#my first cat died very suddenly just 13 months ago

[ohmuqueen]

sometimes a girl just has to spam blog Taemin and SHINee to try to forget how much life sucks

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Twenty-One ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4032

Warnings: None

A/n Hello! Sorry I’ve been absent! Life got a little crazy with family visiting and school starting again, but I’m happy to be back! I’ll see you again Wednesday with the regularly-scheduled update :)

I wake with my face buried in the crook of someone’s neck. Pushing against the solid mattress, I raise myself up and try to remember where I am. But the solidness beneath me isn’t the mattress at all. It’s Haldir’s chest. I sit up straighter, realizing that, in the night, I’d pulled myself almost completely on top of him.

He moves as he chuckles, bringing a hand up to tuck my surely wild hair behind my ear. I look down to find him smiling up at me, looking much more awake than I feel. “Good morning.”

I purse my lips, trying not to show how much I enjoy the sight of him in my bed, the feeling of waking up with him. I lower myself back down, settling against his side. His arm wraps around me automatically, securing me in place.

“Good morning,” I reply, tucking my chin against his sternum. “How did you sleep?”

He chuckles, lazily running his fingers up and down my arm. “Better than you can imagine. Though I did have an elbow digging into my stomach, there were, amazingly, no snores. And your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.”

I grin, twisting so I can better see his face. “Well, if you can suffer through being stabbed in the stomach all night, you are welcome to share my comfy bed any time you like.” I furrow my eyebrows, considering. “For the next two nights, I guess. After that, you’re welcome to share the grass beside my bedroll.”

He throws his head back in laughter, the sight so beautiful that my own giggles dies as I take the time to stare at him. How can he be so carefree and joyful when he knows his death is only a few decades ahead of him?

Our conversations last night pretty much disintegrated my resolve to end things with him, not that I had much resolve from the moment we actually allowed ourselves to be together. So weak, I chide myself. But, as Haldir has reminded me time and time again, he is an adult and can make his own choices. I have to respect that, just as he has respected that for me on numerous occasions.

But part of me worries I’m just using that as an excuse to justify my selfishness.

Because no matter how well I love him, how much joy I bring him, how happy I make his life, I will always be the one causing his death. He’s not doing the same for me. I’m the one who will kill him.

Haldir moves his fingers from my arm to my hair, tangling his fingers in the waves. I love it when he does that.

He smiles at me, distracting me from my gloomy thoughts. “I am excited for you to see Lothlórien. What do you have left to do before we leave?”

I sigh, shrugging and leaning against him. “Not much. I’ve got to tell Alex about us, hopefully he’ll take it well, but you know how he can be. I imagine Lavandil already knows, but I would still like to talk with her. After that, just packing, but I can probably put that off until tomorrow night. Packing will be easy — oh, that reminds me — do you have an extra bag I could use? That’s actually what I went up to your room to get the other night, but you confessed your love for me which was really inconvenient, because I never did get that bag.”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Please accept my most sincere apologies. Before any future proclamations of love, I shall ask if there is something you need to cross off your to-do list, first.”

“Thank you,” I huff, feigning relief. “That’s all I ask.” Once our laughter dies down, I turn the question back to him. “What about you?”

I feel him shift under me as he stretches to look toward the curtains pulled over the window s, likely trying to gauge the time by the rays of sun peeking through. “I have a few meetings lined up, as well as continued training with the guard. They’re in quite good shape, but you can never be too prepared. And, as much as I hate to say it, I must get up.” He rolls so I am under him and places a sweet kiss to my forehead. “I have stayed in bed far too long.”

I grin up at him, catching his lips in a proper kiss before following him from the warmth of the blankets. “If you must.” I eye my closed door, now fully aware that we are well into the morning hours. I cross my arms, shifting my weight between my feet. “People will see you leaving my room.”

He looks up at me, back leaned against the wall as he pulls on his boots and laces them up. “Yes?”

I shrug, taking a few steps closer to him. “Well, they’ll talk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. “Would you like me to exit via window?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No.”

“Then let them talk.” He places his foot on the ground and meets me in the center of the room. “I’ve no intention of hiding you.”

I grin broadly, surprised by how much that sentence pleases me, and pull him down for a final kiss. “See you after dinner for training?”

“Yes,” he nods, letting his hand trail over my waves as he backs towards the door. “Your armor should be done by then. I’ll bring it with me.”

“I’m not wearing it,” I shout through the open door as he passes through.

“Yes, you are,” he calls back in a confident, almost lilting voice.

I grumble.

“Ah, good morning Ríneth.”

I freeze. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.

“G-good morning, Marchwarden,” comes the stunned response. As the attendant passes my open door, she sneaks a look, her eyes widening when she sees me standing in the center of the room. I raise a hand and wave.

She scurries off.

Stifling a chuckle, I close the door and head to the bathroom to get ready for one of my last days in Imladris.

{***}

I decide to tell Alex first. Between him, Lavandil, and Baranor, Alex is the most likely to have a sour reaction, so I’d prefer to just get that over with.

He welcomes me in after one knock and I try to contain my surprise, immediately noticing the explosion of books, scrolls, and papers scattered across his room.

I step over a large pile of volumes to make it through the entryway. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Elrond said I could take some books with me, but they’re too bulky to travel with, so I’m trying to copy down as much as I can before we go.”

I nod, trying to find an area clear of stuff large enough for me to place my feet. “I bet Lothlórien has a good library.”

“I hope,” he agrees, bending to move some books so I have space. “But what’s up?”

“Um,” I press my lips together, suddenly feeling very, very nervous. My hands twist themselves in and out of each other as I look for anything to distract myself from the way my heart races. “I wanted to tell you…” Just get it over with. “Haldir and I are — together.” I wince. That doesn’t even begin to encompass how I feel about him, but how the heck do I describe our relationship?

Alex raises an eyebrow, setting the books in his hands down on the chest of drawers. “Yeah, for a while, right?”

I blink. Of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected that. “What?”

He tilts his head. “Wait, this happened recently?”

“Uh, yeah,” I huff, a little put out that he’s been thinking I’ve been secretly with Haldir and just hadn’t said anything about it. “What made you think it happened earlier?”

Alex shrugs, throwing his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t know, it was just kinda obvious something was there. I assumed the two of you acted on it around the time we got to Imladris and have just been trying to keep it a secret or something.”

“Wha—um,” I sputter, completely floored. “We’ve been avoiding each other for three months,” I defend, suddenly self-conscious of my apparently obvious feelings.

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs again, hauling a bag filled with books onto his bed. “I thought that was part of it — pretend to avoid each other to quiet the rumors, but then meet up when no one was paying attention.”

“Rumors,” I squeak, not liking the sound of that.

“Well, I didn’t hear any,” he corrects, noticing my panic. “I just, you know — the two of you seemed to click. I figured other people noticed it, too.”

He’s not wrong about that, I think, remembering Lavandil’s excitement and, before he changed his mind due to my mortality, Rumil’s.

Alex speaks again, the slightest shift in his tone. “I also figured that, well, your attachment to him is what was making you want to stay here and not work so hard to get home. Because, honestly Cosima, I can’t wrap my head around any other reason that would be strong enough to keep you away from your own world.”

“Oh. Right.” I look down at my hands, guilt buzzing in my stomach.

“But now that it’s official, I’m guessing you’ve decided?” Alex comes to stand in front of me, arms crossed in front of his chest. He doesn’t look angry, like I thought he would, just resigned.

I sigh, hating the disappointment I know I’m causing him. “Yes. I will help you figure out how to get home if you still want that, but I—I’m staying here.”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “And when I get home, what should I tell your family?”

I suck in a sharp breath. Ouch. I drop my hands to my sides, pleading with him. “Can we just—not? Please? I don’t remember them, Alex, I don’t even know if they exist, aside from nonna, who passed away five years ago. And here…well…” I sigh, mind drifting to Haldir and Lavandil and Rumil and Orophin and Baranor, and even Glorfindel. “My family—the family I chose—they’re all in Arda.”

Alex nods slowly, regarding me thoughtfully. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

I try to ease the hurt. I don’t want him to be sad. “But I’ll keep helping you, I promise. If there’s a way home, we’ll find it.”

He sighs and then smiles, though it looks tired. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. Thanks, Cosi.” He steps forward and pulls me into a hug, the action surprising me. Blinking against the shock, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. “I suck at showing it, but I am happy for you, you know,” he whispers, squeezing my shoulders.

He releases me then, and I smile up at him. “Thank you.”

{***}

After my unexpected conversation with Alex, it’s time to find Lavandil.

It’s not difficult.

Her high-pitched giggle catches me on the way to lunch, her hands whirling me around into a wall of curls. She surprises me by grabbing me in the briefest of hugs, then pulls away, gripping me tightly by the shoulders.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Orophin told me last night — he’s upset of course, but he does acknowledge that he’s never seen Haldir as happy as he is when he’s with you! And I honestly think Orophin just needs time. Bottom line, he wants Haldir to be happy and loved, and you’re doing just that. But okay, now that that’s out of the way, you must tell me everything.”

I laugh, trying to catch up with her enthusiasm and rapid-fire words. I pull her to the side of the hallway, closer to the stone wall. People are, of course, bound to find out as the week goes on, but I’d rather not shout the details of what I consider to be my most cherished moment. In a hushed voice, I recount the night Haldir and I decided to go for it, Lavandil squealing and grinning through the whole thing.

“That is so sweet,” she gushes, eyes bright. “Who knew Haldir had such a way with words!”

“I know, right,” I agree, pleased to finally be able to talk about this with one of my best friends. “And kissing him?” I place a hand over my heart in a mock swoon, earning me a delighted laugh. “I could do that forever.” But then I bite my lip, not sure how she’ll react to what I’m going to tell her next. “He uh—spent the night last night.”

Lavandil’s eyes blow wide. “Did you—”

“No.” I hurry to clear that up. “But, I mean…it’s difficult not to want to…” I sigh, feeling much better upon seeing her understanding nod. She gets it. “How do you and Orophin manage? For eight years?”

She grins somewhat bashfully. “Well, it does help that we don’t see each other very often. And a lot of times, we have to stop ourself before we end up getting married without a second thought. But it all just comes down to us acknowledging the reality of our situation — we don’t want to get married and live apart, but neither of us was ready to give up our homes, families, or careers, not until recently, so we had to wait to take that step. It was a decision we were both okay with for a while. But now…” She shrugs, her smile softens and a faraway look enters her eye. “That time is over. He’s staying here with me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.”

I smile at her, happy for my friend. “Do you…” I tread carefully, not sure how much more I can ask without intruding, “think you’ll get married then?”

“Oh, for sure,” she grins, crossing her arms over her chest. “And soon. All our reasons not to have conveniently been taken care of.”

I take her hand in mine and give it a quick squeeze. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me, too, she jokes, winking cheekily. We laugh, and then she dissolves back into her interrogation of me. Dutifully, I answer each and every one.

{***}

When it’s dark outside, Haldir knocks on my door. In his hand, he carries a dark brown bag that makes a suspicious clanging sound with every step he takes. I eye it warily. He smiles, bringing the palm of my hand to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m sorry it’s so late. The drills ran long.”

I shrug, pulling him farther into my room and shutting the door behind him. “Don’t worry about it. I was with Lavandil until about an hour ago, anyway.”

He looks at me, a note of hesitation in his eyes. “And how did that go?”

“Better than expected,” I laugh in relief. “She’s very happy for us and says Orophin shows signs of feeling better. I talked to Alex too — can you believe it, he thought we’ve been together for months!”

At this, Haldir raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. “What would give him that impression? We avoided each other for almost the entire time we’ve been in Imladris.”

“That’s what I said!” I hold up a hand to stop him. “But I’m actually not going to talk to you any more until you open that bag. I need to decide if I’m going to be mad at you or not.”

He grins broadly, setting the bag gently on the ground. “I don’t know why you would be mad when all I’ve done is bring you a present.” Haldir reaches inside and draws out silver chainmail.

“Well, take it back,” I grumble, having correctly guessed the contents of the bag. I cross my arms over my chest.

“See?” Haldir smiles, straightening with the chainmail in hand. “It’s not as bad as you thought. It can even be worn under your clothes if you like.”

I grimace, taking a step forward and running a hand over the cool metal. Experimentally, I gather the bottom of the piece and hold it in both of my hands. It’s heavy. I look up at Haldir, unimpressed. “There’s no way this is comfortable.”

He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, I’d rather have you uncomfortable and alive than comfortable and dead.” He steps forward, presses a kiss to my temple, then walks past me to lay the chainmail over my table.

I sigh. He’s just trying to keep me safe. “Alright, fine,” I acquiesce, following him further into my room. I step in front of him, trying to will my annoyance away. “Thank you for doing that.”

He smiles softly, though there’s a hint of humor in his eyes as he knows the effort I’m putting into making my tone polite. “You are very welcome. Now — go stand in the center of the room. I want to go over a few more techniques before we pause training to travel. And tomorrow, we’ll practice with the chainmail.”

I groan.

{***}

Haldir stays with me for the remaining two nights in Imladris. It’s very convenient — not only do I love having him with me, but it gives him and Rumil some much-needed space.

Over the course of our remaining days, we only had a few things on our to-do list: Inform Baranor of the development in our relationship — he didn’t seem surprised, just like he was making a very conscious effort to appear happy for us—prepare the horses, and pack our belongings and adequate provisions for the journey. On the morning of our departure, we’re set to meet at the bridge that marks the entrance to the city. Haldir leaves me while it’s still dark, kissing me while I’m half asleep and telling me goodbye. He went to ensure the horses were ready and ‘tie up a couple of loose ends,’ as he put it.

Despite the desire to sleep in, I rise with the sun, knowing we don’t have long before we leave. When I spot the chainmail laid over my table, I begrudgingly pull it on under my clothes, knowing Haldir will just send me back to get it if I don’t. It’s heavier than I want it to be, but he’s right — if we were attacked, it would provide an additional measure of protection. I don’t have to tell him that, though. Once I’m dressed, all that’s left to do is say my goodbyes and get on the horse.

I don’t want to say goodbye.

Lavandil meets me at my door. Wordlessly, she shoulders one of my bags and walks with me to the front of the estate. We step onto the lush grass, which still glints with the morning dew. Soon, autumn will creep in and the green of Imladris will turn into brilliant reds, golds, and oranges—or so my friends tell me. I hope that I will get to see it one day.

At the start of the bridge waits the rest of my company. I notice Haldir off to the side with both Orophin and Rumil. Unlike his brothers, Rumil doesn’t look up or wish us good morning. That stings—bad—but at least he’s talking to his brothers.

I search for Alex and, with a note of surprise, find him behind the horses, speaking with Elrond. I raise an eyebrow, but don’t investigate. If Alex wants to tell me about their conversation, he can.

Lavandil and I approach Faervel, who whinnies in recognition. Since Orophin is staying in Imladris, his horse is as well. Horses are apparently quite fond of their owners, so we agreed not to hurt any of them by pulling them away from their home and taking them back to Lothlórien. That means Alex still rides with Baranor and I will ride with Haldir — for now. Maybe if Rumil ends up forgiving me, I can ride Roch at some point.

I loop my bag into the straps on the edge of the saddle, securing it in place. Lavandil does the same with my other bag, tying it on Faervel’s back.

Someone behind me clears their throat, and both Lavandil and I turn around.

Elrond smiles in greeting, inclining his head. “Lavandil, would you mind if I had a moment alone with Cosima?”

“Of course,” she smiles, waving at me as she hurries off to join Orophin. This isn’t goodbye, I remind myself. I’ll catch her again before I leave.

Elrond pats Faervel on the head. “Cosima, I wish you safe travels.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Promise me,” he continues, voice turning serious, “that when you arrive in Lothlórien, you will speak to Lady Galadriel without delay. I believe she can help you and Alexander.”

I agree readily. Elrond has been so kind and helpful, of course I’ll do as he asks.

“Good.” He nods. “And, well…” he sighs, sadness entering his ageless eyes. “I pray to the Valar that you will have a happy, fulfilling life.”

Despite the well-wish, grief collects in his features and I suck in a breath, remembering exactly who his daughter is and who she loves.

I open my mouth to say — what? That I’m sorry? That I wish it were someone else? What can I say to an ellon whose daughter will die for the same reason Haldir will?  

I close my mouth.

Because no, there is nothing to say.

Elrond inclines his head in understanding and steps back, bidding a final farewell to us all before returning to his estate.

Rumil, Baranor, and Alex mount their horses.

It seems there is no more time to waste. Lavandil comes to stand in front of me, sniffling. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Tears enter my own eyes and I bite my lip, desperately not wanting them to escape and betray how sad I feel.

“The shop won’t be the same without you,” she whispers. Then, in a movement so fast I barely register the change, she flings her arms around my shoulders, drawing me in for a brief, tight hug. “Be happy.”

I pull back, smiling despite my sadness. “You too. Write to me?”

“Of course.” She gives me a watery laugh and tosses her curls over her shoulder. “Who else can we complain about them to?” She jerks a thumb in the direction of Haldir and Orophin, who put on identical expressions of affronted disbelief, and I break into actual laughter.

But when our laughter fades, Lavandil falls back, stepping out of the way of the horses and into Orophin’s outstretched arms.

Haldir walks up next to me. He crouches, ready to help me on the horse and, before I can look at the sadness on Lavandil’s face and burst into tears of my own, I put my boot in his hand, allowing myself to swing onto Faervel’s back. In the next moment, Haldir lands in front of me, taking the reins in his hands.

“Now what are all these tears about?”

I jump, startled by the loud, unexpected voice.

None other than Glorfindel, followed by four armored members of Imaldris’s guard, gallop down the path.

My golden friend sidles his horse next to Faervel, winking at me. “Good news, my dear lady, we shall not be parted so soon! Your commander—or should I say lover, now—” both Haldir and I make a face at the term, “asked for an escort through the mountain pass. My troops and I are happy to oblige.”

Haldir nods to him, serious despite Glorfindel’s exuberance. “Thank you for coming.”

Glorfindel smiles, returning Haldir’s nod. “Of course, mellon nîn.” He calls out a command and our company, much larger now, moves forward. I allow myself one final wave to Orophin and Lavandil, as well as a last glance at this shining city that had just begun to feel like home.

Before I know it, we have crossed the terrifying bridge and left the safety of Imladris behind.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day <3 And to everyone who responded to the last chapter: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, THANK YOU!!!!!

|next chapter - to be posted|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande 

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows 

[lovee-infected]

♦♥ Paint them red ♠♣

[Yandere!Riddle Rosehearts x reader] [pr 2] [pr 1]

♠♠♠♠

"Enough"

(y/n) Stood there helplessly , after all she knew better : it's always the same.

"30 days , one month , don't be late "

Again

and again

and again...

There was no end .

Fixing her dress , she bows to Riddle with a : " Thanks for the tea , Riddle ." , leaving immediately , trying her best not to run as long as being in his sight .

(y/n) was no longer a hopelessly romantic child , but a young , well grown lady instead. The girl who was known for being loud and carelessly excited about new things long away died inside her ; all that was left was an obedient , quite shell , serving its master.

It's been years since (y/n) firstly stepped into rabbit's trap and now , she could feel the hole being digged deeper and deeper each time she returned to start this mad game over which was getting longer and deeper each time ... slowly turning from a hollow to a pitch black well...

How slow and temporary , she didn't ever see this coming

At first all was a simple tea party , or that's what she thought . They'd normally talk but (y/n) wasn't ever the one to ask ; perhaps it begun because she found it rude to ask a host questions at first , but it continued because she no longer dared to ask anything . It was pretty unnoticeable at first since she was just trying to be polite against Riddle , considering his countless questions a small trend out of curiosity , but soon , things changed

Riddle begun with any simple thing others might ask : Her favorite books , animals , opinion on sweets , favorite activities to do...

(y/n) wouldn't be bothered by answering any of them , though it sometimes took hours

She must've admitted that she quite enjoyed herself spending time with him , someone who's always willing to listen to you instead of forcing you into listening to them : Riddle was often the listener , not the speaker . There were very few times she could get him talking about himself but it didn't get any further than simple comments on different types of tea and sometimes his obsession with rules . She'd asked him about his family a couple of times and he'd just...change the topic by asking more questions before she could argue

He didn't ever say a word , but (y/n) could tell it from his face : He wasn't happy . She'd spent countless hours talking about her friends and family , how much they mean to her and she loves them expecting him a similar reply or at least , a note to his family and friends . But he'd always end up being quieter than ever , not even looking her in eyes . When they were younger it used to bring him blushes on cheek and watery eyes , making him have to turn back and wipe them away before (y/n) could've seen , but she always saw .

Perhaps that was what made her want to keep playing his game for sometime longer , hopeful that she could actually change him . She thought that it's what makes her a nice person , a good friend . She really thought that it was what Riddle needed .

But he didn't

(y/n) used to believe that she was changing him , that she was taking the pain away , that she was taking making him stronger than before .

(y/n) didn't realize how she was the one being changed by Riddle , slowly becoming his doll .

Even his questions slightly changed from simple friendly ones to deep , personal accusations .

He would ask her about he smallest spots on her life : What time she'd wake up , what she'd eat , how many hours would she spend outdoor , anything she does durnig her days , even dreams she'd have

None of these seemed to be any big deal on their own , but things are different when there's someone knowing them all .

With all these years being asked and exposed from head to toe , he was starting to know (y/n) better than she did herself :

He could tell what would be the first thing that'll come to her mind when she wakes up tomorrow , and what she'd whisper slowly before closing her eyes to sleep

He could tell what will make her smile when she walks in to her house and what will make her cry after quiting her classes .

Her whole personality was a half written book and Riddle had decided to write the rest of it after reading all that was written .

sending a mild shiver down her body and mind . He was neither asking nor or dering , he was speaking of a speaking of a fact . A request can be denied , and order may be disobeyed , but his words...they were like predictions of her future . What she will do in three days...one month . He was the puppeteer and she the small , naive doll.

(y/n) could sense his heavy gaze on her each time hey met ; all of her.

She could find herself being judged into his eyes :

Head to toe

left to right

Outside to inside

She could feel them all watched-

And she didn't like it

More roses would grow every months . More time would be spent on that hellish tea parties . All of her now non-existing personality had been wiped off her , since the day her curiosity killed the cat .

She couldn't take it anymore , she was sick of it , all of it . Sick of being haunted by Riddle's phantom . She was sick of not being able to smile in years . She was sick of his '30 days , one month ' . She was sick of him

Month after month , party after party , year after year...

Enough

What was wrong with her ? Why didn't she ever try to run away ? 'because he would find her-'?

No

No he wouldn't

He wouldn't even realize how she ran off , forever. What was there to stop her...?

Roses

Roses and more roses

They weren't yet done , and will never be...

Unless...

♣♣♣♣

(y/n) stepped into the empty area , all quiet and dark now . She must've returned home hours ago , but no . Not until this ends , so she can have a peaceful sleep after years . Wind growled and trees shook , while the moon brightened up her figure standing right in the middle of the forest .

She gazed upon the rose bushes with hatred , wishing that she could burn each and every one of them in flames ; flames that have been burning her for so long .

But no , there was no use destroying all that was created by her own hands , she wasn't going to touch any of red roses. All she needed were the white ones . No more painting , never again .

She tightened her fist , feeling her blood boiling . She's been played with over the years , just to end up here . Heart broken and tired . She suddenly remembered the old moments this place carved into her heart ; times that were actually sweet . It wasn't like this before , and she never thought that it would be . There were many times she thought that she was in love with Riddle , even after he turned into a monster she'd never expected him to be . There was no deny of it , Riddle was her closet one now , he's been for so long . No one ever knew her like he did , not a single soul wished to listen to her like he always does , there wasn't and will never be anyone more willing to meet her each and every time like Riddle would , never .

She could feel her eyes teary and her throat heavy ; she couldn't help it . Riddle had stolen all of her , including her heart . She was supposed to be mad but she couldn't , Riddle was a part of her now . Just as much as she wanted to run away from him , she wished there to be a way to stnad by his side for an eternity , forever . She didn't need anyone else when he was around , he couldn't think of anything else than him . Riddle had become her one and only option , but this wasn't right . This couldn't be right. There was no way she could walk up to him throwing herself into his embrace , telling him how she felt and asking him to stop playing with her . She wish she could but no , he will never change , unlike her . She now hated how much she'd changed into such a pitty full doll , she couldn't take it anymore . There was no way of Riddle ever letting go of her thoughts , he'll always be a part of her . (y/n) wished they could've stayed together forever but this wasn't a fairy tale , life never was. She now had to let go of her fantasies and live the reality for once .

"Forgive me..." , she said as tears fell down her eyes . Her vision went blurred but that wasn't going to hold her back from seeing white roses through the night . She cut them one by one , ruthlessly , crazily , hatefully

4,5,6

She cursed herself for the first time she stepped there , cursed the world by making the two of them meet the day , and cursed Riddle for catching her heart and getting her to where she was .

9,10,11

She cried as her hands turned just as injured as her heart , filthy and drowned in blood , making her let out a silent scream

12 , 13...

She rose both of her hands to catch the last rose , the 13th...

Just to feel choked on neck and pulled back harshly by hair at once .

Riddle harshly pulled (y/n) by neck , almost breaking it . Her body hardly met the ground ,starting to wheeze , The freezing cold ground now seemed a lot warmer than her frozen mind . She apparently lost the ability to move or talk , not even daring to look up , begging him for mercy .

He knew she'd come back

Just as he knew her everything

"I'd warned you about my temper , (y/n) .Thought that you were smart enough to listen "

(y/n) wished to find a source of anger through his voice , but she didn't . It would've been way better than this terrifyingly calm and cold tone of him which made her blood run cold and her throat dry .

" I knew that you'll one day try to run away , had no idea that it'd come this soon though..." , he said , slowly pulling (y/n) up by hair , making her silently cry with her eyes closed , biting her lip to shut her scream .

"Tell me , (y/n) , " his eyes weren't at her , but at the now destroyed rose bush : " You seriously did think that all that was bounding you to me were these roses...? " his hand was pulling her hair recklessly , yet his voice managed to be calm as ever , that was just like him .

" Roses will wither , tea will run cold , copper will ring , that's the matter of nature, " his words brought you back to your first day here , the day you two met . Withered roses , half empty tea cups and ringed chest clock ...

" Not all relationships can be bound by such things , they cannot be measured by mortality and such short lasting stuff..." , he continued with his rhythmic tone , making (y/n) feel worse and worse.

" If it were just roses , you would've ran away long ago . There was something else , right ? Something that kept you coming to me ," his words are as deep as ever , making she ask herself the same question :

'Why didn't she ever run away?'

Right , there wasn't any force on her ; there never was. She was there because of the choices she , and she had made so far . It was her choice to go to the deeper part of the forest thougt her parents had forbidded her from doing so . It was her choice to come back one month after painting first half of the roses and it was her choice to keep playing this game until now , what could the reason be ? Fear ? Respect ? Curiosity..?

" What could the reason be (y/n) ? Why did you choose to come back to me each and every time? " he asked , but he certainly wasn't expecting an anwser .

" Can't you see this ? it's because I am your choice . You've got a great family , wonderful friends , and an amazing life . But were they really enough for you ? Did they ever satisfy you like they should ? "

For once , she didn't get what Riddle was saying . Satisfied ? Why shouldn't she be satisfied ? Did he really think that she preferred to be caught in the middle of the woods here with him than being out with the ones whom she really loved?

" You laugh with them , cry with them and smile with them , day to day , hour to hour , minute to minute . But is that really enough for you ?"

(y/n) remained blank at his words , unsure what to say or how to feel but...what if he wasn't that wrong...?

" When was the last time someone asked you how you feel ?"

Last time ? It was Riddle of course . He'll ask the same question everytime they meet , not even caring if he keeps getting the same anwser as before .

" You talk with them , from how cute kittens are to how sweet lollypops can be , but what was the last time you talked about yourself ? "

Last time...was there even a first time ? Did they even care to ask her about herself ? She didn't know . She was the questioner out there , unlike how she was with Riddle .She was the one to always bring up topics , no one would ever ask her anything but regular stuff or things she'd bring herself . She thought that it was all she needed to live , wasn't it enough..?

" You know it yourself , don't you ? No one out there cares for you , (y/n) . Not a single soul . Your parents protect you as a responsibility , your friends talk to you as their own entertainment and others , others are just passing by . You're nothing but an invisible shallow to them , do you like it? "

(y/n) wished she could've argued him on that point , but realizing how he had a point his throat went dry again , unwilling to face reality :

No she didn't , she hated it . She hated it all . She hated how she smiled and shouted just to gain attention . She hated all times she cut off into her friends chats just because no one was going to ask her to join , she hated everyone around her for not ever coming to her unless having a trouble or being in need and she hated how fake all her life were ,

Hated

" You needed a listener , someone who would really care to know about you and only you , someone like me . No one will ever know you like I do , not a single soul will wish to listen to you like I always do , there wasn't and will never be anyone more willing to meet you each and every time like I would , never . "

Riddle's words were too complicated for her to describe ; gloomy and sad , fluffy and sweet , bitter and sour , just like Riddle himself ; a total riddle .

" I'm the one for you (y/n) , and you're the one for me . Our bound isn't a simple strand that can be destroyed by cutting roses off , and you know it . "

He suddenly freed (y/n)'s hair , making her head bang the ground again . He leans toward her to pull her up from behind , holding her from the armpit. Just as your first time .(y/n) was now feeling all dizzy and shakey , not even able to stand if he wasn't holding her . She felt weak in legs , arms , mind , all of her . No longer sure if it was a dream or reality .

He helped her try to stand on her own feet , but didn't let go . He lowered his head to whisper into her ear : " Roses will grow again , but I won't let go of you this time . "

(y/n) was expecting something different , something romantic or low-key sweet , something that a lover might say . But uh , not all love stories are like those ordinary ones , not all fairy tales have a sweet , happy ending .

Riddle held her by waist with his left hand , while holding her right hand with the right , bringing her closer to the very last rose left . For the first time she knew what he was about to do , with your bloody hand still fresh and pleasing for him : " And now , you shouldn't waste that all " he says before bringing her hand closer to the rose , making her fingers meet its petals . This time Riddle wasn't the only one painting it , he was just holding her hand . She brushed her fingers down the soft petals , careful enough to do it as soft as possible . Her first time doing this was filled with excitement and her 10 minutes ago with hatred , but now , all that was left was a simple breeze among flowers , she couldn't even feel anything . It couldn't be called sad or happy , it couldn't be called neutral either . All that she could feel from the moment was the sight of her fingers dancing on petals , and on the other side...Riddle . His warm breathe brushing her neck , their bodies touching and tied closed as if they were actually hugging . And his heart...the feeling of it beating at (y/n)'s back . This sound was just as it were years ago , just as calm , just as rhythmic , just as beautiful

(y/n) felt empty yet...safe right there . Her future had dark and cold inside if she were to have an compliment on it now , but for now , being held close to Riddle into his warm and calming embrace , seemed enough for her ;

Enough to believe in fairy tales ...♥

♦♥♠♣

This was supposed to be finished ten days ago lol , happy non-birthday to you Ana @yandere-romanticaa 💕💕💕

Tagging : @twst-soul @kanaverni @twistedlymad @yandere-of-your-dreams @ghostiebabey @roaringyouth @yandere-wishes @tsuisute ♥

[shiishki]

okay wait, i changed my mind. you should answer all of these questions as well, if that's what you want from me >:)

oof there's a lot of it, that's what i get for wanting to be ✨aesthetic✨

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

vowels (and the importance of being me) - hunny

honeypie - jawny

pretty young thing - michael jackson

mirrors - justin timberlake

sunflower - red orange county

paradise - rude-a

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

a therapist.

ok someone else.. uhh,, my grand grandma because i only have scratches of memories but i dunno if that counts since she passed away...

*rummages through ancient scripts* uhh ok someone who isn't dead.. uhm,, tommie? yeah I'd like to meet them if i could meet anyone on earth

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

ok, the closest german, english or polish book? nvm i have english

"suddenly was. So I just said thank you a few times too, and Mum" ironically this is one of the normal lines in this book

4: What do you think about most?

the fact that I'll have to do something after school. and I don't know if i want to go to college or get a job bc i have no legitimate idea on what to do with my life. it gets overwhelming, just the lack of knowledge about the actual experience.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

Ok

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

with, tho i sleep with just shorts in summer

7: What’s your strangest talent?

not sure if it's a talent, but i can fall asleep anywhere

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

girls are pretty. boys are pretty

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

by me, yes. no one else has written a poem about me specifically. nvm, tommie wrote one and it shall rest on my wall, or desk, i need to find a place for it

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

uhh i think last month?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

i don't think so, but i am hella afraid of the possibly gigantic, terrifying things in the ocean depths that humans haven't discovered yet

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

yep, beloved legos as a lil child

13: What’s your religion?

i can't ever remember the name, but i believe gods (from all religions) exist in some way or form. so i believe in different pantheons and etc.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

walking my doggo, skateboarding, thinking about how to make the lives of my characters worse

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

behind it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

uhmm the arctic monkeys? or the strokes

17: What was the last lie you told?

i know what i want

18: Do you believe in karma?

yes, the rule of three specifically

19: What does your URL mean?

i don't know. it's something me and my sis came up with and that's just my whole identity now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

uhh greatest weakness.. i can't finish things. strength is that I'm very stubborn so maybe I'll finish that thing out of spite

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

i grew up thinking crushes were like unicorns. my ex was odd enough to argue with that i didn't love her if i didn't have a crush on her. but I think if i had to guess.. selena gomez, especially in the role of alex russo in wizard of weverly street

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

i write angry letters. sometimes they're sad letters. i write a lot of letters. except i never send them out and no one made a movie about them :}

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

jars and witchy bottles, books? scented candles

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

phone calls are stressful enough as is, i don't need you to see my reading off what i frantically wrote to not stumble over my words

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

i think so, yes, but that won't stop me from becoming better

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

hate flies buzzing right by my ear, love cat purring

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

what if I'd been born in a place where it was illegal for me (nonbinary) to live, in a time when others thought of me as a curse?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

they be chilling.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

right arm, doggo, left arm, pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

fresh air and doggo, because doggo is with me and I can't live without open windows

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

i dunno tbh

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

which one is less homophobic?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

every gender is my opposite gender. selena gomez and justin timberlake

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

to make it easier for people down the line

36: Define Art.

make thing, thing goes woo

37: Do you believe in luck?

yis

38: What’s the weather like right now?

it's nice actually, very sunny, slight breeze

39: What time is it?

12.59 am

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

i don't, but i once crashed into a fire department vehicle with my bike. bike ded.

41: What was the last book you read?

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

i legit ass don't know what gasoline smells like.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

many variations of my name, aka. Luce

44: What was the last film you saw?

i think it was Robin Hood: King of Thieves, but it might have been that half of spider-man homecoming i managed to watch with my poor internet

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

oh man i dunno... it's not an injury, but i was very sickly as a lil kid and almost died :)

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

once, years ago

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

hmmm horizon zero dawn i think

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

proud pansexual ^^

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

not really, i don't think they're big enough to be actual rumors,, meh

50: Do you believe in magic?

yis

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

meh. they suck, i know they suck, that's it.

52: What is your astrological sign?

cancer ♋

53: Do you save money or spend it?

i attempt saving. attempt

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

for my own money, sweets. i bought lizards for my cats so they can brush their teeth from my dad's amazon acc

55: Love or lust?

luv

56: In a relationship?

nope, i buy my own cookies

57: How many relationships have you had?

1, kinda toxic toward the end, very stressful, don't recommend

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

nu ><

59: Where were you yesterday?

on the fields walking my doggo

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

yep, a pastel pink hoodie in my closet uwu

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

yis, thicc warm socks

62: What’s your favourite animal?

cats

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

cuddles and food.

64: Where is your best friend?

bold of you to assume i have a best friend.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

tommie-hildebrandt, kageyuji, nekomas-kuroo, joyful-soul-collector

66: What is your heritage?

I'm a demon boi from Poland tho that's not a thing to be proud of, i mean, look at the economy. awful.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

sleeping, trying to sleep.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Pinkton. or Satan.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

this is such an odd combination of words i had to look it up. yea.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

a friend who won't laugh at me when i ask them to order smth for me because I'm too anxious to.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

excuse me? i am saving the doggo wtf. f u boss, I'm gonna sell my tragic story to the news.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) i tell my parents. b) live the hell out of them uwu c) nope uwu.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

trust.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

history maker - dean fujioka :]

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

3332

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

communication, trust, some more communication.

77: How can I win your heart?

let's not pretend to be something else to please each other, and bring some bitter chocolate.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

maybe. it could. i don't have a say in it since my sanity is held by tape.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

eat the pizza. stop caring about others not liking me/parts of me. just living for myself uwu.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

uh i dunno how the american sizes work and i don't wanna look it up so, 39, 40 fits too.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

demon boi

82: What is your favourite word?

socks.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

the bloody organ that sits in your chest and pumps blood into your body so you don't die.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

uhm im not sure if that counts as a saying, but fake it till you make it

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

blinding lights - the weeknd

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

oh a normal question people use for ice breaking, sea blue and pastel variations of it.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

like my wallpaper? or the actual picture that sits on my desk? or how my desk looks like atm? it's ugly, a lot of papers and pens and schoolbooks.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

donald trump. or the next asshole who'll try to take the rights of the lgbt and poc away

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

this. this is the question.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

yo there's a pizza somewhere in the refrigerator, want me to heat it up? we can have a sleep over and talk about our feelings :3

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

telekinesis! or shapeshifting! i could do such fun things with telekinesis ^^ yeah I'd totally eat some radioactive veggies

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

that time my "friends" got me into shoplifting, half-hour is more than enough to punch some sense into my brain and develop good music taste

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

can i save this one? i don't think i have an experience horrible enough to be erased haha

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

sleep as in.. uh no thank u. but I'm down for a sleep over with sam smith ^^

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

just me? what about my pets? my fam? it's lowkey illegal for me to go just anywhere without them owO

uhhmm, greece. imma become part of the greek pantheon out of pure spite. and maybe toronto canada.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

not any that i know of o.o

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

i think i may have but i honestly don't remember

98: Ever been on a plane?

nope, i dunno if i like planes, but I'd probably sleep if i were on one.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

yeet.

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 27: Cat and Mouse

The Thurman Show

~

[alarm blares]

SAM YAO: Five, Five! Get up, get moving. Something's triggered the mall's alarms and every zom in earshot's shambling towards your location. You need to get warmed up if you're gonna stay ahead of them. Head out of the room into the corridor.

[door opens] There should be a couple more doors at the end of the corridor. Open the first one, and – [zombie roars] Aw crap! Zoms. Slam it, quick! [door shuts] All right, we'll try straight on. Zoms that way, too. And behind you! They're blocking all our exits.

Okay, okay. Just-just think. Wait a minute, is that an open door straight ahead of you? I don't remember that being there before. And uh, no, it's not on the map. It's painted, so you'd hardly be able to see it if it weren't opne. Well, it's the best option we've got. Head through... [door opens and closes]

Ah yeah, I can see you on my cams now, Five. There's a staircase down. Wow, those steps go down a really long way. You better get moving and I'll... I'll try and work out where you're moving to.

~

SAM YAO: I can't find the staircase anywhere on the map. There shouldn't be anything this deep under the mall, but I'm getting camera access as you go down, like... like the whole place is waking up around you. You've reached the bottom, Five. There are zoms on the stairs behind you, but there's a door ahead of you you can lock from the other side.

[door opens and closes] Right, more cams turning on, and then I can tell where you are. [door creaks open] Okay... you're in a wardrobe. In a bedroom. Right, that's a bit surreal. Get out and close the wardrobe behind you, okay? [door closes]

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to your new apartment, employee! Overwhelmed? Take a moment and breathe it all in. Need to escape from it all? Well, there's your 13-inch color TV complete with walnut cabinet and Betamax video recorder!

SAM YAO: A recording of Thurman's voice. What's going on? It's like you're in a show house or something. Look for a way out, Five, I don't want you trapped in there.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Not in the mood for telly? [continues in background]

SAM YAO: It's like you've walked into the 80s. And everything's so clean. It looks box fresh. If anyone was supposed to live here, they never turned up. Right, there are zoms behind the wardrobe, so you're not going that way. Front door's locked... you're gonna have to kick it in, Janine-style.

Right, stand with one foot in front of the other about shoulder-width apart. Lift your back leg and bend it, keeping your knee as high as you can, and kick your heel straight out in front of you, remembering not to lock your knee, okay?

Go for it. Aim your heel at the door hinges. You can lean on the wall for balance if you need to. Pull your toes back as you kick, otherwise you might break them on the wood. All right, swap to the other leg, now same again. Knee up, kick out. Yep, yep, you're definitely getting there. Fantastic, Five! You've got legs like, like... a donkey. But in a good way. Yes, you're through!

Head out into the corridor. Cams are showing me you're on the ground floor of an apartment block. The doors either side of you must lead into other flats. Go straight ahead and you'll get to the main door. Did you hear that? Flies, buzzing behind the doors of those flats.

I don't want to know what's in there. Get out of the building. If the main door won't open, you know what to do. I don't understand what's going on here, Five, or why the zoms were suddenly like, herding you here, but we've got to get you out.

~

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to Thurmanville, loyal employee! To reward your tenacity, creativity, grace under fire, you've earned what everyone wants: citizenship in my own personal utopia!

SAM YAO: It's so weird. It looks like you're in a cookie cutter suburb from an American movie. Huge pastel houses with swimming pools, massive cars. But the trees are... plastic. And it's empty, like a ghost town. I think something very bad happened here. The apartment block you just came out of, someone's written inside the window with lipstick, I think. It says, “Help us.”

I can see Thurman! He's here! He just walked out of that same apartment block. Oh, he looks angry. He's looking for you, Five. Duck behind the hedge now! [foliage rustles] Okay, I can get you away. Commando crawl. Stay low to the ground and crawl forward on your forearms. Go. Thurman still looks exactly like he did in his videos. Could it be his son? It's a pretty uncanny resemblance, if it is. He's quartering the area, pacing up and down. You've got to keep moving.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Don't you dare let Thurman down!

SAM YAO: Five, just keep moving. He hasn't seen you, just keep going. Okay, right, that wall will break his line of sight. When you're ready, head for the next building, but stay low.

~

SAM YAO: Okay, Five, he's moved on. Head towards the convenience store ahead of you. I had a look on ROFFLEnet, and I don't know if this is good or bad, but I think I know where you are.

Remember how Thurman wanted to create a bunker that would survive the nuclear apocalypse? Well, there were rumors he built a whole underground town. It was supposed to be for him and the people he thought were worthy of joining him. I guess that includes you, Five.

So there must be a lift back up or another set of stairs, right? But until we find them, you need to steer clear of Thurman. God knows what he wants you for, or what happened to the people who were supposed to live here.

[door opens, bell rings]

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to Thurmart, where you can support your town through the magic of capitalism 24/7.

SAM YAO: There's a lot of food in here, Five. You could hole up in here for months, if you really like weird-colored soda and tins of hot dogs. Yeah, you'd better crank those storm shutters down, I don't want Thurman to see you inside. Grab the handle and move it up and down like your bicep curls, yeah?

Oh no, Thurman heard the shutters rattling! He's coming. Keep going, Five. They're good and thick, they're your best chance at keeping him out. Halfway. Keep cranking the handle. You're doing so well. Nearly there, Five, but so is Thurman. Keep going. That's great, Five. The shutters are down.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: I'm not finished yet.

SAM YAO: Bloody hell, he's hitting the shutters with his fists. I can't believe how strong he is. What's he done to himself? The shutters won't keep him out for long. There's no back door, but there should be a fire escape on the first floor. Head up the stairs, and mind that fruit display! You're going to - ooh... knock it all over. The fruit, Five. It's plastic, like the trees outside. The food in here, it's-it's all fake. Get up those stairs, Five. Yep, that's brilliant. You're nearly there.

Oh God, there's someone up ahead lying on the floor. He's dead, long dead. Except the body, it's-it's not decomposed, just sort of uh... it's dried out, almost mummified, like there's no bacteria in the atmosphere. And there's some of that fake fruit in his mouth. I think he was trying to eat it when he died.

I don't understand, Five. Why bring someone down here just for them to starve to death? It's-it's monstrous! The shutters won't last for long. If there's a fire escape, Five, you'll need to use the handle to crank down the ladder. Hurry!

~

SAM YAO: Okay, I've found a lift shaft on the plans that will get you back up to ground level. I think it might be in the tall building to your right, the one that says Thurman High. Smash the window and get inside. [glass shatters] You're in, Five. Man, it's like stepping into the high school from every American kids' TV show, except it looks brand new and completely empty.

Okay, go straight past that row of lockers towards the trophy cabinet. Wow, there's even a poster for the prom, Summer 1989. We never had anything like this when I was at school. I suppose Thurman thought America was the ideal of capitalism or something.

Yep, there's the lift. Press the call button quick. It's not coming. Maybe it's stuck on a higher level. Get up there and see if you can unjam it. [glass shatters in the distance] Thurman smashed a window and he's climbing through! Oh, his face, Five. He looks so angry. What does he want? Get up those stairs, go.

There's another body on the stairs. I think... I know who she is. Keep moving. All that noise has attracted some zoms. The woman on the stairs, she's a New Canton runner, vanished six weeks ago on a meds run. Her mum offered a reward on ROFFLEnet. Her name was Marsha. I guess we know what happened to her.

You're nearly there, Five. If you can get to the lift, we can get you out of there. Keep climbing. You're there, and there's the lift! Ah, but there's no up button! It's not the one to the surface. I'm so sorry, Five. Okay, there's a corridor ahead of you. I think it's a connecting bridge over to the next building. I'll get you out, just keep going.

~

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to the Thurman Institute of Technology, where today's dreams become tomorrow's reality.

SAM YAO: Five, there's a mob of zoms chasing you. Head for that sturdy-looking laboratory door past the robotics department, the one marked longevity research. I've watched the tapes back. Thurman definitely set off the alarms in the mall to use the zombies to herd you down here, just like we did to him with the water, but we can use that trick, too. [door shuts] Brace the door. You need to stop the zoms coming in. Remember your wall sitting?

Get your back pressed to the door in a sitting position, your knees over your ankles, and hold it as long as you can. Yeah, keep bracing, Five. And there's another dead body slumped over that workbench. Oh, I hate this place! She's holding... is that a Dictaphone?

[alarm blares] Okay, right, I've set off the fire alarm to distract the zoms. Thurman must be bringing people down here just like he did with you. The zoms are starting to disperse. Is it all some sort of sick game for Thurman, luring people here just to watch them die? I won't let that happen to you.

Okay, the zombies have gone, you can relax. Damn it, here comes Thurman again! Quick, Five, open the door and - No! There's no door handle on the inside! You need to find a way out before Thurman comes in, but there's no other door. That must be how the poor dead scientist got trapped. There's... there's no way out.

Hang on a minute, loads of the food's piled up around that cupboard in the wall, like it fell out... It's a dumbwaiter, Five! That's it, that's the shaft back to ground level. I think... I think I can reroute power to it long enough to get you out of there. Just give me a minute to uh... Yep, yep, it's working!

Grab the Dictaphone, we'll listen to it later. Might be something on the tape that'll explain this place. Now wedge yourself in the dumbwaiter in your wall sitting position and hit the switch. Yes! It worked. You're going up, Five. And in the nick of time, too.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: You're one of the lucky ones, one of my chosen ones. No matter how far you go, there'll always be a home waiting for you in Thurmanville. There'll always be a home waiting for you... always waiting for you... always...

~

SAM YAO: Thank God you're out of there. For a moment, I thought I'd lost you for good, but you're safe now. You can't be comfy, squeezed into a tiny food elevator, but you're nearly back at ground level and Thurman's hundreds of feet below ground along with all the zoms. The worst thing is he seems to be obsessed with you, Five. We need to figure out what's going on down there or we'll never be able to stop him.

Oh... that's weird. Your headcam’s glitching. Back on the surface, Five. Time for you to get some rest. There's someone there, Five, waiting for you outside the dumbwaiter. But that's not possible. How could he be here so quickly? It's... Thurman.

~

[adasttrawrites]

The Boombox - a Dramione one-shot

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751569

Hi! I’ve been part of the Dramione fandom since I was 13 but I’ve never written anything - this is my first attempt, ten years later. Let me know how I did!

This little one-shot is set in an AU, one year after the Second Wizarding War, where the surviving teenagers are given the option of coming back for an eighth year to complete their studies. The war criminals have been Obliviated (and are under strict observation) and all those found guilty of minor crimes have had mandatory therapy and thorough rehabilitation. 

Eighth-year students have been given a seperate common room and dormitories to allow them privacy from the rest of the school. 

xx Tina

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

It was 5 o’clock in the evening and the common room was half-filled. Several eighth-years were on their shifts to monitor their old house common rooms and patrol the hallways, Harry Potter and Ron  Weasley included.

Hermione Granger was sitting in an armchair. She was sitting incorrectly, Draco Malfoy observed from his seat on the sofa. Her back was resting against one arm and her legs were swung over the other. She was engrossed in a book, but when Seamus Finnigan set down a large contraption on the coffee table, both she and Draco snapped their heads in his direction.

“Oh my Gods, is that —?” Hermione stood up, walking over to Seamus.

“A boombox!” He looked at it proudly. “My da bought it for me! It’s charmed to work without electricity.”

Draco didn’t know what a boombox was, nor electricity, nor why Hermione Granger was so excited about the strange contraption.

“Do you have any cassettes to play?” She pushed a button and static fizzled out of the the box.

Seamus rifled through his trouser pocket and produced what Draco assumed was a cassette. By this time, everyone had gathered around. Draco watched as Hermione fiddled with the box and suddenly, music poured out of the machine. She jumped to her feet in joy.

“I love this song!”

“What is it?” Neville Longbottom asked. He was curious, having never seen a boombox, either.

“It’s a Muggle music player.” Seamus explained. “This is a Muggle song. It’s by one of the best Muggle bands in the world.”

“It’s the best band in the entire world, Seamus.” Hermione corrected, getting up from her crouched position. She addressed her fellow classmates. “It’s called ‘All My Loving’ and it’s by The Beatles.”

“Beetles?” Blaise Zabini gave Draco a funny look. The handful of students in the room who knew the song had gotten to their feet and started dancing with each other. The Slytherin students didn’t, obviously. Draco watched as Hermione grabbed Neville by the hands and pulled him over to a clear space to dance. Luna Lovegood was standing by the fireplace, wiggling her arms in the air, a distant look on her face. Draco had to admit that the song wasn’t terrible, and he found himself almost smiling when Neville dipped Hermione over his knee. Her face was pink and her curls touched the floor.

“Draco?” Pansy Parkinson tapped his shoulder. “Won’t you dance with me?” She looked nervous, but he knew she was trying to be amicable. She was making an attempt to be involved, like all the Slytherin students in their year. She had even let Ginny Weasley braid her hair the evening before.

“Uh,” Draco glanced back to the scene in front of him before tearing his eyes away to look at Pansy. He didn’t want to look like an idiot, but his rehabilitation officer told him to make a better effort in socialising. “Sure.”

They awkwardly tried to figure out how to dance to the Muggle song and were making little progress when someone touched Draco’s elbow. He turned, embarrassment flushing his face, to see Neville and Hermione smiling at him.

“Do you want us to show you?”

He could see Pansy swallowing her pride. She let go of Draco and took Neville’s hand. Draco was left with Hermione standing in front of him, looking at him expectantly. Just as he steeled himself to place a hand on her waist, the song changed. It was slower. He looked at the boombox, panicked. Hermione put one timid hand on his shoulder and the other into his free hand, forcing him to look at her.

“This one is called “Can’t Fight This Feeling”, she murmured, starting to move her feet. He followed her directions and tried very hard not to pay attention to her fuzzy cat socks or the lyrics of the song. Suddenly she twirled as the chorus began, and before long, he realised that he was leading. They were dancing.

He was dancing with Hermione Granger in front of everyone, to a love song.

“You’re doing great!” A voice broke his reverie and he looked at his dance partner, who shockingly seemed to be enjoying herself. For the first time since they met as first-years, he smiled at her sincerely. A laugh to his left made him look over to see Neville and Pansy dancing like they were the best of friends. It was odd. Oil and water mixing should have been more chaotic, but for whatever reason, coming back to Hogwarts to finish their studies was effortless. Maybe it was the fact that all the captured Death Eaters had been Obliviated, his father included. Maybe it was the desperation to cling to some normality after the previous year. Maybe it was people on both sides realising that enough of their loved ones had died. Whatever it was, Neville and Pansy were laughing and dancing in each others’ arms. As were Blaise and Ginny Weasley. As were he and Granger. He noticed that she was close enough for him to smell her shampoo. It was fruity. The music changed again.

Many times I tried to tell you

Many times I cried alone.

“Granger,” he spoke softly, barely audible over the sound of the music. Her eyes were glazed over, her gaze fixed on a button on his shirt. She looked up. He looked at the smattering of gold flecks in her brown eyes.

Always I'm surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone

Don't want to leave you really.

“What is it?”

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder

We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under.

“Thank you.”

She smiled up at him, and he wondered why he spent so many years trying to make her cry.

“For what?”

Maybe it's a sign of weakness when I don't know what to say

Maybe I just wouldn't know what to do with my strength anyway.

“For teaching me how to dance.”

She just smiled again, and let go of his hand to place it on his shoulder. Automatically, he dropped his hand to her waist and suddenly, they were closer than before. Now he could actually feel the warmth coming off her body and he wondered how someone so full of life and light could bear to be so near to someone like him, someone so cold.

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder

We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under

Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better

We belong, we belong, we belong together.

His face must have conveyed the questions running through his head because she lifted a soft hand to his face, her palm against his jaw.

“Don’t think so hard, Draco.” His name tumbled out of her mouth so casually. Like they were friends. He shot a nervous glance at Pansy, who was plastered to Neville, swaying against him like she was drunk. Actually, she did look drunk. Drunk with happiness. Blaise had picked up Ginny and was spinning around. Luna had convinced Seamus to dance with her. Everyone was dancing. It dawned on Draco that they were all drunk on happiness. This was the first time they had done something carefree in months, maybe years. It was certainly the first time in a long time for him.

We can't begin to know it, how much we really care

I hear your voice inside me, I see your face everywhere.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did.” The words were out before he could think. He gently clutched her arm. The raised lettering made him shudder and he focused on her with an intensity that made her blush.

“You didn’t do this.”

Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better

We belong, we belong, we belong together.

“Then I’m sorry for what I didn’t do.”

For standing by.

For not being brave.

For not saving her from Bellatrix.

For being a coward.

“You know,” she pulled his neck down and whispered into his ear, “I forgave you long ago. It’s over now. We’re fine, you and me.”

He reared back slightly, stunned. How could she? How could she forgive so easily? How could she let go of the pain and suffering that his side had caused her? Was it so easy for her? Was she so good?

“I don’t deserve it.”

His shoulders were tense and he knew she could feel it. Her hand found its way to his cheek, again, and he revelled in how the warmth could make his whole body feel warm. She continued to speak softly.

“Everyone is trying to move on, Draco. So many people died for us to be here today.” She lookee down at the carpet and he knew the dead were still haunting her. She looked up at him, again. “If I hadn’t forgiven you, they would have died in vain, and we would still be fighting. I don’t want to fight anymore, do you?”

He shook his head. He wondered if she had always been this wise. A know-it-all, yes, but wise? Perhaps he wasted so much of his effort on being cruel that he never stopped to think of how valid she was. A witch, more deserving of the title than most, and a good person with a heart of gold, he knew that to be true with no doubt in his mind.

“Thank you.” He absentmindedly tugged one of her curls and watched it bounce back to sit on her collarbone. “Thank you for everything. I don’t deserve it.”

She shrugged. “Thank you.”

“What do you me— why are you thanking me?”

“For letting me teach you how to dance.” She winked at him.

He offered her another smile and, suddenly unsure why his heart was beating so hard, dipped her as the song finished. She stood back up and laughed. It was a lovely sound, one he had never heard before. They weren’t dancing any more, just standing far too close to each other, still holding hands. Over her shoulder, he saw Weasley and Potter enter the room. Potter looked confused, the Weasel looked horrified. Before either of them could cause a scene, Draco bent down to brush his lips against Hermione’s knuckles and smiled, gratefully.

“Another time. Your friends are waiting for you. Goodnight, Hermione.”

Before she could say anything, he was walking away towards the male dormitory. She stood there, amazed at how warm he was, and how cold she felt without him holding her.

“Hermione, what the fuck were you doing?!”

- written by Tina (@whyboyfriendwhenicecream) 

[cptn-stvngrntrgrs]

A Post-Avenger Nick Fury accidentally goes to the future and sees his two best agents (Steve and Nat) are married. Natasha notices Nick isn't from their timeline (she just knows lol black widow tingle) and Steve gets a smug grin and just says "Best matchmaker ever" Nicky Fury returns to the past and calls Steve and Nat to his office to offically "partner then up" and said to himself, "this two motherfuckers don't know what's in store for them" NICK FURY IS THE OG MATCHMAKER 🤪🤪🤪🤪

hi anon! i know this took me a while to finish but i hope you like it! thanks for the prompt!

Title: when push comes to shove

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Summary:

These two motherfuckers don���t know what’s in store for them.

so the future part of this place takes place after Endgame.

modifications: Steve and Natasha has been married before IW. They had kids in those five years between IW and Endgame. And of as per my usual, no one dies XD enjoy!

Also on AO3!

“Motherfu-”

–

Nick Fury woke up in his room, his head pounding. He couldn’t remember much except for an explosion at the SHIELD facility the day before. Has it been a day? He only remembers getting hit with a ray of light. And suddenly, he woke up. He propped himself up on his headboard gently, his vision swimming.

After steadying himself, he squinted and looked around his room. It looks different from how he left it from. He remained sitting that way, analyzing his surroundings. It’s most definitely his room, yes, but also, it doesn’t feel like it. He heard a beep and looked down at his phone.

Frowning, he took the device and examined it. It’s most likely his personal phone because it’s not SHIELD issued but why does it look so… advanced? He patted the jeans he was wearing - Why is he wearing jeans to bed? - and took out a phone. His phone. It’s an iPhone 5. The one that is currently beeping looks way too modern. What is this, an iPhone 12?!

Nick checked the newer phone in his hand. It immediately unlocked when he brought it up to his face level. What in the SHIELD tech power is this?Opening the messages app, he saw an unread text from Natasha R. Hm, Romanoff.

“ Hey Nick, let me know when you get there! Have a safe flight! The kids miss you already.”

“What the-”

There was a photo underneath the text - of two young kids pouting at the camera. The boy has reddish-blond hair while the little girl has long blonde curls.

“Why is Romanoff sending me pictures of kids all of a sudden…” he muttered to himself, feeling his headache come back - this time, from stress. What is happening to him? Last time he saw Natasha was two days ago, giving him an update on the Chitauri clean-up happening in New York.

Gathering himself, he walked to his living room to turn the TV on. He almost did a double take; his living room is vastly different from how he remembered it. What felt like a bachelor’s pad before - bare walls, sleek black leather sofa and a matching glass table - is now replaced with a leather sectional and picture frames all over the place.

He sauntered over to the shelf that holds what looks like awards and photos. One of the framed photographs looks like a wedding, looking closer, he almost dropped it when he realized who were getting married.

It was Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. And it looked like he officiated the wedding, based on how he was at the head of the altar looking at the two happily. Next to that is a photo of two kids smiling brightly, the same kids he saw on his phone earlier, sitting on his lap on what looks like Christmas morning - And is he wearing a Santa costume??!! The frame’s border has an engraved “World’s Best Grandpa” on it.

Well, he’ll be damned.

–

Okay, Nick Fury pieced it all together. After a while of brooding and confusion, he figured that he’s not in 2012 anymore. How he got there, he has no idea. So far his theories are severe memory loss or time travel. He’s witnessed the cutest, cuddliest cat eat a person and just a month ago, aliens were on New York City. So, really, the possibilities are endless.

After figuring out how to get to Natasha’s house, he stopped on the sidewalk to take it all in first. Who would’ve thought - his best agent and master spy, living in a house with a literal white picket fence. And has two children. Married to the American Icon. Oh, the number of Cold War jokes he could think of right now.

His reverie was broken by screams of “Grandpa Nick!” and he turned just in time to see two bouncing children run to him and latch themselves on each of his leg. He looked down and smiled at them, awkwardly patting their head.

“Grampa Nick, you’re back!” the little girl basically screamed, tugging on the sleeve of his pants.

“Mommy said we won’t see you until next week!” the boy told him, giggling, and failing to notice the strange look he had on his face. He was thinking of something to say until a voice cut him off his thoughts.

“Nick? What are you doing here?” Natasha asked, leaning on the doorframe and looking at them. By her legs is a golden retriever watching him. Dang, they even have a golden retriever. Nick smiled and shook his head at the thought.

“I, uh, decided to stay…?” he answered her, well, more of asked, really. The kids let go of his legs and took each one of his hand, pulling him to get inside the house.

Natasha arched a brow and stepped aside to let them in. “Steve is grilling on the backyard, we’re still waiting for some of the guests to arrive,” she informed him, watching him sit on the couch.

Nick nodded absent-mindedly as he looked around the living room; the house just feels so warm and so… not Natasha. Not that he doesn’t think she’s a warm person, no, but she’s just not one to settle for domesticity. That’s why she’s one of his best agents - she’s not one to get attached or dwell on herself for too long. She’s cold and closed off - he knows that the only ones to get through her barrier are himself, Clint, and occasionally, Maria Hill. So to see this Natasha - wearing a casual tee and shorts, with her hair long and up in a messy bun - is a nice change.

She also looks younger and happier . Nick isn’t one for using cheesy words or anything, but there’s nothing else to describe it - Natasha is positively glowing. Natasha caught Nick looking at her and narrowed her eyes and tilted her head while he gave her the look . It’s the look he usually gives her when she questions him during meetings and she laughed.

“You know, I missed that look,” she said, moving to sit next to him, the little boy on his lap. “I haven’t seen that since your last meeting,” she said fondly, stroking the boy’s hair.

“My last meeting?” he asked incredulously. Surely she’s not implying that-

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him once again. “Yes. You know, the last meeting you had before retiring?” Nick’s eyes widened fractionally - never the one to openly display his reactions, but Natasha noticed it nonetheless - and he stayed silent. Natasha sighed, leaning back on the couch. “You’re not Nick Fury, are you?”

Nick frowned. “The he-” he was going to say ‘hell’ until Natasha widened her eyes and looked down at the boy on her lap. Nick cleared his throat. “What do you mean, I’m not Nick Fury? You know me better than that, Romanoff.”

Natasha chuckled and poked the child. “Hey James, go get daddy and play with Sarah for a little bit please?” the boy - James, it seems - beamed up at her and kissed her cheek before jumping down and running out. Natasha looked back up at Nick, who was watching the two intently. “See, that’s how I knew you’re not Nick.”

Nick opened his mouth to defend himself but Natasha held up a hand to continue. “Yes, you’re Nick Fury - I don’t think you’re a Skrull,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “But I have a feeling that you’re not from this timeline, aren’t you?” she asked, as if a person not in the same ‘timeline’ is a very normal occurrence. Since when did she know about Skrulls? Is Carol back?

He was about to answer when Steve Rogers walked in, an apron fastened around his waist. Nick tried not to laugh as he got closer and leaned down to kiss the top of Natasha’s head as if he hadn’t seen her in a while. “Nick? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Mexico with Phil and May by this time?”

Natasha waited until Steve was sitting next to her before speaking. “I don’t think this is our Nick.”

Steve frowned and stared at Nick. “Is Talos playing a prank on us again?”

“How do you know Talos?” Nick spoke up and sat up straighter.

Natasha grinned. “See, you’re not our Nick, but I think you’re still actually Nick Fury.”

Nick Fury just looked at her passively, obviously asking for an explanation.

“Nick, what was the date yesterday?” Steve asked.

“June 17, 2012.”

Natasha and Steve shared a look - in sync, Nick noticed with fascination - before turning back to him.

“Nick,” Natasha began softly. Uh oh. He does not like where this is going. “I’m sorry to tell you but the date today is September 28, 2025; you’re 13 years into the future…” she trailed off, laying a hand on his knee and squeezing it.

“The Nick Fury in this timeline is currently on vacation in Mexico with Phil Coulson and Melinda May as well as other SHIELD agents. He must have left his backup phone at home.” Steve added.

Nick stayed silent, trying to process what he just heard. “Do you know how to get me home? Or back to 13 years ago, at least?” he asked after a while.

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look. Again. Nick fought the urge to roll his eyes. Really, they’re cute, but they’re going to make someone feel left out if they continue to do their silent communication thing.

“Well, we do have a way to travel through time… but it’s complicated. Do you think anyone from your time can bring you back?” Steve asked.

Natasha snorted, making both men turn to look at her. “He’s from June 2012. That’s a month after the Battle of New York. Time travel won’t even be on our minds back then. I highly doubt it.”

Steve cast her a sheepish smile before raking his fingers through his hair. “Well, I guess we gotta do a part three of the Time Heist, then.”

Nick raised an eyebrow at them. “Time Heist?”

“A lot of things happened in those 13 years, Nick.” Natasha answered with a smirk.

“I can tell,” Nick retorted, looking pointedly at the two. “Last time I saw you, a helicarrier blew your mind and you were crying about the 21st century. But now you’re talking about time travel like you do it everyday and both of you have two children and house with a white picket fence.” Nick tipped his chin at Steve. Natasha’s smirk grew wider while Steve blushed an angry scarlet and looked down, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“So spare me the gory details and tell me about you two,” Nick continued. “How did this-” he waved around them, “- happen?”

“Well, all I can say about that is you’re the best matchmaker ever,” Steve answered, squeezing Natasha’s hand, his eyes twinkling.

—

After a whole afternoon-long conversation, Scott was ready to take Nick home. They all went to the Compound to set everything up and explain the mechanics of it to Nick.

“You ready?” Natasha asked Nick as she and Steve approached him.

“As I’ll ever be,” he answered with a smile.

“Here, keep this,” Steve took out a picture of James and Sarah from his wallet and handed it to Nick, who was hesitant to take it at first. “Really, it’s okay. We have thousands of pictures at home,” Steve reassured with a chuckle. “Besides, you’re the reason we happened. Or should I say, the catalyst that made us happen. I know Nat and I’s partnership were rocky at the beginning so whenever you feel like screaming your head off at us, just look at this photo. I swear, it’ll help.”

“Maybe all that yelling I did was what made your sexual tension snap,” Nick joked, making Natasha blink and look at Steve. Nick noticed the action. “Don’t tell me-”

He was cut off by Scott calling him to get in position. He shook both Steve’s and Natasha’s hands as he made his way to Scott. After a wave at everyone, he was gone.

“You know, he’s not wrong. It was after that one mission where he yelled at us after we fucked up in Ireland that we first…” Steve cocked his head down at Natasha, who was smirking up at him.

“Tested the durability of Irish-made headboards?” Natasha asked, licking his lips as they both reminisced their first “casual sex” night together. Steve let out a throaty chuckle and leaned down to clash their lips together.

“My god, go home you two!” Tony yelled, rolling his eyes fondly as he brought Scott back.

Steve and Natasha were pulling away from each other just as Scott materialized. “Aw, I want a kiss from Captain America too.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a kiss,” Sam piped up, waggling his eyebrows at Scott, who walked over to him and gave him a hi-five.

—

“Nick! You’re alive!” Maria Hill all but shouted in surprise as he walked in his office in the Triskellion. She was at his desk furiously flipping through reports.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked, approaching his desk. Maria stood up from his chair and made way for him.

Maria gave him a weird look as he sat down. “What do you mean? Nick, part of that building exploded , we have 10 SHIELD agents casualties. Well, I guess it’s just 9 since you’re here…” she muttered the last part to herself. “But you were the only one missing - we figured you were vaporized on the spot. The others died from the explosion itself. These are their files,” she pointed at the stack of folders on his desk.

“You thought I was vaporized ?” Ouch. That sounded like a harsh way to die, even for Nick. Maria just nodded grimly. “I was just… transported somewhere else.”

Maria perked up at that. “Oh? Dr. Selvig had that theory but we all thought it was nuts… he said based on the energy, you must have been brought in another time.”

Fury scoffed. “Well, he’s not wrong.” Maria tilted her head, fishing for more information, but Nick waved his hand. “Another time. Are Romanoff and Rogers here?”

Maria nodded. “Yes, sir. They were both in town because the facility in New York had to be renovated. Most of our active agents are here save for Agent Barton who’s still out on his mission.”

“Can you call Romanoff and Rogers in, please?”

“Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?” Maria asked and Fury shook his head. She gave him a nod and exited the room.

Once he was alone again, Nick pulled the picture Steve gave him. James looks just like Steve except he got his mother’s eyes and most of her hair color. Sarah, however, was all Natasha, except for her father’s bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He smiled fondly at the picture and put it back in his wallet just as he heard his agents approach his door.

“You called us in, sir?” Steve’s head popped up from the door. Nick nodded and Steve and Natasha walked in, standing in front of him.

“I never thought you’re dead, you know, for the record. I believed Dr. Selvig,” Natasha told him smugly, making Nick chuckle.

“Well. I’m back and I have a mission for the two of you.” he took one of the folders from his desk and slid it forward to them. “This will be your first solo mission as official partners.”

Silence followed his statement as the words hung in the air. He raised an eyebrow at them, waiting for the blow up that’s about to happen. He almost thought they’d go down without a fight until:

“NICK!”

“Sir, I’m not-”

“He’s not a spy-”

“I’m really more of a sold-”

“Clint is my part-”

Ah, there it is. Nick leaned back in his chair and let the two of them scream it out, their words drowning the other out. This is fascinating to watch, really. After a few more moments, the two eventually stopped, huffing, when they noticed that their director was silent.

“So there’s that. The folder has everything you need to know. Take what you need and report back when you’re done. Good luck!” Nick said with a fake cheerful voice and a big smile. The voice might be fake but the smile was real. He really was excited.

He saw Natasha glare at Steve, who looked just as pissed, if not a little horrified. She grabbed the folder from his desk like a snake would snap at its prey, and promptly turned on her heels to exit the room, Steve following with his head hanging down.

Nick has to admit, he thought there would be more fight. But he also knows that Natasha knows that once he puts his mind onto something, it’s not going to change. Once they were fully gone from his office, he leaned back on his chair and pulled out his wallet to look at James and Sarah again. Oh, these two motherfuckers don’t know what’s in store for them, he mumbled to himself and grinned mischievously.

[suckitsurveys]

Ready to answer 151 Questions? No.

1. When was the last time you swam in a pool? Last week. I am extremely grateful to have access to a pool this summer. It’s at my sister’s mother in law’s. She lets my sister and her daughters use it while she’s at work and I tag along too.  2. Do you like to party? I love throwing parties. Not like, huge drunk ragers, but bday parties are my specialty.  3. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do? I’ve been social distancing myself from them for almost 10 years, so. 4. Are you a virgin? Nope. 5. What are your parents views on your relationships? My dad likes Mark.

6. If you ran into your current boyfriend/crush in 10 years, would you marry them? I am married to my crush.  7. Is your best friend dating anyone? One is. 8. Describe the shirt you’re wearing? It’s an olive green shirt with the Route 66 logo on it. 9. Do people who wear Hollister and Abrerbrombie every day bother you? I really don’t care. 10. Could you go out in public without wearing make-up? I do that 99.99% of the time. 11. What is one feature that you don’t like? On myself? My stomach. 12. Would people describe you as happy? Not currently.  13. Are you single? Nope. 14. Does it bother you that pretty much every survey you take asks if you’re single? Nah. 15. Do you have Tumblr? I really only use it for this, which I also haven’t done in a while either.

16. What about Xanga? Aww, RIP Xanga. 17. Have you ever babysat before? Yes. 18. Is there a teacher who you absolutely hate? Most of my college professors.  19. Ever shopped at Sephora? I think I’ve been in one before? 20. If your current boyfriend/crush suddenly moved away, what would you do? I mean, I’d be pretty shocked and hurt. 21. Do you have any university plans? Lol. 22. If your best friend revealed she was a homosexual, what would you do? Support her?  23. What are your views on sex? Be safe! Always get consent! 24. Do sexual questions bother you? No. 25. Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend or break up? Uh, what? 26. Have you ever dreamed about your wedding? Yeah. 27. Does it bother you when people TYpe 1yk dis’? Yeah, I don’t see too much of it anymore. 28. Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook? Yes. 29. Would you ever date a friends Ex? I did that once oops. 30. What’s the last book you read? I’m still working on a couple. 31. Ready for 10 simple questions? Sure. 32. What is your last name? No. 33. What grade are you in? No. 34. What school do you go to? No. 35. Summer, Fall, Winter or Spring? Summer and early fall.  36. Favorite Color? Purples and blues. 37. Are your parents together? My father is widowed.  38. Any siblings? I have an older sister. 39. Favorite subject? Eh.

40. Least favorite subject? Eh. 41. Favorite song? I could never just choose one. 42. Okay. Simple questions are over. Happy? I don’t care. 43. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 200 something. 44. Ever been requested by some old guy from another country? Probably. 45. Have you ever googled yourself? Yeah. 46. Have a Formspring? No. 47. You’re offered free tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. What do you do? Take them and sell them :P 48. Would you rather spend the day at an amusement park or a water park? Waterpark. Ughhhhhhhhh I miss waterparks so much. It’s so weird to not be going this summer. 49. Been to Disney world? Nope. 50. If someone posts their status “9 Inches :(” do you know what they mean? Sounds like one of those things where people post a random status from a list of things that will likely get people’s attention and whoever comments on it is privately sent said list of thing and they then choose something to post as their status and so on. That was a popular game thing on Facebook years ago. <---Yeah, that. 51. Ever had a boyfriend? Yes.

52. Ever had a huge crush on someone who still doesn’t know? I doubt Will Arnett knows I’m in love with him. 53. Have you done something in the last week that you regret? No. 54. Ever drank alcohol? Yes. 55. Know anyone who’s currently doing drugs? Yeah. 56. Ever watched The Hills? No. 57. What about Jersey Shore? Yes. 58. Ever called someone a slut? I’ve said that jokingly to friends. 59. What do you think of short shorts? You do you. 60. Does it bother you if people swear around you? Nope. 61. Have you ever gotten an A in a subject? Yes. 62. What about a B? Yes. 63. And a C? Yes. 64. How about a D? Yeah. 65. Ever skived? What’s that? 66. Would you consider yourself popular and outcast or somewhere in the middle? I’d say somewhere in the middle. I had friends, but I wasn’t “popular” by any means. 67. Are most of your friends older or younger than you? Most are older.  68. Ever been stabbed in the back by a close friend? Yes. 69. Do you think it’s immature when people laugh at the number 69? Oops. 70. Ever watched porn? Yes. 71. How many laws do you think you’ve broken in the past month? I drove with out a seat belt (for a few blocks) and jay walked oops.  72. Do you wake up with an alarm clock? On work days, yes. 73. Do you prefer Wednesdays or Thursdays? Wednesdays.  74. If your school had a Glee Club would you join? No. 75. Ever performed in a talent show? No. 76. Have you ever cried in public? Yeah. 77. Do you have a favorite between your Mom and your Dad? I’ve always had a special bond with my dad. I love my mom, but we butt heads a lot when I was a teenager. I feel like our bond was getting stronger just before she died and I’m really sad we don’t get to know each other as we got older.  78. Would you audition for a reality talent competition? Nooo. I have zero talent. 79. How many celebrity crushes have you had? A lot. 80. How many non-celebrity crushes have you had? A lot. 81. Name 5 male celebrities who you think are attractive. Will Arnett, Paul Rudd, John Mulaney, Andy Samberg, Ezra Koenig 82. Name 5 female celebrities who you think are attractive. Aubrey Plaza, Alison Brie, Lana Del Rey, Alia Shawkat, Kat Dennings 83. Ever been compared to a celebrity? Ha, no. 84. Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook? No. 85. Do you think spending £20 on Lip Gloss is a waste of money? Idk what that is in US dollars but I don’t usually buy lip gloss, so. 86. Are you opinionated? I can be. 87. Do you have a favorite store? Sure. 88. Would you ever wear Flare Jeans? I used to in grade school. 89. Do you own jeans that aren’t skinny? I have one pair of “boyfriend” jeans that I don’t really like.  90. Have you ever worn the same outfit twice in one week? Hello, pandemic? 91. What’s the longest period of time you’ve been away from school? I don’t know. 92. Do you google abbreviations you don’t understand? Yeah. 93. Does it bother you when people have cats as their profile picture? I don’t care? 94. Own a pair of converse? Yes. 95. Is there a teacher at your school who has obvious favorites? There was. 96. If yes, are you one of them? Never. 97. Do you text in class? I have. 98. What brand of jeans do you wear the most? Target. 99. At what point do you think sizes are “Plus Sized?” Fuck that shit. “Plus” implies that there is a standard size. 100. Do you want to lose weight? I’d like to be healthier.  101. Ever seen a therapist? No, but I should. 102. Ever watched porn? You asked me this.  103. Ever purposely ignored a text? Yes. 104. A facebook message? Yes. 105. A poke? I always ignored those. That was a dumb feature Facebook had. 106. A friend request? Yeah. I don’t accept a request from anyone I don’t know, but I have it set up where you can’t add me unless you are friends with someone I am friends with.  107. Would you say you read into things too much? Yepppp. 108. Is your best friend more likely to be the one suggesting something stupid or refusing to do something stupid? I don’t know. 109. Do you have a “fun friend?” (A friend who you have tons of fun with but you never really have deep conversations?) Eh. 110. Ever been called a bully? No. 111. Ever purposely hurt yourself? Yes. 112. Ever gone to church? I went to a Lutheran high school and we used to have “chapel” every first full school day of the week (usually mondays). That was kind of a church service. And one time I spent the night at a friends house on a Saturday and was blindsided the next morning when her parents were like “okay time for church!” 113. Would you call either of your parents screw ups? Absolutely not! 114. If you turned out exactly like your mom would you be pleased? Yes and no. 115. What do you want to do with your life? Lol.

116. Let me guess… You have brown hair? My roots right now are basically a really dirty blonde. And my tips were black but they are pretty brown right now. And hair inbetween is mint green lol. Pandemic hair ftw. 117. Already know what you’re being for Halloween? I’ll probably be Princess Carolyn again. Or just a bat, since I have both of those costumes.  118. Do you still go Trick or Treating? With my nieces, but we probably won’t be able to go this year :(  119. Ever liked someone WAY older than you? Celebrities. 120. Does it bother you when people have really loud conversations on the bus? Yes. 121. When you have sunglasses on, do you stare at people? I have. 122. Ever had a credit card denied? Yeah. 123. What’s the last movie you watched? Oh god, it’s been a while. I Love You Man, I think? 124. Last TV Show? Property Brothers, lol.  125. You see your Ex making out with one of your friends. What do you do? They wouldn’t.  126. Ever been called a whore? Jokingly. 127. Are you american? Yes. 128. Ever made yourself throw up? Yeah. 129. Have you ever kissed someone who wasn’t your boyfriend? Uh huh. 130. Are you Cute or Gross? Yes. 131. Does it bother you when people say “LOOK HOW MUCH YOU’VE GROWN!”? No one has said that to me in a very long time. I don’t recall being bothered by it, though. 132. Can you say intelligent things around the guy you like? Um, yes? Why couldn’t I? 133. Ever had the lead in a play? Not the lead, no. 134. What about a solo in a concert? Nope. 135. What kind of a student are you? I did okay in grade and high school. 136. Worst subject? All of college. 137. Best subject? Not college. 138. Ever had a crush on a teacher? Yeah. 139. Would it bother you if you found out that your mother was pregnant? Seeing as she’s dead, yeah, a little. 140. How late do you sleep in? On work days I sleep until the absolutely last minute, right before we are supposed to check in for a daily meeting at 7:10am, lol. And on weekends or days off I normally don’t sleep past 10.   141. Do you edit your profile pictures before posting them? A little. I brighten up my face and smooth it out. Sue me.  142. Be 100% honest. Do you have any friends who are uglier than you? All my friends are beautiful in their own ways.  143. Do you believe in love? Yes.  144. Would you consider yourself a good student? Didn’t you ask this? 145. Does it bother you when Surveys ask “Did you like this survey?” It just seems kinda pointless cause they likely won’t see it. 146. Salty, Sweet, Sour or Spicy? Yes.  147. Are you going into High School this year? Nooooo. Thank goodness. I did my time and graduated over 10 years ago. 148. What about Junior High? Omg, no. I’m old. 149. What is one thing someone could say to you right now that would make you cry? Ugh, anything.  150. Where did you find this note? @lovemesomesurveys 151. Last question. How many unread messages are in your phone? None. 

[toomanysurveys9]

Ready to answer 151 Questions? 1. When was the last time you swam in a pool? January 2020. 2. Do you like to party? I really enjoy it a lot less than I used to. I would rather be at home with my babies. 3. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do? He’s in prison and I’m married and uninterested... SOOOO I would probably slap him. 4. Are you a virgin? I have two kids. So obviously not.

5. What are your parents views on your relationships? I don’t really know what my dad thinks. My mom goes back and forth. She loves Jacob and knows I love him, but hates the way he treats me a majority of the time.

6. If you ran into your current boyfriend/crush in 10 years, would you marry them? I’m married. So... there’s that. 7. Is your best friend dating anyone? My mom is married to my dad. Jacob is married to me. And Kayla is back with her youngest’s dad, which is cool. 8. Describe the shirt you’re wearing? Big and dark gray. 9. Do people who wear Hollister and Abrerbrombie every day bother you? I don’t care what other people wear. 10. Could you go out in public without wearing make-up? I do that every single day. It’s very rare for me to wear makeup. 11. What is one feature that you don’t like? On myself... I hate my teeth and gums. 12. Would people describe you as happy? They might. 13. Are you single? I’m very not single. 14. Does it bother you that pretty much every survey you take asks if you’re single? Not really. I mean. It gets a bit annoying because it’s a boring question but it’s also whatever. 15. Do you have Tumblr? Obviously.

16. What about Xanga? Nope. 17. Have you ever babysat before? Many, many times. 18. Is there a teacher who you absolutely hate? There were some teachers I haven’t enjoyed having in the past.  19. Ever shopped at Sephora? I bought a gift card for Kay once. 20. If your current boyfriend/crush suddenly moved away, what would you do? I’m assuming I’d move with him since we’re married..

21. Do you have any university plans?

I am currently getting my master’s degree in marriage and family therapy. Have no plans to go beyond that.

22. If your best friend revealed she was a homosexual, what would you do?

It would completely shock me if my mom did, although our relationship wouldn’t change. If Jacob did, I would probably be devastated since we’ve been together so long and have two kids... I wouldn’t care much if Kay did.

23. What are your views on sex?

It’s fine if you’re both of age and it’s consensual. I don’t have much of a sex drive these days, which upsets Jacob sometimes. But I’m just so tired. All the time.

24. Do sexual questions bother you?

Nope.

25. Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend or break up?

He’s my husband, and I don’t want a divorce.

26. Have you ever dreamed about your wedding?

I did when I was younger and again when we got engaged.

27. Does it bother you when people TYpe 1yk dis’?

I don’t enjoy it, but you can do what you want, as long as you’re not hurting other people.

28. Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook?

I have never had to deal with that, so I’m not sure what I would do.

29. Would you ever date a friends Ex?

I feel like there would be a lot of things that would factor into that decision, but currently, nope.

30. What’s the last book you read?

I don’t remember. It was a children’s book at work.

31. Ready for 10 simple questions?

Sure thing.

32. What is your last name?

Shh.

33. What grade are you in?

I just started my first year of graduate school about 3 weeks ago.

34. What school do you go to?

Northcentral University.

35. Summer, Fall, Winter or Spring?

Spring and Fall are my favorites.

36. Favorite Color?

Black and blue.

37. Are your parents together?

They are.

38. Any siblings?

Four sisters and one brother. All younger.

39. Favorite subject? 

I’ve always loved all things psychology related, except research methods, and english.

40. Least favorite subject? All things math. 41. Favorite song? Slow Down by Nichole. 42. Okay. Simple questions are over. Happy? I don’t care. 43. How many friends do you have on Facebook? No clue. 44. Ever been requested by some old guy from another country? Yeah. 45. Have you ever googled yourself? Yup. 46. Have a Formspring? Nope. 47. You’re offered free tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. What do you do? Sell them if they don’t want to. 48. Would you rather spend the day at an amusement park or a water park? Either!!! 49. Been to Disney world? No but I will someday! 50. If someone posts their status “9 Inches :(” do you know what they mean? Nope. 51. Ever had a boyfriend? Yes.

52. Ever had a huge crush on someone who still doesn’t know? Yeah. 53. Have you done something in the last week that you regret? Yeah. Yelled at my kids... 54. Ever drank alcohol? Yup. 55. Know anyone who’s currently doing drugs? Weed at least. 56. Ever watched The Hills? Nope. 57. What about Jersey Shore? Nope. 58. Ever called someone a slut? Not seriously that I recall. 59. What do you think of short shorts? Not for me.  60. Does it bother you if people swear around you? Nope. 61. Have you ever gotten an A in a subject? Many times. 62. What about a B? ^^^ 63. And a C? A few. 64. How about a D? No. 65. Ever skived? Huh? 66. Would you consider yourself popular and outcast or somewhere in the middle? Outcast for sure. 67. Are most of your friends older or younger than you? My age. Or older. 68. Ever been stabbed in the back by a close friend? Yup. 69. Do you think it’s immature when people laugh at the number 69? Kind of.  70. Ever watched porn? Yeah. Wasn’t into it. 71. How many laws do you think you’ve broken in the past month? Speeding. 72. Do you wake up with an alarm clock? Yup. 73. Do you prefer Wednesdays or Thursdays? Wednesdays. Jacob has them off from Papa John’s. 74. If your school had a Glee Club would you join? Not likely. 75. Ever performed in a talent show? No. 76. Have you ever cried in public? Yeah. I hate it too. 77. Do you have a favorite between your Mom and your Dad? No, although I’m closer to my mom. 78. Would you audition for a reality talent competition? I did and didn’t get past the producers. 79. How many celebrity crushes have you had? A lot. 80. How many non-celebrity crushes have you had? A lot. 81. Name 5 male celebrities who you think are attractive. Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Chris Pratt, and Johnny Depp. 82. Name 5 female celebrities who you think are attractive. Kirsten Vangsness, Monica Raymund, Hilary Duff, I can’t think of more. 83. Ever been compared to a celebrity? Nooo. 84. Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook? I don’t think so. 85. Do you think spending £20 on Lip Gloss is a waste of money? I wouldn’t do it. 86. Are you opinionated? On some things. 87. Do you have a favorite store? Children clothing stores, like Carter’s or the Children’s Place. Barnes and Noble. 88. Would you ever wear Flare Jeans? Not likely. 89. Do you own jeans that aren’t skinny? I have a couple boot cut pairs. 90. Have you ever worn the same outfit twice in one week? I pretty much wear the same few outfits all week. I only have so many work appropriate shirts. 91. What’s the longest period of time you’ve been away from school? I graduated college in 2016 and just went back to get my master’s about three weeks ago. 92. Do you google abbreviations you don’t understand? Yeah. 93. Does it bother you when people have cats as their profile picture? Nope. Why would it? 94. Own a pair of converse? I do. They’re my favorite. 95. Is there a teacher at your school who has obvious favorites? What I am doing now is online and not like a typically school.

96. If yes, are you one of them? ^^^

97. Do you text in class? I did. And I do text while doing school stuff now, although not often. 98. What brand of jeans do you wear the most? I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to brands. 99. At what point do you think sizes are “Plus Sized?” I don’t know. 100. Do you want to lose weight? Yeah, I do. A lot of it. Like. 100 pounds. Ha. 101. Ever seen a therapist? I have. 102. Ever watched porn? I have, but not really for myself. I didn’t really enjoy it. 103. Ever purposely ignored a text? I have. 104. A facebook message? I have. 105. A poke? Yup. 106. A friend request? Many times. 107. Would you say you read into things too much? Oh, I’m sure. 108. Is your best friend more likely to be the one suggesting something stupid or refusing to do something stupid? Suggesting. 109. Do you have a “fun friend?” (A friend who you have tons of fun with but you never really have deep conversations?) I don’t think so. 110. Ever been called a bully? Not that I can recall. Because I never bullied people. 111. Ever purposely hurt yourself? Many times. 112. Ever gone to church? I used to. Years ago. 113. Would you call either of your parents screw ups? NO. 114. If you turned out exactly like your mom would you be pleased? I would not want to be exactly like her. But there are a lot of good things I would be happy to inherit.  115. What do you want to do with your life? I’m going to become a marriage and family therapist.

116. Let me guess… You have brown hair? I do. 117. Already know what you’re being for Halloween? I don’t dress up. My kids do though. I don’t know what they’re going to be. Wyatt might be spiderman again. 118. Do you still go Trick or Treating? I take my babies. 119. Ever liked someone WAY older than you? Celebrities. 120. Does it bother you when people have really loud conversations on the bus? I don’t really care. 121. When you have sunglasses on, do you stare at people? I do not. 122. Ever had a credit card denied? Probably. 123. What’s the last movie you watched? I don’t remember. 124. Last TV Show? Uhhh. Maybe Criminal Minds? 125. You see your Ex making out with one of your friends. What do you do? I wouldn’t likely care. 126. Ever been called a whore? I don’t think so. But it’s possible. 127. Are you american? I am. 128. Ever made yourself throw up? Yeah.  129. Have you ever kissed someone who wasn’t your boyfriend? On a dare - Kayla and/or Brittany. 130. Are you Cute or Gross? Gross. 131. Does it bother you when people say “LOOK HOW MUCH YOU’VE GROWN!”? It’s been years since anyone said that, but no, it didn’t bother me. 132. Can you say intelligent things around the guy you like? We’re married and have been together many years. I would hope I could have intelligent conversations with him at this point. 133. Ever had the lead in a play? No. 134. What about a solo in a concert? I did once in high school. 135. What kind of a student are you? I’m a good student. I’ve always done very well. 136. Worst subject? I have always hated math. 137. Best subject? English or history. 138. Ever had a crush on a teacher? No. 139. Would it bother you if you found out that your mother was pregnant? It’s super impossible so I would be pretty confused. 140. How late do you sleep in? I have to be up by 7:20ish. 141. Do you edit your profile pictures before posting them? Sometimes I use filters. 142. Be 100% honest. Do you have any friends who are uglier than you? I am the ugly friend, 100%. 143. Do you believe in love? Obviously. 144. Would you consider yourself a good student? Yeah.. 145. Does it bother you when Surveys ask “Did you like this survey?” I don’t care. 146. Salty, Sweet, Sour or Spicy? Depends on my mood but usually salty or sweet. 147. Are you going into High School this year? Nope. Graduated 2012. 148. What about Junior High? Heck no. Ha. 149. What is one thing someone could say to you right now that would make you cry? That someone I love was seriously hurt or died. 150. Where did you find this note? @lovemesomesurveys :) 151. Last question. How many unread messages are in your phone? I have no idea since Wyatt is using it.

[musiclovingbitch]

Together

Summary: Secret Agents!Klaine. When Blaine finds out Kurt’s taken on a really dangerous mission all on his own, he’s resigned to do anything to stop his friend from getting hurt.

A/N: So, someone sent me this list of prompts, but didn’t actually send along any particular number they wanted me to use. So, I decided to try and use as many as I possibly could. I ended up using prompts #1, #2, #23, #19, #70, #46, # 58, (half of #96), #97, #65, #34, #84, #62, #9, #13, #17, #43, #47, #48, #52, #26, #74, #60, #59, #21, #55, #91, #82, #10, #66, #85, #36, #30, #72, #90, and finally #83, in that order, making it a grand total of 35(.5)/100. Relatively decent, I think, no?

Also, a massive shoutout and thanks to @slayediest for making this even vaguely coherent.

~2.7k

on AO3

“If this is you flirting, I don’t like it.”

Blaine huffed as he adjusted his hold on Kurt slightly, and continued walking towards his dorm room in the Dalton Headquarters.

“You’re not going on this mission, Kurt. I won’t let you die,” he said, quietly but resolutely. Kurt took a moment to reign in his fury, because Blaine did not just say that to him, before he responded.

“This is bullshit!” he complained, “What are you doing here anyway? I didn't expect you to be here tonight.”

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to be here. But you know that, of course. I just happened to stay late yesterday to work a bit on my left hook, and I overheard Sebastian and Trent talking in the locker room while I was changing. See, Trent was telling Sebastian all about the idiot that had agreed to take on the Karofsky case, and how they were stupid enough to not only take it on, but take it on by themselves. Now, imagine my surprise when I heard that that idiot, was you.”

Kurt was silent, cursing Trent and his big mouth in his head.

*

“You idiot!” Blaine yelled at Kurt from across the room as he ran to catch up with him before he walked out the door.

Kurt turned, startled. “Blaine? What--”

“You’ve taken on the Karofsky case? Alone?” Blaine said, livid.

Kurt froze, but quickly composed himself and arched an eyebrow. “Don't sound so excited about it. And yeah, I did.”

“You do realize I’m not gonna let you go, right?”

“Is that so? I'm pretty sure that's not how it works. I’m pretty sure I’m the one that gets to pick my assignments, not you. And besides, you took that mission in Berlise all by yourself just four months ago.”

“That’s different, I am five years in, you’ve only been here for two.”

“And I’ve proven, over and over and over again, that I can keep up with the best of you. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

"That’s not what I meant! You're so stubborn!" Blaine said, running a frustrated hand through his curls. “You are not going, Kurt!” he said with finality.

“Blaine, nothing short of tying me up will stop me from going out there, okay?”

Blaine’s eyes hardened. “Well, okay then.”

*

“I’m not stupid. Just so you know. I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. So, this? This is insulting. Really, now.”

“Look, just. Don't fight me on this," Blaine pleaded, though he knew it was hopeless.

“Blaine, for the love of god, this is ridiculous. Untie me!" Kurt struggled against his restraints.

“Are you going to come to your senses and not go on this insane mission?”

“No.” Kurt struggled some more.

“Then, no. And quit moving around so much, you’re going to throw me off balance.”

Kurt stilled. “Put me down!”

“No.”

Kurt took a moment to assess the situation, asking himself what he would be doing if this were a case. He switched gears. “Do you realize for how long you’ve been carrying me? I mean. Wow. You're really strong." The admiration was genuine, but Blaine didn’t need to know that.

“Neither flattery nor any of the diversion tactics you’ve learned here will get you anywhere tonight, Hummel. You think I'm dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?” Blaine shook his head. “You know, I thought we were--friends,” he said haltingly.

"Friends don't tie friends up!"

“Friends also don’t hide the fact that they’re gonna be embarking on a suicide mission! God, you didn’t even say anything to me in the cafeteria. Were you just gonna up and leave without telling me? How long ago did you even take the assignment, how long have you been hiding this from me?”

Without realizing it, Blaine had picked up the pace in his anger. Kurt squirmed uncomfortably.

"Will you just--slow down. Please. We’re practically there anyway."

Blaine slowed down. He was kind of surprised none of the other agents had stopped them to see why Blaine was carrying Kurt over his shoulder. Or why Kurt was tied up.

When they reached the door to Blaine’s room, he reluctantly put Kurt down. He held his hand against Kurt’s neck, a silent warning for him to not try anything, while his other hand dug through his pocket for his access card.

“You know, you have some nerve!” Kurt exclaimed as Blaine pushed him in his room. “You have no right!”

“Excuse me?”

“Literally every other person in this building has more of a right to do this than you.”

Hurt flashed in Blaine’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you forget that you did the exact same thing to me with the Berlise job? That I just woke up one day and you were gone?”

“I told you, it was literally last minute, Sam got hurt the night before--”

“Not even a note! Or a text! How much time would that have taken, Blaine? Or if writing was so damn difficult, even a fucking voicemail. You just disappeared.”

“So, what, this is some kind of payback? Are you really going to get yourself killed just to spite me, Kurt?”

Kurt’s lips turned into a thin line. His voice was cold when he spoke. “Unlike you, I’m not going in blind. I’ve read the Karofsky file so many times I’ve had it memorised, and I’ve also read every other file he’s mentioned in. I also asked around and found and read up on every single case, open or closed, where there’s suspected involvement of Karofsky’s organization. Unlike you, I don’t do things half-assed.”

Okay, that stung. “You are so fucking petty.”

“Damn right I’m pretty.”

“I said petty,” Blaine responded, shaking his head but suppressing a smile.

“Oh, I know. I’m just gonna pretend you said pretty so as not to take out my gun and pistol whip you across the face.”

Kurt was sincere in his threat, that much Blaine could see. He was also furious. Blaine was just a little bit too confused for this conversation to work in his favor. “Kurt, come on, are you really still hung up on the Berlise job? It’s been four months.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Kurt gave him a look so furious, Blaine actually felt a twinge of genuine fear run down his spine.

"Am I just supposed to get over the fact that you died? Treat it as if it didn’t happen, which is what you’re obviously trying to do, considering you didn’t even bother to tell me about it. Would that be more convenient for you?"

Blaine froze. “What? How did you know about that?”

"You died! I saw you die! So don’t you dare imply that I’m being overdramatic, like I’m not supposed to get hung up on that."

Blaine could only repeat himself. “What?”

Kurt wouldn’t look at him. “I was part of the extraction team, Blaine. I was part of the team they sent to bail you out when everything expectedly went to shit, because of course it did, because you stupidly took over a mission the night before its launch without having done any prep beforehand.”

“You were there?” Blaine asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Kurt confirmed grimly.

A beat of silence.

“I was only dead for, like, twenty seconds.”

Suddenly, Kurt was in front of him, having freed himself of his restraints. Blaine gave himself some credit that he was able to hold him for that long. Kurt pushed him, and Blaine’s back hit the back of his door. Kurt got right up to his face, their noses a hair width apart. They locked eyes.

“Do you know what it was like, sticking those stickers to your chest?” Kurt said in a low voice, his eyes hard, but glistening.

Blaine felt the air leave his lungs. “No. They told me--Santana.”

“Santana likes me more than you. And everyone else is too scared of her to say anything. But, yes, I… I was the one closest to you when you went down. I was the one that searched for a pulse and didn’t find one. I was the one who had to will my fingers not to shake as I tried to remember where to place those fucking stickers and what buttons to push on the defibrillator.”

Blaine swallowed hard. Kurt took a small step back.

“So. Now you know everything. And now--”

“No, I don’t. You’re still mad. There’s more.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Kurt, come on.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m not mad at you, really.” Kurt exhaled loudly, and seemed to say ‘fuck it’ to himself before continuing, “It’s just… I had imagined what it would be like to undress you again very differently. Not in a filthy warehouse. Not while you were unconscious--while you were dead. I had imagined countless different scenarios about how and when we’d finally stop playing this game of cat and mouse. Who would cave first and come to the other’s room. Neither of us drunk the second time, hopefully. You took that from me, Blaine. From us. And I’m not mad, but -- maybe that’s what you’re reading on my face right now.”

Blaine stood perfectly still, trying unsuccessfully to breathe normally. Kurt continued.

“But maybe that’s a sign. A sign that this, whatever it was, is over.” Kurt breathed in deeply, “Closure sure is something. So, if you could kindly step aside, now. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Blaine stood silently, watching Kurt, watching the tears that still hadn’t left his eyes, willing the tears to disappear from his own, processing everything that had happened in the past two minutes.

“Blaine.” Kurt sighed. “Seriously now. Don’t be nervous. I wasn’t joking when I said I’ve done a lot of prep. More prep than I’ve ever done for a case in my life. There's nothing to fear. I’m not taking this case lightly, and I’m not doing this to spite you.”

Kurt sniffled. Blaine silently handed him his handkerchief. Kurt took it gratefully and smiled tentatively before bringing it up to his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said.

Kurt barely had time to look confused before Blaine’s hand was over his, effectively locking his handkerchief over his nose, and barely had time to realize what was happening before everything went black.

*

He woke up in Blaine’s bed. When the previous day’s memories came back to him, he groaned. Within seconds he felt the bed dip beside him.

“You’re an asshole,” he croaked. He turned his head towards Blaine, and found him smiling. “Such an asshole.”

Blaine just smiled wider. Kurt looked away.

"Fuck you! Or me. I’m not sure. I’m not sure which is up and which is down right now," he said, bringing a hand up to his head. That caused Blaine to stop smiling.

"You're okay, right? Not hurt or anything?"

“Just a headache. You asshole. Now. Help me up.” He extended his hand.

“No,” Blaine said, shaking his head lightly. “Stay in bed. It’s super early.”

Kurt let his head hang down. "Ugh.” His eyes peered up at Blaine. “You annoy the fuck outa me. In case you didn’t know."

"Sh. Go back to sleep."

Kurt quirked his lips up. “No.”

Blaine sighed, trying to look put out, but failing. He didn’t mind, letting the smile spread over his face easily. Kurt’s eyes wandered around the room. “Where did you sleep?” he asked.

“I didn’t.”

Blaine seemed to be contemplating something, and Kurt waited, watching him, watching as his smile slowly faded into a frown.

"You know the worst part? I thought I had nothing to lose."

Kurt was definitely awake now. “What?” he said, sitting up abruptly and almost falling forward before Blaine’s strong arms wrapped around him and straightened him up.

"Steady now. Are you sure you’re okay?"

Kurt ignored the attempt at a switch in the subject. “What do you mean by that?”

Blaine sighed. “When I left. The Berlise job. I could have turned it down.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I...I had convinced myself that you didn’t want me like I wanted you. Everyone flirts with everyone around here, all the time. You’d flirt back when I flirted with you, but you’d almost never initiate anything, and you’d always have a witty response for everyone else, too.

“Those first few months after you came here? I wanted to kill Jeff, even though I know he’s been with Nick for years and that he flirts with anything that moves, but I’d see you talking, and he’d make you blush and I would have to fight the urge to sneak up behind him and snap his neck. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t handle having to stop myself from touching you and kissing you every time we were in the same room together.

“I felt trapped. Trapped in and by my feelings for you. We’d spend so much time together, and I kept trying to convince my heart that I was making it all up in my head, that your eyes never lingered on me, that your blushes were the same for me as for anybody else, that all you felt for me was friendship. It got to be so bad that I was afraid it would start affecting my work and endanger my place here. So I just--I said yes, just to have something else to focus on, and maybe get the thought of you out of my mind. A stupid decision, really. If it makes you feel any better, it didn’t work.”

They were both breathing heavily after Blaine finished his speech.

“So, what now?”

Blaine looked him over. His expression was so soft it broke Kurt’s heart just a little bit. Blaine reached a hand out and brushed a few strands of hair that had fallen on Kurt’s forehead back.

“Your hair is so soft,” he marvelled.

“Oh no.” Kurt moaned, ducking his head in a futile effort to hide his blush. “That is way too cheesy for this early in the morning.”

Blaine bent down to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Hey. Don’t hide your face. I like your face.” He used a finger to lift Kurt’s jaw.

They both stared at each other in silence. Eyes fell to lips, then rushed back up. Slowly, then both leaned in. They met in the middle.

Blaine’s hands came up to cradle Kurt’s face. Kurt’s hands fisted Blaine’s shirt and pulled him forward. The need for air caused them to eventually pull away.

“You take my breath away,” Kurt said, barely more than a whisper.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt said, smiling a little. “But…”

“What? No, no buts, no buts allowed.” Blaine swept forward and kissed the corner of Kurt’s mouth where it had started to turn downwards.

“Blaine. I’m not sure if this can work.”

“Don’t say that, why would you say that?”

“Blaine? I’m really sorry, but I can’t just not take a mission just because you think it’s too dangerous. Every mission is dangerous, you know that. And I love it here, I love what I do--what we do. I don’t think I could give it up.”

“Kurt, I would never ask you to give this up. I’m not gonna say that I won’t be worried every time you’re out there, and I probably won’t be pleasant company until I have you safe, here, and back in my arms, but I know how competent you are. It’s just this particular mission. Something doesn’t feel right, and I trust my instincts. The two previous agents that took it on died while working on it. I think there may be a mole.”

Kurt looked pensive.

“I still have to try, Blaine.”

“But you don’t have to try alone. We could…you know, go together if you wanted.”

“Together?” Kurt asked, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Together.”

“Okay,” he said and smiled. Blaine grinned in response.

“Quit smiling at me,” Kurt said, and shook Blaine by the shoulders.

"Make me."

Kurt smirked and, in one swift move, flipped them over. He pecked Blaine on the lips.

“I’m still smiling,” Blaine teased.

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly before leaning down and sealing their lips together once more.

[artistic-writer]

Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 13

Title: Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer   artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language, and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW)

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Ok, so, don’t hate me but this chapter offers you no resolution to what happened in the last one.  I’m sorry not sorry , but its another backstory.  This time its Brother Jones backstory, and we also find out how Walsh got the scar, as well as a few other little things.  Also, next week I will posting TWO chapters, because Ch 14 is very NSFW on the whump front, and as i understand this is not for every reader, I have written ch 15 so that you can skip Ch 14 if it is too much for you. 

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her upcoming birthday, and creating the @cssns  Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious  @resident-of-storybrooke@courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. And to @flipperbrain  who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious  @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat  @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight@ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr@blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver  @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair

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——————————————————————————————

A decade ago

Liam Jones was too young to become a parent, or so he had thought, but the second his mother’s hand had gone limp in his and her last breath had left her mortal body, he knew his life had changed forever. He was twenty-two, barely an adult himself, and he was now in charge of his younger brother. Killian was just sixteen, not yet legally an adult, so Liam had stood in a solicitor's office and signed a single sheet of paper whilst an overweight, middle-aged man explained what he was signing.

In the absence of any remaining family, he was Killian’s new guardian.

In truth, he would not have had it any other way. His brother was just like their mother - a hopelessly romantic empath whose world crumbled when she had died. It wasn’t quick, nor painless, and both of the brothers had watched her slip from reality, fading away to nothing more than a grey shadow before their very eyes. Liam was older, stronger and had coped with the loss of a relative before - he was young, but he remembered his grandfather’s funeral. Killian, however, was not equipped to deal with the emotions he was feeling.

One doctor had called him delicate. Another had called him explosive. Liam had learned quickly that even if he had been a sixteen-year-old boy himself, he had never been a sixteen-year-old boy who had lost his world. Killian was angry, at everything, and only six years into his werewolf change. He had shifted and remained in wolf form for eight days. Liam had covered for him, telling his school he was under the weather, but he knew nothing but time would heal his wounds. And so he let him remain a wolf, curled up into a tight cat-like ball on the couch, fur greasy from where he had been comforting him with tender strokes and his heart breaking at each whimper his brother had emitted.

Liam understood the appeal of wolf form for Killian. It was where his brother felt safest, strongest and able to take on anything that came at him. He had been like that ever since his first change, obsessed with his wolf form, shifting whenever he could to escape humanity. Liam was the opposite, choosing to live as human a life as possible because even though their mother had always told them it was okay to be a werewolf, society would never accept them as such. Humanity would never know of their existence, and the Werewolf council would always make sure they didn’t exist, so what was the point of trying to belong where you were not welcome?

The funeral came and went, and for months afterward their little village was alive with rumours of a black wolf roaming the graveyard at night. Some villagers put it down to the caretaker having too much to drink, but Liam knew that if he had checked Killian’s bed at night, he would have only found a pile of discarded clothes. If Killian needed to sit on their mother’s grave until the wee hours, whining at her loss and howling at the moon, Liam would not stop him.

Even in human form, Killian tried to remain as close as possible to his mother’s memory. She had taught him how to play piano, her proudest achievement, but Killian’s selections shifted from jolly tunes to pieces of a darker nature, the tinkering of the high notes replaced by the low vibrating boom that reflected his feelings. Liam let him play whatever he wanted to, compose whatever he wished, even if he would often find him slumped over the ivories bawling his eyes out at the end of each session.

He endured nearly two years, until one day, before his eighteenth birthday, Killian surprised him with a proposition that wasn’t totally out of the realms of possibility.

“America?” Liam asked with a snort, the milk from his cereal spoon dribbling down his chin as it escaped his mouth.

“Aye, America,” Killian repeated eagerly with a nod.

“And why would we want to go to America?” Liam asked his brother, his eyebrow raised and the back of his hand catching more wayward milk.

Killian shrugged the way most teenagers do when they do not want to divulge all the facts. “It will be an adventure,” he smiled. He dipped his own spoon into his bowl, the metal clattering against the edge of the porcelain, and scooped up a spoonful of golden flakes swimming in milk.

“But why America?” Liam pried, watching his brother intently. Killian had never mentioned America before, apart from a teenage obsession with Ford Mustangs and a large dog-eared poster hanging proudly on his bedroom wall. “Plenty of other places to create mischief.”

“It’s far away,” Killian said softly, his words muffled by his chewing and his eyes fixed on his spoon. He gripped the implement awkwardly, tapping the side of the bowl with a sigh. “I can’t stay here, Liam. In this house, without her. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Liam soothed, stopping his brother’s emotional ramble.

“It’s not okay,” Killian told him firmly, letting his spoon slide out of his hand and slip against the side of the bowl. “I can’t wake up in this house one more day without seeing her face, or hearing her voice, Liam. I can’t.”

Liam sighed sadly, fingers toying with the edge of his own breakfast bowl as he watched his brother began to fall apart once more. He had suspected Killian was hiding his sadness, forcing a brave face for the rest of the world, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Killian snapped. He had expected more rage, more things being thrown or smashing doors, but Killian was at the bottom of broken, and more childlike than Liam had ever seen him.

“Why have you been pretending, Killian? The last six months have been…” Liam began, offering his brother a chance to explain, which he couldn’t seem to contain.

“Hell,” Killian admitted, lifting his gaze. Their eyes locked across the table, no bigger than the seats they were perched on and Liam knew his brother was not exaggerating. “I’ve been trying to be the person the world wants me to be and I’m exhausted. I just can’t pretend anymore.”

“I miss her too, you know,” Liam said softly, dropping his gaze. “You can always talk to me, brother.”

“I know,” Killian said with a small smile. “I love you, Liam. Truly.”

Liam was taken back for a second. Killian had never told him he had loved him before, even if Liam knew it. They were brothers, bonded by more than just blood, and now all they had was each other. “I love you too, little brother,” Liam smirked, knowing how irritated his brother became when he teased him.

“Younger,” Killian scowled, his lips twitching to avoid a playful smirk.

“Younger,” Liam agreed amicably, reaching across the table and ruffling his fingers through Killian’s lengthening, black hair. He was still a boy essentially, the faintest sprouting of facial hair threatening to grow on his jawline, and sometimes Liam found it hard to treat him as the man he was becoming. “So, tell me, honestly, why America?”

“Father is in America,” Killian said suddenly, swiping a hand through his cheek-length fringe and parting it to one side so he could see his brother’s shocked expression.

Liam frowned and tilted his head. “How do you know?”

“The dark web,” Killian admitted without falter. He wouldn’t lie to his brother; they had been through so much and Liam would find out anyway.

“Killy,” Liam warned.

“I know, it’s dangerous and I shouldn’t have, but I paid a guy to find all of the Brennan Jones’ who lived in America and…”

“Wait, with what?” Liam blinked, his voice an octave higher.

Killian’s cheeks pinked under his brothers gaze. “I sold Milah.”

Just before their mother had been diagnosed, Killian had pestered her for the weeks leading up until his fifteenth birthday with the request for a motorbike. He promised not to ride it until he was sixteen and wanted to learn how it worked before he got his license so he could fix it if anything needed repairing. She had said no, but unbeknownst to him, Liam had already procured him the bike, hid it away in a neighbour’s garage and had been playing along with his mother’s ruse.

On his big day, Killian had been handed a small package, which contained just a pair of socks, some new sheet music for his piano and lastly a replica model of the bike he had really wanted. With a disappointed smile, Killian had thanked his mother and hugged her tight, knowing she really didn’t have the means to fulfill his dreams anyway. It wasn’t until later that day when she had sent him to the neighbour’s to fetch a parcel they had been holding, when he realised what she had done.

Killian doted on his bike about as much as he doted on his mother, constantly tinkering with it, tuning it and modifying it for when he could finally ride her. He named her Milah, a name he didn’t really know but found himself attracted to all the same. For a whole year, he tended to Milah’s every need, changing her oil and washing her fairings so often Killian’s mother warned him he would wash away the paintwork, until he turned sixteen and got his license.

Milah still had the bobbles on her tires when Killian finally hit the road, taking a few laps around their little village, to the annoyance of a few of the more elderly residents, but his joy was short lived. Less than two months after his sixteenth birthday, and shattering his very existence, Killian was told of his mother’s illness after she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. She had known she was ill for some time but had neglected to tell her boys, protecting them from the truth until she could no longer.

She was dying. Cancer. Killian put Milah into storage and focused all of his attention to caring for his mother.

“You sold your bike?” Liam gasped, trying to fathom what his brother had said.

“Aye,” Killian nodded.

“But she meant so much to you,” Liam blinked at his brother. “Why would you sell it to pay a man you do not know to find our father?”

“Because mother asked us to find him,” Killian frowned. Liam rolled his eyes in agreement. Of course, Killian was right. “And guess what?” Killian rearranged himself on his chair, leaned forward and pushed his half eaten cereal aside with the back of his hand.

“Go on,” Liam asked, only slight annoyance in his tone.

“Guess how many Brennan Jones’ live in America?” Killian smirked, running his tongue over the ridge of his teeth.

Liam narrowed his eyes at his brother, mirroring his know it all grin. “How many?”

“One,” Killian grinned excitedly.

“Well then, brother,” Liam inhaled hard, standing from the table and tugging up the waistband of his jeans. “Best start packing. We’re going to America.”

--

Two weeks had passed since the brothers Jones has set foot on American soil. They had arranged to stay with a childhood friend, Ruby Lucas, who had persuaded her father that the two strange British men who had shown up at their farm late one night were actually known to her. Ruby had gone to school in England, a boarding school near to where the Jones boys grew up, and when she had returned stateside, they had always kept in touch. Liam had reached out to her, knowing she would never deny his request of shelter and knowing her semi-secluded farmhouse home was perfect for a pining werewolf like Killian.

Ruby’s father, a widower, was ailing so in an attempt not to disrupt his life too much, Liam had suggested he and Kilian stay in one of the outbuildings away from the main house whilst they looked for a home in the city. They didn’t have anything but the clothes on their back and their life savings, but they had enough and it wasn’t long before Liam found work as a mechanic. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it gave him the opportunity to save a little.

Ruby’s father, known only to him as Nemo - though Killian suspected that wasn’t his real name - a now elderly gentleman, took a shine to Killian immediately. He had heard stories from his daughter, and whilst he was sure she was in love with at least one of the Jones brothers, he preferred the younger one, Killian. Nemo often said how he reminded him of himself, a young and carefree gent with a depth that would set the most confident women adrift. If only the old man had known about werewolves, he would have realised how right he was.

On Killian’s nineteenth birthday and a year after they had reached America, the brothers were still living on the farm. Liam was a mechanic by day and attended night school whilst Killian helped out around the farm due to Ruby’s father’s age. Nemo was fragile, his grey hair long since turned yellow and a half chewed cigar always in between his chubby little fingers. He always told Killian that they were Cuban, but his little smirk afterward told Killian otherwise.

“Cuban, you say?” Killian smirked back, pulling the last knots out of the mane of the mare he was grooming.

“Always,” Nemo declared, leaning against the stable door as he watched Killian groom the horse in front of him. “I picked up many on my travels.” He decided to finish his daily pleasure and stubbed out the quarter length cigar on the stable door, careful not to knock off the cherry tip and set the whole place ablaze.

Killian snorted a little and dodged a flick of the horse’s tail. “Ruby says you’ve never left the farm.”

“My boy, I’ve sailed a hundred seas a thousand times over.” Nemo caught Killian’s eye, his eyebrow raised high up on his brow and the horse between them let out a low, rumbling sound followed by a whinny.

“She says you haven’t.” Killian nodded at him and motioned to the horse, resuming his long brush strokes through her brittle mane. The horse’s skin twitched where his hands touched her, but she was relaxed, a hoof resting upon its curve edge and her head hanging low. “And I believe her.”

Nemo laughed this time and the rattle of a hacking cough sounded through the barn. Killian paused his grooming, but Nemo waved him away with a hand, covering his mouth with the other as he coughed more violently than his body could take. Killian has seen this kind of coughing before, from his mother, but as much as he had come to love Nemo, he knew the man would never talk about his ailments.

“I have lived a long time,” Nemo panted, catching his breath. “And I have never seen a man and a horse have such a rapport.” Killian gave him a soft smile, his hand following the brush as he moved onto the horse’s coat. She was shedding for the summer, soft, fluffy clumps of hair coming loose in his hands and falling to the stable floor below. “She likes you.”

“She reminds me of my mother,” Killian said softly. It was the first time he had mentioned his mother to anyone other than Liam and for the first time, it didn’t feel lonely or sad to talk of her. He felt warm, her memory like a comfort in his mind. “She has a gentle soul,” Killian added idly, running his hand down the velvet soft hair on the horse’s long face.

Nemo nodded in agreement, shifting his weight so he was more comfortably balanced on his other hip. “Do you ride?”

“No, sir,” Killian snorted, stifling a laugh. “I grew up in a city, so the closest thing to a horse I’ve ever ridden was my motorbike.” A smile played across his lips at the memory of Milah and the hours he had spent tuning every piston, wire, and baffle before he was finally able to ride her. His smile faded and he sidestepped so he could reach the horse’s rump. “I sold her to come to America.”

“Oh, it was a lady?” Nemo teased, giving Killian a sly grin. Killian blushed and nodded. “They always are,” Nemo told him with a knowing wave of his hand.

“My mother bought her for me before I could ever legally ride. I spent hours getting to know her, making sure I could get the best performance out of her, learning what made her purr.” Killian smirked.

“As you should with any woman,” Nemo winked and let out a laugh, short-lived because of another hacking cough he could not recover from.

Killian dropped the brush in his hand and immediately moved beside his friend, offering him his arm as he led him to a small milking stool nearby. The old man sunk down onto the rounded seat, hand clutching Killian’s shirt in his feeble fingers whilst trying to wave him away at the same time. Killian fetched his bottle of water nearby and offered it to Nemo, telling him to sip.

“Are you alright? Should I get Ruby?” Killian wasn’t sure how to help the old man, apart from offering to fetch his daughter, who, as a trainee veterinarian, was more than capable of tending to his needs.

“Don't you dare,” Nemo rasped, glaring and sucking in a deep breath, the redness dissipating from his cheeks. He leaned back against the closed stable door behind him and emitted a heavy sigh. Killian knew his time was limited, but he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place, so instead, he was simply there for the elderly man, holding him upright as he caught his breath.

“Can I do anything?” Killian asked gently, the almost see-through skin on Nemo’s hands white and ghostly as it rested in his. Nemo shook his head, breathing as deeply in and out as his failing lungs would allow. “Do you want to head back to the house?” Killian suggested. “I can finish up here.”

“How about we head out to the grey barn instead?” Nemo said between gasps. Killian looked at him with a frown. “There is something I have to show you.”

The grey barn was near the very back of the property, two buildings over from where Liam and Killian had been staying. The door was locked and to Killian’s knowledge, it always had been. Until now, neither Nemo or Ruby had ever mentioned it, or what was inside, and Killian’s interest was piqued as he helped the old man across the knee length grass field that surrounded it. Crickets chirped, jumping from the grass stems as they were disturbed by the two men, Nemo hunched over as he rattled a bunch of keys between his arthritic fingers.

“It’s one of these,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and clicking his tongue behind his oversized dentures.

“Here, let me,” Killian offered, holding out his hand to the old man. Nemo smiled warmly, handing him the bunch of keys. Most of them were rusted and so old they had been worn smooth and Killian eyed them hopelessly.

 “It’s a long, flat one,” Nemo told him firmly, pointing to the keys. “Ruby insisted on a more modern padlock, so it looks newer than the others.”

Killian looked down at the keys in his hand and scanned them quickly, not immediately seeing what he was supposed to be seeing. They were all orange, oxidized by years of exposure, so he began running his hands over them, feeling for the roughest one. When Killian thought he had found one that felt newly rusted, he held it up for Nemo who nodded.

“That’s the one,” he rasped, coughing to clear his throat. The old man waved a finger at the huge, round padlock which was equally as rusted, and gave Killian an encouraging nod. “Behind this door is something very dear to me, something that I have neglected ever since my wife passed away.”

“What is it?” Killian asked eagerly, wiggling the key into the lock and trying to turn the rusted mechanism.

“You’ll see,” Nemo grinned. The lock in Killian’s hand clicked open, the tumbler finally falling into place and he slipped the metal loop free from the latch.

The doors were heavier than any of the other barns Killian had entered, so after handing Nemo back his keys, he put all of his weight behind pushing the faded, wooden doors open. The bottom of one scraped across the ground, dust dancing in the sunlight that flooded into the barn as the door creaked open. Killian’s boots scruffed the ground as he sought to find his footing and after a little effort, the door hinges balanced out the weight of the door and it finally opened freely.

Killian righted himself as the door swung beyond his reach, confused by the dusty, off-white tarp covering what was clearly some kind of vehicle in front of him. Nemo shuffled past him, the gentle clatter of disused tools sounding out overhead as a bird that had taken up residence in the upper rafters of the barn took flight, exiting through a broken window in the top of the apex roof.

“Now,” Nemo began, reaching the tarp and lifting it over the hood. Dirt and debris flew everywhere, and the old man flinched away from the particles of dust that threatened to make him cough again. “She might not look like much,” he continued, dragging the brittle covering back over the now exposed car windshield. “But she has all of the right parts in all the right places.” Nemo gave the tarp one last tug and it fell to the ground behind the car that was now bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun.

Killian stepped towards the car, his heart all but stopping in his chest. It was the car of his dreams, he would recognise it anywhere, even covered in patches of rust and newly welded areas. It was a Mustang, a ‘67, the original blue paint long since chipped away, but still visible in places. The tires were all flat, but the wheels were original ten spoke rims, he could tell, and the bodywork was something he had only ever dreamed of seeing in person.

Killian reached out, his hand nervously touching the cold, hard metalwork, his lips twitching into a content smile as he ran his hand over the length of the hood. It was broken, there was no doubt about it, but every spec of rust told a story and Killian could feel every single word the car was saying to him as he skimmed his fingertips up the windshield and over the solid roof.

“This is a Shelby GT500,” Killian whispered, almost to himself as he noticed the rear quarter window scoops exclusive to that model.

“She is,” Nemo boasted proudly.

“With a 425 cubic inch big block V8?” Killian asked excitedly, his hands skimming back over the roof over the car. He paused on the driver’s door handle, the bubbles of rust poking through the chrome there.

“You know your cars,” Nemo noted with a smirk.

Killian let out an ecstatic laugh, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead. “I know this car,” he said softly, still in shock. “It’s really a Shelby,” he all but giggled, looking up at Nemo with a juvenile grin. “I can’t believe I’m touching it.”

“Marvelous, isn’t she?” Nemo smiled, watching the young man in front of him lavish his most prized possession with as much tenderness as he had done the first time he had seen her.

“She’s beautiful,” Killian breathed, unable to take his eyes off of the car.

“She’s yours if you want her,” Nemo told him casually.

“What?” Killian laughed nervously, head snapping up to meet the greyed eyes of Ruby’s dad.

“Just promise me one thing,” Nemo told him as he watched his own gnarled knuckles stroke the rear of the car. “You paint her dark blue when the time comes. With the dual over the top racing stripes.”

“Nemo, I can’t…” Killian began, his face paling.

“You can, Killian, and you will. Call it a birthday gift.” Nemo moved around the car, holding onto the body for support. “Ruby doesn’t want her, and we both know I am not long for this world. I want her to be cared for, lovingly restored to her former glory, not rotting away in a barn.”

Killian felt his legs weaken. He was nineteen, barely old enough to know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but he knew that what Nemo was offering was the one thing he had always wanted. “I don’t know what to say,” Killian said honestly, holding out his hand to the elderly man at his side.

“Say thank you,” Nemo teased, nudging Killian’s ribs with his elbow. He fiddled with the bunch of keys again, managing to twist a single ignition key from the bundle and offered it to Killian.

“Thank you,” Killian grinned, a wide ear to ear smile that made his ears bob up at the side of his head. He took the key, squeezing it in his palm before pulling Nemo into a hug. It was the first time Killian had ever had a father figure other than Liam and it meant the world to him that Nemo trusted him with the car.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough sappy business,” Nemo said gruffly, pushing Killian away weakly. They both laughed and Killian inspected the key in his hand yet again. “Back to work now,” Nemo ordered gently. “Those horses won’t groom themselves.”

“Aye, Aye Captain!” Killian grinned and took off out of the barn as quick as his legs could carry him.

--

Liam had always been a patient man, but over the last six months, Killian had really tested him. Ruby’s father Nemo had recently passed away and Liam had worried that it would affect Killian more than he would let on. However, after the funeral, Killian seemed just as happy, spending every free second he could with the car Nemo had gifted him. Liam wasn’t one for cars other than his job, but he knew what it meant to Killian and how, by restoring it, he would feel like he was honouring Nemo in the only way he could.

But he had spent too much time with it recently and Liam had decided to get his brother away from the farm and take him to the city. Ruby had some friends coming over to keep her company and if it were anything like last time, the sound of giggling women would keep him up all night, so he had planned a boys night out. He was twenty-five, approaching twenty-six, and Killian was still under twenty, so they would have limited options.

Unless they went underground.

Liam had been focusing on the underground Werewolf scene since they had arrived in the States, intently listening out for any chatter relating to his father. Killian brought them this far, albeit by illegal means, but it seemed a lot of the werewolf community operated under the radar. Liam was sure they would never find their father unless they went a little rogue, exploring the darker parts of humanity where most werewolves seemed to reside.

Liam had found a poker match, no limit Texas hold ’em, and he had managed to get two seats for them at the table. It would be full of werewolves, from all different packs and loners were invited too as long as no one found out they were mongrels. Liam hoped they could keep their heads down, maybe win some cash and find someone who knew their father. Or they would, if Killian ever finished styling his hair.

“Come on, Killian!” Liam barked, feet crossed at his ankles as he leaned against Ruby’s car. Liam flicked his wrist, checking his watch for the time and heaved a sigh. “Killian!”

“Alright!” Killian shouted, exiting the barn they called home, in a flash. He tugged his jacket over his arms, popping the collar on his shirt as he reached the car. Liam gave him an incredulous look and a twisted smirk. “What?”

“Out to impress are we?” Liam teased.

“You never know,” Killian told him with a wink. “I might have to seduce a lass to get information about father.”

“I highly doubt that,” Liam snorted, pulling the door of the car open and sinking into the driver’s seat. Killian got in the other side and gave his a brother a cocky smirk. “Alright, Casanova, let’s go.”

The alleyway behind the human nightclub was the perfect cover for an underground poker game, even if a little cliched. The bass from the music inside pounded so loudly it practically vibrated through their bodies as they made their way to the back door, the smell of alcohol-laced vomit and discarded food rife in the air. Killian scrunched his nose at the smell, but Liam ignored it, far more interested in the size of the doorman.

“Names?” The guard barked gruffly, eyes narrowing at the two younger faces in front of him.

“Barrie,” Liam said in a deep tone, peering down at the page. “B-A-R-R-I-E.”

The doorman ran his finger down the edge of the page, stopping when he noticed two identical surnames, one after the other. “Okay,” he said curtly. “Buy in is five grand a piece in mixed bills. We don’t have change.” He leaned behind himself and pushed open the door, the echoing thud of the bass tripling in volume as it spewed out of the club. “Down the steps, first door on the right. Password is Pan.” The guard pointed a fat finger down the corridor beyond the door and nudged his head sideways. “Good luck, boys.”

“We won’t need it,” Killian smiled as he breezed past the doorman. “But thanks anyway.”

When they finally made it to the room, it was far from what Killian had expected. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected to see, but years of American gangster movies had clearly set him up for disappointment. There were two tables, each seating eight wolves, one already full and a game in progress. Killian could smell they were all Were and in unison, six pairs of eyes turned and watched them approach the other table.

“About time,” one of the wolves snapped. He was slouched in his seat and had beady eyes and a bird like face, long with a pointed nose. He was clearly impatient, glaring at the youngest Jones brother with a cold, hard stare as Liam and Killian claimed their seats. “Bit young, ain't we pup?”

“No age rules,” the croupier spat, exchanging their money for chips. “Money is money, Walsh. You know that.” He sifted smaller bundles of cash onto the tray of a machine that whirred to life and flicked the notes into a small pile, automatically counting them as it did. When the bald headed croupier was happy, he slid each brother a pile of chips of various colours and denominations.

“No matter,” Walsh quipped, sitting upright in his chair. He laced his fingers together, pushing his hands out and cracking his knuckles. “You’ll be easier to beat. No hard feelings.”

Killian simply smirked. Nemo, God rest his soul, had been a lot of things during his time on this earth, and good at poker was one of them. Killian was a natural, learning the ways of the game quickly and then focusing his energy on noticing tells. “We’ll see,” he grinned at Walsh, the fair skinned wolf opposite him grumbling to his associate.

One by one, wolves dropped from the game and after several hours, many hours into the morning, the only two wolves left at the table were Killian and Walsh. Walsh had the upper hand with a larger pot, thirty grand to Killian’s measly ten. They had gone back and forth, each taking the lead, chips changing hands to and fro until Walsh finally had the advantage.

The dealer shuffled the cards, and Killian leaned his head on his hand, elbow resting on the plush, green table covering. Liam was at his side, out of the game but watching the scene unfold before him, hoping beyond all hope that his brother would not play the cocky hooligan any longer. Killian had managed to keep them in the game, and Liam had mingled with a few wolves at the bar, name dropping their father, but so far nothing had emerged. They couldn’t leave ten grand out of pocket, so Liam had returned to the table for the final hand, nervous and eyes fixed on the dealer as he shuffled the deck.

The buy in was up to five thousand and as the dealer slid two cards his way, Killian let out an exaggerated sigh. He was tiring, he knew it and so did Walsh, but his opponent was also running out of energy. Killian lifted the two cards, barely enough to see, and spied his hand; a ten of hearts and a five of spades. He let the cards slap back on the table and lifted his gaze to Walsh who was shuffling two stacks of chips into each other in a show of dominance.

“Ready to fold, young pup?” He said with a sadistic smirk. “You can’t beat what I’ve got.” Walsh motioned to his cards, his face betraying him. Killian had already worked out his tell, so he knew Walsh had a good hand. Maybe two face cards, maybe an ace, but Killian had also worked out that if Walsh thought he couldn’t lose, he’d get sloppy.

“Not this time,” Killian shook his head and pushed half of his remaining pot into the center of the table. Liam sighed, shooting his brother a panicked look that Killian ignored in favour of outstaring Walsh. “Pony up.”

The dealer gave Walsh a questioning glance and without hesitation, he threw a five grand chip into the pot. He slid the button back to its resting position in front of himself and then dealt out the flop - the first three cards - which came out as an ace of spades, ten of clubs and a five of diamonds. Killian refrained from smirking too obviously, casting a downward glance at his cards as he pretended to check them again, sitting back and watching the glee on Walsh’s face.

“Well now,” Walsh sneered. “How about that for interesting.” He gave a nod to the dealer and his face erupted in a darkly twisted grin. “All in.”

“Call,” Killian said without hesitation, eyes fixed on the wolf opposite him.

“What are you doing?!” Liam growled low, pulling his brother’s arm so he was able to whisper in his ear. “He clearly has at least one ace!”

“I know,” Killian murmured, watching Walsh’s revolting smirk grow wider.

“It’s so sad that I’ll only be winning an extra five grand at the end of this,” Walsh mused, sticking out his bottom lip as he picked up his cards and studied them again.

“Unless we make this even more interesting,” Killian told him, leaning forward and wrenching his arm from Liam’s grasp.

“Go on,” Walsh’s eyes lit up and narrowed as he leaned forward, mirroring Killian’s stance.

Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to his Mustang, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger idly. The shine of the metal key glinted in the low lighting, and even through the smokey haze of the room, Killian could see Walsh grinning like a greedy child. “‘67 Mustang, Shelby GT500,” he clarified quickly. “Worth about twenty-five grand,” Killian said slowly, making sure Walsh was listening. He tossed the key into the middle of the table, and it bounced on the pile of chips already there. “How’s that for interesting?”

“Killian, don’t do this,” Liam implored his brother, watching the gollum like expression on Walsh’s face. The wolf was greedy, he could tell, and a darkness ran through him too. Killian ignored Liam’s pleas, raising an eyebrow at Walsh as he contemplated the offer in front of him.

“Alright,” Walsh said after a beat, nodding to the dealer who gathered all of the chips and the key into a pile in front of him.

“Players will show their cards.” He pointed to the both of them and they turned over their hands at the same time. Liam’s face turned white when Walsh revealed a pair of aces, one club, one diamond, and when he noticed Killian’s ten-five, he buried his face in his hands.

“Good luck, pup,” Walsh laughed, oozing arrogance.

The dealer dealt a fourth card, the turn card, and it was an eight of diamonds. No help to either player. It kept them as they were, Walsh with the better three of a kind and Killian with two pairs. Killian gulped nervously and Walsh ran his tongue over the point of his canine, rubbing his hands together. Statistically, he had won, Killian knew that. The only way Killian was going to beat Walsh now was if a five or a ten came up, but the chances were slim.

“What colour is my new car by the way?” Walsh taunted and Killian gave him a hooded stare. “Doesn’t matter,” Walsh shrugged, grinning like a mad man. “I’ll be spraying it red anyway.”

The dealer sighed and turned over the last card he had dealt, his mouth twitching into a small smile. He had been the dealer in this place for years, serving creeps like Walsh and his alpha James, so it was refreshing to see someone like Killian, a young nobody, come in and take him down a peg or two. “Five of clubs,” he smirked, extending an arm out to Killian. “Full house beats three of a kind. Barrie wins.”

“No!” Walsh growled, slamming a balled fist into the table.

“You won!” Liam exclaimed, not really believing the words spewing from his mouth. “You won!” he declared, jumping to his feet, hands on his head, mouth opened in a wide grin and eyes fixed on the forty thousand dollars being counted out in front of him. “You only bloody won!” he cackled, shaking Killian ecstatically.

Killian remained calm, letting his brother push him around in his excitement. He simply stared at Walsh across the table and his face was paled, void of any emotion except shock. Killian’s mouth twitched, pulling up at the corners into a tight lipped smile as the dealer handed him his winnings. He palmed the key, gripping it tightly and saying a silent prayer to whoever had watched over him, and a silent apology to Nemo before slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans.

Killian stood, offering the dealer his hand and giving the man a tip for his trouble. It was late, the game had overrun some, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be compensated any other way. It wasn’t like an underground croupier got paid a decent wage.

Liam was still celebrating, handing his brother a beer he had quickly acquired from the bar and tapping the neck of the bottle with his own. Both brothers took a long swig of their beer, the fizzy, hoppy drink filling their mouths and making their tongues tingle. Killian finished his in three big gulps and slammed the bottle down on the table, grabbing Walsh’s attention. “No hard feelings,” he smirked smugly.

After a few congratulatory handshakes from some of the other players, Liam and Killian were on their way out the door. The doorman patted Killian on the back as they left so hard that he stumbled forward into the alleyway with a chuckle. They had decided to cut through the woods on the way back to their car, the same way they had come, and Killian couldn’t help but recall the look on Walsh’s face as he had lost.

“Did you see his face?” he laughed, his pockets padded out with all of his cash.

“Aye, brother, it was a sight for sure,” Liam chuckled, nodding his agreement. “I’ll admit, I was nervous when you bet the car, considering its condition.”

“Well, he wasn’t to know it wasn’t in a state worth what I indicated,” Killian shrugged with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing you won then.” Liam blew out a breath, his nerves calming a little. He patted his own pockets, full of the bills too. Total prize money was forty-thousand dollars, money neither brother had ever seen before. “This is a lot of money,” he grinned. “Well done, brother.”

“I’m going to restore the car,” Killian smiled. “For Nemo.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Liam agreed with a proud smile. His younger brother was becoming a man and his heart swelled in his chest at how much he admired his determination to always do the right thing. Killian may have been a troubled young man, but he always had his heart in the right place.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered and they both froze in their tracks, boots skidding in the dirt. Walsh appeared from behind an oak tree, hands behind his back as he stepped into the middle of the pathway. Liam instinctively stepped in front of Killian to protect him from the older wolf. “Look what I’ve found.”

“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Liam said calmly.

“Then hand over the money and no harm will come to you,” Walsh smirked, his expression not filling either brother with any confidence.

“I won fair and square,” Killian growled, his jaw clenched together. He threw his head back a little, inhaling hard and finding no trace of other wolves in the wind. Walsh was alone.

“Oh, I know,” Walsh nodded, toying with his bottom lip. “Congrats,” he spat sarcastically, holding out his hand. “Now hand it over.” He took a threatening step towards the brothers and Liam took a step back, pushing his brother away from the menacing wolf in front of them.

“If you want your money so badly, then come and get it.” Killian pushed hard against the resistance of Liam’s body, wrenching his arms from his jacket, balling it up in his hands and throwing it to the ground.

“Killian,” Liam warned his brother darkly, the hair on his neck standing at attention. Killian was slightly drunk and had no idea of the trouble he was getting into. Walsh was a pureblood and while he didn’t know they were not, they still had the opportunity to talk their way out of the situation.

“You’re a real cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Walsh snarled, his lips curling over his teeth in a disgusting smile.

“Joke’s on you,” Killian sneered with a laugh. “My mother was human.”

“Oh no.” Liam pinched his eyes closed. The one thing he had not wanted to divulge had just come tumbling out of Killian’s stupidly drunk mouth.

“Was?” Walsh scoffed, his words vile as they left his mouth. He looked the wolves in front of him up and down, a look of disgust on his face as he spat at the ground between them. “Good riddance.”

Liam had no time to stop his brother, who pushed him out of the way and was already in wolf form before he reached Walsh. Their mother was a trigger for Killian, his rage surfacing quicker than he had taken to get drunk and his shift taking over him before he had even registered his emotions. Killian lunged for the wolf before him, his legs ripping through his clothes, teeth bared and eyes wide. Walsh didn’t even look surprised when Killian attacked him, laughing sadistically as he fell backward, and the young, black wolf towered over him.

“Is that all you got?” Walsh spat, fingers gripping the excess skin at the side of Killian’s head, holding the snarling wolf from his face. Walsh chuckled again, turning his head to the side when Killian began to drool, a thin drizzle of slobber slowly inching towards his face. “You filthy mongrel dog!”

Killian barked in Walsh’s face, foamy spittle flicking against the man’s face. Walsh grabbed onto a scrap of Killian’s shirt that was hanging loosely around his neck and twisted it tightly until Killian began to gulp furiously for air. Walsh took the opportunity to gain the upper hand, digging his knee into Killian’s ribs and tossing him over his head, Killian’s wolf form writhing mid-air awkwardly.

“Stop!” Liam roared, rushing at his brother. He left Walsh laying in the ground, rushing past him to his brother who was scrambling back to all fours, snorting dirt from his nose and his hackles raised. Halting Killian with a steady hand and a pleading glance, Liam shook his head gently. “Killian, please.”

Liam barely had the words out of his mouth when he cried out, the hot, searing pain of a bite shooting up the back of his leg. Walsh, now in wolf form, had sunk his teeth into Liam’s calf and was shaking his head back and forth, the skin under Liam’s jeans tearing open in no time. Liam turned to his attacker, punching Walsh on the top of the head in an attempt to get him to let go, but all he felt was his jaws clamp down harder on his leg. Liam fell to the ground, the pain in his leg too much to bear whilst upright, and he kicked out at the grey wolf who was tugging at his limb.

Killian sprang over his brother’s fallen figure, ears flattened to his head and teeth bared once more. Walsh released Liam’s leg in order to defend himself, twisting his body sideways and jumping backward, feet scuffing through the littered forest floor. He lifted a leg and clawed Killian’s face, the young wolf wincing away with a yelp as he felt the skin on his cheek open up and ooze with fresh, hot blood.

Killian shook his head, pawing at the side of his face as pain rocked through his head, blood coating his fur and almost blurring his vision. He saw Walsh circling around him, head low and growling, the sound a deep vibration in his throat. Killian circled the opposite way, darkened stare boring into the older wolf in front of him, sizing him up should he need a defense. It wasn’t long before Killian needed to execute his plan. Walsh ran towards him, feet skidding in the fallen leaves and as Killian dodged his charge, he sunk his teeth into the soft skin of Walsh’s neck.

It was so fast, all happening in a split second that left Killian with a mouth full of fur and skin and Walsh yowling in pain. Walsh had left his neck wide open for a bite and the momentum of his forward lunge had caused more damage than either of them thought possible. Killian’s jaws had grabbed a sizeable chunk of Walsh’s neck tissue, ripping it clean off and leaving the wolf with a jagged-edged wound that seeped crimson with every heartbeat. Walsh fell to the ground, squirming in agony as he clawed at the wound site, almost passing out from the blood he was losing and not seeing the huge tree branch as it struck his skull.

“Now stay down,” Liam growled at the unconscious wolf at his feet, throwing the huge, thick branch aside and panting from the exertion of swinging it.

“Is he dead?” Killian asked breathlessly, shifted back to his human form and stark naked behind his brother. His face was smeared with blood that coated his teeth, the red colour contrasting his pale expression. “Did I kill him?” Killian panted heavily, chest heaving, eyes dark with a beast Liam had never seen before. He wanted Walsh to be dead. He craved the feeling of having taken a life, a small twitch of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Liam looked down at Walsh, the wolf out cold but not dead. He toed the canine body with his boot and it let out a gruff growl. He was injured, but he would heal. “He’ll live,” Liam assured Killian with a distasteful tone. “Unfortunately.”

“We should get going,” Killian said quickly, casting a glance around the secluded clearing. The scent of humans lingered in the forest and whilst there were none around at this hour, Killian knew there would be soon enough. “What are we going to do about him?” Killian motioned his head towards Walsh, bending down to retrieve his jacket, the last piece of clothing left unshredded.

“Leave him,” Liam shrugged, turning away from the wolf on the ground. “We don’t owe him anything.”

“Come on,” Killian urged his brother with a tug on his arm. “Let’s get you back to the farm so Ruby can take a look at that leg.” Killian lifted Liam’s arm and ducked underneath, letting his brother lean his weight on him as he hopped alongside him.

“Some night, huh, little brother?” Liam laughed, his chuckle cut off with a wince when he knocked his leg on a tree root that was sticking up out of the ground.

Naked and covered in blood, patches caked onto his skin and matted in his chest hair, Killian laughed dryly. “Younger,” Killian droned sarcastically. “Can’t wait to see what you have planned for when I’m twenty-one.”

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 10

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

A/N: This was such fun to write. Hope you’ll enjoy it as well … ;-)

Evangeline POV

Ridge House presents itself at its best to receive its royal family back at their residence. Magnetrons in immaculate uniforms, both Samos cousins and commoners, line the way with utmost respect and drill. Their shiny guns are held in firm grips, each one is custom-made by its owner’s magnetron ability. As are the numerous blades, some of the larger ones lifted up in the air when our arrival is announced.

I step out of the shadows beneath the plane, laying my hand as slowly as possible on Tiberias’s arm; he stands rigid and controlled. It shall not matter. Silver royals don’t need to smile friendly at their court. The prince and I are set to go first so the kingdom of the Rift may admire their princess and the rightful king the family’s brought back from his drear exile. As if he was a prize I won when it’s a sentence for both of us. In his uniform, he looks just like a year ago, when no one doubted the crown prince’s ascension. On his side, my metal dress gleams even though I haven’t put thought into it, and only let the metal form itself into a wearable shape. Yet Mother asked me to fix a few black cloths onto it which now move slightly in the breeze and brush the bare parts of my skin. I haven’t made efforts with my hair either, now it falls down oddly straight. 

Our soldiers actually cheer at our small parade and they become louder when Mother and Father follow behind me. Back on the plane, Mother complained how much she’d prefer to have a cat of prey accompanying her but it was impossible to bring one to Corvium to begin with. Now she can’t wait to make up for it and check on her menagerie here as soon as possible while Anne, her falcon, flies behind her. The bird is right before Queen Dowager Anabel who walks alone, in front of the Silver soldiers picked to fight in the battle a month ago. Tolly would’ve walked with her, if he didn’t stay in Corvium. I miss him already while he has Wren staying with him.

I look forward to glimpse at the people expecting us right before the door. It has to be Elane. Meanwhile, Tiberias falls out of step as we walk beneath the raised swords. I’d laugh but I have to maintain the regal composure of the princess, thus I limit my amusement to a sneer. All of this magnetron show, confronting him with the new rival kingdom, must unsettle the prince: But for a Samos, the more metal is the better, however threatening we seem. Blades are as natural to us as eating.

I wish I could walk quicker but I know what’s expected of me, who’s done these performances my whole life. The rhythm is ingrained into my pulse. Even when my excitement grows the closer I move to Elane. Her smile, still small in the distance, is warmer than the sunlight. The light tickles my skin because Elane plays with it, until a beam crosses my face directly. This jester. I can’t avoid blinking and she winks at me.

She’s so beautiful that my lips twist into a smile and I forget the prince next to me. Elane wears loose black linen with a few golden decorations, the dark fabric a contrast to her otherwise glowing appearance. Her skin is tanned golden and her hair is pinned up - making me long to let it fall down again – while her crown of gold, silver and diamondglass sets it alight and creates little rainbows around her.

“The princesses of the Rift!” the steward next to her, Cristoph Samos, calls out and the feeling of being home overwhelms me.

The compulsory protocols wash over me easily when Elane is with me. I almost forgot this feeling in my former desperation but once we’re together, my fears shrink. We are the princesses of a new kingdom and we are going to rule. Whatever Tiberias or my father commands, we can’t be separated.

Elane and I escape to my room before the next round of welcoming festivities begins. Basking in the sunlight, she lays on my bed, her hair spread out on the white sheets is all fire, copper, wine and garnets.

“You’re always lounging, Elane,” I say to her.

“And you can never sit down, Eve,” she retorts. “Come to me,” she beckons, “you look terribly exhausted.”

“You’re rudely frank.” I sit down and her fingers travel over my hand. I sigh. “It’s true, I worked out for two hours before the plane left. I … might’ve trained too hard in the last month in general.”

“Eve.” My name from her mouth feels like a caress. I lie down next to her and, suddenly weary from its weight, I let my metal dress melt away and flow to the floor.

Elane stares at me with wide eyes. “That was awesome, my love.”

“Thank you.” I have to grin but my eyes are already closed. Elane kisses my brow, the tips of her hair tickling my cheeks.

“Welcome home, my beloved princess,” she whispers.

The princesses of the Rift are admired at Ridge House court and its town. The welcoming banquet has already shown how popular Elane has become, as she’s been at the Nortan court. Her easy chatting isn’t my way but as I watch her interact and notice the different way the subjects behave towards her, the truth emerges. Yesterday I was happy to lose my stress of the past weeks in Elane’s arms but the memory remains, the marriage to Tiberias still looms over me.

It wasn’t like that for Elane. She had time to practically rule the Rift in her fashion, without Mother and Father directing her every step. The idea they will soon enough terrifies me. Elane’s sworn to me she hasn’t even slept in one bed with Tolly so far and they don’t intend to for a while but how long before my parents will demand they do, to have their grandchildren and play in their schemes, as they expect of me?

“… I hope the queen dowager has brought supplies with her,” Elane says while we walk through the town. “Our kingdom … goes well enough, but it doesn’t exactly thrive. The trade died down and literally everything is very new …”

I snicker. “What a good queen you make!”

She postures immediately. “I do, and you should only address me as such.”

“As what?” After another laugh and a look around, I kiss her cheek. She’s less hesitant and kisses me back on the mouth.

“No, seriously,” she continues later. “I’m worried. We have to keep an eye on the Reds, or our country will shatter. They need to feel safe, and I as good as stopped the newsfeeds to the techies.” She sighs. “Apart from your video, of course. That one was gold, and it’s better to work with that Guard.”

I tilt my head in doubt.

“Surprised? As Tiberias said, these are times of change and we have to change with them, or we’ll lose everything. But tell me, Eve, what does Tiberias do actually?”

Indeed, what is my esteemed betrothed doing, besides brooding? The following week, he sulks at dinners, stays silent in meetings, and sticks to himself while training – when he even shows up. He doesn’t try to bond and be friendly as he was just a year ago and at night, he turns up the volume of a music maker.

“At least he likes some kind of metal,” Mother purred yesterday, about the noise he listens to. “That’s a beginning. Eve, why don’t you show him around, introduce him to the animals?”

Mother doesn’t change, her words are always both command and encouragement I must act on. I have to search for him for half an hour before I find him reclining on a patch of grass and to my rejoice, he startles when he hears me on the gravel path.

He sits up annoyingly slow. Scowling, he asks, “don’t the metal clothes all the time drag you down once in a while?”

I snort, stopping myself from biting my lip. “Says the man who’s been moping for a year now and tortures us all with that mu –, sorry, noise-pollution.”

He crosses his arms, scowling meaner. “So what? I’ve never seen you not sneering, whether you’re haughty or disgruntled.”

“Ahaha mumumu.” A laugh as fake as this betrothal. “Oh, I’m hardly a paragon of discontendedness, hisses and glares. I have fond memories of your Red commander.” I pause. “Not.”

Tiberias gets up, about to walk past me without a further glance. I call after him, “are you finally ready for a tour of the Ridge House, your – “

He turns, I stumble into him. “She has every reason to despise you. Her – she and Shade Barrow were in love, so maybe you should stop joking.” He tries to look intimidating but I hardly know anyone who doesn’t. I give nothing away so our gazes fix each other in place.

“Will you come with me?” I ask again, oozing politeness.

“Where?” It’s more a waiver than a word.

I tilt my head, returning to my assigned text. “Everyone likes animals, don’t they? I think you need a distraction, your Highness.” He shows no reaction to the wrong title although his grandmother insists we address him as his majesty. Maybe majesty would be more of a jab.

Instead he shrugs, still displaying his informal slouchiness but he comes along. Apparently, he likes the animals, unlike me who’s learned to fear them. I have to suppress this conditioning, reminding myself there’re many new beasts here who Mother’s allied relatives have brought upon arriving here, animals who aren’t her familiars. On the other hand, at least I know what Mother’s pets are up to.

Tiberias laughs at the lizards jumping and climbing spryly.

“You’re that one,” I say and point to the fire salamander.

He frowns, as I intended. “It’s so small – “

“Any complexes about size, your Highness?” I stare him dead in the eyes, no muscle in my face moving while he’s gasping.

“And over there, that raven’s Maven,” I go on.  "Annoying, screeching, too clever for his own good and“ – a dramatic pause – “always wearing black.”

This time, he can’t decide if he allowed to laugh - though he obviously wants to. He’s adamant to push down any enthusiasm, but I’m in a run. I drag him farther, making the wildest and most accurate animal comparisons. “Mother has no feeling for canines,” I explain while we’re at the wolf. “So, it only sits idly in its cage though Mother desperately wanted this noble beast. It reminds me of Princess Iris.”

“Ah, the que – ? I mean, yes, the princess, right,” Tiberias corrects himself as I glare at him.

I nod to him in approval. “The cats are more to her liking. You see the tiger over there?” I crack a smile. “Isn’t it uncannily resembling the Red commander?”

“Why, does it have a cub?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind,” he says. “Are you done? Or have you found Mare’s animal form too?”

“Of course,” I say sweetly. “An obvious choice, I think of the pony I rode as a child.”

He storms off in a rage, I run after him. “If all you can do is being mean, I don’t see a point in talking to you!” he shouts at me.

“So you’ll just remain lazy? How is that better? Mare Barrow would be so disappointed to see you’re giving up your claims of unifying and equality!”

He turns, literally fuming. “I don’t have to hear that from the good daughter who follows every order of her parents to its brutal letter and frequently attacked Mare on mere whims!”

I slap him.

“How unusual of you to use your own hands,” he hisses. “I expected a spike in my heart.”

“Why should I, you and I feel those spikes all the time,” I whisper, avoiding his face for the first time.

“But you don’t have to,” he replies, and silence ensues, stressing the insurmountable chasm between us.

“Maybe we should re-evaluate our positions,” I say eventually. “Elane’s got an invitation to her cousin’s wedding in Archeon, and wouldn’t you love to crash it and finish … this … for good?”

He says nothing at first. “Maybe we should re-evaluate our whole lives, princess.” He leaves, and this time, I don’t follow.

The next day, he presents his battle plans to Father and their advisors. They discuss for the rest of the week before they make a decision: While Maven is rumoured to return to his capital, we’re about to attack.

A/N 2: I really need a further fic on this where Cal tells his terrible puns and Eve makes gay jokes.

 @hannaharies @samanthaslytherin @mareshmallow @clarafarleybarrow @inopinion @lilyharvord @redqueenfandom @spookysamos @asewhj @runexandra @mikey-waysjawline @red-queen-united @redqueenforever

[hotsterfield]

Downside of living abroad - Tom Holland

Word count: 1246

You had been living abroad for about 8 months now. You’ve been home 3 weeks ago, but today you got the news from your mom. You grandmother had died last night. You were heartbroken. You always looked up to your grandmother, she had taken care of you when your parents weren’t home. As you became a teen, your parents started to care more about their jobs. They knew you were very independent, but they travelled a lot, so you always turned to her.

When you and your best friend had your first fight at 14, she gave you advise, and helped you apologize to her. At 16, when your first boyfriend broke your heart, she comforted you. She even called your school the next day, saying you were sick. At 18, she helped you make the decision about college. You wanted a gap year, but because of Brexit everything could change if you waited. The future was unclear, but you always wanted to study in England. She told you to never base life decisions on money. It was just paper. Happiness can’t be weight in paper.

So, you took your gap year in London, where you met the love of your life. At least so far, he was. She was the first one to know, and now she was just gone. There was a long way home to your country of origin, and you knew your grandmother didn’t want you to spend the money or the time on going home for her funeral. She never believed in death. When your cat died when you were 13, she told you, how the soul lived on.

You let your fingers gently touch the ink on the paper, where you had just been working. You had drawn her favourite bird, as a way to say goodbye to her. She had been sick for a long time, so you knew her time would eventually come, you just weren’t prepared for it to be now. You had never been so home struck as you were now. You left the drawing at the table, as you went back to your bed, the heartache taking over again.

It had taken you 5 hours to draw the bird, because you had started crying so many times. Now you were full on sobbing, and just holding your teddy bear close to you, trying to find some kind of comfort, but everything felt empty. You felt like there was a hole in your heart, and it was just hurting so bad.

“Babe?” You heard the familiar voice say, as the door to your bedroom opened. You didn’t even look up at him. “Hey, darling. What the matter? What’s the matter?” He ran towards you, and sat down on the floor next to your bed. He looked up at you, concern filling his eyes.

“She’s gone” You whispered. You still couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth. “She’s dead, Tom” You added, as you let out yet another sob. You heard him sigh, and you knew he knew what you meant. He knew she was sick, and he knew how much she meant to you.

“Darling, I’m so sorry” He got up, and laid down on the bed, gently pushing you just a bit towards to middle. He didn’t even say a word, as he wrapped his arms around you, and just held you tight. It was usually all you needed to find comfort, but today it didn’t work. If anything, it just made you even more upset, and you knew he felt it too.

“Love, is there anything I can do for you? Do you want to talk about it?” He offered. I just shook my head. He couldn’t bring her back, no one could. You hated having him see you this way. You were a mess. You knew he hated seeing you upset, and even though you were hurting, you didn’t want to upset him.

“Can we just watch movies tonight? I just need a moment alone first” Your voice cracked several times, but you weren’t sobbing as much now. “Alright darling. Whatever you need” He lightly pressed his lips against your cheeks, as he left the bed. You let the tears flow for a while. You knew she was in a better place now. She was flying free like a bird, like she always said she would.  You gathered yourself, and took a deep breath.

You kept reminding yourself that she was in a better place, that she was happy, that she had finally found peace. As your breathing got steadier, you slowly got off the bed. You were still sad, but it was more tolerable. You walked out of the bedroom, to find that Tom was gone. You sat down on the couch, thinking he might just have went to the bathroom. Shortly after the front door opened, and Tom and Harrison walked in, carrying several boxes.

Harrison sat down the boxes, gave you a hug, and left just as quickly as he had come. Then a strange sound came from one of the boxes, almost sounding like a meow. You shot Tom a look, as he brought one of the boxes to you.

“I got you something” He opened the box, and took out a beautiful fluff ball. “Her mother abandoned her. She’s about 4-5 weeks old. I know you used to have a cat back home, and I thought… Maybe it would cheer you up a bit” He told as he gave you the kitten. She was pretty. One of her cheeks were red, and she had red spots all over her white and grey fur. You could feel the tears pressing again, but this time it was happy tears. This boy was just too perfect.

“No! Don’t get upset! I can take her back! I thought you’d be happy. I’m so so sorry!” He panicked as he saw your tears. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, as you held the kitten to your chest. She quickly clung to your shirt, trying to bite your hair. “It’s happy tears. You’re too sweet, Tom. You really didn’t have to. I don’t know what I would do without you right now” His face suddenly turned into one big smile. “I thought we could call her Y/G/N”

“It’s perfect” You laughed again, as the kitten crawled to your shoulder. “Oh shit! I forgot the ice cream. Oh god, I hope it hasn’t melted” He ran to one of the boxes, and put the ice cream in the freezer. The void you had felt in your heart was gone, and you once again realized how much you loved that idiot.

“Tom, what’s in the other boxes?” You asked, as he walked back to you. “Well. I couldn’t just give you a cat. So, I got a litter box, a cat tree, toys, food and more toys” He sat down on the floor and started unpacking the boxes. “I might have gone a bit overboard with the toys” He said as he turned one of the boxes upside down. Possible all cat toys ever invented fell to the floor, making you giggle.

You joined him on the floor. You forgot all about watching movies, and instead you spent the whole night playing with the little fur ball. Once again, Tom made you forget even being upset. He knew exactly what you had needed, even when you didn’t. How could you have gotten so lucky?

(This could be the kitten Tom got you. I based the kitten on her anyway)

[mcrmadness]

Oh gosh I’m at it again. I having the exact same feels I had 10 YEARS ago. The exact same ones. I feel like I need to get away from this town. Here’s absolutely nothing for me, I don’t have friends, here’s no jobs nor anything I could study. Just NOTHING. All my friends live way too far away and the only friend who lives here, we meet so so seldom it’s as if we didn’t even live in the same city and we actually live less than 2km apart from each other.

But I don’t know how to leave this city. I am constantly trying to ask people to come here instead and I have actually been doing this with my online friend since I was 14. I had one online friend back in the day, who was also very lonely and we even tried to convince her mom to move here with their family. The reason why I do this is because I also have everything here. I have nothing but also everything. My family lives here and I think my family might be having bit of “separation anxiety” because if I don’t pick up the phone or answer the messages in one day, they all go batshit crazy and worry that something has happened to me. And I’ve only been tired and not on the mood. And every time I try to say something about what if I moved to somewhere else, both my parents go like “You can’t leave? What about us? We would miss you?” and then there’s also the pets. I didn’t move out from their house even until I was 23 because I had a cat and I felt like I can’t move without the cat. Well the cat died when I was 21 and then it was really weird because now the cat was not an obstacle anyway but on the other hand I also felt like someone pulled a rug from under me because that cat was the meaning of my life and I literally was living for him, and then he died (he was 13) and left me here and I felt like now I had no reason to be alive. I didn’t want to die, but I just had no reason to live because my cat passed away, if that makes any sense. That was one of the reasons, along with several other big things, that led to my mental breakdown that year (2012).

I feel lonely in this city but at the same time I don’t want to leave because I kinda want to have everything but if I left, I should give up so many things. I also have my previous employers here and their horses, and I love those horses so much, but I can’t take care of their horses for a living. In the end I have everything here but still I feel like something is missing because I don’t feel like I’d still fit in anywhere.

10 years ago I was trying to look for horse schools from Germany - I kid you not. I was actually considering that and then found out about the zookeeper (animal caretaker, whatever...) school. But then I figured I spoke no German si it’d be a really bad idea to go to another country to study in a language you don’t speak. And that’s why I decided to start learning German in Finland instead. I think I studied it on my own for the first year or so because in 2011 I enrolled to a course in the upper secondary school and that took 3 years to go through all 8 courses. I could have done the A level exams from German but I never did that because I felt like I was not good enough yet and I didn’t want to try unless I would get the best grade so that I wouldn’t need to ever go back just because I wouldn’t be happy with the grade. But I never did. In 2014 I then found out about adult education system in vocational schools in Finland and that was exactly what I had wanted since 2010, but I was now almost 23 and the age limit there was 20 or something. And I then started school and that took another 2 years and in December 2016 I graduated and I’m officially a horse groom. Then I continued my studies the next year and ended in 2018. And now it’s 2020 and I have just been at home since November 2018 (well I was working last year for a few months but it did not turn out that good) and now it’s time for me to start wondering again what the fuck I want from live. I’m on a sick leave until this autumn for mental health reasons. I’m turning 29 years tomorrow and I still have no fucking clue what I want from life. Or I do, but I can’t do any of that in this society nor under this system. Horse work is my only suitable work but it’s also very exhausting and I’m afraid it would be even more exhausting than what it has been so far because I happened to have one of the best types of an employer and unfortunately not all people are like this person. And I get mental breakdowns and become burntout very easily if even minor things are off. And no one hires someone who might suddenly take sick leave worth months because the capitalist system crushes them. And I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.

So yeah, kinda getting sick of this town again because absolutely nothing happens here and I feel like I’m slipping back to that grey mass where I no longer care about anything because there’s nothing enterntaining enough so I look for that from escapism instead. The same thing what I have been doing for the last 10 years and I just wish I could go back to 2010 and have all the knowledge and degrees and experiences I got because I feel like that decade was full waste of time.

[princessconsuelapark]

Secrets, Tears and What-ifs - Part 29

Author: Blake (justrainythings) Pairing: Ant McPartlin/Declan Donnelly Word count: 5 994 words Summary: After the Sun outing them and their secret 20-year affair, they have to deal with paparazzi, girlfriends, wives, family and... their feelings for each other. Angst. Fighting. Serious stuff. Yay. :) Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 & Part 4 & Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7 & Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10 & Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13 & Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16 & Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19 & Part 20 & Part 21 & Part 22 & Part 23 & Part 24 & Part 25 & Part 26 & Part 27 & Part 28

// Chapter on AO3 - er, well... hello, I guess? let's get straight to the point and do this in numbered bulletpoints yay 1. I'm sorry for being shit at updating, but hey, here's a new chapter, how about that?

2. This is my first chance at properly expressing this, so here it is: I'M SO FUCKING INCREDIBLY PROUD OF ANTHONY DAVID MCPARTLIN AND I LOVE AND SUPPORT HIM TO THE MOON AND BACK UNTIL MY DYING DAY AND BEYOND <3 <3

3. This chapter would have never been written if Abiee (@abieeoliver21​) hadn't asked me to include a certain someone - I know it was 8 million years ago, I’m not even sure you’re still reading it, but this is for you, love :)

4. No plot in this chapter, really - just some random (and mostly surface-value) soul-searching stuff and no one really gets to the bottom of anything. Bit of foreshadowing and mentions of stuff to come though haha.

5. I'm so so so SO incredibly thankful to everyone who's still here, who's still reading this, who's still interested, who still makes an effort to comment. Honestly, honestly, cross my heart. Every single person who's waited a minute for this chapter, a couple months, or a few years (god, I'm shit at this). I love you all so much, thank you a million for all your amazingess <3 <3 (also: usual warning for the usual swearing)  //

so because the last update was hundreds of years ago (please don't hate me), it's re-cap time !!

Ant and Dec have been having a secret affair for 20 years, but suddenly they are outed to the whole world, ouch. (To be fair, this is the premise of the fic, so I guess, you all remember that much at least. I mean, I hope so. I know it's been a year, but like... The summary is right there when you click on the bloody thing, yeah? Fuck, it's been a year. Please please don't hate me.)

They fight a lot about stuff - which they never do (scary!) -, while trying to navigate the minefield their personal and professional life has become. It turns out, Dec was quite upset about Ant marrying Lisa, thinking that Ant had given up on him, while Ant was never really conscious of the fact that he was actually in love with Dec.

Now though, Ant had broken up with Lisa, while Dec never really saw the need to do so with Ali (which, let's admit, was not the most eloquent way of handling this, but this fic is about Ant and Dec being in love, so we don't really give a shit about that), so they are both available, but terrified of what that means. Dec even had a couple of emotional, panic attack-like breakdowns (mainly in bathrooms? which is... weird, I guess?) that Ant is fairly concerned about. His family didn't take the news the best way possible. Especially his Mam.

They somehow got through Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and are currently half-way through Saturday, the day of their first live show of Saturday Night Takeaway. They are nervous, but as the show draws closer and closer, and more problems arise, they rely and depend more on each other than ever, defaulting back to their AntandDec-ness (and being very cute, if I might add).

Meanwhile a very old, but quite dramatically disgusting picture of them kissing surfaces suddenly and to push it out of circulation, Ali suggests to wander down to a nearby park and do a pap-walk, so they can provide less awful, and more lovey-dovey, kissing and hand-holding photos for the press. (Oh, and there's this homophobic little woman in the park who calls them out on kissing, but they handle it well, phew.) With that push, it's kind of decided for them and they more or less finally agree that they should be together and "properly date", if you will, although they are still quite shit at the whole having "The Conversation" thing. Ant admits to a few things that he wanted to come clear about (namely a sexual encounter of his with another man), Dec is not exactly sure how he feels about that (apart from unhealthily jealous and possessive).

Currently Ant is not really feeling on top of things, following a visit by Little Ant and a voicemail from his Mam. He mainly just wants Dec, who's left to get tea like ten minutes ago and to be fair, that's already way too much time to spend apart, so.

Dec is leaning on the bar counter in their studio's green room, waiting for their teas to brew, distractedly munching on a Jammie Dodger when she just wonders in. He tries to say something along the lines of 'oh shit', but he's mid-bite and he kind of chokes on a piece of biscuit and consequently starts coughing immediately. He tries to spit the soggy biscuit crumbs into a napkin in the most dignified way possible and she starts laughing at him heartily. And well, Dec really doesn’t appreciate that, despite knowing how ridiculous he must look. He is still concentrating pretty hard on, you know… not dying when she pulls him into a thorough hug.

It’s a long one and it feels like, she’s trying to tell him something with it, he’s just not quite sure what, but nevertheless it’s reassuring in a way that can only come from the familiarity of someone you’ve known a really long time.

'Cat,' Dec finally manages when they come out of the hug, wiping tears from his eyes, still coughing a bit, but breathing a lot more easily now. ‘Hey pet.’

‘You okay, love?’ she asks, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear, laughing again.

He nods and for a moment they just stare at each other in silence because of how impossible the whole thing feels – Cat is here (here in England - and in their green room, of all places!) and well, also, Dec almost just died in a Jammie Dogder-related accident. Maybe he could sue ITV. Where there’s a blame, there’s a claim, he thinks vaguely humorously.

Then Cat says, 'You completely forgot, I was coming, didn’t you.’

And… that, he did.

They set it up weeks and weeks ago – she texted him a couple times and she was coming back home to England for a bit anyway, so they were talking about going out for dinner, the three of them, after the live show, to do a bit of catching up.

But lately they've not really been on top of things, to say the least, and in the chaotic whirlwind of all kinds of pictures in tabloids and their messy fights, Dec’s been feeling like he can only focus on the task that’s directly ahead of him in order to avoid going absolutely crazy.

So, actually, no, he didn’t just forget about Cat coming; it seemed like, setting it up never even happened, or maybe in another lifetime, but definitely not only a few months ago.

Cat is still looking at him, so he simply just nods yes, because they’ve been friends for way too long to lie to her about something like that.

‘We did, I'm so sorry. There's just been some stuff going on and- I mean, it's great that you're here though-’

'It's great that you think that it's great that I'm here,’ Cat interrupts him quickly with a relieved smile. ‘Because I wasn't sure whether I should come or not after all this stuff. I mean, you guys invited me, but you know. All this is happening…’ here she makes a vague motion with her hand implying all this that’s currently happening, ‘But I just thought, you know, I don't come home all that often nowadays, so…'

'No, it's great, I'm honestly chuffed,’ Dec tells her and when he actually thinks about it, he comes to the conclusion that he’s not lying about this at all, not even a little bit; he’s glad that Cat is here. She represents something that’s constant, something that’s still normal in their life. ‘You look great, by the way,' he tells her, making her smile.

She really does. Dec has always kind of been half in love with her from the very first moment and it’s still like that. She’s really pretty – she’s always been, but she looks attractive in a more sophisticated way now –, Dec could die for her long blondish hair (although nowadays it’s more light brown, he notices), she also has a sort of delicate feminineness about her that he’s fascinated by, but at the same time he’s always loved her ever-present crude sense of humour and he knows, she’s always up for a laugh. She looks older than he remembers, but it suits her and – it’s a cliché, but she kind of grew into her face.

'Thanks, darling. I don’t look as great as Ashley Roberts though – I just ran into her outside and wow. Very American,’ she says the last bit like it’s a nasty piece of gossip and Dec loves her for that even more.

Dec laughs. 'Yeah, she is.’ Then he considers it, ‘You’re kinda very American too,' he adds with a playful smile.

‘Shut up,’ Cat says, dismissing him easily with a wave of her hand in a way that says, she’s very much used to this kind of banter. ‘You know what I mean though, she’s just… wow.’

‘She definitely is,’ Dec admits and to be fair, she’s totally Dec’s type. Still, if it ever came to it - if he was not fiercely in love with his best friend, that is -, he would choose Cat over Ashley any day.

'But last I heard, you were taken…' she says and horrifyingly, it sounds like a question, or at least something that Dec should elaborate on, and while the tone is mockingly mischievous, he can’t help but hear a fair amount of caution in it.

Cat doesn’t look sure if she has any business asking about this and Dec… Well, Dec has no idea what he thinks about that. He doesn’t have much experience with talking about relationship stuff and it’s definitely even harder when it comes to his relationship with Ant, because that’s never been something that was openly up for discussion. He has no idea where the lines are, what he feels comfortable sharing.

‘I… Sort of, yeah,’ he manages, and he can’t help, but feel that this uncertainty is kind of a setback, but to be fair, it has been an absolute roller-coaster of day and Dec doesn’t feel like putting much more energy into expressing his inner turmoil more adequately.

Cat raises an eyebrow. She looks hurt, like Dec just said something wrong, something slightly problematic. Dec has no clue why though, so he waits for her to elaborate.

'Come on, Declan, don't do this,’ Cat pleads, her voice strangely high-pitched. ‘I’ve known you for…'

'Oh. It's not- I’m not not telling you, Cat,’ he protests, understanding Cat’s reaction now. ‘It’s just, well, I’m not sure how it works at the minute.'

Cat raises a perfectly shaped, sceptical eyebrow at that. ‘What’s this then?’ she asks, shoving her phone into Dec’s hand and wow, that’s…

‘Weird,’ he says dazedly.

Dec thinks he really should get used to seeing pictures of him and Ant snogging in various locations, posted on the internet, but no, it still comes a shock seeing it so public, so sensationalised. It’s a bit different this time around though, because… Well, he knew about these pictures. He made a conscious (if not entirely free-willed) decision to participate in them; he agreed to do this. It’s the park ones, because of course it’s the park ones, and it feels silly now, but somehow he’s already almost forgotten about them; moved on, anxiously waiting for the next problem, the next catastrophe to survive and apprehensively, very unhealthily fixate on.

He scrolls through the article, flustered, a little bit feeling like he would be very grateful if there was a chair underneath him right now.

He ignores everything that’s written, he just concentrates on the pictures, and that’s already more than enough to deal with - he doesn’t need the shitty tabloid narration of their life on top of it all, thank you very much.

On the first picture they are in the queue for the burger stand, waiting for their food, and he’s looking up at Ant with a sweet, loving smile (‘That’s my favourite - it’s like a wedding picture, isn’t it,’ Cat offers with a concerning amount of enthusiasm, from where she’s plastered to Dec’s back now, looking over his shoulder to see the phone.) Dec thinks that the second one is okay, - it’s just them walking next to each other - up until he realises that they are holding hands on it and… okay. So that’s what they look like when they are holding hands. Interesting.

The next one is the first one to feature a kiss and the phone shakes in Dec’s hand for a second. Strangely, with this one, he’s not too concerned about how it looks (apparently it looks ‘very very cute’, according to Cat), but about the fact that they actually have a picture of their first truly free kiss. One for the grandchildren. Or… something like that.

The ones after that feature them on the bench, eating, kissing, then laughing, then kissing some more and oh, here’s the homophobic woman, shit.

Dec scrolls back up to the top though, because he honestly just can’t deal with that right now and… here he is again, smiling at Ant, looking like he’s happy, proud, carefree and very much in love.

‘Weird,’ he says again.

Cat laughs at him, not mockingly so; it sounds soft and bright. ‘When the whole country is talking about you having an affair with your best friend and you go to a park and start snogging him senseless, then there’s absolutely nothing weird about it ending up on the internet.’

‘No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just so weird to see it like that,’ Dec explains. ‘It was a publicity thing that we did,’ he adds at the end, mumbling distractedly, like a non-too-important disclaimer.

‘Yeah, because that looks just like a publicity thing that you did,’ Cat laughs.

Dec just leaves it at that, and he’s not sure why - maybe he’s just tired of explaining something he doesn’t understand himself, maybe he just doesn’t care that much anymore.

‘I’m sorry it came out- The whole thing, I mean… I’m sorry that it came out like that. It’s not fair. You deserved better,’ Cat says then, much more serious, and Dec looks up.

For a moment he doesn’t know what to say, because for the first time someone actually acknowledged this, someone expressed just how wrong this whole situation is, the fact that someone outed them against their will, poking into their personal life uninvited, (not to say that they are not at fault here, but cheating and lying, those are the crimes they are guilty of, and surely, surely the punishment-like attention for being in an affair that happens to be a gay one, while simultaneously being on television is not fair on any level) and it’s quite overwhelming to hear his own thoughts of injustice directly expressed to him.

In the end he just smiles at her gratefully, ‘Thanks.’

‘But you know. That’s just your fabulous showbiz life, isn’t it? Can’t go anywhere without being recognised, you poor souls. Fame, fortune, sex, money, scandals…! Maybe you should murder someone next. Ooh, or better: have a reality show!’ she teases him and Dec can’t help himself but hit her in the shoulder playfully.

‘Shut up.’

‘Ooor, maybe you should make a sex tape. That would sell well. Let me know if you wanted to. I know some people,’ she offers, mock-serious and looking at him with overly-scandalous eyes, but she can’t keep a straight face for long.

‘Oh, shut your face…’ Dec hits her again.

They laugh like they just said goodbye to each other yesterday, after a long morning of doing SM:TV, and it’s refreshing to be able to have fun with someone who’s not Ant. Maybe takes the pressure off their relationship a bit. Maybe Dec needs reminding sometimes that he’s capable of existence without Ant by his side every single minute of the day, so he can cherish the time that they do spend together even more.

It feels good and easy to be with Cat like that, but in a way it’s also nerve-wrecking, because of what Dec knows is coming next. They are at that point in the conversation. And indeed, although Cat is still smiling at him brightly, her voice turns sincere as she asks in a much quieter voice, 'You two okay?'

Dec sighs. He decides, he’s not so much uncomfortable talking about it, as he just doesn’t have the answers. Because the ‘you two okay’ question is way more complicated than it actually appears to be on the surface. Are they? Dec wants to think so, but he had just one too many panicky breakdowns in various bathrooms over the last couple of days to be able to say that they are with complete certainty. So many things have gone wrong today already and it’s not even show time.

'Yeah,’ he says, but his voice doesn’t come out right. He clears his throat. ‘Getting there,' is what he eventually manages, because he doesn’t want to sound bitter, he doesn’t want to appear as morbidly fed up as he actually feels.

Cat however is not the type of person who is satisfied with that kind of answer, and actually, wow, how could Dec even think that she was going to just let it go that easily? They really do need to meet up more often.

‘So… hang on, you are in a relationship then?' she presses, somehow making it sound like it’s the least intrusive question ever.

Dec still doesn’t have the answers however, no matter how relentless or good at this Cat is, so he goes for something light-hearted. 'Well, everyone seems to think so,' he says dismissively, not looking her in the eye.

'What kind of answer is that?' she asks with furrowed eyebrows, but also like she’s worried that she’s gone just a bit too far this time.

Dec sighs, more just frustrated with himself than anything anything else, really. 'The I don't know kind. It's just… this whole talking about things is pretty new to me, sorry. I mean…’ he trails off. ‘It's like no one's surprised. Like people were expecting it,’ it almost explodes out of him, the words coming quick and loud; this has been bothering him for a while now. ‘Like everyone fucking secretly knew about it like…!’

There is a moment of silence and Cat is looking at him with this very very patient expression on her face, like she’s waiting for him to realise something, like she wants him to figure it out on his own.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Dec curses when he finally understands. ‘I give up,’ he says, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I fucking give up. Why is it even such a big deal if every person on this bloody planet knew about it, huh? Why? If this is not even new information to anyone, why does it still make the front page of every shitty tabloid in this stupid country like? Aren’t people more interested in… I don’t know, Posh and Becks, or something?!’

Cat laughs at him, but she’s rubbing at his shoulder comfortingly. She leans over the counter then, rummaging for a bit, then turning back towards Dec with a plastic teaspoon.

‘Well, not everyone knew about it,’ she says consolingly, fishing out the teabags from both of the teas that Dec has already completely forgotten about. She dumps them unceremoniously on top a single napkin, drenching the whole counter immediately and looking like she couldn’t care less. She puts down the spoon and looks into Dec’s face with a part-apologetic, part-pleading expression. ‘But, I mean - and I’m only speaking for myself here -, if you think about it, you were never really careful about it when it was just the three of us, so I just assumed you thought that I knew, and I mean, it wasn't exactly a big deal, so…'

Dec lets out a disbelieving little laugh. 'Ant was with Lisa though. I was dating Clare-'

Cat holds up a hand, before he could go any further than that. ‘I’m not saying I understood exactly what was going on, Dec, but you know... It’s the two of you. It’s just your thing,’ she explains easily.

‘Our thing,’ Dec repeats incredulously.

‘Well, yeah,’ she grins at him bright and happy, stunning Dec into silence for a moment.

‘I feel like I have to go now and re-evaluate my life,’ he deadpans finally and Cat laughs warmly.

‘Better now than never,’ she says. Cheeky. ‘Where’s your loved up other half, then?’

‘Dressing room,’ Dec replies, only bothering to roll his eyes at that, and well, okay, maybe he understands why so many people have always taken this for granted - they never exactly discouraged the notion that there was something between them deeper than friendship. But it never really bothered him, he was never really iffy about assumptions like that. If that’s even possible, he was always sort of clear on where he stood: pretty much very into blonde girls, but kind of also very much happily attached to Ant in every way possible. A bit of teasing about their closeness was always welcome, met with a slightly embarrassed, but mostly proudly possessive smile or a funnier counter-joke. It never even occurred to either of them to get prissy about it, especially because most of it was… well, true.

‘We still have a bit of time, I think, if you wanna come, see him before the show?’ he suggests, looking at his watch. He grabs both teas when Cat nods and starts making his way out of the green room with her close behind.

‘Oh yeah, how’s the show going?’ Cat asks as they walk down a corridor, seemingly having realised that for now, she’s not going to get anything more specific out of him, relationship-wise.

‘Well, you know…’ Dec shrugs. ‘It’s okay, I think. It’s one big gay joke, the whole thing, with loads of embarrassing bits and making fun of ourselves, but we never had too much dignity anyway.’

‘So you’re acknowledging it,’ she nods seriously.

‘We can’t just ignore it, to be fair,’ he smiles back tepidly.

Cat shakes her head. ‘I know plenty of people who would. And you have to give yourself credit when you’re doing something right.’

‘Hah, yeah, because doing something right is exactly what this is. Forced out of the closet and we are gracious enough to acknowledge it. Well done us!’

They are suddenly stopped when they get to the next turn - a couple of stage-hands seemingly have tried to move a large piece of the stage set through the corridors, but now it’s stuck. Dec is assured by several people rapidly that the issue is going to be solved any minute now, but he just raises his eyebrows at them, like he couldn’t be less fazed by this catastrophic turn of events and leans on a wall casually, continuing his conversation with Cat, waiting to be able to get through.

‘You see, a tiny part of me thought, you two put the picture out,’ Cat says in a way that’s almost outrageously shy, especially coming from her.

‘What, that we did this whole thing on purpose?’ Dec asks back, definitely not as outraged as he perhaps would have been a day, maybe even hours ago.

She nods silently.

‘You’re not the first person to accuse me of that today,’ Dec remarks, surprised to detect humour in his own voice. ‘Ant and you should really make a Facebook group for that or something.’

He laughs, but Cat just gapes at him. ‘Wait, he said what?’

Dec sighs again. ‘I don’t know, Cat,’ he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. There are quite a few people mulling around now, waiting for the corridor to be free to walk again, but the casual chatting of people and the shouts of the stage-hands make enough noise for Dec to deem it a safe environment to have this conversation in. He’s at a point where he doesn’t care much anyway, to be fair.

‘At first it was just that we reacted really differently,’ he starts explaining it, from the start, from the beginning, like he never had a chance to do so with his Mam, like he felt too awkward to with Ali, and too uncomfortable with his sister. ‘He automatically tried to defend what they had with Lisa, which is fair enough, but for me, it was all about finally doing what we should have done ten years ago. Being honest about it. I guess,’ he chuckles, realising the irony of it just now, ‘I reacted like everyone else, assuming that we’d be together now that’s it out, just taking it for granted.

‘But then he broke up with Lise, but decided not to tell me, so I could choose to leave him if I wanted to apparently, or… whatever the fuck that was about,’ he looks at Cat here significantly, with a “can you believe how stupid and annoying he is” kind of look, and when Cat laughs (surprised a little, but indulging) it feels like the best thing in the whole wide world.

‘And well, I’m definitely not with Ali, but it’s just… well, there were some trust-’ Dec stops himself before he could say “issues”. ‘There were some trust things… On my part, mainly. And maybe that’s why he seems to think that it’s like honesty hour now or something, because he keeps coming up with all these things that he never told me and I just… fuck, I wish we could just… Stop time or something. Call half-time. Because we have no idea how to handle any of this fucked up thing and we… put these people through this thing, this sick thing, for… for years! I mean, Mam’s not talking to me, Lisa is fucking heartbroken, but like, still taking it in her stride, Ali is fucking amazing, doing the manager things, and… fuck, there’s Clare and Georgie and so many other people that we just… fucked. And for what? So we can shag each other? It’s like I never even realised how stupid this whole thing…’ his rant stops suddenly and abruptly, with him having to take an almost unexpected breath out of nowhere, but then he shrugs and lets out an indignant little huff, not bothering to finish his sentence.

‘You’re actually fighting?’ Cat asks into the silence, her eyes a very deep brown.

‘I guess, we finally got to the point of breaking. We always said, it’d happen one day and it wasn’t healthy that we never fought.’ Dec suddenly wonders for a second if it was actually them who always said this, or if it was just one of them, and if yes, which one. He shakes his head, letting go of this pointless thought.

‘It wasn’t just shagging though, Dec. You are in love. You can’t control that,’ Cat says quietly, reminding Dec of a negotiator trying to talk someone off a roof, someone who’s very determined to jump.

‘Well, fuck. I don’t know what the right answer is or what we should have-’ a sudden picture-perfect memory startles him into silence. An echoing church corridor, eight or so years ago, him running, trying to comprehend what’s just happened, trying not to throw up, just running and running, like the coward he is, the fucking mess that he was that day. But, no. He did the right thing. Or… did he? Wasn’t it always going to end like this, out in the open? Didn’t he just postpone the inevitable by not doing what he was prepared to finally go through with that day? ‘We are still responsible for all of this,’ he says gravely after a while, after collecting himself a bit.

‘I wasn’t expecting you to be fighting though,’ Cat says, sort of just thinking aloud.

‘Neither did we,’ Dec replies, grimacing. ‘We ran out of secrets today though, I think,’ he adds, almost like an after-thought, not sounding as hopeful as he’d like. ‘Don’t look at us like that,’ he asks Cat pleadingly when she stares at him, looking a bit like she’s never seen him in her life.

‘Sorry,’ she says, catching herself. ‘I- I guess, I just thought, you would be more…’

‘Prepared for something like this?’ Dec finishes her sentence, laughing humourlessly. ‘Yeah, no, ‘cos, we’re idiots like. But I think for Ant it was way easier to get over all this. It’s like he jumped from this is not serious, it’s never been, to this place where he’s just incredibly comfortable with everything and… I guess, this is what I always wanted and now I know this, but I was just so fucking afraid that I never admitted it to myself and I’m still pretty much just scared shitless,’ he concludes. ‘Well. That’s where we are right now. That’s what I mean by I don’t know.’

Cat seems to think about it for a moment, taking it all in, processing, then - looking as enlightened as it goes - she says, ‘You’ve been struggling with this for a lifetime, Decs. You had way too much time to think about it and make up all these problems in your head, whether they are real or not. You just have more to get through than he does,’ she says and Dec is a bit taken aback by how it’s actual sensible advise, even if it can just be translated into a simple “give it time”. ‘Like the wedding thing?’ Cat adds tentatively and oh, fuck.

‘Shit. I forgot you knew about that,’ Dec shakes his head, pointedly staring at his shoes. The pain he expects from the mention of the wedding doesn’t come this time (maybe he’s exhausted his quota for the day or it’s too soon, from a moment ago when he thought about it, to hurt properly again), and that’s unusual, but he does feel more embarrassed than he has in a long while, and that’s really something, considering he just had several close-up pictures of snogging Ant’s face off exposed to, and tabloid-pushed-down-the-throats of, most of the country’s population.

‘I was there,’ Cat says significantly. ‘I don’t just know about it, I fucking saw it happen.’

Dec is infinitely thankful for the distraction of someone coming up to him, saying that the set piece really is stuck and maybe they are better off choosing a different route and just going the long way around, so the wedding topic is left well and alone. Dec exchanges pleasantries about this overall quite sitcom-humorous turn of events with the person and (‘They were not supposed to move it through here, but a couple of the new guys didn’t know,’ he explains to Cat) turns around to walk back the way they came from.

‘So… I mean, I just assumed that you’re like together, especially after the pictures, but now I’m… not so sure?’ Cat continues her probing, and despite his general and automatic annoyance by this line of questioning, Dec finds that it’s really nice to complain to someone about all this.

‘Yeah. Yeah? Maybe. Probably.’ Dec shoots her a painful smile when he realises how stupid that sounded. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Have you talked about it?’ she asks, laughing a little, as they turn onto another corridor.

‘We… sort of did,’ Dec confirms, but then he goes off-topic, his thoughts racing too fast for him to make them coherent enough to even just stop himself from casually blurting them out. ‘Today he said I love you to me in the most casual way and I said it back without even thinking about it and I feel like… It doesn’t feel like a normal relationship, like we didn’t have any of those moments, like we never even had a first date like, but I feel like I’ve been dating him since I was twenty or something – how is that right?’ he asks, feeling every bit as pathetic as he know he must sound.

‘It can’t be right just because it’s not usual?’ Cat asks back wonderingly, for some reason still humouring Dec. ‘Okay, so you didn’t have a traditional I love you moment, so what?’ (Dec opens his mouth here, because while they might not have had a so-to-speak “traditional” I love you moment - and Ant might stupidly deny that that was their first one on top of that -, it was still pretty romcom-like, thank you very much, involving some leftover curry, crap telly and Peter Andre being their upstairs neighbour playing a weirdly significant role in all of it, but then he thinks better of it and just lets Cat continue without interrupting). ‘You have other things. You have a kind of connection that most people wouldn’t ever dare dream of…’

‘I guess so,’ Dec says awkwardly. He still finds it incredibly strange how other people perceive their relationship, how other people consider his day-to-day normal to be unique and special. Not to say, he’s not aware of how lucky he is to have found Ant, it’s just…

He stops at a door leading to a set of service stairs, holds it open for Cat, lets her grab onto his arm as she - surprisingly elegantly - struggles down them in her heels. ‘It’s just confusing and I feel like I can’t figure it out - any of it,’ he says finally. ‘And there’s just so much pressure from everywhere to do the right thing and be so many things and it’s bloody all over the papers like and…’

‘I really didn’t expect you to be this hesitant about this,’ Cat says earnestly, stopping for a moment.

Dec looks at her. Then with new-found energy, ‘I mean just because it’s supposed to work, just because it’s us, it doesn’t mean that it actually will. We’re just jumping into it and there’s no time to adjust, not like when you’re actually dating someone, to get used to them, to figure out their habits and-‘

‘But, Dec…’ she interrupts him, sounding astonished. ‘You don’t need to do that,’ she laughs incredulously, shaking her head.

He looks at her, a bit frustrated, waiting for her to explain.

‘You know all this. Yeah, this might be an issue for other people who get together like this, from an affair or whatever, and yeah, it might be an adjustment, a hard one, but the pair of you are…’ she laughs again, almost fondly, ‘…strange and weird and… just think it through! You know what’s it like to live with him. You see each other every single day. You know his habits, you know what he does first thing in the morning, you know how he takes his coffee, you have shared a bathroom together, you do actually go shopping together. Dec, you have a joint twitter account for god's sake,' she finishes, looking like she’s clearly just won this whole thing altogether.

Dec opens his mouth to snarl back at her, but then he realises, he’s not sure what to say. After a while he just puts a hand on her lower back to usher her forwards and in the right direction. They don’t say much of anything for the rest of the way; Dec deep in his thoughts, Cat clicking with her heels like she’s the queen of the universe or something and she just solved Dec’s every problem single-handedly.

Well, Dec thinks with a wry smile, as he hands her the teas so he can open his dressing room door. Maybe she is. And maybe she didn’t exactly solve everything, but. This is definitely a start, or… maybe even a clear sighting of a finish line that, until a minute ago, Dec wasn’t even sure - couldn’t possibly hope! - existed.

chapter 30

[join-the-joywrite]

Women in War -- 13

All Maggie Maravillla ever wanted was to help people. She never imagined losing damn near everything when winning a war.

WiW masterpost

Chapter 13

February, 1946

"Olivier! We're going to be late!"

"I'm coming!"

Maggie sighed. "We're going to come back in two weeks! What are you packing?"

"Necessities!"

"You do this every time we visit Brooklyn!"

"J'arrive, j'arrive! Calmez-vous!"

Maggie sighed again. She glanced at the frame above the mantle. Months ago, she'd gotten the sketch coloured in. The original was folded up and jumped from pocket to pocket of the clothing Maggie wore.

"I can't believe you left me alone with the kid," she told the photo, "he's driving me nuts."

"I'm not driving you anywhere," Olivier said as he walked in with a crate. The white mass inside hissed and clawed at the bars.

"Oh, that necessity. Hello, Alpine, did you bite Olivier?"

"Not today, surprisingly. Come on, we're late."

"Excuse me, hijo!" Maggie yelled, following him out of the apartment, "you're the one who took two hours to lock the cat up!"

"You could've helped, Mags."

"You never asked! I didn't even know you were bringing him along!"

"Mags. Alpine is your cat."

Maggie scoffed as she locked the door. "He's a bitch."

Olivier sighed. "Will you at least carry the crate?"

"Fine."

///////////////

Maggie was thrilled to see who had come to get them from Howard's private airstrip. The man got richer and richer everyday.

"Becky!"

Becky squealed and hugged Maggie.

"Did you bring the bitch?"

"Yeah, Olivier is here."

"She meant the cat, Maggie."

Becky grinned and leaned down while Maggie lifted the crate. "Hey, Alpine! How was the flight, little bitch?"

Alpine hissed at Becky.

"Wow, he actually responded to you," Maggie said with a laugh. "How bout that?"

"The bitch loves me. This is my peak. I will never rise further."

"Or maybe he wants to kill you," Maggie said, passing the crate to Becky and taking her bag from Olivier. "I wouldn't be surprised if Alpine started an uprising and won."

Becky lifted the crate and tapped the gate with her pastel nails. "You're not gonna start an uprising, are you, Alpine?"

"Pretty ring," Olivier commented, nodding to Becky's hand, "mean something?"

Becky smiled. "That Howard is trying very hard with this relationship thing and is failing adorably. He says it was a birthday present, but I know he's just trying to work up the gall for it."

"You wearing it there to ease him into proposing, aren't you?"

"Maggie Maravilla, always knowing what goes on in my head. Come on, Howard's driving us to mom's place."

Maggie smiled and rolled her eyes, nodding for Olivier to follow Becky back to the manor.

///////////////

"On this incredibly sad day," Maggie said at the table, "I would like to pop a bottle of champagne in honour of one dumbass Bucky Barnes whom I love very much, but who also would throw a temper tantrum if we cried. Seeing as Olivier is only nineteen, he gets to make sure we don't give ourselves alcohol poisoning. In two weeks we take several vodka shots because as much as I love Steve, he was a bigger dumbass with a ridiculously large need to be the hero."

Evelyn laughed first. "You sound like him," she said softly.

"Good. So, who wants--?" The knocking at the front door cut Maggie off. Hugo stood up. "I'll get it, papá," Maggie said, leaving with the bottle still in her hand.

"Are we sure Maggie's okay?" Winnifred asked, slightly concerned.

Alice nodded. "Maggie used to always say that if we don't laugh, we cry. If we cry, we don't see any good things. Maybe she learned to listen to herself."

Maggie opened the door with a smile. "Hello and welcome to the first anniversary of. . ."

"Hi. I'm sorry, I think I've got the wrong house. I'm looking for the Ba--"

"Steve?" Maggie whispered, otherwise frozen.

"Who is it, Mags?" Howard called.

"Sorry, do . . . do I know you?"

The bottle slipped from her hand. Still, she didn't move.

"I got it," Howard said, getting up from the table as soon as they heard the crash. "Oh, Mags, look at this mess. Come on, hop over here. Who's at the. . ."

Steve's eyebrows lifted. "Mr Stark? What are you doing here?"

"Mr Stark?" Howard echoed, wondering when Steve had become so formal. Unlike Maggie, he still hadn't grasped the fact that a dead man stood in their doorway.

"We buried you," Maggie whispered, her grip on the door handle tightening. "I watched them bury you."

"I. . ." Steve laughed nervously. Maggie noticed that he looked a bit older than she remembered. "I'm sorry. Have we met somewhere?"

"Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for Peggy -- Peggy C--"

"I know who Peggy is. What do you want?"

"I . . . I wanted to see her. I didn't know where else to go looking."

Howard tiptoed over the broken glass and took hold of Maggie's hand, gently tugging away from the door. "You're going to break something, Mags. Come on." He gently nudged Maggie in the direction of the kitchen. "You wait here," he told Steve.

"Who is it?" Peggy asked.

"It -- it's Steve."

"It's who?!"

"Peggy, wait!"

Howard shoved Maggie in Becky's direction and went after Peggy. He found her standing exactly where Maggie had been, although with a much softer expression on her face. "Peg?"

"You're not Steve," Peggy whispered.

Howard turned her to face him. "Peg, why don't you and Mags get something to clean this up with, hmm? We can't have the cat scratching himself on the glass."

"Yes, the poor dear."

Once Peggy was gone, Howard stepped over the glass and closed the front door behind him.

"I got nothing, pal."

"Okay, I know this is gonna sound crazy, Mr Stark--"

"Nothing can be crazier than you coming back from certain death," Howard drawled, eyebrows raised. "Trust me."

"No, that's the thing. I never died in the crash. I survived and ended up frozen in the ice and now, eleven years after they fou--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, pal. When Mags said we buried you, she didn't mean we had an empty coffin and buried that. No, we buried you. We pulled you and Becky out of that ocean and we brought your body back here and we buried you right next to Buck. You. Died."

Steve paused. "Who's Mags?"

"Who's-- she's-- how could you forget her? Peggy was right. You're not Steve."

"I am, though. We met in 1943--"

"1940, actually. It was November. You caught a cold and I kissed your best friend's sister nine days later."

"Wait, what?"

"Why don't you just tell me who you really are and what you want here?"

"I'm telling the truth. My name is Steve Rogers. I was born in 1918. My best friend's name is Bucky Barnes. You gave me a shield made from Vibranium. We took the fight to Schmidt and I crashed that plane into the water. What more do you want from me?"

"You're unbelievable. How can you forget everything Mags and Beck have done for you? With you? How can you stand there and list off these things you've done without even mentioning them? Maggie's saved your life more than once! From what I've heard, she's been doing it since you were twelve, she and Beck and Bucky. You owe this super strength to Maggie. Without her, Erskine would have taken years to perfect the serum and you would have probably never made it to Project Rebirth."

"Look, Howard, I'm telling you. I don't know any Maggie. And Beck? You talking about Bucky's sister? Rebecca? As far as I know, she got married in 1941."

Howard glanced down. "Maybe you are Steve. But you're not our Steve. Our Steve would never forget Maggie Maravilla -- even if he wanted to."

"Oh," Steve said, suddenly looking like he understood everything.

"What?" Howard asked, looking up again.

"Theres this kid I know -- very science-y -- kept going on about some multiverse thing to distract himself. I think -- I think he was right. See, I'm from seventy-eight years in the future. But I'm beginning to wonder if I jumped through one of the tips in the universe."

Howard folded his arms. "You know, that would explain so much-- no, that would explain everything. Obviously, you can't stay. Who knows what the complications will be. Still, I suppose now that she's seen you, Pegs'll want to talk to you. But this is actually believable. It would explain why you don't know Maggie, how you're alive, and why you look like you've seen hell."

"Oh, I have." 

Howard went on as if Steve hadn't even opened his mouth. "But if you're from the future, then wouldn't you being here and interacting with people change it? Of course not! If there are a number of universes, then it's likely that it was always meant to happen that you would jump from your universe to our universe, which means your present won't change because you're not affecting your past. But what if you succeeded in travelling back down your own timeline? What would interacting with yourself bring? Pocket universes? Alternate versions of the future? Implying that your own timeline remains intact, but each choice you make in your past creates a new timeline where that version's future is different to your own. Why are you here?"

"What?"

"Why not visit the Peggy in your own timeline? In your own universe? Why come here, one year after your actual death?"

"Look, I didn't mean to come here. I meant to go back, not jump through universes or whatever you just said. All I wanted was to see Peggy one more time before we destroyed the machine. I never meant to stay, of course. I know that I have to go back, to my time, to the new friends that found me, to Bucky, and to face what I've lost--"

"Bucky's alive?"

Howard glanced back to see Maggie slowly opening the door fully. "Mags."

Now, as she stepped out of the house, Steve really looked at her. She looked dressed for an event of some kind. Her dress was clearly old and worn, but she had also taken good care of it. Steve wondered if it was special to her. For the first time, he noticed the chain around her neck. He followed the chain down, almost hidden by the bright yellow it rested on, to the tags at the end.

"No," Howard said, "well, yes, but not our Bucky. Not your Bucky. See, this is Steve, but he's not--"

"Are those his?" Steve asked, nodding to the chain. "Bucky's?"

Maggie nodded. "He gave them to Beck to give to me if he . . . guess he knew I'd do everything I could and more to keep him safe if I knew he thought there was a chance he wouldn't come back."

"How . . . how did he die here?"

"He fell off a train in the Alps. Part of me wonders if he would have survived if he'd only had himself to worry about. I fell with him. I'm alive because he broke the fall and . . . and he died."

"It's not your fault, Mags," Howard said softly.

"I know. But knowing it doesn't stop me from feeling it." She smiled bitterly at Howard before turning to Steve. "Is there any way I could see him? I just . . . there's a version of him that survived and I just want to see him again."

"That's not a good idea, Mags. We don't know anything about the kind of travel Steve's using. What if this doorway closes? What if you get stuck there? What if you and Steve get stuck in universes you don't belong in?"

Maggie shrugged. "It'd be worth it."

"You really loved him, huh?"

"Just because he's not here anymore, doesn't mean I stopped loving him."

"I'm sorry."

Maggie shrugged, fiddling with the tags around her neck. "It's not your fault. What's he like? Where you're from?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, a little broken, truth be told. He's . . . he's finding himself all over again."

Maggie turned to Howard. "Is there nothing you can do? Please, I just want to see him. I just want the same thing Steve came here for. I don't even need to speak to him. I just. . ."

"I know, Mags, but there's no guarantee you'd even make it there. What if you get stuck somewhere -- some-when -- else? What if you can't come home?"

"Howard's right, Mags."

Maggie lifted her gaze as Becky stepped out of the house too. She smiled sadly and rubbed Maggie's shoulders. "I want to go too, you know that, but I know it's not safe."

"I can get you there," Steve said, "but coming back is uncertain. I came here by mistake. There's no way to be sure you'd make it back."

Both turned to look at Howard, who sighed. "I'll think about it. I said think! If I can't be sure you're coming back, you can't go. Understood?"

Becky let go of Maggie to hug Howard. "Thank you."

///////////////

Maggie sat at the cleared table, drumming her fingers against the dark oak.

"What happens if Howard gets it right and we go?"

Maggie shrugged. "Steve said that if we went, we would reappear where he left. I assume that means the platform thing he was talking about. I assume that also means he's going to be waiting for Steve. Which means we will have to talk to them. Explain it all. Then . . . then we come back."

Becky nodded. "Right, but what if something goes wrong and we can't come back?"

Maggie shrugged again. "Beck, I know you have Howard here and your sisters and parents, but this is a risk I'm willing to take. If you're afraid of what's going to happen, you can stay. I can promise you that any version of Bucky would understand."

"No. I have to come with you. He's my brother. It's just . . . one of those things we gotta do, right?"

"Mm. How's Pegs?"

"She's with Steve. Talking. Asking him what she went on to do, what he did after they pulled him from the ice. She's jumping on her curiosity because otherwise she'd cave for him."

"I don't blame her," Maggie murmured. "Listen, if we get stuck. . ."

"Mags. I'm choosing to go with you. I'm choosing to take this risk. I wouldn't blame anyone but myself."

"What if Howard can't find a way to secure our trip back? Would you still go?"

Becky shrugged and sat down across Maggie. "He's my brother. Even if he's not the same one, he's still my brother."

Maggie nodded slowly. "You know that he won't recognise you."

"True, but do you know that he won't even know you?"

"I know. I still think it'll be worth it."

"Okay, Mags. If you're sure."

It was three days later when Howard came to a conclusion. They stood in the kitchen of the Barnes home, around the island counter. Steve was back in the uniform he'd been wearing when he arrived. Maggie and Becky were both in their army-issued uniform.

"We don't have the kind of technology to navigate an interdimensional space-time wormhole and by the time we do create it, the wormhole could close."

"How long would it take?" Becky asked.

Howard shrugged. "Years, probably. I'm sorry, ladies, I--"

"I'd still like to go," Maggie said, looking up. She turned to Steve. "If you're willing to take the risk that neither of us could be able to return."

Steve glanced at Howard, Becky and Peggy. "I . . . I don't know."

Howard slowly nodded at Becky, who offered him a small smile. "I'd still go with you, Mags."

Steve glanced at Howard. "You know, you can't travel through without the quantum suit. The force would tear you apart."

"So that means only one of them can go?"

"No. Bruce sent me back with two spare sets -- just in case. It means you can go with her."

Howard frowned for a second. "Beck, I need to talk to you for a minute."

Leaving Steve to explain the mechanics of travel to Maggie, Becky followed Howard outside.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't come with you," Howard blurted.

Becky laughed nervously. "Why not?"

Howard nodded towards a lonely figure heading away from his car.

"Isn't that Olivier? He said he was going to plant some flowers for Steve like he did for Bucky."

Howard nodded. "If you and Mags get stuck, kid's got no one. She's all he has."

Becky bit her lip. "You're sending him with us instead?"

Howard shrugged. "I'm sorry, Becky, but I know what it's like to lose everyone close to me. I almost lost both you and Maggie on the same day. I can't do that to him."

Becky sighed. "I . . . you're a good person, Howard, despite what the papers say about you."

Howard smiled. "I'm gonna miss you, Beck."

"It'll be okay, Howard. We'll try to come back, I promise. But know that if I don't, I will always love you."

Howard smiled. "I know, doll. I know."

///////////////

"If we get stuck," Becky said, narrowing her eyes at Steve before glancing at Peggy beside him, "you take damn good care of Peggy, okay?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Yes, ma'am."

Becky turned to Maggie. "Ready?"

"One second. Olivier, hold still! Voulez-vous être déchiré en lambeaux?"

"Non! Je peux le faire moi-même, maman!"

Just like every odd time it happened, both pretended that Olivier hadn't just called Maggie 'mom'.

"We're ready."

"Okay, sync up," Steve said, "make sure you all have the same data input."

"On three?" Maggie asked.

Becky took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, one."

"Two," Olivier said.

"Th--"

"Wait!" Becky cried. Maggie paused with her hand over the button. She smiled as Becky grabbed Howard by his shirt and kissed him. "Bye," she whispered quickly.

The trio vanished in a flash. Howard's smile vanished just as fast.

"How long until we know they're coming back or stuck?" Peggy asked.

Howard left his lab.

Steve held out his hand for her. "Howard and I gave them co-ordinates down to the second for about a minute before they left. If they could have returned, they would have been able to watch themselves leave."

Peggy titled her head as she took hold of Steve's hand. "So . . . that means they're stuck?"

Steve shrugged. "It looks like it."

"Oh, Howard," Peggy whispered, glancing at the door.

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