#like ok that prologue chapter brings up SO MANY QUESTIONS

[salamanderstatedrive]

starting harrow the ninth and ive never been more confused in my life

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 1: Alternate Universe

Previous Chapter: Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Your unexpected arrival in Hawkins brings many questions for Eddie...but he knows better than to ask dumb questions.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Love at First Sight?, Tiny Angst if you Squint, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Lovesick Eddie, unbelievable pacing...just roll with it, Everything's Coming Up Munson

Note: Thanks to everyone who read the prologue.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

It seemed like everyone was there to say goodbye.

Your parents, Sam, Pat, Bonnie, all of your friends and their families. Everyone you know.

What a surprise.

You thought it was gonna be a quick morning getaway.

You'd already had dinner at Danny's last night with your parents and had seen countless faces—familiar and unfamiliar—who'd wished you well. This morning was just supposed to be about bags placed in the trunk, last minute hugs and tears from your mom, and then off you'd go.

You hadn't expected this.

Some little voice inside of you questioned why you hadn't; you'd known them all for practically your whole life.

5 years.

What...no...18 years.

Why wouldn't they want to be here as you embarked on your big journey away?

Sam gave a tearful speech. Your dad made some corny joke that only a dad could, one that had everyone in uproarious laughter--more laughter than people, it seemed--and then it was time to go.

You didn't have a real schedule, of course, you just wanted to make it to your destination with ample time. Nothing like driving into an unfamiliar town in the middle of the night only to find yourself in a heap of trouble.

Pat, ever observant, was the one to notice the anxiety etched on your face. He was as much your best friend as Sam was, maybe even more than she was; you'd known each other since Kindergarten, sat next to each other in the reading circle, of course he could tell you were itching to leave.

"Alright guys," he announced, clapping his hands twice the way a star quarterback would. "I'm sure she's ready to get away from all of us."

"Yeah," Sam let out a watery laugh. "You need to go so you can come back as soon as possible. Wink wink." She flashed her hand with the little diamond chip engagement ring that you helped Pat pick out, and then she collapsed against you in a hug.

"You go and you have the best time," she whispered in your ear. You nodded and buried your face in her hair. "I can't wait to hear all about it. Write letters home? Call? But don't worry about us, we'll all be safe here. Ok?"

"Yeah," you said breathlessly.

Then the next thing you knew, in the blink of an eye, you were in the driver's seat of your car, rolling towards the end of the block. You adjusted your rearview mirror and saw everyone you loved waving goodbye to you. You rolled down your window, and blew them a kiss and sent a wave; you'd miss them so much. You'd be back soon enough though; now it was time for you to just be free.

“Go back?” you quoted one Mr. Bilbo Baggins to yourself as you turned the corner and left everything you knew behind. “Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!”

This was it.

Eddie was dead.

That had to be the explanation.

Your car was one thing, and he could excuse it. He could convince himself it was anything else.

But you? His favorite character from his favorite television show. Someone who was absolutely, definitely fictional.

It was impossible.

"Hey!" you called out to the Mayfields with your voice, your your voice and not Rosemary Glass's voice. Your real voice. Yours.

Eddie pinched himself pretty unforgivingly—one last ditch effort to prove this was a dream—and winced.

Not dreaming. Definitely dead.

You quickly shut the door and crossed the distance towards Susan and Max.

"I'm sorry, it's late and it's cold; I've been driving all over and the road got icy, I must have lost traction. Need new tires maybe."

"Too bad," Susan snapped at you. "You hit my car, I'm calling the sheriff."

The two of you went back and forth for a second as you tried to get her not to call the cops and she stood her ground.

"I can pay for it!" You exclaimed suddenly and Susan froze in her spot. "And then some, for...I dunno, emotional distress I guess. I know it's late. I'm sure I woke you guys up. I'm just...I'm sorry."

You looked around self consciously all of a sudden, and Eddie could hear the faint murmur as you said something under your breath. He froze as your gaze slid over him, paused, and then kept going.

Play it cool, Munson. Don't pass out. Don't fuck this up.

It was hard when the love of his life was standing right there, in the flesh, and had just looked at him.

As Susan and Max met you in the middle of the yard to talk details, Eddie gave himself the pep talk of the century.

Even if he was dead and this was some sort of afterlife, surely the fates had certainly set this up for him. Some being of greater conscience than he--a mere human--could possibly comprehend was giving him this chance at...love? Happiness? It would be a good reward after an unremarkable end to a shitty life.

Or maybe he was still alive and had actually sold his soul to the devil back inside and this was the payoff.

"I'll fucking take it," he muttered to himself and fished another cigarette from the pack with shaky hands; he was gonna need it if he was gonna survive the night.

He watched the interaction between you and Susan with a keen eye, eager to witness the little gestures and mannerisms that he'd only seen on screen. Once it seemed Susan was happy with whatever deal you'd negotiated, you pulled a scrap of paper from the back pocket of your jeans and gesture vaguely around. Max was the one to snatch it from your hand and then point to a dark trailer that sat kitty corner from Granny's.

Were you gonna be his neighbor? This was just getting better and better.

"Thanks," you smiled and, even from this distance, Eddie's heart stopped.

If he was barely hanging on thanks to your presence, how was he gonna survive your smile? Especially if it was inevitably directed at him.

"Pull it together," he grumbled and took a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry flaring extra bright in the darkness of night.

The Mayfields retreated into their home and you shuffled back over to your car, feet kicking the gravel.

You were about to get back in when Eddie abruptly jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He called out to you. "Uh...I...know my way around cars, I can take a look at it in the morning. I-if you want. Bang out any dents."

"Can you?" you scrunched your nose in the way that made his knees shake. God he was pathetic. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah no problem," he smiled the friendliest and most welcoming smile he could.

His thoughts raced at lightspeed now, a mixture of logic and hope. No matter the circumstance, you were here because of him, which meant that this was his shot. So, he would fix your car--or at least try to--figure out if you were some sort of demon or something, and then ask you out.

Easy.

And hopefully you'd say yes. Hopefully. Eddie was gonna be optimistic, but not an idiot. He had to stay humble.

As you maneuvered your car the short distance to the dark trailer, Eddie watched. And in the glow of your taillights, he noticed the abundance of bumper stickers that adorned the trunk. Stickers that weren’t there in the finale, which meant…

"She got to have her adventure," he said to himself in awe, happy that...at least in the few months since you left Port Geneva, you might’ve gotten to experience the world just like you wanted to.

He couldn't wait to ask you all about it. He couldn't wait to find out everything.

The morning took way too long to arrive.

Eddie tried to sleep but he was too wired, too excited.

He already decided that he was gonna skip class the next day. Or maybe roll in late if you had someplace you needed to be and he wouldn't get to show you around town or something else totally not lame.

That’s what he was banking on, though. If you had no plans, he could take you to Benny’s and get you a short stack with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, just like you got at Danny’s Diner back home.

“Alright,” he stared at himself in the mirror as he stepped out of the shower. “See? You can’t do that kind of shit. Can’t scare her away by making her think you know her already. That’s creepy. Gotta act like we don't know her. Easy.”

Not that easy, actually.

He was just...bubbling with thoughts and feelings. Enough that they caused his brain to go into meltdown.

At first, he tried to rationalize it all, tried to come up with some solution. Because somehow, for reasons to be determined at a later time, you left the confines of Port Geneva’s universe and made it to this one, where you were actually definitely real.

Right? You couldn't be a hallucination if the Mayfields had talked to you too. In fact, they talked to you first. So if anything, you were their hallucination.

Eddie tried to recall something that Henderson and Sinclair had babbled on about at lunch the other day: some new issue of the Flash comics. Crisis on Infinite Universes or something where people jumped to different timelines. Whatever that meant. If he had the time, he knew he should ask them a few questions about different universes and how this might all be possible.

Purely hypothetical, spin it as some idea for a campaign.

But why would he wait and let a good thing pass him up just because this was weird and he had questions?

Best case scenario, no one beside him would realize that you were a tv character, they would just think your name was familiar or something.

Worst case scenario they accuse him of witchcraft and bringing you into this dimension or something because there was no way you were real.

It would all work itself out in the end. He just had to be uncharacteristically optimistic and keep his eyes on the prize.

Come morning, Wayne got home from work and he walked in the door just as Eddie had changed clothes for the fifth time, made coffee AND breakfast for him, and washed the dishes.

“Well isn’t this a surprise,” he remarked and stared at the scene in front of him. “Do I wanna know what you did?”

“You remember when I was younger,” Eddie began as he fiddled with his rings. “And I asked you…I dunno…something about the birds and the bees and you said ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older kid?’”

“Hmm,” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest and ran a hand over his mouth. “Go on.”

“It’s nothing bad but, uh, I’ll tell you when you’re older Wayne.”

His uncle cracked a fond smile, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and then shuffled down to the bathroom.

Eddie sighed in relief and took a sip of his coffee while he looked out the window towards your trailer. It was daytime now; he didn’t expect to see lights on or anything, but he knew you got in late and didn’t want to interrupt your sleep. Not a great first impression.

Before long, though, he’d just gotten too antsy to wait anymore. He practically sprinted—damn when was he gonna learn that he shouldn’t skip gym so much—across the park to your door, Wayne's meager toolbox from under the sink swinging from his hand.

He paused the slightest bit to admire your car--

How many hours of screen time had been spent in this exact car as you drove Sam and the gang around for various shenanigans. There was one episode, a favorite of his, where everyone was belting out a tune from the radio and you sat there in the driver's seat...too shy to open your mouth. When they finally coerced you? You had the worst singing voice...but you smiled so brightly...that was the moment he knew he loved you...

--and, more importantly, the stickers that adorned it.

There were some normal ones: funny phrases, a few band stickers he wouldn’t have expected you to listen to, and a single borderline political one. A sticker that specifically caught his eye said “Greetings from Erebor” with a sword that had to be Orcrist and dwarvish runes below it.

You were a girl after his own heart; fortunately, it already belonged to you.

Then there were the ones you’d obviously picked up on your travels. He took an extra moment to look at them and think of some questions he could ask. A favorite place you visited, something crazy you might have eaten, or even some fun facts about...Monument Valley, Ocala National Forest, Mystic Falls Virginia, or…Cicely Alaska?

“Damn,” he let out a low whistle. “Must've put some miles on this thing.”

Having spent enough time just standing there, Eddie finally climbed the stairs and knocked on your door; the walls were thin enough that he could hear you shuffling around inside and he was relieved that he hadn’t woken you.

The door swung open--Eddie swore he heard the applause track from Port Geneva play in his head--and then there you were.

It was a moment he would cherish in his heart for the rest of his days. You, standing there, smiling that sweet, unsure smile at him with slightly tired but nevertheless bright eyes. Your clothes were askew from sleep or aforementioned shuffling and you straightened them out a little when you realized what you might look like.

“Cigarette porch guy,” you pointed a finger at him in recollection after a moment.

Now was the time, though, to muster up every ounce of Munson Magic that he could. He collected it deep in the core of him and then let it mingle with affection in his heart.

"Cigarette porch guy is my father. You can just call me Eddie."

You snorted a laugh and he beamed confidently; that confidence, however, fled his body as he felt the urge to hop around, giggle, and say "I know" when you introduced yourself. He needed to not screw this up by being a hyper mega-fan.

“I was so tired when I got in, I honestly thought you were a figment of my imagination,” you explained. "I woke up at like...4am trying to figure out if you were real or not."

Funny. He was trying to figure out the same thing.

Still, his heart skipped a beat to know you'd thought about him in any capacity after the few words you'd shared.

“Ouch,” he laid a hand on his chest and feigned a stumble. “I know it was late but I would hope I made a bit of a better impression than that.”

You pressed your lips together, scrunched your nose, and looked down at your feet.

“I’m, uh,” Eddie thumbed over his shoulder. “Here to take a look at your car.”

“Oh!” Your head snapped right back up. “Right! Yes, oh my god thank you. Let me just…get my keys and my shoes hang on.”

You retreated back into the trailer and Eddie, nosy as he was, peeked inside after you. Wayne would be ashamed of him, but he couldn't exactly care right now.

Your trailer mirrored other ones in the park, in terms of layout: a living room, a little kitchen, a hall that probably led to a bedroom. There was furniture though, which was not the norm.

A green armchair and a very well-worn blue plaid sofa that was home to a granny-square quilt, a too-soft pillow, and a very fancy canvas bedroll that Eddie assumed must have belonged to you. There was a dusty coffee table stacked with dustier magazines and newspapers and some very questionable looking mugs and plates of what used to be food. Yuck. A green bicycle with one tire was hung vertically on the wall beside the couch. And a little dining set off the kitchen looked like something straight out of the Brady Bunch.

He tried to remember who lived here before you did with such weird taste in furniture. Even more peculiar, where they might have gone for them to leave all of it behind. Especially the plates. No one came to mind though; he'd have to ask Wayne.

You shuffled down the hall--presumably from the bathroom since you'd slept out on the couch--and hopped as you tugged your sneakers on.

You jingled your keys at him excitedly.

"Here we go," you exclaimed. He held his hand out to take them and you were about to drop them in his palm when you hesitated. "I hope I'm not putting you out."

"Of course not," he reassured you and then backed out of the doorway. "It's my pleasure."

You listened aptly as he touted his excellent mechanic skills--

"You, uh...might hear my van rumble a little bit though. Haven't quite figured out why it's making that sound yet."

--and then you sat on the porch steps to watch him as he got to work.

The two of you talked as he inspected your car.

You were surprisingly very good at making conversation. Eddie always believed that you were a little soft spoken or a little shy, watching you on tv. However, as you spoke so excitedly and confidently and he saw you bloom in front of his very eyes, he wondered if it was just a byproduct of being overlooked whenever Sam took the spotlight with her grand speeches, big emotions, and too-bright personality.

He was suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing the real you and learning a lot more that wasn't shown on TV. In return, he could show you the real him too. Hell, he was always trying to be the real him...there were just some things though...

What an odd idea that hadn't really hit him until now. The desire to have you in his life to share things with, and the reality of having you here. He'd never thought of a relationship with a future before, hell hadn't even thought of his future really. Not even with Paige and the whole rockstar pipe dream, as short-lived as that was.

But the more he thought of that with you, the more he liked it. Desired it.

You started the conversation off by asking him about Hawkins and if he'd lived here for long. He gave probably the most unbiased opinion that he could as he hammered out the dents from your collision: it was a sleepy suburb where nothing ever happened and everyone was judgmental and opinionated and hated everyone who disturbed the status quo.

“Aren’t they all like that?” You asked, one eye sliding shut in a mischievous wink as you raised both brows in question.

“Yeah, I’m sure they are.”

Then he asked you about how you ended up in Hawkins, of all the places you could have picked, as he taped up the headlight that you'd cracked.

"It was fate or something. Had to bring me here so I could meet you right?" He sputtered over a response to that and you just laughed. "Actually, I just picked a place on a map. Pick two places. Flip a coin. That's how I pick most places I’ve been, you know?"

You took the opportunity to spin a tale about the so-called "perpetual roadtrip" that you'd embarked for the past year. His heart soared to hear that you’d been “practically everywhere” and he nodded eagerly when you offered to show him your sketchbook sometime with drawings of your favorite places.

"I know I need to go home at some point," you explained with a dismissive wave of your hand. "I guess I just don't know how to...stop driving. I've started this thing recently where I settle down somewhere for a little while. Maybe a few weeks? Maybe more. Get a job, get to know the people. Then I get to like...the final page of that chapter--the end of my little story in that place--and it's time for me to move on again.

"Actually, I guess it's not moving onto the next chapter; it's more like I've been written into a corner. I just...don't know what it is that I'm looking for. What it is that I need."

Eddie snorted to himself.

How many times had he asked himself what deity wrote his story into a pathetic corner where he couldn't leave Hawkins? And here you were feeling the same, only you were stuck in another way.

"Well...I hope you don't move on from Hawkins too quickly," he said, full of naive hope. "Maybe you'll find what you need here."

"Hmm," you rested your chin on your knees and sighed. "You know what? I kinda hope so too."

There was a lot of weight in your gaze as you watched him, and Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly and continued his inspection of the outside of the car so he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself with a mushy smile or a giggle.

He made his way back to the trunk and the bumper stickers; it was then that he asked about Cicely.

"Alaska? Seriously? You drove all the way up there?"

"Ok listen," you said with a conspiratorial grin. "I'm maybe a little bit of a phony. I traded someone for that one. This guy in a diner in Washington."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Damn fine cup of coffee." You snorted to yourself, some inside joke that he wished to be a part of.

"Is that, uh...a perpetual roadtrip thing?"

"I…I guess it is."

Finally, to end his self-proclaimed "ten-point inspection," Eddie got into the driver's seat to start the car, chatting all the while.

"Well, if you want a damn fine cup of coffee, there's this diner nearby that I swear makes the best. I know I haven't driven past Chicago or anything but..."

He trailed off as he turned the key in the ignition and noticed the odometer.

Your miles were in the millions.

Several million, at that.

He had half a mind to call you on your shit that you'd never been to Alaska because, surely, you had to have been with that high a number, but then he began to question the sight. He didn't think his odometer even went that high; none of the cars he'd ever seen went into the millions.

Was it just a Volkswagen thing? Or maybe a bi-product of you being here? A wrinkle in the fabric of reality?

Eddie tried to do the mental math but he couldn't figure out how many times you must have circled the states to hit that many miles. Or for how long.

A million miles divided by 365 days divided by 12 hours of driving in a day? He couldn’t do that much math without his head hurting. Still, it just didn't make sense. Maybe it was just broken?

"Everything alright?" you suddenly appeared at the door, teeth worrying your lower lip. You laughed but it didn’t quite meet your eyes. "You were just saying something about coffee and then you got all quiet. I don't need a new transmission or something do I?"

“You…” Eddie swallowed and stared at you, wondering if he should point out the odometer, if he should ask. Bur hadn't that been his problem just a few hours ago? Too many questions, too little time. Why was he going to pick this wonderful thing apart when he finally got what he deserved and yearned for all along.

“You...probably need an oil change,” he announced instead. “It sounds a little clunky. I, uh, can do it for you but I’ll need to stop by Thatcher Tires for some supplies.”

Your shoulders lost their tension and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Eddie, you’re seriously trying to be my hero, huh?” You fawned; hearing his name from your lips, let alone the fact you called him a hero, made his day. His year. Possibly his entire life. “You wanna fix everything else that’s wrong with my life?”

“I could try,” he offered eagerly.

“Don’t, I’ll seriously take you up on the offer.” You pressed your hands to your cheeks then looked back at the trailer. “Ok tell you what, give me like…20 minutes to get the road off of me and change. Then we can go to Thatcher Tires and you can show me this place with the best cup of coffee? And I can get you breakfast or something?”

Eddie was speechless again; were you…asking him out? Ok no you were just showing your gratitude, but it was a first step. Was everything going according to plan for the first time in his life?

He couldn’t count everything that happened in ‘84 for obvious reasons.

You noticed his hesitation and your eyes went wide.

“Unless you had other plans or someplace to be? I’ve already taken up enough of your time—“

“No!” He shouted and then backtracked to be a little softer. “I…no, there’s nothing else I have to do today. I’m…I’m all yours sweetheart.”

The rest of the day went by without a hitch.

And it truly was the rest of the day that you spent together.

It was almost too good to be true.

Eddie acted as chauffeur and self-proclaimed tour guide of Hawkins. He pointed out specific landmarks you'd need to know as he passed them: the town center, the grocery store, the post office.

"In case you want to send letters home or anything." He glanced your way slyly, hoping to maybe get some excited response about your friends back home, but you hummed noncommittally and turned your attention to the radio instead.

The rest of the ride to Benny's was spent swatting at each other's hands and bickering as you discussed music. When he mentioned that he had a band, you were awestruck, and Eddie's chest puffed with pride.

"Ok," you nodded appreciatively. "I see it now. The whole alt. metal wannabe rockstar thing. It suits you."

"You're gonna take back the whole wannabe rockstar thing when I write a song about you and it's a chart-topper," he teased.

"What's it gonna be about? My loser neighbor crashed her car, she held me hostage at the...dine-ar." You winced at the bad rhyme, but Eddie thought it was adorable. "Obviously I'm no Shakespeare. Please don't consider that my interview to be your songwriter."

You'd surprised Eddie by ordering an omelet instead of your usual, so Eddie, quick on his feet, ordered your usual instead and surprised you.

"Are you a mind reader? I always get that," you confessed. "I was just so tired last night, I figured I needed something a little more substantial."

Once the food arrived, though, you stared longingly at Eddie's strawberry and whipped cream covered pancakes. He took mercy on you and slid his plate to the middle of the table so you could take a few bites. You mirrored him with your own plate and he snagged a couple of bites of eggy, hammy, cheesy goodness.

You butt heads good-naturedly when it came time to dress up the plate of hash browns that came with your omelet. You wanted to keep it simple with salt and pepper, while he wanted them doused in ketchup. Back and forth, your forks clinked against each other's chosen condiment, over and over, until it was a veritable sword fight over the side dish.

"Stop it Eddie! They're so nice and crispy, don't ruin them."

"It won't ruin them. What are you saying right now? That you just don't like ketchup? You're breaking my heart."

"Some things are meant to be enjoyed in their pure and undisturbed state. Keep your filthy tomato goop away from my potatoes!"

The two of you laughed all the while, and Eddie swore it was the most fun he had outside of Hellfire in...quite some time.

Benny, who was also amused by your antics but not enough to listen to it for the rest of the morning, decided enough was enough and brought another plate of hash browns, "on the house if it'll prevent a food fight," before he retreated back to the kitchen.

The trip to Thatcher Tires was quick, and then the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon outside of your trailer again, chatting away as Eddie changed your oil. You sat on your stoop and doodled in your sketchbook as he regaled you with stories of his friends and his favorite haunts around Hawkins.

Granny had come out at one point to say hello and promised a welcome-to-the-park casserole, but after she left you noticed how he'd gotten a little sad and asked him what was wrong.

Eddie told you about Ronnie then, how much he missed her. How it was like missing a whole...bite had been taken out of his side when she finally left for college.

It felt like the easiest thing in the world--telling you everything and having you listen--because he'd already done it before, so many times. Only now, you were able to respond; he could look over and see you smile or laugh at one anecdote or another. Or offer some advice about your own friends who you missed. You didn't even judge him when he mentioned he was on his second repeat senior year; you just told him about your own story as an almost-drop-out.

You understood. You saw him. Just like he knew you would.

At some point late in the afternoon, as the sky began to take pink and orange hues and people started coming home from work, Eddie reluctantly called an end to your day together.

"I took up all of your time," he admitted bashfully, hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm sure you have a million things to take care of."

"I mean yeah," you shrugged. "But one day won't hurt. And it was a really good day."

"It was."

"Thanks for everything Eds." You immediately made a face and he laughed. "Eds? No. Ed...Eddie. God, sorry, I hate the whole figuring-out-the-nickname thing. So weird. Thanks for everthing Eddie."

"Yeah don't mention it," he chuckled.

It was a real midwest goodbye as you loitered at the bottom of your steps, prolonging both of your departures. A promise to bring over that tape he said he'd let you borrow, or to come share in Granny's proffered casserole when you finally received it.

Then finally, when you were practically in the door of your trailer, you turned around and stared at him, worrying your lip with your teeth as you often did.

"You know, I wasn't the valedictorian or anything, that's my best friend Sam," you shuffled your feet and paused for a minute. "But if you ever need help with homework or anything..."

"Yeah," he agreed a little too quickly, eager to get more time with you. "No, yeah...that sounds...great."

"I'm pretty good at history," you went on. "I have a crazy memory, you wouldn't even realize."

"No that sounds great, I'm, uh...failing history right now, actually," he admitted.

"Perfect! You know where to find me."

"It's a dat--study session!" He caught himself quickly, but not quick enough. He felt the heat building in his cheeks as you covered your mouth in a giggle. "Ignore me. Ignore that. I'm just gonna go...yeah."

And then, it was like in the movies. The angels were singing, birds chirping, the slowly dying sun beamed brightly on you as you opened your mouth and said:

"It can be a date if you want it to be. I had a lot of fun today, so I, uh, think that would be pretty great actually."

It was everything Eddie ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed.

A real date. With the real, very real, definitely not fictional girl of his dreams.

He smiled the biggest smile he ever had, big enough to rival a shark, that's how happy he was.

"It's a date, then."

Next Chapter: Out of Character

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[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 10

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Nagisa Ran (Ensemble Stars)

"- autistic - grew up very isolated - nonbinary. to me. - they had a speech impediment veeeery similar to the one i used to have and their current speaking patterns are very similar to the way i speak - we both have a special interest in geology - i'd list more but the rest are just autism symptoms so. uhhh"

Waver Velvet (Fate series /The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II)

No propaganda

Shuichi Saihara (Danganronpa V3)

"sorry for submitting a danganronpa character but hear me out!! there's many reasons shuichi is a relatable character, such as: 1. he's def lgbtq+ actually. in the free time events with kaito momota (another male character), shuichi's inner monologue says "only someone like him could tell me what i need to hear." before he internally scolds himself saying he "shouldn't talk about another boy like that" 2. self doubt. throughout the game, he doubts his detective skills a lot. well, in earlier chapters. he grows out of it but yk. he feels like he isn't a "real detective" n all 3. a. autism. throughout the entire prologue and chapter 1, he wears a hat to avoid eye contact. while there is an actual reason that isn't autism, i still think that's autism behavior. also he seemingly knows a lot about true crime and at one point, when another character brings up the victorian era, he responds by mentioning jack the ripper. 4. he's very sad. chapter 1? cries. chapter 3? cries. chapter 5? cries. chapter 6? cries. he might've cried other times i don't remember though. although it is fair bc people are dying. but even outside of the death, he is sad. refer to number 2. also he feels like he shouldn't have solved the case that made him the ultimate detective. (there are reasons for that. also linked to the hat.) and more"

Opossums (real life)

"Nocturnal creatures that just like wanna chill and eat, plus they have to lay down when really stressed, they are like me for real."

Midori Takamine (Ensemble Stars!! Music)

"- literally just some guy that gets dragged into things (accidentally became an idol somehow) - his only real interests are mascot characters and vegetables + he finds talking to people bothersome - all of his friends are extroverted or very friendly while midori is just… there. - cringefail loser who can’t talk to people without being nervous despite being a 5’10 giant and an idol (179cm), only really talks a lot when discussing mascots - depressed, just straight up clinical depression but its ok cause he’s working on it and doesn’t let it get him too down"

Seven of nine (Star Trek)

"seven of nine is a big ball of identity questioning in one person. she literally has a whole section on her wiki page titled "identity crises". mood. as a child she's snatched up and made part of a hivemind, all these cyborg augments put into her, the usual scifi stuff. but her story begins when she's freed. against her will, even if it's ultimately for the best. she has no idea how to relate to these people, how to speak or act or dress or sound. big autism mood. big trans mood. big gay mood, because she has no idea what anyone is supposed to do when dating and it turns out she's into women and ends up with a girlfriend so it's no wonder she couldn't connect to all the lessons about boyfriends and the attempt to date a man! multiple times she's forced to assimilate and act more "human" and change her name but she won't! and the people who make an effort to understand end up important found family and friends. and she ends up in control of her own life and a captain!! legend."

[foxhopfics]

First off thank u SO MUCH to everyone in that post going "tag me too pls!" Im writing this for u i love u :) it makes me happy that so many people were interested in this concept.

This fic will be available on AO3, but whenever a new chapter comes out I will post the new ao3 link with the chapter under a readmore cut.

Hope you guys enjoy the prologue!

Strontium Nitrate and a Colt .45 prologue

Warnings: family death

A violent, cracking storm whirls in Eddie as he watches his ex-wife be lowered into the earth by 4 men on either side of her coffin. The flowers on the top shift precariously white, blue, yellow and red popping out against the dark wood grain, but they remain on as it clunks onto the ground. It shouldn't be so bright. The sun wasn't supposed to be shining the day he had to put his wife into the ground.

It's all he can do to just keep his hand firm on Christopher's shoulder to not cry, and scream, and run towards that fucking hole and dig her back up, begging her to come back to life in his arms. There were a million and one ways Eddie had expected Shannon to die one day. An accident by a stranger's hand hadn't been one of them. There were so many dangers he had to account for in his every day life, he was bound to slip up at one point. Bound to lose someone he cared about to a stupid mistake.

He's numb through the reception, fingers gripping the sides of his own sleeves so hard he has to peel them off from stiffness, and he's vacant through his family asking him question after question. He doesn't know how to answer if he's ok in front of people who are expecting him to be strong, expecting him to be the man of the house when his son just lost his mother, when he wishes more than anything he was lying in that coffin next to her.

When he can't stomach the pleasantries any longer, he takes Chris home. It's obvious the kid's had enough poking and prodding, and the silence is blessed. He checks the rearview mirror, and not five minutes after they pull out of the reception hall, Chris is drooling with his head against the window. The brunette smiles forlornly. He can see so much of Shannon in him, always had been able to, but now it felt like every trait of hers on him is more pronounced.

He wakes Chris up when they reach home, and Eddie has to stand in the doorway for a second to wait for his ears to adjust to the ringing quiet, when he's been around so much noise all day. Who knew funerals could be so loud. It definitely wasn't helped by the static rushing so loud in Eddie's ears he had to strain to hear other people talking at him. But now neither of them can bother to bring their voices above a whisper.

"Go get ready for bed, kiddo. I'll be there in a minute." He ushers Chris off to do his nightly chores and steps in to flick the kitchen light on. He sighs, leaning his elbows on the counter and his face into his hands. He musses his hair, and rubs down his face in an attempt to wipe the stress away. He doesn't know how long he'll continue to feel like he's floating, tether-less in space until the emotions of what happened catch up to him. He hopes Chris isn't in the vicinity when it happens.

There's time to figure this all out. Tomorrow. He hears the bathroom door open and close again as Chris shuffles off to his room. He takes his turn in the bathroom, not having enough energy for a full shower even though he feels like he needs it. Instead, he lets the water from the sink run so hot it scalds his finger when he tests it. He pulls out a washcloth from the drawer, soaks it and wrings it out, then wipes his face down of all the grime that doesn't exist. Nevertheless he feels cleaner and a tiny, minuscule weight slides off his shoulders. He finishes his business and shuffles his lead-weighted feet off to his son's bedroom.

Chris is already in his pyjamas and under the covers, his face red and puffy and struggling to keep his eyes open. Eddie sits himself by his legs on the edge of the bed, running a soothing hand through his boy's curls. Neither of them say anything, a lump forming in Eddie's throat and leaving no thoughts in his head when he tries to get something out.

Chris takes the first initiative. "Why did she have to go, daddy?" At first, Eddie doesn't have an answer that's acceptable to a 5 year old. Because bad things happen to good people. Because fuck him, apparently. Fuck him and her and everything he was trying to build for them and fuck God for taking it all away from him. He swallows hard, trying not to gag on his own tear-filled spit as he tries not to let it show on his face.

"Sometimes people do dumb things. And when people do dumb things, others get hurt because of their actions. And this time, someone did something dumb, and mommy was the one who got hurt by their actions." Chris nods sleepily, exhausted and upset. Eddie leans down to give him a kiss on his temple. "Get some sleep kiddo. Come and wake me up if you need anything, but we can figure out more tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok, love you daddy. Night night."

"Night night, buddy."

Tag list: @aniilaff @watchyourbuck @diazlilgirl @weballingsad @whambamthankyousir @passthe5sauceplease @mrslectermoriarty @jeffthekilled

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Prologue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which Loki decides to forge his own path. Chapter Warnings: none :) A/N: Welcome to the start of my new mini series! The idea came from the Send Me a Fic Title ask game. This was a title sent in by @lokistan​! Hope you enjoy!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​ @mythicalgarlicknot​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @marvelouslovely​ @laurenandloki​ @fallinallinmendes​ @sophlubbwriting​ @mooncat163​ 

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake​ @electroma89​ @stardust-walker​ @i-would-kneel-for-loki​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki wondered what his cell on Asgard would look like, for surely he’d be transferred there any day now. For three days now, he’d been held in the belly of a SHIELD base in these ridiculous cuffs. Tony had, at least, sent down that drink Loki had asked for. Whether it was a taunt or a small bit of kindness, Loki honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, he’d downed it in one gulp; Midgardian alcohol never having a strong effect on him. Honestly, he probably should have been concerned if it was poisoned or not. Then again, after everything he’d been through, what did he care?

“Brother,” Loki greeted Thor as he walked into view. “How lovely of you to finally grace me with your presence. Though I take it this is not a leisure visit, hm?”

“You know full well it is not,” the God of Thunder replied with a stern tone.

“And here I was so hoping we could catch up.”

“If you want to talk, then talk, Loki. Explain yourself. What has transpired that you have attacked so many innocent people in this way?”

Loki wanted to laugh at that. Innocent? Who was Thor to talk of innocent with all the unrighteous battles he’d fought, all the blood spilled by his hands? The God of Mischief had done what? Attacked a military base? Made a few people kneel? Corralled a few groups into buildings? Which really was for the own safety so they wouldn’t be in the way of the battles on the streets. But no; conquest was apparently only just when Odin decided to do it. When Thor wanted to follow in his footsteps. But for Loki, there was a whole other set of rules. Of course, no one ever bothered to outline them for the trickster, just let him know he failed to obey them.

Besides, he hadn’t been in his right mind. Rather, he’d been under the mind stone’s influence, under Thanos’s control. He worked his jaw as he tried to figure out whether to say that or not. If he had any sense of self preservation, he probably would have. Yet after living his whole life being told he was weak, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Whether Asgardian culture, his family, or he himself were to blame for that, he wasn’t sure. Still, best just to stick with his wit.

“Pardon, brother,” Loki finally replied. “If it bothers you that much, I will stop following your example.”

“You dare insinuate I would do such a thing?” Thor rhetorically asked, appalled and shocked now that his honor was called into question. “Truly, brother, your mind is far more twisted than I had imagined. I see now I should not have advocated for you; you are too far gone. And yet, I already have, so your second chance you shall have.”

“How benevolent,” Loki rolled his eyes.

In reality, Loki was actually kind of touched Thor had spoken on his behalf. It was more than he expected from the blonde. Though, he had a feeling he hadn’t been spoken of in the most flattering light. Regardless, Thor opened his cell and, accompanied by a couple agents, led him to the upper floors of of the base.

The light blinded Loki for a minute as he saw sunlight for the first time since he’d been locked up. The glares passing agents gave him did significantly less to burn him, though. He was used to scorn. Of course, he did feel a wave of regret as he realized he’d probably killed some of their colleagues, their friends. Even if he didn’t have control of himself, he’d still done it. Why did he have to be so weak as to let Thanos gain control of his mind, he wondered? Such horrid deeds had never been in his nature before, though it seemed Thor was ready to believe he’d been evil all along.

The brothers were silent the whole way to Fury’s office, even as they waited for the director to come in. From his seat in front of the desk, Loki surveyed the office. Nice enough, he mused, but could use some more color. Maybe some drapes. Loki wondered if he should laugh that that’s what he was thinking. Though, in all honesty, it might be a chuckle of relief, knowing that his thoughts were finally his own again.

When the director did finally walk in, he and Loki just eyed each other for a moment, sizing the other up. Loki was fairly confident he could get out of this room, out of this base, if he really wanted to. But what was even the point? He wasn’t particularly interested in playing a game of cat and mouse, as SHIELD would try desperately to recover him. No, he’d rather take whatever punishment was about to be doled out. At least for now, anyway.

“Well, thank you for having me,” Loki quipped, being the first to break the silence. “I am afraid I have never been much good at small talk, though. How about that weather?”

“Funny,” Fury deadpanned. “Glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor when you killed my men.”

Loki’s smile faltered ever so slightly. It seemed like people were going to keep bringing that up despite that it had not even been his intention to kill anyone. Injure and temporarily dispose of, sure, but not kill. He supposed that having been on the verge of collapse himself, he wasn’t able to be as precise as he usually was.

“That little stunt you pulled should have you locked up for life,” Fury continued before Loki could respond. “However, we are prepared to offer you a deal. You are going to work for SHIELD to make up for your crimes.”

“Ah. I see. So gracious of you. And my other options are?”

“You come with me back to Asgard,” Thor chimed in, “and father can do whatever he wants with you.”

Well, that created three possible paths, really, Loki figured. Be sent to Asgard and locked up there was option one. Then the second was to be sent back and killed. Was it bad he kind of hoped for the latter? Oh, it definitely was. Yet, that’s how he felt. And then he could stay here, play along until the opportunity came to break free. Live his life as he wanted for once.

“Alright,” Loki agreed with a smile that he was sure would be seen as more untrustworthy than anything else. “When do I begin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week of tedious lectures later, Loki was out in the field. He’d listened with rapt attention as he’d undergone his brief training. And somehow they deemed him trustworthy enough to send on a mission already. So, here he was in a Quinjet with his fellow agents. Maybe they didn’t entirely trust him. After all, Clint kept eyeing him with something akin to murder in his gaze.

Still, once they touched down, Loki followed the procedures he’d been taught. Thankfully, they hadn’t trusted him with any of the more important jobs, just securing the perimeter. That, of course, was a mistake on their part. As soon as it was time to break apart from the others, Loki created a double of himself. Meanwhile, he causally strutted over to a nearby motorcycle. Ok, he had to admit he didn’t really know how to ride one, but he’d make do.

Loki’s drive was surprisingly smooth as he escaped his would-be employers. The joke was on them for trying to tie him down, he thought. It was actually rather freeing to be racing along the open road, wind in his raven-black hair. Maybe he could find a nice little secluded home somewhere and live the rest of his days out in peace. And then he saw a burning building. Really, he should just keep going. You Midgardians had forces to deal with this. And yet, something made him pull over and rush inside, saving those he found trapped by the flames.

“I can never thank you enough,” a lady blubbered as she clung to her child, who Loki had just saved. “Please, what’s your name? How can I repay you?”

“You can call me, Loki,” he replied with a charming grin. “And really, no thanks necessary. It is just what I do.”

And as he rode off again, Loki decided he was going to make that last statement true. Look out, Midgard, he thought to himself. Looks like you have got yourself a new superhero.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (1)

Chapter One- A post-Blip world

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Post-Blip, you find yourself more alone than ever as old friends are forever gone. You and Bucky struggle with finding life's purpose while trying to move on.

Warnings: Angst. A lot of guilt and self-blaming. Spoiler for ep 1 if you haven't seen it!

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: Here's the first chapter of the series! Check out the prologue if you have not done so! It gives you an insight into the OC's background and history with Bucky before TFATWS.

Hope you enjoy this read!

Opening up a tag list for the first time since I have gotten a request! Message or comment to let me know!

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

Previous: Prologue | Next: Chapter Two |

-------------------------//---------------------------

Present-day

Bucky felt his heart stopped for a moment when he realised what he was about to do to the terrified man from his dreams. Before he could imagine the next scene, his eyes flew wide open and he immediately sat up.

Assessing his surroundings to see that the television was still on, he realised he was home and have woken up from a nightmare. Even though Hydra’s brainwashing has been removed, the memories from his dark past continued to plague him.

The summer blanket you got for him pooled around his waist, his right hand reached out to give it a soft squeeze. The soft texture of the fabric comforted him emotionally as he sat on the cold hard floor. As he regained steady breathing, he looked around to see that it was still the early hours of the night.

He reached out for his flip phone- the one you couldn’t believe he insisted to buy over a regular smartphone. Pressing the buttons, he went to his inbox to see an unread message from you. Bucky contemplated opening it but decided to continue when he decided he wanted to hear from you.

Ever since the blip occurred, the days and weeks seemed to be a blur. Sooner than he realised, six months had just passed like that.

When Steve decided to go back to the past for good, all three of you including Sam were at a sudden loss. Bucky was disappointed but not surprised at Steve’s decision. Sam wanted the best for Steve and showed his support.

However, you were the most affected out of the group. He knew that despite putting a brave front, you were struggling with the loss of your friends in a short span of time. After all, you had spent a good amount of time with the Avengers and had a developed a close relationship with most of the team.

Bucky remembered how you immediately slumped to the floor when you heard the news about Natasha. You were at a loss of words before you started to break down when Steve went to comfort you. You always regarded Natasha as an older sister so her death hit you hard.

He recalled how you held back your tears at Tony’s funeral as you did not want to further bring down the atmosphere when Pepper and Morgan were there. He remembered how Tony was like an annoying but endearing older brother.

When Steve was disappeared from his spot, you didn’t think much of it thinking he would return in a matter of seconds after returning the stones. However, when all three of you looked to see an ageing Steve, you were the first to run up to him. Despite the astonishing expression that painted your face, you reached out to hold Steve’s hands to check if he was real.

Steve’s decision to pass Sam the shield was no surprise to Bucky. Even though Bucky found Sam irritating at times, Bucky knew he was a good man.

While you chose to accept Steve’s choice, it started to sink into your mind that the people once closest to you were gone or getting further. Bucky remembered how you were reluctant to let Steve walk away and Steve let you hold onto him longer.

You and Bucky decided to not let each other be alone that night. You two figured that at least you had each other and you wanted to cherish that.

-------------------—---//----------------------------

Moving forward, Sam had decided to find work with the U.S air force. Sam checked in on Bucky from time to time but Bucky contemplated to respond. After being pardoned for his past, Bucky found himself compensated but he still felt like a prisoner.

He was required to attend court-mandated therapy sessions to make sure he was doing well. You know that it was just a way for the government to have him under surveillance and in check.

He might be the oldest prisoner of war but he was still a super soldier and one with a vibranium arm. Bucky knew he was still deemed as dangerous in their eyes.

When you and Bucky discussed how to move forward, he confided that he wanted to make amends and you showed your support. When he asked about you, you seemed hesitant and a little lost for an answer.

The Avengers are gone. There was no more S.H.I.E.L.D.

Who were you now? What are you fighting for? What is going to be your purpose moving forward? These were all the questions swimming in your head.

You were reluctant to tell Bucky yet but a government official had paid you a visit while you were waiting for Bucky to finish his therapy session.

You were offered a position in a task force to maintain global security in light of a post-blip world. Given your abilities, you were viewed as an invaluable asset. However, you knew better than to take their words for it.

Revealing your hesitance, the official took a harder approach and laid out the truth. You were viewed as a potential threat if you were to not co-operate with the government. You are an unsupervised enhanced individual that is roaming freely. They do not want to allow that in the event that you were to do anything out of your own jurisdiction.

It was the Sokovia Accords all over again, you thought. The official added that you no longer had the Avengers team to fall back on. His words only added to the ache in your heart as you were reminded of your lost friends.

Additionally, he let off that Wanda had been involved in an event that caused the government to review their management of enhanced individuals in the country. Wanda was out of their reach but you were still around. They knew that you have been sticking by Bucky and thus decided to come for you.

Remembering Steve's words from the times of the civil war between the Avengers, you were not able to let yourself trust any words that the official said.

You didn’t want to let yourself be controlled especially by the government whom you knew had hidden agendas that they would not reveal to you. Their words of praises of how you would be a great addition made you felt like you would be nothing more than a tool in their master plans.

“What if I refuse?” You spoke to the official. The official's eyes hardened and his jaw clenched.

“Then Ms L/N, we will have to view you as a threat to national and global security.” You scoffed at his words when you stared dead into his eyes.

“You forgot that I was one of the many to help fight Thanos and brought the world back. This is how you decided to treat me after giving my service to this country? To this world?” You shot back in distaste.

You turned your back on the guy and walked off without giving him a chance to answer.

--------------------------//--------------------------

Hey Buck, I managed to find Wanda and decided to accompany her for a bit. She needs someone now.

I will let you know when I am back.

Don’t miss me too much ok! ;)

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face at your last sentence. He missed you but he knew that you had things to attend to. He understood how much you valued your remaining friends. Wanda, being one of them.

-----------------—-----//---------------------———

Bucky sighed when he realised that he was not going to get away easy with today’s therapy session. Dr Raynor was really trying to push his buttons and even took out her darn notebook again.

That ticked Bucky off the most and he reluctantly gave in. He began to share about how he crossed another name on his list of amends. Dr Raynor then gave her opinion about how even making amends wasn’t able to help with his nightmares.

Bucky continued to deny that he had any at all but he knew Dr Raynor was not convinced. Glimpsing down briefly with an unconvinced look, Dr Raynor looked back up to Bucky.

“Look. One day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.”

“I trust people.” Not all but maybe just one. Only one person came to his immediate thought.

“Yeah, give me your phone.” Dr Raynor put aside her notebook before reaching over to take Bucky’s phone from him. As she searched up his contact list, she remarked that there wasn’t even ten numbers in it.

“Oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships.” She spoke before noting that she was the only person Bucky called all week and how sad it was.

Dr Raynor was going to continue before she stopped herself. She opened up the chat with your name and read your last message to Bucky.

“What about Y/N?”

“What about her?” Bucky retorted.

“Seems like she’s someone you are close to?” Dr Raynor tried to imply something.

“She’s a friend,” Bucky answered firmly. Dr Raynor gave Bucky a glance before probing further. “I’ve seen her around before when she accompanied you at the beginning of your session. She seems nice.”

“She is,” Bucky answered curtly once more before deciding to shoot back, knowing his therapist was trying to probe more than he was willing to share. “What are you insinuating, doc?”

“Nothing. I am glad you at least have one friend. But you need to make more connections with other people.” Dr Raynor tried explaining. Bucky drifted off in his thoughts for a moment, thinking about how he didn’t need more people. He was fine with just you but he didn’t want to let on more than he wanted to.

He didn’t feel the need to explain about his relationship with you when you knew you two were solid. Bucky sighed internally when his therapist asked him what he wanted. Bucky thought of the calm and peace he had in Wakanda, his mind replaying the moments of you and him living a carefree life on the farm.

When he was told that he was finally free, he questioned “to do what?”. Was he ever truly free? The memories from his past, the long list of amends he had in his notebook. Could he ever truly be free from the guilt that constantly plagues him?

As Bucky made his way back to his apartment, he spotted his neighbour, Yori arguing with another neighbour, Unique over the trash. He reassured that he could take care of Yori to this Unique fellow before catching up with the grumbling old man in the alley.

Bucky convinced him that he would give a treat at their usual sushi place and that managed to pacify Yori’s mood.

-------------—-----——//---------------------——

When they were at Izzy’s, Yori mentioned how no one made it past 90 years in the obituary of the newspaper. The familiar waitress came up to the two and remarked if they were feeling adventurous since they did not order the usual.

Giving him a slight smirk, Yori suggested that Bucky should ask her out. Bucky immediately shook his head and gave Yori a bewildered look like he was crazy.

“Why not? Are you seeing that pretty friend of yours that always come to visit?” Bucky knew Yori was referring to you and immediately tried to refute the notion.

“Y/N’s just a friend.”

“Could have convinced me otherwise. You two seem really close.” Yori scoffed at Bucky’s statement.

“Such a pity. If I were 50 years younger, I would have made a move already.” Bucky chuckled at how Yori, despite being a grumpy senior most of the times, actually tried to make a witty joke. He silently agreed that you were indeed a catch and how it was crazy you have not been with anyone.

Well then again, you have always been with him all this while. Of course, as a friend, Bucky tried to convince himself that there was no way he would have a shot with you. You were too good for him and you definitely deserved someone better.

Even though he tried to convince himself, Bucky does not know what to do if you had managed to find someone and will eventually leave him to be on his own. He shook himself out of his inner thoughts and before he knew it, Yori spoke to the waitress.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” Bucky’s eyes shot wide open when he realised what Yori had actually done. Bucky tried to apologise on behalf of Yori for his bizarre behaviour but the waitress did not seem to mind. In fact, she was game and agreed.

After she went off to attend to other customers, Bucky shook his head and couldn’t believe Yori actually became his wingman. Yori then suddenly went silent for a moment. Bucky was nervous before hearing how Yori spoke of his beloved son who had passed away due to an incident.

Bucky listened intently with the guilt gnawing in his gut, his heart heavy with all of the weight of the world.

------———------------//------------------------—

Bucky convinced himself to go on the date with Leah. He decided to give himself the chance to make more connections as Dr Raynor had advised. The date was going well in fact. Leah seemed like a great gal but Bucky felt himself holding back.

There were just too many secrets he was holding in. What would she think if she knew who he really was? Would she even want to be in the same room as him then?

While he tried the whole online dating thing (much to your masked disappointment and amusement), he was not convinced if he could really make a romantic connection with anyone. Who was he kidding? Could he ever?

When the topic of conversation turned to Yori, the overwhelming sensation started to descend onto Bucky’s consciousness. Before he could stop, he immediately tapped out. Giving a pathetic excuse, Bucky rushed back to Yori’s apartment and had the urge to tell him the truth.

However, when he saw the altar that Yori had dedicated to his son, Bucky withdrew himself. He did not want to lose a friend in Yori even though he was dying to say the truth.

Bucky pretended to come up with an excuse to a confused Yori by paying his half of lunch before stalking off. When Bucky returned to his place, he opened up his notebook and stared at Yori’s name.

What was he to do?

A ring on his phone averted his intense thoughts and he reached for his phone.

Hey Buck, I am done on my side.

Would be back soon!

Can’t wait to see you again, missed you!

Bucky clutched his phone tighter and brought it close to his heart. He started counting down the hours till he could welcome you back in his arms.

-------------———----//------------------------——

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal  (Prologue)

Series Summary: You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings (for the entire series): +18 only, smut, casual sex, Bucky is a whore, boytoy!Bucky and proud, acquaintances to fuck buddies to maybe lovers, fluff, eventual angst, mention to past relationship, break-up.

A/N: I was going to write something for Looking for a Heartbeat universe, but this idea came up and I was so excited. This is me trying my hand at romantic comedy. It’ll be very smutty but there’ll be angst eventually because it’s me. This version of Bucky is different from everything I’ve written before, but I think this is one of the beauties of this character. He’s so nuanced and layered, there’s always a new version of him to be explored. I hope you guys like it and stick with me. I’m planning 10 chapters, but the number may change.  The link to the my masterlist is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. @lesqui​ you’re a Rockstar.

When Natasha bursts into his apartment - like she’s done many many times before- holding up a big cup of coffee, the first thing that hits her is the smell lingering in the air, making her whole face scrunch up. The whole apartment stinks of  a fucking orgy and she doesn’t even get to act surprised or outraged. This is what it’s been like. Ever since Bucky started to get better, changing from the brooding shadow that had first arrived to regaining his self-confidence, he’s been spending it and his whole package of super soldier stamina like that. A new night a new girl. Or two… she realizes when she spots the pair of different underwear over his couch as she makes her way to his bedroom.  Three? She shoots an eyebrow high at the sight of a third one hanging around the doorknob.

She would die before touching the damn thing and, because she’s also always up for a little show, she decides to use one of her signature moves to make herself into his bedroom. A powerful  kick to the door is enough to have the effect she wanted : three different tones of high-pitched screams and a low groan fills the room.  

Natasha doesn’t need to say anything. Just her steady, impassive demeanor while still in her Black Widow uniform from the last mission is enough to make the trio of naked bodies move. They  shoot themselves out of the bed and scramble to pick up pieces of clothes from the floor.

“Ugh, sorry, sweethearts.” Bucky’s voice is groggy with sleep and muffled by the pillow, “Thanks for last night, though, it was amazing.” He raises his thumb up but remains lying on his stomach, his very naked behind exposed,  completely unphased by Natasha’s presence.

The girls rush past her without even daring to  glance at the Avenger. Well, except for the owner of the underwear on the doorknob, who gives her much more than a glance in the shape of a shameless once over and a lustful wink before grabbing the piece of lacey and fleeing, putting it on along with her dress on her way.

With an exaggerated yawn, Bucky catches Natasha’s attention again and she steps into his room as he rolls over and sits on the mattress. At least he has the decency to pull a sheet to cover his front before he stretches his arm to the air letting out a second yawn, “What is it this time?” This is  definitely not the first time a scenario like that has taken place, to Natasha’s exasperation.

“Crowded around here, huh?” Walking over to him with a judging brow up, she hands him the coffee, which he promptly accepts, “Do you even know their names?”

“Sofia, Olivia, and Amanda,” he answers simply before taking a sip from the coffee,  “The one checking you out was Amanda, she’s nice, I think you’d like her, and you’ve seen them before here, just not the three of them together.” He smirks, raising a feigned innocent gaze from his cup to her.

Natasha chooses to ignore the answer in favor of letting a huff out, “We - and by we I mean Fury - missed you at the debriefing.” She glances around, trying to find a place she could sit without accidently making contact with any kind of… fluids. Spotting the armchair nearby, she shoots a questioning look at Bucky.

He presses his lips in a guilty fine line and shrugs, “I think you’re safe standing up.”

“You’re gross, you know that right?” She grimaces, crossing her arms in front of her. “How the hell did this happen, anyway? We got here around one  am from the mission.”

He shakes his head dismissively, “You know I have my ways and I needed to shake the stress off. Too much energy to spend.” 

“I can see that,” She laughs, “I mean…Three?

“You were there. It was a hard mission.” The corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he grins back at her.

“That it was,” she agrees, letting some air out in a puff, “And that’s why I’m here now. You weren’t picking your goddamn phone and Fury wants to debrief with you before he signs the reports.”

“Ugh,” Bucky rolls his eyes, blowing some steam out of his cup of coffee, “that guy... what a huge pain in the ass, right?”

Natasha catches the playful tone and shakes her head, holding back the smile, “You won’t make me bad talk him, you know that.”

She can’t keep the smile suppressed any longer when he lets his head fall back and laughs. Carefree and contagious. It took him a while to get there, but now? Laughters, giggles, and jokes are a part of who Bucky Barnes is. For that, she’s thankful.  

“Alright, just give me a minute,” he concedes, bringing his coffee back to his lips.

Watching him, her face turns a bit more serious. “How long will you keep this up, huh?” she asks, bringing her hands to her hips.  

With the back of his hand, he wipes a bit of coffee that slips from the corner of his mouth “What?” His forehead crinkles as his attention is focused on cleaning himself.

“This lifestyle of yours…” Natasha waves a hand around the room and over himself, “Don’t you ever want to… I don’t know… settle down for one woman or something like that?”

The confused expression that shifts Bucky’s face as he looks back at her is almost comical. “Why in the world would I do that?” He puts the cup of coffee on the nightstand, before standing up, wrapping the sheet around his waist. “This is so much fun, no strings attached… just good old exchange of fluids, enjoying one another’s bodies… and the next morning we’re off with our lives.” Ignoring the disapproval look on Natasha, he grins down at her, before passing by her to walk towards his closet.

“I know this might be a good deal for you, but what about the women you bring down here, is this fair with them?” Natasha insists.

“Ok, now listen,” Bucky turns back to her, pulling an underwear from the drawer, “All the girls I hook up with want the exact same thing I want, “ He leans down to put on the underwear under the sheet covering his lower half, before letting the white fabric pull down on the floor. “They’re here for the sex just as much as I am.” He turns back to the closet, fumbling with his clothes.

“Aren’t you going to take a shower?”

“Fury needs me asap.” He deadpans, before continuing while putting on his jeans, “Not once I took advantage of anyone, I guarantee you that. I´m not fooling them, they’re not fooling me. It’s a fair deal. Perfect to be honest, pleasant, I mean very pleasant to both sides…” He smirks before raising his gaze filled with mischief from where he’s  buckling his belt to her, “You damn well know how good it- I can be…”

Her eyes roll at his smirk and she crosses her arms in front of her again. “That ship has sailed, Barnes.” It was just one time months ago and she knows she will never hear the end of it.

“Just saying…” Bucky shrugs, tying his hair back into a low bun, keeping the half smile on his lips, “Whenever you need to shake the stress off again, you can always count on me.” He winks.

“Yeah, right, go take a fucking shower and then we can talk.” Natasha grabs a pillow from his bed and throws at him. “Ok, I get it, I’m not an expert here and probably not the right person to be telling you this, but don’t you feel like you’re missing things? Or maybe that you’re hiding from something?” she suggests, walking past his bed to come closer to him.

“Nat, I swear… I’m not hiding from anything, there’s no hidden feelings or fears or anything like that… It’s just sex.” He states, sounding a bit more thoughtful with his friend’s worries , putting on a white t-shirt as she’s now just a few steps away from him. “People usually make a big deal about it, but that’s it. Sex is just sex. It’s fun and a fucking amazing experience to share with someone. And that’s it. Me and the women I spend time with are very sure about that. No worry.”  As he finishes dressing himself up, he places both hands on Natasha’s shoulders.

She aims a deadly glare at where he touches her, “I honestly can’t decide if you’re a pig or a genius, but right now take your  unwashed hands off of me.”

Bucky laughs, squeezing and shaking her shoulders halfheartedly, “I took a shower before I went to sleep, calm your damn titties.” He removes his hands anyway before placing a kiss on top of her head, gaining a hiss in exchange, “And a genius, of course.”

“All right,” Natasha says after glancing at her watch, “Nine. I still need a shower myself and at least a nap before Y/N drops by for lunch. You go see Fury now.” She commands, tapping his shoulder and already moving past him to the door.

“Oh, Y/n? From the tech department?” The peak of interest on his voice behind her doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha, “It’s been a while since I last saw her, how’s she? Still with that boyfriend of hers? What’s his name again?”

“Eddie. And no, they’ve broken up actually,” she answers, already opening the door to leave his apartment, “But don’t even think about it,” She warns, already sensing the smirk on his lips without even looking back at him, “She would never take one of your deals.” Natasha shuts the door before he could say anything else.

~~~

“Fuckbucket! Bumhole, son of motherfucker arseclowns! Goddamit nutsack!” The line of curses being spat out of your mouth is followed by you grabbing the bottle of tabasco and dropping almost half of its content over the plate of linguine in front of you.

Natasha says nothing, chewing her own pasta slowly as she stares you down, wondering how that combination of words could be the one to come up to your head when you wanted to swear. The small bistro is crowded and a few heads turn in your direction following your little – and kinda cute, if she’s going to be honest- outburst.

“Sorry…” Glancing around you seem to notice the brief but unwanted attention as your voice shrinks and your shoulders drop. “I asked for it fucking spicy, though,” you add in a mumble, only stressing the new curse, bringing a fork of linguine inside your mouth. You sigh, seeming finally pleased with the level of spice in it.

“Ok…” Nat drags the word as her eyes drop at the glass of wine in front of you. The second one already, “Bad day, I assume?”

A guttural and frustrated groan slips out of you as you swallow your food and take a long sip from the wine, “I’m just… ugh, everything sucks these days.” You place back the glass on the table a little more forcefully than it should be expected, your eyes following the move of your hand.

“Something at work?” Nat asks, “Do I need to talk to Tony?” She tilts her head, a hint of exasperation on her words.

“No, no. Of course not.” You wave a dismissive hand, “That lunatic is the best boss I could ever have asked for.” A quick but honest smile forms in your lips. 

“Alright…” Natasha accepts, “Eddie, then?” She tries again.

“No… sort of. I don’t know.” You sigh, now playing with the food in your plate as your jaw tightens.

“Talk…” Natasha orders, putting down her fork beside her plate and brushing her hands together, swallowing the food in her mouth. “Have you been seeing him at work? It’s been a while since I last saw him in the Tower.” She leans her head on her joined hands as she rests her elbows over the table, giving you her full attention.

“He’s been promoted to a leadership position at SHIELD’s tech department, that’s why you haven’t seen him.” You respond, still playing with your food, “I haven’t seen him either, not ever since we broke up, but I guess splitting up is doing wonders for him.” You bite your cheek.

“How long has it been already, three months?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“You miss him.” Natasha affirms rather than asks, a sweet comprehensive tone on her words as she crosses her forearms over the table, leaning forward. You two haven’t had the time to properly talk about your breakup, given Nat’s mission schedules and your own job, which can be a pain in the ass when it comes to work-hours.

“Of course, I do,” you say, looking up to the ceiling and shaking your head before moving your gaze to her again, “It’s like… I never saw it coming. Almost ten years of relationship… when he said he needed to talk I thought he was going to propose.” You scoff, covering your face with both hands in pure disbelief in yourself, “But instead he said he wanted a new path for his life. What the hell does that mean?” You raise your voice along with your arms to each side of you.  

“I hate to say this, dear.” Natasha grabs her glass of water and takes a sip before resuming, “But you know I’m not one to sugarcoat the truth and it probably means he’s fucking someone else…sorry.” She shrugs, knowing she could be sounding a little harsh, but she’s aware sometimes harshness is the right medicine.  

“Well, at least someone is getting fucked,” you mutter under your breath, while rolling the pasta in your fork to shove it your mouth.

The slipped comment sets off Natasha curiosity instantly and she just eyes you for a second before urging, “Well, elaborate.”

“Ugh… Jesus.” You grunt before taking in a deep breath, “You know, I do miss him in my life, but God… what has been killing me right now is,” you lean forward, getting closer to Nat as she mimics you, “I’m so fucking horny.”  You whisper as Natasha’s eyes grow round at your admission. You had never said anything like that to her before, you two are close friends but you’re always so reserved about your private life, “It’s been almost a year.”

“A year?” She whispers loudly, but lowers her voice as you quickly shush her, mortified someone would hear you two, “But…”

“Yeah, I know the break up was three months ago, but it doesn’t mean I was getting any before that,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice.  

“Oh, honey…” Natasha tilts her head, trying to convey empathy towards you rather than judgement.

“I know, right?” You smile sadly, leaning backwards in your chair, “How was I even surprised when things went south? I don’t even know what happened, to be honest. We just… stopped.” You shrug a shoulder, grabbing your fork to play with it absentmindedly, staring down at it, “And I was ok with it. At least I think I was,” You look back at Nat, who’s just listening to you attentively, “I guess I thought at least I had everything else. I don’t know...” You shake your head in a sign of disapproval of yourself, “But after we broke up?” Once again you lean over to whisper, “That’s all I think about. Almost everyone I see ends up in a fantasy of mine. Things I never even dreamed about wanting… I eat a fucking strawberry and suddenly I’m turned on.”  Your desperation is visible in your big, round eyes and audible in your rapid speech.

“Why don’t you go out, meet someone, then?” Natasha tries to hold back her laugh out of respect for you.  

“Ugh,” you wave her off, glancing to the side with a grimace, “Too much work. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready for anything else.” You shake your head, “I just want to fuck.” You add in a grunt, shaking your legs in a very bratty way.

“Oh, wow,” Nat leans back to her seat, “I never saw this coming.”

“Can I tell you something?” You say, after studying Nat. When she nods and leans closer to you again, you continue, keeping your voice low, “Eddie was the only one I ever been with.”

Natasha chokes on nothing and quickly grabs her cup of water, gulping in down to the last drop, “How the hell did this happen?” she yelps.

“Well, back in highschool I wasn’t really ready, and then in college I met Eddie.” You shrug, curling your lips down, “We’ve been together ever since. But after he broke up with me, that was one of the first things on my mind, the thought repeating itself like a parrot in my head. That I had never been with another man.”

“Hell, sis,” Nat exhales, “I’m starting to understand your situation now.”

“Ugh, Nat, seriously, I just need someone to fuck me senseless.” You tighten your teeth and make a grabbing gesture with your hands, “Just some primal, animalistic sex, I need someone, anyone who can take me properly. No strings attached…Nothing else, I’m tired of everything else.” You shut your eyes, shaking your head, before looking around you. Satisfied no one is staring or listening, you once again bends closer to Nat across the table, “Even thought about hiring a goddamn escort, but I just bought the condo with Eddie, and, until we figure this out, I’m broke as fuck.”  

Nat’s jaw drops. She’s speechless, utterly speechless. As you look back at her, a bit of shame but also expectancy gleaming in your eyes, a thought pops into Natasha’s mind. The universe must be playing with her, and that’s what she finally says to you. “Holy shit, the universe must be putting on a fucking joke on me.”

“Why?” You squint at her, “What do you mean?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. She ponders the thought for a moment. It might not be a bad idea, actually. Shaking some steam off, having a different and lighter experience with someone else, a little bit of fun… that might be exactly what you’re needing, and who could be more perfect for that? At least he’s someone Natasha trusts. She sure hopes so. “Are you serious about all of that? You’re really just looking for sex and nothing else?” Natasha checks.  

“Dead serious.” It’s your straight up answer.  

“Ok,” She decides, nodding once, “I may regret this sooner than I think but I might have the perfect guy for you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

[re-diesirae]

Prologue & Chapter 1

Prologue

Llanbister, Wales. March12th, 2016.

He was running late. He shouldn't have spent those few extra minutes waiting for that coffee, but then again, the traffic today was a nightmare. He had no idea of what was happening, but at this rate he wouldn't make it to the office until past noon.

The man drummed his finger against the glass of the window impatiently. The line of cars was not advancing at all and he could see the irritated drivers coming out trying to figure out what was happening. The man checked his hand watch and sighed. His office was barely a few blocks from where he was right now; he probably would make it less late if he just got off and did the trip by foot.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by poke on his shoulder. THe woman sitting by his side had suddenly dropped her head on him apparently asleep and he couldn't help but feel the annoyance building inside him.

"Ehm...excuse me, miss." he said trying to hide the irritation in his voice "Miss?"

Seeing that the woman wasn't responding to his words, he tried moving her to a better position. She was cold and he noticed that she was holding a bulk in her arms. No matter how much he shook her or called, the woman remained unresponsive.

A loud set of screams made him jump on his seat completely forgetting about the woman for a second. He looked out the window and he could see smoke coming from somewhere a few vehicles in front. Just like him, the other passengers in the bus were also trying to see what was happening outside with curiosity. Suddenly he was distracted by a stir at his side.

So…the woman had finally decided to wake up.

He turned around to see her and screeched in horror. The woman was suddenly covered by blood; it dripped out from any possible body hole: nostrils, eyes, mouth, ears...

She began murmuring some incoherent things that he could not understand, but before he could ask anything the woman had jumped over him with a roar. It was too quick for him to react as she stuck her teeth on his neck.

The last thing he would ever remember were the people running frantically inside the bus trying to escape, the smell of blood, pain and darkness and horrifying screams.

1. CLAIRE

North America TerraSave HQ, Hughesville. March 16th, 2016.

Claire let out a frustrated sigh as she dug into the fresh pile of paperwork on her desk. After her return from Sushestvivanie Island, the North American branch of Terrasave had fallen into chaos. The treason of one of its higher characters had caused the organization to falter, and people were starting to lose confidence in them. As a result, the directives decided that it was time to put a meaningful person in the head, and that was how she got promoted to branch chief. Despite the pretty office and the fancy title, the new rank brought even more problems into her already messy life. As expected by many, Claire had done a magnificent job as chief by proposing new plans and strategic protocols, among other things. She had done such a great job that the Chiefs from other branches asked her for advice regularly.

"Seriously," Claire sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. " I am not sure if I'd rather shoot zombies every day instead of signing all this paperwork."

Claire gave the file she had been reading one last look before signing and shutting the folder. She left the thing on the pile on her right and stretched her arms. It was then that she heard the shy knocking at her door, and the auburn headed sighed and told whoever it was to come in.

"Excuse me, Ms. Redfield," Madeleine, her secretary, said, peeking her head behind the door shyly, "I am sorry, but I've been knocking for about ten minutes. I was afraid that you might have collapsed."

Madeleine had been working as her secretary for a couple of months now. However, for some odd reason, the girl still acted a little nervous around her. Claire was aware that there was an innate Redfield trait that would sometimes make her intimidating, so she gave the girl her brightest smile, trying to calm her.

"Oh, sorry. I've been spacing out a lot lately. Did you need something? Please tell me you bring me something good and not another of those endless reports that I am supposed to sign."

Claire was feeling pathetic and bored, and she swore that if she had to sign another of those stupid reports, she would jump out through the window and hide somewhere away from there.

Madeleine laughed, feeling a little more relaxed, and shook her head.

"Oh, no. It isn't a report, Ms. Redfield," she replied, "And I supposed it counts as good news, in a way."

"Huh?" Claire said, tilting her head.

"You have visitors, Ms. Redfield."

"Visitors?" Claire repeated.

She looked at the clock on her desk and frowned. She was sure she didn't have anything booked in her Agenda for that afternoon. She wasn't even expecting guests that week.

"Well, a zombie may kill me," a familiar grave voice chuckled.

Claire's eyes widened in surprise, and her lips curled into a smile as she watched her brother's form step into the room with a teasing smirk. He was wearing casual clothes, something that was very odd these days. To her shock, Chris hadn't come alone. When the large man stepped aside, she saw Jill, Barry, Moira, and Leon enter as well. The latter was who made her even more surprised, as she had no idea of what had brought the agent to visit her today.

"Chris! What the...? What are you doing here?" said Claire, dropping her pen. Suddenly, a wave of panic ran through her body, and she looked at her visitors in a panic," Oh, no. Please, don't tell me there was another outbreak."

Her question caught everyone by surprise, but it was Moira's laugh that broke the tension.

"See what I told you?" the girl laughed, "She's been like this for a while. Whenever someone stops only to say hi, she automatically assumes you bring news of the apocalypse."

Claire rolled her eyes. The only reason she did that was that she had enough experience now to know when something was off.

"You would, too, if you had my job. I've gotten six outbreaks in the past two weeks..." Claire defended herself, "that ebola case in Congo and the Plagas thing in Mexico still has me on edge, so don't judge me."

"Ok, ok..." Moira said, raising her hands, "No one is judging."

Claire sighed. The woman turned to her brother and tilted her head.

"Please tell me there isn't another outbreak," she whispered, looking at Chris.

Chris scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Tch, do I need to be in a crisis to visit my baby sister?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I supposed not," Claire shrugged, "but considering your history and that fact that Leon is here, too. It is hard not to think otherwise."

Claire stood up and gave both men a questioning look.

Chris let out a chuckle as he pulled his sister into a warm hug. Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd felt her brother's hug, and she was happy to return it.

"Relax, Claire," Jill smiled, putting her hand on her shoulder, "We just returned from a mission, and we got a couple of weeks to rest. Since we happened to be around and Barry told us you were overworking yourself, we thought we should come to visit for a change."

"Ok, that's reasonable for you," Claire nodded.

Of course, Barry would tell them that since he probably heard it from Moira. The girl was always complaining about how little rest Claire got, but in her defense, the piles of paperwork kept growing, and she needed to finish them on time.

"What about James Bond?"

"Very funny, Claire," Leon sighed.

Claire smirked at him teasingly, and the blonde shook his head with a faint smile. She often teased him with that, and she was probably the only person from whom Leon accepted it.

" Pretty much the same. I came back from a mission, too. I was in the area and coincidentally stumbled with Chris," he answered, "he said he was going to visit you, and since I haven't seen you in a while, I decided to tag along. Is it true that you've been overworking yourself, Claire?"

Claire laughed.

"I guess that's a plus from my promotion," she sighed, and then she quickly added, as she saw Leon give her a skeptical look, "It's alright. The whole thing is more boring than anything else. Just paperwork and stuff, you know. The sort of thing that Chris hates the most."

Claire punched her brother's muscular arm playfully, and Chris answered the gesture by hugging her by the shoulders.

Jill laughed at the comment, while Barry nodded gravely. No one knew how much Chris hated paperwork better than his partners. Both Barry and Chris would do anything to avoid that, so it was Jill who ended up dealing with that.

"Well, it must be some hellish paperwork, then," Leon said, frowning, "You don't look too well."

"Geez, thanks, Leon, but you are one to talk..." Claire said, rolling her eyes, "No, wait. You never look bad, so how would you know."

Leon smirked at her teasing but said nothing else.

"I know what Claire needs to look livelier. How about we grab a bite?" Barry suggested, "I am starving, and I can swear for my Magnum that Claire needs to put on some weight. Seriously, girl. Are you even eating your meals?"

"Yes, I am, Barry," Claire answered, "Are you here to lecture me on my eating habits?"

"Nah, that's Kathy's thing," Barry laughed, "but you're seriously too thin."

"Blame my quick metabolism for that, but talking about food. I think I can take that offer, but you, Barry, are treating me."

"Sure thing, whatever it takes to put some fat on those bones, girl," Barry smirked, patting her back.

It was rare to have all her friends and family reunited in the same place at the same time, and Claire couldn't deny she felt happy, but Claire's happiness always came with a tiny thorn of doubt. No matter how well things looked, a part of her was waiting for something ominous to happen and make that happiness crumble. She wasn't always like that, but after so many bad experiences, she couldn't help it.

No more than a few minutes had passed since the thought had crossed her mind that she found her prediction coming true. The group was walking out of the office when the harsh echo of the emergency alarm began to ring. They all looked around in confusion, and Claire bit her lip with worry.

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"Isn't that the emergency alarm?" Moira asked, looking at Claire, "That thing has never rung before, has it?"

"No, never..." Claire said with a frown. She picked the radio she carried on her waist and began calling into it.

"Red? Do you copy?" a cracked voice called through the radio.

Claire let out a sigh and answered the call, fearing the news that it'd bring.

"I'm here, Grant. Would you mind explaining why the alarm is ringing?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. There was a security breach. Someone hacked into the system and set out all the safety protocols."

"What?" Claire sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Again? Please tell me you are doing something about that."

"Ah, yeah. I am at it," Grant replied, "where are you now?"

"Standing in front of my office door," Claire said, looking at Madeleine. The girl was sitting at her desk and turning pale.

"I got an S.O.S call from Saya," Grant replied, "Things are a fucking mess. All the security protocols in the laboratories got activated, and people got either locked in or locked out. I tried to help remotely, but the hacking messed up with the system, and it's rejecting me. I am trying to fix things up, so I can't go and reset it manually. Mind lending a hand and taking a look? I think your master code should work."

"If it is rejecting yours, what makes you think mine will work?"

"Well, your code works differently, and even if it fails, I trust you can figure out a way to solve it in situ. Just try not to toast my circuits."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What happened the last time?"

Claire rolled her eyes.

"Fine. You fix up this mess. I'll head to R&D."

"Roger to that."

Claire put the radio away and groaned.

"Sorry," she told her friends. "I hope you don't mind a detour and a slight delay on that lunch date?"

"Well, we don't mind," Barry replied, "Duty is important."

"What happened?" Chris asked, "is there anything we can do to help?"

The group walked to the emergency stairs, followed closely by her brother and friends.

"Ah, never mind. It's just another false alarm," Claire sighed, "It's another attempt to wreck our security system. These pro-terrorists have taken it up against TerraSave, lately. This incident is the first time they succeed, though. No surprise, Grant is so pissed off. He controls the whole cybersecurity system in the building. His pride must hurt."

"Grant?" Jill asked.

"Grant Wallace," Moira chuckled. "Claire's little fanboy and the head of cybersecurity."

"Fanboy?" Jill asked curiously.

"Don't ask," Claire replied, rolling her eyes.

"Hardcore fanboy," Moria smirked, "and not shameful about it. How many times has he asked you out?"

"Out of topic."

Moira smirked and wagged her eyebrows meaningfully.

"So, pro-terrorists?" Leon asked, and Claire innerly thanked him for changing the subject.

"Well, Mr. Government agent, I would have expected you to know about it. It seems there's a significant group of people who believe TerraSave is causing more damage than good. The organization has made its enemies, and the situation with Fisher made our credibility fall apart. We get tons of threats daily."

Claire had, purposely, omitted the detail about the fact that more than 80% of the threats were specifically for her. She could deal with the nuisance, and there was no need to worry about them with silly pranks.

"Those extremists see anyone that goes against their ideas as enemies. Everyone knows the effort that TerraSave has put into helping people in need, Claire," said Chris, placing his hand on her shoulder. "You are all doing a good job."

Claire smiled at her brother. She didn't recall when was the last time she had Chris physically by her side. They spoke regularly by phone unless he was on a mission on some decrepit corner of the world and out of reach, but having the flesh and bones Chris was somehow soothing, especially now. The younger Redfield had been having some issues recently. Her paranoia and neuroticism had been keeping her awake at night. A part of her was unconsciously awaiting a calamity, but having her brother close was a rare comfort.

They reached the fifth level of the building, and Claire led the group through the door and into a corridor with white walls.

"Well, I just had a deja vu," Chris said, shuddering.

Claire snorted. The corridor would surely remind them of many of the bioterrorist laboratories they had visited in their career in the BSAA. However, it was the standard design of any health and investigation facility.

"Don't worry," Claire smiled, "We don't make bioweapons here."

"Fuck no," Moira agreed.

"Where exactly are we now?" Leon asked curiously.

Claire smiled again, this time with some pride. Level five and six held restricted access, so even most members of TerraSave had no access to the place. Chris had visited the building on several occasions, but he'd never stepped into this area either, and Leon had only come once, so she wasn't surprised that he seemed a little confused.

Claire was sure that Leon expected the place to look like a conventional office, but he found laboratories instead.

"Research and development, Level four. Biosafety and Public Health department," Claire explained, "We do some research on disease treatments and control. We work continuously to develop effective countermeasures during outbreaks. Health care systems, communication, medicines, among other things."

"You are developing vaccines?" Leon asked, "here?"

"I had no idea TerraSave could do that," Jill said, surprised.

"No, unfortunately, we lack the resources to develop vaccines. However, we can provide data to companies to help, and we can design treatments for disease, but we don't have enough power to produce vaccines."

"We have the brains, though. Right, Claire?" Moire said, grinning.

"I have no doubt we do. We have many competent researchers."

The group turned around the corner and reached an area with several glass doors. The lights on their electronic locks were red and blinking, and a tall woman with long black hair and Asian features was pacing back and forth in front of the door restlessly.

"Saya," Claire said, surprised.

"Ah, god bless us. You're just the person I wanted to see," the woman said.

"Well, I'm happy to be a sight to sore eyes, I suppose. You got locked out?"

"Isn't that obvious?" the woman asked with a frown, "I went to get some papers from the office next door when the alarm rang. All the doors got locked. I tried my master code, and guess what, it rejected it."

"Any sensible essay I should be worried about?" Claire asked, opening the panel and fidgeting with the buttons.

"Well, not on my part, but some people were working in lab3."

"They will run out of Air if we take too long," Claire sighed, "Let's hope it won't reject my master code."

"I am sure that you can figure out some other way if that happens," the Asian said, "though maybe something less explosive than the last time."

"Are you all going to keep reminding me that?" Claire said, rolling her eyes.

Claire pressed the buttons in the panel. Finally, after tampering with the electronic log several times, the red light turned green, and all the locks chimed, indicating that they were open.

"Bingo," Claire said, closing the panel.

"As expected from Fix-it-all Redfield," the Asian woman chuckled, "You're an angel."

"Oh my god, so the fix-it-all title was for real?" Moira asked.

It was because of Moira's sudden outburst that Claire and Saya remembered that there were other people present.

"Oh, my. Where are my manners," Saya said, looking at Claire, "Who might these be?"

Claire scoffed and turned to her friends.

"You know Moira, of course, this is her dad, Barry; this is my brother Chris, his partner Jill Valentine, and my old friend Leon Kennedy."

"Oh, friends of our chief are friends to me. I am Saya Hiwamura."

Saya shook everyone's hand politely.

"She's a doctor and one of our active researchers."

"You give me too much credit," Saya said with dismissal, "We all know the one doing most of the work here is you, Ms. Fix-it-all."

"Can you stop with the nickname?"

"Why? We know it brings good luck."

"That rumor has been running around the members for a while now," Moira explained to her father and friends, "everyone says that when something isn't working, you must come to Claire. She will fix it."

"Oh, that's a horrible lie, and the reason why my work load keeps piling up."

"Well, that's your fault for being good at this job," Moira laughed, "If you sucked, no one would ask for your advice."

"If I sucked, this branch would sink deeper."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Moira said, "That's fucker Neil's doing."

Claire shrugged. Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of Claire's radio. The woman answered it and got greeted by a lot of static.

"Hey, Redfield. Do you copy?"

"Yeah, Grant. What's wrong with your signal? It sounds so bad."

"Not...sure. Probably interference," the voice answered, "Hey, can you come to the Command Center? I've got troubles here, and I would like you to take a look."

"Me? You are the tech guru, not I. If you can't fix this mess, then I can't either."

"Oh, I am sure you can fix this. Come down here, and you'll see."

Saya gave Claire an amused smile, and the auburn headed caught Moira snickering.

"Fine. I'll be there in a minute."

Claire put the radio away and groaned. She turned to her friends and gave them an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I have got to check this," she sighed.

"Wallace calling for you, huh?" Saya smirked, "He'd use any excuse to have you pay him a visit, wouldn't he?"

"This is purely professional. I don't know what Grant wants me to see, but I am sure it is important," Claire shrugged, "Would you mind entertaining my friends until I'm back?"

"Oh, no. I am happy to oblige," Saya smiled at the group.

"Are you sure you don't want us to help?" Chris asked, but Claire waved her hand.

"I am sure it's nothing. Grant is a dork sometimes, but he knows his deal. The security system in the building is tight. I am sure they just messed up with the alarms and stuff, nothing more than a bad prank."

"Are you sure?" Jill said, "We don't mind helping."

"It's fine. I'll check, and I'll be back in a jiffy. We can get that lunch then."

Claire patted her brother's back and walked down the hallway until she disappeared around the corner, leaving the group behind.

Claire reached the basement, where the Command Center was. The alarm had finally stopped ringing, and the woman was happy to hear silence at last. The loud whistle was starting to cause her a headache.

Everything seemed to be in order, but she had an odd feeling in her gut. However, the woman brushed it off as her paranoia, kicking into action. She had seen several people on her way down, but once she reached the basement, she felt it unusually quiet.

"You are overthinking, Claire," she told herself as she pushed the door to Grant's office open.

The room was empty and dark, except for the tiny lights coming from the equipment. That was the first thing to set off her alarm. From all the rooms in the building, that room was the only one that never looked dark. Even if the lights were off, Grant's monitors would still light it up enough.

"Grant?" Claire called.

There was no answer and Claire's gut twisted. Something was wrong, and she was automatically on edge. Her clear eyes tried to scan the room for danger, but with the little light, it was difficult for her to see if there were any threats.

It was a good thing that her instinct was fast to react. Otherwise, she wouldn't have evaded the dark figure that tackled her from behind the door.

Claire rolled over the ground and stood up in a jump, taking a fighting position. The woman landed a clean kick on the ribs, sending the black-suited person against the wall.

Her attacker was surprised by her reaction, perhaps he taught that Claire was an easy target, but she wasn't. The woman was ready to fight if she had to. Claire hit the man several times, but the man dodged one of her hits and pushed her against the table, slamming her head against the polished wood.

The attacker was sturdier and stronger than her, and he had the advantage in the fight. However, she'd learned to fight from Chris, and he had taught her many ways to overcome that disadvantage. Claire's knee hit the man in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. Using that distraction, she grabbed his head and slammed it against the table several times until the man fell to the floor unconscious.

"Well, crap," Claire gasped, rubbing her head and trying to recover her breath.

She was about to check who the man was when a second man, who she had not seen before, attacked her. The auburn headed struggled against the man, leaving a mess in the small office.

It was at the last minute that Claire realized that there was a third person in the room, but she was too late. The third attacker raised his shotgun and hit her head with it.

The impact was painful, and it made her lose her balance. The second hit knocked her out, and the last thing she felt was a crushing pain on her backs as she faded away.

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Venus Ambassador - 1

Loki x gender neutral reader

Loki tv spoilers

Prologue

You could feel your frustration build as you read through a court hearing where the judge and the defendant just kept going in circles, repeating themselves over and over and you were sick of it.

With a groan, you tossed it back on to the desk and leaned back in your chair, massaging your temples to try and soothe your growing headache.

‘I wasn’t made for all this legal shit,’ you thought, frustrated and annoyed. ‘Couldn’t they have, I don’t know, spiced it up a bit for me at least? All I’m asking for is maybe some more information on these different worlds and species. It’d be good to know what the heck a Daijiq is, not about how “x did this and altered the timeline so we gotta dust ‘em” and all that boring bullshit. They’re just having me read the court transcripts and write documents about how my dimension works. Not to mention making me watch that Hanna-Barbera-esque cartoon and then quizzing me on it.’

With another groan of mental pain you slouched back forward.

“You know what? Maybe I just need a (tea/coffee) break. Yeah, that sounds nice.”

You stand up from your chair and stretch, groaning as your bones and muscles protest at moving after being idle for so long. Thankfully, you were able to easily convince the TVA to provide you with a (tea/coffee) maker, which now sat and a small table in the corner of the room. You purposely placed it in the corner furthest away from your desk so that you’d be forced to get up and stretch your legs every so often, lest your muscles waste away into nothingness.

As your beverage was brewing, two knocks rapped at your office door. Before you could respond, they let themselves in. They held up a manilla folder and gave you a nod.

“New variant case.”

“Thanks.”

They placed the folder on your desk and promptly left. It seems neither you nor the TVA were still quite used to each other’s presence, despite you being here for a month already. You couldn’t really blame them. Afterall, your dimension’s inner workings completely went against their own and their ideals.

With a sigh, ‘more paperwork. Great,’ you head back to your desk with your piping hot drink. Not wanting to pick up that dreadfully boring court transcript you were reading, you decided you might as well take a look at the new file.

You take a sip of your drink as you open the file and gasp, accidentally letting in too much of the almost-boiling drink. You immediately start coughing and sputtering, and your tongue is definitely burned. After your coughing fit subsides, you rub your eyes and look at the file again in disbelief. You had only learned that this was the TVA in the Marvel Cinematic Universe last week; you weren’t expecting one of the characters to be here as a variant so soon!

Loki.

Drink forgotten on the desk, you grab the file and rush out of the room. You couldn’t let your anxiety take over now, not when you had the chance to meet the Loki. If we were talking about problematic favorites, then they were number one on the list. ‘I mean, they’re a villain and they’re hot. What was I supposed to do? Not simp over them?’ You knew Loki would be here eventually, having seen the trailers for the tv show, but when you arrived here, you had no idea what point of the timeline you were at. The show hadn’t aired yet, so you have no idea what’s to come. That thought makes you both nervous and excited.

It doesn’t take you long to reach the circulation desk. You hand the file to the person sitting there, and a bit out of breath you ask, “that variant… where are they?”

They give you a strange look before looking through their own files. “It looks like they are currently with Agent Mobius in Time Theater A, floor 2WE.”

“Thank you,” you hurriedly grab the file and speed-walk to the elevator. You’re not about to risk running through halls filled with armed TVA that could vaporize you with a single tap from their zappy sticks, especially since it seemed many of them didn’t quite like you. Luckily, there’s an elevator close by and you get there quickly, waiting for it to come to your floor after hitting the button. As soon as you confirm the elevator is empty after the doors open, you rush in and hit the button labelled ‘2WE.’ Now stuck with nothing to do but wait, your mind finally has a chance to catch you up on all the anxiety you forgot about—all those doubts that started to build up, wondering if this was a good idea. You start to pace around the small space as nerves get the better of you, nearly jumping out of your skin when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. There’re people rushing about, like always, and you do your best to squeeze past them to Time Theater A.

You slip through the theater doors as quickly as possible, letting out a quick sigh of relief as soon as you’re out of the crowd. You look up, and there he is, sitting on the steps to your left, face in hands and tesseract beside him.

He looks so… lost.

“Um, are you okay?” You asked without thinking, immediately berating yourself in your head. ‘Stupid! Of course, he’s not okay! They just got kidnapped by the TVA and now look at them! He looks so… despaired? Unsure? Like everything he thought he knew was a lie? Again?!’

He glances up at you, slightly lifting his head out of his hands and raises an eyebrow.

You stand there awkwardly for a couple seconds, not quite sure what to do. ‘They seem like a tea person; I should’ve brought tea… wait, shit, I don’t have a thermos. There’s no way I could bring some tea all the way down here without spilling it all over myself and—okay, you know what. Fuck it,’ you leave all caution to the wind and walk over to him, sitting on the steps to his left.

“…that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” you said, letting out a single self-deprecating huff of laughter. A moment of silence passed between the two of you. You take a deep breath. “It’s okay to feel things, you know. It’s also okay to let others see that you feel things. I know that it’s hard, but sometimes it’s easier with a stranger. So, if you want to, you can…vent? Fuck, sorry, I can’t think of the other word for it, and you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with—actually, you know what, forget it, just forget I said anything at all and now I’m rambling and making a fool of myself—okay, deep breaths.”

You felt absolutely mortified. He you were, tiny insignificant mortal you, trying to comfort a literal deity who you may or may not simp for and making a complete fool of yourself. This time, it’s your turn to bury your face in your hands. You want to scream in frustration at yourself, but there’s no way you’d do that in front of them. You peek at them between your fingers to see that he’s looking at you with confusion written on his face.

“Heheh… sorry about that. I tend to ramble a lot… especially when I don’t know what to do,” you take another deep breath and turn to look at them. “But where are my manners. I’m (y/n), nice to meet you—"

“Loki,” Agent Mobius cuts you off as he enters the room, wielding the phaser stick.

‘This… this is not a good situation right now, is it?’

Hey. I know some people (like myself) like to be added to the taglist so… if you wanna… lemme know and I’ll slap your name on it. Ok. So. I’m going to try to update this weekly as the episodes air. Maybe biweekly if I need to cut some chapters in half because they’re long and I wanna post what I’ve finished so far. But maybe, just maybe, as we get further into the series, I’ll drop some little omakes here and there, small fluffy interactions…

[wannawritefast]

Whiplash: Chapter 1- Playing Defense

A/N: Hey, y’all. I know the prologue didn’t get a whole lot of attention but I’ve written a substantial amount for this and I am VERY proud of how much I’ve written and what I’ve written. Also, huge shoutout to @andtheswordwentsnickersnack​ for beta reading this beast of a fic that I’ve been working on for WAYYYY too long LMAO...

Pairing: BoRhap!Brian May x fem!Reader

Prologue

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, awful men, sexism

You loved your family. Really, you did.

But there were times, and many times they were, that you would have been more comfortable ripping your own hair out strand-by-strand than having to sit through another session of verbal abuse.

You weren’t entirely certain what you had done, if anything, to deserve such discrimination from your grandfather, father, and brother amongst a few cousins and uncles. It was like 3 generations of men in your family had decided to use you as a verbal punching bag.

You still vividly remembered the time you had told them that you didn’t particularly appreciate how they talked to you. They laughed right in your face and told you to grow a thicker skin. That Y/l/n’s were a tougher breed than most and that if you couldn’t handle it then maybe you weren’t of their blood.

October break wasn’t any different. Your family had met up for your annual dinner together aside from Christmas.

“And what about you? When are you going to settle down, Y/n?” your grandfather quipped after shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “I want some great-grandbabies!”

Before you could even open your mouth in response your brother, James, chimed in. “I wouldn’t count on anyone banging her anytime soon.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “would you look at who’s talking?” James grumbled to himself and threw a pea at you which you successfully evaded. You turned your head to address your grandfather. “And I’m not your only grandchild. You have a grandson too, you know.”

You nodded toward your brother and your grandfather hardly even blinked at the last sentence. He either didn’t hear you or didn’t care. Proof that he used any and every opportunity to undermine you. Your grandfather scoffed and mumbled to himself gruffly.

You practically heard your father’s eye roll. “Your career is only so fulfilling.”

“Dad, I’m an astrophysicist and a damn good one, I’d like to think. If my career wasn’t fulfilling enough, I’d be seriously questioning all of the time and money I spent at university writing my thesis and graduating top 5 in my year.” You took a bite out of your roll. Why did you have to defend yourself every time you came home? It was exhausting!

“I’m just saying that you aren’t fully happy until you’ve settled down.”You rolled your eyes at your father. You didn’t have the time to focus on your love life. You barely had time to do your studies as it was. Furthermore, no man you had met seemed to like you after finding out you were an astrophysicist. Nobody seemed to click with you well.

“Why do I need more than my career to be fulfilled in life?” You asked seriously.The whole table laughed at your question. Even the kiddie table laughed but it was just hive mind reflex. You certainly did want to get married and have a family someday but you were making a point to your father. Who was he to dictate what made you happy?

“Please, Y/n,” James piped up again, “that’s what lonely people say to feel better about themselves.”

Ouch. That one stung more than you should have let it. You took a drink to keep yourself from letting a tear roll.

“Who ever said that she’s single?” Your sister spoke suddenly. You coughed and sputtered on your drink. Your neck turned to Donna so swiftly that you probably could have snapped it.

“Are you implying that my eldest daughter is dating a boy,” your mother raised her brows at you conspiratorially, “and didn’t tell me? Is it that smart, goofy boy you fancied at university for the longest time?” She couldn’t seem to keep a grin from spreading across her face.You flushed red at her question. Nobody needed to know that. Except now they did because you were, apparently, no longer single. Everybody at the table locked their eyes on you, muttering to each other. You looked at your sister in panic.

“Go on,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before bringing her cup to her lips. “Tell them about your boyfriend.”

Gee thanks… She had just started digging you into a hole.“Wait just a second! Let’s rewind a moment.” James questioned incredulously. “My sister, the stick in the mud astrophysicist, has a boyfriend? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

“It’s not relevant who I may or-” you looked at your sister pointedly; she fiddled with her fork “-may not be dating.” The fact that James wasn’t buying it was making you quite nervous. You were more offended though than anything. “Is it really so hard to believe that I’d be dating someone?”

“Yes!”

“Believe it, James” Donna insisted, pointing her fork at him. Put down your damn shovel!

“Have you banged him?” Your brother asked in the silence.

You picked up your drink and splashed him in the face. Your mother softly scolded you for your actions but you were completely unapologetic for what James more than deserved. How you shared the same DNA with such a tool was beyond you… 

“That is hardly your business,” you snipped. You turned and stared down Donna. You were going to have to tell them the truth…

“Ok, that’s quite enough,” your mother stopped everything. Oh, thank the Lord. “We’re here to talk about your sister not her boyfriend.” Thank you, mother. “She’ll just have to bring him over for Christmas!”

You stood up from your chair and it scraped along the floor. What had you done…“That’s ridiculous! What if he wants us to spend time with his family for Christmas?” Why were you even going along with this? Why were you defending your hypothetical boyfriend?

“Then you can split the time between the two!”

“What if he doesn’t want to meet you guys yet?” You suggested. This hole is getting awfully big, Y/n. “Meeting parents is a big deal!” The statement came out as more of a question than a defense. You were honestly hoping for one, just one, objection to stick. “I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Who wouldn’t want to meet us?” Your mother asked. You resisted the urge to answer the question.

“Well, what if we’re not even together anymore by that time?”

“Wow, you really can’t hold onto a man for that long, Y/n? It seems to me like you would have been making this whole thing up if you are ‘broken up’ by then.” James finished wiping his face with a napkin after his encounter with your drink. You locked eyes with him. He was onto you.

“I’m not making this up,” you lied. Apparently you hadn’t put down your shovel yet either.“Then bring him home for Christmas,” James challenged. “Otherwise we’ll know it's a lie.”

Your family was on the edge of their seats and, for the time being, the logistics of the challenge didn’t matter. You were fed up with your brother constantly tearing you down. You were tired of your father not being pleased with anything you did. And you were exhausted by your grandfather’s insistence that you were nothing more than a source for great-grandkids. You got no respect at work and you certainly didn’t get any damn respect at home.

And so you did it. You extended your arm toward your stupid brother’s stupid hand and grasped it firmly with a shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, brother dearest.”

[{...}]

Eventually the extended family left and you went to your sister’s bedroom since you were sharing the room and the bed for break.

“Why in the bloody hell would you do something like that?!” You lowered your voice so that your family, more specifically James, wouldn’t hear you. Your sister sat on the bed cross-legged, fiddling with the ends of her hair.

“I’m sorry!” Donna yelled. You shushed her as you brushed your hair. “I couldn’t just watch. James crossed a line with that comment. I just wanted to wipe that stupid smile off of his dumb face.”

“Watch your language, why don’t you?” You teased. She rolled her eyes at you. “But I was fine, honestly. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be!” You hissed at Donna to be quiet again. “It was nice for them to shut up for a few moments and see you as a normal human being.”

Your heart was warm but you were in a state of complete panic. “That’s such a sweet sentiment in such a terrible circumstance!” You dug your fingers into your temples and threw yourself onto the bed. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t just go up to a guy and say ‘I need you to be my fake boyfriend because my sister dug me into a bloody hole’! You know I can barely get guys to talk to me on a casual basis!” Your voice dropped in volume, no louder than a whisper. “What makes you think that I can get one to play my boyfriend?” You let out a frustrated sigh.

“I honestly did not foresee the consequences of my actions and I am very sorry.”

“Do you think?” You growled to yourself. “Bloody hell… what am I going to do?”

Your sister scratched the back of her neck. “I mean, you have time… It is only October…”

“But I’m going to have to find someone eventually… if I find one.” You gnawed on a fingernail.

“You’ll be fine!” Donna breathed. She curled herself into the blankets next to you. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Yeah…,” you inhaled deeply, “and I’ve got time…”

[willowdove]

Eyes Like Fire: A Soulmate AU

A couple months passed by.  The green in Katara’s eyes started to morph into a rich yellow-gold.  Kya found herself lost in them as she bounced Katara in her lap.  Perhaps it was temporary.  Maybe they would shift again, into a brown, maybe.  Brown eyes, at least, were potential allies.  Golden eyes, though- golden eyes were dangerous. 

Since there’s been some interest in this I’ve decided to post an update.  My work pace is slower than a snail- BUT I haven’t abandoned this WIP by any means.  This is not all of the work I have so far (please note that there are chapters in between that are missing) but it is what I’m happy with.  I’ve included the first couple chapters again because they’ve been slightly reworked.  Hopefully it’s not too much to put it all in one place here.

PROLOGUE

“Her eyes are darkening,” said Kya, watching her two children play nearby.  The eldest, Sokka, rolled a ball towards his sister Katara.  She scooted excitedly to grab it in her chubby little fist, then spastically hurled it at the ground between them.  She giggled with delight when this made Sokka toddle after it.

Kya’s husband Hakoda squeezed her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.  “Sokka’s eyes changed about this time too,” he remarked.  When Sokka was born, he had possessed the crystal blue eyes of any Water Tribesmen.  But before he was a year old, they had lightened to a pale green.  Hakoda claimed this meant Sokka was destined to be an adventurer.  He would have to leave home if he wanted to find the person those eyes belonged to. 

Katara’s eyes were changing too, but they weren’t getting paler.  Green was blazing up from underneath the blue, vibrant and consuming.  Green definitely would point to an Earth Kingdom origin.  “Maybe they’ll go on their adventure together,” Kya suggested.  

Hakoda chuckled.  “They certainly do seem to get along,” he said.

***

A couple months passed by.  The green in Katara’s eyes started to morph into a rich yellow-gold.  Kya found herself lost in them as she bounced Katara in her lap.  Perhaps it was temporary.  Maybe they would shift again, into a brown, maybe.  Brown eyes, at least, were potential allies.  Golden eyes, though- golden eyes were dangerous.   

She must have been staring a little too intently, because Sokka seemed to pick up on her concern.  “Katara eyes pretty,” he declared.  He clambered up Kya’s knee to sit with his sister and hugged her tightly.  Katara popped her thumb out of her mouth to hug him back, babbling happily.  

Kya forced herself to smile, kissing them both on the head.  “Yes,” she agreed.  He was right, they were pretty.  But that didn’t stop a dark ache from tugging deep at the center of her being.

***

Kya was preparing sea prune stew for the family when her daughter asked the question.  “Mommy, why does everybody look at me funny?” she said. The spoon in Kya’s hand clattered into the pot as she quickly turned.

“Who said people were looking at you funny?” she demanded, bristling.

Katara seemed to shrink in the fur lining of her dress collar.  She looked down at her feet, mumbling, “Nobody said.  I just see them do it.  You look at me funny too, sometimes.”

The air went out of Kya and guilt pricked at her like a barb.  She knelt slowly, taking her daughter’s face in her hands.  Katara resisted the gentle tug at first, but quickly gave in and met her mother’s gaze with wide, golden eyes.  A stranger’s eyes.  “I’m sorry, baby.  We’re just… worried about you.”

“Is something wrong with me?” Katara asked, tears welling up on her thick lashes.

“Oh, sweetie, no,” she shushed, giving Katara a tight hug before holding her out by the shoulders.  She struggled to put together the words she needed. “…Has anyone told you what a soulmate is?”

Katara sniffled loudly, but managed to contain her tears.  “Gran-Gran said it was someone special who will love me forever and ever.”

A thankful smile quirked at the corners of Kya’s mouth as she nodded.  “Do you know that until you kiss your soulmate, you’ll have each other’s eyes?”

Katara’s brows furrowed in confusion for a second before she gave a little shriek, pressing her fingers into the top of her cheeks just under her lower eyelids.  “These aren’t my eyes?” she asked, horrified.

Kya had to laugh a little at the unexpected outburst.  “No, those are your soulmate’s eyes,” she reiterated.

“Why?!” Katara demanded.

“Well, it’s to help us to find each other, I expect,” she explained.

Katara considered that for a long moment.  She walked over to her mother’s bed furs and pulled out the mirror.  Her fingertips brushed lightly over the metal as she peered studiously at her reflection.  “My soulmate… isn’t from here, is he?”

“No,” Kya answered softly.

“Are people worried I will have to go really far away?” she asked.

Kya followed and kissed her daughter’s forehead fiercely, trying to blink away the tears that were welling in her own eyes before Katara could see them.  “They’re worried… you’ll have to go to the Fire Nation,” she replied.

“Oh,” Katara said, “Well, I won’t then.  I’ll just tell everybody I’m not gonna go.”

The ache in Kya’s chest was so great that she could barely breathe.  “Ok, baby,” she agreed, “I’ll try not to worry so much anymore.”

***

CHAPTER 1: THE SOUTH POLE

When the black snow began to fall, Katara felt her heart seize. The last time she had seen such snow fall was the first day Katara ever saw eyes like hers. It was also the last day she ever saw her mother.

 She ran to the middle of the village, to stand with her brother. He was the only man left in the tribe, and she was the only waterbender. They were only two, and untrained, but it didn’t matter. They were all that stood between their people and the enemy.

 The Fire Nation steamer that had carved through the icy harbor to their port was small compared to others that had come before, and alone. Still, it was formidable looming over the tattered remains of their village. Its stern detached with a metallic hiss, then slowly lowered to form a ramp. Sokka tensed beside her, his club raised.  A figure in red metal plate began to descend the ramp.

 Sokka gave a yell and charged forward as Katara started to gather water into her palms, but inexplicably he stopped midway up the ramp, casting a look of fear and confusion over his shoulder towards her. The armored stranger stopped in front of Sokka. Both boys were about matched in height, but the stranger’s position on the ramp allowed him tower over her brother. Sokka pressed his club into the center of the boy’s chest, muttering a low warning. The stranger growled something in return and pushed past him roughly, nearly knocking Sokka off the side of the ramp in the process.

 Once he got closer, Katara had to stifle a gasp.

 His eyes were as blue as the heart of a glacier. Water Tribe blue.

 She stumbled backward, reeling, reflexively bringing her hand up to shield her own eyes. He hadn’t looked at her directly yet. He hadn’t seen.

 “Where is the Avatar?” the stranger demanded. The villagers in the square shifted uneasily. Many of them were casting worried glances between him and Katara. She pulled the hood of her parka close to the side of her face.

 The stranger reached into the small gathered crowd to grasp her Gran-Gran’s wrist. “They’d be about this age-“ he started to say. Panic and fury spiked hot in the pit of Katara’s stomach, and she forgot herself. The ice beneath the stranger’s feet lurched upward like a living thing; twin maws swallowed his feet whole.

 He looked at her then. Her hood had fallen away and a few strands of hair had come loose from her hair loops. She was panting with exertion, the air in front of her fogging like smoke from a dragon’s mouth. Their gazes locked, and her eyes were like fire.

 The stranger’s brow furrowed. He had since dropped Gran-Gran’s wrist, and he brought the now free hand to his good cheek, as if he could feel the color of his eyes through the pads of his fingers. His other cheek was marred, a thick red scar beginning there, traveling over his left eye and ending just above where an eyebrow should have been. As she studied him, steam started to issue from the ice encasing his feet and rivulets ran down the sides as it melted.

 “Who are you?” Katara asked.

 The stranger frowned harder, his gaze dropping to the snow between them. His jaw ticked, but as it did, something in his demeanor seemed to fall away. When he looked back up at her, it was with such unguarded, raw hope that it took her aback.

 “I’m Prince Zuko,” he answered, finally. “Will you help me find the Avatar?”

 She was so startled by his vulnerability that she almost let it sway her.  A part of her was drawn into the depths of his too familiar blue eyes. But he was Fire Nation, and she was Water Tribe.

 So she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody’s seen the Avatar in over 100 years.”

 It was as the surface of his open soul froze over, suddenly, so that it hissed and popped and cracked. His face twisted into hard, angry lines, and fire burst from his clenched fists.

 “I know you’re hiding him. I saw the light!” he insisted.

 Katara took a wary step back, reaching for the snow on the ground and trying to pull it into her grasp. It shifted, turning to slush, but it did not flow up to meet her. She tried desperately not to let her panic show. More Fire Nation soldiers were descending the ramp, hands ablaze and ready. There were too many. She had shared a grim look with Sokka, who reached behind his back for his boomerang.

 And from out of nowhere, a powerful gust of wind guttered out all the flames. The Airbender had returned, and he landed himself protectively in front of her.

 The stranger- Zuko’s fighting stance faltered. “You’re the airbender?  You’re the Avatar?” he asked with disbelief.  “But you’re just a child!”

 Aang tilted his head to the side.  “Well, you’re just a teenager,” he pointed out. 

Zuko shook his head once, and then with a surging roar punched a fireball at Aang.  Aang spun his staff to disperse it.  The prince let loose a couple more fireballs, one high and one low, before launching into a torrent of blows.  Aang was able to dodge and deflect all of them, but Zuko’s soldiers started to draw in from his sides, and the villagers behind him started to press together in fear.

“Wait!” Aang said.  Zuko paused midform, his arms still flexed and ready.  Aang held his glider out to his side, his hands up in a gesture of surrender.  “If I go with you, will you promise to leave everyone alone?”  Aang asked.

Zuko looked over the villagers again as if he had forgotten they were there.  Straightening, he nodded.  

“Aang, no!  Don’t do this!”  Katara cried, rushing forward.  Zuko gestured wordlessly to his men with a jerk of his chin.  The soldiers encircled the Avatar, taking away his staff and roughly grabbing him to restrain him.  Zuko stepped around them in order to block Katara’s path to the boy.

“You can come with him,” he offered, almost quietly.  With me, he implied, unspoken.  His too blue eyes pierced into her, confusing her, beckoning her.  She had a kinship with those eyes.  They looked like… they looked like her mother’s.

“You should leave him here,” she countered.  A blaze of indignation was starting in her chest and clawing its way up her throat.  

“I’ll be okay, Katara,” Aang assured her.  The soldiers started dragging him up the ramp to the ship. “Take care of Appa for me while I’m gone!” 

Zuko held Katara’s eyes for another moment before he ripped himself away.  Her heart guttered with an inexplicable feeling of loss.  “Head a course for the Fire Nation,” Zuko called to his helmsman, “I’m going home.”

***

After Zuko finished doing the rounds to make sure his ship was in order, he retreated into his private cabin.  After three years of hard, fruitless searching, they were finally underway towards his true destination.  He was supposed to be feeling triumphant.  He was supposed to be feeling relief.  He had accomplished an impossible task after all.

But he didn’t feel that way.  Nervousness eddied around him like the tide washing over a rocky shore.  He felt unbalanced.  How would his father react when he brought the Avatar home?  What if something went wrong along the way?  What would be the young boy’s fate once he was taken from Zuko’s hands?

That last thought disturbed him most of all.  He leapt from his seat on the bed and began pacing, trying to force his mind to quiet.  Instinctively he reached out to the torches along his wall, connecting their energy to his breath.  In, and out.  Ebb, and flow.  Rise, and fall.

Panic crashed over him when he heard one of his soldiers call out, “The Avatar has escaped!”

Zuko began to rush for the door when he spotted the boy’s staff sitting in the corner of his room; he’d had that delivered to his quarters for safe-keeping.  The boy had used to fly into their first encounter.  There was a good chance he would come back for it, if not out of nostalgia, then out of necessity.  Zuko could use it as bait.  He hid himself behind the door and waited.

The Avatar child flew into the room without even looking.  It should have been easy to trap him; Zuko immediately shut the door after him.  But somehow the young boy had deflected all his attacks and wrapped him in a tapestry.  Zuko had to chase him up through the control room to the main deck, and only just barely managed to catch him by the ankle before he flew off.  He moved to pin his opponent, with a fiery hand raised in warning, but he was interrupted by a loud, guttural lowing.

Zuko and the Avatar both looked up.  “What is that?” Zuko asked in shock.

“Appa!” the Avatar cheered.  Two of the Water Tribesman were mounted on a giant, floating, furry… thing.  One was the boy who tried to rush him.  The other was his water-bender girl.

But Zuko wasn’t one to lose focus for very long.  The Avatar had shimmied his ankle out of Zuko’s hold and was moving to get up.  Zuko kept the newcomers in his peripheral as he blasted incapacitating shots at the Avatar.  The boy was able to deflect most of them, but the force of the last one sent the Avatar tumbling over the edge of the ship.  He hit his head on the way down.

The Water Tribe girl screamed.  Adrenaline surged in Zuko, who immediately began shucking off his armor in preparation to dive in after the boy.  He had tossed his shoulder guard aside and was reaching for the clasp on his breast-plate when a strange white glow came from the water.

A raging waterspout surged forth to tower over the ship, the Avatar at its top.  His narrowed eyes and tattoos were glowing with white light, and his face was crossed with a severe frown.  He was different than he had been before.  More powerful.  Angry.  The icy cold spray from the waterspout bit into Zuko’s skin.  He took a step back.

With a wide circle of his arms the Avatar flowed down to the deck, bringing the water with him in a great protective sphere.  Gathering his determination, Zuko made to advance, but a torrent of water was sent blasting into his chest and he was thrust backwards. His back hit the rail and suddenly he himself was spinning towards the Arctic water below.  

His outstretched hand banged against a protruding metal bar.  The service ladder.  He forced himself not to flinch away so he could catch the next one down.  Pain exploded in his shoulder as his fall was yanked to a stop, but he managed to haul himself into the curve of the ship, planting his feet on the ladder.  

On the deck he heard the water slosh to the ground and a soft thud.  The Water Tribesman jumped aboard, calling out to the Avatar in concern.  Zuko gritted his teeth and climbed.  

His waterbender appeared at the rail above him just before he was able to pull himself over.  He thought he saw relief flash in her eyes, but that emotion was quickly followed with concern and fear.

If it was anyone else he would have yelled at her to move.  Instead he simply requested, quietly, “Get out of my way.”

Her eyebrows creased.  “No,” she said.  They looked at each other.  Zuko reached across the rail and shoved her to the side.

She stumbled and he hauled himself onto the deck of the ship, now slick with ice from the Avatar’s water attacks.  Zuko turned to face the direction where he’d heard the Avatar fall.  The Water Tribesman was helping him fend off attacks from Zuko’s soldiers.  

“No!” his water bender repeated, planting her feet.  She siphoned ice from the deck to form globules of water that she suspended from her hands. 

Zuko growled at her in frustration. “This isn’t your fight, peasant!” he snapped, gesticulating.  Why did she keep trying to stop him?  “Get out of my way!”

She scoffed with clear distaste, saying, “My name is Katara!”

He found himself committing that to memory.  Katara.  Katara.

The Avatar and the Water Tribesman were able to retreat onto the giant fluffy monster.  They flew around the nose of the ship to Zuko’s side of the deck.  The Water Tribesman reached out his arm to scoop the water bender into the saddle.  

There was an odd look of regret on her face as she swung out of his reach.  

The fluffy thing was getting away fast.  “Shoot them down!” Zuko ordered frantically.  His soldiers coordinated together to launch a huge fireball after the fluffy beast.  As it arced through the air Zuko’s heart went into his mouth.  It needed to hit them.  But it couldn’t hit them.  He didn’t want to hurt them, not really, he-

At the last second the Avatar gusted it off trajectory, right into a cliff above the port-side bow.  Zuko barely has time to jump back out of the way before snow and ice came crashing down in an avalanche onto the deck.  

***

CHAPTER 2: KYOSHI ISLAND

Something compelled Zuko to look over the rock.

Katara hoped faintly that it hadn’t been the force of her eyes on him.  She and Aang had been smashed against the shore by the Unagi’s wake, beneath a large outcropping of rock.  Unfortunately the prince’s ship had landed just to the other side.  And he was headed this way, flanked by more komodo-rhino riders.

“Katara!” Zuko called.  Lightning shocked through her stomach at hearing him say her name.  She tamped it down, frantically shaking Aang’s shoulder to rouse him from unconsciousness.  The boy gave no sign of waking.  His head lolled to the side.   Katara‘s gaze flicked around with growing panic, finding only sand and rock and surf, before lighting back on Aang.  She started digging through his pockets.

“Surrender the Avatar!” Zuko demanded, his rhino just stepping around the rock.  The sun glinted off the tips of his metal helmet as his soldiers filled in around him.  Cloth, cold metal discs, slippery round marbles, fluffy lint... Katara‘s fingers closed over something smooth and wooden.  “Step away from him!” Zuko demanded again.

Katara gathered Aang’s unconscious body up in her arms, awkwardly heaving his arm over her left shoulder so that she could balance his head against her cheek. With her right hand, she brought the bison whistle to her lips, and she started backing up into the sea.

Zuko let out a sharp breath.  He tapped his heel into the side of his Komodo-rhino and it trotted dutifully into the rocky surf, its great feet kicking up big arcs of water.  “Get back!” Zuko insisted, “You have nowhere to run!”

The rocks were uneven underfoot, but Katara refused to turn around.  She strained her senses to map the terrain behind her, where the water flowed and caught and eddied.  She took another careful step backwards, and another, wincing as her ankle turned just the slightest bit.  The water was up to her knees now.

The other rhino riders hovered uncertainly at the edge of the beach.  One called, “Permission to engage, Prince Zuko?”

The prince’s eyes were locked with Katara’s.  “No! Stay back!” he said quickly.  Then, his right hand opening to produce a small font of flame, he added, “Hold your position.  I’ll capture the Avatar myself.”

Katara stumbled backwards further over the slippery rocks.  The water was lapping at her waist.  ”Not today you won’t!” she denied hotly.  

“You can’t swim with him like that.  Surrender,” Zuko pressed, advancing.

The adrenaline burning her veins was drying out her mouth.  She was out of options.  She was cornered.  She was going to do something incredibly, phenomanally stupid.  “I don’t need to swim,” she said, half as affirmation, half as prayer.  She tucked her knees, sinking her and Aang both in up to their necks, and pushed.

To her hysterical relief and dread the water flung itself away from her outstretched hand in a forceful jet, just as it had earlier, propelling them backwards towards the center of the lake.  Zuko swore, calling for his men to fetch the boats.  He dismounted and started shucking his armor.

She stretched and stretched her senses, deep into the water until the reaching wisps of her concentration felt taught enough to snap.  Fish wriggled thinly through the net she had cast, and seaweed brushed against it in a whisper. The Unagi was so deep it was almost out of her reach, undulating far below them in the water column, a vast yet smooth obstruction to its flow.  Katara sensed it’s head turn to track their movement.  It’s great muscled coils tightened beneath it in preparation to launch upwards.  The edges of a scream started licking up the inside of her throat.  She was going to have to dodge, somehow.  At the shore, Zuko was running into the surf.  He stumbled.  And suddenly, inexplicably, the Unagi’s great head turned towards him instead.  

A bellowing roar signaled the arrival of Appa.  He landed in the water with a huge splash, and Katara heaved Aang onto the bison’s leg so she could clamber up into the saddle.  Sensing urgency, Appa flicked his tail to launch himself from the water as soon as both passengers were aboard, still balancing Aang on his leg.  As they climbed, Katata reached down to pull Aang up the rest of the way.

“Back to the village Appa!” she urged the bison, “We have to go get Sokka!”

***

Zuko roared in frustration, slapping the water as the Avatar was carried away on his bison. He had been so close!  If his soulmate hadn’t insisted on getting in the way...

It was just his luck.  A Water Tribe girl, of course.  A stubborn, meddlesome, distracting girl for a weak, honorless, useless prince.  Was it too much to ask that she was at least a supporter of the Fire Nation?  Zuko had always assumed it would be someone from the colonies- with Water Tribe heritage surely, but a Fire Nation citizen nonetheless.  Someone loyal, and helpful, and kind...

Well, it didn’t do to dwell on that now.

“Riders!”  he called.  They snapped to attention.  “You’re letting him get away!  Follow that bison!”

Zuko hobbled to shore, blood trailing from a cut in his heel that he had sustained on the uneven rocks below the water.  Ignoring how each step ground more sand into his wound, he and threw his armor into a carry sack on his own mount before climbing on, figuring he wouldn’t bother with putting it on again.  It would take too long, and besides, it kept getting in the way.  

When the riders reached the village, they were met with a wall of female warriors, dressed proudly in green armored dress.  

“Halt!” called the one in the center. Her pale amber eyes glinted with mistrust.  “Foreign combatants are not permitted on Kyoshi soil.  This is neutral ground!” 

“I demand to be let through!” Zuko responded with fury.  Taking a breath, he ground out, “You are in defiance of the Fire Nation.”

The warriors took a ready stance, their golden fans sharp and gleaming in the sunlight.  Their leader continued, “We do not want to violate our peace with the Fire Nation.  Dismount and remove your helms, and I will take you to our governor for negotiations.”

Zuko’s scowl deepened.  “We don’t have time to talk.  You’re in my way.  Bring me the Avatar before his bison leaves, or I’ll go through you.”

“The Avatar is our guest,” the warrior hissed.

“Then you’re on his side!” Zuko replied, ordering, “Riders, engage!  Break the line!”

Fire surged forth, and the warriors burst into motion.  More seemed to pour in from above and the sides, dashing up the long torsos of the rhinos and vaulting over them to strike at their riders.  The leader zeroed in on Zuko, slashing at his legs in the saddle.  Zuko yanked the reigns to the side, his rhino dodging beneath him as he punched retaliatory fire at his attacker.  She followed, making a dash at the komodo-rhino’s side.  Zuko angled his foot so he could flick flames from the toe of his boot, unbalancing her approach, and in the same motion dug in his heel to urge the komodo rhino forward.  It surged beneath him.  But even as he streaked past the Kyoshi guards, a sky bison rose into the air.  

He had lost.

***

CHAPTER: THE NORTH POLE

“Are we there yet?” Sokka complained loudly, shaking Katara out of her reverie. They had not seen the Fire Nation Prince for several weeks now. The memory of his face was haunting her. The dark, severe eyebrow, the gaunt, angular cheekbones, the red, leathery scar, and the too blue eyes. She wondered if he was searching the sky for them right now. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought, though whether it was a pleasant or unnerved shiver it was hard to say.

 “We’re getting close!” Aang replied cheerily to her brother. “We should be able to see the walls soon.”

Suddenly, they were jolted off balance as Appa careened to the right.  Then Katara saw a battering ram of ice launch towards them from the sea on her side.

“Incoming!” she screamed, scrambling back to her spot so she could grab tightly onto the saddle.  

Bombarded with icy projectiles,  Appa was gradually forced lower and lower until he was snagged by the foot and slammed into the water.  The wave that formed from his hapless impact was frozen around his body, encasing him in place.  He roared in frustration, the sound reverberating through Katara’s body, and thrashed against his imprisonment.  Ships appeared around the icebergs on all sides, carrying waterbenders that hurriedly refreshed the cracks in the ice that Appa was making.

“I thought they’d be friendlier,” Aang said before hailing them.  “Hey!  We’re here to find a waterbending teacher!”

 One of the boats approached closer, headed by a severe old man with a thin mustache and pointed goatee. “Show yourselves, intruders!” he demanded.

Katara and Sokka stood up in the saddle by Aang, raising their arms.

 “It’s just me and my sister, Katara,” Sokka said slowly.  “We’re with Aang.”

 He looked searchingly past them for a moment before accepting that they were the only ones on the flying bison.  “I see.  I assume not all of you require a teacher?” the old man asked.  He looked dubiously at Aang, taking in his pale skin, grey eyes, and bright autumnal attire.

 “Well…” Aang began, trailing off as Sokka cleared his throat.

 “Aang is the Avatar.  My sister is the last remaining waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe.  I am not a bender- I came to protect them on their journey.”

 The other benders on the boat behind him exchanged an incredulous glance, but the old man appeared unruffled.  “And you are?”

 “Sokka, son of Hakoda.”

 At this he did seem surprised, his eyebrows raising just a fraction of an inch.   “The Avatar AND the Chief’s children.  Of course.  You can verify this?”

 The question silenced Sokka, who looked at once alarmed and perplexed.  Katara reached tentatively for her necklace.  Aang shrugged, then jumped off of Appa’s back towards the man-made ice sheet that extended a couple feet all around his bison.  In the span of an instant the old man dropped low, and as he came up, an ice spear flew forward from the water in the direction of his thrusting arm.  Wide-eyed, Aang produced a gust of air to propel himself backward.  The ice spear stopped just short of where he would have landed.  

 “I was only getting down to show you my airbending,”  Aang protested, clearly a little shaken.

 The old man retracted the ice spear, straightening.  “We don’t have many… pleasant visits here.  I have to assume that you’re attacking when you move that suddenly.  Next time, give some warning.  In any case…” he signaled to his crew members and to the boats around him.   “Chief Arnook will want to deal with this matter personally.  I will escort you."  He brought his arms together in front of his face, hands clenched into fists above his head and, exhaling, released them so his palms were open towards the ground in front of his hips.  With that release, the ice around Appa melted and crashed back into the sea.

 Katara tried to file away how he moved, and watched enraptured by the easy way the waterbenders propelled their craft through the sea.  The bending that had been displayed to apprehend them was more powerful than she had ever dreamed it could be.  Once they reached the city she would finally be able to find a teacher. She eagerly searched the horizon for a sign of the gate.  When it finally appeared out of the maze of ice, it took her breath away.

 The structure was absolutely immense, carved into a towering glacier at least 500 feet high.  Even with the aid of master waterbenders, the construction of this glittering behemoth must have been a massive undertaking.  And everything in the city beyond those gates had to be cut from the heart of the glacier itself.  Beholding it filled Katara at once filled with profound awe and profound loss.  THIS was what it meant to be Water Tribe. 

 They were waterbended into the city through a series of several draining lock chambers which emptied into a series of canals.  Inside was a glittering expanse of buildings that stretched so far it took Katara’s breath away all over again.  She watched with wonder as Appa floated them down current.  

 ***

Sokka had studied scrolls on the history and architecture of both the Southern and Northern Water Tribes, so he had had a fairly good idea what to expect when they passed through the gates.  Still, seeing the grandiose, glistening city in person was moving.  He had to admire the sheer craftsmanship of it all, particularly in the detail work.  It was while he was considering ways to replicate the building of a small tower they had passed that he saw her.

 The most beautiful girl that he had ever seen was riding in the back of a small rowboat, being guided along the canals by the smooth motions of a waterbender.  She had a rounded face and full lips which were quirked into a serene smile.  Her shockingly white hair was coiled in sections, one high atop her head and two in plaits that hung almost to her waist.  There was a regal bearing about her- her back was straight, her shoulders squared, her chin held high.  The most entrancing thing about her, though, was her wide, black eyes.

 Sokka had to shake himself out of a daze as they were finally brought before Chief Arnook.   

 The throne room was just as vast and dazzling as everything else in the city.  At its center sat the Chief upon a stark white, tall, crystalline throne draped in blue furs.  The Chief had a wide, open face and a strong square jaw.  His posture was entirely neutral as they were herded before him, his gaze appraising.  “I hear we have distinguished visitors,” he said by way of greeting, “The Avatar.  Sokka and Katara, children of Chief Hakoda.”

 “Uh, yes, that would be us-” Sokka confirmed as Aang zipped forward, holding out his hand enthusiastically for Chief Arnook to shake.

 “My name’s Aang.  Super nice to meet you.  Do you think you could help us find a water bending teacher?”

 The Chief seemed a little taken aback by Aang’s brashness, but he took his hand nonetheless, a smile stretching across his face.  “Indeed.  I will be happy to arrange adequate accommodations and tutelage for your group.  In fact, Pakku,” he addressed their escort, “As you are our best instructor, I will charge you with the Avatar’s instruction.”

 “Yes, Chief,” he replied.

 “Katara, you will report to Yugoda in the morning.  She will be notified that she has an honored guest joining her female class.”

[notgonnarememberthis]

Through the Valley - Chapter One

IT’S FINALLY HERE. The long awaited murder family au that I promised back in February is finally in motion. This chapter takes place seven months after Jessica killed Endicott and from here we’re completely throwing out the canon arc of season 2. This is the direct response to my first fic of the series Playtime’s Over, which acts as a prologue to this AU. I will be linking that just below. I hope y’all enjoy this first chapter and I’m so excited to jump into this new story with y’all.

Playtime’s Over

It’s been seven months since Endicott died, since Jessica killed him. She thought it was over. She knows it isn’t.

It had been seven months. Seven months since Gil was stabbed, seven months since her family was irreparably torn to shreds, seven months since Nicolas Endicott died.

Since Jessica killed him.

Her life settles back into normal with far too much ease. She takes the role as Gil’s caretaker, nursing him back from his injury. He stays with her longer than either of them expected. Ainsley moves back in after the incident. If she suspects anything, she doesn’t tip her hand.

Jessica taught her far too well to give away information too carelessly.

Malcolm, however.

He’s absolutely beside himself. The longer time stretches, the longer they go without hearing from a dead man. The more it hurts him. The more she hurts him.

She wonders when is the last time he had slept for more than 2 hour increments. He hasn’t sat down and had a proper meal with them since. She doubts he’s feeding himself properly. If hearing from Gil is any indication, he’s just as bad at work too. Falling asleep on the job, springing up in a terror, excessive use of his favorite phrase I’m fine.

Guilt gnaws at her stomach every time she looks at him.

She arrives at the hospital again, hours after. Eyes more vacant than when she left.

It changes the second Ainsley crashes into her arms. “Mom, thank god.” She returns the hug, squeezing her daughter close with all her might. Knowing she’s safe, that they both are safe. It almost loosens the tension in her chest. “Malcolm’s with Gil. He’s ok, surgery had some complications but it’ll just be a longer recovery. He’s going to make it.”

She lets out a breath, at least something is going right. Less so than Adolpho who’s cleaning the house as they speak. Ridding of the blood stained rug before any of them are the wiser. “Thank god.”

“What happened? I thought-” Her voice catches in her throat and Jessica pulls back. Sure enough Ainsley’s bottom lip quivers.

“I was not letting Nicolas Endicott take our family down. Certainly not me.” She strokes her chin with the best comforting grin she can muster. “I kept him busy long enough. I was trying to get authorities there but I couldn’t just reach for a phone.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He got away before I could. I actually believe I managed to scare him.”

Ainsley’s smile tells her enough. She believes the story. Malcolm will be a harder sell. “He’s running?”

“For now.”

“Good. We’ll be ready when he comes back.” She kisses Ainsley on the forehead, the weight of lying to her settling into her bones. He won’t be back. Not now. Not ever.

“Mom.” Malcolm’s voice cuts her spiraling thoughts. He’s wrapping his arms around the both of them before she can even turn to face him. She frees her arm from between them, looping it around his shoulders. She clutches the back of his coat holding both of her children close.

If she’d just been a second too late. If she’d have hesitated.

But she didn’t.

Malcolm breaks the embrace first. Eyes already ablaze with questions. “Where is Endicott?”

It only got worse. Constant questions forcing her to recall the night over and over. Dani, JT, hell even Gil had questioned her when he was finally cleared to return to duty again. All worried about the lingering threat, all more worried about Malcolm unraveling at the seams.

Her fingers hover over the phone. One call.

An anonymous tip. 

This could all be over with. She could end the agony after all this time.

One call.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The knock startles her. She’d been waiting for it, waiting for him. Yet, ever since Endicott she jumps at loud noises. She’s good at masking it, for others. When she’s alone it’s harder. She gets stuck into a whirlpool of thoughts and-

“Gil.” She smiles at him when she opens the door. “I didn’t know you were coming, I would have put on something nicer.”

“You look beautiful, Jess.” Her chest swells with the compliment. They put this on hold while he recovered. Despite the many times she’d helped him up, how many times she fell asleep beside him. They hadn’t moved past the first kiss. God she desperately wanted to move forwards.

“What brings you here unannounced?” She knows exactly why. She’s been waiting for the news to circulate.

“Have you watched Ainsley’s broadcast?”

“No?” She hadn’t. It hurt too much. She tried. Yet the second Ainsley’s face appeared, glee filled eyes and a dazzling smile, she clicked the television off.

She would be happy, Jessica thinks. Happy that the man who haunted her family for the past 7 months is dead. Finally found and free of the fear he carried in his grasp. “Jess,”

“Gil.” She takes a breath. “You found him, didn’t you?”

He nods in confirmation. Jessica wishes she could say she was faking her reaction, exaggerating it somehow. Yet the fear is too real, her relief that the secret is finally out is too real. “A camper called in skeletal remains at a clearing a couple of hours from here. We ran the dental records, they’re a match for Nicholas Endicott.”

“He’s dead.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. I wanted to get the news to you before you saw anything.”

“Thank you, Gil.” It hurts when he looks at her like she’s bound to shatter. His movements are careful when his hands settle on her shoulders. “How’s Malcolm?”

“He’s gonna be ok.” She smiles sadly. That’s not entirely true. They both know it. “He’s relieved. He can finally take a breath for the first time in months.” He won’t. He doesn’t know how to. Gil’s hands run down her arms until he is holding hers. His touch sends a shiver up her spine. “It’s over Jess.”

His words make her breath catch in her throat. For months she’d worried, she paced, sprung up from nightmares. He’d witnessed it all. He pulls her to him, his arms wrapping tightly around her and everything gives. Tears she didn’t know were there slid down her cheeks as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“It’s over.” He repeats, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. She wants to tell him. She wants to tell him so badly that for her, it will never be over. The smell of smoke lingered on her with every passing breath. His unseeing eyes watched her in every reflection.

As her shoulders shake, Gil holds her tighter. As if trying desperately to hold her together.

And she thinks this could be enough.

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 2

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Summary:  Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1,

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the best beta I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this.

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Chapter 2.

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There are no strangers here;

Only friends you haven’t yet met.

(W. B. Yeats)

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In the past three weeks, Killian had had no news of Henry or his mother. He knew he should concentrate on something else: whatever was happening in their lives was none of his business. But he hadn't been able to let go of the memory of their last encounter. What if the lad was right and Emma was in danger? She didn't look like the successful Princess of a remote planet anymore, and maybe her life wasn't any fairytale. But what could he do? And above all, was it really his problem?

Tonight was a fillglow night. Killian was waiting for Robin and Roland to join him and watch the match together on his big projecting screen. He and Robin had been long fans of this sport, and Roland took the same passion from them. 

Killian had already prepared some bowls of multicolored pop grains. The only kind of grains that could grow on this desert planet, and they didn’t need to be rehydrated to be eaten. Luckily Roland loved them, especially the cones and star-shaped ones. The boy and his father were supposed to bring the drinks, which consisted mainly of berry juices. It was the most similar to a family routine they had, every fortnight a match was broadcast and Killian enjoyed the time together with his buddies.

Fillglow was a very popular sport in many galaxies, there was even a Multiverse Championship. Roland would have given anything to get tickets for the FMC finale, he had never watched a match live, none of them had. Tonight’s match was a local one, not pivotal, but it didn't matter, it was a good excuse for Killian to spend some time with his adopted family. 

But the thoughts of the late events had distracted him, and he didn’t realize what time was. The projector was already on and the match was about to start. A knock on the door startled him. He hurried up to open with a big grin, “you're late, mates!” Two puzzled pairs of eyes were staring at him, but they weren't Roland’s nor Robin’s.

“This is a terrible idea.” Emma sighed while Henry enthusiastically exclaimed, “Killian, you're home, great!”

Killian was a bit taken aback by the unexpected visit and he didn't know how to react. Before he could say anything Emma went on, “I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have come.” 

She was already turning away when Killian stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. “Well, now that you're here, why don't you come in?” 

Emma reluctantly entered the house followed by her delighted son, but when Killian was about to close the door, a shoe between it and the frame stopped him. “It’s bad form to close the door on someone’s face, mate!” Robin appeared in Killian’s sight, mocking his friend imitating his way of speech. “I didn't know you were having guests.” The surprise on Robin’s face was apparent as soon as he spied the other people inside Killian’s living room.

“Uh…” Killian was a bit lost for words and he lifted a hand to scratch a spot behind his right ear, a habit he had when feeling uncomfortable. “Robin, this is Emma Swan; Emma, meet my best friend Robin of Locksley.” 

Roland ran inside the house. “Hi!” he exclaimed with a big dimpled grin.

“...and this is Robin’s lad, Roland,” Killian added.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Henry, Killian’s son.” Henry extended a hand to shake with the other boy.

Killian sighed and shook slightly his head towards a baffled Robin, who was staring at him with wide-open eyes. He hoped that his friend wouldn’t ask. “Why don't we all get comfortable?” He suggested and then turned to his guests, “we were about to watch the fillglow match. We would be happy if you join us.”

Robin took a seat at one end of the couch, Killian was in the middle and Emma took the other end, leaving as much distance between them as possible. She was wearing a beige blouse with metallic colored sleeves, and a loose keen-short matching skirt, with long light brown leather boots. At first glance, it might seem like a casual choice of clothing, but the ensemble was in harmony. Killian would take a peek at her from time to time while she wasn't looking, and it struck him how beautiful she was.

Roland and Henry sat together on the double footstool in the middle of the room, with a big pop grains bowl in the middle. “What's your favorite fillglow team?” Roland asked.

“I'm not really into it,” was Henry’s answer.

Roland was surprised. “You do know the rules, don’t you?”

“I’ve never been a big fan of sports in general.”

Killian decided to help the boy and started explaining, “Well, it’s quite simple. Two teams, six players each. The goal is to score into the other team’s round target until it lights up.”

“What’s difficult is that they play in no gravitational environment. So they are a bit limited in their movements. Plus their suits are heavier than they seem.” Robin added.

“You have to block opponents using a laser stick, but you can’t hit the adversary wherever you like - you’re allowed to hit only certain spots of the other’s suit.” Killian went on, “when you touch someone with your stick on one of those spots, this person gets paralyzed for a few seconds. The more difficult the place you hit, the more time your opponent stays immobile. The belly usually gives you the most time stuck.”

“But if you touch someone where you’re not allowed to, you get stuck for six seconds,” Robin added. 

“If you get to touch the other team’s target with your stick, it will start glowing, but you are not allowed to score again before other players touch it,” said Killian. “You need 27 scores to make the target glow completely, or better said, to fillglow it. And that’s when the match ends.”  

“You may think it’s easy, but it’s not,” Roland said excitedly. “You know, I went to a fillglow stadium once with daddy and uncle Kil. I could enter the field, but with the heavy suit it took me almost 20 minutes to reach the other team’s target, and I was alone, with no opponents to block me. It’s strange because you’re floating in the air, so you can’t walk. It’s almost like swimming, but more difficult.”

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~·~·~·~

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After the fourteenth point of the opposite team, the commercials started and Killian took a handful of pop grains from the main bowl near the kids.

“Why are you always wearing a glove on your left hand?” Henry asked.

“Uncle Kil has got a bionic hand,” Roland explained.

“Can I see it?” Asked Henry with curiosity.

“Henry!” Emma scolded, but Killian dismissed it with a wave of his right hand. “It's alright,” he said and removed the glove to reveal a transparent synthetic hand full of cables inside.

“Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “Did you make it?”

“No, lad. I bought it.”

“But he changed it way better,” Roland added.

Killian chuckled, “I just improved it to achieve some more movement.”

  “Now it's almost the same as a real hand.” Roland was clearly proud of his uncle’s job with the prosthesis.

  Henry put his hand on it. “Do you feel it?”

“I'm sorry, I can't,” was Killian’s gentle answer, and when Henry retracted his hand a bit disappointed, he went on, “but I can do this.” He took a big star-shaped pop grain and showed it to Henry with his bionic hand, then he closed it into a fist and turned it upside down; when he opened it again the grain had disappeared. 

“Wow!” The kid was impressed. “Would you teach me to do it?”

Killian put the glove on the hand again. “Maybe, someday.”

When the boy asked, “why do you keep it covered?” his mother coughed to draw his attention and stared at him with a reproaching look. But Henry didn’t relent. “Mom, don't you think it's impressive?” He asked enthusiastically.

Killian smiled at Emma, trying to relieve her clear embarrassment. “Indeed it is, yes,” she sheepishly smiled back at him.

Henry asked, “How did you lose your hand?” Emma sighed but before she could scold her son again for making so many private questions, Killian said, "Well that, lad, is a story for another night." 

“Killian is right.” Robin stepped in. “It's time to go to bed, Roland.”

“Oh no!” The little kid complained. “The match is not over yet.”

“And you know perfectly well that it can go on for ages because it doesn’t have a time limit,” his father reasoned.

Roland looked up at him with big pleading eyes. “Can I at least show Henry my room before going to sleep?”

Robin sighed but gave in. “Ok. But don't be long.”

.

.

~·~·~·~

.

.

Emma looked concerned when the boys disappeared out the front door. “No need to worry,” Killian said. “Robin lives just next door.”

“How did you two come to know each other?” Robin asked while the three of them were moving to sit at the table, and Killian was handing them some cups filled with a liquid a bit stronger than berry juice.

“Uh… we met many years ago.” 

Killian exchanged a questioning glance with Emma. He didn’t know how much of their story she was willing to share. But apparently, the silent communication didn’t go unnoticed to Robin, who, clearly remembering where he had already heard her name, asked Killian, “Is she the Emma?” But then he immediately turned towards the woman, “I beg your pardon.” He said apologetically. “I’m not used to being in front of a Princess.”

“Please, don’t call me that, especially not in front of my son. He doesn’t know the whole story.”

Robin nodded. “I had that impression. And I’m confident he is not actually Killian’s son, right?”

Killian half-smiled at his friend in assent, then he turned to Emma, “Henry seems to be a clever lad. How long do you think you can hide his past?”

Emma sighed. “I hate keeping things from him, but it’s safer this way.”

“Is he right?” Killian insisted. “Is there truly someone that could represent a danger for both of you?”

She didn’t reply, she lowered her stare and fixed it into a specific spot on the table. “Not an immediate danger, no. But maybe in the future... yes. That man that Henry thinks I’m afraid of, he’s my contact; maybe not the sweetest person in the galaxy, but he’s reliable. He told me there will be raids soon in my neighborhood. That’s why we came here tonight. I hoped you could give us some advice. You’re a trader, aren't you? You should know a lot of people, maybe, influential people.”

“Does anybody know you are here?” Killian inquired.

“I didn’t choose my job by coincidence. If I'm good at finding hidden people, it means I know exactly what to do when I don’t want to be found.”

“Who’s after you?” Killian went straight to the point.

Emma seemed to ponder the question for a few seconds, then said, “not me, Henry.” After a small pause, she went on, “the King and Queen of New-Tolemac are still in need of an heir.” 

“Do you think your parents will harm the boy?” He asked inquisitively. 

“They are not my parents.” Killian and Robin shared a surprised look, but Emma kept her gaze fixed in her cup; she didn't seem inclined in giving more details, and Killian knew it was neither the time nor the place to pry. But then she added in a whisper “...I can’t lose Henry. He’s all I have.”

Killian studied the woman in front of him, there was no trace of the pompous arrogance he saw in her when they first met. She was now a mother, a tough one, fighting her demons for his son’s sake. 

“I have to go away for a few weeks, I have a commercial trade to make for a client. Why don’t you and your boy come with me? I’m not going very far, and maybe you can consider it as a holiday. What do you say?” He suggested. 

“Henry would love it, he’s never been on a spaceship.” She smiled to herself, her gaze lost in thought, then she lifted her eyes to find Killian’s “Thank you,” she said serious, “but I can't answer right now. I'll think about it.”

“Ok, guys, while I enjoy the company, I have to put Roland to sleep.” Robin stood up and took his cup to the little sink in the corner.

“Yeah, sure, I’ve already taken up so much of your time.” Emma stood up as well and started moving towards the door.

“Stay. Just for the night... or more.” Killian was stammering, but at Emma’s bewildered look, he scratched behind his ear for the second time that night, a bright red colored his cheeks “...I… I didn’t mean…” 

“What my friend is so awkwardly trying to say,” Robin explained, “is that it’s already late, and it could be dangerous for you and your son to go back to your place by yourselves, especially if those rumors of raids are true. If you want, Henry could sleep with Roland, you could stay in my room and I will crash on Killian’s couch. You won't hear any complaints from us.” 

.

.

~·~·~·~

.

.

The Jolly Roger wasn't the biggest spaceship in the multiverse, but it was big enough to host a small crew and a little cargo.

In the middle of the main entrance, there was a round table with four chairs, everything well secured to the floor. A lot of lockers filled up the walls and a counter opposite the gate served as a kitchen, with a microwave, a little fridge, and a sink.

A big electric sliding door on the right, usually open, led to the main cabin. A semi-oval room mainly occupied by the control dashboard full of buttons, LEDs, and levers, two comfortable leather armchairs in front of it, and walls as well rich of small lockers when not occupied by the big curved window.

On the other side of the entrance, opposite the control cabin, there were a couple of automatic doors. One of them led to the passengers’ cabins, each one with bunk beds, a small desk, and more lockers on the walls. The other door led to a hallway and a little but all equipped restroom. 

In the hallway, a metal spiral staircase led to the under part of the ship, which consisted mostly of the engine room and a storage room with its own gate used for loading the cargo.

Killian was sitting in front of the control dashboard, checking the air pressure inside the cabin, and verifying that all the levels were stable. 

The last four days had been different, with Emma and Henry at Robin’s house, the routine had been turned a bit upside down. They had decided that going back to their house wasn’t safe. Henry had been occupied with school and homework most of the time and he had spent the rest of it with Roland; the two of them had connected quite well, despite the age gap. 

Emma had been concentrated on her job, and although Killian would have liked to give her a hand whenever he could, she hadn’t even let him help her when she brought some of hers and Henry’s belongings from home to her new lodging. 

Dinners together had been sometimes awkward, and Killian had had the feeling that she was trying to avoid him. That’s why he had been surprised when she abruptly accepted to go with him on his next trip.

And now he was sitting in his spaceship cabin waiting for her and her son to come. Everything was ready for takeoff and the engine was already roaring. A red LED on the dashboard started to blink and a cold metallic voice was heard through the cabin. 

I detect intruders on this ship.

Killian smiled. “They are not intruders. They are guests, so be gentle.”

Emma entered the cabin carrying a small suitcase. “Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.” She said looking around, but when she didn’t find what she was looking for, she added “Uh… I thought I heard voices. To whom were you talking?”

Killian stood up from his seat “Where are my manners? Emma Swan, let me introduce you to the Jolly Roger.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “The Jolly Roger. Seriously?”

“What can I say? I have a soft spot for pirates.” He smiled.

The metallic voice spoke: It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan. 

“Your ship speaks!” Emma was astonished.

“Indeed she does. She's a marvel.” He explained with a big grin.

A sound like a soft metallic cough could be heard, and Killian couldn't help giggling.

“Well... then, nice to meet you, too.” She said to the air, and then looking at Killian again: “Where can I put our bags?”

“Right. I'll show you your cabin and the rest of this place.” He said, and then with an overdramatic bow and a wink added: “Consider yourself at home.”

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

Another soft cough could be heard.

“Are you sure your ship is fine?” She asked, perplexed. “It sounds a bit congested.”

“Don't worry about her, she can be a bit of an arse with strangers. But give her some time and she will grow fond of you.” At those words, the red LED suddenly stopped blinking and went off. Killian shook his head and chuckled.

As soon as he was sure that Emma and Henry were well settled in their cabin, Killian came back to the controls and took off. When the ship was out of Althea-Seals’ atmosphere he sighed in relief because everything had gone as planned, but he knew that he couldn’t relax until he’d reached a certain distance.

The red LED started blinking again. Would you do me the favor and stop referring to me as a female?

“You're a spaceship,” Killian answered the voice.

Exactly my point. And you and I both know I'm not only that.

[imagines-r-s]

The Irony of Soulmates

chapter 1: sex,money,feelings,die//Lykke Li

What happens when soulmates and mobs collide? An already messed up world combined with the idea of a person set to be perfect for you, something is bound to go wrong. When soulmates are brought into the world of the three most powerful mobs in London, what will happen? This is all bound for destruction, but love appears in the most ironic ways sometimes.

 series masterlist  ||  prologue ||  chapter 2  ||

A/N: i’m so sorry this took so long, school just finished, so I should have more time to write 

WC: 2.7k

taglist: @spideyyeet​ @quaksonhehe​ @whatdoyxumean​ @ineedmorestyles​ (comment or send an ask if you would like to be added)

You might not have known much in your 21 years of age, but there were a few things that you were for sure about: mobs and soulmates do not mix; mobs and friends do not mix; mobs and love do not mix. 

Any sort of connection in this line of work was dangerous, it didn’t matter the degree. Friends were dangerous, soulmates were dangerous, and love, in general, was dangerous. Soulmates made this line of work hard, you had to completely give up any idea or hope of meeting your soulmate.

You couldn’t even fathom the idea that the universe somehow had your perfect match set up for you. Joining you together with a stupid mark that showed up when you were 18 that matched you with who you were meant to be with and then once you kissed, you’d be able to communicate telepathically. It was a ridiculous concept that you paid no mind to.

Whenever doing work, your mind always went back to the time before you were as involved in all of this, back to when you still had friends, when your parents were still here, and before thinking about this stupid rivalry took up a majority of your time. 

Being made second-in-command of one of the biggest mobs in London at the age of 16, after the death of your parents, was a major change that happened in your life even at the age of  21, you still haven’t completely adjusted to it if you’re being completely honest. The only thing keeping you together was your older brother and your best friend. 

Everything in your life before you turned 16 was perfectly fine, you had friends, school was great, you could live a normal life without certain stressors, and people you trusted at one point weren’t your enemy. But here you are 5 years later, working hard as second in command, living with your brother in a huge mansion, and living the lavish life while committing crimes and getting away with it every single time. 

Around this time of year the annual Gala of London, your favorite event of the year, you got to dress up, look nice, dance, and annoy the Hollands--which was your favorite part. This event made it easy to pull stunts against the Hollands and the Hughes, without terrible repercussions as it would lead to bad publicity. 

14 days before 

The sound of your heels clicking was the only thing you heard as you walked down the long hallway of your mansion. The smell of bourbon mixed with cigarettes filled your nostrils as you finally reached Harrison’s office. When you knocked and didn’t get an answer you walked in, assuming correctly that he was on the phone. 

You rocked on your heels as you waited for him to get off the phone, which lasted a shorter amount of time than you anticipated. “What do you want?” you asked as you sat at one of the chairs near his desk. “Well, hello to you, too,” you grinned.

“What’s up?”

“Just letting you know, that there’s a possibility I won’t be there at the Gala,” you were confused as to why he said it so calmly, but you were shocked to hear the news. 

“What do you mean you won’t be at the Gala?”

“I mean I have things to do that I can’t necessarily tell you right now, but if I can’t make it you’ll need to get information from the Holland’s,” he continued without looking at your facial expressions,” they’ve apparently interrogated one of our men that went rogue, but to find out who it is, we need the file from their computer.” Haz stopped talking and finally looked up at you, “what’s wrong?”

“So you mean to tell me that, a.) you won’t be at the Gala, b.) you want me to go on a solo mission while being in the Holland mansion, and c.) one of our men went rogue and you didn’t tell me. Haz, you can’t just keep shit like this from me, I’m your second, I should at least be informed on these things,” the feeling of betrayal after hearing he kept secrets from you and then expected that much of you, was a lot to take in all at once. 

“Yes, y/n, you’re my second-in-command, I am in charge here and although you help, you don’t always know everything as soon as it happens,” you scoffed. “Ok, Harrison, ok.”

You left as quickly as possible, making your way over to the east wing of your mansion where you assumed your best friend, Zendaya, would be. Luckily for you, Zendaya was also a part of the Osterfield mob, her parents were friends with yours when they were still alive, so you and her grew up together. She was only two years older than you were, making her and Haz the same age. She was able to move into the Osterfield mansion when she turned 18, she was family to you, being the older sister you never had. 

You tried hard not to cry, you usually didn’t. Keeping the basic, heartless facade that helped you get by in this line of work, but the fact that Harrison was the one to say something that hurt you bothered you more than you cared to admit. You and Haz acted the way that normal sibling rivalries go, but you would also literally kill anyone that hurt the other. The one thing that you both bonded over the most was leading, now that he was leaving you out of things--or that you became aware of it--hurt you more than anything. 

By the time you made it over to the east wing, you saw Z reading in your library. “Z, I need your help,” you smiled at her, knowing you probably interrupted her reading time. 

She glared at you, “You’re lucky I love you, y/n/n, so lucky. What do you need?”

“Soooo, the gala is coming up…” you said, hoping that she would catch on to what you were implying. 

“And?” she said waiting for your explanation. “And I need your help to find a dress to wear. Subtle, not too slutty, but slutty enough.” She simply rolled her eyes at you, “yeah, I get what you mean.”

You and Z headed to your favorite boutique in London, just so both of you could find the perfect dress. After trying on as many dresses as you could find that you liked, you finally settled on a velvet, emerald green long sleeve dress with a slit, that went up to your mid-thigh; the only issue was the dress showed way too much of your shoulder, which is where your soulmate mark is. 

You had mixed feelings about your soulmate mark. Your soulmate mark was an outline of a crescent moon on your left shoulder, the mark was beautiful, but you couldn’t show it. If you did, anyone would be able to use it against you. You didn’t want your soulmate to be harmed because of your actions. You always had to alter your clothes to where it couldn’t be seen, but you’d done it for the past 21 years and you would continue to do so until you died. 

“So, what happened between you and brother dearest today?” you expected her to ask sooner, but the question still took you by surprise nonetheless. “Uh, I don’t know honestly. He didn’t tell me some information and it just bothered me that’s all.”

“Well, did he say why he didn’t tell you?” she had made a valid point, maybe if he had told you why you wouldn’t have gotten so upset. “No, he didn’t tell me why.”

Zendaya, being the only rational person in your life, made you realize that maybe if you talked to him, he’d tell you what was up. 

When you got home Harrison was nowhere to be found, so you just left it at that. 

10 days before

“I’m just going to bring in the shoulder part of the dress, that way it covers your mark,” you nodded in response to Robert, your tailor. Even though the people in the mansion did work for you, you had grown close to many of them over the years. 

Robert was always able to make alterations that covered your soulmate mark, and you were so thankful for that. “Ok, y/n, how does this look,” you looked up at the full-length mirror in awe, you were already in love with the dress and you were thankful that it could be fixed. 

“I love it, it looks great,” you beamed at how nice the dress looked on you, “thank you so much.”

“Make sure her mark is covered,” a voice you hadn’t expected to hear, said. You honestly hadn’t anticipated to see Haz for a few more days, so hearing his voice surprised you a lot more than you wanted to admit. 

“It is, trust me,” you replied, not looking away from your reflection in the mirror. 

“Robert, if you’ll excuse yourself, I need to talk to y/n,” Robert nodded and left the room quickly, shutting the door on the way out, “look, I’m sorry about the other day, but you have to understand that I only keep things from you to protect you, I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt you.” 

“I appreciate the apology, but please know that I can hold my own and I understand you keeping info away from me for my safety, but piling it all on me in one sitting was just a lot. Now, how do you like the dress?” Haz smiled at the fact of how quickly you deflected the conversation.

“It’s very nice, but I know someone that will be happy to see it,” he smirked as he saw your smile falter. 

“If you mean Holland, then stop.” You and the oldest Holland had a strange relationship. Before your life went to hell, you and him were extremely close, considering the fact that you were on opposing sides. You two had been through a lot, but when things got difficult between the mobs, everything changed. The exact reason you knew that friendships never worked in this line of work. 

“You’ll definitely grab his attention, but on the topic of the gala, the meeting I was at didn’t go as successfully as I had anticipated, so I won’t be at the gala.”

“I can’t go to the gala alone and try to get information, especially at the Holland mansion,” he was asking a lot of you, but you still had doubts. 

Harrison made his way over to you, “y/n, you’ll be fine. I already know that you aren’t scared of them, and I know Tom wouldn’t hurt you even if he had to,” he laughed. 

“Just because he’s gone soft doesn’t mean anything,” Harrison scoffed at your statement, he knew better than anyone how much of a soft spot Tom had for you, he hoped that you were smart enough to notice. “The only soft spot he has is for you. I hope you realize that.” Haz left you without saying anything else; you were smart enough to know that Tom did have a soft spot for you, it was very obvious, but you didn’t want to think about that much. 

6 days before

Physically, you knew you were ready for this mission. Everything was set: the dress, the look, the plan, everything. Emotionally and mentally, not so much. You were so used to Haz being there with you, that it was a weird transition to be on your own.

Haz had left early this morning, you still didn’t know where, but after he apologized you could respect it to an extent. You were hopeful that when all this was over he’d be able to actually share information with you, but you could only hope. 

The past few days had sped past you in a blur, as they were just you doing the same things every day: wake up, have breakfast with Z, fill out paperwork or do anything Haz needed you to do, shower, and go back to sleep. You had a simple routine that you made sure to always stick to, especially when Harrison was gone. 

2 days ago

You were trying not to overthink the situation, knowing that it would only make things harder for you. The plan was simple: don’t draw too much attention, then get in, get information, and get out. You knew that you would be fine, but the looming thought that something could go wrong was running through your head. There was also the fear that you would disappoint Haz, this mission was necessary, especially considering the fact that you needed to figure out who the person who had gone rogue was.

You were brought out of your thoughts with a knock on your bedroom door, “come in.” Zendaya walked into your room and sat next to where you sat at your bay window. You two sat in comfortable silence for a while, until she finally broke it. 

“You know you’ll be fine, right. Plus, I’ll be right there if you need anything.” You didn’t say anything, because, in all honesty, you didn’t know what to say. You knew she’d be there and you knew there was only a slight possibility that things went wrong, but you weren’t prepared for what would happen if it did go wrong. “Everyone will be on their best behavior while at the Gala, the only person you might have to worry about is maybe Corina, even then we both know you could take her easily,” you couldn’t help but laugh at her statement, “plus, as much as you don’t want it to be brought up, you and the Holland’s still have a history no matter how much you avoid the conversation. Now, please, get some rest. You have a very big day ahead of you.” 

Z leaned down to kiss the top of your head and you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, “goodnight, Z. Sleep well,” and with that, she left your room. 

The day of

You woke up a lot later than what you usually do, immediately going to take a shower and do your morning routine. Once you got out of the shower, you made your way downstairs, making sure to greet Robert and Pepper, your chef, on the way to your office. You kept to yourself for most of the day, until around 3pm, when you had to start getting ready for tonight. 

Although you had the accessibility for other people to help you get ready, you preferred to get ready yourself. You wanted to keep the look simple to draw the attention to your dress. You started off with your hair, doing a simple, yet elegant, half-up-half-down look that accented your features well. Then came the makeup, sticking to a more simple look, a natural smokey eye, keeping it basic by wearing red lipstick, and adding minimal highlight. 

You waited a while to put on the dress, saying as you had enough time before you had to leave. You allowed the emerald train of the dress to flow as you walked down the stairs,” woo, look at you,” you looked up to see Z waiting at the end of your stairs grabbing her clutch. “Not too bad yourself, Z.” 

You grabbed your diamond choker from your clutch, asking Z to put it on you as you put on your Osterfield ring. You gave yourself one last glance in the mirror and once you were happy with how you looked, “are you ready, y/n/n?” You nodded your head in confirmation. 

The drive to the Holland mansion was filled with talk about anything and everything and also the occasion Beyonce song to hype you both up. When you felt the limo finally come to a stop, you forced a breath out. “You’ll be okay, just don’t draw too much attention and you’ll be able to find me if you need anything,” Z said, reassuring you again. 

You two made your way up the stairs outside of their mansion, arm in arm. You took one more deep breath before walking through the door. You slowly made your way through the entrance looking around for everything you needed to when the echo of shoes were heard throughout the ballroom causing you to look up at the source of the noise, only to be met with the people you didn’t want to see: Sam, Harry, and Tom Holland. 

[goattypegirl]

Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11

Con: It’s been a while

Pro: We finished part 1!

Con: this post is hella long now.

Chapter 6

Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink. 

OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT. 

So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.

Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.

“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?

Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?

The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.

Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?

OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.

...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??

Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???

“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier! 

OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!

Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.

So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably  because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.

OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet. 

Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...

Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???

Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.

Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.

Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.

OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???

...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...

So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization? 

That makes no sense.

Something to keep in mind.

Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”

OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.

...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?

okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.

I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.

There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.”  and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.” 

...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.

So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)

ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.

“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;

Chapter 7

Sixth House icon.

There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?

JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.

Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!

Not a lot to say here besides 

fuck.

A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already. 

Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.

Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON. 

Chapter 8

No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;

So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.

Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid. 

AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.

Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House?? 

I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia. 

Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened. 

TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.

Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that. 

So,  had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.

So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”

So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.

Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...

Chapter 9

Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.

Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone. 

Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?

Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.

Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.

Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.  

Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-

First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?

bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.

Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.

ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate. 

ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.

FUCK.

(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)

Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.

Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.

And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.

Chapter 10

Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time. 

I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice. 

Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.

Hehehehe dick jokes.

Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...

HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...

Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.

Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.

HEEEEY

WHAT THE FUUUUCK

WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING

PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.

Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...

Chapter 11

Seventh House skull.

Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.

...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...