she almost fell to the ground. The Beowolves’ lips twisted into devious smiles as they bared their ugly fangs. 

“N-no.” Ruby rasped. “This isn’t going to end like this.” Regaining her composure, she stood firmly on the ground and readied her weapon. Her eyes stared angrily at the monsters and she too bared her teeth. 

“I. AM. NOT. WEAK!” she screamed. In a burst of speed, she launched herself towards them, slicing and slashing viciously one by one. Body parts were flung across the fields and when she reached the last one, Ruby placed the scythe behind its head and decapitated it in one swift, clean motion. 

Tired from her ordeal, Ruby looked back just in time to see the remains start to disintegrate. From the trees, she could see a small crow shifting its head towards the left side of the forest, as if it was directing her. With a small smile, Ruby folded her weapon and placed her hood back on, making her way back to the comfort of home.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

A shoutout to @notevenjokingfic for helping me wrap the last paragraph of this one up. She is a champ and she makes me a better writer.

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations|Part VII: Magnolias| Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.) Part XV: Cabin

Claire wondered if it was real.

How any of it could be real.

The weightless feeling pressing against her skull.

The leaden feeling in her bones, save the very tips of her fingers.

The bobbing feeling of her mind, floating above the rest of her like a balloon swollen with helium and fighting at the end of a slippery string.  

The percussive orchestra of rain against the roof and windows becoming a tight drum. The slapping of fat, cool drops coming in sheets and pinging metallic in the gutters.  The gurgling draining of water off of the eaves, dripping and soaking the brown earth until it became a saturated, life-sustaining black.  

The slurring Gaelic in her ear as she finally emerged from the haze that had cascaded over all five of her senses.

“I’ve no’ ever…” Fraser started before his voice trailed away. He swallowed (once, again, a third time) in an apparent (and unsuccessful) attempt to clear a lump in his throat.  “Bein’ wi’ ye, I couldna begin to imagine… the closeness…”

Absorbing the rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingertips, her thoughts meandered. She put random meanings to his Gaelic.  Words and phrases that she had never heard, that she could not begin to spell.

‘Live, here, in a moment,’ she thought to herself, trying to summon the mental image of an existence (however long) where all that dwelt was rain, the cabin, and the man pressed against her.  

She allowed her eyes to close (a fight that she could never have hoped to win), to just be with him.

A man.  

Fraser.  

Jamie.  

Hers.

The quiet reverence with which Fraser had touched her shoulder as she had risen to step into the bathroom after the stampede of their breathing had evened.  

The dumbfounded way she concentrated on her reflection in the mirror while performing a tender inspection of her swollen, smiling mouth behind the closed bathroom door.

The sound of him moving about the room, opening and closing a drawer, quietly coughing, hissing a curse over a toe stubbed by some dastardly piece of heavy furniture.

The finely carved, naked statue of him as she exited the bathroom, just far enough from the door that she knew he was not listening.

The holding thick robe, white gone grey from repeated washing with a too-long mismatched tie.  

The look in his eyes as he had studied her matched the warmth of the kiss he placed on her forehead.

The tenderness and care he took as he wrapped her in the robe and whispered, “there, ye’re no worse for wear now.”

The way she had fought to stop herself from whispering, “you’re wrong, you’ve destroyed me, brought me back to life.”

“I’m hungry,” she whispered instead, digits curling under the too-long cuffs of the robe. The fabric was scented with him in a way that she knew would never wash clean. His humid puff of breath at the tail end of a Scottish noise cemented the baby-fine hairs at her hairline against her temple.  

“Are ye?”  As if it required clarification or words needed to fill the moment, he added, “Hungry?”

Bowing her head, she rested her head against his chest and framing her front against his hips with her hands loose at his hips.  “I am.  I want to eat and hear all about this place, and then I want to fall back into bed with you.”

His dry palm skimmed along the curve of her throat, fingers lifting her chin and tilting her gaze up to his.  “A perfect plan, mo nighean donn.”

Eyes open, their lips met in only the briefest of touches.  “C’mon then,” she said lightly, smiling. “I would hate to starve to death before we have a chance to do that at least ten thousand more times.”

Brushing a curl from her forehead, he kissed her again. “I needta…”  His voice trailed and he gestured to the bathroom with a brief lift of his chin.

“Needta piss and clean up?” she asked, the broadness of her smile interrupted only by the quick sinking of her teeth into her lower lip.

Shaking his head, he pulled back.  The word “piss” coming from her mouth in that regulated, manicured accent somehow sounded incredibly vulgar and well mannered at the same time.  “Ye’ll no’ ever cease surprisin’ me will ye?”

Flaring her nostrils and pursing her lips as she turned away, Claire shrugged. “I hope not.”

When Fraser emerged from the bathroom clad in sleep pants and a sweater (heldover from university), he found the bedroom empty and followed the sound of clattering.

Leaning against the wall, he took in the sight of her in his kitchen for a moment.  She was entirely undone and moving about the space like she had maneuvered through it a thousand times (opened the cupboard to find a pan before, reached behind the cutlery tray for a can opener at some point in the recent past, lifted the lid on the countertop crockery not to be surprised at the sight of almost-melted room temperature butter).  The robe’s sleeves were shoved up to her elbows. She had re-tied the oversized garment so much of the length billowed over the top of the tie.  From the waist down, was all swishing terry cloth, calves and thighs, creases behind knees, finely-boned feet, and painted toenails.  

Unadorned by jewels or makeup, expensive clothing or stacked heels, she was raw in her beauty.  Almost too pretty, her curved shapes belted into his robe putting her at maximum advantage and her hair in a snarl where he’d knotted in his hand while inside of her. On the spectrum, she was closer to the woman who came stumbling into his stables (her stables) that one night than the one freshly divested of a tiara who had kissed him back with a stunning amount of alacrity.  In his kitchen, touching his things, she was his nameless horse caper, seeking some quietude.  

Claire hummed along to the crackling radio that she had kept low (Mr. Sandman bring me a dream make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen, a sway in her hips and tilt of her shoulders so brief he would have missed it had he not been so intent on her).   He realized that his mind could smell her when his nose could not.  (It was imprinted on his mind –– clean and musky with sex, with satisfaction.)  And yet, the desire to be near enough to catch her scent along the long peach fuzz parabola of her neck propelled him forward.

“What’re ye makin’, Sassenach?”

She paused, a wooden spoon in hand suspended over a pan.  “You do not have much in this cabin in the way of food.”  Her belly groaned in protest at the mere thought of a weekend of sex and little eating, and he quirked a smile.

“I thought of that verra thing as ye were clinging to me on the back of the bike, how ye may starve.”  He ran a hand through his hair before coming up behind her, drawing her back against him as she stirred something in the pot. “I can pop out and get some things tonight or in the morning.”

“Hmmm,” she sighed, leaning her head back and against his, her steady mixing of bubbling soup straight from the tin not missing a beat. “Tomorrow, and I will come along.”

Incredulity rumbled in his chest, a volcano signaling imminent eruption. “Are ye sure that’s the best idea? Small town folk are wont to talk, Claire.”

His hands strayed, one finding its way into the gaping opening in her robe.  He found what he was looking for –– naked skin. “If this splatters and I get burnt, I will be very cross with you, Fraser.”

Dipping his chin, he rested it as a crown atop the mop of curls that his lovemaking hands and her writhing against the mattress had destroyed.  For a moment, he felt a hardy, red-blooded male jolt of pride, as though he’d conquered her usually well-coiffed locks.

“A few things, Jamie.”  She tapped the edge of the spoon’s handle on the edge of the pan before turning off the flame.  

“Aye?” he urged, again taken by his name on her lips.

“One.  I can disguise myself to some extent. You would be surprised by how much the surprise of a situational inconsistency can throw people off.  No one expects the Queen of England to come wandering into a greengrocer or butcher shop in a small village on a sleepy Saturday morning.”  She lifted the lid on a second pan, revealing some sizzling sausages he had not realized dwelled in the depths of his freezer.  “And therefore, the Queen of England has a doppelganger at a greengrocer or a butcher shop.  People will say, ‘Oh, I saw a woman who looked like the Queen, but she had such a fat arse and a slightly more pleasant face.’”

Unconsciously, he glanced down to said body part, resisted the urge to comment on how much lovelier and fatter her arse actually was in person.  “I’ll have to take yer word for it, having never before bedded a star before,” he said, voice heady with a faux exaggeration that made her pinch his forearm and hiss. He merely chuckled. “What else?”

“Two,” she continued on, his good-humored comment taken on board for what it was. “You cannot possibly know how much I want to be…”

Pausing, she set the lid back over the sausages and turned in his arms.  He drew her back, lest the drape of his robe get too close to the open flame beneath the soup and sausages. “What is it?”

“I do not want you to think that I’m being crude somehow… like I am doing this…” Her voice faded as she searched his face, eyes like palms open, warm, and awaiting a blessing. He wanted her words. Her every thought.  “I do not want you to think that I am in love with you in some sort of fetishized way.  To get away from my life… from the formalities of it all––”

“––I would never––”

A single finger pressed into his lips as she cupped his jaw.  “I love you because I can be myself with you, but I would hate for you to think that I am using you as some sort of… outlet for a need to live a quiet life.  It is not that at all.”

He arched back from just enough to break her contact with his mouth.  “Ye’ll break my heart wi’ lovin’ ye, ye ken that, aye?”

Confusion molded her expression into one of incredulity.

“I would never think,” he began, hands tightening on her hips for emphasis, “that ye’re somehow taking advantage of me to live some dull, quiet, countryside life. Just as I ken that you would never think that I’m wi’ ye, lovin’ ye, and watchin’ ye fallin love wi’ me, just so I can bed yer... status.”

When she closed her eyes, he leaned forward and kissed the salty seam of each.  Then the tip of her nose.  One cheek, her forehead, and then the other. The contour beneath one cheekbone.  Her mouth.  Oh, her mouth.  He took it with his own.  He took her small body melting into his, let his hands find their way through the gap in her robe and to fill themselves with the soft curve of her bare buttocks, her thighs, the small of her back, and again the handfuls of her buttocks.  

“Take me again,” she mumbled against his kiss-moist lips as he broke for a breath.

Without another word, he spun them, lifting her to the counter and untying the robe. “I’ll never tire of this,” he said, though his words were lost in the incoherent moan she let loose as he took her breast in his hand, guided the peak between his lips. With his pajama pants pooled at his feet, his sweater knotted in her fingers, he entered her with the kind of blind passion that leads people to various indiscretions (to roger a woman outside of a pub in an alleyway, to allow fingers an exploration far further north beneath a wife’s skirt beneath a table draped in linen while discussing business with a colleague, or to fumble about for a space to land in a coat closet, joined among the foreign-scented winter things of strangers).  

She cried out against his throat (harder, please, oh Christ, harder), nails sinking into his shoulders as she tried to hold on.  He heard her head smack a cupboard with a hollow clack, slowed, registered her admonition to “do not stop, damn you,” and bowed his head in concentration.  

Take me again, she had implored him, eyes gilt and a gift to him.  

So he did.

Harder, she begged, her breath an invitation hastily written out so that he could have her completely.

So he obliged.

At the end of all things, her body was limp everywhere (except where it still quaked, attempting to pull him deeper and draw him closer like a siren in the form of a sparrow with a woman’s face, scaled feet and wings paired with arms).  Feeling her that way, he wondered if she would truly kill him with loving her.  As he slipped free of her body, mumbling a wasted apology about the mess he had made of her, she gathered her to him with her legs.  

“Let me listen to your breathing for a minute.”  It was the whimpered, undeniable plea of a lover.  An ask that he could not fathom disregarding. “Please.”  

He allowed her to trap him there, milky softness of her thighs on his waist. The rest of the world does not exist, the warmth of her said.  

Seek me out, his belly called back, hearing nothing more than the echo of unspoken words rattling in his head.  His softening, damp cock awkwardly pressed between them as he drew her to the edge of the counter where he could hitch her to him.  

“The sausages,” she mumbled as he lifted her, started to walk them to the living room. Her legs dangled at his waist, her forehead falling to rest against his.  She had no spare energy left with which to cling to him.  Instead, she let him carry her dead weight, kissing his jaw almost apologetically.

“Fuck the sausages,” he sighed, laying her down and covering her body on the sofa.

Some time later, after a meal of burnt sausages and too-salty tinned soup, she was studying him.  Featherlight fingers fought the heaviness of her hand to trace the outline of his chest through his sweater. “Tell me about this place.”

He did.

Quiet and watching the fire he’d built in the living room instead of looking at her.  

Even with his voice low, he had the way of a storyteller about him.  

Voices for an ensemble (mam, da, Willie, Jenny, his old grisled Uncle Murtagh).  Hands that warred between a thorough exploration of the buttes and basins of her body and to embellish the hills and valleys of his tale.  Eyes that glittered beneath thick lashes, widening and narrowing for emphasis.  

A cabin built by Brian Fraser for his new wife, Ellen, after World War I.  A place that absorb his screaming nightmares into exposed wooden rafters.  Where his family gathered for Christmas, dragging a tree down the sloping, snow-covered hills on Christmas Eve.  Decorating it with popcorn and cranberries, eating Jelly Babies until their teeth ached.  A home for weekends of hunting and fishing, where he came to drink himself into a stupor when his father passed away.

After a time, he fell silent and just held Claire, thanking God that she was there, that she did not ask questions he did not want to answer about the place where their bodies were molded into one. As the fire died, Claire hovered on the precipice of sleep, her toes just glancing over a placid pool of dreams.  He was surveying the parts of her that he had just recently discovered, staked a claim to.  Men had been along the plane of that throat before. Between her legs. And wrapped like vines around the parts of a brain that make people foolish when they believe that they’ve discovered love. Men who she thought she had loved and who she had convinced herself had loved her. Claire was certain that if she had anything whatsoever to do with it, Fraser would be her last, her only.

“Ye look as though ye could start snoring on me at any moment,” he said eventually, rolling a curl between his fingers over and over again.

“If I sleep today will be over,” she confessed, an undisguised note of longing in her voice. As much as she longed for another layer of intimacy with Fraser, she ached at the thought of loss over missing a single moment alone with him.   As if by fighting sleep, she could extend the hours in the day or suspend the passage of time.  

He hummed with appreciation at the sentiment, pressing his nose along the swoop of her neck, inhaling in a way that made her drowsy.

She had not slept with many men other than Frank, but she concluded that to actually sleep with someone did construct a sense of intimacy, as though her dreams had flowed out of her to mingle with his. It was an ultimate act of trust to sleep beside another person. The armor of clothing and status had been stripped away. She was bare, vulnerable.  The shield of a word or glance impossible behind closed eyes and a searching, dreaming mouth. It felt somehow more intimate than the joining of their bodies.

“I’m about to sleep myself, Sassenach.”

She needed to ask what that word meant, but she did not need to ask to know that he was hers now, and that she belonged to him.  She did not belong in the sense of a thing (his woman, a chattel under the law) or a concept (the royalty).  Rather, she belonged as someone having fallen completely and irrevocably.  She could not possibly dwell anywhere but inside the chambers of his heart or the memory of his skin on hers.

Closing her eyes, she closed out the nighttime ramblings of her lonely mind.  The worries about gossip in her home, the speculations of a citizenry or her own family.  By the name of the God on whose name Claire became Queen, she would have this man.