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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: reading canon eris discourse literally makes me dizzy but in this fic he's pretty chill

***

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” Emerie asks as they stroll between the shelves of the library.

Nesta runs her finger down the spine of a textbook on corporate law. “Not really,” she murmurs distantly.

She’s been doing her best not to think of the upcoming holidays, in fact. Cassian is going to Velaris for Thanksgiving, and of course Feyre invited Nesta as well, but…

She’s always ignored her sister’s holiday invites, but this year is different. Cassian, a recent constant in her life, will be gone, enjoying himself for the first time in months without her presence. And Nesta will be at the cabin alone, because of course she can’t celebrate Thanksgiving with Feyre’s found family. Being friends with Cassian hasn’t changed that.

“Well,” Emerie is saying, “a bunch of us can’t go home for the holidays for one reason or another, so we’re hosting a small Friendsgiving at my apartment. You’re invited.”

Nesta glances at her, surprised. “Who’s going to be there?”

“The same guys from drinks night: Eris, Justinian, Isaac. Maybe a plus one or two if we’re lucky.” She elbows Nesta. “Maybe a girl for me to take home.”

“I thought the party was at your home already?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, are you coming?”

Nesta purses her lips. “But you said it was a Friendsgiving. Those guys aren’t my friends.”

Emerie looks at her like she's insane. “Uh, why not?”

“Because,” Nesta states, “we’ve only had one real interaction all semester.”

Emerie scoffs. “You talk to them all the time in class, Nesta.”

“Yes. Out of necessity.”

Emerie raises a high brow. “That’s how you view spending time with us? A ‘necessity’?”

She’s upset, and Nesta doesn’t know what she said wrong. “That’s not what I meant,” she tries to say.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just…” Nesta shrugs. “I thought it took more to make friends than a single night out.” Those are the rules, right?

Emerie narrows her dark eyes at her. “I’m sorry we’re not up to standard, then. But for your information, those guys liked you. I’m sure they considered you a friend.” She turns to leave, but Nesta is so stunned she can’t even try to stop her. The click of Emerie’s heels resonate long after she’s gone.

“Hey,” Cassian comes up to her later that day. “About Thanksgiving—”

Nesta drops her dinner plate onto the island with a clatter. “What is it with everybody and Thanksgiving?” Her voice is unnecessarily loud.

Cassian blinks. “Well, it’s only a few days away—”

“I know,” she says. “I’m fine staying home alone. We never celebrated Thanksgiving growing up, you know? It’s really not a big deal.”

“Will you let me finish, Nesta?”

Nesta presses her lips together.

Cassian takes a breath. “I think you should— I would really love it if you came to Velaris with me this weekend.”

There’s a silence as he waits for her to answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says after a moment.

Before he can press the subject, she blurts, “I already have plans.”

“You do?” Nesta can’t tell if he sounds disappointed or surprised.

She straightens her back, lying through her teeth, “Yes. Some friends from school are getting together for a Friendsgiving, and I’m going.” She almost bites her tongue on the word friends. She doesn’t even know what that means anymore.

“That’s amazing,” Cassian says, though he still looks a little taken aback. “I’m glad.” He looks down at the marble counter then, trying to smile. “Sucks for me, though.”

Nesta huffs a laugh. “Please, like you won’t be having fun with your friends whether I’m there or not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but why go for half the fun when I could go for double?”

“That’s not how math works,” she snipes.

Cassian grabs a fork so he can sit down across from Nesta. “Don’t you ever bring up correct math in this house again.” He points his silverware at her threateningly.

From there, they can devolve into their usual dinner habit of bantering that leads to more serious conversation. Cassian has recently been on a French movie binge, Nesta learns, and even though she despises the French, she listens closely to his analysis of each film and offers her own thoughts back. She even promises to rewatch one or two of his favorites at a later time. The giddiness he gives in return makes her almost wish she had accepted his invitation earlier, if only so she could keep making him happy.

God. What is he doing to her?

Later that night, Nesta pulls out her phone and opens up her messages with Emerie. She doesn’t want to have rejected Cassian just to end up staying home alone all weekend. She types out five different messages and erases them before settling on an apathetic, Is the invite for Thursday still on?

Emerie takes her time to reply, likely to punish Nesta. After some minutes, she finally texts, Yes.

It’s all she can expect from Emerie, and it’s all she needs to see.

Nesta: I’ll be there.

***

“Cassian!” Feyre swings open the door with an overjoyed smile, ready to greet him.

He laughs and steps in for a hug, going so far as to lift her feet off the floor. Because damn him, even with his conflicted feelings towards Feyre lately, he’s missed her. He’s missed all of his friends, even though he’s found something precious while he was away from them.

He’s ushered into the penthouse, which Feyre and Rhys insist on calling an “apartment”, as if that softens the blow of their extravagant wealth. Cassian and everybody else goes along with it, however, because the rich have committed worse crimes. At least that’s what Nesta says.

“Rhys is out getting last minute beer from the gas station,” Feyre says as she takes his overnight bag. “And you’re the first to arrive, which means I have you all to myself.” She whirls on him with a predatory gleam in her eye. “Tell me everything about the last two months with you and Nesta, ASAP.”

Cassian’s heart starts racing at the unexpected interrogation, but he laughs it off and shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just roommates.”

“Well, I know that.” Feyre rolls her eyes. “But what is it like? How is it going? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

Before he can answer a single question, Feyre goes on. “I haven’t heard from either of you in eons, it feels like. Is Nesta still picky about her foods touching? Does she get upset when you play music too loud? Does she—”

“Jesus, Feyre,” Cassian interrupts loudly. “Not everything in my life is about your sister. Give it a rest.” He takes his duffel bag back from her.

“I’m just curious!” she says indignantly, but Cassian is already heading up the winding stairs to his guest room, going as fast as he can without outright running.

“I need to get washed up!” he announces before Feyre can make him stop and come back for more questioning.

In the safety of his bedroom, he releases a breath.

If Cassian thought keeping Nesta’s health issues from Feyre was difficult, he couldn’t have predicted how painful it would be to hide his feelings for Nesta. Still, he doesn’t dare expose what he can’t yet define, especially not to his nosy-ass friends. Some things just aren’t matters for gossip.

***

Nesta hesitantly enters Emerie’s small studio apartment to a party in full swing; “full swing” being Justinian and Isaac playing video games on the couch while Emerie is in the kitchen area attempting to make drinks. Nesta stops near the kitchenette and crosses her arms, surveying the scene. “Something about this doesn’t look right,” she says aloud. Emerie doing the hard work while the men play? Antithetical to her very nature.

“I know,” is all Emerie says without looking up from whatever hellish concoction she’s whipping up. “But I’m the host, so this is my role.”

“Hey, Nesta,” the guys speak up together, not taking their eyes off the TV. Isaac is the first to break his concentration from the game, glancing at Nesta and doing a double take. “Woah, you look good today.” Is he blushing?

Emerie finally looks up at that, eyeing Nesta’s modest black dress. “A little funeral-chic, but still hot as ever, babe.” Right after, she makes a face at the term babe. “Nope, I tried it and I hate it.”

Nesta hates it just as much, but goes over to help Emerie with what she now realizes are oddly colored Jello shots. She picks up a little plastic cup with dark jelly in it and wiggles it around. “What color is this supposed to be?”

“Brown.” Emerie blows a piece of escaped hair out of her face. “They were supposed to be Thanksgiving themed.”

Nesta surveys the shots arranged in various fall colors. Definitely an interesting choice for a twenty-four year old law student, but what did Nesta know about parties?

“Where’s Eris?” she asks casually as she helps arrange more cups. Her argument with Emerie is far from forgotten, but the two women are too alike for their own good. They’ll ignore the lingering tension until it dissipates, and that will be the end of that.

Before Emerie can answer Nesta’s question, a loud bang comes from the entryway as the already open door hits the wall. Eris Vanserra sweeps inside in his designer coat and sophisticated boots, followed by a new, striking face. “It’s fucking freezing,” he announces, just as the new guy quietly shuts the door behind them.

“You’re late,” Emerie says in her usual flat tone.

“I had to pick up my twerp brother.” Eris tilts his head toward the redhead behind him.

“I didn’t ask to come,” the new guy, Eris’s brother, chimes in.

Nesta is perked up now, angling to get a better look at him. Same hair color, same eyes, different skin tone from Eris. He looks like the relaxed, unpretentious version of his brother. Someone pauses the video game.

“I’m Lucien,” he awkwardly raises a hand.

Justinian looks at everybody else. “I’m confused— does this mean we can finally replace Eris’s punk ass?”

The thought of an unexpected guest first makes Nesta clench up, especially when she’s seated right next to the damn guy at the dining table. New people means everything about the regular social routine will be changed up, and she isn’t at all prepared for it.

It takes maybe fifteen minutes for her to realize that Lucien is nothing to worry about— much quicker than she’s ever warmed up to a stranger before.

He has the affected quiet confidence of someone who would rather be anywhere else but here. No one knows that mask better than Nesta.

Against all odds, she’s the first to initiate a conversation.

“Why are you here?” she says bluntly.

No hello, no how are you. Fuck, this is why she doesn’t talk to people.

Lucien looks surprised at the sudden acknowledgment, but answers, “My plans got cancelled at the last minute.” His mouth tightens as he looks toward his brother. “So Eris dragged me here instead.”

“You don’t like your brother?”

Lucien narrows his eyes at her, defensive. “Is this an interrogation or something?”

Embarrassment heats Nesta’s face, but she hides it under her usual cold stare. “Never mind.”

She turns back to her food, refocusing on an anecdote Isaac is giving about a girl he met the other week. A moment later, Lucien says lowly, “I can’t stand my brother.”

She laughs a little too loudly at that, and everyone looks at her.

Isaac grins. “See, Nesta thinks it’s a funny story.”

Nesta frowns. “No, I don’t. You told it last week and no one laughed.”

His face falls. Eris laughs out loud at him, and Emerie tosses wadded up napkins at both men. “You’re both deeply uninteresting. Let’s talk about me.”

She launches into a heated discussion about how she plans to defeat “that bitch Brian” for the internship at Velaris’s biggest law firm next summer, with Eris interjecting that she wouldn’t survive a day in the big city. Nesta turns back to Lucien. “I understand how you feel.”

“You hate Eris too?”

“No, but I have sisters.” Eris is nice, if a pretentious asshole at times, but she empathizes with Lucien either way.

He raises a brow. “And you’re here for Thanksgiving instead of with them?”

For the first time all night, Nesta remembers that Cassian is having fun in a spacious penthouse with Feyre and Elain and the others, likely eating much nicer food than store-bought turkey and Jello shots, and she almost deflates. Almost. Because as much as she enjoys this— spending time with people that belong to her, not Feyre or anybody else— there’s a hollow space in the room that Cassian usually fills. She doesn’t know how she can miss someone and be this thoroughly content at the same time, but she tries not to ponder on her feelings.

She shrugs at Lucien’s question. “We’re all here instead of with our families.”

What would have been a thirty-minute meal on Nesta’s own stretches into a long night of full bellies and fuller conversation. Justinian demands a toast in honor of Friendsgiving, and Emerie tells him not to pull that cringy shit, but everyone ends up raising their small Jello shots to clink against each other.

Thanksgiving might be Nesta’s favorite holiday.

***

Cassian doesn’t know what this feeling is: the itching, nervy sense of impatience that plagues him the longer dinner drags on. All he knows is that tonight Mor’s laughter is just a little too loud, and Amren’s quips are just a little too sharp, and Rhys’s stories aren’t very interesting for once.

Nothing about his friends have changed, but somehow, Cassian feels different. Empty. He can’t stop thinking about what Nesta is doing right now.

He checks his phone under the table for the sixth time in three minutes, for what, he doesn’t know. Maybe she’s in trouble and needs his help. Maybe she’s having a bad night and wants to talk to him. Maybe she’s just bored and thinking about him.

None of this is true, evidently, because his phone remains dead silent.

“Cassian.” It’s Elain’s gentle voice that draws him out of his head. “What’s it like having a roommate for once? I know you and Nesta love being alone.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Alone? No we don’t. Why would we love being alone together?”

Elain looks at him like he’s grown a new head. “I didn’t mean alone together. It’s just that you’ve always spent your time boarded up in that mountain cabin on your own, and before Nesta moved in, she wouldn’t leave her apartment even to see me.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Feyre butts in. She whirls to Cassian with her hands under her chin. “All this time I was wondering what you and Nesta living together would be like, and I didn’t even consider you guys avoiding each other.”

Cassian scoffs a laugh but doesn’t know how to respond. He just wants Feyre and Elain to stop poking at this raw, fresh thing in his life before his nerves get worse, so he turns to Amren and brings up the thing he knows will shut everyone down: work. “How much longer is Rhys gonna have you playing double agent at Adriatic?” She’s been acting as brand ambassador to the West Coast-based conglomerate for the past five months, playing nice while gathering information on Night Court Inc.’s biggest competitor.

Groans resound around the table, but Amren’s eyes brighten frightfully. “If he keeps me there any longer, I might end up staying for good.”

Rhysand smiles thinly. “Amren has a crush on their new CFO. If she keeps going on about Varian’s pretty face I might pull her out of Adriatic by the end of the year.”

Just as Cassian is about to convince himself to care, his phone vibrates in his hand. Everything tunes out as he sees Nesta’s name on the screen, attached to a new text. He clicks into it.

A picture of Nesta and her friends around a dinner table pops up, smiling and laughing. His heart catches in his throat at the image.

“What did we say about phones during dinner, Cassian?” Rhysand interrupts just then.

Cassian stands up quickly, stammering, “Uh, I just need to answer this call— it’s important.” Azriel is staring up at him like he’s lost his mind, but Cassian doesn’t notice or care as he rushes out of the room with his phone in a death grip, overcome.

Alone in a hallway bathroom, he lets himself look at the picture again, hungrily absorbing every detail he couldn’t catch the first time around: her face is flushed and her hair is down, wilder than usual. Her smile is so rarely genuine that it kills him a little just to see it; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or pained that she’s having such a good time, that she isn’t missing him like he’s missing her. A sharp-faced girl that Cassian assumes is Emerie is holding the camera, likely having stolen Nesta’s phone to demand a picture, and the two women are surrounded by guys he doesn’t recognize. Except—

The face beside Nesta’s catches Cassian’s attention, and he clicks to zoom in. “Is that Lucien Vanserra?” he mutters.

Elain’s ex gets to hang out with Nesta while he doesn’t? This is fucked.

He doesn’t have a reason for his actions as he shoves his phone into his pocket and exits the bathroom. He just knows he needs to get out of here, away from this place that’s so far from Nesta’s heart.

His keys and coat hang near the front door, and he can hear Feyre’s voice from the dining room. “Cassian? Where are you—”

The door slams behind him before she can finish.

***

Being the only one who refused to get drunk off Jello shots, Eris offers to drive Nesta home for the night.

While Lucien is passed out in the backseat without a care in the world, Nesta is so awake she can feel her nerves buzzing. She knows as soon as she leaves this car, the bittersweet loneliness that comes after a party will set in, but for now…

What a night. She sighs and lets her head fall back against the seat, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Damn,” Eris lets out a low whistle as he pulls up to the mountain cabin. “This is your place?”

She lifts her head, realizing she’s home. “Ah. It’s only a temporary living situation,” she explains. “It’s my— friend’s place.”

“Friend or sugar daddy?” Eris smirks.

Nesta scowls, grabbing her stuff and pushing open the door to leave. It’s not Eris’s fault she’s unable to take a joke about Cassian, but that doesn’t change the sensitivity of the topic.

“Hey, wait—” he calls after her.

She pauses to look back at him. He hesitates, then says, “Good night.”

“Take care of your brother,” she directs. Stepping out of his fancy car, she shuts the door and raises a hand in goodbye, watching him pull away from the cabin.

Alone in the driveway, Nesta stands under the moonlight for a long moment, letting the chill seep into her bones. She’s dawdling.

She pauses again at the front door, her hand on the doorknob. The dreaded loneliness is already coming over her, crawling over her skin and making a home in the cage of her ribs.

A whole weekend without Cassian.

Maybe she should have asked Emerie if she could stay over for the night, but a part of her knows it would have been futile. Emerie can’t replace Cassian’s constant presence, no matter how much Nesta likes her.

It’s only three days. She steels herself and unlocks the door, prepared to be greeted by darkness and hollow silence.

The first thing she notices when she steps inside is the sound of crackling, followed by a warm glow from the living area. The lights are all off, but the fireplace is ablaze.

Nesta’s brows furrow, confused, but then she sees on the couch— “Cassian?”

***

a/n: i know justinian and isaac are names for side characters that sjm has used before but in this case they're completely different ocs.

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja

#a favor #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #nessian fic #nessian au

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dadzawa-adopt-dabi · 4 years ago

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Secret Baby ch 21

Kiyoko is sick for 3 days. It’s a stressful few days for Dabi. Checking her fever and timing when he can give her another dose of fever reducer. It stresses him out to the point of exhaustion, Kiyoko reacts to his anxiety and distress by crying harder and refusing to settle. Kiyoko finally calms down for longer than a couple hours when her fever finally breaks a few days later. Letting Dabi sleep for what he guesses to be a solid 10 hours.

Shigaraki calls once as Kiyoko’s fever is peaking and she’s wailing in discomfort. Dabi sends him to voicemail and follows up with a short text about now not being a good time. Shigraki calls twice more afterwards so Dabi ends up silencing his phone. Later that night once he has Kiyoko tucked into her nest and is cleaning up he calls back.

“Why the hell didn’t you answer me earlier?” Shigaraki’s voice rasps through the phone. Demanding and Dabi can’t help but think of his boss as childish. He had sent a text and promised to call back later in his defense, what kind of person expected you to drop everything when they called anyways? “Are you doing dishes or something? I thought you were going to call back when you weren’t doing anything.”

“I couldn’t come to the phone. Personal issues. I’m free to talk now, you’re just going to have to ignore the background noise Creep.” It feels weird letting his voice become deeper and rougher at home. Kiyoko is safe in her nest and asleep but he still feels nervous letting his something he uses for work into his home.

“Fine. There’s a meeting tomorrow, meeting the rest of the League mostly and stay for dinner this time.” Shigraki huffs after a moment of silence. He expects to be obeyed but doesn't hang up either, waiting for Dabi to agree.

“I can’t stay for some weird Villain dinner.” Dabi pauses. This is a larger group, he knows he has to play nice. At least he has to work with everyone enough that he doesn't get discarded.

“Make it lunch so we’re not wasting time with shit. I’ve only got so much free time so you're just going to have to deal Boss.” Dabi shut off the faucet and stood up straight, cracking his spine and making him release a tired sigh. He didn’t have the energy for this, his family wouldn’t free himself though. He wanted to introduce Kiyoko to her aunt and uncles. He wants Rei to know she has a grandchild, wants her to move on and heal from all that enji has done to them. He wants to try with her at least, maybe with enji out of the picture things will be different between them.

Shigaraki is silent on the other end of the line for a few minutes. The sound of some games' special effects coming through the line is the only thing that lets Dabi know that the call itself isn’t an issue.

“Well creep? You're going to have to give me more notice than this if you want us to work together. I don’t have a lot of time to myself already. I'm banking on you and this League you’ve started being worth it.” Dabi snags his baby monitor off the counter and steps outside to light up a cigarette.

“Just show up crispy bastard. I’ll let everyone know and we’ll set up meeting times ahead now.” Shigaraki sniped at him but it was nicer than it could have been. “I hadn’t expected anyone who had other shit I guess.” Shigaraki hung up rudely, it would have been annoying but Dabi just rolled his eyes and put out his smoke. This better be worth it.

The next morning passes in a blur as he hauls his exhausted ass around the apartment. Kiyoko is bright eyed and happy again as she crawls around after him. Dabi moves from room to room cleaning and scenting as he goes. He leaves several windows open as he leaves, airing out the apartment. He’s had hardly any sleep and he’s relieved he set everything out the night before. The sitter had demanded an upcharge due to short notice but hopefully this is going to be the only time. Kiyoko hardly cries as he drops her off and the bus is on time for once, resulting in him being a few minutes earlier than he had expected.

There’s a green lump next to the door that he absent mindedly pats as he comes in the door and he uses it to steady himself as he kicks his boots clean of muck. It gives an offended squawk making him jump. He mentally groans as he realizes what he’s done. The ‘green lump’ stands up and faces him with his arms crossed.

“Did you seriously just pet me? What the fuck dude?” The lizard guy confronts him, Dabi would take him seriously if he wasn't in a Stain cosplay. The guy is built and he has a large sword made of knives on his back. He smells of irritated beta and strangely enough coffee.

“I just saw a lump and didn’t realize it was a person. Sorry.” Dabi pulls his hand out of his pocket in case the guy decides to take his mistake out on him.

“I’m a person not a piece of furniture.” The guy scowls and his lips pull back to expose human looking teeth. “Whatever, don’t do it again. I’m Spinner.”

“You can call me Dabi.” The blue eyed omega nods at him but doesn't take the offered hand. He realizes he’s going to have to tell at least someone his name at some point. The rest of his history will have to come out as well but he wants to stay Dabi as long as he can.

Spinner gives him a sideways look but lets it slide. It figures he would, seeing as he also introduced himself with a Villain moniker rather than his actual name. Shigaraki is one of the only people who have wanted a legal name, at least the rest of his group won’t be following that pattern.

“Dabi! You finally came back! No one will let me drink their blood but It’s okay because I saw someone cute yesterday!” Toga comes around the corner and inserts herself into his space. Dabi listens to her ramble as he goes into the next room. Her hair is coming out of the buns on top of her head but her clothes look cleaner than when he last saw her.

“Toga, You left your cup in the kitchen.” A alpha woman with sunglasses perched on top of her red hair nearly runs into them as Toga leads him past the bar to what must be the kitchen. She smells strongly of alpha mixed with citrus. It’s bright and comforting in some odd way Dabi has never experienced before but it's not unpleasant.

Toga grabs the cup as she holds it out and slurps the red liquid in it. It's enclosed and she’s drinking it through a straw but Dabi’s still pretty sure it's blood.

“Who’s the goth hon?” She tilts her head at Dabi and has blocked the doorway to the kitchen. Large shoulders blocking the view and Dabi straightens up to look her in the eyes.

“Currently going by Dabi.” He puts a hand on Toga’s shoulder in case he has to pull her back again like when they met Shigaraki. “You going to let us pass and let me finish getting introduced?”

“You can call me big sis Magne.” She moves back and lets them into the room. “No last name there for you?”

“I’ll tell you when I have to. No family name for you either Magne?” Dabi lets Toga shrug him off and gives Magne another once over. It doesn't seem to be a touchy subject for her at least.

“Not one I use, legally it's stuck with my dead name still. Magne is what I go by and I just added Big sis for my villain moniker.” Whatever test she was giving him he seems to have passed. He was asking about the family name to poke around back at her. Instead he seems to have set the alpha at ease.

“Nah, Don’t like them much and the feeling is mutual.” she smirks at him and he can’t help but give a small smile back. He can already tell that she’s going to one of his favorites and she has a calming presence.

Toga gives another loud slurp, making so much noise due to how thick the liquid must be. She seems happy though so Dabi shoves the thought that it's gross to the back of his head.

At the table there’s a guy in a full body suit and mask, all monochrome colors, sitting at the table. Tea and books come with his light beta scent and Dabi is seriously starting to question why all these strangers smell so nice to him. Maybe it’s because he knows he will be with them for a while and his brain is trying to trick him into letting the arrangement be more permanent.

“Hey! Glad you got here safe! It’s about time you showed up, are you going to introduce yourself?” He speaks in two voices and Dabi is confused for a moment on which one he means until Toga holds up a finger to him. First voice then he guesses.

“Dabi. Nice enough to be here I guess.” He sits down across from him and the guy perks up.

“I’m Twice, Girans friend! Jin bubaigawara.” He holds out his hand and looks so hopeful that Dabi can’t help but shake it. This is the guy Giran had sent to check out the League?

“Nice to meet you I guess Jin.” He sits down, as a man in a bright orange coat walks in. Guess he wasn’t the last to arrive as he’d assumed. Then again some of the members seem to have taken up Kuroguri on the off to live here.

“Young Sir, you must be the last new member Shigaraki had been saying we would meet today.” He gives Dabi a bow and tips his tophat as Dabi blinks in surprise. The theatrical man pulls a bottle of sake and cups out of thin air. He’s wearing scent blockers like Dabi, keeping his secondary gender to himself. “I’m Sako Atsuhiro. Mr.Compress works as well if you prefer to keep things professional.”

Mr.Compress cracks the seal on the bottle loudly before he pours, It’s been forever since Dabi let himself drink. First he was pregnant and then occasionally breast feeding and then he was just too busy to relax and unwind with a stiff drink. Compress had even made a show of breaking the seal, knowing they all didn’t trust each other yet. Dabi takes the glass with no intention of actually drinking it but finds himself relaxing and taking small sips. Mr. Compress shows off magic tricks and Twice is his interactive audience.

Kuroguri glides into the dining area right before Shigaraki and Spinner enter , Mr. Compress pulls out a chair for him and Dabi hides his grin behind his sake cup. Lunch passes quickly with a lot of questions aimed at everyone. Most of them Dabi declines to answer. He’s never planned to work with a group this long. Still he figures his usual rule of thumb, the less they know the better, will work just fine. Shigaraki who gets visibly upset and starts scratching respects it when he pasess on things such as a favorite food or game. Anything he can stomach and He dosen��t even have time for an idle game currently.

Kuroguri is asking him if he has any family if he’s got any collateral these people can use against him when the first call comes through the line. Dabi shoots up and can his normally iron hard face mask slipping. Showing hints of instinctual panic at Kiyoko’s sitters ringtone. He blames it on the unfinished cup of sake, not nearly enough to affect him, instead of the warm comfortable atmosphere. It’s nothing, just an alert that the kids are going outside.

The next text is asking if Kiyoko’s feathers can be vacuumed up. Dabi scowls as he types furiously into his phone to leave his daughters feathers on her back, before another one arrives and it's a picture of the soft down surrounding Kiyoko. The black haired omega frowns, yeah he can see how that would be an issue for someone else. He types back a short response that it's fine. Then lets his leg bounce off in anxiety as his phone chimes several more times. Some of the members are looking at him strangely and it just makes it worse. He checks his phone again as he wonders if he locked the door on his way in. Of course he did, he never forgets, but that’s for his own house and he has the urge to check for the base.

“Everything alright Dabi?” Shigaraki asks him with an odd tone to his voice. Dabi brushes it off as Shigaraki’s possessive streak coming out as the crusty asshole tries to sneak a peek at his phone like some sort of kid.

It's the fourth time Dabi has ducked out to take a phone call. Kiyoko is crying and controlling some of her feathers to annoy her sitter or entertain the other kids. When they were vacuumed up Kiyoko had become hysterical. Her sitter wants him to come get her as soon as possible again and Dabi wishes he could fault her for it. He sighs, resigning himself to excusing himself now. He twists one of his many rings decorating his fingers as he walks back in. The picture of apologetic.

Shigaraki tries not to be annoyed but Dabi won’t answer even the most basic questions about himself and he keeps leaving the meeting. Claiming it's urgent with his face drawn tight as he tries to pretend at being nonchalant.

Toga has been the only one able to get close enough to hear what's so urgent he has to keep leaving. Kuroguri could but he keepst telling him to let Dabi come to him in his own time.

“I have to go.” Dabi storms back inside the dining area tapping his phone against his palm repeatedly.

Shigaraki hisses at him but at a kick under the table from Kuroguri he waves Dabi off. He thinks it's shady of Dabi to be looking at his phone all evening and suddenly have to dip but he also trusts Kuroguris judgement implicitly.

Does he have a spy in the League already?

@ruelukas22 @mostladylikeladythateverladied @i-like-to-shruggy @xxsnowchildxx @drxgonstone

#omegaverse #omegadabi #Dabi #dabihawks #bnha #mha #Hawks #takami keigo #alphakeigo #hotwings #thedarkonewrites #secretbabyfic

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wonderlandmind4 · 5 years ago

Text

Delicate Stages of Life: 24

A Piece of Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC; Platonic Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…

Warnings: Language. Angst. Loss, Grief. Labor pains. Non-graphic child birth.

Words: 11,820

A/N: Again, sorry for taking so long to update. This was a monster for me to write and it’s just been hard to write lately, BUT, this chapter jump starts the last phase of the Drabbles... (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first) beautiful moodboard by @afewmarvelousthoughts and thank you for all your help and tears and yelling at me. I’m sorry! <3 **I have never given birth, just going off experiences of mothers I know**

Holidays: 29 weeks Dec 13th:

One morning Ana wakes up to a solid kick from inside her stomach, rapidly blinking at the odd light streaming through her window. After she carefully sits up, soothing her hands over her round belly, she blinks again, startled.

Snow. It had snowed sometime during the night and with the sight comes the realization; it’s the middle of December. Time had ticked by in muted colors to Ana that when she finally came back to herself, five months had passed. Five months since the air filled with ashes. Five months since she last touched Bucky. Five months since the absence of his soul.

Now it’s nearly Christmas. Ana can’t even remember her birthday or Thanksgiving passing. Though by the tears escaping her eyes and the ache in her chest, it’s not going to be a good day. She continues to stare out the window, the snow-covered ground and trees in the distance offer a bittersweet illusion of a perfect world. Quiet. Tranquil.

A memory invades Ana’s mind from last year. Her and Bucky snuggled together in front of a fire at Tony’s cabin, talking about a future family. She shakes the memory from her head and finally gets out of bed, ignoring the very real feeling of Bucky’s arms around her. Ignores the phantom scent of his breath and the spiced apple toddy he drank that evening.

Waddling her way to the kitchen with her hand supporting an ache in her lower back, she spots a blessed pot of coffee freshly brewed. Ana hasn’t had such a desperate urge for the taste of coffee in so long, that she nearly drops the mug she pulls from the cabinet in haste. Once she’s poured herself a generous amount, she inhales deeply. The nutty aroma sending her mind straight back to the first day she met Bucky, and all the sessions that followed.

She revels in memory, when she was proud of herself for pulling a smirk out of the infamous Bucky Barnes after she told him she didn’t poison the coffee. How they starting to bond over silly conversation of coffee, how he used to tease her but ask how to make it properly. How Bucky would sometimes show up before her, waiting for her to arrive with coffee in hand. Ana is so lost in her mind, she doesn’t register the shift of air behind her.

“That’s caffeinated, and I know you are not about to drink it while seven months pregnant.”

Snapping back to reality, Ana shoots a glare over her shoulder at Steve. “Being seven months pregnant is the perfect reason to drink it.”

The sigh Steve emits makes her step back out of his reaching range, just in case. “Ana,” He draws out in mock disappointment.

“No! I need it need it, Steve,” She practically whines, clutching the hot mug to her chest. “Especially today. With the snow and these fucking memories, and Carol isn’t here to help regulate me, and my rings don’t fit right now. I just need caffeine, just this once.”

His eyes narrow. “Just this once?” He repeats incredulously. “Didn’t Rhodes catch you sneaking his coffee a week ago?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Ana shrugs, lifting the mug to her lips.

Sounds of scuffling come from the front hallway then, Ana distracted enough for Steve to finally and carefully, snatch the mug away from her hands. She makes a noise of protest, before she sees the dark green branches of a pine tree. Natasha and Rhodes carry in a small tree, with Rocket following behind them, an axe propped over his shoulder.

“What the hell is that?” Ana demands quietly, her chest tightening.

“It’s a tree,” Nat snipes dryly. “What the hell does it look like?”

They set the tree down in the living room, adjusting the stand that’s already anchored to the trunk. An onslaught of rage and heartache overcome Ana for reasons she can’t quite comprehend. Abruptly it takes everything she has not to grab the axe from Rocket, chop the tree into little pieces and throw them into the fireplace.

Holidays are meant to be joyful. Holidays are meant to celebrate with families and loved ones. Holidays are meant to bring brightness. They’re meant for the rest of the world to fade away into warmth, sparkles, the smells of baked goods.

Not this time. Ana sees nothing joyous about that tree, just the inevitable death of its needles. She doesn’t feel the warmth of the season, just the continuous frigid void in her chest. Outside, the falling snow morphs into ashes.

“Get it out of here.” Ana nearly growls, her fists clenching; the lights flicker. She can no longer look at it without wanting to scream.

“Uh, why?” Rhodes demands, crossing his arms. “It’s nearly Christmas.”

“I don’t care, just get it out! I don’t want it in here! It doesn’t belong here!”

Rhodes serves Ana a look so stern, she abruptly feels like a scolded child.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to dial that back,” He commands, gesturing to her. “This is misplaced anger, and you’re taking it out the wrong way. This might not be something you want, but don’t forget, you aren’t the only one suffering through depression. And maybe if you recognized that, you’d realize a damn Christmas tree just might make everyone else forget the shit that’s happened for once.”

His words are a punch to her heart. Immediately all her anger melts from her bones as she looks at the floor. Rhodey is one hundred percent correct, embarrassingly Ana is reminded of how much she truly missed when she shut her emotions off. She hasn’t been fair or considerate of anyone for months. Just because she can’t handle a fucking tree, doesn’t mean she can force anyone else to do the same.

Her throat burns with that wake-up call; the flicker stop flickering. Ana slowly gathers herself, breathes deeply while stroking her hands over her stomach to soothe herself. The baby moves and rolls in response. Finally, she nods.

“You’re absolutely right,” She concedes, meeting his eyes once more. “I’m sorry I snapped. I just…I’m just not in the mood to celebrate any holiday, but I shouldn’t expect anyone else to. I apologize.”

Rhodes stares her down a few moments before his expression breaks. “Accepted.”

The tense silence that follows is heavy and awkward, until Steve pushes the coffee mug back into Ana’s hand. “Just the one cup.”

She silently takes the mug, barely feeling the warmth of the coffee on her fingers. “I’m just going to go lay down now.”

As she makes her exit, Rhodey stops her. “Do you…need anything?” He offers kindly.

She gives him a grateful smile over her shoulder. “No, thank you.”

Steve has been distracting himself from checking up on Ana by pulling the dust covered box of decorations from storage and going through it. Oddly, a glass ornament is wrapped in newspaper, and with a delicate swipe of his fingers over the ink, he’s brought back to another lifetime eight decades ago.

Christmases during The Great Depression weren’t grand; far from it. Memories of Steve stuffing his shoes with old newspapers to keep his feet warm- and possibly give himself a few extra inches in height- fill his head. His mother carefully wrapping handmade ornaments in those same newspapers.

A slightly dirty Bucky just back from working odd jobs here and there, holding up a turkey he received as payment. He had dragged both Steve and his mother over to the Barnes household for a rare Christmas Eve dinner.

Giggles of four little girls huddled together as they watched Steve nail their brother in the face with a slush of a snowball. A quiet night of serving his mother tea as she laid sick in bed. Yet she still gifted him fresh parchment bound together to go with the charcoal pencils Bucky got him earlier.

The memories turn melancholy as Steve remembers that first Christmas without his mother. How Bucky selflessly spent the night away from his own family, taking care of a feverish Steve, even though all he wanted to do was stay huddled in bed and cry himself to sleep from grief. Instead, Bucky pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his tattered coat and dumped some into Steve’s tea.

“Nicked it from that banker's house on the other side of town,” Bucky had shrugged, looked proud of himself before he took a swig from the bottle.

“Buck,” Steve had reprimanded weakly. Until he remembered that banker is the one who cheated on his wife and bragged about it. He had taken too big of a gulp, nearly choked and spluttered.

Bucky waited, patted his back until his airways cleared. “Did that no good, two-timer notice you?”

“Hell no,” Bucky laughed. “Guys like him deserve to have his illegal booze stolen, he’s got enough money to smuggle more. Did you take your medicine?”

Steve held up his mug. Bucky rolled his eyes, then gently pushed him over to snuggle in next to him. Not once did he ever leave Steve’s side. Instead he chatted his ear off with stories of Rebecca attempting to make her own dolls, and that one brunette, brown-eyed dame he tried to save from a sleazy man before she decked the guy square in the jaw.

“I’m sweet on her now. Whatty’a think, Stevie? Think I’ve got a chance with a dame like that?”

(Steve huffs a laugh when he remembers that bit. Bucky always did have a type; it’s no wonder he fell for Ana so quickly.)

"Nah,” Steve said through a cough. “A girl like that wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

“Punk.” Bucky rubbed his knuckles atop his head.

“Jerk.” He weakly shoved him in retaliation.

Silence fell between them; sleep quickly took over Steve’s tired and sick body. He had slid further down the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin.

“Thank you, Buck. For being here.”

Bucky took a minute to respond. “Didn’t want you to be alone during the holidays. With you til the end of the line, pal.”

The light pitters of something wet hitting the newspaper brings Steve back to the present. A few dark drops absorb into the paper before he realizes he’s crying. He hastily wipes the tear off his face, clears his throat and wills away the pain in his heart. Steve gets it. He understands why Ana reacted the way she did.

Shaking his head to clear his past, he rewraps the ornament and returns to his task. Once he’s done, Steve just sits in the closet by himself for a while; allows him himself to wallow. He’s absentmindedly scratching his growing beard, wondering if he should give it a shave when FRIDAY alerts him.

“Captain Rogers, the weather is a brisk 25 degrees outside, with steady snowfall.”

Frowning up at the ceiling as if the AI can see him, he replies, confused. “Thank you? Is there a reason you’re giving me a weather report?”

He swears FRIDAY sigh. “Mrs. Barnes has been sitting out for-“

“Got it, thanks.” Steve cuts her off, yanking the door open. He knows exactly where Ana is.

As he quickly makes his way through the compound, Steve apologizes to that younger Bucky during the all those winters. He recalls his exasperated best friend every time Steve hid out on rooftops and fire escapes after getting into fights. Every time, Bucky had been there with Steve’s coat, or just taken his own coat off to wrap around Steve’s scrawny little shoulders instead.

“Christ, Stevie, your lungs ain’t gonna work anymore the longer you stay out here, punk.”

When Steve climbs through her window, and finally opens the door to the roof, the irony isn’t lost on him. Ana is sitting on the furthest chair, staring out into the frosted woods, snow catching in her long hair. Only a thin blanket over her lap protects her from the cold and the biting wind from the height of the deck. Her hands are protectively cradling the bump of her stomach.

“Ana, what are you doing out here?” Steve questions, briskly walking to her. He places the jacket he found in her room over her shoulders; one of Bucky’s jackets. “You’ll freeze your toes off.”

“You’ll freeze your damn toes off, and I will not explain to your Ma why her son got frostbite.”

He wraps an arm around her, pulling her into his side to share his body heat with her. The old memories of Bucky practically yanking his asthmatic self into a slightly warmer building fade away.

“This is where we kissed the first time,” Ana reminisces, a quiet reserve to her voice. She points adjacent to them. “Right there, when I said those triggers words, he kissed me.”

Steve remembers when Bucky couldn’t stop pacing in his room after that night, panic stricken because he didn’t know how to process his feelings for her. He couldn’t understand how she put so much trust into him. Steve squeezes her shoulder, hoping to offer her some comfort.

“This is where Bucky told me he loved me for the first time. Up here, with pizza.”

His chest feels hollow realizing how many memories this rooftop holds for her. “C’mon honey, it’s not good for you to be out here, let’s go back inside. Warm you up.”

“Nothing is ever going to be the same,” Ana laments as if she didn’t hear him. “Holidays, birthdays, celebrations. Life.”

“Yeah.” Steve exhales wearily.

“I knew this. I knew all of this, but…for months I acted like I was the only one holding onto this grief so heavily. I’ve lost everyone, Steve. I’ve lost my whole family and I never thought I could feel more pain and grief than that. But I was wrong, this is so different. Because I could feel him leave me. I could feel Bucky’s soul rip from mine.”

“It’s incredible, Stevie. I can feel her all the time, like her life energy is this infinite sunlight around me.”

He sees that day clearly when Bucky had said those words to him. He remembers the look of pure awe and adoration on his friend’s face that day. Steve squeezes her closer, offering his comfort in the cold bitter air. Something wet falls onto his shirt, soaks in quicker than the snowflakes. He lifts his hand, gently wiping the tears off her cheeks before the cold can freeze them there.

“Hey now, Steve, c’mon. No tears, they’ll freeze on your face, pal.”

Steve swallows back yet another whispered memory, when he was frustrated the neighborhood bully just kicked his ass no matter how many times Steve got back up.

“Your pain isn’t invalid, Ana,” He tells her delicately, lifting the sleeve of the jacket to dry her face. “That is something none of us will ever begin to comprehend, that connection you both shared.”

“Maybe not,” Ana sniffs, “but that shouldn’t erase anyone else’s pain in my mind and that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Watching you turn off your emotions was- fuck, it was haunting. It was scary because we couldn’t tell if doing that was just hurting you instead. I hated that you did that, but I also understand why you did. I think we just-“ Steve pauses to gather his words properly.

Ana speaks up before he does. “I’ll never be able to express how sorry I am for shutting everyone out, for acting like- well...like a cold hearted-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Steve chastises firmly. “I think we just wanted to have any ounce of your old self back. We were all concerned.”

“I’m still trying to find that myself,” Ana sighs, voice cracking; she sounds exhausted. She tilts her head to the side, leaning on his shoulder. “I got mad about the tree because the memories of last Christmas are perfect. It was our first one together, did you know that? Our first time celebrating the holiday season. I don’t want to celebrate anything.”

“So, keep the eggnog away from you then?” Steve quips lamely. Ana winces and gags.

“Fuck no,” She picks her head back up. “I don’t think the baby’s palate will tolerate that.”

“And I don’t think the baby can tolerate the cold much longer,” He counters. “Let’s get you inside.”

Steve drops his arm in favor of carefully helping up from the chair. Ana winces again, her hands covering her stomach. Pain flashes over her face for a moment, and panic shoots through Steve’s chest.

“Are you okay? What was that?” He asks worriedly, hand hovering along her back.

“It's fine,” She pants, waving him off with her hand. “Just some pressure is all. Little Bean’s running out of room I think.” Relief shags Steve’s shoulders. Until- “The baby is moving a lot. Do you want to feel-?”

“I’m good. That’s not, uh, it’s kind of intimate. Time to go inside.” Steve ignores her bewildered look and focuses on guiding Ana down the stairs safely. He keeps Bucky’s jacket wrapped tight around her.

The memory of last Christmas spent snuggling close with Bucky in front of a fire and talking about their future mocks Ana. It was one of those perfect moments in a lifetime, and she didn’t want to tarnish the memory with this Christmas being...widowed. Alone and 7 months pregnant.

Since Rhodey’s harsh truth, Ana has kept any bitter despair to herself. However, she did allow herself one moment of a Christmas song. It made her smile briefly, before a memory of both Bucky and Tony singing at the top of their lungs as they decorated the tree cut it short.

Ana does not want to decorate the tree. She stays in her room, until Rocket barges in, trailing a bunch of silver tinsel in his wake.

He demands to know, “Who was the asshole to make such a messy infuriating thing to put on a damn stupid tree!?”

Nebula stood at the doorway, a murderous expression on her face as she fights with several pieces of tinsel, static making it cling to her. Ana can’t help the surprised laugh that bubbles out of her at the both of them.

Vaguely, in the back of her mind as Rocket drags her out of her room demanding to untangle the tinsel, Ana thinks the two might have planned it all. She’s exhausted by the time she unknots the stuff, focusing more on the silver plastic and quietly refusing to put anything on the tree.

By the time she’s done, she waddles back to her room, Natasha close behind. All she does is hand Ana a hot mug of cider and snuggles in close. Nat talks to and gently pets her hands over her stomach and promises the baby to teach them her “death by thighs” move one day. Ana drifts off to sleep, head tucked under Natasha’s neck.

When Christmas does come around, it’s with stinging emptiness, of several people missing and the weight of the whole world grieving. At breakfast, as she’s slowly eating, Ana finds herself with a small pile of gifts next to her on the table. Her glare prompts a response from Steve who had given her one more.

“You stayed locked in your room for your birthday last month,” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You aren’t having a baby shower. Just accept them. Please?”

Most gifts end up being for the baby anyway, including a crib, so Ana lets it slide and quietly thanks them.

She ends up fighting back tears the longer she stays out in the living room, desperately wanting to escape. She’s exhausted, down to her bones, and the aching in her chest throbbing Bucky’s name hurts more and more. She closes her eyes and breathes, flexing her fingers and smoothing her hands over her stomach. The baby kicks and moves before it settles a few moments later.

Someone sits next to her, and she doesn’t have to open her eyes to tell that the stupidly large and warm bicep pressing against her own arm is Steve. He doesn’t say anything, just simply takes hold of her right hand, and squeezes.

He doesn’t let go, and despite the prickling of tears behind her eyelids and the trembling of her lips, Ana leans her head against his shoulder. The sense of comfort seeps into her own energy, and soon after she falls asleep.

30 Weeks Pregnant:

Just on the verge of her eighth month, Ana hears Natasha’s irritated sigh, as she munches on a slice of mango pizza.

"Ana, I swear if you don’t stop nesting in the office, I will throw away all the mangoes and you’ll be stuck with mushrooms for your pizza topping from now on.”

As Natasha Romanoff threats go, it’s rather mild. She shrugs as Nat holds up two files as proof.

“It was messy!” Ana defends, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Lucky you’re pregnant,” She grumbles.

“Enhanced hearing, remember?”

Natasha glares at her. “It took me an hour to find my notes. Why don’t you organize Steve’s shit? Or Rocket’s? I haven’t seen you in Nebula’s room, go nest in there.”

“Nebula would cut my hand off, pregnant or not.”

“It’s true.” Nebula speaks up with her husky low menacing voice, pizza slice in hand. Ana raises her eyebrows at her. She pauses. “Maybe.”

Ana beams. Natasha huffs, coming over to join them. She bends over to gently pat Ana’s belly. Which has grown even more in the past weeks, but dropped as well, the baby’s head sitting lower.

“Your mama better name you Natasha after I put up with her little tendencies huh little one?” Nat coos.

“That’ll go over well if Bean is a boy,” Ana jokes, also patting over where she thinks its little foot is. There’s a responding nudge, a rather firm one. Ana frowns. “Sassy.” Natasha chuckles, then steals Ana’s slice. “Hey!”

“Now someone’s hand will be chopped off,” Nebula inputs at the scene. Ana nods with a pout.

“What are you going to do? Waddle after me with your swollen ankles?” Nat teases.

“You’re being mean to me,” She whines, but can’t keep the smile off her face.

Neither can Nat. “Then keep your nesting habits away from my files, Barnes.”

Ana steals the slice back. “I also reorganized your knives.”

That earns another glare. “So, so lucky you’re pregnant.”

It’s rare, these little moments of teasing and humor. Five months have passed since The Snap, and Ana’s grief and pain are still as crushing as ever. Her dreams remain constant. Dealing with feeling her emotions again has become a little easier, but there are days where she feels shattered by them, and cries into her pillow, or the nearest pair of arms.

Lately, it’s been Natasha. But these moments are what helps get Ana and everyone else through the day. Hour by hour, day by day, week by week. She has also been keeping herself in check and trying to be attentive to everyone’s feelings around her.

“Has Steve woman upped yet and felt the baby kick?” Nat wonders. The red roots of her hair are growing back faster now.

“No…He’s still a little creeped out,” Ana yawns. “It’s kinda funny.”

Humming, Natasha suddenly stands up. “Time for your checkup, let’s go.” Groaning, Ana shoves the last bits of her pizza into her mouth. “Come on. It’s one of the last ones before your due date.”

Ana shimmies from her rather comfortable spot on the couch to the edge, taking a deep breath and readying her swollen ankles to stand. Both Natasha and Nebula carefully grab an arm and help Ana up, keeping her steady until she can stand on her own. An odd sort of pressure throb through her stomach, and she frowns, suddenly thankful she does have a checkup today.

Three days later has Ana gasping awake from her dream. This time she swears she feels ashes slip through her fingers. Brings her right back to that horrid day in Wakanda, when she couldn’t reach Bucky in time. The same constricting feeling settles in her chest, and the room begins to feel hot; a golden orange glow briefly emits from her clenched hands.

Before her powers can lash out, Ana moves the best she can, hurriedly grabbing one of the beads. It only takes a few moments to get a video up, but the second she hears his voice, her heart begins to settle. The glow fades, and the rattling in the room that had started ceases.

Bucky’s timbre soothes her, replaying his lullaby twice more. On the third time, Ana pauses the recording, the projected image frozen on Bucky’s sweet face. The gentle fondness in his blue eyes, the slightly crooked smile, his long hair pulled into a bun, his beard just a touch unruly.

She remembers this day precisely; one of the last days Bucky sang to her stomach, to their child. No matter how many times Ana reminded him that the baby couldn’t hear him yet, he never cared.

It never stopped Bucky from randomly moving from one spot -be it the couch, bed, another room, the hut- to wherever Ana was and kept singing. It never stopped him from dropping to his knees as she made another strange snack she was craving in the kitchen and nuzzling his face against her barely there bump. Never kept him from staying up as she fell asleep to his words whispering lovingly against her skin. Feeling his warm breath, his sweet lips, his soft beard, his gentle caress of his fingers over her stomach. Feeling his heart, his love, his soul.

“I can hear it. The heartbeat.” Bucky would tell her, voice thick with emotion.

She hasn’t felt Bucky for months.

Ana reaches out like she does in her dreams, fingers curving over his holographic jaw. She keeps her touch delicate, as to not distort the image. In this moment, only for a moment, she pretends she can feel him. Pretends that her husband is truly looking back at her.

“I’m sorry, Snowflake,” Ana murmurs, tears burning in her throat. “I haven’t been the same without you. I turned off my emotions. You wouldn’t have liked that at all, would you? I don’t even like myself right now.”

Ana swipes the tears off her chin with her left hand. “But I swear I’ll try to be better. I swear I will take care of our baby for both of us, and he, she- our child will grow up knowing exactly who you are and how much you loved them. I just…I miss you. God, I miss you so fucking much I can’t breathe most of the time, and it hurts.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath, tears overcome her, sobs hitching in her chest. Ana brushes her shaking fingers over his cheek, the image rippling from her touch.

“I love you.”

When she turns off the bead and the image vanishes, she weeps into her hands. Ana wipes her cheeks, attempting to calm herself. Taking deep breaths, she places the bead back into it’s safe place in the drawer. A rather sharp kick from within makes her wince, then chuckle.

“Sorry, baby. I know I’ve been crying a lot lately.” Ana says to her stomach, rubbing soothing circles over her belly. “That can’t feel too good for you either.”

Once Ana’s crying slows, she cleans her face with tissues, blows her nose, and throws the tissues away in the bin beside her bed. Just then her ears pick up a sound outside her room. Carefully standing up, she walks to the door, pulling it open.

“Steve,” Ana greets with a sigh. She shouldn’t be shocked at this point.

Steve smiles sheepishly. “You alright?”

“Yeah. How much did you hear?”

He leans against the door frame crossing his arms, his shoulders hunched. “Just the ending. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just came by to see if you want to-“

Another kick and more movement briefly make Ana miss what he’s saying. Blowing a slow breath out she presses her hands over the spot; things are starting to get more uncomfortable.

“Sorry, could you repeat?”

He flashes her an understanding look. “Asked if you wanted to go for a walk with us. Nat and I.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Ana agrees, fighting a wince from the kicking. “Dr. Hammond suggests it now that I seem to be healthy enough. Said the walking could help calm the baby.”

He laughs under his breath. “I can kinda see why,” He says, eyes on her stomach.

“Yeah, this little bean has been more active lately,” She pauses “Steve, um, would you like to feel the baby kick?”

Steve’s eyes snap up to her. “Oh, um, isn’t that a bit personal? I mean-“ He stumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Ana rolls her eyes fondly. This is her husband’s best friend, he shouldn’t feel weird about it. She grabs his hand, placing the flat of his palm just to the right of her stomach. A few long seconds pass, Ana carefully watching Steve’s expression.

His brows are furrowed, his mouth curving down, as if he’s sad the baby isn’t moving for him. Then, the same rolling pushing movement comes once more and Steve’s blue eyes light up.

His mouth falls open slightly, a toothy smile across his lips. “Ana,” He gasps, meeting her eyes. “That’s…amazing.”

Ana can’t help but laugh, her heartache forgotten for the time being. “See, nothing to be nervous about. Kinda cool, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. This, this is your baby. You and Buck’s…” His excitement fades into sorrow. Steve lifts his other hand to the opposite side, lightly scrunching his fingers as if he’s waving in a way.

“How about that walk now?” Ana cuts the melancholy short. She’s starting to feel the energy around them changing. Steve’s energy; the same kind he has been keeping from her. “Is it nice out?”

Pulling his hands off her stomach, Steve clears his throat and nods. “Bit warmer today, 56 right now.”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“No rush.” Steve takes a step before he halts. “Are sure you’re okay, Ana?”

She gives him her most convincing smile, which is a good attempt on her part. “Yeah. Just, missing him a lot today. That’s everyday though,” She chuckles humorlessly. “I swear I’m good, Steve.”

Steve’s scrutiny lasted longer than Ana would have liked. Then he nods. “Take your time.”

The only entertaining thing about New Year’s passing was Ana sitting out on the patio, watching Rocket and Rhodey rig together a contraption to set off fireworks. Natasha sat next to her, Ana’s legs on her lap as she massaged her swollen ankles and feet under a warm cable knit blanket, sitting next to a heater. Nebula and Steve are locked in a card game, when the first firework goes off. Steve flinches then frowns. His eyes meet Ana’s for briefly, before he goes back to discarding.

As explosions go off in the sky, Bucky tightens his arms around Ana’s waist, his face hidden in her neck as he presses a kiss to her pulse. “I don’t think I’m fond of fireworks.”

Ana brushes her fingers through his soft hair, gently scratching his scalp. Slowly she uses her ability to calm his energy, soothe him deeper than a touch. “Makes sense. You are a war vet.”

“Used to hear them go off in Romania sometimes,” Bucky had confessed. “Always thought it was a sign Hydra found me. That they had bombs set around the building I lived in. It was something I could never shake.”

Another one goes off in the distance; Bucky inhales her scent, his hands clutching her skin. Ana catches Tony walking by. “Tony, I thought no one was allowed to set off fireworks up here.”

He catches on quickly, pointing his glass of whiskey towards Bucky. Ana nods, then with an annoyed flare, he says, “Those damn kids. Goodie! I felt like chewing someone’s ear off tonight. I’ll call them!”

Bucky snorts, then sighs in content as Ana continues to relax his nerves with her powers. “They’re pretty, but...too loud.”

“I got you, Snowflake,” Ana promised, pulling up the blanket to cover them both and hide them away.

“I know you do, Annie Doll,” He breathes sleepy. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen though.”

Ana chuckles, kissing the tip of her husband’s head as he drifts off to sleep. She can’t think of a better way to bring in the new year than Bucky feeling safe enough in her embrace to fall asleep, even with the ghosts that still haunt his past.

POP!

Another firework glittering in the winter sky rips Ana out of her memories. She catches the small wince of broad shoulders.

“Hey guys,” Ana calls out to Rocket and Rhodey. “I don’t think the baby is fond of fireworks right now. Do you mind if you stop please?”

Rhodey acknowledges her meaningful look, beginning to replace the ones he took out. Rocket shrugs, turns off the machine they built with a wide grin.

“I just wanted to see if I could build it. I did, now I’m bored.” He states, then meets Ana’s eyes.

“How’s about we beat these losers at a game of poker?”

“Deal.”

Ana only lasts two rounds of poker, before Steve is helping her settle into bed. He insisted on following her and carrying her hot tea for her. She adjusts her body pillow and gets comfortable, tapping her hand over the lower part of her stomach where the baby settled with her.

“Thank you,” Steve says, pulling the comforter up for her. “For the fireworks. I know you did it for me.”

“Bucky and I,” Ana begins, pausing only to push past the lump in her throat. “We stayed at Tony’s cabin during the holidays. I don’t think he heard fireworks go off in a while, and out in the woods you aren’t allowed to bring them or set them off. Some neighbors did, and he was nervous about them. I calmed him as much as I could.”

“He never told me that,” Steve says, frowning. The look he gives Ana though, makes her feel bashful. His features soften, and he almost looks...happy. “He was always so in love with you, Ana, before he even knew it. Bucky wasn’t one to ever open up to anyone, even when we were kids. Watching him with you…I’m glad he found you.”

Ana sniffs, rubbing her eyes to stop the tears welling up from falling. The empty ache in her chest is a permanent feeling.

“Sorry, too much Bucky talk. You were having a better night, I shouldn’t ruin it.” Grabbing her hand, he gives it a firm squeeze.

“It’s alright. I just...didn’t want you to feel that same way.” She squeezes back.

“Get some sleep, Ana.”

As she relaxes, her body ready for said sleep, she says, “You too, Steve.”

It’s one of her better days; Ana sleeps through midnight, but the haunting call of her name still echoes through her mind. Her soul still screaming for its other half.

The week following the new year is slow, as if 2019 wants to remind them of half the universe gone. However, Ana’s panic slowly begins to build as she realizes there’s just over a month of the baby arriving.

She’s sitting in the room they decided to turn into a nursery -the room right next to hers- slowly stroking her hands over and over her round stomach. Looking around the room gives her mixed feelings.

A part of her seems to be happy, almost excited to be a mother. The other parts outweigh the joy, however. The bare walls, void of any decorations, makes her heart break. The dark wood of the crib and the changing table makes her seethe. The little animal mobile above the crib breaks her. The mobile hangs an orange fox, a gray owl, a brown bear, and a white wolf.

Pushing herself off the rocking chair, Ana grabs the wolf and tears it off. The whole mobile comes down, crashing into the crib, but the wolf is clutched in her palm. She stares at it, anger boiling in her blood for reasons she can’t explain.

The harder she squeezes, the brighter her hand becomes. Flickering lights throw the room into shadows, over and over. Smoke is beginning to emit from the little wolf, her chest tightening as the edges singe.

“I leave for, what, three weeks, and here you are literally starting fires in your hands.”

Ana snaps her head up. Carol Danvers is standing in front of her, amusement dancing in her eyes instead of any reprimandation. Carefully she places both of her hands over Ana’s fist, and all her raging energy subsides. She hadn’t been aware of anyone coming into the room, so focused on the white wolf.

Quickly pulling her hand out of Carol’s, Ana slowly uncurls her fingers. Sitting in the middle of her palm are the remains of the wolf, completely incinerated. Panicking, she drops it, the tiny ashes caught between her fingers.

“Oh my god,” Ana whispers, horrified at herself.

“Hey, Barnes, I’m sure it's fine,” Carol tells her gently. “They can get you another one.”

“You-you don’t understand,” Ana shakes her head frantically. Ash. Ashes on her hand, her fingers, ingrained in her skin. “I-I have to wash my hand. I have to wash my hand!”

“Come on.”

Carol guides her out of the room, a steady hand on her back, and into the bathroom. Ana proceeds to scrub her right hand at least four times, and once again until her skin feels raw. She feels out of breath afterward, reaching for Carol once more.

“Can you take some deep breaths for me?” Carol coaches, helping her sit on the edge of the tub.

Ana huffs. “I’m trying. I-I can’t. No! Don’t touch me! What if…what if I hurt you? Like I hurt Steve?”

“Look at me, Ana. You are fine, you’re okay right now. You just got worked up and that’s okay.” Carol keeps firm eye contact. She attempts to hold her hands again, this time Ana allows her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You aren’t going to hurt me or anyone else.”

Finally, Ana gets a deep breath in. She regulates her breathing with help from Carol, until she feels like her senses and energy are no longer overstimulated. Once she’s calm, they leave the bathroom and head outside to the bac deck at Ana’s request. The chill of the air clears her head more as she sinks into a chair.

“It was a white wolf,” Ana tells Carol. Her silence is a cue to elaborate. “My husband...Bucky. He was given that moniker while he was recovering in Wakanda. He told me they sort of adopted, well, accepted him into their family, their culture. King T’Challa told me it also meant strong warrior.”

“That why you tore it off?” She guesses.

Ana shrugs, thinking it over. “I think I was already feeling too many emotions. I saw it, it reminded me of him and how- how everything in that room, we didn’t pick together. Hell, I barely picked anything in that room. I really appreciate Pepper and Nat setting it up, but we couldn’t do it together.”

Danvers remains quiet again, but Ana is grateful for it. She’s pretty good at reading how Ana is feeling, and her silent support is more appreciated than she knows. Ana’s energy always seems to stay dormant every time Carol is close. It’s something interesting to look into later.

“Where have you been?” Ana asks after some time.

During this time Steve found them after FRIDAY alerted him and gave her a thick blanket to keep warm. He stayed long enough to turn on the heaters, then left the women alone, but quietly thanked Carol in a nod Ana caught.

Carol sighs, slumping in her chair and propping her heels on the table. “Other planets. Some are worse from the repercussion of what that purple scrotum sack did. Been getting a lot of hits on my radar. I came back to bring you more elixir in case you needed it. And to check in on my favorite avenger.”

“M’not an avenger but Nat’s in the shooting range. Nebula is...I don’t know what she’s doing but I’m afraid to ask sometimes.”

She snorts. “So, should I not get you a stuffed wolf when the baby is born?”

Ana flicks her off, but Carol’s resounding laugh brings a smile to her face.

When Pepper calls two days later, Ana can’t help but feel something odd about their conversation. As they chat about pregnancy, (”It’s like every ten minutes, Pep, I have to pee every ten minutes!”) Ana asking for any advice her cousin may for her upcoming labor, something continues to feel off. Especially when Pepper drops Tony’s name three times. The mention of him causes her to remember something about FRIDAY.

“Oh!” Ana perks up. “Has FRIDAY informed you of anything about me? Or to-”

A little voice pops up in the background, begging for a snack. “One second, sweetie,” Pepper says to her daughter, then back to Ana. “She just tells me your vitals sometimes.”

“That’s it? She doesn’t ask you for permission to use a security protocol?”

“I- Morgan, be patient please, I’m making it now. Sorry, Ana.”

“It’s fine. I was just wondering why T- um...FRIDAY would feel the need to program an added feature.”

“What are you trying to ask?”

“I just...why would someone need to add an electric defense mechanism-”

“You know what?” Pepper cuts her off, exasperated. “I’m tired of being a go between. I have a toddler to raise who is currently trying to cut her own grapes, and I can’t deal with this right now. I love you, but if you want to know why, you need to ask him yourself.”

“Pep, what are you-”

“This riff between you two has gone on long enough. Talk to each other. I already have one child, I don’t need to raise two more. Speaking of which, you need to tell him. Here!”

“Wait, no!” Ana’s shout disturbs Rhodey from reading his book.

He casts a curious glance her way. She frantically shakes her head, though Pepper can’t see her. Rhodey has now put down his book, mouthing an over dramatic what? Before she can let him know what is about to happen, it happens. There’s a shuffling on the other side of the line, followed by a confused yelp.

Quickly pressing the phone to her chest, she looks over at Rhodey in panic. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms; a sign of him agreeing with Pepper after he caught on. Taking a few calming breaths, Ana puts the phone back to her ear.

“-think the line went dead,” Is what she hears on the other side. Tony’s voice.

Heartbeat kicking up several notches, Ana braces herself. “I’m- I’m here.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. “Hello.”

He sounds like he’s meeting a CEO of a company he dislikes. As if he would rather be anywhere else than speak with her.

“Hey, uh, hi. H-how are your day?” Ana cringes, wishing the ground would cave from under her. How are your day? Why is she so nervous to just speak with him!

“Good, great. If that was a question.” Tony answers, his voice is carefully calculated. “How are your day?” He repeats.

If she wasn’t feeling so guilty, so anxious, she may have laughed. Instead, she decides to get right to it. The sooner she tells him, the sooner she can end this painful phone call. “I have something to tell you.”

“Pepper mentioned.”

Right. Fuck, if she didn’t answer her phone, this wouldn’t be happening. Maybe Ana would have been fine with never telling Tony, and he would just have found out some other way. She just knows, deep down, how hurt he might possibly be.

She has never kept anything from Tony for as long as she knew him. With the way they left each other five months ago, well, telling him something he hadn’t known for this long could just drive the wedge between them even deeper.

Ana opens her mouth but all that comes out are tiny sounds of words dying on her tongue. She closes her mouth, eyes shifting to Rhodey, who nods encouragingly. Ana gathers herself once more, swallows her hurt and any pride she may have.

“Tony,” She finally says.

“Yep?” His response is quick; a tone Ana knows all too well. It’s the tone he uses to mask his own hurt.

“I-I should have told you sooner, but-” Inhale. Exhale. It shouldn’t be that hard to tell him this. Tony had been with her through some of the hardest events in her life. Suddenly not telling him feels like she insulted him personally.

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence that stretches lasts so long, Ana has to check if the line went dead; it didn’t. “Tony?”

“How far? Five months?” Tony finally speaks up. He sounds distant.

“Eight.” The word comes out as a whisper. “I’m eight months along. 34 weeks.”

“Had an inkling. Do you want a congratulations?”

Ana feels like she was just slapped in the face. Tony doesn’t sound angry, just neutral, but even so, the words sting more than she ever thought they would. Her eyes prickle, her vision gets blurry. She clears her throat, turning her back on Rhodey so he doesn’t see her reaction.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just wanted you to know.”

“Girl, boy?” He asks.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Going old school, I see.”

“I just...I figured it was time to tell you,” Ana’s voice trembles. Her heart is aching, like she just ripped a band-aid from a gaping wound she forgot about. “I’ll let you-”

“Is it healthy?” Tony abruptly cuts her off. “Are…are you healthy?”

The question catches her off guard. “I- yeah. Um, there’s been some emotional stress and bed rest incidents, but otherwise, we’re healthy.”

“Good, good. That’s good. It’s late, you should go, rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Ana says weakly, feeling drained and disappointed. “Yeah. Um, have a good night.” She pulls the phone from her ear to hang up, then hears Tony call her name.

“Ana.”

She quickly holds the phone back up. “Yeah?”

“Will you let me- let us know? When it’s time?”

Ana can’t be too sure, but she thinks she picks up a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Yeah, I will. I’ll tell you.”

Another beat of silence passes. “G’night, kid.”

The nickname feels bittersweet, but maybe it’s a step in rekindling what she ruined of their relationship. “Goodnight, Stark.”

After she hangs up, a firm yet comforting hand squeezes her shoulder. “You good?” Rhodes checks.

Nodding, Ana shoots him something close to a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I just...I think I miss him. I do miss him.”

“You should have told him that. I know he misses you too.”

“Maybe...next time.”

Just those few minutes of that conversation has left Ana exhausted. She decides to take a nap, hoping that maybe sleeping will ease the ache on her chest.

Annie

Pain abruptly pulls Ana out of her sleep, ripping away from that dream world. She stares at the ceiling in confusion, wondering what exactly hurt enough to wake her up. Minutes pass, her eyes closing as she’s on the verge of falling asleep yet again, when the second wave hits.

“Oh fuck!” Ana yelps, her hands flying to her stomach. “F-F-FRIDAY, am I having a contraction?”

“I cannot be 100% accurate,” FRIDAY responds quickly. “I have alerted Agent Romanoff. There is a possibility of Braxton Hicks Contractions. I suggest changing positions and counting the minutes between each one.”

Annie

A mixture of a sob and laugh escaped Ana’s lips, because of course she would hear his voice now as she hisses curses through her teeth. Oddly, the voice seems to calm her internal panic, through her pain. As she begins to sit up and shift, Natasha throws open the door.

She’s talking but Ana can’t focus on her words just yet, too busy trying to lay on her side and fight through the contracting pressure. Thankfully, Nat helps her move and settle into a new position. Too long goes by, but finally the pain stops.

“Breathe, remember those exercises,” Natasha is telling her, rubbing her back. Ana adjusts her pillows, feeling utterly exhausted. “Do you know how long that was?”

“Two minutes and 24 seconds,” FRIDAY informs them. “Twenty minutes apart from the first one.”

“FRIDAY get Dr. Hammond on the phone please.”

“Already contacted.”

Ana just shuts her eyes, listening to the slight commotion around her. The baby moves, an elbow or foot clearly unhappy about the lack of space inside her uterus. She rubs her hand around her stomach, ignoring her fear of not being ready quite yet; it’s too early to give birth. Ana begins to wonder how Bucky would have handled this.

Instead of feeling sad, a small smile spreads across her lips. Imagining someone like Bucky who was usually pretty calm and level-headed in most situations, his longtime soldier status the reason for that, would probably be panicking. Considering how he always acted any time Ana was in pain or discomfort.

“You look like a crazy person smiling like that.”

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to call a pregnant woman crazy?” Ana mumbles, cracking her eyes open to see Rocket smirking at her. “Are you so starved for entertainment you wanted to see what potential childbirth is like?”

Rocket shrugs, smirking. “Once I convinced some jerk the only way to smuggle his gun off Contraxia was to shove it up his ass. This isn’t as fun.”

A chuckle escapes her mouth, and suddenly the pressure she’s been feeling in her lower abdominal eases away. Ana heaves out a deep, long breath. Rocket’s smirk morphs into concern as he reaches out to gently pat the back of her hand.

“Can I confess something?” She whispers to him. He steps closer, tilting his head down. “I’m not ready yet.”

Rocket leans closer. “If you want to know my opinion. I think you got this.”

Then he winks as if they’re conspiring. Ana reaches out to gently stroke his ear. Rocket looks shocked at the affectionate gesture, then he relaxes, smiling like he’s proud to make her feel better.

Natasha interrupts their moment. “Ana, Dr. Hammond is on the phone. She’s on the way but wants to talk to you if you can.”

Taking the phone with her doctor relaxes Ana further. Though when she explains the severity of the pain, Dr. Hammond suggests she have a bag ready in case she does have to go to the hospital. The doctor also requests that the AI to monitor her closely and send FRIDAYs system readings be sent to her On-Call phone, just in case.

Through the night, two more odd contractions occur. Although being irregular and far apart though not any less painful, one more call to the doctor has Ana cursing Braxton Hicks contractions. Natasha stays with her the whole time, and Steve lingers by the closed door for far too long.

Sighing, Ana demands sleepily. “Rogers, just come in already, my god.”

Sheepishly, Steve enters the room, and hunkers down at the end of her bed. Ana drifts off into the same world where Bucky is always waiting for her, always barely able to touch her. When she wakes up from the clouds of ash, she slowly turns over. The sight she’s met with makes the tears in her eyes dry up.

Apparently, during the night, everyone made their way into her room. Nebula, Rocket, Carol and Rhodes all sleeping around the bed or propped up against the wall or chair. Smiling, Ana falls back to sleep.

35 Weeks: January 22nd

Over the last three days, Ana has become lethargic. She’s just so tired all the time, despite sleeping for a few solid hours. Maybe the constant trips into that dream world with the little girl and Bucky leave drain her energy more than she ever thought it would. Maybe waking up, never able to save Bucky is taking its toll, and her heart, her soul just aches. She is just so tired.

Though being eight months pregnant and having false contractions probably has something to do with how exhausted she’s been. Ana has yet to tell anyone about her dreams, or how they leave her feeling just as empty as the day it happened. Informing anyone would just lead to more worry, have them doting on her more than they already do.

Steve constantly eyes her, a twitch in his corded muscles as if he is ready to jump into action for her. He thinks he is being covert; he isn’t. Ana can still read and pick up on feelings and energies. Natasha is more inconspicuous about it, rather she just lingers in any room Ana shows up in. Nebula has taken to just drop next to her, pulling out the deck of playing cards, her dark eyes keen if Ana just shifts wrong.

Rocket chats her ear off with stories of him and the Guardians. Most adventures leave Ana clutching her big round stomach in laughter. It’s the most she has laughed in months, and she swears the little raccoon does this because she admitted she was scared to him.

Rhodes has been pulled away for more government and military business, although he calls to check in everyday. Carol keeps offering the last bottle of elixir but when Ana refuses, she just gives her a cup of tea instead. With sneaking suspicion, Ana thinks the tea is laced with the elixir anyway.

As the winter sun begins to set, its light casts an orange glow through the windows, makes the whole area look warm. To Ana, it bares too much a resemblance to her dreams. She turns to head to bed early, leaving the haunting sight of the sunset to paint the interior with its mockery. Ana grabs the mug of tea Danvers left seeping for her, turning her back on the light.

With the twist of her hips, a sharp stabbing pain shoots through her stomach. Ana shouts, dropping the mug, shattering on the floor as she doubles over in pain. This clenched pressure is more severe than the other night, Ana can’t even straighten up. She clutches the counter for balance, panting and gritting her teeth.

Annie.

“Ana!?” Someone calls in fear.

Trying to regulate her breathing, the pain slowly eases up. Ana cautiously straightens up, but the second she does, another pain zings through her lower stomach. Her fingers grip the counter so hard, the granite cracks, gives, then crumbles under her vice grip.

Strong arms wrap around her, balancing her the best they can. Ana is vaguely aware she’s being moved, but through the blinding pain, there’s an internal fear of something hurting her baby. The pain, the agony, the hurt; something isn’t right.

“Ba- the -ba-by,” Ana stammers, chest heaving, hands now clutching her stomach. Beneath her palms, she feels the baby writhe. “Fuck! It- it’s hurting.”

“What? What’s hurting the baby?” Someone demands urgently. “Call 911! Or get the jet ready! Anything! Ana. Ana, honey, look at me, can you hear me?”

All she hears is a panicked tone, firm callous hands squeezing her elbows. The baby shifts, curling and twisting in her stomach. Ana wants to reach in and protect her child, their child, from whatever is causing this white-hot agony.

She won’t release her arms from around her stomach, she can’t respond to anyone’s worried calls. She just shuts her eyes, tears stinging before they escape. She’s panting, trying to breathe but the darkness around the searing pain is almost too seductive to resist.

Suddenly, the pain stops. Ana can finally breathe in and out, in and out. Once she can inhale without any more contractions, she can finally speak.

“Something is wrong,” She breathes out, fear clenching around her heart. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just continue to breathe like you are,” Natasha urges, her voice shaky. “If you’re able to make it to the quinn jet we can fly you to the hospital.”

Bracing herself on whoever is holding her, Ana grabs at their shoulders slowly standing up. Concerned blue eyes gaze down at her, roaming over her face for any other signs of pain. Steve lifts his hand to her forehead, pressing his knuckles against her skin.

“Shit, you’re burning up. Let’s go, I’ll carry you if you can’t walk.” Steve offers, about ready to do just that.

“No,” She heaves, wincing as a lesser contraction wrecks her. She waits until it eases up. “But-but- these are too close together.” Ana gasps then, looking down at her legs, her pants soaked. “My water just broke.” She whispers, terrified. “Steve, it’s too early.”

The way those blue eyes shift from his own fear to determination soothes her terror just a little. Steve and Natasha volunteer to go with her, though Carol insists she help bring Ana up to the launch pad. As they leave, a concerned Rocket waves, wishing her good luck.

“Have fun,” Nebula pipes up after Ana is nearly out of ear shot.

“Have fun?” Rocket deadpans.

Nebula just shrugs, her hands balled into tight fists.

Arriving at the nearest hospital only takes fifteen minutes by jet. By some mercy, Ana doesn’t have another contraction or pain during the flight. Once they get her a wheelchair though, another occurs. People are talking around her as she fights and breaths through the pressured pain entering the hospital.

“Who’s your obstetrician?”

“Uh,” Ana pants, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. “Dr. Hammond.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to continue talking after that, as Dr. Hammond rushes through the doors of the floor they’re on. Grateful for Natasha taking over for filling out the remaining information needed.

“Is anyone coming in with you, Ana?” Dr. Hammond inquires, after speaking with some nurses. She looks between Steve and Natasha.

The question catches her off guard. “No! No. I-” Ana chokes up, nearly breaking down with grief because Bucky isn’t here. She feels his absence, his death more than ever. “I can do it on my own.”

Those words seem to strike a chord with Steve. He abruptly moves in front of her, bending to her eye level. Fierce protectiveness shining in those blue eyes. Steve grips her hands hard enough for her to know.

“Ana,” He begins lowly, firmly. "You don't have-"

“I’m scared," She admits. Her bottom lip trembles as hot tears finally spill from her eyes. "I’m so scared. It’s too early. What if-“

Hushing her gently, Steve carefully pushes back her damp hair. “I know, I know you’re scared right now. You can do this. I know you can. You are not alone. I’m with you, Natasha’s with you. We’re right here for you. You don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want to.”

Ana squeezes his hands as another mild contraction rolls through her. She hunches over, listening to Steve instruct her to breathe deeply. When it subsides, she looks up at him through tears.

“How can you be so sure?” She asks breathlessly.

He blinks, taking a second to realize what she means. Then his face softens. “Because you’re you. Because you’re the most determined, stubborn, and strong woman I know. You can do this. Then you get to meet your child after, and that is going to be amazing.”

Ana nods, trying her best to believe him. “Yeah, yeah you're right. I-I wish Pepper were here though.”

“We called her, she’s one her way.” Natasha pipes in, handing back the clipboard to the nurse.

"Nat,” Ana shudders out another deep breath as the baby wiggles around. Suddenly Steve’s words strike her deeper. “Will you stay with me?”

“I won’t leave your side.” Natasha promises fiercely.

Dr. Hammond jumps in then, informing Ana of a drug they’re going to give her to slow the labor, then run some tests. She instructs Natasha of a nurse coming out to bring her sanitary and protective gear for the delivery room when it’s time.

They wheel her towards another set of double doors, and that’s as far as Steve can follow for now. Before they go through, he bends over, placing a kiss on top of Ana’s head.

“You’re strong. You can do this. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.” Steve reminds her fervently.

Annie

A newfound strength enters her body. Ana can’t be certain if it was Steve giving her one last encouragement through her powers, or the voice in her ears.

Administering the drug does help slow Ana’s labor down, and thankfully she’s able to get the epidural put in. Steve is allowed to visit once she’s checked into her room and bed. Pepper gets delayed by a mild snowstorm but promises to be there as soon as she can.

Usually giving a drug to delay preterm labor to a soon to be mother works better, if the mother didn’t have a form of super soldier serum in her DNA. The drug wears off just nine hours later, as Ana found out as she awoke with more intense pains. Before she knows it, it’s time.

“Ready?” Dr. Hammond questions as she settles between Ana’s legs.

Frantically Ana shakes her head, scrambling to find Natasha’s hand. Nat grabs her hand with both of hers, leaning close to her head. It’s still too soon. What if something goes wrong? What if her powers act out? Oh god, what if baby doesn’t survive?

Natasha’s soothing voice in her ear encourages Ana as she pats the back of her hand. Listening to her words as the doctor and nurses prepare behind her propped-up feet, begins to calm Ana just a little. She swears she feels Nat’s steady, relaxed energy seep into her.

Instructions to push when necessary are relayed to Ana, but as she screams and shouts through gritted teeth and crushes Natasha’s hand, she has to. When the pushing starts, the lights in the room glow brighter. They begin to flicker, the room fading in and out of darkness. A golden hue shines around Natasha’s hands clasps over Ana’s. Her friend calling her name is slowly fading away, as she begins to fall under water.

Annie

She hears the muffled concerned voice of the doctor; something is wrong with the baby. Ana fights to stay awake. Fights to give her baby a chance because if Ana fades away now, will she take her child with her?

No. She refused to let that happen. Pushing with all her might, she channels what she has of her own energy through her blood, her body, to her child.

Annie

The voice beckons to her again. Over and over; a haunting echo of a lullaby. Ana stops fighting, allows the darkness of a faded loving caress to pull her in. She hears cries fill the room just as her world goes black.

Stillness. Quiet. Serenity.

The absence of sound slowly pulls Ana up from the ground. As she stands there, her mind void of any thought, she stares ahead at the endless horizon. An invisible grip tugs from inside her chest, her feet moving of their own accord. She moves through the glassy sea, ripples spreading out with each step.

Blinking to awareness, Ana is face to face with a dark wooden door.

A small touch wraps around her left hand. Looking down, she sees that same little girl; her beautiful green skin, the markings on her cheeks, her red-brown hair. It’s her big eyes that gaze up at Ana that always reach into her heart. Ana closes her fingers around her little hand.

“Where am I?” Ana inquires, her voice quiet echo.

The child smiles. There’s something sad about it. “I think you know.”

Casting a glance around at the horizon of every way, she nods. “What is your name?”

The girl pauses, but only for a moment. “Gamora.” It’s then she releases her hand and steps back. “You aren’t here for me though. That’s okay. I can wait.”

Perplexed, Ana asks, “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Gamora holds her arm out to the door in front of them. Ana shifts her eyes to the door, and what awaits on the other side. When she looks to the little girl once more for guidance, Gamora is gone. She doesn’t ponder where she could have vanished to. Ana places her hands on the door, and pushes.

Warmth blooms from her chest, as if her soul ignites within. Her heart fills with hope, with love, and with terror. Ana has been met with this same sight before. Has felt these same feelings race through her veins every time she sleeps.

Bucky stands before her. Same ocean blue eyes, same soft expression, same little smile on his lips. He takes a step forward, lifting his right hand. Ana bites her lip, dreading for when they make contact, he will crumble into ash like always.

“Hi Annie,” Bucky speaks. His voice seeping into her bones.

Despite the inevitable pounding through her chest, Ana brings her own hand up. Slowly, she reaches for him, the warmth of his hand erases any fear. Bucky intertwines their fingers together, his smile widening. Ana moves closer, squeezing his knuckles. When Bucky remains solid and firm in front of her, tears fill her eyes.

“Bucky.” His name leaves her lips on a sob.

Her husband gently cups her cheek with his left hand, the cold of his metal palm sending goosebumps all over her skin. Ana presses her lips to his hand, holding onto to this moment for as long as she can. Bucky pulls his hand from hers, only to wrap his arm around her waist, tugging her to his chest. Ana grips him tight around his back, resting her ear directly over his heart that she can hear pounding in his chest.

“Are you real?” She murmurs, tears falling down her cheeks.

His soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. He leans back, delicately cups her cheek to pick her head up. Bucky connects their foreheads, eyes gazing affectionately into hers. His vibranium thumb sweeps along her cheekbone, wiping away her tears.

“I’ve always been real in your dreams, darling.”

Ana lifts her hand from his back to brush her fingers through his soft hair. “Is that what this is then? Just a dream?”

"Not exactly.” He laments with a sigh. Ana leans back, and the happiness in those beautiful eyes of his fade away. “I fear you may be here permanently if you don’t leave soon.”

“But I- I just got you back,” Ana frowns, shifting her hand from his thick hair to his cheek. The soft scruff of his beard tickles her palm. Bucky turns his head, kissing her palm. Her heat sinks then. “This isn’t real.”

Sadly, Bucky shakes his head. “This isn’t your world. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be selfish and just hold you a bit longer.”

Ana fully throws her arms around him in a vice grip, foolishly thinking if she can hold him tight enough, he can stay buried in her soul forever. His returning hug is just as hard, the pain from his grip just confusing her more. They move at the same time, finding each other’s mouth and placing a firm, desperate kiss to their lips.

“I need you to go back now, love,” Bucky gently urges, after he breaks their kiss.

“I don’t want to,” Ana cries, now clutching at his chest. “I need you.”

Bucky’s eyes suddenly fill with tears, falling over the edge and down his cheeks. For the first time Ana has ever entered this dream world, Bucky has never cried. She delicately wipes the wetness from his beautiful face. His smile breaks her heart.

“Someone else needs you now, Ana.” He tells her. Bucky kisses her forehead. “It’s time to go.”

Her chest tightens then, as if her soul is losing him all over again. Nodding as tears continue to fall, Ana wraps him up in her arms one last time, holding onto his warmth. She presses her right hand firmly over his chest, memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you, Bucky. James, I-I love you so much,” Ana sobs.

Bucky runs his fingers through her hair, bringing the strands up to his mouth, before letting the hair fall back into place. “You’re my heart and soul, Ana. I love you.” He gently kisses her lips. When he pulls back once more, his blue eyes shine with pride. “She’s beautiful, by the way. Take care of her, Annie.”

“She?” Ana frowns, confused.

He places his hands on her chest. “Wake up.”

Then, Bucky fades into dust.

Ana gasps.

"We got a pulse!” Someone shouts.

Ana blinks up at too bright lights, dazed, confused, abruptly cold. The commotion around her fades into the background as she slowly becomes aware of her surroundings. Her fingers scratch against stiff cotton, her damp skin making them feel too sensitive against her hands.

A dull pressure releases from her lower half, from her stomach perhaps? Her back? Her hips? Nope, it’s definitely soreness between her legs. She’s cold and sweaty, can now feel her hair sticking to her face. Her chest is heaving, her arms lifting as to reach for something.

“I don’t understand, her vitals stabilized quickly. They’re all normal, doctor.”

The minute the words break through the muffled barrier of whatever ocean she was under, is the minute she hears the crying. In a rush of sensory overload, everything crashes back to her.

Her baby. Ana just gave birth.

“Mrs. Barnes? Ana, can you hear me?” Dr. Hammond’s voice is speaking to her right.

Nodding frantically, Ana answers her hoarsely. “Y-yes. I’m fine. I-where’s my baby?”

Still a little unfocused, she misses when the nurses double check her vitals, and then, the wails of an infant come closer. Someone questions if it’s a good idea, doubts the steady condition she seems to be in. Whoever it was is shot down though, as blonde and red hair come into Ana’s vision.

“Thank, god,” Natasha breathes, her shoulder sagging. “You scared us.” She shakes her head, then smiles. “Would you like to meet your daughter now?”

Carefully, Natasha hands over a little bundle of a blanket, laying Ana’s baby on her chest. Hands works to gently tug down her gown and unwrap the blanket. It’s that first skin to skin contact, that first feel of her baby girl’s beating heart against her mother’s, that breaks Ana.

Ana cries, sobs, as she delicately holds her daughter against her chest. For the first time in a long time, her soul pulses with warmth.

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

Drabbles: Twenty-Three Drabbles: Twenty-Five

(Note: Ana’s labor/birth is loosely based off of my sister-in-laws experience.)

Tags: @thecreatiivecorner @buckyland @stressedasalways @watchoutforfrostbite @justreadingfics @keldachick @eurynome827 @elatedmarvel @shesalatesh @paintedgreywriting @buckaroo-blue @afewmarvelousthoughts @crushedbyhyperbole @shesalatesh @jaxthebookworm

#bucky barnes x ofc #Bucky Barnes x Ana #bucky barnes x ana rios #steve rogers x platonic!ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x original female character #delicate stages drabbles #delicate stages of life #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst #baby barnes

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hedwigstalons · 5 years ago

Text

High Expectations - Ch13

Ok, art challenge officially flunked. I managed 12 chapters though and as someone who did not art I think I’ve spent more time being creative over the course of this fic than I have in the last 20 years cumulatively. I’m still going to keep drawing (I’m actually quite enjoying it) but the writing and sketching schedules are not aligning.

@willow-salix has been incredibly patient with me, it would probably be a very different (and much shorter) story without her.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Thirteen

Jeff had been surprised to get out of his meeting and find the memo on his desk. He hadn’t known his eldest son was coming home so the request that he make it back in time for dinner was pleasant if unexpected. It would be nice to have another adult in the house. Maybe having Scott around for a few days would set a good example to Gordon and get him to buck his ideas up; his fourth son was still being a distinct trial on his patience.

He entered the apartment to snippets of conversation and laughter that drifted down from the kitchen. Scott’s clear voice carried strongly down the hallway and the sound of his eldest brought a smile to his face and he hurried through to see the son he now saw the least of.

“Evening Gordon” a quick, curt greeting to one son before turning to the other, “Scott, this is a pleasant surprise, how come you’re here?”

“Hi Dad. I just had some leave owing, I thought I’d come back and see you folks. It is ok for me to stay isn’t it?”

“Course it is, Son, this is your home after all.”

“Thanks. Dinner’s nearly ready, it needs another, what, ten minutes?” Scott looked across at Gordon for confirmation and got a nod in return.

“Great, I’ll just go get washed up. Where’s Alan?” he asked, noting that the table had only been set for three.

“Senior science club. You’d know that if you paid any attention to his schedule.”

The animosity radiated off of Gordon and Jeff noted the warning hand Scott placed on his younger brother’s arm, urging him to keep his cool.

“Fine. Well, I’ll be back in a few minutes boys.”

As Jeff exited the kitchen Scott turned to Gordon, still keeping hold of his arm.

“Look, I know things aren’t great between the pair of you…”

“Understatement” he was interrupted with a snort and an eye roll.

“...but please don’t make things any harder than they have to be.”

“Fine, I’ll be a good boy.”

“Gordon…!”

“Ok. No arguing with the old man, I get it. Now, can you let go of me please, I need to turn the stove off.”

Scott released his brother who turned back to the bubbling pans on the stove and put the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing. They carried the plates and dishes over to the table between them and waited for their father to join them before starting. The smells coming out of the pots were really quite tempting, it looked like Virgil was right when he said their brother had hidden talents. The meat was grilled to perfection and the sauce was full of flavour.

“This is delicious Scott.” Jeff commented after spearing a piece of broccoli.

“Actually, Gordon cooked, I just did what I was told.”

“Hmpf, at least one of you can follow instructions then. Did you finish your personal statement Gordon? I want to see it after dinner.”

Scott realised that the arguments clearly flowed both ways. No wonder Gordon had been so miserable if every achievement was overlooked and every opportunity to take a dig at his failings was fully exploited. With every passing minute they were in close proximity, and each sniping comment from their father, that fragile confidence he had bolstered was visibly leaching out of Gordon. He noticed with concern that Gordon’s plate was still worryingly full. How could a man that was meant to love his children equally be so complimentary to him in one breath and scathing to Gordon in the next? He had always been prepared to excuse their father’s faults, the long hours of work and pushing responsibility onto himself and Virgil was an unfortunate consequence of a man trying to do his best for his family, but he couldn’t stay quiet over tonights’ injustice. Placing down his fork he took a deep breath and prepared to enter the fray.

“Actually Dad, Gordon and I have been busy this afternoon. It’s my fault he hasn’t done it.”

“Well he can work on it after dinner then, the next college application cycle will be closing soon. Perhaps you can give him some pointers.”

“I’ll help Gordon with his application but it won’t be for college.”

Jeff, sensing insubordination, narrowed his eyes. He had come to expect it from Gordon but Scott had always followed his lead. This new development was surprising.

“Well what else would he be applying for?”

“WASP.” It came out slightly louder than Scott intended causing the surrounding silence to deepen ominously. He held his father’s gaze and set his jaw in determination. He had committed to supporting Gordon and was prepared to make a stand.

“Not that nonsense again” The rebuttal was swift and accompanied by the clatter of steel against crockery as the remains of the meal were abandoned. Jeff’s anger rose swiftly at the mention of the aquanaut patrol. “He’s too young and hardly has the right temperament to follow orders. Even if they would accept him he would probably be court marshalled out within a month and I will not have that sort of shame brought on the family”

“He won’t be too young in February and he has exactly the right temperament to join as an officer.”

Now it was Gordon’s turn to be surprised. He was grateful to Scott for his support in joining WASP but to hear his brother thought he should be an officer was a step further than he had ever considered. He had been staying silent during the verbal tennis match between Scott and his father, trying his hardest not to inflame the situation. Tensions around the table were escalating. Scott had always deferred to their father previously but his time in the Air Force had him used to being in command and now it was like watching the alpha male and the young contender circling for dominance in the pack. He wondered if the comment was deliberately designed to challenge their father or if Scott really meant it.

“Gordon? An officer? You cannot be serious about that.” There was derision at the mere thought of Gordon taking a role of responsibility.

“I’m perfectly serious. You never saw him at Marineville. You never heard what his assessors said about him. If he hadn’t had to withdraw from selection they were going to offer him a commission, they could see he was wasted in junior ranks and I have to say I agree with them. WASP selection makes the Air Force tests look like a cake walk but Gordon was good out there. If he wants to go into WASP then I for one will support him, it would be nice if you could support him too.”

“I think I know how best to support Gordon and that is in continuing his education, that’s if Gordon is even still eligible for college.” Jeff reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope, it was addressed to Gordon and bore the marks of the California Department of Education. He slid it across the table. “This was in the mailbox downstairs. I was hoping to talk to you about it privately, Gordon, and save you any embarrassment, but seeing as your brother is determined to play a part in your future we may as well discuss this now. I can only assume there has been some error in the awarding of your high school diploma.”

Scott looked at the envelope with some concern. If Gordon really had flunked his diploma then becoming an officer was off the cards and even junior ranks looked doubtful. WASP really could afford to take only the best and this could be a major stumbling block. His younger sibling paused for a moment, trepidation etched across his features, before reaching out and picking up the letter.

“Took them long enough, I’ve been waiting for this.” There was something in his tone that Scott couldn’t quite place; more nervous anticipation than worry.

Gordon slit open the envelope slowly, as if not wanting to see what it contained despite having been expecting it. A single sheet was carefully extracted and it only took Gordon a moment to read the short correspondence.

“Bastards.” The exclamation was spat out as the page was thrown down in disgust.

Whatever reaction Scott and Jeff had been expecting it wasn’t this.

“Gordon, what’s going on?” Scott butted in, cutting off their father from issuing a rebuke for foul language.

“They won’t change the topic.”

“Topic?” Scott looked at his brother in confusion.

“Yeah” Gordon sighed heavily, too exhausted to maintain the mask he normally wore around his father. The anger in his features mixed with pain as the memories resurfaced. “You wouldn’t have had to do this one back in Kansas but California have a unit on Modern American History and Dad here is a compulsory assignment. I wrote and asked them to take it off the curriculum.”

“Why would you try and do that? I know things aren’t great between you two at the moment but surely you don’t want to wipe Dad out the history books.” He tried to place a reassuring hand on Gordon’s forearm but the limb was yanked out of his reach.

“This isn’t about Dad, it’s about ALAN!” Gordon dropped his head into his hands, his elbows slamming painfully against the tabletop. Grief and a sense of failure bubbled up inside him as he hid his face from twin questioning gazes. He hated showing weakness, hated giving his father yet more ammunition to throw back against him, but the memories were too strong to repress.

“What the hell has Alan got to do with this. Seriously Gordo, you aren’t making any sense.” First it was about school, now it was about Alan. Scott felt like he was trying to read a book with half the pages missing. He was sure it made sense somehow but at the moment all he knew was that Gordon was clearly upset and hurting.

Jeff snorted, choosing to ignore the deep breathing as Gordon fought to maintain control. “I dare say your brother will do a better job than you when the time comes. From what I remember of that paper you barely scraped a pass grade. It really says something about your abilities when you can screw up what should have been the easiest assignment of the lot. It’s your own family for goodness sake.”

“Easy?” The blonde head snapped up, locking eyes with his father and channeling the grief into anger. “That was the hardest paper I’ve ever had to write in my life and it’s going to be ten times worse for Alan. At least I wasn’t mentioned by name.”

“Gordon, what’s going on?” The rising flush of emotion to his brother’s cheeks filled Scott with concern.

“The paper, it’s not just about Dad, Mom’s in there too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have the worst moment of your entire life there in the set text for the whole class to see? The avalanche, Mom dying, Alan surviving, it’s all there. They didn’t even have the decency to put it in the main text either, it’s just a footnote like it isn’t really important. Our Mom’s death is a fucking footnote and I didn’t want Alan to have to deal with it like I had to, it’s not like I’ll even be here to help him when the time comes. Ever since Dad decided I was going to be packed off to college I’ve been trying to get it changed.”

“That...that sucks.” Scott couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to face their own personal tragedy in the classroom. What it evidently had been like for Gordon. “But Alan won’t be dealing with it alone, Dad will be here.”

“What, like he was here for me? You and Virgil were better parents than Dad has ever been. He only cares about the bottom line. Make the grade and nothing else matters.” The chair was shoved back angrily.

“Gordon, you should have told me.” Jeff cut in quietly, his face ashen at the sudden reminder of the tragedy that had ripped his wife away forever. That Scott and Virgil were viewed akin to parents by the younger ones rather than just brothers was also a shock. Had he really been so far removed from his family? What else had he been blind to? His eyes tracked backwards and forwards, trying to keep pace with Gordon who was now striding about erratically on the opposite side of the table in a display of energy Jeff suddenly realised had been absent for many weeks.

“I tried to but you weren’t exactly in a listening mood. You were too busy bawling me out for getting suspended.”

“You got suspended?” How much had he missed out on in the last seven years? If Gordon had ever confided this to Virgil his next younger brother had never shared the burden of knowledge. The Gordon he had left behind may have been a bit of a pest at school with the occasional prank or missed homework but nothing that would warrant him getting suspended.

“Guess some of my screw ups Dad didn’t even want to share with the family. Yes Scott, I got suspended. I...well...I got upset in class and some of the others kept going on about it and then one day I snapped. Ended up breaking someone’s nose. The Principal took it off my permanent record though when he found out what it was over. I think he felt sorry for me.”

“So you tried to get the Department of Education to drop the topic.”

“Yes.” Gordon picked up the letter again, a look of disgust crossing his face. “They won’t though. They ‘thank me for my concerns and provide their strongest assurances of the factual accuracy of the text books’. He’s got another year to go yet but when he gets there please look after Alan” this plea was directed straight at their father, “cos I can’t if I’m at college and it’s going to be rough for him.”

Scott found the disgust mirrored in his own features, not just at the Education Board, but also for the actions of their father who had clearly skipped out on the emotional wellbeing side of parenting. Gordon had faced the demons alone and was now doing his level best to protect Alan.

Any further discussions were cut short by the arrival home of that same small, blonde hurricane.

“Scott! When did you get here?” Alan launched himself across the room and draped himself around Scott’s neck, nearly strangling his older brother. The new arrival seemed unperturbed by the obvious tensions around the table and Scott wondered just how normal it had become for the youngest to be surrounded by bad feelings and barely concealed arguments.

“Hey, let a guy breathe.” The clinging arms loosened slightly but weren’t released completely and Scott returned the hug. “C’mon, we’ve finished here. Do you need to eat? Any homework due tomorrow?”

A shake of the blonde head. “You’re as bad as Gordon. What is it with everyone checking up on my homework?”

As bad as Gordon, not as bad as Dad; Scott filed that away for the next time he spoke to Virgil. He had been so happy to be free of the responsibilities of family that he had never really considered who had stepped up to take his place.

“Well if you’re sure you’re good let’s go somewhere more comfortable, you’re pushing me off this chair.”

Jeff watched as Scott unhooked Alan’s arms and led the party through to the lounge. Those were the questions he probably should have been asking as a father but hadn’t thought to. Scott had stepped in first as though checking in on the youngster was the most natural thing in the world.

All traces of the argument were put to one side for the sake of the youngest but the look Scott shot Jeff showed that the discussions were far from over.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #high expectations #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #family arguments #brothers standing together

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damnit-samnit · 6 years ago

Text

Sorry, I deleted the ask after a little technical hiccup!

Also, did not proof this so excuse spelling errors or terrible sentences. I’ll probably fix later.

“Ah, there you are!”

Yagi glanced up to find your head peeking through the door of the staff room, your smile growing at finally finding the lanky blond you had been searching for. His already slow-typing hands stilled and he looked at you with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity — had you been looking for him?

“The birthday boy!” you declared, snapping open the door fully and gliding inside. Immediately, he relaxed (though he turned a bit red around the ears at the attention). “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

You were referencing his abrupt departure earlier at lunch following a quiet phone call. You hadn’t seen him since -- in fact, you hadn’t been sure he was even still in the building. It was well after school dismissal by then and most of the teaching staff had already left to go home or, in some cases, start their night jobs.

But there he was at his desk, All Might, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as you approached.

Your hands were tucked behind your back. You were hiding something.

He pretended not to notice.

“I have a bit of work I have to finish up,” he said. “Grades that Principal Nedzu politely requested that I, ah, upload before the end of today.”

“Well… are you almost done at least? It’s getting kind of late...”

He made a weak sound that caught in his throat as he looked back to the Excel sheet he had been steadily working on. After glancing between the book at his desk and the spreadsheet on his screen, he confirmed that... he hoped he was almost done.

It looked like it...

“If it’s just entering in data I can help…” you said, trying to help.

You were standing behind him, leaning down slightly to glance from behind his shoulder. He could smell your perfume — it was something light. Floral. Perfect for the season.

He cleared his throat.

“It’s fine!” he said. He was smiling when he turned his head toward yours, totally ambivalent of how close you were to him. “Almost done!”

“I’ll wait with you, then!”

He balked at that. Without hesitation he started rambling off reasons why your presence was unnecessary. His polite dismissals of you still stung even though you knew he was trying not to be a bother. You didn’t intend to let your disappointment show on your face — in fact, you didn’t realize you have even made a face until Yagi went stiff and suddenly started to backtrack.

“I got you something…”

His babbling petered out once you said that. His eyes moved from your obviously hidden hands, still out of sight behind your back, and your face. You weren’t really looking at him — you were looking off to the side, scanning over paper notices Ectoplasm and Thirteen had taped to the walls.

“Presents are unnecessary!” Yagi sputtered, holding his hands up as a barrier between the two of you. “I couldn’t accept, I wouldn’t—”

His hand barrier didn’t help in the slightest bit. Instead, it gave you a target to shove the box at. Instinctually his hands clasped closed while you pulled yours away, completely the transaction he had been hoping to avoid.

“I insist. It’s the least I can do. Everyone deserves a present on their birthday.” You shifted awkwardly. “You don’t have to open it now, if you don’t want to…”

He was examining the gift that was wrapped in gold foil, a bright red ribbon on top. Gnarled hands brushed across the top of it.

Bright blue eyes met yours.

“I can’t accept this,” he muttered but made no moves to give it back.

“It’s your birthday ,” you stressed.

A frown rugged at his lips and, to your horror, you watched as he placed it down on the desk and rugged loose the ribbon—

“Oh, you don’t have to open it now!” You said again, suddenly very self conscious. “I don’t want to stand over you—”

“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “I want to thank you properly for…”

He trailed off. Peeling back the wrapping paper revealed a narrow matte black cardboard box.

Inside, folded neatly side-by-side by a discerning eye, were three ties. One was blue with a yellow paisley, one was red with a purple chevron and the last… was yellow and black pinstripe.

You coughed, trying to hide your reddening face as you watched him examine each tie. It was just as awkward as you imagined. When you first purchased the ties, you told yourself you didn’t care if no one else got him a gift — you were just being nice and no one could fault you for that.

At that moment, you felt like an overeager fool.

“This are really nice,” he said, bringing them to his chest and looking at your earnestly.

You went redder.

“They’re beautifully made. And one can’t have too many ties…”

“Oh! If you do have a lot of ties already don’t worry about these!” Before he could respond, you scratched at your nose, coyly looking up at him. “The yellow one reminded me of the suit you used to wear… I miss it.”

Ever since he retired fully, the once loud hero had adopted a more muted personal style that matched his quieter existence. The bright yellow suit that had been a staple All Might outfit had been hung up for good.

He looked back down at the ties.

“I figured I’d buy you something with some All Might pizzazz,” you said and for good measure, shook your hands.

Then, they fell limply at your sides.

“I understand if they’re too obnoxious …”

“They’re perfect,” he stressed. “What a good gift! What a thoughtful gift! I promise to treasure them!”

You were red again, laughing too loudly, strangely mortified and pleased with yourself.

“Well. I’m glad. Don’t worry, it’s okay if you never wear any of them—”

He was already loosening the red tie he was wearing, grabbing for the yellow one. Seconds later, he was turned to you fully in his seat, arms outstretched to better model his updated outfit.

“What do you think?” he asked with a lopsided grin. “Fit for All Might?”

The tie noticeably off center.

Unsure, you lifted your hands and inched toward him. When it was clear he was going to swat your hands away if you touched him, you leaned in and straightened the tie.

There.

You smoothed his collar before patting him on the chest.

“Perfect!” you chirped, grinning as All Might stared, slightly wide eyed. “That’s the All Might I remember.”

He turned his head and couched into his fist, hoping he was disguising the red tinge of his cheeks. Thankfully, you had looked away from him to check the time on his computer.

“Also… there’s a bit of a part two to your birthday surprise.”

“... O-Oh?”

“Save that sheet and let’s go. We’re running late.”

It took a bit to convince Yagi that the grades he had been entering weren’t as time sensitive as he had been told. It had all been a ploy to have him stay later after school, a plan Nedzu had been in on from the start.

He was still in a confused daze as you rushed him to pack his things and led him out the door. Instead of moving down the walkway and toward the eventual train station, you had opened the door of an idling car and were gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you kidnapping me?” he asked weakly, looking at you with wide eyes.

Enamoured, he watched you erupt into a genuine laugh, head shaking as you promised you weren’t trying to kidnap the former number one hero.

“It’s part of your surprise!”

He spent the car ride with his bag on his lap, knees pressing into the back of the seat in front of him while you talked about inane things. You were giddy, though, excited to have had pulled off your part of the plan successfully, unaware that All Might’s eyes were flickering between your face and your hand that was inches away from his in the seat.

The car dropped the two of you off at a restaurant and All Might had a good idea of what awaited him inside. He didn’t get a chance to laugh off the party or weasel away — you had latched onto his wrist.

You were looking back at him, delighted, tugging him along.

He was mesmerized, following along dumbly.

“Surprise!”

The collective shout erupted the moment he entered the front door of the small family noodle shop. He was expecting the surprise but he hadn’t been expecting the size of the crowd. It wasn’t just co-workers waiting for him — there were quite a few students there, too. Immediately his eyes found Midoriya who was seated with several other members of Class 1A.

He gaze also drifted over a table to where Mic was elbowing a dozing Aizawa to attention.

The master of ceremonies, Midnight, stood and took your place at All Might’s side, launching into a birthday spiel about how cared for and adored Yagi was to students, staff and other pro-heroes.

Not knowing what else to do Yagi exploded into a familiar muscle figure who erupted into a loud laugh—

That immediately dissipated seconds later in a coughing fit.

“This is…” He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head at the room. “Thank you. An old man like me doesn’t deserve fanfare like this.”

It took a bit to wrangle everyone back into their seats for dinner to start being served. Yagi mostly bounced from table to table, speaking to and thanking his guests.

Most seemed eager to be there.

You had found a seat at a table on the other side of the restaurant with Thirteen, Snipe, Aizawa and Mic. By the time he reached you, a collection of empty pint glasses littered the tabletop most of the tablets occupants; who had visible faces, were sporting red-cheeks.

“This was allll Midnight’s idea,” Mic said seriously, pointing a finger at Yagi who lifted his hands and laughed nervously. “Because she wasn’t there last year. She said me and Aizawa weren’t good party company.”

You were clicking your tongue and shaking your head when Mic looked to you affronted.

How could Present Mic not be good party company!?

You knew that to be a blatantly false statement. He was great party company!

Yagi wanted to thank you again for not just your gifts but also being involved with at least a part of the surprise party execution.

Well, truthfully he just wanted to find a reason to talk to you.

But you were caught between Mic and Snipe and we’re spreading your attention equally among the two. When it became clear he wasn’t going to get the alone time he had been lowkey craving, he stood and informed your table he was going to go say thanks to the next group.

Eventually, he did get some level of alone time with you. As he was leaving another table, you had stood and made your way to the bathroom. Clearly you had several drinks in your system and were enjoying life — as you passed him you linked an arm with him and grabbed onto it, beaming at him.

“Having fun?” you asked. He let out a quiet chuckle.

“Not as fun as you.”

“We gotta change that then…” you grumbled, looking to wave down someone fun to—

He turned slightly, blocking your line of sight so you were looking at him. He cleared his throat, scratching at his chin. You had reverted to a broad, blissed smile.

“The ties were really nice,” he hummed.

“I’m really glad you liked them. I was nervous giving them to you, I didn’t want to be too much.”

Nervous?

He wanted to bring attention to that — why would you be nervous around him ? Someone was calling All Might’s name. He looked over his shoulder to acknowledge that he was one his way…

But your original quest, to find the bathroom, was becoming more urgent and you unlinked yourself from him.

You caught bright blue eyes again and he watched as you reached up to straighten his crooked tie, again. Thankfully he squatted a bit, allowing you to do so, before you finished off the task with the motions you had performed earlier — smoothing his collar and patting his chest.

You inhaled, pleased.

He watched, still enamored.

Gingerly, his wrapped a hand around your wrist...

You didn’t so much as blink when Present Mic let out a mournful shout when his nearly full drink was accidentally elbowed off the table. But Yagi jumped and whatever little spell you had been feeling… or maybe he was the only one feeling it… was broken.

You were pulling away to walk backward to the bathroom. Someone was still shouting All Might’s name. Mic was still yelling.

You winked at him and despite all the noise vying for his attention, he caught your voice clear as day.

“Happy birthday, baby blues.”

#mywriting

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kumeko · 6 years ago

Text

elevator pitches

Character/Pairing: Kaoru/Kyoya, Tamaki/Kyoya, Haruhi/Kyoya

A/N: Written for the @ohshc-music-room3-zine. Somehow Kyoya ended up being the centerpiece for the fic. You should check out the beautiful artwork that went with my piece.

Summary: Kaoru the rookie detective. Haruhi the upcoming lawyer. Tamaki the procrastinating student. Kyoya’s story interweaved with the others, connecting him whether he liked it or not.

...

I. The Detective

The room was a mess. No, that was an understatement. The room was a disaster zone.

Kaoru shifted the box of papers in his arms as he searched for an empty space to deposit his load. Every free inch of space was occupied with stacks upon stacks of papers and evidence scattered throughout the room. Even the floor was not immune to the mess and he almost danced his way to the table. The place no longer resembled a meeting room in the least.

“Where should I put this?” he finally asked, giving up after a frantic scan revealed there really were no clear spots.

His partner pointed to a box on his left without looking up from the paper he was reading. “On top of that.”

Even his voice was distant and commanding. Kaoru held back a sigh; he had heard that Kyoya was a hard detective to work with but he hadn’t realized just what that meant till now. They’ve been partners for almost a week now and he could count the number of times they had a proper talk on one hand. Kyoya had indicated a tower of boxes, which swayed precariously as Kaoru placed his box atop of it all. Carefully, he adjusted the column to prevent it from toppling. “Anything I should do?”

“Your job,” was the only cutting remark given and really, Kyoya had no intention of helping a rookie out at all. Kaoru bit back a sharp retort; it wouldn’t help him to get the ace detective angry.

Maybe he could go out with Hikaru later and get some drinks. Some strong, stiff drinks.

In the meantime, he might as well see if there was anything left to do. Maneuvering slowly through the room, he started to examine the evidence around him. There were research papers and photographs and something that looked suspiciously like a tutu. Small sticky notes stuck out between pages and perhaps there was more order to this madness than he thought. Even the witness statements were organized in order of most relevant to least.

His partner wasn’t big on social niceties but he was very meticulous. The kind of guy who only paid attention to results. Kaoru could work with that; he had long since learned how to play others like a fiddle and it wouldn’t be too hard to find what makes Kyoya tick. From the documents Kaoru had to recently collect, the majority of them were on the old heritage section of the city. Several old apartments, a theatre, and a series of museums were at the heart of that district. The crime scene was nowhere close to any of those places, but if he overlaid the subway system over the city map, the theatre made a good hideout. With that in mind, he started to gather the witness statements from the theatre troupe and their schedules and performance dates.

He’d gather all of the data and Kyoya would not only be surprised but also impressed. He’d show he was more than a rookie and that he should be taken seriously and—

Kyoya’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Is that Dancing Queen?”

Kaoru snapped his attention towards Kyoya, who was finally looking up from his papers. His glasses were slightly askew, just waiting to be adjusted. A moment of processing and Kaoru used his top-grade detective skills to very articulately answer, “Huh?”

“You were humming,” Kyoya clarified, more patient than he expected.

Kaoru blinked, unconsciously touching his lips. Had he been? Shaking himself out of his stupor, he nodded. “The theatre was performing Mamma Mia the week of the crime.”

“The theatre?” Kyoya lowered his gaze, noticing the documents in Kaoru’s hands. “Why were you looking into them?”

“You’re looking at the old heritage sights and the theatre aligns best with a subway getaway,” Kaoru explained, setting the stack in front of his partner. “I grabbed all of the witness statements and their schedules.”

Silence. All that got him was silence and he started to second guess his actions. He remembered the order to the stacks, the tabbed notes and sticky notes. Maybe he shouldn’t have messed with the system. Hell, maybe he had guessed wrong entirely.

“I’ll put it—”

A hand stopped him from picking up the stack again. “No, it’s fine.” Kyoya was looking at him now, scrutinizing him. There was something deliberate about the way he stared, in how he formed his words. “Kaoru, was it?”

His hand was warm where they touched and he could only nod, not trusting his voice.

“Decent work for your experience level.” Kyoya’s eyes never left his, even as he let go of him and reached for the papers. He was searching for something and Kaoru straightened his back, hoping not to leave him wanting. “I wasn’t expecting you to figure that out.”

Praise? Kaoru stared at Kyoya but the man merely started to flip through the papers, already focused on the next stage of the investigation. His hand was long gone but he could still feel the intensity of his gaze, the heat of his skin. He took back everything he said earlier—he might know how to manipulate others, but this man was a master at it.

Still, he was never one to back down from a challenge, even if he should. Pulling out one of the witness statements, he started to examine it carefully, noting down any clues he found.

Maybe he’d find the criminal before Kyoya. Imagine his surprised face then.

-x-

II. The Businessman

Haruhi pushed the down button. Rolling her shoulders, she looked around the elevator lobby. There was an extravagant feel to it, just like the rest of the building. One side was stained glass doors leading to her employer’s office. On the other, a giant window with a view of the city. A pair of white armchairs with a table between were positioned next to the seat with a complimentary champagne bottle and glasses.

She could not understand the rich. It was a waste of money since she’d seen that bottle get replaced almost hourly depending on the clientele. At the least the view was great.

“Haruhi.”

The voice surprised her and Haruhi snapped her attention back to the office doors, or rather to the man coming out of the doors. It seemed Kyoya did sleep after all.

“Of course I do,” he replied in a deadpan voice. Whoops, she had said that aloud.

Logically, despite being a department head and favourite to be the next CEO, Kyoya was human. And humans did require sleep and food. Looking him over quickly, she noticed that his shirt’s top button was open and his tie loose.

“So even you can relax,” she added and perhaps she shouldn’t have said that one out loud either. Her law teachers had told her once that while her honest streak was admirable, it was a hindrance in the court.

More importantly, a hindrance in life.

He stared at her, mild curiosity painted across his face. “Should a lawyer really say that to their client?”

“Perhaps not,” she admitted, shrugging. The elevator floor number slowly increased. It would not save her from this conversation or anything she said. “But you aren’t retaining me. The company is.”

His brow raised a fraction before his expression settled into a small smirk. “True, but I do have some say on who we employ.”

Haruhi bit her cheek and looked away. Now she was playing with fire and since this was her first job after law school, she wasn’t keen on losing it so quickly. Quietly, she murmured, “Right.”

“I’ve never seen anyone make so many blunders in a single conversation before. And it’s been,” Kyoya’s gaze flickered to his watch. “Only two minutes since we started talking.”

She wasn’t quite sure if he wanted an apology or not. The amused look in his eyes said otherwise, even if his words were cutting. “Two minutes is a long time—the elevator hasn’t even made it to our floor.”

“Were you timing the elevator?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Just since you—”

Luckily, the elevator dinged as its doors opened, interrupting her before she could finish, and she gratefully stepped inside. Only to have him follow immediately after. Any awkwardness they had outside was compounded by the small room. He neatly settled in next to her, barely a hair length away. Kyoya pressed the button for the fifth floor and she looked at him, impressed. “And I thought I had no life.”

He raised an eyebrow and she resisted the urge to cover her mouth. Playing with fire. Right. She really needed to learn control. Fortunately, he left it alone with a single snipe. “I suppose you don’t.”

There was little she could say against that.

After a moment he added,“Considering our latest lawsuit, I need to double check our records.”

“Oh. I should join you then.” Haruhi suppressed a sigh; there went her chance to finally get home at a reasonable time. She didn’t have to look at her wristwatch to know it was past eight. “There were a few things I wanted to check.”

“A hard worker, huh?” Kyoya shifted slightly, his gaze inscrutable. “I was right to hire you.”

That surprised her. “You were part of the—” Her stomach grumbled and Haruhi flushed a deep red. She stared steadfast at the door. “Ignore that.”

“Was that—”

“Don’t ask,” she repeated forcefully.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the bastard repressing a laugh. It seemed every part of her was honest, even her stomach. Maybe the other lawyers were right.

“I guess it is dinner time.” Kyoya pulled out his phone, typing out a text. “I’ll have something delivered.”

She rummaged through her purse. “I should have some cash on me.”

Still focused on his phone, he dismissed the idea entirely. “Not needed.”

“I can pay for my share.”

“You’re not staying. I’m not paying the extra hours.” Kyoya glanced at her. “Besides, you’ll burn yourself out if you keep staying so late.”

Haruhi stared at him. The elevator music filled the silence, the sound of Dancing Queen softly filling the room. The cheerful song did little to alleviate the tension.

Turning back to his phone, he amended, “It’s a little late in the case to hire a new lawyer.”

The clarification sounded about right. Deflated, she looked back to the doors. “I think you’ll overwork yourself first.”

“Not a chance.” Kyoya straightened his collar and closed his top button. While soft, his voice was firm and adamant. “Not at this stage.”

Ambition. She had expected the goal but not quite the passion behind it. Then again, considering how often she saw his office light on after hours, maybe she should have expected it. People never pushed that hard without something fueling them on.

“Famous last words,” she muttered and he scoffed. It wasn’t quite a laugh but it spooked her all the same.

“Do you think so?” He turned to her and she stared, transfixed. There was something predatory in his gaze, in his smile. A thousand deals were closed on this expression alone. “Want to make a bet?”

Haruhi swallowed. She had seen enough people fail against him to know her chances of victory. “I…”

The elevator dinged all too soon and Kyoya stepped forward. His hand brushed against hers as he passed. “Maybe next time then.”

“Yeah.” Oddly enough, she looked forward to it.

-x-

III. The Student

“Stop.” Kyoya looked up from the textbook, shooting Tamaki a glare. He had agreed to bring out the kotatsu for a single reason: he’d be left alone long enough to finish studying for his entrance exams.

Usually, that was a non-issue. The second the kotatsu was out, Tamaki would burrow into it and promptly lose the will to do anything else. For once, the idiot’s lunacy surpassed the kotatsu’s powers, leading him to narrate a series of stories. A series of stories that, for some reason, involved Kyoya.

“Huh?” Tamaki cocked his head, confused. “Why?”

Kyoya rubbed his brow. Only the idiot could stare at all the textbooks and ask that question. “I’m studying. What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you study!” Tamaki beamed from across the table, his chin on his hands. Every part of him was vibrating and he seemed to dance as he leaned left and right repeatedly. “These are potential 'what-ifs’! Think of the future you could have!”

“The future I could have?” Kyoya repeated, not following his thought process.

“Well, once you’re in university you can become anything, right? And meet new people. So you could be a cop or you could take over your father’s hospital or—” Tamaki rattled off implausible scenario after implausible scenario.

Honestly, he should have expected this. At least he stopped him after that second story, the laundry list of clichés was getting tiresome. Closing his book, he gave his friend a deadpan stare. “I already know Haruhi and Kaoru.”

“Well, I’m using them as stand-ins. It could be anyone else.” Undeterred, Tamaki reached for an orange on the table and slowly peeled it. “It’s just possibilities.”

“The romance scenarios?” he prodded, calculating exactly what damages Tamaki would owe him. Should he punish him? Not that it would stop Tamaki from pulling this again. Nothing could really stop him when he went wild.

“Well, everyone likes a good romance story.” Tamaki said dramatically before he hugged himself, flinging his head back as he plopped on the ground. “The drama, the love, how it moves the soul!” His hand reached for the ceiling.

Kyoya sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The punishment it was then. “And if Haruhi or Kaoru heard that?”

Tamaki froze. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, barely blinking, before sitting up. He leaned forward. Quietly, “Don’t tell them.”

“Is that an order?” Kyoya raised a brow and Tamaki balked.

“Please don’t tell them?” He rested his chin on the table, staring at him imploringly. His eyes were wide and watery and Kyoya could sense a headache coming up. A hand reached out to grip his. “I’ll do anything.”

Kyoya stared at Tamaki’s hand before sighing and relenting. Gripping it back, he gave him a stern look. “Then these stories will...?”

“Immediately stop, I promise.” Tamaki shook his head quickly. Beaming, he withdrew and split his peeled orange. Plopping a slice in his mouth, he moaned happily. “The best food for a kotatsu. Want one?”

“Pass.” Kyoya opened his book once more. There were only a few hours left in the day and he really wanted to get to the fifth chapter before bedtime. Before he could read more than a few lines, an orange slice was waved in front of his mouth.

“Just one?” Tamaki offered.

It was sometimes easier to just accept it than to fight it. Relenting, he opened his mouth. Tamaki’s smile broadened. As promised, he returned back to his own interests, creating small flowers out of the peels. Under his breath, he hummed softly. A familiar song Kyoya had heard three times today now.

“That song... you really like it, don’t you?” Kyoya commented offhandedly as he skimmed a page.

Under the kotatsu, Tamaki’s feet started to dance. Every part of him bobbed to an invisible beat. He cocked his head. “What makes you say that?”

Of course the idiot wouldn’t notice. “It was in every one of your stories.”

“Ohhh! You’re like a detective! And you were paying attention!” Tamaki glowed. If it were possible to bounce while sitting, he did so. “Oh, what if you were a detective and Mori was your assistant—”

“Tamaki.”

“Right, right, I promised.” He went back to eating, still humming the tune. “I’ll keep quiet, like a spy.”

Kyoya sighed and started to count down to next outburst. It was impossible to stop Tamaki when he was into something. Still, he hadn’t delivered his punishment. Offhandedly, he casually added, “We are not going to see Mamma Mia.”

Tamaki froze, his humming instantly cut off. Pale, he opened and closed his mouth silently.

Ah, if he knew that was what it took, Kyoya would have said it hours ago.

#ouran host club #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootari #haruhi fujioka #kaoru hitachiin #fanfic

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tonystarkbingo · 6 years ago

Photo

Week 5 Roundup! Keep reading to see the spectacular stuff everyone got up to this past week!

Title: Not Your Damsels In Distress Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: T2 - Damsels (and others) In Distress Ship: FrostIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: not Team Cap friendly, not IW compliant Summary: The Rogues make a very, very, very big mistake when they decide to crash a certain girls' day out. Word Count: 719

Title: this undoing of the first end Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: A4 - Skrulls! Ship: Bucky/Steve/Tony/T’Challa Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content, dubious consent due to identity issues, PTSD, implied/referenced child abuse Summary: “Sir?” “Yeah, JARVIS?” Tony mumbles, skewering his screwdriver through the gauntlet. “It appears that Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes and King T’Challa have returned,” JARVIS informs him. Tony jumps out of his chair. “Well, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “I told you the moment they arrived!” JARVIS argues. “Not soon enough,” Tony huffs. “I believe it is time to form a union, sir,” JARVIS snipes. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby.” “I simply cannot work in these conditions,” JARVIS sighs, exasperated. “Baby,” Tony sings, as the elevator doors close around him. Word Count: 10347

Title: Flutter Collaborator: mortenavida Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - flutter Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: No powers AU, meet-cute Summary: It's couples night at the drive-in, but Tony shows up alone (as he always does). They won't let him in without a partner, but before he could drive away upset, a stranger hops into his car and says, "Hey babe, sorry I'm late." Tony rolls with it. Word Count: 859

Title: From Russia with Purrs Collaborator: tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: A2 - free square Ship: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker Rating: Gen Major Tags: cat sitting, friendship Summary: Spider-Man doesn’t always get called in to help with the Avengers stuff, but when Peter is given a special, urgent mission from the Winter Soldier, he needs to call in backup Word Count: 2505

Title: Memory Lane Collaborator: buying_the_space_farm Link: AO3 Square Filled: R5 - Kink: Mind Controlled Sex Ship: FrostIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content, sexual roleplay, consensual nonconsent, BDSM, rough sex Summary: The past cannot be changed. But with a little roleplay, overwriting haunting memories can be easier than it seems. Word Count: 3269

Title: I would've bought you dinner first Collaborator: Bill_Longbow Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Kink: pornstar/rentboy/sexworker Ship: Stony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: No Powers AU, pornstars, explicit sexual content, fluff, meet cute Summary: Steve meets Tony on the set of a porno movie. A porno movie meet cute. Word Count: 2131

Title: It's Not The Perfume that You Wear Collaborator: chase_acow Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - kink: crossdressing Ship: Tony Stark/Sam Wilson Rating: Teen Major Tags: crossdressing Summary: "I've been waiting for someone to wander by," Tony said, flippantly gesturing over his shoulder as if Sam wasn't standing a foot away having a midlife crisis. "Zip me up, would you?" Word Count: 2084

Title: Trying to be the hero (like always) - Chapter 2 Collaborator: alexisriversong Link: AO3 Square Filled: T5 - puzzle Ship: Stuckony Rating: Mature Major Tags: polyamory, angst, fix-it Summary: So... This got longer than I thought... This is literally a full chapter in wich Tony is in a coma... Word Count: 4255

Collaborator: famedglory Link: Pillowfort Square Filled: R4 - Asgard Ship: None Rating: Gen Major Tags: art, Tony Stark, Heimdall Summary: I can't see Tony visiting Asgard and not asking this.

Title: Lost Boy Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: S5 - Edwin Jarvis Ship: None Rating: Gen Major Tags: canon character death Summary: After the funeral of his former employers, Edwin Jarvis comforts their son, Tony Stark. Word Count: 751

Title: You're Just What I Needed Collaborator: chase_acow Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 Costume Porn Ship: Tony Stark/Sam Wilson Rating: Teen Major Tags: costume kink Summary: "Uh, believe it or not," Tony said, having to clear his throat when it threatened to close over the delicious things Sam was doing with his tongue to Tony's neck. "I actually need your help down in the workshop, not a quickie before dinner." Word Count: 1801

Title: we were written in the stars you and i Collaborator: Sbiderslut Link: A03 Square Filled: K5 Ancient Civilizations Ship: Tony Stark/Peter Parker Rating: M Major Tags: Major Character Death Summary: Swept up in Mnemosyne’s current, Tony Stark and Peter Parker remember their past lives. Word Count: 2381

Title: [Podfic] take my hand, take my whole life too Collaborator: only_more_podfucs (only_more_love) Link: AO3 Square Filled: Square K4: Never meant to hurt you Ship: Stony Rating: Gen Major Tags: asexuality, fluff, podfic Summary: Podfic for take my hand, take my whole life too," by FreyaS. "Tony stands in front of the mirror and nervously adjusts the cuffs of his bespoke suit. He fiddles with the cufflinks shaped like the atoms of the element he created (a present from Rhodey for his forty-something birthday) and tries to breathe in slowly and calm his nerves. This is his fifth and probably last date with Steve and he wants to commemorate the moment with his most polished look. The suit is his armor and it’ll carry him through to the bitter end."

Title: Damsels Lacking In Distress Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: A3 - free space Ship: FrostIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: not Team Cap friendly Summary: You asked for it, my muses decide to play ball - What happened to the ladies in Not Your Damsels In Distress. You probably should read that one before this. Word Count: 1884

Title: John Wick AU Collaborator: feignedsobriquet Link: Tumblr Square Filled: S1 - revenge Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: art, guns Summary: The Winter Soldier is on the run, but even he is aware of the rumours in the underground about the Continental Hotel. Anthony Edward Stark went missing, presumed dead shortly after the deaths of his parents but Antonio Carbonell is the Sommelier at the Continental. They might just end up being each other’s best chance for revenge..

Title: Happy Feet Collaborator: calmena Link: AO3 Square Filled: T3 - Magic Ship: Tony Stark and Loki Rating: Teen Major Tags: magic Summary: Tony didn't expect to end up on Jotunheim. He also didn't expect Loptr, or to be turned into a penguin, but what can you do. Word Count: 1311

Collaborator: lbibliophile-mcu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R1 - Canon MCU (Pre-CA:CW) Ship: Pepperony Rating: Gen Major Tags: gifset, PTS Summary: gifset of Tony's PTSD and relationship with Pepper

Title: S1 & A5-Frozen Together - Chapter One Collaborator: Thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - Loki Ship: Stony Rating: Teen Major Tags: huddling for warmth, there’s only one bed Summary: Thwarting Loki's latest attempt at world domination leaves two Avengers stranded in a frozen wasteland. Word Count: 1363

Title: Let’s be Together Collaborator: Alexisriversong Link A03 Square Filled A3 Freesquare Ship: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: M Major Tags: Age gap, non explicit sex, drunken confessions Summary: Peter loves Tony, he tells him and then runs away and gets drunk because he thoght he had no chance. It’s not exactly like that. They both have issues but they can face them together. Word Count: 1359

Title: T2 Maria Hill Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: T2 - Maria Hill Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: panick attacks, PTSD, mock battle Summary: Maria misses the days when she got her hands dirty on a regular basis. That was the good part about being a regular field agent. She knows she's more valuable where she is now, working at such a high level for Stark, but she does miss it. So, she'll watch the agents train sometimes. It's enough, just to observe quietly. It keeps the itch under her skin at bay. Word Count: 2226

Title: The Kids are All Right Collaborator: 27dragons Link: AO3 Square Filled: A2 - Next Generation Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Dad!Tony, pranks Summary: The kids are going to drive Tony mad, he’s sure of it. Or, three times Tony despaired of the next generation, and one time he didn’t. Word Count: 2520

Title: Gladiator - Chapter One Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: A4 - Ancient Civilization AU Ship: none Rating: Explicit Major Tags: blood, violence, gore, canonical character death, slavery, gladiator AU Summary: “Remove your helmet,” Anthony orders. James hesitates for a moment. He was arrested for Rumlow's lie that he'd murdered the emperor's parents. He hadn't, of course, but that didn't seem to matter much. Rumlow was close to the Praetor, and he'd said James did it, so James had been arrested. He'd expected to be executed, but then Rumlow had fucking sold him into slavery instead. He's only glad he wasn't executed now, because it gave him the chance to get his revenge. Word Count: 2802

Title: Gladiator - Chapter Two Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: T4 - Slave fic Ship: none Rating: Explicit Major Tags: blood, violence, gore, canonical character death, slavery, gladiator AU Summary: “Remove your helmet,” Anthony orders. James hesitates for a moment. He was arrested for Rumlow's lie that he'd murdered the emperor's parents. He hadn't, of course, but that didn't seem to matter much. Rumlow was close to the Praetor, and he'd said James did it, so James had been arrested. He'd expected to be executed, but then Rumlow had fucking sold him into slavery instead. He's only glad he wasn't executed now, because it gave him the chance to get his revenge. Word Count: 2802

Title: Last Chance Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - last chance Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Dark Tony, memory suppressing machine/The Chair, assassination Summary: “Last chance, Rogers,” Tony said, holding out a newly printed copy of the amended accords...“No, Tony,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I can't sign something like that. I don't agree with it.” Word Count: 2790

Title: Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Picture of Stark Industries Ship: none Rating: Mature Major Tags: Full Metal Alchemist, fusion AU, human transmutation Summary: “Heard you fixed automail.” “Best in the East,” Tony said, not a bit arrogant. He knew he was good at what he did, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. Word Count: 3534

Title: Resolve Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - Resolve Ship: WinterIron, Stuckony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: suicide, temporary character death Summary: God, Tony could go for a drink. He just wanted to resolve all this shit and go home. But it wasn't that simple. It never was. Word Count: 11375

Title: It must be a Friday - Chapter Two Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5- Royalty Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Brooklynn Nine-Nine AU, past alcoholism Summary: Spiderman gets arrested while chasing down a thief, but he winds up outside of Queens and in Brooklyn... and he gets picked up by the 99. Word Count: 4685

Title: Morgan Stark - Chapter 4 Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: T5 - Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier Ship: WinterIron, Pepperony Rating: Mature Major Tags: AU, PTSD, cheating Summary: Tony wakes up and finds himself trapped in another reality that sort of reminds him of the freakin’ Matrix. He’s married to Pepper and has a kid in this universe? What even is this? But it turns out that everything isn’t sunshine and roses in this reality. He still loves Morgan, though, and isn’t that odd? He’d never wanted a kid before... Word Count: 12935

Title: Dealer’s Choice Collaborator: summerpipedream Link: Tumblr Square Filled: S2 - Tony/Jan (Picture) Ship: Tony Stark/Janet Van Dyne Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: “So, are you in or are you out?” Tony rolled his eyes, “What, start an underground, very illegal, gambling ring to pay off our large mountains of student debt? That at the very minimum we’d get expelled before getting tossed in jail?” “Only if we get caught. Which we won’t if you help me.” Tony scowled. “You’re lucky I wouldn’t let you do this without me. Of course I’m in.” Cut off from their families’ fortunes, Tony and Jan work together to start a student underground gambling ring to pay off all their student debts. Juggling courses, group projects and papers, can Tony and Jan tip the odds in their favour?

Title: Confessions Collaborator: anthonystarhk Link: AO3 Square Filled: T2- Confessions Under the Influence Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Tony and Wanda have issues Summary: During training Wanda digs a little too far into Steve's mind and uncovers one horrifying secret about the Winter Soldier and Howard and Maria Stark. Unable to believe her Captain would keep such a secret she tells Tony Stark. Many nights later she and Tony have confessional with each other. Word Count: 1592

Title: Fuel Collaborator: NastyBambino Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Alcoholism Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, moodboard Summary: Tony drowns his sorrows in as much alcohol that his body can handle (and sometimes as much as it can’t).

Title: Unexpected Sights Collaborator: mortenavida Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 - witness Ship: Tony Stark/Mystery Man Rating: Explicit Major Tags: no powers AU, middle school AU, first person, explicit sexual content, voyeurism Summary: There's someone in the back of the library office and I go to inspect it. I didn't expect to see two men in the middle of getting their rocks off, but that's what I came across. I should have kicked them out. I watched instead. Word Count: 814

#tonystarkbingo #tonystarkbingo2019 #weekly roundup #week 5 roundup

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jeaneybean · 6 years ago

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The group zones in as they left it two or three weeks ago: Six wolves around the caravan, and three werewolves in the woods around them. They catcall to the group, Vera catcalls right back with a 'Oh, from the way you guys were talking to me last night I knew you wanted a taste, but not this way." The werewolf, Jack, snipes back, Vera calls him a puppy, werewolf 2, Russel, is like 'oh ffs can we not do this.'

So we roll for intitave, with Oz leaning over to tap Vera and give her an inititive boost. Before they can take their first turns, the necklace glows and out pops Magnolia, Jake, and Anya- with a baby. Jake hits a wolf with magic missile and it goes scurriyng into the woods. Wolves attack, get a bite in on Jake. Three wolves don't hit, Jack goes for Nitahn, Russel goes for Oz on top of the caravan. Both miss, and Nitahn climbs across the wagon to rage out and protect the baby. Vera slips into his spot and screams while bodily throwing herself at the werewolf after going on a rant about how she tried to play things nice and all these monsters. Whatever the werewolf was expecting was not Vera snarling and going for him.

Magnolia, our golden girl, casts calm animal and three of the four wolves at the front of the cart calm the fuck down and sit down. Oz gets wolf #4 with color explosion that stuns him for four rounds. Wolf 4 at the head of the cart goes for Vera to flank her after turning into it's hybrid form. Nitahn, with his silver rings, punches the werewolf to the back and crits. Magnolia smashes the werewolf in the face with her silver staff and crits, smashing out some of his teeth. Werewolf 3 (Terry) yells to his friends 'The fuckers got silver weapons.' He doesn't get out much more than that, because Anya sneak attacks him for enough damage to put the arrow through his eye, damage resist or not. He falls forward and Bramble the donkey is like 'Man fuck ths, I seen worse this week.'

Jake strikes at Russel and misses, while Jack tries chomp Vera and Russel goes after Jake. He misses with his bite and one claw, but catches him with the second. Vera breaks her pin to get her silver sword out and smashed him with a smite evil. Oz tries to hit Russel with a glitter spell but fails leaving that side of the cart fabulous. Anya climbed into the cart with her baby.

Jack bites Vera's ankle and tries to trip her but fails, and Vera hits him again. Magnolia goes around the cart to head for Jack. Nitahn starts heading the other way. Oz tells Russel 'What was the first thing the werewolf ate after going to the dentist? The dentist.' And cast hideous laughter on him, causing him to fall to the ground. Jake moves to coup de grax him. Jack decides to go defensive and heads under the cart, provoking an attack of opportunity from Vera who crits and almost chops him in twain but breaks his back for sure.

A wolf runs out from the woods and goes into Nitahn, who gets a bite and Nitahn bites him the fuck back bringing the wolf to zero HP because it was the same wolf that Jake hit earlier. Magnolia and Vera both head towards the back of the wagon in time for Jake to coup de grax Russel. He also goes to take care of the wolf that Oz stunned.

From the woods another wolf comes out and slams into Nitahn, who gets bitten and passes his first fortitude saving throw. Vera goes around the corner and tries to get between Nitahn and the wolf to protect him from any other bites. The wolf doesn't go for it and goes for Nitahn, biting him again and this one he does not pass the saving throw. Nitahn dogpiles on him, with Vera joining the grapple. Magnolia tries to hit into the dogpile, hitting Vera but not doing any damage.

Oz on the top of the wagon can hear, and later see, a group of werewolves just waiting in the distance. Like, a lot of them. He warns the group, and jake joins the dogpile. Vera rolls to pin, pins, and Jake and Nitahn break grapple to grab onto the wolf's upper and lower jaws (that have Vera's arm in between them) and rip it's head in half.

Vera looks at Nitahn's bloody throat and yells as loud as she can 'FUCK', because she was right there. She was right there and she's immune to lycanthropy and she couldn't protect him. So when Oz remakarks that the werewolves are getting closer and Vera starts walking towards them while screaming insults at them. Magnolia and Vera have the most pathetic strength check (vera's 2 vs Magnolia's 5) to keep her from running at them. Nitahn calmly starts walking towards the werewolves.

The lead werewolf calls out to them that they've earned their pathway and Vera screams back at them. Wolves are starting to get pissed and try to intimidate both Vera and Nitahn, who are not at all intimidated.

Anya casts darkness between the wolves and the party, cutting them off. Vera gets one last shriek out, something to the like of 'If the bloodline of the Tel Mortev's is so weak the Von Rothrines will roll over the north!' The werewolf replies something that I don't remember, but Vera yells back 'You're welcome!' Magnolia ask Vera if she'll set the bodies on fire, and as soon as the cart moves on she sets the bodies on fire. Nitahn picks up the wolf he knocked to ZeroHp and puts it on the wagon with him. This kicks Vera out of shotgun, so she heads to the back to sit with Magnolia where she has a little breakdown, a tiny little one, because she'd been right there.

They head forward and eventually cross out of Tel Mortev territory into Carneithel territory and go to the one village and it's weird. The people are curious, but there's none of the hostility, none of the 'oh what are these assholes bringing to our village' feel. Nitahn gets them to the inn and they stop, securing beds and baths for the night. Vera goes up to Nitahn and lays on hands and apologizes to him for not being better. Jake goes into the bar to get milk for the baby and Anya locks herself in the cart.

They head into the bar, talking to the innkeper who tells them about the lady in the castle. After a bit of talking a runner is sent to ask for an audience, from Vera Medvedeva and party. Vera also gives Nitahn her flask to drink because he's had a day. She takes time to go over Oz's contract, which for being from Spee it's very simple and broken by either the sorcerer's death or his mistretment of Oz. It's also very simple for him being sent over all the way from spee.

After Magnolia takes her bath Vera takes one, and Jake gets Anya caught up on what's happened since she left, with Oz hanging around for exposition since he was around for none of this.

After bathtime Vera runs past Anya in the hall and is like 'oh, you have a child.' 'Yes.' 'Hnnn goodbye.' Because Vera doesn't like children. Vera tells the party she'sgoing to the chapel and heads to the chapel with Magnolia to pray, because with how angry she was she felt the need for more prayers of forgiveness. The chapel is unstaffed but well kept, no shrine to the more violent gods (Though there was one to Mal).

The next day they get up and are informed that the Lady wants to meet with them. So they wake everyone up and head up to the castle which is straight up some cinderella castle bullshit. It's staffed by the people from the villiage who do their best, but it's clear that they don't do this often; the lady doesn't get guests.

This whole time like, everyone is expecting the worst. All of our insight checks have came up clean, no one is evil, everything seems cool and so obviously we are expecting the worst. The castle, while beautiful, is a bit cobwebby. Near the entrance is a large mirror that reflects the party and all the staff as they enter (Which they all look to make sure there are reflections).

There's some guff about bags and handing them over, Vera glossing thins over with the staff while like, everyone else is being super suspicious. Nitahn is extra suspicious because no one is polite to travelers, no one grants them room like this and no one is respectful.

There's more guff about handing over their weapons to which Vera does without question because obviously a poweful vampire isn't going to want them armed (She'd also warned Nitahn that if she goes silent for six seconds after the vampire comes down not to let her fall on her ass. As the other party members argue, the Lady of the house calls down that it's fine.

She's super tall, super beautiful, super grey elf. She walks down through the sunlight beaming in the windows and walks to the mirror where she casts a reflection. As she walks down, she says something to the like of 'I could not beleive that after all these years, Vera Medvedeva comes back to call.'

Vera: -i done fucked up face-

The Lady is like 'You look just like her, you have her eyes. She must be your... Grandmother?' 'Great-Grandmother, actually.' Vera says, still very much like 'o i fucked uuuup' They make a bit of small talk with the Lady asking if she likes tea and saying that they'll have to talk.

She goes down the party and talks with each one, being kind and generous with everyone. She tries to make everyone relax and is just super good, so obviously everyone is suspicious (except Vera who is very much like 'i done fucked uuuuup')

They're taken to their rooms (boys and girls separated) and Anya finds a secret door in her room. She goes to magnolia's, finds another. They head out to find the boys and tell them.

Oz is in the library where the Lady also is, and he gets real embarrassed because she's beautiful. Jake and Nitahn find him there because he's a nerd and tell him about the hidden doors, to which Oz is like 'well yeah castles typically do' -cue 20 minute rant on artecture- (And Vera's response to Anya telling her was 'Rich people don't like to see servants')

The gong goes off for dinner and they're told to dress for dinner. Magnolia gets a pantsuit since nothing will fit her. Nitahn wears his nice peformer's outfit, Anya has a lovely elven dress, as does Jake. Oz has fine shirt and pants but wears his coat since Mommy made it. Vera has a lovely black silk dress that fits her very well, suspiciuosly well. (Grandmama left it behind apparently) (this means grandmama also was titless as hell)

The scene ends with the entering the great hall that's been set out for them, the table lavishly decorated with food and bowls of grapes.

Next epiode: A new years specialwhere Vera's probably going ot tell everyone in the party her backstory because she's going to be like 'I am not lying to this terrifying beautiful woman'

#The idiots do a adventure

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this-darkness-light · 7 years ago

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Barnyard

Pairing: Sam/Castiel, implied Dean/Lucifer Rating: Gen Summary: Dean comes to Sam and Castiel with a very odd request. Word Count: 1,988 Warnings: none Tags: humor, borderline crack, farm au, I know nothing about farming, or chickens, please forgive me real farmers of the world

Written for the SPN AU/Trope Bingo Challenge.

Prompt filled: Farm!AU

Read on AO3!

Technically a companion piece to Cock-A-Doodle-Doo, but can be read alone.

Tagging: @brieflymaximumprincess @spnaubingo (I think this is the right URL for the challenge; please let me know if I’m wrong!)

-.-.-.-.-

Sam’s kneeling in the dry, crumbly soil of the cornfield, troubleshooting the drip irrigation system when the guttural grumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel beneath heavy tires draw his attention from his work. He’d know the sound of that engine anywhere. It’s a very distinctive sound. Swiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he gets to his feet, wondering what Dean could want at — he glances up at the sky, shading his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun — four o’clock in the afternoon? Ish? He’s still practicing telling time by the sun’s position in the sky, but a sneak peek at his watch tells him he’s right on target.

Dean parks the Impala in front of the barn, a cloud of dust billowing behind the muscle car as it comes to a stop. Tucking his hands loosely in his jeans pockets, Sam saunters over, careful not to smoosh any of the tiny green sprouts pushing their way through the dry clods. “Hey, Dean,” he calls out as Dean hops out of the car and slams the door with a heavy thud. “What’s up?”

“Howdy, pardner.” Sam meets Dean’s shit-eating grin with a tight-lipped smile. That joke was old the first time his brother used it. Three years he’s been running this little organic farm with his husband, and Dean still isn’t through with the redneck farmer shtick. Sam, though, is one hundred percent done.

“What’s up?” he asks again, coming to a stop on the edge of the field. “Kinda busy right now.”

Dean waves a hand like he’s swatting away flies. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Grimacing, he swipes a hand down his face, shifting his weight from foot to foot, then grunts. “All right. Listen, I need to borrow a chicken.”

Sam jerks his head back and squints at his older brother. That’s honestly the last thing he expected Dean to want. “A…a chicken? Like, a live chicken?” he asks just as the barn door creaks open. Castiel pokes his head through the crack, a bit of hay stuck in his dark hair, but as usual he seems oblivious.

“Hello, Dean,” he says somberly, like he’s welcoming his brother-in-law to a funeral and not their humble little farm. “I thought I heard your car. Is there something Sam and I can help you with?”

“He wants to borrow a chicken,” Sam says before Dean can answer.

Dean nods and grins, back to his usual I’m-so-awesome routine. “Just for the next day or so.”

Castiel tilts his head and stares at Sam. Sam just shrugs and holds up his palms. Hell if he knows what Dean’s on about.

Apparently deciding that this conversation is worth abandoning his chores in the barn, Castiel slips outside and ambles over to Sam, casually slipping an arm around his waist. “And why do you need to…borrow a chicken, Dean?” he asks evenly, for all the world like family members dropping by to borrow livestock is a normal, everyday occurrence.

Dean swipes his tongue along his upper teeth, making his lip bulge, then huffs. “Okay, look. I…kinda got myself into a situation at work.” Sam’s brows arch up at that. What kind of situation could a kindergarten teacher get into that would require a chicken?

When Dean doesn’t elaborate, Sam makes a give-me-more gesture. Deans just scuffs his fancy school shoes in the dirt and admires his socks. Sam shares another glance with Castiel, then clears his throat. “Look man, we aren’t giving you one of our chickens unless you tell us why you need it.”

Dean fidgets in place and fixes his gaze on Sam’s chin. “Aww, c’mon Sammy,” he tries. “It’s just one chicken.”

“Why do you need it, Dean?” Castiel asks, giving Sam’s side a squeeze. Sam gives him a small smile, thanking him for having his back even in something as small as this.

Dean fidgets some more, biting his lower lip, then grunts. Hands curling into fists at his sides, he finally looks them (or at least Sam) in the eye. “Okay, fine. I was…talking with Nick during recess and his kid interrupted us and heard something he shouldn’t have.”

Sam cocks a brow. “Dude. Could you be any more vague?” he asks sarcastically, ignoring the thing about Nick. He’s hassled and nagged Dean about making out with his boyfriend in the classroom, but all his warnings have fallen on deaf ears. Looks like karma’s come and kicked Dean in the ass though, which Sam can’t help but feel a little smug about.

Dean groans and throws up his hands. “Look man, just give me the goddamn chicken, okay? I promise I’ll bring it back tomorrow afternoon in the same condition you gave it to me.”

Castiel rubs the knuckles of his free hands under his chin and glances up at Sam, head slightly tilted. Should we indulge him? his gaze asks, leaving the final decision to Sam.

Sam presses his lips together in a small grimace. On the one hand, Dean is being awfully sketchy on why he wants to borrow one of their animals. On the other, it’s not like Dean to actually hurt an animal (unless he’s eating it for dinner, in which case it’s already dead, so).

After a moment’s consideration he decides, what the hell? and gives a short nod. “Any particular chicken you want?”

Dean slumps in relief, knees buckling, then catches himself and plasters the cocky grin back on his face. “You won’t regret it, Sammy,” he says. “Promise I won’t harm a feather on its head.”

Sam motions for him to follow them and leads them around the back of the barn where the free range chickens are pecking at the seed he scattered for them earlier this morning. The big gray and white rooster, Zachariah, struts around the yard, making a tok-tok-tok sound every time he finds a fresh pile of food, but the hens ignore him. They’ve found some already.

Dean immediately points at the rooster. “That one.”

Sam and Castiel share yet another look. Zachariah isn’t exactly friendly to anyone, even them. Sam’s the only one who can get near him without getting pecked to death. The one time Castiel tried to collect eggs from the hens, Zachariah chased him around the yard, cawing and nipping at his heels. He only escaped when Sam ran outside and threw a handful of chicken feed in the opposite direction, distracting Zachariah.

Wetting his lips, Castiel takes a hesitant step forward. “I’m not sure that’s a wise decision, Dean. Perhaps one of the females?” He points to a cluster of brown and white hens sharing some seed, clucking softly to each other as they feed.

Dean’s shaking his head before Castiel is even done talking. “Nah, man, it has to be a rooster. That the only one you got?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam says. Castiel’s eye are glued on Zachariah, warily watching every step the bird takes. Having mercy on his husband, Sam clasps him on the shoulder.

“I’ll take it from here, babe,” he murmers. “Could you do me a huge favor though and get one of the dog crates and fill it with some hay for me?”

Smiling gratefully up at Sam, Castiel gives a small nod. “Absolutely, Sam. I will be right back.” With a peck on the cheek for Sam and a wave to Dean, Castiel heads back toward the barn.

Dean waves back, looking confused. “Hey, where’s Cas going?”

“Getting a crate,” Sam replies absently, psyching himself up to go snatch Zachariah. Just because the bird tolerates him doesn’t mean this is gonna be easy.

“A crate? Why?”

Sam throws him a bitch face. “You really think a rooster’s just gonna sit on the car seat like a dog?”

Dean makes a fair-enough face, and Sam turns back to the task at hand. Okay. If he can separate the rooster from the hens, he might be easier to catch. Might be less aggressive too, if he doesn’t think he needs to defend his flock. Absently rubbing his fingers together, Sam waits and watches, then sucks in a deep breath and darts forward.

Zachariah zigs left and darts for a small copse trees just as Sam’s fingertips brush the rooster’s tail feathers.

Right. So, trying that again. Setting his jaw, Sam creeps after the bird as it pecks around the roots. As it wanders around the trunk of a tree, Sam lunges to his left, but the chicken veers to the right.

Correcting his course, Sam dashes after it, circling the tree just as Zachariah decides nope, it’s gonna go left and streaks off across the yard toward the hens, Sam in hot pursuit.

Dean’s cackling on the sidelines. “Get it Sammy!” he yells, whooping and hollering like he’s at a football game. Sam spares him a glower, determined to catch this stupid bird now that it’s a matter of pride.

He chases it around the cluster of clucking hens, back toward the trees, back into the yard, around and around in loops and laps. Finally he corners it between the fence and the chicken coop. Before it can fly away, Sam takes a mighty leap and tackles it, grabbing the rooster by its feet.

Dean’s in stitches, tears streaming down his face as Sam picks himself up. Holding the squawking, flapping rooster trying to wriggle out of his grip at arm’s length, Sam trudges over just as Castiel emerges from the barn, arms wrapped around a large dog crate and a tattered old blanket. His knee twinges a bit from where he hit the ground at a weird angle, but all he feels is a sense of victory.

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean wheezes as Castiel sets the crate on the ground and backs off, watching the spectacle from a respectable distance. “You think you’d be better at that by now.”

Spitting out dirt and feathers, Sam scowls at him and stuffs Zachariah into the crate, slamming the door shut before the rooster can escape and terrorize Castiel. “Yeah, like you could do better,” he snipes between pants, trying to catch his breath. Zachariah pitches a fit, pecking at the bars and kicking out some of the hay, but settles down a bit after Sam drapes the blanket over the front. “Just don’t let him out, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean says around a snort and giggle, obviously not taking this as seriously as he should. Whatever. Let him run around the yard trying to catch a chicken. He’ll see.

With Zachariah safely ensconced in the crate, Castiel deems it safe enough to accompany Sam as he walks Dean back to the Impala. After Dean settles Zachariah in the back seat, Castiel pulls a small plastic baggie of poultry pellets from his pocket and holds it out to Dean. “Feed him once in the morning and once in the evening.”

Dean takes the baggie and slips it into his slacks pocket. “Do I just dump some in there or what?” He jerks a thumb at the crate on the back seat.

Sam shakes his head. “You can pour some into a shallow bowl or put them on a plate. Doesn’t matter how much; he’ll eat what he wants and leave the rest.”

Dean nods. “Okay then. Guess I’ll be heading off.” Then he grins and tips an invisible cowboy hat at them. “Thank ya kindly, pardners.”

Sam shoots him a very plastic smile as Dean slides behind the wheel. Seriously. When is he gonna knock it off with the stupid cowboy shit?

As the Impala rolls down the gravel drive, classic rock blaring from the rolled down windows, Castiel sidles up beside Sam, a pensive expression on his face. “Do you think we should have warned him that Zachariah likes to crow all night long?”

Smirking, Sam shakes his head. “Nah.”

-.-.-.-.-

#this-darkness-writes #sastiel #sam/castiel #spn fanfic #spn au bingo #farm au #humor

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plaidstiel-wormstache · 7 years ago

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Mrs Darcy

As promised from an earlier WIP’s coming up... here’s my Pride and Prejudice smut. Thanks go to @notnaturalanahi for sending in an idea and then talking Pride and Prejudice 2005 movie with me all week. Everything Expected: smut, language, 2005 movie based plot and spoilers, unbeta’d garbage, Mr Darcy x YN Bennett. 1483 word count

YN took the first step into the carriage and his hand shot out of its own volition, taking hers to assist her up and in, opposite her parents. She gripped the offered hand, unbelieving that he was gentle enough to consider helping. Fitzwilliam let go of her hand and turned away before the horses had begun to move, before YN had even sat down. Her skin against his, her dainty fingers gripping his strong hand, her touch still lingered. It made his nerves tingle, the hairs on the back of his hand were standing. The electricity that tickled underneath the skin of his palm was almost uncomfortable. Mr Darcy flexed his hand wide then curled it into a fist. He couldn’t wait to be free of any company so he could relieve the increasing pressure between his legs. His blood was pumping harder than ever before, he was sure he could feel it coursing through his body, building to a throb in his pants. He was overtaken by a desperate need to wrap his hand around his cock and pump till he was wasted, spent of energy. All because of the touch that lasted no longer than a second.

Months passed and still that touch lingered. Fitzwilliam couldn’t believe his eyes as he entered his Aunt’s music room. Lady Catherine, her daughter Anne, the intolerable Mr Collins, his nice enough wife Charlotte and … there she was, YFN Bennett. He sat next to her at dinner and listened to her quick wit and fast answers to Lady Catherine’s interrogation, holding back the smile as she refused to tell of her age and left the older woman flabbergasted. But then the true delight of the evening came when listening to her play the piano forte, watching her fingers move over the keys. Her fingers, her hand, that hand. Darcy’s pent up lust made his words sound harsh and elicited yet another snipe from YN. But he was sure, he was so sure that when he poured his heart out to her the next day, after church, that she would return his affection. But his words came out wrong and she threw them back in his face, giving him more to think on, more to feel guilty for. But he wouldn’t let her accuse him of hurting Mr Wickham. And at the mention of that man’s name, Darcy burst, his raw emotion laid before YN and they both argued. He hated the way they’d left things, he had to be open and honest, not allow her to continue to blame him for false truths she’d been told, so he wrote her a note. All the while, his quill scratched at the paper, reminding him of that day she had circled him with Caroline Bingley. One of the first few days he had truly fallen for YFN Bennett.

It was months again before Mr Darcy saw her again. He’d come home early to surprise Georgiana and as he greeted his little sister, whom he doted upon, he looked up to the crack in the door and saw her. It was only a brief second, but he saw her. YN’s demeanor had changed, she was softer and, was it possible she was shy? Fitzwilliam felt like he’d met an entirely different YN there and then. But he dared not get his hopes up, she had rejected him once before and he was still hurting, though he couldn’t help entertain the small flirting gazes and quips, the smile that encouraged him to believe.

Months passed again. Mr Darcy had paid and attended the wedding of Wickham and YN’s younger sister Lydia, promising them both to silence. He did it all for YN, and yet, he didn’t want her if all she was doing was repaying a debt for her family. Fitzwilliam knew she’d be there, after all he was accompanying his friend to the Bennett household, moral support for Charles as he asked Jane to marry him. Of course YN was there as they both stood in the doorway, looking at the five women. He waited for his friend to speak, for someone to say something, but he couldn’t help but stare at YN, wishing it were him asking for her hand. That hand.

“What are you thinking about?” YN asked, rubbing at his broad back with her soft and warm hand. That hand. “About you.” He replied, looking back over his shoulder at her. YN was lying on her side, hand still lingering at the small of his back, the silk shift gave her an angelic glow against the light of the fire. “About me?” She asked, smiling when he lay back next to her, craning his neck to kiss her jaw. “About you Mrs Darcy!” Fitzwiliam was sure he’d never truly believe she was his. She wore his ring, claimed his name, and held his heart. But it was too good to be true. “Is that right?” She laughed as he pushed at her shoulder, rolling her onto her back and him onto his side, lifting up onto his elbow, looking down into her eyes. “I love you, YN.” He breathed, his eyes flicking from hers to her lips, mesmerized when her tongue flicked across them, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. “I love you,” she reached forward, brushing those pink and full lips over his, “husband.” She puckered her lips, sealing her words between them. He broke from her lips, kissing lower, making his way down her jaw, her neck, using his thumb to tip her chin back. His other hand ghosted down the silk of her shift, over her side, gripping her hip as she dug her fingers into his shoulders. But as he released his lips from her collarbone her fingers softened and his hand was able to continue down, over her thigh before commencing its return. He gathered the hem of the white shift and slid it up, his calloused hands gently scraping against her milky smooth skin. His thumb brushed over her core and she greedily pushed against it, moaning quietly. He noticed her reaction and did it again, this time a little harder. “Darcy…” YN didn’t seem aware of the word that slipped out with a long sigh. He looked up to her face, again lost in her beauty; her lips slightly parted, eyes shut, her cheeks flushed as her breath came in quick pants. Fitzwilliam moved his thumb in circles against the hardening nub, enjoying her fingers wound tight in his short hair, the moans that were now coming as easily as he was sure to later. He watched as she came undone beneath him, his thumb still circling, pressing against her as he dipped his head to suck at her still covered breast. She arched below him, her hands grabbing at his arm, holding him between her legs. She slid her hand down and over his, guiding his middle finger into her folds, feeling just how wet she was. With one small movement of her leg, she was opened further to him, and his finger plunged into the warmth that she exuded. Her thighs closed around his hand, locking him in place, her fingernails dug into his flesh and his eyes fluttered closed momentarily. “Fitz,” She begged in a breath, her eyes staring deep into his when he looked back at her. The corner of his lips curled up into a smile. With his free hand he pulled the silk away from her breast, exposing her hardened nipple, tracing his lips and nose down her skin before enveloping the rosy bud into his mouth, tongue swirling around it, sucking at it, teeth grazing over the sensitive peak as her hips bucked up, encouraging his finger deeper into her cunt. He began to pump his digit inside her, thumb still circling the bundle of nerves between her lower lips. With one last thrust of his finger, one rougher circle of his thumb, and a cool sigh over her nipple, she was crying his name. Her whole body trembled beneath him and he watched her come undone. YN was more beautiful than he ever thought possible, turning him on more than he’d ever been in his life. The precum leaking from his tip inside his pants, creating a warm, wet spot in the material. He pressed his throbbing erection against her thigh, hoping to relieve some pressure. YN noticed the small movement and smiled lazily, opening her eyes and finding his. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered, pulling himself back to her lips. “And all yours,” she panted, her leg falling open for him to remove his finger and reclaim his hand. She pushed him to his back and straddled him, reaching for the string that held his pants up. Fitzwilliam let out a needy groan when she pulled his cock free from the confines of his trousers, pumping it a few times with her hand. That hand.

Reblog and comment if you liked it, if you didn’t like it, if you were unsure what language I was writing in ... feedback makes the tumblr’verse go round!

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#pride and prejudice #mr darcy #reader bennett #fitzwilliam darcy #smut

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years ago

Text

Fic: We’ll All Go Together When We Go (ao3) - chapter 4 Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Barry Allen/Mick Rory, Leonard Snart & Mick Rory

Summary: Doomworld takes some time to fix. Barry and Mick use that time to find each other.

(written for @flashwaveweek 2017 for Day 6: Domestic)

——————————————————————————

"Beep! It's six forty five! Time to wake up!"

"Noooooo," Barry moans.

"Beep! Six forty six! Time to wake up!"

"Miiiiick," Barry says, burying his face in his boyfriend's arm. "Make him stop."

Mick huffs into semi-awareness. "Lenny," he says groggily. "Stop harassing my boyfriend."

That gives Barry a happy feeling in his stomach. Mick isn't always one to give a name to what they have, much less one as undignified as boyfriend.

That happy feeling makes him crack his eyes open, hoping maybe to see his boyfriend (now official!) and possibly reward his heroic gesture with a kiss.

This is a tactical error.

A fully dressed Snart stands by the bed, grinning a positively wicked smile.

They're not even in Mick's apartment, where Snart at least lives right upstairs and had a spare key. They're in Barry's apartment, which is in a totally different neighborhood, in a walk-up, and had been locked up for the night.

Not that little things like locked doors ever stopped Leonard goddamn Snart.

"Scarlet, you told me to make sure you were late," he says, grin getting even wider. "The words 'whatever it takes' were used."

"I take it back," Barry says, even though he vaguely recalls some reason he needed to be at work early this week. He does not trust that expression on the face of Leonard Snart, former world-controlling dictator, current supervillain, thief and all-around havoc on everybody's nerves. "I retract."

"Too late," Snart says, and pulls out the cold gun.

"I hate yooooooooou!"

But Barry's up and at 'em soon enough, and Snart is nice enough to give him a ride into work while Barry chomps on his breakfast (leftovers from breakfast-for-dinner they had last night - god, Mick's such a good cook), which Barry only realizes is weird when they walk into the CCPD still side-by-side.

"Bear," Joe says. "What is he doing here?"

Barry blinks, then turns to squint at Snart, whose smirk is positively cheery. "I'm not actually sure," he admits. "I think he followed me here. I'm not sure why."

"I thought you were dating the other one," Joe grumbles.

"I am," Barry says. "They're just, y'know, kind of a package deal. Hey, Snart? What're you doing here?"

"I'm taking Iris out for breakfast," Snart responds with a beaming smile. "She's meeting me here - ah, there she is!"

He sweeps away.

Joe's expression looks like a cat being strangled.

Barry munches on his last piece of French toast.

"Bear," Joe says.

"She's married to Eddie," Barry reminds him.

"Barry."

"She wouldn't cheat on him at all, and even if she did, she wouldn't be so obvious about it."

"Barry!"

"Besides, Snart doesn't do romantic relationships," Barry says. Or sex, which is what Joe really cares about, but Barry's not going to malign Snart's scary reputation by pointing it out. People are weird.

He goes to work, wondering what it is he's forgetting.

Mick comes around noon with a box of lunch that smells so good it has half the precinct eyeing them like hungry hawks, as opposed to how they usually look when Mick or Snart's around - angry, bitter, cheated.

Not that they can do anything - with their state records wiped and a federal pardon in hand for helping fight the aliens, even with their occasional acts of supervillainy, both of them are clean enough to run for mayor.

Not that that says much, in Central.

"How's your day going?" Mick asks, pulling out lunch.

"Busy," Barry admits. Ever since he's been making an effort not to super-speed through his work - one terrible evening feverishly trying to re-learn all the work he did in preparation for a trial is more than enough for him - his days have gone back to being pleasantly full.

And, hey, if he sometimes speeds through the boring stuff, no one can blame him.

"Do you remember why I asked Snart to wake me up this morning?" Barry asks, remembering. "I've totally forgotten."

"No clue," Mick says.

"Do you know why he's meeting with Iris?"

"Something about her newspaper," Mick says. "And, uh, y'know."

That 'y'know' meant Doomworld.

"I don't want to know," Barry decides.

"We still on for movies this afternoon?" Mick asks. "Cisco said he was covering for your, uh, run."

"Oh, yeah!" Barry says, brightening. "Definitely. I've been wanting to see this one for a while."

"Good," Mick says, and then he lapses quiet while Barry talks about his day so far. Mick prefers listening, generally, to talking; his words don't always come easy, as he puts it, and he's learned to pick them carefully as a result.

It's a very nice lunch. Afterwards, Barry auctions off the rest of the cupcakes Mick brought to the department - highest bidder among the science department takes a boring assignment off Barry's plate, highest among the detectives promises to pick Barry for the next interesting crime scene, and two cupcakes reserved special for Captain Singh for looking the other way, because, well, this is Central ("Triple chocolate caramel?" Singh groans. "Is he trying to make us all fat? Is that the latest supervillain scheme? You’d tell me if it was, right, Allen?") - and goes back to work.

"Planning on making out with your arsonist in public this afternoon?" Julian snipes.

Barry rolls his eyes at him.

He's just jealous that Barry's love life is infinitely more interesting that his own.

It's a good day, and Barry even manages to finish up all his open projects before heading out to meet Mick at the movies. He's only a little late, like twenty minutes, but they're still doing previews, so it's practically like he wasn't late at all.

Also, Mick got him three extra-large buckets of popcorn.

Best boyfriend ever.

They do end up making out in the back row, but only through the boring bits. Barry feels qualified to discuss it tomorrow. Loudly, and with specific references to scenes. Take that, Julian.

And then he gets home and his apartment's empty.

"What," Barry says.

"Who took all your stuff?" Mick asks, alarmed. "Should I -"

"Wait," Barry says.

"Wait?"

"I asked Snart to wake me up early so that I wouldn't be here when the movers arrived," Barry says. He stares at the empty apartment. "I didn't realize they'd be so - thorough."

Though, really, he should've. Snart had said something about supervising personally.

"Movers?" Mick asks.

"Yeah," Barry says. "We're moving in together."

"We are?"

"...Snart said it was your idea?" Barry suggests, throwing Snart under the bus right off the bat.

Mick considers it for a moment, then shrugs. "Good."

Barry can't help but hide a smile. Mick had been not-so-subtly stressing about asking Barry to move in for weeks, now, to the point where he was starting noticeably more fires than normal, so Barry had taken matters into his own hands, including maligning a (entirely willing) Snart for suggesting it.

Mick really did prefer major life events to have already happened, rather than looking forward to them.

Barry fully expects to be informed of his own wedding when he gets the first RSVP card back, honestly.

Barry rather likes it. Speedsters love surprises.

Joe had expressed some concern about it - he'd never quite approved of Mick or let go of his hopes that Barry and Iris would marry to live in platonic bliss like they'd planned when they were five, but he'd mostly let it go. He had, however, commented that it was 'weird' that they were planning on letting Snart room with them.

Barry pointed out that it was a common living arrangement in most of the globe, albeit usually with unattached family, and God knows that Snart is Mick's family as much as anyone still living.

Joe had asked if he was worried that any kids they adopted would get teased about it.

Barry told Joe he was way overthinking things, given that they were nowhere near the kids discussion, much less the practical issues involved with having a kid who would have a supervillain dad and a superhero dad - honestly, having a supervillain (anti-hero?) uncle living upstairs would hardly register on the kid's weird spectrum. Besides, having Snart around meant Mick still had his support system and someone to discuss his villainous outings with. And Barry likes Snart. He's funny and hilariously sneaky.

Though speaking of which -

"What was Snart doing with Iris earlier?" he asks, trailing Mick back to the car to head over to Mick's place (also Snart's, now also Barry's). "Now that we're not surrounded by cops."

"They're thinking of opening a PR firm."

"What?"

"Hero and villain image management."

"You're joking."

"Just as a part time thing. You know Snart's still got those spymaster itches from Doomworld."

"You give a man a worldwide network of informers, he doesn't give it up easy," Barry agrees, bemused. "Really? Is there enough of a market for that?"

"They're branching out. Kara and her cousin have expressed some interest in figuring out how to separate their brands some."

"Their first clients are in another universe?"

Mick shrugs.

"Well, if it makes them happy," Barry says after a moment. "Are they coming for dinner?"

Iris has been by practically every day, often along with Eddie, often not when he's working late. They live just down the street in a building Snart may or may not own through a number of shell companies.

Barry's trying to figure out when exactly to tell Iris that the 'once in a lifetime scoop' apartment was priced that way for a reason, and that reason being Snart's inability to let go of anyone he liked, ever.

Eventually.

He’ll tell them eventually.

(He’s pretty sure Eddie already suspects.)

Man, if Snart goes evil again next Doomworld, Barry's expecting to be collared and leashed to Mick with Iris and Eddie in the next opulent luxurious room next door. Possibly locked into a Jacuzzi and not allowed to come out for hours and hours.

...that doesn't sound so bad, actually. Barry will have to suggest it.

"Yeah," Mick says. "I was thinking of making chicken."

"Which chicken, the breaded-with-aromatics or the divine-sauce-from-heaven?"

"...sauced."

"Lemon, tomato, or other?"

"Lemon," Mick says, starting to sound suspicious. "You getting bored, Red?"

"No, just making menu plans for your eventual restaurant."

"I'm not gonna own a restaurant. No matter what you and Snart say."

Barry grins and heads inside to drop off his stuff. Everything he owns fits in just right alongside Mick's, it's like he was always there.

Just right.

#flashwave #flashwaveweek2017 #mick rory #barry allen #the flash #heatwave #leonard snart #joe west #iris west #eddie thawne #my fic

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elspethsunschampion · 8 years ago

Text

Fact or Fiction: Chapter Nine

A/N 1: Sorry I’m so behind on posting this here versus AO3, I’m still trying to get synced up, but I think that should be solved after this chapter post.

Rated M for abuse, sexual content, and discussion of rape/non-con. Canon-typical violence.

Summary: It’s Ral Zarek’s sixth year at Hogwarts. And everything would be fine if Jace wasn’t totally occupied with his new girlfriend, to the point where it’s honestly kind of weird, and Ral’s starting to be concerned. Now if only everyone would stop telling Ral he’s just jealous and LISTEN to him…after all, he’s NOT just jealous, right? (Sequel to Send to Sleep.)

Ships: Jace Beleren/Ral Zarek, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Hermione Granger, Nissa Revane/Chandra Nalaar, Elspeth Tirel/Teysa Karlov

A/N: Many, many thanks to @paperclipminimizer for beta-ing and checking my timeline, as well as answering all my questions about Harry Potter. Thanks also to Juri, @dragons-suck, and everyone on Sketchydoodles’ Vorthos server for listening to me rant about this thing as it took shape.

Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine: Steelclad Serpent

“I still don’t like him,” Ron grumbled. He, Harry, and Draco were clambering over a particularly rough set of scattered stones as they tried to make their way up the tor that Draco had identified as their next most likely location.

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” Harry said tiredly. “You don’t have to.”

“People don’t just change.”

“You’re trying to.”

Ron gave a growl at that, but subsided. He had at least managed not to be rude to Draco’s face over the past few days, which Harry considered to be a small miracle. They didn’t really have the breath to be arguing anyway. Harry would rather have done the search from a broom, but Draco pointed out it was too easy to miss things that way, so here they were. Harry had discovered he was missing Hermione badly. Though she and Ron sniped at one another, at least he didn’t feel as if they were actually going to kill each other if someone misstepped. Keeping an eye on Ron and Draco was exhausting, though, Harry had to admit, Draco had actually been politer than Ron, if distant.

Still, it was discouraging. Harry thought he and Draco had finally been getting used to one another, like they might actually be able to become something more than casual colleagues, and then Ron had to show up and fuck everything up. Even if he had been trying to be concerned, it was not a variety of concern Harry had a great deal of desire to deal with right now. And scrambling all over the country didn’t leave him much time to do anything other than mentally complain about it, either.

In frustration, he started climbing faster, and managed to outstrip both Draco and Ron in getting to the top of the tor. Breathing hard, he pulled himself over the top and paused to catch his breath, then found himself shivering. Up here, the wind was suddenly bone-chilling, and there was a strange dimness in the air he hadn’t been expecting. Harry felt his heartrate speed up—this might be it, finally.

He pulled his wand out of his robes as a precaution and scanned the landscape. Apart from the chilly feeling in the air, at first glance there was nothing terrible out of place, just a circle of uneven, rocky ground covered in moss. Still, the chill in the air and the way the back of his neck prickled told him that there might be something more here than met the air. “Ostendi carmeni—” he began, starting to incant a spell to reveal active charms on the location.

There was a loud whooshing sound, and he felt something that seemed cold and hot at the same time flare up in front of him, but before anything else could happen, Draco was there, tackling him to the ground. His wand was out as well, but Harry couldn’t hear if he was saying anything over the sudden howling roar and icy chill. For a moment, it was like being caught in an earthquake, the world rocking and shaking around them. Draco grunted in pain, and Harry shut his eyes, trying to reorient himself.

He might have passed out for a minute, he wasn’t sure. What seemed like a moment later, he was coughing out a lungful of dust, and Draco was groaning next to him while Ron shouted his name. “Shit, Harry, are you all right, mate?”

His first attempt at a response was unintelligible due to more coughing, and he waved a hand a Ron, who was hovering frantically and apparently trying to decide whether to slap him on the back. “I’m okay,” he managed, on his second attempt at vocalizing. “How’s Draco?”

“What the fuck happened?” Ron blurted out, kneeling beside them, and hesitantly turning to Draco, who, at this point, was swearing a blue streak. Harry relaxed slightly because if Draco was capable of the creativity required for some of the obscenities he was letting out, he wasn’t dying.

“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “There was a spell geared to go off when I tried to use the revelatory incantation. Seemed like dark magic, but I didn’t recognize it.”

Draco coughed, sitting up. “Damn it, Potter,” he said heavily. “Weren’t you the one who was an Auror?”

Since this was one of the things Harry had already been thinking frustratedly, he groaned, and put a hand to his face. “Yeah, I just didn’t recognize that spell at all.”

“I’ve never seen it either,” Ron pointed out. “The place felt off, but there’s none of the obvious tells you’d expect from this kind of thing.”

“Then I suppose it’s lucky my father thought it necessary to drill me in medieval and pre-medieval curses,” Draco drawled. “I should think that one was from as far back as Merlin’s era or even earlier.” He winced, trying to move, and hissed in pain.

“Luna didn’t tell us about anything like this,” Harry frowned. “D’you think we stumbled across another dark magic site?”

Draco shook his head. “Look there,” he said. “Beneath the moss. The stones are broken, and in the center, the earth is churned up as if something was buried there. No, I think Luna just got lucky.”

“She said she found the remains of a befuddlement charm, I think,” Harry pointed out. “Surely her snooping around to find that out should’ve triggered this?”

“Old magic is unreliable,” Draco returned, wincing again. “Old enough and the spell might have been unraveling, or maybe she just casts her spells oddly enough it didn’t recognize her. Old spells sometimes don’t recognize newer ones as well as they ought to, with the way magic evolves.” He shrugged. “Ah, fuck, I should not have done that.”

Staring at the drawn, pale face before him, Harry was abruptly concerned again. “Look, we can mark this spot pretty easily,” he said. “We should head back now and make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Draco snapped, but when he tried to get up, he yelped in pain again.

“You’re not.” Harry stood first, putting out a hand to help his friend to his feet. “We can afford to wait another day. You’re injured, we need to deal with it, and we need to make sure the curse won’t have lingering effects.”

Draco took the hand, but made a face. “As long as you promise not to send me to St. Mungo’s.”

“We’ll take care of it ourselves. Ron and I’ve plenty of practice taking care of this sort of thing. Right, Ron?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure, mate.” To Harry’s surprise, Ron gave a bemused smile. “Yeah. We can take care of it. Um. Draco.” The sound of Ron calling him ‘Draco’ instead of ‘Malfoy’ made Harry’s eyebrows rise sharply, but he decided not to make a big deal out of it.

After they’d managed to get Draco back on his feet, they had to mark the location, which they did on their map, Harry not being too eager to try any other magic nearby in case of setting off any other age-old curses. Finally, they started limping back the way they had come.

It took them twice as long to make their way back to the bed-and-breakfast as it had taken them to walk out in the first place. Draco was able to walk, but he could do so only painfully and slowly, and was reduced to muttering creative obscenities nonstop within the first ten minutes.

Once they’d finally made it back, Draco sat down on the bed, yanked off his singed robes, and started to pull off the shirt he wore beneath, but he stopped with a hiss of pain. “Damn,” he managed. “I think it’s stuck.”

There was a long pause, and then Harry realized Ron was shifting from foot to foot and looking at the two of them. “I’ll help?” Harry managed, in a questioning sort of voice. “We should be able to just disintegrate it or something. I didn’t realize you’d been—did it burn you?”

There was another awkward silence, finally broken by Draco, who said irritably, “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not in danger, I’m just in pain. I need to get my fucking shirt off and put some ointment on it. If neither of you wants to help with that, then get out and let me do it myself.”

Something spiked through Harry, and, for a moment, he almost felt a sense of vertigo. He should just take Ron and go, let Draco have a little privacy. But Draco looked both angry and lonely, and Harry felt abruptly guilty and—something else. There was another something boiling up in his stomach, and he didn’t have time to figure it out right now. “I’ll help,” he said, after a moment. “Ron, can you go and see about getting us dinner or something?”

Ron frowned, looking as if he was about to object, and then sighed and nodded. “Yeah, sure, mate.” He paused at the door, hovering, and then blurted, “Thanks, Draco,” before leaving quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned back to Draco. “Right, let’s get a look at your back,” he said.

The expression on Draco’s face was—odd. Stone-faced, almost belligerent, he seemed to be glaring at Harry, but when Harry got closer, he realized that his friend was actually trembling slightly. “Right,” Harry said again. “Hold still, don’t want to jinx you by accident.” He took out his wand and seated himself gingerly on the bed beside Draco. “Evanesco,” he murmured, carefully tucking his wand beneath Draco’s collar, where it should have little chance of vanishing anything unfortunate. Normally, the Vanishing Spell was instantaneous, but for some odd reason, the shirt seemed to fade for a moment instead of just blinking out of existence. “Let me see your back.”

Draco slid around on the bed. “It stings a bit, but I’ve had worse,” he said, in a flat tone of voice that told Harry not to inquire further. Harry peered at the back that was presented to him. At first glance, it looked bruised, but something about the darkening coloration was off, and he frowned. Definitely wouldn’t do to just leave this injury alone.

“You said you had an ointment, right?”

Nodding stiffly, Draco started to lean over to where he’d left his pack, but he stopped with a curse. “Can you get it?”

“Yeah, of course. Are you sure that’s all you’re going to need?”

“I’ve had a lot of exposure to ancient dark magic,” Draco replied. “Yes. I will be fine, but I would rather you help me with the healing ointment than dither over whether I will need anything extra.”

“Sorry.” Harry felt his ears heating up as he ducked down to snag the pack and started rifling through it.

“It’s in the purple bottle,” Draco informed him, just as he found a number of potions that he would otherwise have had no way to identify. He grabbed the purple bottle and let the pack drop to the bed as he turned back to Draco.

He hadn’t realized that Draco was so skinny. Robes weren’t exactly a revealing kind of outfit; like this, in just his trousers and nothing else, Draco’s ribs and knobby spine were clearly visible, and his shoulder blades were pointier than Harry might have liked. Awkwardly, Harry popped the seal on the purple bottle with a quick, silent spell, and let the fluid inside spill out across his hand. It was clear, with a faint pink tinge, a vaguely floral scent he couldn’t quite place, and it made his fingers tingle ever-so-slightly.

Draco shivered as Harry carefully began to rub the ointment into his skin, and Harry tried to be gentler. The ugly dark color faded into a bruised yellow-green where the ointment had touched, but the tension in Draco’s back hadn’t eased; if anything, it had gotten worse at Harry’s hesitant ministrations. “Is it helping?” he asked.

There was a moment of silence, and then a sudden intake of breath. “Oh—yeah, thanks,” Draco said, almost vacantly, and he turned to Harry with an expression that it took Harry’s brain several seconds to parse as an attempt at a smile.

“You don’t look like it’s helping.”

“I don’t like feeling vulnerable,” Draco snapped. “Look, Potter, I can take it from here, all right? I’ll just bandage it up, the ointment will work, and I’ll be fine in twelve to seventy-two hours, depending.”

There was still something here Harry wasn’t getting. It was that same weird distance that always seemed to grow up between him and Draco whenever they were getting—well, close. “I can bandage it up,” he offered. “It’s probably easier for me. Look, if there’s something else wrong—I mean, you know I’m absolute rubbish at the feelings thing, but I’d like to help. We’re friends?” He hadn’t intended the last to be a question, but it seemed to have come out that way anyway.

Draco took a long, deep breath. “Merlin, Harry, I—”

“Just tell me, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Ten years ago, if anyone’d told him he’d be saying this to Draco Malfoy—to a half-naked Draco Malfoy, some small part of his brain noted, oddly gleeful—he’d have laughed in their face. He hesitated a moment, then put a shaky hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Draco twisted round on the bed, and his hand came up. For a moment, Harry thought he was about to be punched, and then Draco grabbed the back of his head, pulled him forward, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Harry made a strangled noise, as a number of things abruptly made sense to him, and then he leaned into the kiss. Things were just starting to get interesting when Draco pulled back sharply and stared at him. “Sorry, Potter,” he said stiffly.

“Sorry?” Harry echoed, in confusion, and one of Draco’s eyebrows climbed into his hair.

“Unless I—shouldn’t be?” he asked cautiously.

Flushing, Harry’s eyes flickered down across Draco’s naked upper torso. “Yeah, let’s go with that one,” he said, and pinned Draco to the bed.

Frowning, Ral watched as the ink traced another blurry blue line on the parchment by itself, as it paused and a blot formed. “Now she’s somewhere on the fourth floor,” he sighed in exasperation. “I don’t get it.” With Teysa’s apparently encyclopedic knowledge of spells to help them, he and Chandra had set up a tracing spell on Emmara that ought to be all but imperceptible. So far, she certainly hadn’t given any indication that she knew they’d cast it, at least, but the results were—peculiar.

For the past few days, every evening, she’d left the common room at about the same time and gone somewhere completely innocuous, as far as they could tell. Every day, Ral, Teysa, and Chandra had waited until she’d left, gone to where the spell had indicated, and found themselves wandering around in the middle of an empty corridor somewhere in the middle of the castle. It didn’t make any sense.

“We must be missing something.” Teysa leaned over his shoulder and stared at the dot. “Either she’s disrupting our spell, or she’s somehow hiding wherever it is she’s actually going.”

“This needs to stop taking so long,” Ral growled. “The longer it takes, the more Jace—”

“And Nissa and Elspeth still aren’t waking up,” Chandra put in. “You’re right, we need to speed things up somehow.”

“We need help,” Ral said grimly. “We need something she won’t expect. Something she can’t guard against.”

“But we don’t know anything about her motivations,” Teysa objected. “How can we predict what she will and won’t expect? She’s in the position of power here.”

Ral threw himself backward in his chair so hard that he nearly overturned it. “I know,” he groaned. “God, this is almost as bad as what happened first year! Actually, it might be worse, at least Mirko wasn’t really doing it on purpose.”

“Who’s Mirko?” Teysa asked.

“Mirko is a boggart,” Ral answered automatically. “They live in the Forbidden Forest, but they're usually around for things like Halloween. Wasn’t Narset going to do an independent study on communicating with them?” He looked at Chandra.

“I think she did some last year, but she’s been really busy this year.”

“Talking to a boggart?” Teysa sounded incredulous. “A mindless fear spirit? How?”

Ral waved a hand. “Mirko, uh, isn’t really mindless. It turns out if a boggart is old enough, they can get pretty smart, and if you happen to let them share a mind with a powerful legilimens, they can become almost human.”

“A boggart. A smart boggart.” Teysa smiled suddenly. “I can’t imagine anyone would expect that.”

Tilting his head to one side, Ral considered this. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, I think you’re right. They’re pretty good at hiding themself, too, so they could just follow her—all we need is a way to tell them all this.”

“I can ask Narset,” Chandra offered. “Didn’t she say something about using a pensieve?”

“Yeah.” Ral tapped his quill against his chin. “It makes sense, and I think it’s what Professor Granger did back in first year.”

“Then we just have to get hold of a pensieve somehow,” Teysa frowned.

“Professor Potter has one, he used it for Jace’s lessons sometimes.” Ral kicked at the desk. “But he’s not here, and he wouldn’t listen if we asked to borrow it anyway.”

“Who said anything about asking?” Chandra grinned. “No one would expect us to break into his rooms, so it’ll be easy.”

“That’s certainly one way of looking at it.” Teysa’s eyebrows went up, but she didn’t sound terribly perturbed.

“Right,” said Ral, pleased to have a plan that might actually end in them being able to save Jace from whatever-the-fuck Emmara was doing to him. “Chandra can get the pensieve, and I’ll get Mirko. They like me.”

“And I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the tracking spell,” Teysa agreed, flashing him a bright smile.

“We’ve fucking got this!” Chandra chimed in excitedly.

“What the fuck?”

“Ron, it’s not—okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like.” Harry sat up hurriedly and then realized that he might be showing a bit too much skin. Beside him, Draco frantically grabbed for a shirt.

“Dammit, Weasley, you could have knocked!” he snarled angrily.

“Sorry I wasn’t expecting my best mate to be fucking a Death Eating poofter!” Ron snarled back, and Harry felt Draco, beside him, go very still.

“Ron, I don’t want to hear this,” he cut in, and Ron shut his eyes and took an explosively deep breath.

“Sorry,” he forced out. “I just need—I’m going to go get a drink. I got us some Muggle food for dinner, chow down.” He dropped a paper bag on the bed and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Harry looked awkwardly over at Draco, scratching the back of his head.

“Sorry, that kind of killed the mood, didn’t it?”

“No, no, I enjoy it when the tail end of my lovemaking is accompanied by my lover’s friend walking in and reminding me of all the reasons a relationship is impossible,” Draco retorted caustically. He still hadn’t managed to find a shirt—probably, Harry realized, as the endorphins started to clear up, because Harry had vanished the one he’d been wearing before all this started.

“What d’you mean?” he asked with a frown. Okay, they hadn’t so much talked about this thing, more just fallen into bed, but he’d assumed if they were both on board with it, it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand. He didn’t want it to be a one night stand.

“Potter, really? Must I give you a lesson on exactly how impossible it is for the two of us to be—”

“—friends?” Harry cut in. “Because that seemed pretty fucking impossible a few years ago.”

“You know that isn’t what I was going to say.” But Draco was starting to look rather nonplussed.

“I just think you’re panicking,” Harry shrugged. “Ron came in at a bad time and was a twat. That doesn’t mean he’s right.”

Apparently giving up on the shirt, Draco sighed and sat back against the pillows. “Look, Potter, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Harry blinked at him. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you won’t—wait, what?”

“Oh sorry, did I derail your angstfest? I already had my bisexual awakening, Malfoy. After Ginny and I broke up, I dated a Muggle named Stephen for about a year. Didn’t really work out, mostly because I couldn’t tell him a lot of stuff about my personal life, but it was fine. It ended with less drama than the thing with Ginny, even.”

“You—Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World—dated a man—a Muggle man, and it never made the tabloids?”

“Er, yeah, we were pretty discreet. Besides, no one expects Harry-Potter-the-Boy-Who-Lived-Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World to be dating a Muggle. Maybe we were just lucky.”

“Well.” Malfoy stared and sat back. “Hm.”

“I mean,” Harry said, in an effort to be fair. “Muggle culture tends to be more accepting of the whole, y’know, being gay thing. Still not fantastic, mind you, but definitely better.”

“There is also the slight matter of me being an ex Death-Eater,” Malfoy said cautiously, but the spark of bitter anger seemed to have died away.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t bother me—not anymore—and I think that’s pretty much the most important thing,” Harry shrugged. “Don’t you?”

Though his expression was still guarded, Draco’s body was slowly relaxing. “I suppose that’s a not unreasonable way of looking at it,” he said stiffly.

“Okay, good then,” Harry said with a smile. “And maybe now would be a good time to eat.” He indicated the bag Ron had left on the bed. “When you dive in front of a curse for your boyfriend you tend to need to eat some food so your body heals up quicker, yeah?”

A slow flush was building across Draco’s pale face. “I—I suppose so,” he managed, and there was a smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.

Chapter Ten

#mtg #fanfiction #fact or fiction #my writing #readmore

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