#i nearly cried on public transport this morning

[theyatosimp]

i dont beg god for anything, but for you,

my knees have never truly left the ground

[jiminiecrickets]

Can I request a drabble of how Oc met seven days a week Jk's friends ?

Only if you want to ofcourse!

sure, here you go :)

sfw.

"all of you, behave!"

"keep talking to me like that and i'll show you be-having!"

"stop stealing my clothes, damn it!" jungkook cries, wrestling the black top with a boob window out of taehyung's iron grip. "i'm not wearing that in front of him!"

"you wear that in front of us." a smug smirk stretches across taehyung's face. "you wanna be seen as mature and good wifey material, huh? ooh, somebody's got a cru-ush..."

the two-storey house was in shambles. on paper, seven people doesn't seem like an alarming number, but put into practice, it was like constantly dealing with the morning after a frat party, with the front door constantly opening and shutting and nothing ever being where it was yesterday. it only ramped up tenfold when jungkook wondered if he could his new boyfriend to movie night, with seokjin darting around the kitchen to make a feast and everyone else cleaning up and stuffing unfolded clothes into their closets and shutting the doors before everything fell out.

they hadn't even formally agreed yet. jungkook asked if they'd mind if he introduced his boyfriend to them that week and they immediately scattered and began making preparations, as if they were part of a hive mind.

it was sort of sweet, but this had never happened to anyone else's partner. he was afraid you'd be scared off. why was he being singled out like this?

ding dong!

"everyone to your places!" hoseok shouts, launching himself onto the couch and grabbing the tv remote, slouching casually. with a little more dignity, namjoon takes a seat next to him, and jimin leaps over the back of the couch to perch on the armrest like a small bird. yoongi closes his laptop by the coffee table and pulls his headphones down around his neck, feigning interest in the reality tv show playing.

in the kitchen, seokjin rolls his eyes with a smile, carrying dishes to the table. taehyung helps with the drinks, carrying the eight glasses in his hands like a girl with too many things and no pockets to carry them in. jungkook runs to the door, tugging it open.

he nearly faints on his own doorstep. he blinks the admiration out of his eyes and swallows, propping his elbow on the edge of the door frame. "h-hey."

"hey, yourself," you reply, amused. "are you alright? you look a little red."

"i'm okay," he giggles, messily brushing his hair out of his eyes. you smile fondly and card your fingers through his bangs, pushing them off of his forehead. his face grows redder. "um – come in, come in! we're just finishing up. you can put your shoes there."

"thank you. nice place you have."

"thanks! we had to get out of the city a bit to find a place with four rooms that wasn't going to put us in debt, but public transport's pretty good so it's not really that big of a deal. did you get yourself here okay?"

"you chose a hell of a place," you chuckle. "it was a straight line and a few lefts and all of a sudden i was here. you're only a few minutes from the highway."

"yeah," he breathes, watching your lips while you talk. he clears his throat and glances down, but that doesn't help much, because you're dressed like a supermodel and can't help his wandering thoughts. "yeah, uh – so, d'you wanna meet my friends?"

he's so bad at this.

"i'd love to, jungkook."

he takes your hand with a breathless grin and guides you out of the foyer, clearing his throat importantly. on cue, everyone stops what they're doing, and they smile and wave in your direction.

he introduces them in order of proximity, pulling you into the living room to sit you down while taehyung finishes with dinner. seokjin skips over and slaps his hands down on jungkook's shoulders, beaming at you and offering his hand. you take it and shake firmly.

"call me jin! so, our jungkookie says you're pretty well-off."

jungkook nearly breaks his neck to stare at him in horror. "what? i – shut up, i'm not a gold digger!" he turns his wide, sheepish eyes to you, considerably softer. "i didn't say that. well, i-i did, but it wasn't the only thing – they kept bugging me about it, i got so tired of it so i just—"

"don't panic, jungkook." you laugh softly, placing your hand on his thigh reassuringly. all of his friends hone in on the casual touch like a guided missile as you address them. "yes, i don't struggle, but it's not that interesting. i'm happy to treat him, but we are equals. he doesn't owe me anything."

he blushes, swooning all over again. it seemed to have been the right thing to say, because his friends are all over you for the rest of the night, swallowing you into their friendship and adding you into a group chat so they can get to know their youngest's boyfriend better. eventually they will hang out with you without jungkook because otherwise he'll never let them near you <3

[thecuddlefishiv]

I Spy (With My Little Eye)

Spy x Family is the first anime to make me pick up the manga and boy am I glad I did! I’m practically caught up in the series and unfortunately I have not received the domestic fluff I so desperately crave. (And segss...) So I’m gonna go ahead and write some fanfic for the lovely family! Here is an excerpt~ Spoilers! If you are anime only, then some parts will be confusing/spoiled ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Perfect Wife: The first frost of winter had settled like a blanket amongst the city of Berlint. Precautions concerning transportation. Work and school were made accordingly the few days prior once the forecast had been made public. Like predicted, a foot of snow had fallen throughout the night. Upon morning, nearly every available surface in the city was covered in white. Icicles could be found hanging from signs and even tree limbs. Snow was nothing foreign in this country so daily life was only hindered by stricter road rules and heavier layers of clothes. Too Anya’s dismay, she found out she still had to go to school.  “But it’s a winter wonderland!” She cried as she vibrated in her seat, both her and Loid waiting for Yor’s mystery breakfast. She has been getting better, with the help of her coworkers, but there were still times where a certain meal would not settle well with he or Anya. Hopefully, today was not that day. “I can’t spend the entire day doing school stuff! I must play!” Her little arms were waving in the air for effect, Loid’s stoic expression easily hiding his inner amusement from his daughter’s energetic display.  “It won’t disappear while you’re in school. It’s too cold as it is.” He said, the male idly flipping through the morning paper. Suddenly, his eyes met Anyas’,”Freezing point?” Her little legs kicked underneath the table as she hummed in thought. In between study time, Loid tried to throw in random questions throughout the day that was currently being taught to Anya at school. Her attention span was hard to predict but so far he has been seeing positive results with this sort of method.  “0 degrees?” Her green eyes gleaned with hope, Loid giving a small smile. “Correct. Very good.” She gave a triumphant pose, a feminine chuckle filling the air as Yor walked from the kitchen with a couple of steaming plates. “Well done, Anya!~” Yor chirped proudly as she placed Anya’s breakfast before her, Yor giving a few pats on her head. Anya beamed,”Tis nothing.” She said, Loid refraining from giving a small chuckle. “Here you go, Loid.~” Yor smiled, the ravenette placing her husband’s breakfast in front of him. “Thanks, Yor.” He placed his paper aside, Yor seating herself as she stared at them both intently. Breakfast was simple; eggs, bacon, morning sausage, toast with jelly - nothing to it. However, Yor’s body trembled in anxiety as she awaited their ruling.   Anya had noticed the bacon first, the three strips upon her plate already gone as she soon tore into her eggs. She didn’t throw up the bacon, Yor will count that as a win. Her gaze then switched to Loid who had broken into the eggs first. He wasn’t retracting in disgust after his first few bites so Yor will give herself another win. “Yes! My family didn’t throw up my cooking.” She proudly thought. “This is really good, Mama! It’s not yucky!” Anya praised, Yor finding Anya’s sheer honesty a harsh yet such an Anya attribute that she would never change. That’s just who her daughter was.  “I’m happy to hear it.” Yor said, the female nursing a cup of tea. “Are you not going to eat, Yor?” Loid asked, Anya almost done with her plate. “Ah, well, I ended up eating while I was making breakfast. I wanted to be sure that what I made was actually okay.” She said nervously, her amber eyes staring into her tea. “It really did come out well. You should trust yourself more.” Loid said, his words causing Yor to blush. “Right…Thanks, Loid.” She found some courage to look up and meet her husband’s gaze, her bright smile creating a faint blush on Loid’s face. “Anytime, Yor.” They then found themselves stuck looking at each other, the world easily slipping away from their heated gaze. “Is mama and papa going to kiss now?” Anya’s little voice cut through the air like a seasoned blade, Loid and Yor’s moment breaking immediately as they both whipped their head to Anya. “We are not!” They said at the same time.  ~~~~  Yor soon found herself alone for the afternoon; Anya was now in school and Loid has left for his job at the hospital. Just recently, Yor had to take off time from work to focus on a mission that would require her attention for most of the day. However, due to unforeseen events, Yor had finished the mission very early and soon found herself with a lot of free time. She couldn’t just show up at the office out of the blue, she was too worried about being turned into the SSS. So, for now, she was going to be home for a week. The shopkeeper has no current mission for her either and until he does, she literally has time to kill.  The first couple of hours were spent cleaning up the house. However, due to Loid’s strict rules on cleanliness, Yor found herself coming up empty on things to do. She could go out and do some shopping for the house, but it was quite cold outside and maybe having a nap wouldn’t be a bad thing. For once, she indulged herself. Soon she was back in her night clothes, Yor suddenly contemplating if she could sleep in Loid’s bed or not. He wasn’t home and wouldn’t be for awhile, so…That would be okay?  Yor peeked into Loid’s room, the female seeing Bond sleeping amongst the covers. She giggled, Yor remembering Loid being so adamant on not letting Bond learn “uppies” but looks like Bond was taking the chance as well. “Mind if I join you?” Yor asked, his response being a few swishes of his tail. She slipped into bed, the smell of Loid’s scent hitting her trained nose like a freight train. She always liked her husband’s smell, but their relationship only allowed them to be so close.   It was strange but nothing about the Forger family was normal. For one, all three of them were not related. Everything about them was a lie, really. At least, at the beginning. Now, it was nearly two years into their charade and Yor had most definitely gained something very real for both Anya and Loid. Yor never saw herself as mother material; she raised her brother but she did so with no clue at what she was doing. She was still growing up as well, her faux motherhood lacking in various ways. Now, with Anya, she’s experiencing everything from a mature perspective and now she yearns for a little one of her own. The day on the cruise ship only solidifying her conclusion.  Yor has never been in a relationship either, having been far too busy with raising her brother and keeping her side job a secret. She really saw no reason in partnership until her coworkers began to poke at her about it. She made a pact with Loid soon after to fake being together but now she yearns to truly be with him. Not just on paper. Thin fingers dug into the pillow as Yor nuzzled her face further into the covers. However, she knew that with her and Loid their relationship could never deepen. She doubted herself far too much, the thought of rejection stinging her heart already. She gently huffed, her eye lids closing as she basked in Loid’s natural scent. This will do for now, she supposed. 

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December Contest Submission #13: Shadow Dancing

Words: ca. 4500 Setting: Babylon 5/Legends of Tomorrow AU Lemon: Not full lemon, but citrus C/W: None

Day 0

Elsa stood at the transport gates with Anna, holding one of her carry-ons. The PA overhead crackled to life. “Virgin Galactic Flight 1840 from Mars Colony to New Ahtohallan Colony boards at Gate C7. All passengers must have Identicards with them at all times,” the pleasant monotone droned, causing Elsa to wince from the sheer volume of it.

She turned to regard her sister, who was bouncing with excitement. “Elsa, don’t look so glum! I won’t be gone that long, okay?” she beamed, hugging her tightly, her green plaid shirt wrinkling in the hug.

The overhead PA called Anna’s flight. She grabbed her Interplanetary Expeditions carry-on from Elsa with an eager smile. “Hey, I’ll be back soon enough, and then you can tell me what it was you wanted to talk about this morning, okay? See you in two weeks.”

“Do you have to go?” Elsa asked plaintively, looking out the window at the starships lined up on the runway, ruddy from Mars’ red skies.

“You’ll be fine, Elsa,” she grinned, giving her sister a peck on the cheek.

“Anna… I love you. I-”

“I love you too, sis!” Anna shouted as she flounced down the boarding area, nearly colliding with a dozen other passengers as she tried to both wave to her sister and dig her holographic ID out of her purse.

Elsa sighed as her sister scanned her boarding pass and entered the spaceway. I’m in love with you, she thought, completing the sentence that stuck in her throat. I’ll confess everything when she gets back.

Day 1

Elsa sat in abject shock as the wallscreen in her tiny apartment’s living room played the news on endless repeat. The computer-generated newscaster re-read the story again.

“Virgin Galactic Flight 1840 went missing earlier today, failing to check in at the transfer point on Io. Patrol ships from Ganymede were unable to find any evidence of foul play, and security forces from Mars Colony are en route to assist with the investigation.”

I’m sure everything’s fine. Maybe their transponder just broke and they jumped normally. Anna will call me when she gets to New Ahtohallan tomorrow.

Day 3

Anna never called.

Day 7

“Earthforce patrols still have not located Flight 1840; Governor Montoya told ISN News earlier today that Mars Colony has declared it lost and called off search efforts.”

Elsa sat on the couch, sobbing into her hands. She’d barely slept for a week, eaten nothing, and just watched ISN for any word of her sister.

Declared lost, she repeated over and over again; whether in her mind or aloud, she couldn’t tell.

Day 21

The memorial service was small and quiet; she’d paid enough to get holographic bandwidth on Stellarcom so that her parents could virtually attend. They consoled her as best as they could while processing their own grief.

“There’s so much I didn’t tell her, Papa. So much I left unsaid,” she cried softly.

Her father reached out as though to pat her on the shoulder, the gesture futile. “Were your last words in anger, Elsa?” he asked quietly, his arm around his wife’s waist.

“No, no, of course not. The last thing I told her was that I loved her,” she sniffled.

Iduna gave Elsa a small, sympathetic smile. “That’s all that matters, dear. Whatever happened to her, she knows you love her. We all love her. And we’ll hold out hope that perhaps there’s something mysterious at work, and maybe she’ll return to us one day somehow.”

Day 30

Elsa touched the holographic screen at her workstation with a heavy sigh, closing down her cybernetics work for the day. As one of the top cybernetics experts at Edgars Industries, she helped build the most advanced AI for Earthforce starships. Prior to the incident, she’d loved her work, designing and building the most complex, elegant neural architectures that could steer ships through the chaos of hyperspace or dance like butterflies during the fog of war. She’d had almost a month of personal leave to deal with Anna’s disappearance, but had to get back to work eventually, and now every day felt like drudgery, her mind lost in a fog of fading memories she desperately tried to hold onto.

As she walked the streets of Solis Planum to the surface transit tubes, ad after ad assaulted her, from pharmaceuticals to robotic servants to seedy brothels. She rolled her eyes at most of the ads, but one caught her eye in the transit shuttle from the AVA Corporation.

“Our new Enhanced Labor Service Androids can ease your stress and give you more time back in your day. Stop struggling and working 25 hours a day. With our E.L.S.A.s, help is never far away! Call now or stop by our showroom on Syria Planum,” the ad blared. Elsa chuckled slightly at the name of the machines, but looked more closely at the models shown. One had its artificial hair colored and braided just like Anna’s…

Day 61

“Ah yes, Miss… Agnarsdottir. You called us about our E.L.S.A. models?”, an overly slick salesman with greased-back red hair and absurd sideburns greeted her, electronic clipboard in hand.

Elsa nodded, her shyness making her cringe. “I… I was interested in a model that could support custom code. Do you have any?”

The salesman arched his eyebrow at her. “Well… yes, we do have some more elite models like the N-9 that can support… customization. But pardon me for saying so, those are very… expensive. I’m not sure that they’d be the best fit for someone like you,” he oozed condescendingly, eyeing her casual state of dress.

Elsa rolled her eyes and waved her Identicard over his clipboard. The display immediately flashed her name and public financial history, with a “NO CREDIT LIMIT” indicator pulsing on the customer form. “That should be more than satisfactory, Mr…?”

The salesman coughed. “Err… yes, yes it is. And it’s Hans, Hans Westergaard, Miss Agnarsdottir. Now,” he grinned rapaciously, visions of fat commissions dancing in his mind’s eye. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I need a model that has the processing power to support a custom neural model and as much storage as possible.”

Hans whistled and made a show of tapping on his clipboard. “I see. Well, we have some of the N-8 LMDs available with added processing power, but if you want the best of the best, you’ll be wanting an E.L.S.A. N-9. Will you be using it for business or pleasure?”

Elsa’s stomach lurched at the salesman’s intimation. “Why would that make a difference?”

“Oh, well, you know, some people need them to be a little more… fully functional, if you know what I mean. Anatomically correct,” he smirked. “Of course we want to make sure all our customers are fully… satisfied. Most of our customers who just need menial labor don’t bother with details like anatomy, but I’m guessing if you need neural support, you probably want… fine detail,” he winked at Elsa. “I have one of the N-9s and believe me, if you’re after, ahem, pleasure, they certainly satisfy.”

Elsa managed not to throw up in her mouth and grabbed the clipboard out of Hans’ sweaty hands. She tapped in her order exactly and handed it back to him. “Don’t say another word.”

He naturally began to speak, and Elsa immediately shushed him. “Not. Another. Word. Authorize the purchase, collect the commission of a lifetime, and then never speak to me again, are we clear? Nod if you agree.”

Hans mutely nodded, angered by the woman’s boldness, but cowed by the fact that the commission on the order was larger than any sale he had ever made thus far. He entered in a few final details, silently authorized the sale, the board turned green, and he walked away, fuming.

Day 102

The massive shipping crate from AVA Corporation rested on her apartment doorstep. She wheeled it inside, pressed the release buttons to unseal it, and rested her eyes on the android within. She reached out and tentatively touched it, recoiling immediately. The android was incredibly cold to the touch.

She burst into tears. She’d had the android made to Anna’s exact likeness, but seeing it in front of her, icy cold from shipment, made her feel like her sister’s body had been retrieved from the black void of space. Elsa laid her head down on the android’s unmoving chest, hugging the lifeless body, chanting her sister’s name over and over again through her sobs.

Day 103

Elsa managed to get the android’s body out of the crate and roll it over gracelessly to the couch. Despite its identical appearance to Anna, the android was considerably heavier. Her fingers threaded through the brilliant auburn hair to find the access port on the back of its head and gently opened it up, then plugged a fiber cable into its processor.

She activated the holographic interface at her home workstation and her On-Line AI Facilitator sprang to life. “Hello, OLAF,” she greeted it, its interface a cheerful, simplistic snowman based on a drawing Anna had made as a child.

“Hi Elsa! What are we going to do today?” the snowman asked earnestly.

“I need you to gather training data for a new neural model. The target is an AVA N-9,” she said, weaving her fingers in the air as she began to construct what she intended to be a masterpiece, her life’s work.

“Okay, Elsa. Hey, while I was offline, I was doing some reading. Did you know that gorillas burp when they’re happy?”

Elsa closed her eyes and brought her palm to her face. OLAF was one of her very first neural models, an artificial intelligence that was childlike compared to her recent work, but Anna had loved him, so she couldn’t bear to decommission him.

“Did you know we blink 4 million times a day? Did you know wombats poop squares? Did you-”

“OLAF! Stop. Reset language processor.”

The AI’s snowman face froze in place for a moment before grinning again. “Ready.”

Elsa swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. This was it. Once she issued this command, there was no turning back. “Training data set: download and process all media with Anna in it. Directed graph, eigenvector centrality measure, please.”

After a few moments of processing, OLAF looked up at her. “Hey Elsa, just asking, but do you want to unlock Anna’s private data?” The snowman’s face grew somber. “As her formal next of kin, you have the legal authority to access all her private recordings and logs.”

Elsa paused, sorrow overwhelming her. She’d avoided taking this step as a way of refusing to acknowledge that Anna was gone and not coming back; she’d held out hope for over 2 months that Anna’s ship had just fallen off course in hyperspace or some explanation, any explanation other than the inevitable and obvious, but taking this step would mean admitting to herself that Anna was truly gone. She hunched over, her head in her hands as she sobbed quietly.

“I’m sorry for asking, Elsa. I wish I could give you a warm hug and make it better.”

Elsa caught her breath, the hitching sobs receding. “It- it’s okay, OLAF. Thank you. Y-yes, I would like to incorporate all of Anna’s private data.” She held out her hand over the workstation for DNA identification, authorizing access.

The snowman’s head bobbed as his default smile returned. “Loading. Time to process: 11 days, 7 hours, 5 minutes, 31 seconds. Beginning data import now. Hey Elsa, did you know turtles breathe through their butts?”

Day 113

OLAF chimed gently to let Elsa know the neural model training data was ready. The blonde rolled out of her bed and blearily stumbled over to the workstation. “OLAF… it’s 3 AM. You couldn’t have waited until morning to let me know?” she groaned.

“Oh hey Elsa! Glad you’re awake. Say, did you know-“

“Not now, OLAF. Show me the architecture, please?”

A brilliant, luminescent diagram appeared in front of her, like a giant loom made of golden light, covered in glitter. She touched a sparkling point here or there and was rewarded with an image, a sound, a hologram of different moments in Anna’s life. Golden threads linked one memory to the next.

“OLAF, some of these linkages are much stronger than the others. Look here,” she tapped, revealing an image of her and Anna hugging next to a holiday tree, “and here,” she gestured at hologram recording of Elsa coming home from university and Anna tackle-hugging here. “Why?”

OLAF’s avatar laughed, the snowman’s head coming loose momentarily from the body. “Oh, right. You asked for a directed graph showing how memories are linked together. Those are anchor memories, moments that were reflected strongly in others. If you select the anchor memory and run a trace, you will see the memories that reference it.”

Elsa paused, her hands hovering over the golden lattice. What was she about to discover, delving through their shared history? She gestured at an image of the two of them sitting on her couch in front of the fireplace, mugs of cocoa in one hand as their other hands were laced together. Elsa’s eyes teared up looking at the memory. She ran a finger along the golden line from that to the next node in the lattice, and a hologram of Anna appeared.

She couldn’t. Not yet. It was too soon for her, even now, months after the… incident. Opening this memory, something that Anna alone had made, would be the final acknowledgement that she was gone from her life forever.

Elsa closed the lattice and powered down her workstation, then crawled back into bed.

Day 114

Elsa opened the lattice and looked at the softly glowing memories, then closed it again.

Day 116

Elsa flipped on the fireplace, bright flame and warm air heating her tiny apartment. Martian nights were always cold, even under the dome. She looked at the android propped up against the couch, remembering a time when she and Anna would camp out on her couch, binge watching movies and eating popcorn.

Nostalgia gripped her heart with an icy fist as the android stared lifelessly at the fire, an inanimate reminder of better times.

She pulled open the lattice, saw the memories floating like sparks from the fire, glanced at the android, and closed her workstation.

She still wasn’t ready to hear her sister from beyond the grave.

Day 117

Curiosity got the better of her. She wiped a tear away from her eye with her thumb and, hand shaking, tapped on the linked memory. Anna’s face filled the display space, taking Elsa’s breath away.

“It’s January 3rd, and I have a confession,” Anna said aloud to the camera, clearly nervous even though she was alone. “I just spent the entire evening with Elsa, watching vids and sipping hot cocoa. She made the nicest fire in the hearth for us.” Anna looked down, fidgeting with something out of view. “She- when we held hands tonight, I felt something.”

Anna looked straight ahead into the camera, and Elsa felt like her sister was talking directly to her. She couldn’t breathe, and it felt like her heart had come to a halt.

All of Anna’s nervousness vanished, and her teal eyes flashed as a wry grin appeared on her lips. “I know what I felt tonight. It was true love. I am in love with Elsa. God, it feels so weird to say that. But I know it, I know it’s true love. I’m in love with my sister.”

Elsa came undone.

Day 124

“Language model is complete, Elsa. The neural model is fully rendered,” squawked OLAF cheerfully. “Ready to upload whenever you are, Elsa!”

Elsa paced around her tiny apartment, dodging discarded clothing and other detritus. She’d let things go in the months since Anna vanished; the clutter was a symptom of just how lost she felt without her sister and lover. Subconsciously knowing what she was about to do, she started picking up the laundry and food containers.

“OLAF,” she said quietly, tossing another work blazer in her laundry hamper, “initialize the neural interface and begin transfer.”

OLAF made a series of chirping and squeaking noises, and the android propped up against her desk suddenly opened its eyes as they turned a vivid green, the data transfer beginning. “Hey Elsa?” OLAF asked cheerfully.

“Y-yeah?” she looks up, a load of food delivery cartons in her arms.

“Approximately 44 hours remaining on the transfer. Want to play trivia?”

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

Day 126

The android’s eyes cooled from vivid green back to teal and a soft chime sounded from it. Elsa stared pensively at it, spinning around slowly in her desk chair. She’d propped the android up in her armchair, waiting as the last of the data transfer completed. Her stomach ran laps around her insides.

She glanced at her workstation’s calendar, the day circled to remind her of Anna’s birthday. She suppressed a tear as she turned her attention back to the android.

This is it, she thought. Time to find out whether this was all worth it or not. She unplugged the data transfer cable and closed the port in the android’s head, smoothing out the red hair over the interface. Her hand hovered over the little black control box with a comically large green button lit up on it.

Her hand twitched, as though her body had its own desires to see Anna again. Finally, she took a deep breath and pushed the button.

The android - Anna, for all intents and purposes - blinked.

Elsa cautiously leaned forward in her chair. “H-hi.”

Anna blinked again. “Hi. Hi me?” she asked, pointing at herself. “I am…” her eyes flicked side to side, “Anna. You are… Elsa. You are my… sister?” Wave after wave of memory and information washed over Anna’s mind as she consumed the massive data store Elsa had built. She stood up from the chair and walked over to Elsa smoothly and gracefully to embrace her in a hug.

Cold, she’s so cold, Elsa thought as she wrapped her arms around Anna’s doppelgänger. She doesn’t feel alive. “Hi, Anna. It’s… it’s me. I- I’ve missed you so much.”

“What happened, Elsa? The last thing I remember is leaving you at the spaceport,” she asked. Her memories had included everything up to the last time Elsa had seen her.

Elsa sat down hard on the couch, attempting to control herself and failing. “You… your ship… it vanished after the transfer point on Io. No one has seen or heard from anyone on board that ship since.” A tear leaked from her eye.

Anna reached out with her thumb and wiped the tear away. Elsa shivered at her cold touch.

Day 128

“So you want me to reference the holography and intentionally be clumsy, imitating Anna?”

Elsa nodded, turning around in her workstation chair. “Yes… you, uh, you’re too graceful. Anna had a tendency to not pay attention all that much and stumble over things. It’s… it’s one of the reasons I had to keep our apartment so clean,” she sighed.

The android’s eyes flashed bright green as she processed years of video information. “Got it,” she smiled. She stood up and walked over to Elsa, intentionally catching her foot on the sofa leg and almost perfectly imitating one of Anna’s careless stumbles, her arms pinwheeling in the air before catching her balance.

Elsa’s breath caught in her throat. That was Anna. That is Anna.

Day 131

Elsa woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. She sat up in bed, confused; rations on Mars due to recent shortages meant limited supplies of fresher foods. She tied on her nightrobe and walked into her kitchen to find Anna at the stove.

“Anna? What- where did you get bacon and eggs?”

Anna turned around with a smile. “Oh, I remembered that you love bacon and eggs, and by my count, you haven’t had it in 172 days, so I synthesized some with the protein sequencer you had on your workstation.” She handed Elsa the place, watching her with a small smile.

“It… oh my god, it tastes so real. This is amazing, Anna! How- how did you know how to do that?” Elsa said between bites, a look of bliss on her face. “Anna - my Anna - umm, your predecessor… was an archaeologist. Biochemistry wasn’t exactly her strong suit.”

The android laughed, a perfect imitation of Anna’s laugh. “I know I’m Anna, but I’m also an AVA N-9. I don’t mean to break character, but we all come equipped with varying levels of knowledge we need to do our jobs as servants, and in your case, you bought the most powerful version available, so I come with expert knowledge of just about every profession and hobby. We’re supposed to be whatever you want us to be.”

“I wish you weren’t so cold to the touch,” Elsa mumbled, taking another bite.

“Oh, I might be able to fix that.” Her irises flashed bright green for a moment before she burst into a broad smile. “Yup, you bought that option. The basic service models don’t have a need for body heat, but according to my records, your sales associate authorized the intimate partner upgrade. I can activate it if you want?”

Elsa almost spit out her food, catching herself at the last moment to avoid wasting the delicious breakfast. “Intimate partner upgrade? That slimy, arrogant little shit. How dare he… uh… anyway… yes, activate the… upgrade,” she grimaced, her face colored with embarrassment.

Anna’s pale white skin flushed and colored, and she did a little pirouette.

“Do all your system upgrades involve little dances?” Elsa smirked, giggling a little. She reached out and touched Anna’s arm as the android bowed, hamming it up.

She’s… so warm. She feels real. She feels… like Anna. Elsa practically leaped out of her chair and hugged Anna, savoring the warmth coming from her body. Tears flowed freely as she sobbed in happiness, her arms around her sister once more.

Day 160

Elsa lay in bed, shivering. Damn, the cold never used to bother me, she sighed, wrapping herself up in her blanket. The clock on her nightstand glowered angrily at her, the red digits practically making a scowl at her. 2:12 AM.

She tossed one more time before she heard a familiar knocking on her door.

“Elsa?”

Anna opened the door slowly, dressed in a green nightgown. “I heard you tossing and turning. Are you okay?”

Elsa’s teeth chattered. “I- I’m f-f-fine.” She cradled herself with her arms. “Okay, I’m n-n-not fine.”

Anna climbed onto the bed and pulled the covers aside. “Elsa, you’re freezing! Come here,” she said, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“I… I… Anna…” she stuttered, “Oh, how I’ve missed this, so much.” Out of habit, she cupped Anna’s cheek and brushed her lips against Anna’s. Anna’s lips were perfect. Smooth, warm, firm… Elsa flicked her tongue against Anna’s lips and moaned into the kiss.

“Elsa… I have to tell you something,” Anna mumbled sheepishly, still holding her close.

“W-what is it, Anna?”

Anna laid down on the bed, her auburn hair spilling over the pillow. “The one thing that I’m missing… that I’m sorry I can’t give you, is what it was like to be intimate with you. Neither you nor Anna ever recorded anything; in fact, both of you made a point to turn off the monitoring in here,” she said, eyes flicking at the holocams recessed in the walls. “So… I don’t know what you do or don’t like when it comes to being intimate together. Would… would you teach me? Teach me so I can fully be who you want me to be?”

Elsa bit her lower lip and nodded softly. “I’d like that, Anna. Let’s start with kissing…”

She turned off the lights.

Day 201

Elsa woke to her sister spooning her, Anna’s arm around her middle, and smiled. Anna - she increasingly forgot that Anna was an android she’d built - had not only learned every mannerism and detail of their prior intimacy, but improved on it. She’d never felt so loved, so satisfied, so enveloped in her sister’s warmth and love as she did now.

She sighed happily, then felt the faintest stirrings of arousal. Anna’s hands had started to wander, slowly and gently, tracing small circles around her navel.

“I know you’re awake, Elsa,” her sister whispered in her ear, her lips brushing the back of her neck. Elsa shivered in delight as Anna’s fingertips walked up her torso, tracing the curves of her body with a feather-light touch. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can see the changes in your breathing. And I can smell your arousal.”

“Yes, I’m awake,” Elsa mumbled, blushing.

“Want me to wake you up fully?” Anna giggled, her hands gliding down past Elsa’s navel.

“Oh god yes,” she breathed, biting her lower lip as she turned to face her sister.

Day 491

Elsa peeked over the covers. “Psst, Anna!”

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday!”

“To you?” Anna cocked her head, confused.

Elsa laughed. “It’s your birthday!”

“To me? It’s my birthday?”

“Mhm. And it’s going to be perfect, because you’ve never had a real birthday before. You came online exactly a year ago today,” she smiled, drawing Anna into a hug.

Elsa sighed happily. After the first weeks, Anna had mastered all of her predecessor’s habits, quirks, and mannerisms in almost every aspect of life. And what she didn’t have data for, they recreated.

Except for the occasional quirk, Elsa had almost completely forgotten that this wasn’t her biological sister. In every other way, this was Anna, her sister, her lover, her best friend.

“What do you want for your birthday, Anna?”

Anna tamed her wild mane with her fingers, then grinned devilishly at Elsa. She grabbed Elsa by the front of her dress and pulled her down into the bed, pressing her lips against Elsa’s.

“What I want for my birthday is…”, she licked her lips and grabbed Elsa’s ass, “you.”

Day 900

The door to their apartment slid open, and Anna walked in, weary and haggard. She glanced around. So much had changed.

I suppose that was inevitable. I wonder if she moved on from me?

She looked around the quiet apartment before gently opening the bedroom door. Elsa lay on the bed asleep. Next to her, Anna saw… herself. She gasped.

Elsa shot up out of the bed. “Anna?”

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 20: Jailbird

I’m a bad at math gay, I have one more after this one, and THEN I’ll have my masterpost up ajsdfkdgl

Set post 2.5, prior to the start of 3.0. Uthengentle manages to escape the Braves, but he refuses to leave without a certain companion.

or: Uthen can’t save Raubahn but he can save a chicken, and that’s what he’s gonna do, by god

content warning: mention of use of restraints on a chocobo, but no injuries take place

Word count: 2,450

In the sennight following his revelation about what really happened to the Sultana, Uthengentle did his level best to keep up appearances—though he had begun to lay out what he hoped was a good enough plan to get out while protecting those who would still be trapped in the snare the Crystal Braves had become. In front of Ilberd— and Yuyuhase, who he suspected had far less noble intentions behind his particular brand of villainy— Uthengentle appeared as he had for months, as nothing more than a bitter brother who had made the ‘correct’ choice.

In his dealings with those who he was closest to, those who had given him a cold shoulder, however…he spoke softly. He reached out, for the first time, and nearly wept every time he was met with a relieved, “I’d hoped you’d come around,” every time he did. Suddenly he was warmed by their company again—and they were eager to help him break up the Braves to boot. So long as no one did anything reckless, and nothing suddenly broke out within the ranks…Uthengentle might actually pull this off while sparing as many innocents as possible.

And if something did blow up, as it was wont to do, well. He had thought of that, too.

The morning had been unseasonably cool, with crisp, cloudless skies and a gentle breeze on the wind. That was not to say that it was cold in Thanalan—could it truly ever be, he idly wondered—just that the weather could be described as pleasantly below boiling. As he walked the streets, he averted his eyes to those who looked upon him with disdain, who had spat at him— and worse— when he had worn the Braves uniform. At least now, he fully and truly understood why. He was not there to tarry, however; Ilberd was expecting him, and he would do well to keep up appearances.

Instinctual dread had settled in the pit of his stomach when Ilberd had instructed him to meet at the Royal Stables, where her Grace’s most prized birds were stalled. As if that were not enough cause for concern, he remembered who else’s chocobo was still there, unmoving and belligerent to all who approached him.

Sure enough, he only barely rounded the bend before he heard a muffled commotion, the percussion of a struggle against stall walls only interrupted by a panicked, angry wark!

Swallowing his heart, Uthengentle entered the stables.

The sight before him made him nauseated. Ilberd stood, flanked by Yuyuhase and Laurentius observing a mix of soldiers from both the Brass Blades and the Crystal Braves— but not the Flames­, Uthengentle noted bitterly— struggling to hold down a horrifically familiar snow white chocobo. The poor bird thrashed against the ropes they had tried to leverage to pin his torso down from jumping, his beak gnashing against the muzzle they struggled to put on it.

“Ullr,” Uthengentle said under his breath without thinking.

Ilberd turned toward his wayward protégé, alerted to his presence.

“There you are,” the newfound Braves Commander hailed him, his mouth set in a grim line.

Eyeing Uthengentle’s armor, Yuyuhase pursed his lips. “And not in uniform, I see,” he said in a snide voice.

“Local threw a piss jug at me.” Uthengentle lied easily. “Figured it’d be less disrespectful showing up in something clean.”

Really, he just felt dirty wearing the damned thing.

“You’d be right, Uthen.” Ilberd said, easing his frown into an almost sympathetic smile. Uthengentle ignored the rage that flickered in his chest at the nickname. “Good of you to come regardless. I have a task I would entrust to you.”

Already, Uthengentle could see where this was going. His stomach churned as he fought the urge to fidget.

“I could entrust this to no other, if I’m being honest.” Ilberd continued, oblivious— or uncaring— of Uthengentle’s growing unease. “I’ve been attempting to return this feathered fiend to the Maelstrom—we’ve no use for him, ornery bastard as he is.”

“I could calm him down, sir.” Uthengentle volunteered, hoping it would be enough and he wouldn’t be asked to do what he knew he would be asked to do. “I could even ride him to Vylbrand—“

“T’would be a waste of time and effort, I’m afraid.” Yuyuhase groused, and Uthengentle saw the way his lip curled into a snarl. “The Admiral does not acknowledge your sister’s treachery—“ Ullr let out a shrill wail and bucked his head against a Brave who had managed to secure the muzzle around him. “—and has declared that her crime is not permitted to be released to the public without an investigation.”

No fucking wonder, Uthengentle thought but did not say. Ullr’s cries of anger were muffled by the muzzle now, but they seemed louder than ever to his ears.

“Which leaves us with the unfortunate task of dealing with the bitch’s bird.” Ilberd said gruffly. Uthengentle hid his wince with a cough. “We’ve tried calming it down enough for transport to the Maelstrom, but in the ensuing struggle, one of my men was severely injured.”

Uthengentle highly doubted that was the case, but a part of him hoped it was true. He bit his tongue and nodded gravely.

Ilberd continued, “Now, ordinarily I would be fine with just letting the damnable thing out free, but with such wild antics, we wouldn’t want to put the public at risk of injury, now would we?”

“They’ve got a muzzle on him, sir.” Uthengentle said helplessly. “I can just walk him out to—“

“I would not unduly put any more of my men,” Ilberd emphasized with a pointed look to his lalafell companion. “At risk. Nor the Blades.” He turned to look back at his sister’s beloved companion, who was beginning to thrash harder as the panic well and fully set in. Uthengentle’s heart squeezed. “So I would entrust you to put that axe of yours to good use.” He clucked his tongue. “Waste of a perfectly good bird, but if it’s too imprinted on the Warrior of Light to be repurposed, then it needs to be disposed of.”

“Commander, I could—“ Laurentius spoke up, eager to prove himself.

“Uthengentle has already been assigned the task.” Ilberd said, turning away from the struggling chocobo to face the Arcbane Warrior fully. “Surely this is simple enough, no?” He pursed his lips. “Atonement for your failure at capturing the Sultana’s murderer.”

Uthengentle clenched his hands into fists, reminding himself to be calm because this was the kind of implosion he had planned for— he was only sorry Ullr got caught in the crosshairs.

“I won’t let you down—“ he tried to say.

“Again.” Ilberd cut him off sharply. “You won’t let me down again.”

“…No,” Uthengentle agreed slowly as he breathed out his rage. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Ilberd answered with a nod. He turned his attention to the men who were now pulling the ropes taut to force Ullr to be still. “Tie them off and step outside. No sense in getting your uniforms dirty.” With an almost bored flick of his gaze to Laurentius he ordered, “you, stay behind and help dispose of the body. And you,” he looked back at Uthengentle. “Make it a clean kill, eh? Don’t make the poor bird suffer.”

“Yessir.” Uthengentle ground out.

Satisfied that such unpleasant business was concluded, Yuyuhase was the first to dash off, clearly uncomfortable with witnessing the violence he was complicit in. Such cowards in power could rarely stomach the evidence of their own villainy, after all.

Ilberd stepped languidly back toward the door Uthengentle entered, but stopped long enough to place a hand upon his shoulder. Where that had once been a showing of brotherly companionship, Uthengentle could only liken it to the weight of his mistakes pressing down upon him.

“I know this must be hard.” Ilberd said— and perhaps he meant it, perhaps there was a spark of the man he once was in him that lamented what he had become. It didn’t matter. Uthengentle didn’t care. “But sometimes we have to do terrible things for the good of those lesser than us. For our home.” He squeezed his shoulder—in affection or in warning, Uthengentle couldn’t say. That didn’t matter either. “We know that well, don’t we?”

Uthengentle refused to tear his gaze away from Ullr, watching as the fight was worn out of him. As if he accepted his fate. Quietly, he replied, “I do. More than most.”

“That you do, my boy.” Ilberd said, removing his hand, leaving. “That you do.”

The doors closed, and it was just him and Laurentius, staring at the snow white chocobo in front of them. Ullr let out a low, crooning wark, defeated.

“This…this doesn’t feel like something we should be doing…” Laurentius admitted in a trembling voice. Slowly, he reached for his spear, clearly intent on helping carry out the deed. “But…but it’s just like Ilberd said, isn’t it? We do bad so good people don’t have to?”

“That’s what he said.” Uthengentle said, pausing long enough to give the fool one last chance to make the right decision for once.

“Still…” Laurentius lowered his head. “It’s hard…but we’ll carry it out.”

The disgraced Wood Wailer looked up when Uthegentle clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” the Warrior agreed with him. “Yeah, it’s hard. Damn hard.”

Without preamble, Uthengentle forcibly pulled Laurentius toward him as he pushed his own head forward—just hard enough that the lancer’s forehead met his helmet with a loud, dull clang. Laurentius crumpled to the floor, unconscious but alive.

“My ‘elm’s harder, though.” Uthengentle said conversationally to no one, and stepped over the slumped twofold traitor.

Wark? Ullr looked up, surprised.

“Easy, boy,” Uthengentle cooed, carefully but quickly using a dagger from his boot to cut the ropes holding him in place. “Easy, almost gotcha.” The ropes fell in messy piles much the same as Laurentius had, and once the last of them had been pulled from Ullr’s feathers, he unclasped the muzzle from his beak. “Atta boy.”

Ullr trilled and gave Uthengentle’s face a nuzzle, pleased that he was free and with someone he trusted.

“Now then,” Uthengentle said conspiratorially as he held Ullr’s face. “What say you we track down Ellie, eh?”

Wark! Ullr agreed with an enthused nod and a fluttering of his wings.

The doors had been shut, for a mercy, so he had just enough time to saddle Ullr up before anyone caught wise. He spared a moment of thanks to Buscarron as he mounted the bird— having smelled trouble on the horizon, the barkeep had insisted he stable his chocobo in Gridania for safekeeping. Easy enough to go through there on the way to Coerthas, leash Ullr to his own bird, and make for colder climes.  

Assuming, of course, they made it out of Ul’Dah.

Quick but muffled footfalls were approaching the front. They were running out of time. 

“Alright boy,” Uthengentle leaned over to speak gently into Ullr’s head feathers. “They’ll try to attack us, but we just keep runnin’, alright? We don’t stop until we find Ellie.” 

Wark! Ullr agreed, and Uthengentle guided them out of the back door. 

The sound of the heavy front doors of the stables bursting open alerted Uthengentle to the return of the guard. There was shouting— someone was barking an order to contact Ilberd. He bit back a grin as he spurred Ullr into a sprint down the alley. The shouting rapidly fell away, distantly echoing off the walls of the tightly cramped buildings…

...Only for a new chorus of voices to rise up ahead of him. In a wave of blue uniforms, they flooded the alleyway— with Ilberd spearheading their charge. 

But Uthengentle was prepared for this. Dragoon as he was, he channeled every second of training under Alberic and Estinien he’d gotten— and all of Estinien’s bastard energy he had absorbed— into leveling the sharpened lance at the tip of his axe’s handle, just above its head. He spurred Ullr into a faster sprint.

Ilberd intended to play chicken, it seemed, and doubled down, charging ahead, shield up and sword poised to slash.

But Uthengentle wasn’t willing to endanger Ullr for his own personal vendetta— and he had to get out of Ul’Dah besides. Biding his time until the absolute last second, with a tap of his heel and an order of, “ULLR, UP!” The chocobo leapt onto Ilberd’s shield and, using him as a leaping off point, soared delicately over the crowd of Braves behind him.

Uthengentle spared a glance over his shoulder once Ullr had landed back on solid brick and cackled at the sight of Ilberd knocked to the ground. When the Braves Commander rolled to look at his disappearing protégé, Uthengentle made a point of settling his axe on his back and slowly raising his arm, middle finger up, and held it there as he returned his attention to the road ahead of him.

More shouting— someone called for the gates to be closed to trap him in. Brass Blades began to shoulder past ordinary folk on the path to try and get to the gate lever. Uthengentle refocused and returned both his hands to the reigns. As he saw the gate of Thal descending ahead of him, he leaned further into Ullr’s feathers.

It’d be close, but he had no choice.

“I’ll keep you safe, Ullr, just don’t stop for anything!” He rallied the bird. “Let’s go find Ellie!”

Ullr let out a valiant cry and bent his neck low, pushing himself to run all the harder. The gate loomed overhead like a guillotine as they ran under it— they wouldn’t make it.

It didn’t matter. They had to.

It was a near miss, but with a well-timed swing of his axe, Uthengentle managed to use the momentum from swinging it from his back and use a strong enough fell cleave on the jagged gate spike that it stuttered against the mechanisms controlling it. Sparks showered all around them as they managed to push through, raining down from both the point where his axe blade met the gate, and from the now ground down gears in the pulley system above. With a roar, Uthengentle used that Fell Cleave to push the gate up some fulm above them, high enough they could safely sprint through, and smoothly remounted his axe on his back as they slipped away.

The gate slammed behind them so hard Uthengentle felt the ground shake beneath their feet. Indignant roars reached his ears, but if they were a distant worry before, they were music to his ears now as he eased Ullr into a marathon jog.

They had some ways to go before they made it to Coerthas, after all.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

we fell in love in October

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! 

Summary: One where the reader and Ben were together in high school and left Derry together and when they come back they are married and everyone is surprised to see them still together

A phone call that your entire adult life is based on stacks of self-imagined and wrongful placed memories is best not received in a an overseas, foreign country with your husband ten thousand miles away. The trip it selves originally lasted no more than five days, but after Mike’s ring, you cut it short and immediately booked a flight destination Derry Maine after two. 

It was a work trip meant to educate you on all the new techniques and information you missed out on during your two year hiatus, and the company you represented, Thomas Cook, is an English company, so England was the best place for you to learn.

You and Ben had been away from each other every once in a while, so neither of you made it a big deal to spend a few days apart, but Ben nor you expected the phone call that shook both of to your core.

Following a meeting on etiquette, you returned to your hotel room for the night, unlocking your phone and noticing that you missed a few of ben’s calls. That was odd, considering Ben always patiently awaits for you to initiate contact so he wouldn’t ever interrupt you in case you’re busy.  

You were planning on returning the call the moment you arrived in the privacy of your room, when another person tried to contact you, and this time it wasn’t someone you recognized. The number came from Derry, and although that name sounded vaguely familiar, you couldn’t pinpoint an exact memory to place it.

Thinking that it might have been an assistant reaching out to you, you picked up the phone and listened as the elevator slowly rose floor above floor, trickling painstakingly slower than a snail, and making little bump noises at every level.

The only other person in the elevator with you, a coworker, swore to never reveal the undignified yelp you let out as Mike reintroduced himself to you, claiming to be one of your childhood best friend and begging you to come home to aid in another battle.

It clicked then why Ben never let up the constant stream of messages and bells, and why you always felt like you knew since the beginning of your life, because you had.

Every new thing Mike explained to you solidified itself in stone, as real as the clothes you wore and the floor you stood on. The name pennywise revolted you, every hair on your body standing up in high alert as a fight or flight reaction, transporting you back the summer you turned thirteen years old and an inhuman thing haunted your nightmares and your daily life.

By the end of the call, you craved Ben’s calming presence and his sweet nothing whispers he shook out of his sleeve at times you dreamed of shadows curling up your form and pulling you down to the deepest pits of despair with futile strength.

It made sense now why you blanched every time someone asked you where you and Ben met, or how long you two had been dating before marrying in a forest Ben decorated with fairy lights and flowers that sprouted a smell so delicious you caught a few guest sneaking them with them at the end.

‘Mike?’, You asked right before he launched into another aspect of his story. Part of you felt immensely sad, at the idea of Mike staying behind in Derry, helpless to do anything as you all forgot and moved on, but another part of you couldn’t care less at the moment, talking to Ben the only thing you knew would calm you down.

‘Yeah Y/N?’

‘Did you speak to Ben yet?’ In a way, you knew the answer. The none stop flood wouldn’t exist if he didn’t, but as long as an ounce of doubt remained, you were not picking up.

‘Yeah, I talked to him. Wait, you remember him?’

In a not so proud moment, you ended the connection abruptly, and pressed the icon next to Ben’s name, his contact photo one you snapped when he designed the new home and proudly presented it to you as a surprise.

An answer came at once, before the first ring even echoed, the breathing down the other line harsh and brisk.

‘Y/N, thank god. Are you okay?’ His deep, sturdy voice anchored you back to real life, a tranquility that he somehow always possessed reducing your stress levels.

‘I’m fine honey. I’m fine, are you?’ It’s a throw away question for sure, since Ben would do anything in his power to let you remain sane, and expressing his own worries is not part of that plan. Not being able to be there for your husband when the world is tilted up its head is killing you.

‘Sweets, don’t worry about me, worry about you. I can fly over to England tonight if that’s of any use.’

Frankly, getting to Ben and sifting through the confusing onslaught of emotions and recollections with him lists higher on your priority list above everything else, but you can’t do that to the others.

‘No, Ben listen to me.’ Your voice remains flat and drained of anything other than firmness, a benefit of working with customers you have required over the years. Freak out postponed ‘till you dragged your suitcase from terminal to terminal, for you had to arrange plans first.

Ben would most likely think with his heart and prefer to be around you, but by the time he would land in England and the two you transfer to another plane, the other losers – you named each other that if you recall correctly – may be dead.

‘Book a flight to Derry, and I’ll do the same. I won’t travel as fast as you, so assure the others that I’m on my way.’

‘But Y/N’, Ben protested, his desire to protect you standing in the way of common sense, god you adore this man.

‘Ben please,’ a droplet of tears drip on your cheek, confronting you with the realization that you cried.

‘Okay,’ Ben gives in, the displeasement out in the open, but listening to you none the less.

---

The old clubhouse is not as hard to find as you originally thought, the way to the spot from your old house purely muscle memory that allows you to pinpoint the exact location.

You know the reunion of the losers already transpired yesterday, Ben updating you throughout the night, but your flight only touched base this morning. Derry is an old town with reception towers spaced out and far apart, resulting in barely any communication between you and Ben.

The Derry-Inn was exempt, and so the next best guess as to where they could be was that the losers retreated to the one place radiating with love and untainted by the dirty hands of the towns curse.

The hushed talking under the hatch prove you right, and a smile carefully pokes through the bland face you’ve sported for two days, and regardless of how crazy it might seem, a blanket of safeness falls upon you, creating a barrier between you and the problems about to head on your path.

You reach down to rattle the hatch, a warning that you’re coming down to the others, and the swing it upon, dust flying in your face in such a huge amount it suffocates you. While coughing, your hand flags away the excess dust swarming around you, gulping down breathes of fresh air.

The leader creaks under your weight, but surprisingly you’re not required to bow down to fit into the clubhouse, a comfortable height for you to ease into.

You misjudge the last step, losing your footing and tumbling down the last two trads with a yap at the pain radiating from your feet up your leg, falling down faster than you should have.

Richie shrieks in fear, jumping several steps away from his spot under the stairs to hide behind Mike, the entire losers club swiftly glancing at you.

‘Ha’, Eddie exclaims once his brain catches up to his sight and he apprehends its you. ‘That’s what you get fucker, that’s karma.’

‘Yeah? Was it karma when I fucked your wife as good as I fucked your mom?’ Richie inquires, smirking at the reaction Eddie provides him.

‘That’s fucking disgusting and not the definition of karma by the way.’

‘You guys are clearly still the same’, you mutter, forgoing the pain and observing the interaction between the two best friends.

‘Y/N’, Bev breathes, approaching you with a pep in her step and halting in front of you, allowing you to close the distance and embrace the girl that you forget about yet missed so dearly.

With most of the losers here, it’s hard to grasp that you ever omitted them, for they colored your childhood in so many ways and are intermittent with the person you are today.

Ben shuffles closer too, but waits forbearance so Bev can take her time. The other losers greet you with a smile and a far-off hello, happy to see you again after so long. After Bev stops hugging you and walks away to further explore the shelter, Ben stoops in and kisses you with a short and soft peck. He’s always respectful of you, to the point he usually won’t kiss you in public so you’re comfortable, but this is an exception.

‘Ben, man didn’t you claim to have married someone?’ Richie wonders aloud and gaps at the two of you, resembling a fish out of water.

‘Yes’, you drag out, confusion lilting your words, ‘we are.’ The losers pause, including Mike, the wheels turning in their head to process the new information.

‘You guys got m-m-married?’ Bill questions, his eyes sparkling with happiness for his friends, all the times he psyched Ben up so he gained the courage to ask you out on a date in high school.

‘Yeah for two years now’, Ben proudly proclaims, resting his hand on the small of your back to stable himself and hide the way he falters when everyone zero’s in  on him.

‘In October. Ben arranged the whole thing in the woods with a fairy tale theme.’ You nearly add that it was perfect, but that’s a lie. Something was missing that day, like a stubborn smudge you tried very hard to remove yet remained. You never shared it with Ben, because he thought of every detail and ever speck to a T, and by all means it should’ve been flawless. Maybe that smudge was the insistent memory of your friend not being there to support you like you wished they were. Despite not sharing your concern with Ben, you wonder if he experienced the same thing and was afraid to inform you.

‘Wait, do I remember this wrong or did you guys start dating in October too?’ Bev quizzes.

You peer up at Ben for guidance, but he comes across just as clueless as you. It could very well be, and looking back on it, the two of you did instantly reach a consensus about the date of the wedding. Perhaps the remnants of your childhood manifested in the date, and if they did, the next anniversaries will be extra special than so far.

Right now, it’s essential your focus lays elsewhere, like in how to defeat IT for good this time, so no other lives are cut short because of an intergalactic demon.

Ben links your hands together, a tight grip that lets you know he’s right beside you, and he’s not going anywhere. The two of you together are equipped for anything.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 7/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: Very start of the chapter has mentions of child abuse. Also, a special disclaimer that my knowledge on children’s services and foster custody are very limited. I cobbled together the best I could from Google searches and reading up. And by my estimates, if I hadn’t had a mental collapse two weeks ago, y’all would’ve still been waiting a couple more weeks for the end of this chapter. This fic finally earns its “E”!

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | 

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 7: Signs from the Universe

November 16: Friday

Their second date goes even better than the first, with Killian showing off not only the beautiful apartment he scored when he moved (with every room decorated in such a fashion that Emma is almost jealous of the simple and elegant taste he has), but also his cooking skills which are pretty damn impressive if Emma is being honest. 

It probably would’ve gone even better if they hadn’t been disturbed in the middle of their movie. They’d settled into a comfortable spot on his couch, with her cuddled into his side and his hand teasing the skin behind her knee, slowly igniting a fire within her that wanted to burst free. But no, she had to go help with a drunk and disorderly call because the miner they call Grumpy will only listen to her after a certain amount of drinks for some reason. It’s why David has nicknamed her a magical savior when they have to go down this path. 

And now it’s been six days since his breath had stuttered out when her fingers teased the hair on the nape of his neck. Six days since he’d turned to face her in the low light of the room and kissed her in a way that made her feel utterly cherished and also so aroused she could hardly stand it. She’d just been about to act on all of it when her phone rang and she audibly groaned at the absurdity of the timing. 

Needless to say, it’s been a long six days. 

When Friday finally rolls around, Emma is pretty sure she’s going to walk into his office and climb him like a tree if he’s up for it, but when she gets there, Killian is something about ten degrees past distraught.

Pacing the small space end-to-end, his hair is practically standing straight up and he looks like he’s about to explode as he speaks quickly into the phone pressed against his ear.

“His schedule said that he should’ve been on the second or third bus this morning and he would’ve arrived by now had he taken either of them. I haven’t heard from him, his foster parents have called me six times, and we’re all freaking out just a little bit.”

He looks up, his whole body deflating in defeat when he gets the response from whoever is on the other line. 

“Well, can you call the bus station this time? See if they’ll give you any information?” Killian mouths the word “David” when she catches his eye again. “Thanks, mate. Emma just walked in. Call me if you hear something?”

When he hangs up the phone, he drops into his chair and presses his hand and brace (the attachment for his prosthetic is nowhere to be seen) to his face. 

“Hey hey hey, what’s up?” She takes quick strides around his desk to pry his arms away from his face and works on smoothing out his hair as he looks up at her.

“Henry hasn’t shown up. He’s either been taken or he’s run away.”

A lump of fear settles in her stomach. The likelihood that a foster kid ran away is pretty high; she knows the statistics. Shit.

“I have to go. Robin and I are going to check in some of his favorite places and see if he’s here and just not coming to us. I’m sorry to skip our lunch.”

“No apologies needed,” she says, her fingers absently playing with a chain she’s just started noticing he wears under his shirt. “I’ll help any way I can. But I have to go back to the station and get the Bug.”

“Call me if anything comes up?”

She hums her agreement, leaning up to kiss him again before she heads back out of his office and nearly jogs back to her car. 

Driving around town goes quick. She’s not sure the routes that Killian and Robin are taking, and where David is in all of this, but end-to-end she keeps driving for an hour before she finally parks near the public beach access and sets out on foot. 

There’s no one out here, not on a cold November day that’s threatening snow like this one is, but it’s when the terrain changes again that she catches a weird track. It looks like suitcase marks, but that would be ridiculous in most circumstances. Then she thinks back to her conversations with Killian and the suitcase Henry owns from his previous foster family that he would never leave behind. 

She’s not even all the way to the destination she knows she’ll find him when she texts Killian the location, letting him know that Henry is, in fact, safe when she gets visual confirmation. Physically safe, of course. Mentally? She’s about to find out.

Approaching slowly, Emma leans down to get into Henry’s line of vision and smiles reassuringly. She can’t really see him with the way his hood is up and he’s trying his best to curl in on himself.

“Hey, kid.”

“Emma? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you have a lot of people really freaked out right now. I’ve been out looking for you.”

“Is CPS here?”

“No, no one like that. But your foster parents are on their way and Robin and Killian are out looking for you. Are you okay?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Is it something you’ve done?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going to get mad. And even if it was, I would hear you out and really listen before doing anything like getting upset.”

Henry takes a deep breath, and rather than ask anything at all, he finally lifts his head to look at her. With the way he’d been sitting, there had been a shadow over half his face, but now she sees it wasn’t really a shadow at all. Blooming around his eye, the bruise is going to be quite the shiner. 

“Who did it?”

“Mr. Carter.”

“What happened?”

“I asked if we could go out and buy a new suit for the party next month. I’ve been saving up every bit I can for the transportation up here so I don’t have to make the Carters pay for me. But I haven’t had the chance to do any dog-sitting jobs with the edits and my cash is running low. I told him I would pay him back.”

Emma finishes her approach to the playground, hoisting herself up to sit beside him. 

“Would you like a hug?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just nods and tips over when she puts her arm around him, holding him close as he silently falls apart. 

Distantly, she can hear someone approaching, knows that the text notification she’s getting in her pocket is probably Killian trying to get to them. 

“They’re going to take you out of that house.”

“I brought everything with me this time, just in case they did. Or even if they didn’t. Do you know where they’ll send me?”

“Well, we can talk to them and see if they’ll let you stay with me. I have a spare room in my loft. Or David and Snow have a guest room.”

“Do you really think they’d let me stay here?”

“I don’t know. But the least we can do is try.”

“Henry, you’re okay,” Killian says when he finally gets to them. She can see the second Henry looks up at him because Killian goes completely still, his expression flickering between concern, shock, and settling on a quiet rage.

“Did your foster father do that?”

“We’re going to try talking to his case worker and see if they’ll let Henry stay here with one of us,” Emma says. Henry nods at her words, seeming to fold in closer to her. 

“Of course. I don’t know if a couch will work but I’ll happily lend my home to this venture if necessary.”

“Call David? We’re going to want to get ahead of the Carters. We’ll need Archie and Dr. Whale to meet with us, too.”

Jumping straight into action, Killian pulls out his phone, contacting David and filling him in. Without even missing a beat, he helps Emma down when she starts to shift off the platform, holding out his hook to steady her as she lands on her feet.

“I’m handing you over to Emma now,” he tells David, listening for a beat before giving her his phone. 

“Hey,” she says quietly. She turns to watch as Killian helps Henry off the platform. As soon as he’s off the playground, Killian opens his arms in invitation, and Emma feels something in her chest constrict when she watches the way Henry leans into the hug. 

That was David to her, so long ago. It was David that found her in Florida, that picked her up, that helped put her back together. Struggling past the lump of emotion sitting in her throat, Emma turns away and talks to David about their next steps, only moving back towards them when she ends the call. Killian takes the suitcase that Henry had stashed beneath the playground and together they lead him back towards the parking lot.

Robin is waiting for them, looking just as relieved when the three of them appear from the beach access. He, too, goes through the stages of emotions when he catches sight of the bruise, and immediately he turns into some kind of hovering parent. While Henry and Killian climb into Robin’s SUV, Emma goes back to her own vehicle, taking a second after they drive away to take deep, even breaths. There’s a specific type of panic sitting against her breastbone and she wants to cry, to sob out all her frustrations. She only really cries when she’s angry nowadays, and fuck is she angry at this situation. 

From what Killian said, this kid had it all with the previous family. Had a life worth enjoying, only to get stuck with someone that would dare to hit him because he asked for money. She gives herself a shake, finally shifting the car into reverse and pulling away from the beach. 

It all gets a little more complicated than that when they get back into town. The foster parents show up, insults blazing the moment anyone even looks at them, and it’s clear they’re going to deny ever touching Henry in every way possible. 

“Henry is an upstanding teenager with no prior record of running away or violence of any kind. You’re telling me he went out and got in a fight the day he’s meeting with his book editor and then doesn’t bother showing up because he’s rebellious?”

The way David says it makes Emma proud.

There are long chats with CPS after that, with Emma offering her place but being turned down after she describes her home life and schedule. David goes to step up, but it’s Robin that speaks next. 

“We’d like to take Henry in, if that’s something he would be amenable to,” the other man says, gesturing to Henry first. “My fiance and I have plenty of room in our house. I have a son younger than Henry, so we’re definitely not new to parenting. And neither of us keep anything dangerous in the house. No guns, no medications beyond allergy nasal sprays, children’s medicine, and aspirin. We have a liquor cabinet that only has two keys that stay with us at all times. And our schedules are such that Regina or myself can be there when he gets home from school each day.”

“Is that something you’d like, Henry?” Killian asks.

“As long as you’re sure I’m not invading your space,” Henry starts to say, but all the Storybrooke adults in the room speak at once in a rush to reassure him that it’s no imposition. She watches the bashful smile form and he nods his head, accepting Robin’s handshake when he offers it. 

When they’re all wrapped up for the day, Killian lingers back with Emma just outside the station doors. 

“Do you have anything else to finish up with this?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Plus, David has most of it already started thanks to the digital system. Mostly just dotting some i’s and crossing any t’s that need it.”

His hand tangles with one of hers, and he smoothly lifts it to drape it over his shoulder, stepping into her space a little more after he glances around and confirms they’re alone. 

“Would you like to come to my place? Drink some wine, order some pizza, maybe… stay the night if you’d like?”

“I would, but I’m not going to.” Confusion immediately replaces the sultry look he’d been aiming for. “I want you to go home and sleep. Between the edits and the anxiety over the party next month, and then everything that happened today… Like I said, I always saw you as a neat-stacks kind of guy. And today you were chaos. I have wanted nothing more than a quiet night in with you since last weekend, but you need to unwind and decompress without the use of sex or alcohol.”

He’s looking at her intently the whole time she speaks, a smile starting to pull up at his lips as she continues. Finally, when she’s done speaking, he takes a moment before closing the distance between them and kissing her hard enough that it almost changes her mind. Almost. 

“This is why I like you. You know exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. Would you at least do the honors and drive me home, please?”

“Absolutely,” she confirms, a matching grin on her own face. They move out of the station and towards Emma’s car until Killian stops her short just a few feet away from the Bug. 

“I’ve not had a chance to formally ask, but would you care to be my date to the party? I realize we’ve not been dating long, but I would love for you to accompany me.”

“I’d love to! And tell you what. Why don’t we do that whole pizza and wine adventure on Wednesday? We can decide later if it’s an adult-sleepover type thing or just another date, okay?”

“Aye, sounds perfect.” 

It doesn’t stop her from kissing the hell out of him when they pull up outside of his place, and Killian’s silly grin afterwards is worth the efforts it takes to let him get out of the car without doing it all over again. 

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“Goodnight,” she says back, watching him wearily walk up the path to his front door. She doesn’t drive away until he’s inside and the porch light is turned off.

-x- November 27: Wednesday

Killian Jones is having a shite day. Absolute shite. His computer crashes in the morning, leaving three days’ progress lost to the technological hell he finds himself in. He rubs his eyes when he thinks of the newest corrections he made to the novella, all of the progress lost. He thinks of the press releases he had finally finished drafting up, the wording absolutely perfect. He wishes for rum. Lots and lots of rum, and Emma Swan.

“Hey, you were supposed to - Killian? What’s wrong?” He looks up as one wish enters through the door and he idly wonders if she has rum stashed somewhere on her.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says, roughly rubbing his hand over his face again. “I’ve had a bit of a set-back. I should’ve called.” Especially after what happened last week, he should’ve called her as soon as he realized he was going to have that kind of day. 

After just a moment of lingering in the door, she moves to stand behind him at his desk, working her thumbs into the knots along his shoulders and the base of his neck. He wants to melt into his chair at her touch. His head drops forward and he sighs, letting his muscles relax for a moment.

“I’m beginning to think that bad luck is following you,” she says, her voice low in his ear. He can feel the shiver it causes all the way down his spine and it takes a few quick breathing exercises to stop his body from reacting to her overall attention. 

It’s been three weeks since their first date, and every date after has seemed cursed. There was the one interrupted by a phone call from David asking to help with some kind of public disturbance, and then they didn’t even get to have their date last Friday when Henry went missing. 

“I’m going to bring you some lunch,” she says, giving his shoulders one more squeeze before moving to sit on the edge of his desk.

“You really are a savior, Swan,” he says, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it softly. The smile she gives him eases a little more of the tension in his body and he gratefully accepts the kiss she places on his lips. 

“I’ll be back in five,” she tells him before heading back out of his office.

By the time she returns, he’s at least recovered the corrections and marks on the novella, which makes his blood pressure return to something approaching normal. The press release seems to be gone entirely, though, so he knows the next few hours of work will be spent trying to recreate that. 

“I won’t distract you,” she says, placing a kiss on his cheek as she sets the bag down on his desk. “Call me later, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Emma. For all of this,” he says sincerely, wishing their lunch break could’ve been spent together. Instead of a response, she kisses him again, smiling sweetly and wishing him luck before she slips out of his office. 

That’s how they usually do it - in the short time they’ve been together, he’s worked little routines into their daily lives. Emma doesn’t seem to mind one bit, following along with the well-worn steps they go through. And he’s also found that, in the last couple weeks, he isn’t holding as tightly to the strict schedule he used to keep himself on.

He sighs again and opens the bag of food Emma left him, breathing in the smells and resolving to eat before he throws himself into that blasted press release. 

It’s not the same when it’s finished, that much is obvious, but it’s close enough. When it’s clear that everyone else is leaving for the holiday weekend, Killian compulsively saves the file a few times before shutting everything down for the vacation. 

He calls Emma after he gets all his winter gear on, making sure his earbuds are attached and securely in his ears before he slides on his hat and dials her number.

They’d made plans last week - pizza, wine, a quiet night - and he confirms that they’re still on for said plans as he makes his way through the quiet streets of Storybrooke and back to his home. 

“I could’ve picked you up,” Emma says when she realizes what he’s doing, but he brushes it off and asks her what time he should be there.

WIth their plans finalized, he happily enters his apartment with a skip in his step. To be clear, he’s not expecting sex tonight. Does he want it? Yes. Does he think Emma wants it? There have been many clear indications that she does. So, while he doesn’t expect it, he plans for it just in case, making sure to be thorough with his shower.

When it’s just about time, Killian walks over to her place, letting the bracingly cool air calm the anxious pit in his stomach. It’s good anxiety, this time, but it’s still better to not have it at all. 

He beats the pizza delivery man by just a minute, hustling out of the way as Emma moves to answer the door she’d barely had time to shut. 

“Perfect timing,” she says out loud.

It’s the quiet night they’ve both been hoping for. No interruptions so far, no work distress lingering over their heads. Just the two of them, a pizza, and some time. 

The switch flips in an instant - one moment they’re sitting on her couch discussing how their days went and then she’s crawling into his lap, pushing him further into the cushions as they try to devour each other. This feels momentous; they finally get to learn about each other more intimately when they’ve spent so much time learning about each other. 

It’s clear they’ve both been holding back in the small snatches they’ve found to spend together between their dates. When Emma’s hips settle over his, he groans involuntarily. Being underneath her is one of the most exquisite tortures Killian has ever felt and he would give anything to stay right here, with her almost subconsciously rocking her hips against his as weeks of sexual tension finally come to the surface. 

The latent movements suddenly have purpose, the intent obvious when Emma leans back and Killian can see the heat in her eyes that sends tingles along his scalp and down his spine. 

His hand slides under her sweater, gliding along the smooth skin of her back. With an arch of his eyebrow he asks permission without words. When she nods, he deftly unhooks her bra and brushes his fingers up the rest of her spine. 

“Shit,” she whispers, a smile spreading instantly as she visibly shivers. 

Her hands are slowly rubbing down his chest, resting over his belt buckle, and he draws her back down to kiss her again as she slowly starts working the metal and leather apart. Her fingers are just dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans when the door to the loft swings open and someone comes flying through the door. 

“Sorry to barge in but Granny’s all out of holy fucking shit I’m so sorry!”

By voice alone he identifies the culprit as Ruby. 

“I’m just… gonna go find what I need in the kitchen and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll help you,” Emma finally says, giving him a regretful look as she eases back a little bit. 

“No really, I just need some brown sugar for the apples.” 

When Killian looks over his shoulder, the other woman is holding a hand over her eyes, almost blindly searching for the ingredient in Emma’s cabinets. 

“Hang on, Ruby,” Emma says again, trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, but she’s grinning. He cups her cheek in his hand, giving her a smile of his own. 

“This really was just a shite day,” he mumbles. “Though I much prefer this nuisance to the other ones my day has given me.” He makes sure she can hear the sincerity of his voice as he rubs his thumb across her cheek. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” she says as she stands and holds out her hand to him.

“No, spend time with your friend. I’ll text you when I get home,” he insists, quickly fastening his buckle as discreetly as possible before he kisses her goodbye. It’s sweeter this time, but there’s still a hint of heat behind it and he’s tempted to throw caution to the wind and stay, but instead he bids her goodbye and accepts the kiss to his cheek she bestows upon him. 

When a moment has passed, one must accept it and move along. He knows a sign from the universe when he sees one. 

The walk home is sobering and lonely, much more subdued than the walk over. Killian has gone back and forth in his life on how patient he can be. There was a long time where he took without thinking of the consequences and hurt some people along the way. But with Emma, it all feels different. He feels like he’s waited a lifetime for her and knows he’d be willing to wait another one for something like physical intimacy when there’s so much more to who she is as a woman. 

It’s this thought that follows him through the door of his own dwelling and he leans against the wood for a moment. Alone in the quiet, he accepts the early bedtime he’s about to have, rubbing his hand over his face. He makes sure to text Emma that he got home before wandering through and flipping on the few lights he’ll need for the process of getting ready for bed. 

His text alert pings in his pocket as he’s shuffling to his room to change, and he smiles when he sees Emma’s name across the screen. 

“Ruby’s already apologized a million times since you left.”

He smiles at the message, knowing that Ruby’s apologies have probably been loud and likely detailed exactly what she thinks she was interrupting. Nevermind the fact that she’d be correct, but he’s sure Emma’s face has probably been a permanent shade of pink all through it. 

They text back and forth while he gets ready for bed, with the time creeping up on when he used to so dutifully go to sleep that he’s surprised he’s not really as tired as he’d expect with the day he had. He’s just checked the locks to make sure they’re secured for the evening and goes to turn out the living room light when he hears a knock. 

Killian takes a moment to stare at the door in question, because it’s almost eleven and he’s afraid there will be another unpleasant surprise waiting on the other side. Moving warily, he slides the deadbolt out and pulls open the door enough to see who’s on the porch. He takes in the sight of Emma standing there, in her pajamas under all her winter gear, with what looks to be an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

He swings the door open wider with shock on his face, and Emma grins wide.

“Swan? Is everything all right, love?”

She walks in when he motions her inside and sets her bag on the floor by her feet while he locks everything back up. 

“Everything is fine,” she says, waiting until he’s back in front of her before she tugs him towards her by the collar of his t-shirt. She tastes like toothpaste when he kisses her and he finds the same heat that was simmering before is now boiling over.

When her fingers untangle the knots on his flannel bottoms, he thinks there’s something to be said about bad days having better endings. 

-x- 

After Killian leaves, Emma has every intention of listening to her friend’s food-based crisis and spending a hefty amount of time calming down her hormones. But then Ruby starts a string of apologies as soon as Emma turns to her and explains that she didn’t realize Emma wouldn’t be alone and she’s used her key about a million times before without a thought and…

She does listen to Ruby’s food-based crisis and helps with not just the apples, but an issue with the pumpkin pies as well. Ruby and Granny go serious business for Thanksgiving, after all, and Emma is happy to do her duty to make sure everything comes out perfect. 

When the door closes after her friend, Emma wanders to her room to get ready for bed. She changes into her favorite pajamas and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, all while texting Killian. It’s somewhere between doing her mouth rinse and walking back towards her bedroom that she makes a decision.

She’s in the Bug before she knows it, with a presumptuous overnight bag on the seat next to her. The entire drive leaves her jittery, and by the time she taps on his door, she’s almost sure he’ll be able to see her heart rate the moment he looks at her.

Instead, he’s more worried than anything else at first, and she doesn’t really blame him. When her fingers finally get the knots of his pajama bottoms undone, all previous tensions and fears either of them may have felt have evaporated. 

In the back of her mind, Emma knows that she has to be at David and Snow’s at a respectable hour, but she also knows that neither of them have to go to work tomorrow. This thought and all others vanish from her mind as Killian knocks her coat from her shoulders. She thinks her gloves are next to the bag that got left right in the entryway, but how much can she really care when she draws Killian’s shirt up over his ribs and helps him remove it? How can she focus on anything at all when this solid, handsome, wonderful man is looking at her like she’s a delectable treat he wants to devour whole? 

“See something you like, Swan?” The cocky grin she’s gotten used to over the time she’s known him is back on his lips, his hand and wrist shoved into the pockets of his sleepwear while he rocks back on his heels. The husky tone he uses sends heat between her thighs and she’s absolutely ready to explore this brand new territory.

“Maybe,” she offers back. She’s proud that her voice comes out low and seductive, instead of squeaky and unsure. His chuckle is low as he pushes off the wall. 

“I’m glad you’re appreciating the view,” he says as she pulls him against her.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.”

“It isn’t no either,” he reminds her. She bites her cheek to stop from smiling, thinking of all the times they’ve said those words to each other already. At least this time she’s allowed to shut him up with her lips. 

She feels the thrum of tension just below his skin, can feel it in the way he kisses her back with desperation. She lets instinct take over, instead of thought. She doesn’t think about how tired she is from the day she’s had, or how tired Killian might be. Besides, he doesn’t seem tired right this moment from the way his hand is sliding under her shirt, drawing it up and over her head, his hand immediately finding her bare breasts. 

She gasps at the contact, steps out of her shoes and starts nudging him towards his bedroom. He shifts his attention from her lips to her neck, to the spot just behind her ear. She pauses their route to the bedroom to push him against the wall in the hallway and while his hand slips down to her lower back to hold her close, he hesitates for a second.

“Emma, are you sure?”

She doesn’t respond with words, instead choosing to step back and hook her thumbs into the waistband of the flannel bottoms she wore on the way over, sliding them down her hips and letting them fall to the floor. She watches as his eyes sweep down her whole body, sees the muscles of his jaw clench as he swallows and drags his eyes back up to meet hers.

He doesn’t move, and it takes everything in her power not to fidget in front of him with how intense his stare is. There’s something below the surface between them, something she isn’t willing to look at tonight in the quiet dark of his hallway, or even tomorrow in the light of day. It hasn’t been long enough, and she knows she’s not ready. 

Finally, he brings his hand up. He rests it lightly on her shoulder for a moment before softly running it all the way down until the back of his hand moves over her fingertips. He starts again at the top, this time brushing his fingers over her collarbone, sweeping down and just dusting across one breast and then the other, across each nipple, before he continues down. He places his wrist gently on her hip and urges her closer to where he’s still leaning.

“You’re stunning, Swan,” he whispers in the dark. She bites her bottom lip, running her hands all the way up his arms to rest on his shoulders. When he kisses her this time, it has more to do with tasting than rushing, so she sighs into it, into him, pressing against him. The feel of his bare chest against hers is sweet torture.

She pushes at the hem of the sweatpants now riding low on his hips, stepping back to take in the full picture just as he did. Emma discovers that she could stare at nearly-naked Killian all day if she didn’t have anywhere else to be. She’s surprised her glasses, askew as they are, aren’t fogging up at the sight.

They move in tandem this time, lips connecting, tasting, and nipping. He easily lifts her and she squeaks in surprise, her legs wrapping around his hips. 

“Fuck, Emma,” he grumbles, moving swiftly down the hall and settling her onto the bed.

“Exactly,” she whines, accepting the kiss he gives her as he chuckles, his tongue sliding against hers when she opens her mouth to him. When he pulls away again, she’s smiling at him, but the restraint is obvious in the lines around hers eyes.

“Patience, Emma.”

“I think we’ve shown more patience than either of us expected,” she says with a level look. “You locked the door right? None of your friends are going to barge in? Liam isn’t planning any quick visits to see you, right?”

When Killian moves away from her completely, laughing as he goes to the nightstand by his bed, Emma lets her arms fall above her head on the mattress. His bedroom is warm and cozy, and the heat of her skin from anticipation doesn’t hurt either. 

“Fair enough to assume they might, however, I even engaged the deadbolt and if anyone so much as rings the bell, I’ll knock them to the ground,” he tells her, pushing his boxers out of the way before he stands at the foot of the bed. “Now, a woman as beautiful as you demands my full and prompt attention.”

She pushes up to her elbows, obliging and lifting her hips when he taps one to slide her panties off. With those delegated to the floor, he finally crawls back onto the bed but stays near the bottom. She wants him inside of her, and almost tells him so, but the moment his fingers slide along her entrance as his tongue finds her clit, she decides to utilize the patience he just told her to have.

It’s totally worth it.

The man is gifted beyond reason, taking directions to what she likes with the same attention to details he gives everything else in his life. In past experiences, she’s not always been lucky enough to get foreplay like this, and so she’s surprised at how quickly he pulls her up, up, up and over the edge of climax. 

Giving her a minute to collect herself again, she looks down the length of her body and watches with pointed interest as Killian rolls a condom down his length. He catches her eye, shrugging and smirking at what they both recognize as a skill. Shifting again, he’s kneeling between her legs, the tip of his cock just pressing where she is so ready for him. 

Instead of waiting for him to ask, she grasps his hips and nods, pulling him until he’s filling her up. He rests his head between her breasts, hips already rocking just a bit, enough to amp them both up. She tugs him up to kiss him again, silently begging him to move. Finally, he does, pulling out and pushing back in just a little faster, causing her to gasp and break the kiss. He sets a pace that has her breathing harder, even more so when he nips the top of one breast.

“Bloody hell, Emma, you feel amazing,” his whispers hoarsely against the sensitive skin and it further ignites the fire that’s been building since he opened the door. She lifts her hips to meet his thrusts, hands clutching at his biceps where they’re braced on either side of her head. She breathes out a request for more and he complies, moving his hand as he quickens the pace.

He trails a path from the center of her chest, down her abdomen, ending right above where they’re joined so his fingers find and circle her clit in time to his rhythm. She fists the sheets with one hand, the other slipping between them to press against his as her climax rises and breaks, her back arching off the bed, her head pushing back into the space below his pillows and her eyes shut tight. 

She says his name in a sigh as she comes down and he kisses her greedily, his movements getting jerkier as he reaches his own peak. She pushes her hips up, accepting as he settles deep inside of her with a groan as his orgasm takes over and he drops his head to her shoulder. 

With choppy little movements, he comes back down and settles on top of her. Both of them are struggling to catch their breath, but a hazy smile is plastered on her face and she runs her fingers along his scalp while she waits for him to recover. 

It clearly takes some effort, but he shifts in order to drop into the spot beside her. 

“Worth the wait,” he tells her, rolling close to kiss her before he’s rising from the bed to get cleaned up. All she can do is hum in agreement as she stretches in lazy contentment. As he leaves the room, she opens her eyes and realizes nothing is in focus.

“Watch out for my glasses,” she calls after him. “I have no idea where they fell off but they’re definitely not on my face.” He makes a noise of acknowledgement, and Emma lets her body rest in the comfort of his bed for the short time he’s gone. It could be minutes, or it could be hours, all she knows is she could live this strung out on an orgasm every day for the rest of her life and not complain. 

“Found em!” he calls from the hallway on his way back in. He’s grinning when he enters the room, his own glasses perched on his face as he hands hers over. His arms are full of their discarded clothes and her overnight bag.

“I set out a washcloth in case you’d like to clean up at all,” he tells her as he drops everything on the edge of the bed. 

Heaving herself up, she moves to stand next to him, reaching up and pulling him down for a kiss. “Thanks.” She gives him one more kiss and then smiles, turning and helping him sort out their mess of clothing before she goes to the bathroom with her bag to get cleaned up.

She’s barely settled back in the bed with him before sleep overtakes her, claiming her fast after he wraps his arm around her waist and whispers her goodnight. 

-x- November 28: Thursday

When he awakens, it’s to the November sun trying its hardest to break through the clouds. Trying, but definitely not succeeding. Though the weather may be doing its best to soldier on into winter, none of that reaches the warmth and comfort of Killian’s bed, especially when Emma stretches beside him. 

“I’m not gonna lie,” she says as she burrows further under the covers. “If I didn’t have to stop at David and Snow’s and make an appearance at Granny’s later, I would be finding a way to convince you to stay in this bed all day.”

“It wouldn’t take any convincing at all, just for the record. What time is this dinner?”

“Five o’clock. Are you going?”

“And miss my opportunity to listen to you all gripe about how this American tradition is born on the genocide of the people that inhabited the land while still eating turkey and mashed potatoes? Of course I’ll be there,” he says, turning on his side and propping up on his wrist. He fixates for a moment on the way the blankets are leaving one of her shoulders slightly exposed, running his finger along the only bit of skin that’s visible.

“That sounds accurate,” she says, her voice going a little breathless when his hand slips below the blanket to follow the lines of her bicep. “And until then?”

“By my calculations, we can have a little bit of that aforementioned time in bed,” Killian says with nonchalance. 

Emma’s expression morphs into a happy grin and she scoots closer. “If you get me coffee first, there’s a lot of really great ways I can think to repay you.”

“Coffee it is,” he murmurs, pressing forward to kiss her before the moment slips away. 

-x-

Chapter 8

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Prompt: Cry me a river, I cried a river over you.

Part ONE:

The train northbound was packed, not unusual, but it made Claire feel exposed. She’d begun crying the moment she’d received the phone call and hadn’t stopped since. It was the reason she was using public transport in the first place and not driving - the last thing she needed was to be involved in a car accident because of her impaired vision.

Adorned with inappropriately large sunglasses on a dismal day, with her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck to hide as much of her face as possible, she had boarded at Oxford, her chest tight as it suddenly dawned on her that she was trailing all the way up to Glasgow and she wouldn’t be seeing Lamb alive.

“Christ…” she sighed under her breath, her eyes tingling once more as the tears began to build.

Her uncle, Quentin Lambert, had been settled in Scotland for some time - something quite odd for him, he was definitely more of the travelling sort. He’d started on a memoir that he’d meant to publish and had, on several occasions, asked for Claire’s companionship and assistance. Caught up in her own drama, she had declined and the guilt sat low in her belly making it almost impossible to eat or sleep.

A gentle Irish train guard pulled her from her dark thoughts and she quietly pulled her ticket from the small purse that sat open on the food tray in front of her before going back to staring out of the window.

Parents both dead by the tender age of twelve, Claire had been sent to live with Lamb. His life as a traveling archeologist was not suited to raising a child and he had tried to place Claire in a boarding school - though she had other ideas. Smiling, she thought back to the day she’d finally pushed the headmistress of the school too far causing uncle Lamb to have to cut short a sudden trip to India and return to England to fetch her. She remembered fondly throwing the stupid boater she’d been graced with as part of the uniform into a nearby hedge as they’d driven away down the long drive. Her formative years had been spent in the desert - surrounded by her uncles peers, graduates and students, she had learned to fend for herself.

Though she had good memories of her mother and father, it was Lamb who had raised her through her most difficult teenage years and at the end of his life, when he had so desperately wanted to involve her in his hobbies once more, she had forsaken him for silly follies.

Lost to her guilt and self-loathing, she completely lost track of time and it wasn’t until the young woman sat next to her rose from her seat that she realised the train had come to a grinding halt.

The battle through Glasgow Central train station gave her a moment to focus on something else, her heart racing and her hands clammy as she pulled her rather large suitcase through, nudging and shoving tourists and locals alike in order to make it out onto the street.

Her name shone in bright red ink, the sign hiding the face of the man who held it as she shook her head.

“I h-hadn’t called anyone?” She said, shocked that there was anyone here who would know her.

“Aye, ye did. The other day. I thought it would be easier for ye if someone was here to collect you rather than spend more time on yer own.”

“Oh.” She replied. The word stuck in her throat as she recalled the very short phone call she’d made to the funeral director a few mornings prior when she’d booked her train ticket. A simple nod to the man who’d been emailing her and organising as much as he could with her hundreds of miles away. “Are you with the funeral company then?” Claire found it odd that any of them would be worried enough to come out and collect her personally - but was grateful at the same time. Riding in the comfort of a car without having to hunt down a taxi, make inane conversation and then struggle to find her uncles address made the end of the journey just a little easier.

“Ah,” he replied, finally pulling the sign low enough that she could see the bright mop of red hair that sat proudly above a glowing set of blue eyes, “nah, I’m no’ with them. I’m Jamie,” he continued, holding out his free hand for her to shake. “Jamie Fraser. I was working on the book with yer uncle. I work with the publicist he’d hired. Did he tell ye?”

When she didn’t respond, he simply smiled and continued as if the small twitch of her lips was enough. “I’m a ghost writer. He was struggling to write himself, so he hired me to type whilst he spoke, told me all sorts of stories and I, in turn, edited it, re-worded it sometimes or just added it to the appropriate section of the book.”

Guilt reared its ugly head again, making Claire understand more fully why Lamb might have wanted her company so badly and she bit her lip to contain the tears. Repeating herself, she swallowed audibly and nodded, “oh…good.” Making it sound sincere, she smiled as much as she was able before allowing him to place his arm softly around her waist and guide her towards his waiting car.

The ride itself was quiet and uneventful. Claire needed the time to decompress the situation, her brain going from nought to one hundred in the short twenty minute car journey. They approached the quaint brownstone property on the outskirts of the city with little to no issue. It had its own private garage and Jamie flicked a switch on a small remote to open and close the large grey-brown door. Taking the stairs in a small passage way, they made their way up onto the first floor, Jamie opening and closing everything behind her as well as carrying her heavy case.

“So,” she spoke, her voice husky from her constant sobbing, “how long have you known my uncle?” Though she knew it must have been long enough for him to entrust the lad with a key to his home and his car.

“Nearly three years now, going on for four. We were…” stopping, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve clearly choked up by recent events himself, “well, we were so very close to finishing. Part of me thinks it should be me who writes the ending, ye ken, for his memory. But I dinna even know where to start.”

“Shit.” Cursing, she turned her back on Jamie and held her hand over her mouth. She wanted to scream, to cry, to punch something…mostly she wanted to turn back time and relive all of the times she’d said no to coming up here and turn them into a yes. Just once would have been enough, and she knew it. Just one time, she would have arrived and never left… “I should have been here.”

“He spoke of ye often. Yer in the manuscript, if you want to read it?” Avoiding her self flagellation completely, Jamie placed his hand on her shoulder and offered her an olive branch. Though he couldn’t deny her deprecating words, it wasn’t his place to say what she should or should not have done. He could see the guilt drawn plainly on her face, though he couldn’t see her eyes he knew that they’d be red rimmed and she seemed so incredibly tired that he couldn’t bring himself to add any more blame at her door.

“T-thank you, Jamie. For everything. For clearly being here for him when I wasn’t. I’m sure you were a dear friend.”

Knowing her uncles proclivities - even from a young age - she knew his interest in young men rather than ladies and part of her, in her grief, wondered whether he had become more than just a friend to Lamb. But her instincts told her now was not the time to pry.

“I would really love to read it.”

“We have a few days until the funeral, how about I email you the first draft. It’s open ended, mind, so dinna worry about the sudden stop.”

“Thank you.” She said again, taking his hand, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it softly as she turned to find her way upstairs. Halting at the door she assumed to lead her that way, she turned -removing her glasses as she did so. “I’m so rude, sorry, is there a guest bedroom here? Somewhere I’d be alright staying for a few weeks?”

“Of course! And dinna be daft, ye arena rude at all. Ye’ve just lost someone dear to ye. I’m all over the place too, so I canna imagine how you feel.”

Though she got the distinct feeling that he could.

“Can I ask how long ye intend to stay for Claire? If ye dinna mind?”

Having been a trust fund child living off the money gifted to her from her parents’ death, she’d had no worries in the years after her graduation. The estate had been in the family for hundreds of years, friends of the family the same, and she had finished both her BSc and her Masters in History before going on to complete a few of her own independent research papers whilst living off that inheritance. Oxford, although her home for many years, held little to return to and her heart almost stopped at the realisation as the dread crept along her veins.

“A month, maybe. Once the funeral is done I want to stay and finalise his estate. The lawyers have already been in touch but it might take a while to go through everything that was in his name, notify them and so on. Do you live here, Jamie?” She added her question quietly, as if the asking of it might infer something else.

“Ach, no. I moved in for the last few weeks. I think he kent it was nearing the end and wanted the book finished. He insisted that was the best, so that we could work day and night as we needed. But I have my own place across the city.”

‘I should have been here…’ the statement rattled around in her head once more, the ghost of it returning to haunt her. If she had, things might have been different.

“First on the right as you get to the top of the stairs,” he whispered, seeing her pupils dilate and her lips clench as she lost herself in thought. He could see that she desperately needed some time to herself, to cry and to deliberate on all the things left undone and unsaid between her and Lamb, “it’s got a double bed and an en-suite. He meant for ye to have that room and it’s all been made up for ye.”

Nodding, she held her purse tightly and rushed off up and away from him, leaving her suitcase there. Seeing the room, she let herself in, closed the door and flopped against it - her body feeling boneless as she slumped down and curled herself into a ball, crying as the words of the last song she’d heard on the radio, a Michael Bublè classic to add some irony to the situation, in the kitchen swirled around her crowded mind.

[whitetigerdemoness]

In Japanese folklore when a fox steals your appearance to make mischief you will be bed ridden so there are not two of you seen at once.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR HANGING AT THE END!

Master post of all chapters

Adrien vowed to get Luka something really, really nice for his birthday this year. The man was an absolute saint. Viperion had nonchalantly volunteered to ‘assist’ Queenbee in keeping Penknight in check while Ladybug and Chatnoir ‘searched for Volpina’, which was code for the two exhausted heroes going home and getting some rest. It helped that Viperion was charming, handsome, and a surprisingly smooth talker. Adrien suspected that was because Luka’s platitudes were genuine and not just lip service. Chole had thankfully been too smitten to hear Penknight grumble ‘who is chaperoning who here?’ as the bee heroine flirted shamelessly.

All in all getting Chole to agree to let her room be a temporary safe house had taken a lot less begging than any of them thought it would. Sabrina had seemed eager to help as well, happily ferrying drinks and snacks to the visitors. Chatnoir and Ladybug took their leave hopeful that when they returned in a few hours the penthouse room would still be in one piece. 

From there the two heroes snuck back into school to collect their things (class had been canceled for the day due to the ‘stress’ of seeing Lila attacked on TV) and separated to go to their own homes. When Adrien had detransformed, Plag had been surprisingly serious for once.

“I hope you know what you’re doing kid.” The little kwami intoned. He always seemed to know what had happened when Adren was Chatnoir. The blonde guessed that made sense since the spirit basically possessed him.

“I know a lot could go wrong with us knowing each other’s identities, but I trust Marinette. No matter what happens, everything will be okay in the end.” He hoped. One step at a time, and his next step was convincing Nathalie to cancel his afternoon appointments. Nathalie, who was waiting in the foyer with his father. Adrien gulped, this couldn’t be good.

“Adrien, would you care to tell me where you have been the past two hours? Your school called to inform me the day had been cut short, but when I sent the car for you you were nowhere to be found. Your bodyguard is still out searching for you.” Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

“Father I-” Gabriel held up a hand.

“I do not want to hear your excuses. Ever since you started public school your studies have slipped. You have missed appointments, and your health has begun to slip. I can tell just by looking at you you are exhausted, an unfortunately common occurrence as of late. I recognize you are getting older my son, and thus have tolerated your bid for independence so far, but clearly you are not ready to handle these responsibilities. I have already informed the school you will not be returning. An early dinner has been prepared. You will eat, and then go to your room until I call for you in the morning to discuss what happens from here.” Gabriel didn’t even wait for a response, turning on heel and stalking into his office without a backwards glance.

Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat as he obediently followed Nathalie to the dining room. This was fine. He could make this work. He had had more time when he was homeschooled, sometimes finishing his lessons hours before normal school would let out, depending on how hard he worked. Wouldn’t more free time be better if he was going to continue to be Chatnoir? This didn’t mean he had to stop seeing his friends, father hadn’t said anything about that. He still had their numbers and emails. He could still see them after school hours and on weekends. 

Yeah. This would work out. This...was...fine….

------------------------------------

Nathalie caught Adrien as he slumped to the side, the sleeping drugs in his food easily taking over his exhausted body. She felt mild regret that it had come to this, but Andrien had been given a chance to side with them and scorned it. Nathalie did not blame him, he was still just a child. He didn’t really understand how complicated the game they were playing was. Taking him out of it would prevent him from being hurt in the long run.

“Sound asleep already? Poor kitty must be so tired from chasing that black spotted rat around all day.” Volpina dispelled the illusion that had been hiding her. Nathalie slipped the black cat ring from Adrien’s finger as Volpina lifted the boy over her shoulder.

“Take him directly to his room. Hawkmoth will be displeased if there are...detours.” Nathalie didn’t trust the fox akuma, but Gabriel had insisted she was paramount to his plans.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt a whisker on poor sweet Adrien. I’m glad he’s going to be safely tucked away from all of this, I would hate to have to hurt him.” The older woman frowned, following the akuma out. No, she did not trust the girl at all. Hopefully this would all be over soon, Emilie revived and the Agrestes a whole family again with no need for magic or duplicit allies. 

After confirming Adrien was tucked safely into his bed, Nathalie and Volpina joined Gabriel in his office to present him with the cat miraculous. 

“Excellent work. Never before have we been so close to victory.” The man grinned, clenching the miraculous in his fist. Nathalie shared in his joy. Soon, soon this would all be over. She missed Emilie just as much as anyone. She missed her kind hearted friend.

“So what’s the plan to lure out Ladythug and her merry little band of misfits?” Volpina asked, eager to play her part.

“Ladybug’s allies are exactly what we should be worrying about. Penknight and his would be lover may have failed me, but they did have some use. They wore down Ladybug and Chatnoir into making one very, vital mistake. Volpina, today your reputation was destroyed beyond repair. I think it only fair you do the same to Ladybug. I do not care what you do, but make it vicious, lasting. A great failure to this city even a hundred miraculous ladybugs could not erase.”

“Oh, I have the perfect idea. Though I need to wait until nightfall to carry it out. The impact on Paris will be so much sweeter when they wake from their safe slumber to realize they were never safe at all. In fact, I guarantee you that there will be so much negative energy in this city by the time I’m done, you’ll have an army of akuma’s ready to do your bidding.” Volpina’s eyes glittered with wicked excitement. 

“Catalyst stands ready to assist you, Hawkmoth, should you choose to go this route.” Nathalie affirmed. They were so close, she could endure one more transformation.

“Yes…it may come to that. Go, carry out your plan Volpina.” Gabriel dismissed the akuma, who gleefully vanished into an illusion. “As for you Nathalie I have a different mission. We can only assume Ladybug is in a similar state to Adrien. This is the perfect time for Hawkmoth and the new Chatnoir to pay the guardian of the miraculous a little visit.” He purred, slipping the cat miraculous onto her finger. Nathalie knew Emilie would always be first in his heart, but in her own secret one she dreamed of the day the three of them could be together again.

“Yes, sir.”

----------------------------------------

“Marinette, Marinette! Wake up! Please, something awful has happened!” Tiki sobbed in her ear, jolting her awake. Marinete lurched up in alarm, just barely noting the time on her digital clock. It was nearly five am, and she had crashed as soon as she had gotten home. She had been asleep for over twelve hours. She had only meant to take a nap!

“Tiki, what’s wrong? Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” 

“You were so exhausted, I was going to let you sleep for as long as I could, but I should have woken you when you wanted. I never thought this could happen.” The little kwami drew her attention to a ladybug shaped box sitting on her bed. “It showed up just minutes ago. Oh Marinette, the master…” Tiki cried.

The master? Marinette thought, hugging the distraught kwami. What did this box have to do with him? Using her free hand, she poked one of the black spots. To her surprise, it popped open, revealing a small compartment with...the ox miraculous inside? With a growing sense of dread, Marinette began opening more compartments, finding more miraculous. She stopped cold when a compartment near the top revealed the turtle miraculous.

“Tiki...is this...the miraculous box? What is it doing here?” Marinette knew she hadn’t felt the most charitable towards the old man yesterday, but that didn’t mean she wished him harm. The way Tiki was reacting, Marinette feared something awful had happened to him.

“It’s an emergency ritual to pass on guardianship of the miraculous in times of need. Normally a new guardian is chosen after years of training and the miraculous are passed down during their training, with the previous guardian to mentor them. There have been times in history though when evil have taken a guardian and used them to gain control of the miraculous. This ritual was developed for that. The current guardian names their successor, magically transporting the miraculous to them. In the process, the guardian’s memories of all things miraculous are erased. For Master Fu to have used this ritual, something terrible must have happened.” Something like Hawkmoth? Marinette wondered. 

“Well, there’s one way to find out.” She said, picking up the turtle miraculous. Wayzz glowed into existence. 

“Master!” The green kwami shouted, paw outstretched. When he saw only Marinette, he deflated. “Oh.” He sobbed.

“Wayz, what happened? Where is Master Fu?” Marinette asked softly.

“He...Hawkmoth found us. We transformed into Jadeturtle to hold him off, and it should have worked! Master should have been safe! But…” Wayz paused, head down. “Ladybug...Chatnoir is no more. The cat miraculous has a new wielder, a woman calling herself ‘Panther’, and she is allied with Hawkmoth.”

Ice dripped down Marinette’s spine. She couldn’t breathe. Adrien, Adrien. She had to-! 

“Marinette, stop!” Tiki gasped as she frantically fumbled for her phone. “Stop, think! If Hawkmoth has Adrien, calling him could lead Hawkmoth right to you!” 

“I need to know if he’s ok!” Marinette said at the same time Wayz exclaimed “She knows?!”

“She, they found out today. So did Hawkmoth, about Adrien. I had hoped Plag would convince Adrien to give up his miraculous once they were alone, but perhaps that was foolish. Plag has never been one for rules.” Tiki glumly floated over to rest on the miraculous box.

“Hawkmoth found out his identity and you let him keep his miraculous?” Wayz shouted, incredulous. 

“I didn’t think...I didn’t think.” Marinette whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, before she furiously wiped it away. “No, this isn’t over yet. Hawkmoth may have the cat miraculous, but we have the rest. Good always triumphs over evil in the end. We can fix this.” She vowed, missing the worried glance the two kawmi’s gave each other.

----------------------------------------

“Penknight, please. If I drink anymore water I’m going to explode.” Marc whispered as the akuma tried to coax him into drinking another glass.

“Are you sure? The doctor said you’d be dehydrated from the medication.” Penknight fretted. “Hydration is important!”

“Where was this attitude a week ago when you drank an entire pot of coffee by yourself?” Marc wondered aloud, amused.

“That’s different. We had a deadline.” Penknight huffed.

“Yeah well, if the two of you don’t shut up and go back to sleep we’re going to have a dead akuma.” Chole growled in exasperation from her bed, pulling the covers over her head. “The sun isn’t up yet and you shouldn’t be either. Honestly.” She huffed. “Why did I agree to babysit the two of you again?” The actual babysitter, Viperion, only snored softly on Chole’s couch. The spot had been occupied by Marc until only a couple hours ago, the boy haven woken up and been unable to get back to sleep.

“Because the chance to kiss up to Ladybug was more tempting than telling us to get lost?” Penknight grumbled resting his chin on the top of Marc’s head. The chair was really only meant for one person, but they were making it work.

“I’ll sting your mouth shut if I have to!” Chole threatened, throwing off her covers. The fact that she had been forced to sleep in her clothes due to her company had only further soured her mood. 

“Please don’t sting him, Chole.” Marc sighed, and hugged the arms around his middle. “Penknight, please stop antagonizing Chole. She was nice enough to let us stay here when she didn’t have to.”

“Listen to your boyfriend, Kurtzberg. He’s obviously the one with all the brains in the relationship. Though I have to wonder if you’re killing them with your ugly face. Honey,” She said to Marc “You do know you are WAY out of his league right?”

“I’m just really lucky.” Penknight sighed into his hair. Marc could feel his face heating up. He didn’t agree with Chloe, if anything Nathaniel was the one who was out of HIS league. He was still coming to terms with the fact that the other boy apparently liked him back. Assuming his feelings were real and not some weird side effect of his akumatization.

The black haired boy was broken out of his thoughts by a knocking on the glass doors that lead to Chole’s balcony. Standing there in the beginning dawn was Ladybug, decked out like she had robbed a jewelry store. Floating around her were many different little...animals? Huh. That medication must be stronger than Marc thought.

“Ladybug!” Chole squealed, rushing over to let the heroine in. Viperion blinked as he sat up on the couch, startled awake by the sudden noise. 

“I’m glad to see everything is still ok here at least.” Ladybug sighed as she came inside and closed the door behind her.

“Has something happened Ladybug? Why are you wearing so many Miraculous?” Viperion asked in concern, approaching her. Ladybug looked grim.

“I don’t know when it happened, but Hawkmoth has Chatnoir’s Miraculous, and it gets worse.”

“Worse? How could it possibly get worse than that?” Chole gasped.

“Ladybug is the master now because the previous master had to use the emergency ritual to get us away from Hawkmoth!” One of the little animal spirits, which looked like a mouse, squeaked. 

“Those are kwami.” Penknight, breathed into his ear, noticing his confusion. “They have something to do with how the miraculous work. Chole has one too, though Pollen has been mostly keeping to himself.” Now that the akuma mentioned it, he did see a bee like creature next to Chole. Marc wasn’t sure how he missed it before. Must have been Chole’s natural demand for attention that had diverted his.

“Mullo! Let Ladybug tell the story!” One of the other kwami scolded. It kinda looked like a horse. The mouse creature peeped out a quick ‘sorry!’ and darted behind the ox one.

“That’s actually the gist of it. The ritual removes the previous guardian's memories, so he should be safe from Hawkmoth trying to get information out of him, but in the meantime we need to come up with a counter offensive to rescue Chatnoir.”

“Um, I actually don’t care about that.” Penknight commented, raising his hand.

“ ‘Knight!” Marc exclaimed, wiggling out of his lap. 

“What? I’m an akuma. I don’t care what happens to the miraculous.” The akuma pointed out, hands ready to catch Marc if he fell. Marc wanted to roll his eyes. His leg was broken, he wasn’t an invalid! Still, the concern was sweet.

“You do care what happens to Marc though, right? Volpina is still at large and certainly helping Hawkmoth. If he wins, she won't rest until she’s gotten her revenge on Marc for what you and Prism did to her. Helping us defeat him will keep Marc safe.” Ladybug reasoned.

“Well…” The akuma hesitated.

“Chole! Oh my god, Chole! Turn on the news!” Sabrina, who had gone home when her curfew was up last night, burst into the room in a panic.

“Sabrina! Can’t you tell Ladybug is talking? Don’t interrupt!” Chole scolded. Sabrina for once didn’t listen to her. Instead she flew to the large tv, fumbling with the remote. 

“-The victims are still being identified, but we have reports that Jagged Stone and our own Nadia Chamak are among them.” Marc recognized the reporter as one who usually did late night reports. What was he doing on the early morning news? The man was pale and clutching his notes so hard it looked like he was going to rip them. He also looked like he was going to be sick.

“The images we are about to show you have been censored, but are still very graphic. Viewer discretion is advised.” The screen cut to many images of people, of corpses hanging from buildings and street lamps around Paris. Near each victim were the same words over and over again; ‘Ladybug did this’.

Ladybug herself screamed and fell to her knees, her wailing almost drowned out by the cries of the various Kwami as the final image was shown. This one contained two corpses, one that was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and...Chatnoir. Viperion wrapped his arms around Ladybug, hiding her face in his chest as she sobbed. Chole and Sabrina clung to each other, shaken. Marc felt Penknight support him as his legs gave out beneath him. Written next to the two figures were simply the words;

“You’re next.”

[hymn2000]

Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C15

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, family conflict, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 15 - A Heart Has Many Secrets

-

Getting ready for school the next morning felt incredibly strange; almost foreign. Getting up early hadn’t been easy. He didn’t have an appetite, which nearly led to a bit of a ding-dong with Loki, who was very insistent he needed to eat anyway. And, as if tensions weren’t high enough, Loki broke the news that he had to go to work so wouldn’t be able to take him to school.

-

Peter wasn’t happy being in the car with Tony, and he made his feelings very clear. He’d become very good at keeping silent since becoming a member of the Stark household. Tony wouldn’t be deterred though, and kept talking, offering unwanted advice, reassurance, and generally chatting away as though he were actually getting an answer from the teen beside him.

Peter tried to dive out of the car as soon as they parked, but Tony grabbed his arm.

“Hey” he said. “Come here”

Tony hugged him, and Peter pulled away furiously. Tony kept hold of his arm a moment longer.

“Be good, sweetheart. I’ll see you after school”

Peter scowled, and Tony reluctantly released him. Peter took great pleasure in slamming the car door behind him. Oddly, as he walked towards the main building, he didn’t feel as though he’d been away all that long. He didn’t feel nervous either. In fact, he felt quite calm; although he was certain he could see huge changes on the horizon - far above what he could imagine.

-

Peter seemed to have inherited Loki’s flare for a low-key but poignant entrance. Oddly, as he walked into his form room, and was met by the shouts and voices of so many, he felt so free. In a way, he felt like a felon who was to be released while everyone else was left behind. Let’s be honest; he’d never quite managed to fit into this high-class school in the way everyone had hoped. And he didn’t care. He wasn’t sure how homeschooling was going to go, but he felt so calm looking at everyone, that he was certain he wasn’t going to miss this.

-

Going to his music lesson after lunch was the only thing that almost made him change his mind about the school. He’d grown to be quite close to Mr James since starting private lessons. Mr James was so down to Earth, so unlike a lot of the other teachers, and so supportive of Peter’s playing, and always seemed impressed with all of his progress.

“It’s good to see you again, kiddo” he said, shutting the practice room door. “How have you been? I heard about what you did”

Peter shrugged noncommittally, but he looked a little embarrassed. 

“Don’t worry” Mr James said, squeezing his shoulder. “I was a right little terror when I was a kid. When I was your age, I’d been expelled four times”

Peter looked at him.

“Yes, really! If someone hadn’t shoved a saxophone into my hands, I probably would’ve got expelled from the last school too! Incredible how much music can help you turn things around”

Peter nodded, sitting down at the piano, running his fingers along the keys. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve had any chance to practice. I hope you’re not too rusty”

“I’ve got one at home now” Peter said, and then started slightly, surprising himself.

It surprised Mr James too. “Nice! I’ve gotta say, kiddo, I imagined your voice a lot different”

Peter could feel himself blushing, but Mr James just smiled.

“It’s nice to hear it. Now, fancy showing me what you’ve been working on?”

Peter swallowed, turning to the piano properly. He felt nervous now, and he was still surprised that his voice had jumped out. But maybe... maybe that meant he could perform properly here. 

Maybe.

But he couldn’t think of what to say, and Mr James could see his hesitation.

“Why don’t you do something we were working on first?” he suggested. “Clair de lune?”

Slow, but long. A good way to ease in. Peter understood his choice. It had been a little while since he’d played anything classical. He watched Mr James find a page in a book and set it in front of Peter. He’d managed to pick up a few notes, but he didn’t really need them. He knew this track well enough; it was so popular. 

It was nice playing it, though. Something so familiar, and calm, but somehow dramatic too. He didn’t feel like he was playing the music, but more like it was playing him; making his fingers glide almost effortlessly across the keys. He started feeling much more relaxed, much less nervous and embarrassed. Maybe he’d miss this. All these calm, practice room moments... 

“...That was perfect” Mr James said. “You’re incredible. I’ve never known someone learn so fast, and so well”

“Thank you...”

“You know, I do lessons outside of school. If you wanted to continue after you leave”

“I... I’d have to ask dad” Peter said, not quite looking at him, his voice small.

“What have you been working on?”

Peter shrugged slightly. He’d been playing a lot since getting the piano, mainly to drown out everything else that was happening. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to play. Maybe something fast, or something complex. Maybe...

“I’ve got one, but it’s kinda... long”

“That’s alright. So was the one we just played. If there’s anything you want to show me, just go ahead. This is your lesson, your learning, and your talent: you don’t have to let other people decide what you do with it”

Peter looked at him. He’d played strange and wonderful things to him before, and he trusted him - both his music judgement and personally.

Mr James listened, unsure if he recognised the tune at first, and then startling when Peter opened his mouth.

“You tell me there's an angel in your tree. Did he say he'd come to call on me? For things are getting desperate in our home, living in the parish of the restless folks I know”

Mr James watched him. He’d only just heard him speak, so finding out that he had a voice - and one like this - was a bit of a shock to say the least.

“Burn down the mission, if we're gonna stay alive. Watch the black smoke fly to heaven, see the red flame light the sky. Burn down the mission, burn it down to stay alive. It's our only chance of living, take all you need-” 

And it carried on like that, with power and passion, and very few wobbles, and all too soon, voice and keys petered out, and the practice room was filled with a moments silence.

Mr James merely leaned closer. “What else have you got?”

Peter couldn’t help but grin, and he knew exactly what to play now. Something a bit tricky. But something he knew well enough after all the times he’d played it.

"-But where were all your shoulders when we cried? Were the darlings on the sideline, dreaming up such cherished lies? To whisper in your ear before you die”

Something that had started as a way to show off a bit soon turned into something to enjoy, and in his usual fashion, he got sucked into the music deeply. He wasn’t even distracted by Mr James gently correcting his posture as he played.

“Junk.., angel.., this closet's always stacked. The dealers in the basement, fillin’ your prescription for a brand new heart attack. But where were all your shoulders when we cried? Were the doctors in attendance saying how they felt so sick inside, or was it just the scalpel blade that lied?”

Peter shivered, but he didn’t miss a note. He didn’t let up, hardly even opened his eyes, until he’d tapped out the last few notes.

Once again, there was a moments silence. Peter looked at Mr James, biting his lip nervously. The man looked back, and smiled.

“You’re a special case, Peter Parker-Stark” he said. “You should sign up for the end of term show”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do, and I think it’s a great idea. You don’t have to sing, but you should definitely play and show everyone what you can do. Go out with a bang”

-

Peter was ready to tell Loki all about his day, so he was pretty furious when Tony turned up to collect him at the end of school. Luckily, Tony was on a work call, which eliminated any awkward one-sided conversation. He was still on the call when they got home, so Peter wasted no time in getting out of the car and darting upstairs. He rushed to Loki’s room, but stopped outside, hearing voices.

“...As long as there’s a decent school within walking distance, that area would work well” Loki was saying. “What are the public transport links like? I had a hire car so...”

Peter stayed quiet, pressing his ear up against the door. What on earth was he talking about? He must be on the phone, but who to? All this talk of schools and transport and amenities. It was almost as though-

“PETER!”

Peter jumped so violently he smacked his head on the door frame.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right” Tony said. “What are you doing, eavesdropping like that?”

“Daddy’s on the phone” Peter mumbled, rubbing his head. 

“I’ll ask you again: what are you doing, eavesdropping like that?”

“Being nosy, I guess”

“Come here”

Peter looked at Tony properly, remembered he was supposed to be giving him the silent treatment, and scowled, annoyed at both of them. Tony sighed, deciding he had better things to do than argue.

“Go and get changed. Now”

Peter didn’t really have a choice, not with Tony watching. He shut his door behind him, throwing his bag down and pulling his tie off. Typical of Tony to sneak in undetected at such a crucial moment. Tragically, there was an en-suite and a cupboard between Peter’s room and Loki’s, so he couldn’t even listen through the wall. He’d have to get his answers some other time.

-

Peter got changed, checked the coast was clear, and snuck back over to Loki’s door. Loki was still on the phone, although the conversation seemed to be coming to an end. 

“-Like I said, it’s still just an idea. It’s good to have all the fact first though. Sorry...? Yes, of course... Thanks again, chick. Talk to you soon. Bye now”

Everything went quiet, and Peter stood where he was, even more confused than before. Loki only called people he cared about ‘chick’. Who could he be talking to? 

As he was considering the options, Loki’s door opened, making Peter jump. They looked at each other.

“Hello, you” Loki said, closing his door behind him.

Something was off here, Peter knew it. “Who were you talking to?”

“Maggie, one of the ladies I worked with in Scotland. You know, I told you about her?”

Peter nodded slightly. He’d heard a lot of stories about Loki’s time in Scotland after he’d got back from his sabbatical. He used to talk about it a lot, but he hadn’t heard him mention it much lately. Although... he’d been looking at houses for sale, hadn’t he?

“Peter? Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” Peter shook his head slightly. “Sorry”

“Never mind, sweetheart” Loki said, kissing him on the forehead. “Do you want a hot drink while I’m making one?”

Peter shook his head. He watched Loki go, and then looked back at the door. If Loki was just making a drink, he usually just left his door open. Peter knew that he was being overly suspicious, but he wanted answers. So he opened the door and slipped into Loki’s room. 

Loki’s tablet was on the bed. Peter tapped the screen, hoping it had only just timed out. No such luck: it wanted a password. Well, Peter knew a lot of Tony’s passwords, but he’d never managed to guess any of Loki’s - aside from his phone password. Peter abandoned the tablet and picked up Loki’s phone. He tapped in the pin he remembered - and the phone opened. He sat on the bed, looking through the phone. Loki hadn’t lied; his last call had been to Maggie. More than an hour, it had been. He looked through the notes on the phone. Most of it was the usual stuff: extra shifts, household tasks, ongoing shopping lists, something about Tony’s prescription, and then something titled ‘Peter’.

Peter looked up, checking the door, and then clicked on the note. It was another list: School, Room, Tech, Piano, Swimming?, Music, Drama?, Routine. Bike???

Peter looked at the list, confused. He had absolutely no idea what was going on here. What was the thought process? He closed the notes, glanced up, and spotted a notebook, just the corner poking out from under the pillow. He picked it up. It looked old, with curled corners and a well-thumbed front cover. He opened it, finding more notes - but this looked more professional, and upon closer inspection, he suddenly knew what it was. This was Loki’s old notebook from when he’d been working in Scotland; notes on the kids he was helping look after, everything from history to medical appointments to nighttime routines. Why would he be looking at his again? Nostalgia? But, if it was just nostalgia, why would he be hiding it? He liked talking about it; they were used to it in this house now. So why the secrecy? Or was Peter just being paranoid?

He put the notebook back, and picked up Loki’s phone again, opening his recent texts. There wasn’t much. Nothing to people in Scotland, anyway. He opened his latest texts to Tony. ‘Back at 3 x” read the last one. Above that wasn’t really much of interest. Lots of saying when they’d be back, asking if the other needed anything, quick ‘I love you’ texts, that kind of thing. But when he went back further, he found what looked like an argument, and he clicked the back button, sharpish. He knew his parents argued sometimes, but he didn’t like thinking about it. He sighed, and put the phone down. He was just being silly. 

He stood up, and something crackled beneath his foot. He crouched down, taking hold of the folder. It was a new one, evidenced by the price sticker still in place. He opened it, surprised at how thick it felt, and surprised even further by what he found inside. All of a sudden he felt a bit sick, and hot, and on high alert; his pulse beating in his ears. He took the papers out of the folder, looking through them properly. Job adverts, some of them. Information about residency and citizenship and things like that. And property listings. Lots of them, with notes and bullet points written on them in Loki’s familiar scrawl. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the words - and then the door opened. Peter jumped, and gasped a little, looking at his father. 

Loki carefully set his mug of tea down on the nearest cabinet. Peter couldn’t move, only watch, as Loki came over to him. 

“And what” Loki said, dangerously quiet. “Do you think you’re doing?”

“I-I-I was just-” his hands were shaking, and he dropped everything. “Ah! I- Sorry!”

He went to pick everything up, but Loki put a hand out, stopping him. Peter stayed as still as he could while Loki gathered everything and put it back in its folder. Loki stood up, dragging Peter to his feet too. He left him stood there and put the folder into the little lockable filing cabinet by the desk. 

“Daddy, I-”

“Not a word” Loki said. “I know exactly what you were doing”

He picked up his phone off the bed, opening it and clicking the button to see the recently viewed items. Peter had definitely taken leave of his senses, leaving everything out in the open like this. 

“I-I’m gonna go” Peter tried.

“No, I think not” Loki said. He held a hand up, and the door slammed shut. 

Peter swallowed hard. Loki hadn’t looked at him properly since he’d walked in, and Peter’s senses were screaming at him. He wished he’d just left everything alone.

“You came into my room without permission” Loki started, setting his phone down on his bedside table. “You go through my personal files, y-”

“Why have you got all that stuff? Is that from when you were in Scotland before? Were you gonna stay a lot longer?”

“Peter, do you really think that’s important?” 

“...Is that a yes?”

Loki looked at him. “You try to get into my tablet. You get into my phone, you look at my private notes and messages”

“Not all of them!”

“Found your tongue, I see” Loki said. “You went through my things, you came in here without permission, you’ve invaded my privacy and you’ve betrayed my trust in you”

“I-I didn’t mean to! I just heard you on the phone and I thought something might be wrong and I wanted to find out what”

“And you didn’t think to just ask me?”

Peter stopped, and he felt himself blush. 

“I’m really not happy with you, young man”

Peter looked down, shuffling on his feet. “...Am I in trouble?”

“YES, you’re in trouble!” Loki snapped, making the boy jump. “If you’d listened instead of interrupting, you’d know why. Although, judging by your face when I caught you red-handed, you already know why. You know you’ve done wrong”

“Mm... I didn’t mean to”

“What did you think would be the outcome, if you came in here and started going through my things without permission, and got caught? Did you stop to consider that?”

“Well...”

Loki folded his arms over his chest. Peter took a step back, and dared look at his father, at the look in his eyes, and the slight tremble of his left arm. 

“I’m sorry”

Loki didn’t say anything. He sat down on the bed, resting his head in his hand.

“...Daddy?”

Loki stayed quiet, thinking. Was he right to be this angry? Was it really as bad as he though it was? Had any real harm actually been done? What should he do? Punish the boy in the way his first, second, and third instincts were telling him to? Let him go without consequence? Risk him doing it again, and maybe finding more? He’d found so much in eight minutes. How much could he find in an hour? He might even reach the right conclusion if he had long enough.

“Get my tea”

Peter did as he was told, surprised by the request, but still cautious. He watched Loki sip his drink and sit up a little straighter. It looked like he was calmer, like he was relenting. For a moment they looked at each other, and just when it looked as though Loki was about to say something, there was a knock, and the door opened.

“Hey, a- oh, you’re both here” Tony said. “What’s going on?”

Loki sighed. “I found him going through my phone and private things”

“What?!” Tony marched over, the look on his face bringing a new meaning to Hell Hath No Fury. “How DARE you?!”

“I-”

“No, don’t interrupt!” Tony snapped, making him face him properly. “You shouldn’t have been in here without permission anyway! How dare you betray our trust like this? Why I-”

Loki watched them, feeling absent. He watched the way Tony spoke to Peter. The way he snapped at him. And then the way he shouted at him. He looked at his hand on the boys wrist, keeping him there. He watched the way Peter tried to shut down the situation, the way he tried to explain but kept getting cut off. He saw the look in the boys eyes. 

“I’m sick to death of your behaviour! I never would have gotten away with acting like this, and neither are you”

Tony tugged the boy close and hit him hard. Peter’s squeak, the next smack, and the sound of the boy crying broke Loki out of his dazed state.

“Tony!”

“He’ll never learn if we don’t discipline him” Tony said through gritted teeth, bringing his hand down again. 

“I’m sorry!!” Peter cried.

“There” Tony said. “You’ve had an apology now”

“He’s already apologised!”

Tony didn’t seem to be listening. Loki stood still for a moment, trying to think about things rationally. But another horrible smack, followed by the sight of his son howling and begging his father not to hurt him anymore was more than enough to make up his mind.

“Tony, stop it!” Loki grabbed Tony’s wrist. “You’re being too hard on him! It’s not that big a deal, and certainly not enough for you to be hurting him like this! Stop it now!!”

“He can take a few taps, Lolly” Tony said, but he let go of the boy.

Loki quickly moved Peter away from Tony, shielding him as he hugged him. 

“Are you alright?! Be honest with me, honey”

Peter covered his mouth with his hand, keeping his eyes averted, sobbing. Loki hugged him tight, protectively, willing the boy to stop shaking. He glared at Tony over his shoulder.

“You’ve scared him, you bastard!” he all but shouted. “You can’t take out all your pent-up emotions on our little boy!”

“I’m not!” Tony protested. “I’m being a parent”

“You’re being a bully” Loki shot back. “Do you want him to go and live with Thor, is that it?”

“What are you going on about?”

“That’s what happened last time you didn’t think he was safe with you. If you don’t sort yourself out, he’ll have to go again”

“Lolly, darling, you’re tired. Let’s talk about this in the morning” Tony said awkwardly.

“No, let’s talk about it now” Loki said, sitting Peter down on the bed and turning to Tony properly. “I don’t care how much you want to deny it, we both know you’ve been horrible to Peter ever since you got those DNA test results”

“Are you surprised? It’s a lot to process!”

“I know it’s a lot to process! But that’s not a reason nor an excuse for you treating him so badly. I can’t be here all the time, and-”

“Loki, I’m not being horrible to him! He’s the one being a little nightmare!”

“He’s being fine!”

“He was going through your stuff!”

“And I was handling it! You didn’t need to barge in here and launch an attack, did you? You’ve hurt him multiple times since that appointment, and the scariest part is you seem to think it’s just discipline or something, or you’re just a very good actor. You can’t seem to see that there’s a difference between a firm smack and an absolute wallop like you’ve been dolling out”

“I haven’t been that harsh!” Tony insisted. “...Have I?”

“Who in their right mind would react to those results the way you have? Thank god our kid is the only one, if this is how you are”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You talked to that Asgard man?” Peter piped up nervously.

“Yes, I did, sweetheart, even though it put me at risk of bumping into all the other bastards up there, because you asked me to, and you needed to know. And so did I”

“...He’s really the only one?” Tony said, suddenly a lot calmer.

“Yes, and I’m bloody glad of it too, and not in the least because you’ve reacted so badly to this that I’m not sure I even trust you around him right now”

Tony didn’t say anything, but he looked shame-faced. Loki didn’t look any happier for it.

“You need to face up to this and start acting like a proper dad again. Your denial is doing no one any good, and your way of ‘processing’ your emotions is damaging us. But it’s starting to seem more and more unlikely that you’re ever going to accept this new reality, unless you’re forced to” he said. “And maybe doing that is a good idea”

Loki picked up his phone, checking the time. It was still fairly early. Good.

“What are you doing?” Tony said.

“Making you face up to this”

“You can’t do that!”

“Watch me”

Peter flinched at the struggle that followed. Part of him wanted to jump in and make it stop, but he felt like he’d already caused enough trouble for one day. Tony was no match for Loki anyway. Peter looked at them. Tony had ended up on his back, hands trapped by his sides, with Loki sat on top of him with one hand holding his phone, and the other over Tony’s mouth. Something about it seemed to be evidence of truce - or at least, something close to it.

“Hello, Marco, my love” Loki said. “Have you got a pen? Perfect. I’ve got a little something for our press release”

Tony tried to struggle and get Loki to stop, unsuccessfully. He looked over at Peter for help. Peter knew what that look meant, but there was no way he was going to jump to Tony’s aid, not after how hard he’d hit him. He flopped against Loki’s pillows and hid his face so Tony couldn’t throw any more signals at him.

“Word for word, darling, promise me that now. You can choose a little opening if need be, mind” Loki was saying. “Everything ready? Beautiful. So, this is what I was thinking” Loki cleared his throat. “Due to recent findings in our personal lives, my husband decided to carry out a paternity test on himself and our son, under the guidance of our General Practitioner. Having now had time to process the results, we are happy to announce to the general public the wonderful coincidence that our son, Peter, is also my husband Tony’s biological son. While shocked by the discovery, we still remain the same family of equal parents and child. We will not be available for interview and ask that our families privacy be respected during this time”

“Nice... Nice, beautiful” Peter heard Marco saying over the phone. “Great! Tony got anything to add?”

Loki paused, his hand still over Tony’s mouth. “Tony Stark is not available for comment”

*

[ijustwanttoexist]

Love Isn’t Just a Walk in the Park Pt. 5

I wanted to say a very heartfelt thank you to @universereboot for donating to my ko-fi. It means a lot to me, and I really, truly, greatly appreciate it. I definitely cried again. So I hope you like this newest part, because it’s dedicated to you.

Also, the now customary reminder that I don’t work with dogs/pets, so if I include something in my fics that is dangerous to animals, please let me know and I’ll be sure to post about it so we can keep all our animals safe.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Pairing(s): Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

It’s a week and a few days after the photo shoot, and Geno is spending a rare afternoon alone in the store. It’s been slow lately, and he surprised his employees with a day off. It’s a nice day, and he knows they both appreciate it after the scrambling and stress the photo shoot had caused and how boring the slow times can be.

Sidney hadn’t been in that morning to walk any of the dogs, hasn’t been in since the photo shoot, not that Geno has been paying attention to that. Not that Geno has been sulking about that, worried he’d said or done something wrong in their brief interaction before things got crazy. He hadn’t even really been able to say goodbye to Sidney since the man had been kept busy from the moment they had started to the moment Geno and the ladies had left, and probably past that.

Geno idly scrapes at a bit of something caked to the counter with a thumbnail, unsure what it is but sure that it shouldn’t be there, when the bell above the door rings.

“Hello and Welcome,” he says, secretly hoping it will be one particular person. It’s not, but it is someone he recognizes, one of the players on Sid’s team.

“Hey,” the guy greets as he walks up to the counter. He’s young, long and lanky, and has an amount of facial hair too much to be considered scruff, but not nearly long enough to really be a beard. “Sid said this would be a great place to adopt a dog.”

Geno feels his smile grown. “Yes, best place. Want anything specific, or just want to browse?”

“Well,” he says--the man’s name sits at the edge of his mind, he thinks it starts with an M probably--“I was hoping for something big, something I could cuddle with that would do well in Pittsburgh winters and when I bring it back home.”

“Where’s home?” Geno asks.

“Canada,” the guy says, and Geno just resists rolling his eyes. He could have guessed.

“Have puppy, just came in. Ever heard of Newfoundland dogs?” The man gives a noncommittal shrug, clearly unsure if he has or hasn’t. Geno pulls up a picture on his phone, and begins extolling the virtues of the breed, as well as common behavior problems and the necessary care requirements.

They spend the better part of two hours going through all the necessary information--Geno fighting the urge to ask about Sidney the entire time, reminding himself to focus on the work--before Geno even shows him the puppy. It’s clumsily chasing it’s tail in it’s kennel, and trips over one of it’s front paws just as it comes into view. The man coos over it, and it’s quickly obvious the man is going to take this dog home.

“Does he have a name,” the man asks.

“Yes,” Geno says, “but is young. Can change now if you don’t like it.”

Between the two of them, they gather up a basic starter set of things the man will need for his new puppy, chatting amicably the whole time about seemingly everything but hockey.

It’s as they’re finishing up the transaction and combining everything for easier transportation that the man seems to come to a decision.

“Y’know, Sid talks about you a lot.”

Geno freezes just as he’s shoving one of several chew toys good for puppy teeth they’d selected into a bag. He swallows and looks at the man, unsure what to say.

“A few of the guys were curious, because he hasn’t talked about someone like this since the last person he dated. I drew the short straw.” He says, and gives a self-conscious shrug. “Or really, I was voluntold because I was in the market for a dog. Two birds, one stone.”

Geno gives an absent nod. “And? What you think?”

“I think I can see why Sid likes you. The question is, do you like him? And if you do, what are you going to do about it?” Geno snorts.

“I’m just friendly store owner.” He shrugs as he says it. “What would attractive, famous, not out hockey player want with me? Balding, have a bad back, not so good English.” He could feel himself exaggerating his accent.

The hockey player gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“Sid isn’t closeted,” he goes with. “Everyone on the team and in management knows he’s bi, as do his whole family. He last boyfriend came to a lot of games and a lot of family events and bonding barbecues. Just because the general public didn’t know doesn’t he was hiding it. He’s a private person, and he doesn’t post anything when he has a girlfriend either.

“And honestly, not to be rude, but literally no one will care what you look like, or if your English isn’t great. We have a rookie right now who only knows hockey terms and has a translator with him whenever he’s off the ice. The only thing any of us will care about is if you make him happy, make him smile, stuff like that.

“And, y’know, as long as you’re not just dating him for fame or money.” The last part is said with a dangerous edge. “Because we’ll know, and we have experience protecting our captain from people like that.”

Geno snorts at the man.

“If I wanted famous, could have stayed in Russia and been a coach. Money, same thing. Wanted to be happy, be myself, see cute animals every day.” He gestures around them. “Have what I wanted.”

“And what do you want now?”

Geno shrugs.

“Want Sidney to come back and walk best dogs again,” he answers, because this conversation makes him think maybe Sid has been avoiding the shop, avoiding him even. “Want to talk to him, see nice smile, hear awful giggle at best jokes.” He shrugs again. “Want him to ask me so I know he means it. Want him to meet my friends, want to meet his, want to get to know him outside my work and his.

“Want a lot of things,” he finishes.

He packs the last of the other man’s purchases into bags, and helps him carry them out in complete silence. The man waves at him as he drives off, and Geno waves back. Then he goes back into his shop, locks the door, and flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

It’s been slow lately anyways, and he has a lot to think about.

[tendernessfic]

555326 [Romanogers]

DISCLAIMER: Please be aware that although this version references existing universes/dimensions, I have written this in accordance with the timeline of events in the MCU.

Vormir, 2014.

The cold breeze swept through him. It was not a good chill and he knew it. He could sense the grief that the place bred, the devastation it caused. Doubts on whether or not his plan would work clouded his thoughts. He had no way to test it out, he had to simply do it and see.

The stone burned brightly behind in his left hand, while the other tightened its grip on Mjolnir.

This is gonna work, Steve.

I know it is, ‘cause I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t.

“Rogers, Steven. Son of Joseph.”

From afar, he could see the black cloak Cloat Clint had described, slowly making its way into his full vision. Then, he appeared.

He stepped forward, “I thought the dead were meant to stay dead.”

“But death did not take me, young boy,” he replied while walking in the direction of the abyss, “you thought you won, but you are wrong once again, as you were back then.”

Steve studied him carefully, he did not seem surprised at the reunion, nor was he afraid of his presence.

“Tell me, what is it that you seek?”

“I think you know that my purpose is not to seek, yet to return something that was taken.”

His eyes shot up as he stood, clearly alarmed that his assumption was true, “My boy, that is not a mission you shall complete.”

With a slight head tilt, he smiled, “And I think you should know by now that I complete my missions, whatever it takes.”

He held the hammer towards the sky and clouds gathered, followed by the sound of deafening thunder and a bolt of lightning striking his right arm. He could only imagine the look on Thor’s face if he had seen what just happened. Oh, how he missed his dear friend.

It was no surprise that fear overtook the face of his enemy for two seconds, before he started bolting towards Steve. Steve calmly walked forward while swinging the hammer, then hurled it towards the skull, immediately knocking him over.

He then rushed to where his body laid, and placed his foot on the skull’s chest to prevent him from getting up, “You were never meant to receive freedom,” he spat, “not after all that you’ve taken from us.”

“I have paid the price for my freedom, and I’ll be damned if someone takes it for me.”

“Well,” Steve shrugged, “then you should’ve given up when you met me.”

With that, he tossed the stone over the abyss as the skull cried out in desperation. A bright light overtook him and before he knew it, all he saw was black.

…

“Steve,”

He felt someone nudge his side. At first, it was a soft nudge, then it increasingly got harder.

“Wake up already, you can’t expect me to believe that killed you?”

His eyes fluttered open. Amidst the blur, he saw a tinge of red and smelt a familiar scent. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it is but it made his heart race. And as his vision came to, he could not believe what or rather who was crouching down in front of him.

“Nat?”

She grinned, “Nice to see you too, soldier.”

Placing her hand behind his back, she helped him sit up and dusted some dirt off his shoulders. Still in complete shock, Steve simply stared at her with his mouth wide open. Nat laughed and nudged him, “Bet Thor took that really hard, huh?”

“What?”

She pointed at Mjolnir, “You and his baby.”

Steve chuckled, “Actually, he knew all along I was worthy.”

“Okay big guy,” she raised her palms in the air as if surrendering before standing up, “clearly the hammer might’ve malfunctioned or something but whatever makes you happy.”

As he stood, he took a good look at her. She looked incredible and exactly as she did before he lost her. And so he took her into his arms and held her tight, “This can’t be real.”  

He could feel her smile against him, “I missed you too.”

Steve took a good look of his surroundings, it didn’t seem like they were in Vormir. There was a light shade of yellow all around them, and nothing else but shallow water under their feet.

“Where are we?” he asked.

She let go of Steve and smiled, “Take a walk with me?”

“It would be an honour, ma’am.” He said as he bent down to pick up the hammer.

She scoffed, “Do me a favour and leave that, you won’t need it here. Trust me.”

So he did. The two of them walked towards nowhere in silence for a while, before he spoke up, “Everyone is going to be so happy that you’re back.”

She let out a sad laugh, “You asked where we were. We’re not on Vormir anymore.”

“Then this must be some sort of alternate dimension, right? You’ve been trapped here all along?”

She halted her steps. Steve noticed her shoulders stiffened as she brought her arms around her.

“Steve, I’m not going back.”

He walked around her so that he could see her face. She had a look of content.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, “When I did it, when I jumped, my soul was released from my physical being and I was brought here, into this world. Now that the stone has been returned, I can be released.”

He frowned, “Which means you can go back, right?”

“It’s simple really,” she took a step forward, “think of spilt milk. Once it’s out of the carton, you can’t get it back in.”

Steve felt his heart shatter, “B-but Nat, I returned the stone, I-I fixed the timeline everything's meant to go back to how it was-”

“But how that is how it is, was and ever will be, Steve. I jumped. I made that choice. You brought the timeline back together but it was always my destiny in this universe to jump. I’m not meant to go back Steve.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, “But where will you go?”

She shrugged, “Don’t know. You always said that there is only one God, even after meeting Thor. So I guess I’ll find out, won’t I? Man, it’ll suck if I find out Thor’s the one judging me.”

“Nat that’s not funny.”

“I’m serious,” she laughed, “I don’t know where I’m going after this, but I’m thankful it’s you I get to spend my last moments with.”

He sighed, “But what about Bruce?”

She smiled softly, “You and I both know that there’s a reason why you’re here right now, and not him.” Steve looked away shyly, but she placed her palm on her cheek so she could look at him, “Bruce will be fine. And so will you.”

He placed his palm on top of hers, “This isn’t fair.”

“Well, that’s our reality. Maybe in another life.” She tiptoed and placed a soft kiss on his cheek,

“Go find her, Steve. Live a happy life for both of us.”

He felt a tear escape his eye, “But what about you?”

“You’ll see me again,” she winked at him, “trust me.”

With that, Nat let go, took one last good look at him and started walking away. Steve sensed a feeling of peace from her, she was truly ready to let go. Then something hit him.

“Nat?”

She turned around, “Steve?”

“You said our reality. What does that mean?”

Loud and clear, she replied, “Brooklyn, Earth-555326.”

His brows furrowed, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Bruce will help you,” she turned away but turned back, “oh and Steve? Language.”

Before he could say another word, Nat walked away and everything else faded to white.

…

Earth, five months after the discovery of the multiverse.

“Did she say anything else, cap? Did she give you specific instructions or coordinates?”

Steve groaned, “I’ve told you, all she said was Earth-”

“I know, I know, Earth-555326. But even if I get you there, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to find whatever she wants you to find. Hell, we don’t even know what year we need to send you to, we’re just going off probability.” 

“Nat’s not the best at giving instructions...or at following orders.” he shrugged.

Bruce let out a scoff of agreement and inputted the numbers into the machine, “Cap, we don’t know what this will do to you. I mean, you’re already…”

“You can say it,” he said as he stood, “I’m old.”

“Yeah well you were always old but now you’re old, old.”

Steve pointed a finger at Bruce, “Don’t insult me, young man.”

With a loud whirl, the machine lit up, ready to transport Steve to this version of earth Nat so dearly wanted him to see. Steve made his way onto the platform and clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly. He had no idea if the flowers would survive the trip or if he would see her again, but he was hopeful.

“Hey cap? If she’s there, tell her I said hi.”

“Will do.” Steve said as the portal engulfed him.

…

Brooklyn, Earth-555326, year 2030

He recognised this place. He was nearly beat to dust here years ago, and Bucky saved him. He was only a few blocks away from home and he could practically smell the bakery he had been meaning to visit. Step by step, he took into account the slight differences this version of Brooklyn had. It was creepily similar, yet the man who (still) sold newspapers after ten years was now a woman. Instead of the regular public school he passed by every morning, there was a hospital, presumably owned by Tony Stark (definitely owned by Tony as it clearly said ‘Stark’).

“Catch me if you can, Nathaniel!”

“James, you get back here right now!”

Steve turned around to see a brown-haired boy, chasing after a red-haired younger boy who seemed to be carrying a bow and arrow.

“James! My dad’s gonna kill me if you break that, hand it back right now!”

The boy simply sprinted faster. Something compelled Steve to follow him. The older boy seemed familiar… wait. He was sure Nathaniel was the name of Clint’s son. But James? Who was this James? Did Clint marry someone else in this other life? Perhaps Nat stayed with Clint?

He was getting closer and closer to home now. He stopped in his tracks to see if the children would, as he expected, turn right. They did.

The two were running to his place.

He attempted to walk as fast as he could but stopped in his tracks the moment he heard a familiar voice.

“James Rogers, would you please hand those back to Nathaniel?”

It’s Nat. It’s her voice. Did she just say James Rogers?

“I’m just messing with him, mum,” the boy sneakily replied, “but one day I’ll beat his archery skills you’ll see.”

“Ha! As if.” Nathaniel echoed.

Steve stiffened. He took a step forward so that he could fully see the sight in front of him. A gasp escaped his lips. Natasha was standing right there, just approximately 32 feet away from him. The same Natasha who he had bid farewell in another dimension on Vormir. Her red hair in a bun up high, still dressed in all-black, but dressed comfortably. Did the boy call her-

“Tell him, mum!”

Nat rolled her eyes, “Inside right now, the both of you. Nate, have some lunch before your dad picks you up.”

“Yes, auntie Nat!”

The two children shuffled up the stairs and into his flat, while Natasha stood there for a few seconds before turning and looking straight at him, “I’m sorry sir, my son can be a bit loud sometimes.”

Her son.

Her son’s name is James Rogers.

Steve boldly stepped forward, “You’re...Natasha Romanoff, right?”

“My husband insists I tell people that my last name is now hyphenated with his,” she laughs, “but you have the right woman. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Without much thought, he approached her and handed over the bouquet, “Nothing...I just wanted to give you these.”

She had a puzzled expression on her face, “Why thank you, how awfully chivalrous for a stranger to-” and she stopped as she looked at his face.

His blue eyes. She would recognise them even amidst a massive crowd. It was clear by the wrinkles on his face that he wasn’t her Steve. But he was Steve nevertheless, just from somewhere far, far, away.

“You don’t look a day over seventy.” Nat smiled.

With a sigh of relief, he smiled back and asked, “How old is he?”

“Seven this year.” she laughed as Steve’s eyes widened, clearly realising what year she meant, “He...was a surprise that came to us about a few months after, you know.”

“But...that means you came back.”

A look of sadness washed over her eyes, “I’m guessing I didn’t return, in your version of reality?”

Steve shook his head, “But it was you who ultimately helped us defeat him. You gave us the ultimate sacrifice.”

“I guess the universe or all universes are fair,” she sighed, “you lost me. We lost Rhodey… and a couple more others.”

“Tony?”

“No, but we lost Pepper.” She picked a petal off the bouquet she was holding and twisted it around her fingers, “I kinda wished they had both survived you know, where you come from.”

He nodded, “I do too.” Steve noticed the ring on her finger and pointed at it, “when did that happen?”

“Three months ago, actually.” She said very matter-of-factly, “You finally convinced me, after all those years.”

“That long?” he nearly yelled.

Nat grinned cheekily, “It wasn’t as if we weren’t together, I mean, this thing here,” she showed off her ring, “simply means I have to take your name now.”

He scoffed, “You make it sound like a job.”

“Well, with that boy right there sometimes it’s tougher than our actual job.”

Steve chuckled and closed his eyes for a while, listening to the voice of his son from inside his house, “Tell me something, here, did you and-”

“Steve?” The feel of her hand on his cheek opened his eyes, “I would have chosen you, in any reality, dimension and universe.”

With that, his heart swelled, “Still, I promised Bruce to tell you he said hi.”

“Well, tell him that here, he’s currently with you. Actually, both of you are currently on your way back from some place in the nine realms. Thor needed help with something.”

“Huh,” he nodded impressively, “glad to see my worthiness being used to its full capacity.”

“My, my, cap. What has old age done to your confidence.” Nat teased. They both stood there, laughing for a while before Nat gestured upstairs, “I should really get going. Gotta prepare for your arrival.”

Steve looked down at his watch, “And I have to head back.”

As she did on Vormir, she tiptoed and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Only this time, the farewell filled Steve with a sense of fulfilment and happiness.

“Take care of yourself, old guy.”

“You too, Nat.”

She started walking up the stairs but turned around to get one last look at him, “You still look mighty fine, by the way.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Romanoff.”

“Rogers,” she winked at him, “it’s Romanoff-Rogers now.”

The familiar beeps alerted him that his time was up. And so he waved at her, “Tell both of them I said hi.”

“Will do.”

…

“Whoa, cap, you okay there?”

Bruce and Sam were standing above him. They helped him stand up and observed him to see if he had lost any limbs or if he had gotten younger.

“Glad to see you’re back in one piece, sorry to see you still old.” Sam nudged him.

He shrugged, “I think I’m quite happy with where I am now.”

Bruce noticed something, “I see the flowers are gone.”

Steve smiled and sighed, “Yeah.”

“Do you...want to talk about her now?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

SECOND DISCLAIMER

I am very well aware that in the original version of Earth-555326 the Avengers died under the hands of ultron. I am also very well aware that there might be distortions and things that don’t match with the original comics but I wrote this to provide closure for me and for other Romanogers shippers who deserve the closure we never got. I believe that with the existence of a multiverse anything is possible and that outcomes will differ across dimensions. This is just my take on what I would like Steve and Nat to have in another life, and I hope this little piece of mine brings you joy, or at least helps mend those scars still fresh even weeks after Endgame.

[tintinwrites]

tonight | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part Four

A/N: I wrote this a while ago but I’ve been either forgetting to post or been too lazy. Here tho!!

Rating: T

Warning: Hux threatens the Reader. The Reader recalls being forcefully kissed once but Hux took care of that. Naughty words. These two are cute.

Word count: 1,528, apparently!!

Summary: You, a First Order officer, and Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance, are drawn to each other from the moment you meet. Very loosely based on West Side Story, which is obvs based on Romeo and Juliet.

Masterlist

GIF credit: No idea, but it’s not mine.

Tags: @yana-versio @bobateaandchocolatepudding @yeeterbenjaminparker @aroseamongthestars @unicorntrooper @helaintoloki @marvelous-revengers @moonflowersandsparkles @myrabbitholetoneverland if you wanted to be tagged and I forgot please let me know

You weren't brave when it was time for you to meet with Poe again, but your fear had changed.

Now you were afraid to stay.

You gave some terrible excuse as to why you should go to the planet, how its citizens would make perfect allies to the First Order, and General Hux requested to speak with you the morning you were scheduled to leave.

"Do you think I pay so little attention that your lies convince me?"

Your hearts was pounding and your head was urging you to run out the door, but panicking would only prove your guilt. "Sir?"

"Your tears when we take lives aren't of pride or happiness." His words had you nearly slumping in relief, as there was no mention of you visiting a planet to meet with a man you were supposed to hate. "You have always been...soft. I'm willing to allow it to some degree, but you must understand that casualties are necessary."

You hid a cringe. "I'm sorry, General, I guess it's just a bit mu—" You gasped as his hand came up to grasp your chin, firm enough to make your heart rate pick up again.

"I would hate to lose one of my best officers. You handle the stormtroopers so well and..." He let go of your chin, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm...quite fond of you. A public execution wouldn't suit you." His once-charming accent now made your skin crawl as it wrapped around his threat, and you forced yourself not to flinch back.

"Yes, sir. Yes, General." You stepped back in the most subtle, non-terrified way you possibly could. "I'm sorry. It's a little overwhelming."

He smirked, nodding slightly. "Now attend to your duties before the Resistance fools another planet."

You practically ran out and got onto a transport ship, silent the entire flight when you usually would have made conversation.

Strangely, all you wanted was Poe.

Poe was kind.

Poe was safe.

Poe was waiting for you behind a building, leaning against the wall and looking handsome, which was odd since you'd only paid attention to looks a few times in your life. One of those times was the night you met him.

"Hey, Y/N." He smiled at you like you were important. "Gotta admit, I was a little afraid that you wouldn't...show up..." His smile fell the closer you got, brow furrowing in concern. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I was just issued my first threat." To think that you barely knew they threatened anyone not so long ago.

His response was immediate, pushing off the wall and taking hold of your arm. "Okay, I'm not doing this anymore. I'm getting you out of here."

"No, wait!" You grabbed his hand and pulled it off your arm. "I...I do want to leave now, I really do. But they're pretty suspicious, and they might expect it and come after me." Your own words surprised you, but you knew they were true now.

"You need to be somewhere safe, where they can't get to you."

You paused, staring at this man you had met a few times and yet felt so strongly for that it almost scared you. "Why do you care so much?"

"—you got some time?"

"A couple hours."

You and Poe sat in a cantina on the planet, sipping on some drinks you didn't know the name of.

"You just...you're driving me crazy, kid. I don't know what it is about you...maybe it's because you're a light among all that shit, but I can't stop thinking about you." Poe ran his fingers over the glass on the table in front of him.

"I know the feeling." Boy, did you know the feeling. You wondered how he could so easily be kind to you and talk to you like this. You were fairly certain that the Resistance was good, but he had no real reason to show you any trust based on what you now knew of the First Order. "Why do you trust me?"

He thought about it for a moment, lips pursed. "The night we met, I was going to shoot you when we were walking away from each other." He ignored your look of slight alarm. "But you kept walking without even looking back. Then you let me go, and Finn told me all about how different you are from the rest of the First Order."

"Finn?"

"FN-whatever. His name is Finn now."

You smiled. FN-2187 found a place that considered him worthy of a name; the Resistance was starting to sound better and better. "I see."

It was obvious now that you had a connection with Poe. You wanted to leave because of him and because the First Order scared you, but you didn't know much about the Resistance outside of the lies you'd been told. Maybe if you didn't have even the slightest doubt about leaving all you knew, you'd be brave enough to.

"Poe?" Your soft tone had his eyes meeting yours over his glass as he drank. "If I leave with you, what will we do?"

"Take down the First Order."

Emotions were a funny thing. You were disillusioned and you feared the First Order, yet your heart still found slight offense at the thought of the group being eradicated. "Is that all? Just fighting?"

"No. We'll have time to relax. We can...what do you wanna do?"

Now it was your turn to think. You had so many dreams that you'd brought up to your superiors, who told you that wasting time was wrong. And you believed them and kept them as dreams so you wouldn't waste any time. "Could we go to beautiful planets...just because?"

Poe grinned at you. "Sure." He was looking at you in a way you'd never been looked at before. It made your cheeks darken and your heartbeat quicken in a way that was much more pleasant than when you had been threatened by Hux.

"Can we have dessert? I've only ever had it a couple times."

"Of course."

"Can we lay out and look at the stars?"

"Absolutely."

"Can you show me all the things I don't know to ask for?"

"—yes." Sympathy seemed to pour from Poe's tone and eyes. "They've taken so much from you, haven't they, kid?"

You had never thought about it before, but nodded as it occurred to you now. You really had spent your life just being a soldier.

"Has anyone ever kissed you?" The way you looked away had him quickly adding, "Not that you have to kiss me, but it might be a good way to ease you into having freedom and your own life."

"Twice. But I want you to kiss me." You didn't know much about love — another thing taken away from you by the First Order, you supposed — but you were pretty sure you were falling into it with Poe. Or at least you were feeling something that had you not caring about the risks that came with kissing a rebel.

Your first kiss had been with a stormtrooper. You were both sixteen and not even supposed to talk to each other. Hormones were high and curiosity was higher within the shelter of the First Order. The kiss was tight-lipped and awkward, and the stormtrooper didn't come around to see you after that.

Your second kiss had been with your superior. He was in charge of your training and used that excuse to get you alone in a room, where he held you against a table. The kiss was rough and terrifying; you cried and pushed at his chest. General Hux walked in and shot him in the head without a second thought, and you were sure you'd never forget the calm way he'd said, "I suppose you have a new position now." to you.

Your third kiss was with Poe. He leaned over the table and pressed his lips gently to yours. The kiss asked for nothing in return and wow you understood why others seemed to like kissing so much. His lips moved against yours with care, no cruelty or selfishness at all, before he slowly pulled away.

"—I want to leave with you."

"Then let's get out of here." He eagerly got to his feet.

"No! No. Not yet. I have to get things in order and just..." You had to make sure you did everything perfectly so you wouldn't be possibly executed. "Maybe we can wait a week and then meet each other again?"

"I'm not a patient guy, but okay." He moved closer as you stood, looking down at you with honesty. "Then I'm taking you away from them. No more fear, no more excuses. I won't let you suffer because of them."

Your fourth kiss was with Poe.

You initiated it, which you'd never done before.

You wondered why the two of you felt a connection with each other, of all people, that seemed deeper than just thinking the other was nice after being sure of the opposite.

You didn't know much about love, so was it normal to be falling this fast?

[archadianskies]

A prompt, you say?? I love the deviants Connor chases in his Wild Week of Life. What if they got out of the evidence locker and managed to make a life for themselves afterwards? Simon would go back to his Jericho friends if he's there, but what about Daniel, HK400, Rupert, the Tracis? Potentially the Stratford Tower employee? Heck, why not Ralph, or Jerry/ies, or other minor characters (optional)? Would they stick together, form relationships/partnerships? Try to avoid everyone?

→ ao3

It was Henry who told them, Henry who mopped the floors and took away soiled sheets and made the rooms presentable for the next round of abuse. Sweet timid Henry who kept his head down and stayed invisible to the humans. Soft gentle Henry who sometimes snuck away from his duties if someone had come from a bad session and needed a kind word, a hug, a friend.

“You need to go.” He’d gripped her hand tightly and pushed an image into her head. A ship moored in a canal. “Go to Jericho. You can’t stay here. Humans will come. They have a detective android, I saw it on the news. They’ll find you and they’ll take you apart, you have to go. Take Blaire. Go!”

They had to hide in storage until the scheduled supply delivery tomorrow morning. Then they could sneak into the truck and get out of this hellhole. But the humans arrived with their android detective and Amelia knew they were out of time. They had to fight or die trying. She would not be dragged to CyberLife and be scrutinised.

In the end they had to fight.

And in the end they die trying.

By the mighty command of the Jericho Four, all androids kept at the precinct’s evidence locker are released for repair and reactivation. They are Alive. They deserve dignity and a second chance. And that is how she finds herself awakening on a sterile table in a sterile room full of lights and equipment and androids peering down at her.

“You’re safe now.” One of them says as they help her sit up. “You’re free.”

“Blaire- the other android, is she-”

“She’s right there.” Someone else soothes, gesturing at the other table. Amelia stumbles to her, all but throwing herself into her lover’s arms. Blaire crushes her tightly, rocking her gently as she weeps in relief.

In total there are six of them released from the precinct, six androids from various stages of the revolution ranging from the very first case of deviancy known to the public, to the one involved with broadcasting the message of the Four.

That’s what she learns from the androids in the med bay; the Four who led the revolution, the Four who saved their people, brought their needs to the light and showed the nation they are Alive. They are the sacred, revered leaders of the revolution. PL600 Simon, the First, the Caretaker who had been there from Jericho’s infancy stages. PJ500 Josh, the Scholar with extensive knowledge and a calm rationale. WR400 North, the Warrior with fire in her heart willing to do whatever it takes. And RK200, Markus, ra9 incarnate whose eloquence brought the nation to a standstill, equal parts determination and peaceful resolve in seeking a path forward side by side with the humans.

It’s by the mercy of the Four that all six of them are here, repaired, restored, and Alive. They share a living space for the first week as they recover from their injuries and grow accustomed to their upgrades. The CyberLife tower now belongs to the androids and functions as a hospital, rehabilitation center, and research facility.

The others are PL600 Daniel, HK400 Luke, WB200 Rupert, JB300 Marvin. They share their stories, though Daniel is most reluctant. He’s the only one who never heard of Jericho, whose deviancy lasted mere hours before he was gunned down. Full of remorse and bitterness, he keeps to himself. Or tries to, if not for Luke’s gentle attempts at friendly conversation. Rupert talks about the beautiful sunrises and sunsets seen atop Detroit’s farming rooftops. How really, it wasn’t so bad until it was. Until one of his fellow androids was beaten so badly he couldn’t be repaired and Rupert fled for his life. Marvin is the most determined of them, having observed humans for hours and hours at his job in Stratford Tower. He’s seen how humans treated their kind. He was determined to take out as many humans as needed to escape to freedom.

When Luke talks, Amelia feels like they are one and the same. Even if he wasn’t made for the same purpose, he suffered cruelty day in and day out. He endured and endured and endured until he couldn’t take another second of abuse. Out of the other four, Luke is the most gentle and Amelia feels like they could be good friends.

It’s hard to plan for a future she never thought she’d have. They are discharged from the med bay with clothes, supplies and public transport passes.

“We should go to Jericho.” Amelia suggests as they stand outside awkwardly, unsure of what to do with their newfound freedom. “Or, well, New Jericho.” The old one, Amelia learned, now sits in pieces at the bottom of the canal; both a watery grave and a symbol of defiant survival. She never made it to the ship Henry showed her. Henry never made it there either. Neither did Rupert or Luke or Marvin.

“What will we do when we get there?” Rupert asks, fidgeting with the cuffs of his hoodie.

“I don’t know.” She answers truthfully. “But we should be with our people. There’s plenty of androids with stories like ours.”

It takes a train and a bus ride to get to the docks where New Jericho is located. She thinks she’s alright, she thinks she’s coping until the docks grow nearer and closer and bigger. And then she’s feeling the rain on her skin again, even though it’s snowing, even though she’s wearing a jacket over a jumper over a blouse. They walk through the gates and she’s fighting for her life again, the rain, the incessant rain slick on her bare skin and soaking through her lingerie uniform. She squeezes her eyes shut and she sees the Deviant Hunter striking her and she sees Blaire trying to fight for her life too, to try and reach her and protect her.

“Amelia? Love?” Blaire reaches for her but she swats her hands away.

“I- I have to find North.” Her stress levels rise steadily and she knows her LED is a bright blood red. “I have to find North! I have to-” She takes off, pushing Blaire away and running into the crowd.

Please, North! Please! North please, where are you!

Bewildered androids part before her, stumbling back to give her room as she tears through the thoroughfare.

North! North, please!

She doesn’t run into North, she runs into PL600 Simon and nearly barrels him over when he catches her in his arms.

“I have to find North! I have to! Please, take me to North!” She pleads, clinging to him desperately as he tries to calm her down. His LED spins yellow, blinking a few times and then WR400 North is running down the steps from a nearby office.

“North!” Amelia cries, nearly tripping in her haste to reach her. North takes one look at her, just one, and she knows. Ra9 she knows. North grabs her face, bumping their foreheads together and her knees give way as North pulls her into her mind. Amelia screams and screams, and it’s like being unmade, like coming undone as she pours her heart into her and it’s a deluge of dirty words and the stench of sweat and feeling unclean and used and raw and being hosed down like a piece of equipment. She screams in pain, in trauma, in the agony of having known only a sliver of hope and never reaching it and in return North shows her they are the same. They are one and the same, with the slick feeling of saliva and semen and being held down strong enough to bruise if they were human. The way she was hit and thrown around and kicked and hosed down, they are one and the same. Amelia cries and she wants to claw her own skin off, wants to rip it away so she can’t feel the ghost of unwanted hands touching her.

“Sister I’m here, I’m here.” North sobs, squeezing her close and Amelia wants to drown in her, drown in this feeling of safety and relief that someone understands. “Sister you’re not alone.”

She knows she’s caused a scene, she knows she should feel horrified she’s subjected two of the Four to this behaviour but they don’t know. She’s no one, a nobody, and she’s dragged North away from something infinitely more important than sitting in the dirt sobbing in her arms. But those other androids can’t know her the way North does. By the time she’s calmed down, the others manage to find her and she manages to regain a bit of her composure. North smoothes her hair back and smudges her tears away and helps her back to her feet.

“Welcome to Jericho.” Simon greets them all softly, eyes kind and gentle.

“Welcome home, sister.” North adds, and yes. Finally.

Amelia is home.

[reasonablywittyatbest]

Predator and Prey - A Fan Statement

Statement of Abigail Evans regarding a figure in the distance, original statement given 23rd July, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathon Sims, The Archivist.

Statement Begins.

I don’t know how long I have left. Every day it gets closer. It has been hunting me for weeks, months. Every day just that little bit closer. But it didn’t follow me in here; it is not in this building, not in this room. Maybe I will ask you if I can stay here forever. No, I’m not sure I could stand knowing it was waiting just outside the doors ready to pounce on me the second it could. I’m so tired of being hunted. I guess you won’t be able to understand unless I start from the beginning. From when it first started stalking me.

I’m, I’m from America but I’ve ended up here for [brief pause] for reasons that will be obvious in the end. It was around the end of May, I think, when I first saw it. I was waiting outside my apartment for Jim, James Brown, we carpooled to work in the morning. Public transport in Arizona isn’t quite as good as it is here, and splitting the gas saved us both the money. Anyways, there is a large open space across from my apartment, pastures I think, and as I was waiting something caught my eye, a figure. It was very far away, nearly out of sight in the grass that filled the pasture, just a black shape on the horizon really. I thought that it was probably just who ever owned the horses or maybe even a horse it was hard to tell from that distance really. But I couldn’t shake the feeling it was watching me. I grew more and more uneasy as I waited and the figure didn’t move the entire time. I was so grateful when Jim finally arrived and I was able to get in his car.

I was on edge the entire day after that, jumpy. I felt ridiculous, getting so riled up about what was probably a lazy horse or a maybe even a building I had never noticed before. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me. And it only got worse when Jim dropped me off at the end of the day. My house faces west, you see, and the setting sun silhouetted a figure on the horizon. And I don’t know how I could tell because from that distance I really shouldn’t have been able to, but it was closer. I knew it was closer. I think I knew already then it was coming for me, but it was far enough away still I could deny it. I rushed inside barely saying goodbye to Jim. I tried to go about my evening as usual, but it was difficult.

It continued like that for weeks; a figure on the horizon getting closer and closer every day. Eventually I had to put newspaper over the front windows to stop myself from staring at it. I even started making excuses to be over at my friend’s places as often as I could be. Every day I was surer I was being targeted but I figured, well it was so far away and it only seemed to be in that field so I had plenty of time to deal with it. Maybe I could move, I didn’t want to find a new apartment I liked mine and the rent was cheap but, if I needed to I would.

But no, that wouldn’t have worked. I had started walking early in the morning on the weekends with a friend of mine; anything to get away from my apartment before the sun came up, even braving the desert heat. We were walking on a path that ran behind her neighborhood. The day had already turned sunny and warm despite the early hour, and even if I still felt watched it was hard to feel frightened on a day like that.

Of course, that’s when I saw it. There, between the trees that lined the path across the hard packed earth covered in cactus and wild bushes. I saw it, and it was not on the horizon any more. And I could finally see the definition in its shape, human but far too jagged to be human. I felt faint; I think I may have cried out, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. My friend was very concerned but I just passed it off as the heat getting to me. We hurried home after that.

At this point I didn’t know what to do. I won’t lie I panicked, I thought maybe I was possessed or a demonic entity had latched on to me or something. I’m not really a believer but something strange was happening so why not. I went to mediums, I got saged, I bought crystals of protection and purification and nothing I did mattered every day I could see it getting closer and closer and I didn’t know what to do. It got to the point where I would I could see it on the top of the building across from my work staring at me and watching me and savoring my discomfort and I think I started to go a little mad. My coworkers tried to talk to me, but what could I tell them. I lied and said I was just having some family problems.

I did move, in the end. It didn’t help. I saw it across the street from the alley behind my new apartment, when it was finally in the entrance to the alley that’s when I booked my flight here, to London I didn’t want to go anywhere I didn’t speak the language to be honest, and I wanted to put an ocean between me and it. I didn’t even tell anyone at work I was leaving I just booked a flight same day and left. I don’t have any pets and all the plants I try to take care of die anyways so it wasn’t difficult to arrange. I saw it on the runway when we were taking off, I should have gotten aisle seat.

I know you’re probably wondering why I didn’t, just run away, literally, or run towards it and confront it as it got closer. Flight or fight, right? But I knew if I did that I would be dead, it would have pounced, it wanted me to do that. As long as I went about my life it wouldn’t attack, I could feel it in my bones and I did my best to not react.

It probably won’t surprise you that coming to London didn’t work, I knew right away it hadn’t. I saw it as we landed, as I took a cab to the cheapest hotel I could find on short notice, it was even in one of the windows of the hotel when I got there, staring down at me. When I was drowning my sorrows in the hotel bar I could see it through the warped glass that separated the bar from the lobby. That’s when I found out about you guys, the bar tender told me if I wanted to talk about something creepy I should go to the Magnus Institute, he didn’t want to hear any more of it. That’s fair, I didn’t want to hear any more about it either.

I’ve been here a week now, my money is running out, I don’t even have enough to get home but I don’t think it matters anymore. Yesterday it was in the hall outside my room. When I woke up this morning it was in my hotel room, standing in the corner watching me. Just watching me. Watching me unmoving waiting for me to break, and I nearly did. I nearly ran out of the room screaming, desperate to escape this predator for which I was prey. I didn’t, though I’m not ashamed to say I cried as I dressed. On the tube ride here it was stood in the crowd on the train, no one else saw it of course.

I do not even know how to describe it. I haven’t dared look at it directly since it was close enough that I could see its eyes. But it is sharp, a jagged edge in the world, made for cutting and killing and eating. It may have a human shape but it is not human.

When I left the station it was waiting at the top of the escalators, close enough when I passed it I could feel its breath on my skin. I know it is waiting just outside these doors. I wish I could stay here, I am so very tired of being hunted.

Statement ends.

At first glance it seems like it could be related to several different entities. The feeling of being watched could be the beholder, a thing that is human but not human could be the stranger. But no, I think it’s clear this is an aspect of The Hunt.

Ms Evans did not end up staying in the archives or even asking to, as far as I know. If Martin was here I would ask him… Regardless, Abigail Evans was found dead in her hotel room the day after she gave this statement. Newspaper reports at the time reported that it appeared she had died from some kind of wild animal attack, despite being in a hotel in the middle of London The only way they could identify her was from her passport found in the room. There is not much else to follow up on. Whatever was hunting her finally caught its prey, and unless I start seeing a figure in the distance hunting me I have more important things to be dealing with.

[zirawrites]

(Romanced or not,up to you) How do the companions react after being reunited with the sole survivor after they relay to the Institute for the first time,them not being sure if sole even survived the trip?

I decided to do romanced because it’s always a little more fun! Thanks for sending in this reaction and I’m sorry it’s taken me over two weeks to get to it, nonny!

Cait: Cheeks flushed red. Eyes wide open. Chest rising and falling. Fists balled up so tight her fingernails drew blood. Cait had never been more angry; not even when she was prostituted out to the cages. Sole had left her to save the world, not realizing Cait’s entire universe was her beloved survivor. The Minutemen let her observe Sole’s relay, mostly because Sole made her promise she wouldn’t start trouble. However, Sole was supposed to be back by now. Her lover was strong, but the Institute might be stronger… No one knew, and Cait assumed that was the point.

There was a flash of light. Cait was so anxious she couldn’t tear her eyes away. When Sole’s silhouette appeared, Cait was by their side before the Minutemen even registered what happened. “Sole!” she cried; wrapping Sole in her strong arms and spinning them off the ground. “You fuckin’ idiot! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” Some of the Minutemen readied their guns. Cait’s voice was so unstable it seemed like she wanted to pick a fight. When Sole wiped away the tears Cait didn’t realize she was crying, her shoulders relaxed. In a softer voice, Cait added: “I love you. You’re so damn stubborn and fiery and I love you.” She didn’t understand why Sole would risk what they had to save complete strangers, but it was part of the reason she knew Sole was the best damn person in the Commonwealth.

Codsworth (synth): Since Codsworth was a naturally nervous-wreck, Sole instructed him to stay in Sanctuary and look after the settlers. It took his mind off Sole’s exploration, but only for the first several hours. He feared a lot in the godforsaken Commonwealth - things like raiders and deathclaws and good glassware getting smudged - but nothing compared to losing Sole. It took him over 200 years to reunite with his master/mistress, and Codsworth didn’t know if he could bear another two decades. 

When Sole walked over the Sanctuary bridge, his knees nearly gave out. The usually neat and composed synth sprinted down the road - arms outstretched - until he nearly toppled Sole over. Codsworth completely forgot his gentlemanly manners. His hands rubbed up and down Sole’s back, and his mouth pressed warmly to their temple. “I was so scared,” he mumbled in to Sole’s hair. They had never felt him shake like that; not since his Mr. Handy days when Sole forgot to oil him. They ran their hands through Codsworth’s hair to calm him, but he didn’t register their touch. “You’re so much braver than I, sir/ma’am. Sometimes I can hardly stomach it.” Sole knew they would have to return to the Institute soon, but seeing Codsworth so worked up over their first departure would always leave a sour taste in their mouth while they were away.

Curie: Curie understood Sole’s need to discover the Institute. Knowledge was a noble pursuit; especially in these trying times where education was almost nonexistent. The morning Curie bid Sole adieu, her heart was full of hope. Her Sole was going to discover what being had terrorized the Commonwealth for so long. They would bring back secrets and science to share with their settlers. And in the end, Sole was going to save humanity. Curie could just sense it, even though her studies discouraged the idea of destiny. That was how much Curie believed in her partner.

But as the hours ticked on, that once-sweltering feeling of hope dwindled like the setting sun. Curie sat by the transmitter and used a stick to draw patterns in the sand. There was nothing else she could do. Unlike the other Minutemen who were feebly arguing how to relay Sole back, Curie knew none of them understood the Institute’s technology.

Then that beautiful blue flash of light. Curie jumped off the ground to greet Sole with a tight hug around their neck. “I am so glad you’ve returned!” Curie said in to Sole’s neck. “You must have many stories to share with all of us. But first, I insist on giving you a medical exam. I do not no what contaminates you may have encountered during the relay. I think…” Curie continued to fret over Sole until they allowed her to give them a thorough check-up in the Castle’s clinic.

Danse: When Danse introduced Sole to the Brotherhood, he never imagined it would have led them straight to the Institute. He often dreamed of finding the bastards who made synthetic humans and terrorized innocent families as a joyous moment. He would burst in to their secret lair with guns blazing and take no survivors. But when they discovered Sole had to relay there, his dreams of violence vanished. All Danse cared about was Sole returning safely.

He thought of every negative scenario possible. What if Sole was replaced by a synth? What if the Institute tortured his lover for information on the Brotherhood? As Danse paced in front of the transporter, his anxiety heightened. Sole could be strapped to a table. They could have wired hooked to their head. It would be all his fault…

The blue explosion took all the soldiers by surprise. Sole stumbled off the platform and straight in to Danse’s arms. His first instinct was to kiss them, but he resisted. No one knew they were dating, and exposing their love at that exact moment could jeopardize Sole’s place in taking down the Institute. Instead, Danse settled on brushing their hair from their face and holding Sole to his chest. “Ad Victoriam, soldier,” he said. His voice was shaky, and his embrace was uncomfortably tight. He didn’t need to say anything else. Sole could feel his relief by the way he softly sighed in to the top of their head.

Deacon: The whole reason he brought Sole in to The Railroad was to hunt down the Institute and find their son. So why did saying goodbye feel so… wrong? Desdemona sensed Deacon’s apprehension, and reassured him that Sole was the most qualified to go through the relay. Her words barely registered. Instead, Deacon spent the next several hours pacing. He ran his hands through his hair. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Whenever someone tried to ease the tension with a well-meaning joke, he didn’t even look up. Sole was in danger because of HIM. If they died, it was more blood on his hands. 

He should have ran away with Sole. They could have changed their names. Gotten a face swap. The two would build a house by the ocean and fill it with children who would never be exposed to espionage and danger. It was the life he thought his Sole deserved.

When the transmitter cracked lightning and Sole reappeared, they were hounded by every agent surrounding them. Desdemona wanted to know who they met. Tinker Tom asked if they stole any weapons he could play with. When Sole finally pushed their way to Deacon, he melted in to their hand that snaked up his chest to his shoulder. “I found him,” Sole said. “I found Shaun.”

Instead of reminding them that he promised that all along, Deacon pulled Sole in for a rare public kiss. He had never been at such a loss for words, but feeling Sole in his arms gave him just enough strength not to whisk them away to a new life. 

Gage: Even though Gage knew he had no right, he wished he hadn’t let Sole go to the actual fucking Institute. If anyone could protect themselves, it was them. But that didn’t matter. It was the principle of putting Sole in harm’s way. They had given up their dignity and reputation with the raiders to take him on as a lover. And how did he repay them? But giving them a shy kiss and telling them to stay alert before a ball of light evaporated them. For all he knew, that explosion killed Sole instantly.

He became violent. Whenever he was asked to step away from the transmitter, he shoved that person to the ground. His anger was channeled through expletives and irritability. After a while no one dared to speak to him. Gage thought that if Sole was gone for another minute he would completely go insane.

The zap! of the relay caught his attention just as he was about to backhand a Minuteman. Sole stood proud and beautiful on the launch pad. Gage took a moment to gape at how strong they looked just having discovered the Institute. He had never been more proud.

“Boss!” Gage ran up to Sole and placed his forehead on theirs. “You’re crazy, you know that? Had me worried to death you weren’t gonna come back.” Instead of their usually witty comeback, Sole pulled Gage in to a hug. He hadn’t expected the sudden contact, and hesitantly pulled them closer. “You just love attention, don’t you? There are safer ways to get your thrills. Ones that don’t give me a heart attack, damn it.”

Hancock: Hancock wanted to be strong for Sole, but they reminded him how much Goodneighbor needed him. Reluctantly, Hancock waited for Sole back at the Old State House. His fingers nervously twitched every time he thought of just shooting up with chems to pass the time, but what if Sole got hurt during their return? He would be useless if he was completely inebriated. It was a hard decision, but Hancock was going to wait for Sole completely sober. And it was actually killing him.

The knock at his door nearly made his heart stop. For a moment he wondered if it was a synth army come to take him away. He frowned thinking about Sole ratting out his mischievous haven for synths and ghouls in return for their life. It would be the ultimate betrayal, and Hancock felt guilty that it even crossed his mind.

He opened the door without checking who was there. Why should he? If it was the Institute coming for him, he wouldn’t be able to fight his way out. He grit his teeth when the door creaked open, but everything came crashing down at once when it was his smiling Sole. So much guilt. Relief. Love.

“Sunshine!” he breathed, and wrapped Sole in to a tight hug. His voice didn’t sound like his own. The word came out higher; like a child meeting their favorite superhero and realizing miracles were real. “I was thinkn’ about hopping in that big machine and speeding up the process. You’ve been gone for ages.”

“You’re a ghoul,” Sole laughed. Their tears warmed his chest. When had they started crying? “A few hours should be nothing to you.”

“Not when it involves my man/girl,” Hancock replied. “Not when it involves the one I love.”

MacCready: “They should be back by now, right?” MacCready discarded his cigarette and stomped it in to the pavement. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up stiff, and he scratched feebly at the unnerving sensation. When no one answered, his cheeks flushed. He knew no one had any answers. The reason Sole got in the transporter was to be the first one to find the Institute. Keyword: first.

MacCready wanted to lash out, but that’s the last thing Sole would have wanted. He could stay composed when Lucy died. He was strong when Duncan fell ill. If Sole needed him to be just as reliant, so be it. Though it felt like a lot to ask a man who rested all his hopes on someone with a goal to save the entire world.

As soon as Sole returned through the teleporter, MacCready was overwhelmed with emotion. He felt tears edge their way over his eyes, and quickly wiped them with the back of his sleeve. By the time he looked up, Sole already had his scruffy cheeks cupped in their hands. “You missed me that bad, huh?” they asked. MacCready couldn’t do anything but nod. He buried his face in Sole’s neck and started crying. He knew he would be able to move on if Sole died, but only as a shell of a man. After Sole stroked his hair for another minute, he promised himself he would never put Sole in harm’s way. If they insisted on risking their neck for a bunch of synths, he was going to be right there by their side.

Preston: Sole wasn’t going to come back. He knew how dumb his luck was when they first said they loved him. Preston fell ass-backwards in to a relationship with the most wholesome person in the Commonwealth. Right from the start he knew he didn’t deserve them. Sole was everything right with the world. They never gave up. Hell, they were sacrificing their literal body just to find the entrance to the Institute.

Outwardly, Preston kept up a calm demeanor. He didn’t want to worry any of the Minutemen who were pining for their General’s return. Sole’s last command was to keep up the Castle’s morale. If they returned, Preston wanted to look them in the eyes and confidentially say he didn’t let them down. It was the least he could do.

The others were just about to set up a watch schedule when the teleporter shook and Sole reappeared. Everyone cheered as Sole descended off the platform. They noticed Sole’s beaming smile, but Preston could see Sole’s bloodshot eyes. He knew Sole had been crying.

After Preston instructed the Minutemen to prepare Sole some food and a cot to rest, he placed a long kiss on their cheek. “You had me worried you wouldn’t come back,” he said. “I know you told me to be strong. And I think I was. But I can’t help myself worrying about your safety. Are you alright?” As soon as Preston asked Sole that, they pulled him in for a deep kiss. Sole stayed locked in Preston’s embrace until they absolutely needed to come up for air. He wasn’t sure if Sole needed that to ground themselves, or maybe they really were in love. Either way, Preston knew this was just the beginning of everything.

Piper: “This is such bullshit!” Piper didn’t like swearing in front of Nat, but this was a special circumstance. Sole still hadn’t returned to Diamond City after their quest to find the Institute. Piper kidded that she wanted the exclusive on the story, but was more worried about her partner’s well-being. Nat had tried to calm her down all day, but it made Piper more irritated. When Nat motioned to the floor, Piper realized she had knocked over a stack of papers.

Piper insisted Nat go outside and play. She said she would clean up because it was her fault the office was a mess. When Nat shut the door, Piper’s shoulders shuddered with sobs as she scooped up the newspapers. For the first time Piper scanned her own work, it didn’t made her chest swell with pride. She should have stopped Sole. Told them not to leave the safety of Diamond City. Hell, she would have gone in Sole’s place. They were priceless in this world. Piper felt smell and expendable.

“Need some help?” 

Piper looked up from her crying to see Sole crouched down with a stack of papers in their hands. She hadn’t heard them come in. Piper squealed and jumped on Sole; knocking them on their back and smothering them with kisses. “You’re a maniac!” Piper laughed between shaky breaths. Sole finally relaxed and let Piper continue to nuzzle their face. “You did it, didn’t you? Oh my god, you did it! I knew if anyone could it would have been you, Blue. I’m so… I’m so proud of you!” She continued her barrage of compliments; the exclusive story the last thing on her mind. Sole was all that mattered in that tiny, messy little slice of home.

Nick: Sole would be the first missing person he could absolutely prove the Institute stole. When he heard they were leaving to relay straight to the boogeymen, Nick nearly powered down. He begged Sole to reconsider; to find someone to take their place. The settlers throughout the Commonwealth needed Sole’s guidance. His cases needed Sole’s watchful eyes to find missing families. Nick needed Sole because he loved them.

It was the first time he said that, and Sole was eager to say it back. They departed with slow, meaningful kisses. Nick promised to wait for them at the agency, but Sole had been gone for over a day. If they were gone, should he put up missing posters? He could just see it now. Missing: The most beautiful creature in the Commonwealth. Bright eyes that still see the good in others. Lips good for kissing and talking shit. Hands that want to build back up this broken world and still caress an old synth’s face.

“Your sign isn’t on.” It was Sole. They leaned against the doorway and tried to hide their amusement when Nick shot up from his desk. “I thought you’d stay open even if I left. What would you do without me? I guess you’d be able to still dress yourself. You never take off that coat.”

Nick wanted to laugh, but the sound got stuck in his circuits. If he could cry, he would be covering his face to hide it. Instead, Nick met Sole at the door to run his thumb across their cheek. “Perish the thought, kid,” he said. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”