#my teeth are rotting and my body feels ill and my mind is clearly going

[carnage-cathedral]

genuinely convinced that this house is sucking the life out of me in order to power the christmas decorations

[keilemlucent]

(nsfw) ✧ (dark content warnings) ✧  (minors do not interact) 

hawks | takami keigo x reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere, vomit due to illness, delusion, reader is definitely not mentally well, brief description of injury, hawks is Not nice in this, reader has difficulty eating, 

a/n: uhhh it’s 2am, time to post dark drabble lol!! i love like.... deep yandere stuff. when darling’s already been In It for awhile and worn down. mwah. chefs. kiss. anyways, here’s my take!

You want to know what rain tastes like.

Is it different than water from the tap? You had asked him one day. He chuckled but didn’t give you an answer. Just an easy deflection, something unrelated to pull your mind from the outside. 

It is easier this way. 

It’s so much easier to draw the curtains in the morning. Damn the sun, damn the light— You can take vitamin D supplements and pretend you don’t mind how dark the apartment is no matter the time of day.

It’s easier to ignore the multiple locks (seven. you count them sometimes to pass the time) that are bolted into the door. The time it takes him to open them with all their tumbling gears and thundering clicks is the preamble to his comings and goings.

You know to rise from your damn-near sacred spot on the couch to greet him. You go to him with a kiss on his cheek, and to give him hug so hard, it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s from the strain of your arms around his, or the pressure of his embrace around you. You don’t particularly mind either way. It’s the reminder you need that as empty and dark as the apartment is, he’ll always return.

Always.

You lock your hands behind his back, clasped below his wings. Routinely, you bury your face in his chest while he sways you. He asks about your day, but he isn’t listening. You don’t think so, but you don’t mind. Nothing you say means much, and every day is the same. You sit on the couch and stare at the floor. The walls. The ceiling if you’re feeling more adventurous.  

You stopped watching TV alone months ago. No matter what you watched on Keigo’s big, sleek television, it was just a reminder. An awful, unavoidable reminder that the world is quite large, and you weren’t apart of it.

You couldn’t be. You were locked in place— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven — in the little apartment. Wasting away, as much as you tried not to.

...

“You need to eat, baby,” Keigo coax. He holds a deep spoonful of soup to your lips. It smells divine, like chives and cream. “Just a little. For me?”

‘For me.’

Your inability to stomach anything is his problem, just as much as it is yours. That’s just a fact.

“I don’t want to get sick again,” You squeeze your hands. There is a semblance of comfort in the action as Keigo inspects you. Searching.

It isn’t a lie. Your stomach growls and rolls, and it has been all day. Keigo has started to always leave ample leftovers in the fridge in the case you’d actually want to eat them. And you do. Sometimes, you even try! Really try. But the end result is always the same. Your head ends up dangling over the bowl of your toilet while you wretch and writhe. 

Acid stings your throat for hours. 

Despite Keigo’s... previous treatment, he seems genuinely concerned about this development. You’re hardly able to keep anything down, despite being well otherwise.

(You’re so unwell and have been for so long, he can’t begin to see it. The bruises are perpetual. The scars that you didn’t have a year ago are fixtures he can’t remember you without. The constant tremble you carry is from the drafty apartment, not from the deeply instilled fear you carry. The one he had branded (literally) onto you. Into you.)

(Fucker.)

You shake the thought off and open your mouth and accept the bite. And Keigo, bless his heart, is sweet enough to not shove the spoon to the back of your throat. He lets you suck the soup from it, quietly praising your work.

You manage to eat half the bowl before shaking your head, tummy already twisting in the worst, most familiar way.

Keigo gives you pills then. Four of them, all slightly different colors and shapes. You don’t know what they do, and you knew better than to ask (you’d gotten slapped across the face the first and only time you tried.) 

The fourth pill is new, and Keigo, graciously, tells you that it’s for the nausea. That a special doctor is helping him help you. Isn’t that wonderful?

You’re so, so lucky.

 (You hurl the next morning once the meds wear off. Your hands shake and your slam your fist into your temples. Begging. You’re not sure to who. Maybe to yourself. Your body. Crying for your wretched form to just stop hurting you. If you weren’t sick, things would be better.

Maybe, you’re begging Keigo. For help. To make it stop. To take care of you and coo that things will be fine as things are so completely not find that you can’t comprehend it. But he is the one who decides when you hurt. Shouldn’t he be able to make this stop?

Maybe you’re begging him to unlatch those — one, two, three, four, five, six— seven locks so you could dash into the world. Scream at the first person you see that beloved, pro-hero Hawks is so beyond deranged and fucked up. Maybe no civilian would believe you. But you were the evidence. You bore the slashes of his feathers. The perpetual imprint of his fingers on hips and thighs. You even had a brand on the bottom of your foot. K-E-I-G-O.

Maybe, you’re begging to whatever god you once believed in to kill you. You don’t care about the means. Be it your hand, or Keigo’s, or random chance.)

 You spew into the murky water and try to forget.

...

Keigo’s special doctor comes by. You see the two exchange hands by the door when she first arrives. A flash of bills and coins. Paid off, part of you perks up. The doctor won’t talk about Hawks’ little captive. You’re sure it’s a handsome amount, based on the neutrality of her expression as she takes you in.

To care so little about something like you is hardly a surprise.

She examines you, collects some blood and other samples. Prescribes a few more medicines that have long and complicated names that are hard to pronounce. You try to forget them. You’re happy to be quiet. Sit next to Keigo while he wraps a wing around you and rubs your back in little circles. He’s warm and good, unlike the rot in your stomach.

 Keigo praises you once she leaves, wrapping you up in him, scarlet feathers and all. Kisses your cheeks, telling you how well you did. How you didn’t falter, didn’t scream, didn’t let her touch you too much. How you were so perfect for him. You deserve a reward! 

He treats you to fresh sheets and more kisses. The kind that feels like how lovers are supposed to kiss. There isn’t too much teeth or tongue, just slow, open-mouthed pressing that makes your tummy flutter in a good way (for once.)

“Isn’t this nice?” Keigo hums against your lips. 

You nod, barely eager but not apprehensive either. Treading lightly on a carefully, self-cultivated path between wanting and revulsion. As good as it feels, you don’t want to give him. You don’t remember how.

His lips trail to your neck, to your collarbones. He pushes up your shirt and only leaves little pecks over your nipples and chest. No wounds that draw blood. No hickeys that last weeks. 

You don’t realize you start trembling until Keigo has to grip your inner thighs to still you. So, he can coo blessed, little reminders.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I always make you feel so good.”

“You deserve this, all of this,” he says before pressing his lips to your clit. You’re just wet enough for him to fuck you on his fingers. Enough that when he bullies the bundle of nerves inside you, you coat his fingers in slick and whine. Your voice breaks, over and over, and little, unwanted tears leak into your hairline.

Keigo ignores them as usual. You can be so dramatic.

And Keigo, ever gracious, let’s you shatter on his fingers. Doesn’t make you beg, just whispered hushed adorations as you come undone on his tongue. He hardly toys with you after, and instead lets you fall into the sheets. Properly spend, though not exhausted.

You still shake, but that’s okay. It’s manageable.

Keigo cleans you up with a silken cloth. He wipes between the swell of your breasts, down your navel and to your cunt. His feathers ruffle as he does his work, clearly focused. There’s no speaking during it, only watching and observing.

“Thank you.” You speak without prompting. 

Your words are dry and underused. Your lips feel chapped, and your vision is hazy in the dark of the bedroom. 

Keigo gives you a smile (full of white-hot pride), clicking his tongue, “Of course, dovey. You deserve to feel good for me. I want you to. I like you like this.”

(He carries that same sentiment that no matter your ‘post-fuck’ state. Whether you’re twitching and dumb from overstimulation. Whether you’re bawling from pain and holding your hand over a too deep, ‘accidental’ wound. Whether your expression is blank, lips ajar, and face tilted to the ceiling.)

You can only agree with him.

What other option do you have?

...

(The doctor calls the following week. Keigo speaks to her in hushed tones from his office, muffled and stern. You only catch pieces of it.

“They do not appear to be suffering from anything specific illness.” The doctor pauses. “The weakness, fatigue, shakiness, forgetfulness, and nausea all seem to be tied back to prolonged anxiety. Constant surges of adrenaline that have pushed them to this point.”

Keigo doesn’t bother asking the source.

He knows it.

(And honestly? He seems a little proud.)

 You return to settle on the couch. Ever practiced, you turn towards the door and find the locks.

One, two, three four—

That four one wouldn’t be too hard to pick, would it?

(You’d already tried months ago. It was just a chain lock, but Keigo had nearly snapped your wrist when he caught you trying to tamper with it.)

Five, six, seven—

Your stomach rolls and your hug your knees, still managing a smile when Keigo rejoins you. His wings flex, and he flashes you a golden smile. His phone is locked and in his hand, and you know he’ll ignore it for the night. He’ll wrap you in his arms and smother you with his wings.

It’s better this way, you remind yourself, turning from the locks.

[secretbangtnn]

summary : Getting a letter from a very prestigious school was something that you could have never expect, and even more unexpected was that you didn’t need to pay a penny for it. Beautiful news that were too good to be true, but oh how stupid you were to not question such a perfect chance to get away from your shitty life.

notes:

Guys i would be more than happy for some feedback, its my first time writing in english and im more than nervous. Im not sure if what i wrote is good or even understandable. + i would be more than happy to start an ask game with this book

Chapter one

Living or in your case existing was always somehow calm. Everything you do had a plan and everyday had the same pattern, like a boring vase that stood in the same kitchen you actually were. Blue marble tiles awfully similar to tears that run down the woman's cheeks, making them a little bit more redder than before.

Not that they weren't that color before, always blushy and ready to be seen. And maybe that's why you had that sour taste in your mouth while watching them, knowing that your own were as beautifully red as hers.

"why?" a simple question sounding now like the last call for help. Voice groggy and nose runny making the sight before even more unbearable to look at. But why weren't you moved, why the tears didn't make you guality like they should. "you planned this?! You planned to leave me alone like a selfish bastard!"

Looking down didn't seem like the best option, knowing that it could just take the nerves in the room to a whole new level but you could not stop yourself. She was always one to guilt trip you into everything.

A little shout left the chapped mouth making you jump a little while lifting your head simultaneously. Sight before you seems to worsen and as you took a step back the woman took another two in the end catching your small wrist in her clawed hand.

Hissing and looking dead in her eyes made you somehow more conscious of the whole situation.

“I didn’t know.” and you really did not. Gritting your teeth so hard that it felt like some of them could fall out at any moment seems to stop you from doing sudden movements.

Breathe in and breathe out.

“Of course you think I am stupid! Just like your father, bringing me to insanity step by step. But that’s what you wanted from the beginning, am I right?”

“Stop being delusional mom” Oh how hard it was to say the name of that woman. Mother of child that she forgets most of the time, only to remember at the most shitty time. Today was exactly one of the examples of why your dream was just to wake up not seeing or better not having to think of that woman.

“Am i now? It’s you who wants me like this.” She laughed, throwing her head back in the motion. Elegant column of her neck now easy to see, showing purple and red marks similar to those from claws. “You thought I would not know, you thought you could just run away like a scared little child. Now tell me, how long were you planning this o-or maybe it was your father’s plan from the beginning.”

“I didn’t know about it, I didn’t even apply to any of the schools and you are the one that should know that.” toxicity leaked from your voice in big streams, but it was something that u could not stop at that moment. She was doing it again, acting crazy and psycho making everyone question why she wasnt getting hospital help yet.

“So you are saying that it’s my fault? You were supposed to care for me, for your ill mother, not that you are useful for anything else. How could you even think of disappearing, going to school so far away and leaving me to rot here myself like you were not meant to end like this too!”

Snatching your hand you looked at the woman once again, tears in eyes making you look fragile. Her own body looking weak, nearly dead limbs hanging from a malnourished body, showing the world wrack of a woman she was. Complexion ill looking, but what was not in her case, pale looking with green, purple and blue spots everywhere the skin was shown.

“Why are you being so shocked? Don’t tell me you thought you were going to leave someday.” Her laugh made you grit your teeth, jaw starting to hurt from the tension you were keeping. “Once again you showed how foolish you are, just like your father, just like that scumbag.”

“You are insane.”

“That we already know, so why don’t you come back to your room and start preparing for tomorrow. I want to eat a really nice breakfast next morning and maybe then after we can talk about what job you are going to have to make a living for us.”

And that was your sign to go, not looking back at the sick smirk on your mother mouth momocking your whole being. Step by step you saw the old stairs, in some place missing the color. Your room was nothing special, at least that what people said, for you it was some type of heaven. Peace that you could only catch while being there, laying on your old bed while looking at the dull ceiling.

Closing the door, you exchaled a heavy breath, sliding down on the flat surface of the door. Eyes closed like you have always done after an intense situation, today was not an exception to that.

Asking yourself what just happened, how and why. Unconsciously you looked at the letter beside you, laying so weirdly on the piece of not carpeted floor. The big fault in a little piece of paper. It was funny how this thing made such a bad influence on your life just by arriving on your doorstep.

The fact that the only person you could compare yourself to now is a story character of the name Harry was nearly not as funny as it sounded. However how u can explain getting a letter from a prestigious school you for sure did not apply or even looked up not even thinking about getting a scholarship to having a chance to think about it.

By any chance you were not stupid, but your ambitions flew away with another day in this shit hole you called home. Main reason being your own mother, which not only made it clear but for sure would kill you faster than let you leave.

You took the letter, keeping it in your hand like some unknown object you have never seen before. The texture itself is weird, making you shiver in some way. Big letter stood on the black piece of paper meaning only one thing.

Oh yes, that definitely was unsetting.

You remember clearly the first time you read the words that were put in this blank envelope. Big chance waiting for you, welcoming you with big arms and assuring you that you have nothing to be scared of.

And maybe those words were the one that brought you to that situation. It was not even three hours after the fight with your mother. Sun long down now moon shining on your pale face. Packing everything you tried to be quiet and quick hoping that your mother again ate too much of those big pills.

Big bag now laying down on your bed with a small letter beside it looking as innocent as before. You were not even seventeen making decisions that would cost you more then you can imagine. Living hell with possibility of going to another but in that moment nothing mattered like running away from old monsters.

Floor cracked under your feet even thought you were considered as a lightweight. How could you not be so malnourished when your mother forced you to teach yourself how to cook, never letting you eat before her. You tried to reason her moods or harsh behaviour to you but no matter how many times you tried it always ended in another reason why your life was just simply sad.

Running away was a good decision. You tried to say it so many times to actually believe in those empty words. The truth was that you were an innocent little child, not even a full adult that has never tasted a social life or had a friend.

“It will be alright.” Taste on your tongue after saying this a little sour with a heavy backpack danglin on your right arm. One step and then another, you touched the cold handle of your white doors. It was the first move to make and probably one of the hardest.

Bag on your arm is even more heavy making you realise what is happening. Silent breath flowed past your lips preparing you for your next step.

You pushed it closing it carefully while hoping that the oldish touch to the wood wont make an appearance in a loud noise. Silly smile now seen on your face with big relief in the back of your mind. The hardest part was just before you.

Your mothers room, not fully closed - like always, she needed to make sure nobody would come uninvited. It was just one of her weird characteristics that came with such a messed up mental health.

Small noise came out under your feet, not loud enough to wake up the woman next door but audible enough to be heard from closer.

Photos all around you telling you that you were getting near the main door. Little pictures with you inside faded from ears of hanging, making you stop for a while.

Smooth glass now under your fingers as you touch a specific photo. You and your mother being in the green garden of your grandmas. Happy vibe and pretty smiles now nearly unbelievable to witness on either of faces. It hurted or maybe it was just the adrenaline escaping from a sudden stop.

Oh how the sweet monet was quickly destroyed by the harsh noise from one of the rooms, and you exactly know which one. Loud thud rang out in the quietness of the house, making the silence even more noticable. Your breath escaped leaving you in a big ball of nerves and anxiety.

One...two...three

Silence like the one before big storms but maybe just this time it was not that. You couldn't withdraw now, you were too far and too close to the feeling of freeness. So you did the only thing that came to your mind.

Catching a sliding backpack, you turned to the door in front of you, knowing that just behind them is waiting something so much bigger than your old mother. How stupid for you to not rethink your decision, and believing your innocent mind that its just a good thing, better life that could only make you happier.

So you did it, you took the heavy steps that echoed in the narrow corridor. Light breeze touched your face, and just like the first time you gasped at the feeling. Door closing not that gently as you started running as fast as you could.

Silly smile now on your face with a bouncing bag on your shoulders keeping you on the hard ground. It was feeling similar to the first sight of the ocean or the first taste of sweet ice cream on a hot summery morning. You were in ecstasy choked by the overwhelming emotions.

And maybe because of that you were completely unaware of the danger that waited for you on that chilly night. How could you think about it when everything seemed so distracting almost as you were dreaming and in that moment you probably were closer to believing in this being a slumber.

So as you sat on the cold bench of one of the parks near your home, realization finally came silencing your beating heart. Colder weather now felt more real, as it bit your rosy cheeks. You shivered, keeping your backpack on your lap, trying to hide behind it from a chilly wind that seemed like it came from every side.

Being alone hit you like a truck and the little noises of the night didn't help your rising nerver. You started to lose your breath, feeling your tears sliding down your numb cheeks. It was terrifying now with the knowledge of your wellbeing and adrenaline wearing off with every second.

“Mom?” A silent plea that came out of your lips with shakiness that was more than noticeable. You didn't know why you said that, but the woman was probably the only person you knew. Such a sad truth that you needed to understand. You were alone now, and with that thought a more shameless sobs left your mouth with an occasional whimper.

You were sure you were going to end up dead. That you won't see the new sunset with how your body shivered. Not knowing how life worked or what is bad or good you were a little lamb that waited for hungry wolves to eat her whole.

And maybe one of those predators just saw his next meal. Long strides brought him just in front of you. Your sobs are too loud to make you hear his boots coming closer and closer. His breath just centimeters away from your head, brushing your hair like the not forgotten wind.

“Sweetheart?” It was a calming voice, not too deep but definitely belonging to a grown man. Your posture momentaly stiffened, as your closed eyes now looked at the big leather shoes before you. Your whole body is not moving, only shivering because of the chilly weather and light clothes. It was funny how suddenly you have forgotten about being alone, now wanting just this, wishing for all of this to be a big nightmare.

A deep sight left man's lips reminding you about the realness of the whole situation. You could not move, completely scared, your fingers clutched the bad praying for something to happen. The plan to just act like you were not there, ignoring the man fastly ended, when he sighted once again and crouched just to your eye level.

Deep brown eyes, looking at you with nothing but softness. If you didn’t know better you would say the man looked as if he knew you, cared and was in big relief finding you. But your mother's words echoed in your head, making you believe that every man walking on this planet is bad.

“What are you doing here sweetheart?” Once more this deep voice pierced you. Your mouth opens to answer, deeply knowing that nothing will come out. You just looked in his dark eyes, wishing that maybe he will be the one who can read minds. His eyes now on you, more concerned than before, observing your shivering body.

He was tall and broad for sure, towering over your figure surprisingly even while crouching down. His huge shoulders covered by a creamy coat which now was getting dirty by laying down on a pavement, as it partly hid his expensive looking boots.

Too distracted you didn't notice his hand coming to touch your red cheek, now gently stroking the redness of your skin.

“What a poor soul, so cold and left alone without a coat. Tell me sweetheart would you come and let me warm you a little?”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Never enough time

Taken from the information scroll “Humans: Sages of our Time” by Rivrind Pios.

The often excepted portrayal of humanity is one of greedy bipeds with no sense of reasoning beyond their own personal wants and needs. I must confess that this notion is rather fitting for most humans as many I have encountered in my travels had been in the process of pursuing their own dreams and ambitions at the time and appeared almost blindsided to the world around them. 

Their seemingly endless need for excess seems to be their key driving factor. More food, more wealth, more power, more clothing, more hair, more muscles, more and more and more on and on for an eternity. Nothing ever appears to satisfying the teeming throngs of manlings until they are buried deep beneath the soil where they want no more. Countless worlds have been left in ruin by this rabid hunger for more to the point many species consider humans to be nothing more than a blight upon the very stars themselves. I myself began harboring such ideas of humans for some time as nothing I had seen in my journeys had shown me otherwise. It wasn’t until I came across one of the strangest humans I’ve ever met in the city of Shanghai on the human home world that finally gave me greater clarity to the inner workings of humans. 

I had been exploring the south eastern hemisphere of the world and found myself wandering the streets of Shanghai. It’s history of a rich trade city was clearly visible as it had been upgraded into a massive star port taking hundreds of craft in daily. While waiting for a layover to the north western hemisphere I found myself wandering the streets of the bustling city. 

The city was a maze of catwalks, boulevards, parks, back alleys, side streets, and market places. Several times I found myself accosted by other humans while wandering the avenues, though many soon lost heart and fled after I revealed my many rows of teeth. It seemed humans were not fond of many mouths and many teeth for some reason. 

While exploring I smelled something so delicious it had me enthralled from the moment I inhaled that delectable scent. Keenly I tracked down the aroma through several alleys and back streets, down three sub levels, and passed four cordoned checks before arriving at a neat little hole in the wall food dispensary called “Athens of the East” 

The inside was dimly lit with assorted rows of tables and chairs lining the walls. In the center of the room was a massive sandbox like ring where two humans were currently punching each other violently while the humans at the tables cheering and whooped. 

At first I found myself deeply confused as to why such a barbaric establishment would have such divine food smells coming from it until I noticed the tables with plates of food still on them. to say the morsels looked delicious was an understatement so I put aside my confusion about the entertainment and waved a waitress to sit me. 

To my displeasure it appeared that every table was occupied and I would have to wait as the crowds cheered again as one of the fighters took a punch to the face and went sprawling to the sand. I was just about to leave when one of the patrons at a table waved to me. They kicked a chair opposite them from beneath the table and waved for me to come join them. 

I had heard tales of humans luring unsuspecting fools to their graves and was first hesitant to accept the offer, but the human sitting at the table merely explained it was bad taste to eat alone and wanted to have some company. I was still cautious but the smell of the foods made it impossible to pass on such a chance and so I joined the human at their table. 

They were an elderly human going on some 80-90 years if I was to guess; nothing but a younger species considering I lived to be roughly 3000 years old before my species passed on. Their clothes were of a fine material but i could see that they had been worn regularly and their hairs had turns a shade of greyish white. The elderly human was of the talking variety and seemed rather happy to be having company and chatted up a storm. I was not in as much of a talkative mode yet felt it rude after they had shared their table so I joined the conversations when I had something to say. 

It turned out that we were more alike then I had first imagined as they too were a traveler seeking new destinations, They had been to most of the human cities on their homeworld and now were waiting to catch a flight to the Hive homeworld thirty three systems over. Their flight had been delayed for several days now due to gravitational storms and they had come to here to let off some steam. I was going to inquire as to what exactly that meant when one of the fighters in the ring had been knocked down and was unable to get up. The cheers of the crowd were silenced as another human stepped forwarded and asked if there was anyone brave enough to challenge the surviving champion. 

To my complete surprise the elderly human I had been sharing the table with rose up and unbuttoned his shirt. He left it on his chair and stepped forward into the ring. The announcer backed away and rang the bell and the two fought each other. The elderly man was not what one would call in the prime of his life, what with his belly sagging forward like a sack of lumpa berries, but his muscles were toned well enough to keep the fight far from being one sided. The bout lasted about twenty minutes before the elderly man, now covered in bruises, threw a hard right and knocked his opponent to the ground and won. He returned to his chair shortly after the crowds cheers had died down and resume his drinking and food consumption. 

I asked him why would committing combat let off steam to which he replied that he was angry that his flight had been delayed so long and that fighting a stranger in some back alley dive had always been a wish he’d had since he was a young scrapper. Perplexed I inquired again how a delayed flight transitions to brutal combat. The Hive world wasn’t going anywhere and would still be there when the flights resumed. 

The elderly man sat in silence for some time, his stare focused on the swirling ice cubes of his drink as he rocked it back and forth. He told me that he was dying and that his time among the living was dwindling day by day. He had a disease called “cancer” that was slowly devouring his body from the inside out like rot and soon he would be too ill even to lift himself out of a bed let alone fight someone in a back alley fighting ring. 

It was unusual to feel sad for someone you have just met and yet I felt pain knowing my new companion would soon pass off their physical remains. I apologized to him and gave him my well wishes too which they oddly laughed and waved me away like I had just knocked over their glass and thought it was the end of the world. 

He thanked me but said he did not want my pity nor my sorrow. I asked him why then if he was dying that he would take such a journey off world with such little time remaining. He took a swish of his drink and waved for another as he told me it had always been one of his wishes to see another world. 

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment and his eyes narrowed out. He spoke of many things he had wanted to do when he was younger. Buy a boat, go fishing every day, ask his schooling crush out for a dance, traverse the globe with friends. He told me of how something would always come up at the last second that would hold him back and his chance would pass him by. How many missed opportunities had passed him by that only now in his old age did he see. 

He chuckled to himself and said how he wished he could live forever, or at the very least a few more years, so he could finally check everything off his list as he took another sim of his drink. 

Now that he was old it seemed like all he had was time until he found out his clock was ticking faster to his demise then he had planned. Now he wished to achieve what dreams he could before his clock finally stopped. 

To this day I’m not sure if it was their words or the combination of drink and food I had been having but in an instant my entire perspective of humanity had shifted. 

We spoke for some time more together until my notifier alerted me that my flight was now on schedule. I stood up and shook the hand of the strange human as they turned their back to me and entered the ring once more. I pondered what I had learned from the odd man as I took the streets back upwards to the space port.

Humans apparent greed and carelessness was not in a self centered manner for some, but rather born from a fear of knowing constantly that their existence would eventually come to an end.

For a being such as myself with an extended lifetime I do not feel this need as much, but with short lived species like humans it must be a constant cloud circling them ever reminding them that what they miss today may be missed forever.

It was only after I reached the the top level of the city with my mind circling with ideas of missed opportunities that I realized something. For all the stranger had shared to me, for all the stories and laugh had in that dimly lit food dispensary, for all the kindness they had shown me I had made a fatal mistake. 

I had never asked them their name.

I had missed my opportunity......   

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 12: Fairy Tale Of New York

Part 1- Gram Mo Chroi

Summary: In the run up to the Festive Period, Katie presents the Publishing Company proposal to the Stark Industries board, and our favourite couple spend their first Christmas together in New York. New Year’s Eve is welcomed in with a bang at a Stark Industries Gala and Steve’s simply happy he has his girl by his side…even when there’s a little mishap in The Elevator

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: SMUT (NSFW!) So over 18s only please. And some teeth rotting fluff… and LANGUAGE

A/N: Once again thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her GORGEOUS edit

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 11

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

December 2013

Steve loved his girl. He would die for her if he had to, without a second thought. But the one thing he dreaded above everything was the thought of shopping, not least as it was the middle of December. Frankly, when she was shopping for herself Katie was a nightmare. Not on purpose, she was just so indecisive about whatever she was looking for, insisting that things made her look too wide hipped, short, big assed, big chested (which he’d told her cheekily wasn’t the clothes fault she had good assets which had earned him a slap around the back of the head). It was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, and he had no idea why she was so insecure as frankly she was gorgeous and would stop a room if she walked in wearing a sack.

“You don’t need to come!” She chuckled at him, shoving on her jacket. “I know I’m a pain in the ass and it’ll take me ages, plus it will be busy as it’s nearly Christmas.” “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, dropping her arms round his shoulders from behind the sofa, her hands coming to rest on his chest. “I just need a break from that damned proposal and to be honest, I only make you come so you can carry my bags.” “Nice to see I have my uses” He snorted sarcastically, rolling his head round so he could catch her lips.

“Well it makes me feel special.” She shrugged as she straightened up.

And damned it, after she’d said that, how could he not go?

“You know what, its fine. I’ll come. Give me a second.” He gave a slight sigh or resignation, and when he glanced at her he noticed her turn around with a smirk on her face and he knew then he’d been played, well and truly.

“You’re so full of shit.” He shook his head as she laughed whilst he went to retrieve his boots.

Two hours later he was beginning to regret his utter lack of ability to resist her charms. She was still flapping about her New Year’s Eve outfit for the Stark Industries Ball, worse than she normally did Steve noted. Six dresses she had tried on. Six, and she hated every one. Deciding enough was enough, instead of letting her walk into the next shop he’d tugged her hand, his strength easily keeping her from following her intended path and pulled her up the escalator to the fancy, pretentious champagne bar that was placed on the floor overlooking the lower floors of the City Centre mall.

“Why can’t I find anything that looks good?” She muttered as he slid a glass of Bollinger over to her, handing his card to the bar tender.

“Katie, stop it.” He looked at her where she was perched next to him at the bar. “All of them looked great.” “You’d say that no matter what.” She looked at him, and she couldn’t help but smile at the affection on his face.

“Because it’s true.” He smirked taking a pull of his beer “But if you want my opinion the red one was my favourite.” And it was. It was a scarlet colour, straight cut satin number, which clung to every delectable curve of her body, flashing a peep of leg through the thigh high split on the right hand side, not to mention the neckline and back. It was a halter-neck with a cowl at the front giving a subtle flash of cleavage and left her upper back was bare. It was demure enough to keep most of what was underneath it to the imagination, yet also flashed enough skin to make him feel slightly warm every time he looked at her. When he’d seen her walk out of the changing room it, it had almost made his mouth water, and it had definitely made his trousers feel tighter

“The Galliano one?”

“If that was the red one then yeah.” He laughed. “Come on, Doll, like I’m gonna know that!”

She grinned as he looked up and thanked the bar tender, signing his name on the check with a flourish. He didn’t even look at how ludicrously expensive the champagne and his fancy European lager was. He didn’t care, he earned enough from SHIELD to treat his girl every once in a while. In fact, as he watched her lost in thoughts, he decided then he wanted to buy her the dress too.

“Let me buy it for you.” He said softly.

“What?” She frowned “Don’t be stupid, not like I can’t afford it.” “That isn’t the point.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness. “I’d like to.” She eyed him for a moment before she smiled and reached out to gently brush his cheek with her hand “Okay. Thank you.” Well that had been easier than he had anticipated. Normally she argued like hell about paying for things, be it takeout, food, meals, dates. Instead, she leaned over to give him a soft peck on the lips and he smiled back. But then another frown creased her brow and she was back to brooding again.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” He asked, his hand landing on her knee.

Katie looked up at him, before she sighed. “I’m nervous.” “About the pitch?”

She nodded. And she was. She had been working on the Presentation and Business Plan for the Publishers since Thanksgiving. The Business Plan had been submitted to the board two days ago, and she was due to give the Presentation tomorrow morning. She had hoped that shopping for a new power suit and a dress for New Year’s would distract her for a few hours. It hadn’t.

“Doll, you’ve been working on it for weeks. Pepper says it’s great, even Tony didn’t find anything to pick holes in.”

“I just, well I want everyone to vote on it because it’s a good idea, not just because of who I am, you know?” “And they will. Honestly, you’re over thinking and over worrying. You’re going to smash it.”

He watched as a small smile tugged at her lips “You and your sudden obsession with street lingo.”

“What?” He frowned, mock annoyance on his face “Can’t Captain America be down with the kids?” “Okay, I never want to hear you say that, ever again.” she chuckled and he grinned. “Oh, but speaking of Kids…are you gonna make the Foundation Party?”

Steve took a deep breath. The Stark Foundation apparently hosted a yearly Christmas Party at the tower for local children who were either ill or in the care system. Last year’s hadn’t gone ahead on account of Tony’s near mental breakdown-slash-terrorist problem but this year they were full steam ahead. Tony would be there in his Iron Man get up, Katie as well (she loved everything about the party) and she’d asked Steve if he would mind coming along. And he didn’t mind per-se, it was just the idea of 50 kids running around that invited utter chaos.

“I’m gonna try, Sweetheart. As long as there’s no missions that go off I’ll be there.”

“Well don’t worry if you can’t” she said, smiling “We’re not telling the kids you are anyway, so if you turn up it will be like Santa himself has arrived. Only in a different suit. And with a shield not a sack.”

Steve let out a chortle before he dropped a kiss to her head “Ok Cinderella, let’s go get your dress then we can go home, eat junk and watch trash.”

“You know how to spoil a lady.” Katie smirked, and Steve flashed her a grin, not least because he knew it was her favourite thing to do in the world.

***** Katie took a deep breath as she sat in Pepper’s office. She’d landed in New York little over an hour ago and was now nervous as hell. Really nervous. Steve had assured her she would be fine as he had dropped her at the airfield to catch the jet over. He had assured her she would be fine when he kissed her goodbye. He had assured her she would be fine when she landed and received his text message. And all that amounted to was the fact she now thought Steve was an optimistic fool because she was not fine. She was shitting herself.

“You ready?” Pepper asked as she walked into her office, effortlessly business-like but graceful as always.

“No.” Katie said honestly, looking up from where she had been sat reading over her cue cards again.

“Well, we’re about to start.” she smiled “I put you on first so you can concentrate on the rest of the board meeting once you’ve pitched.” Katie nodded and stood up, smoothing down her pencil skirt. “Ok, let’s get it over with.” She followed Pepper down to the Boardroom and stepped inside where one of the Interns was setting up the screen to the right. She smiled at the other members of the Board, all who she knew by name and took a seat to the right of Tony who held the head of the table, Pepper sitting opposite her to his left.

“You got this Kiddo.” Tony leaned over to whisper in her ear before he sat up “Alright Ladies and Gents, the last Board meeting of 2013…”

Katie listened as Tony spoke and then Pepper outlined the agenda and then way too fast she was being invited to speak. She stood up, cleared her throat, looked at the Presentation, to her cards and then froze before she smiled gently.

“You know what…” She said, looking round “I had a huge, posh presentation prepared but I know you’ve read all the statistics and the numbers” she took a deep breath and tossed her cue cards down on the table “So I’m gonna speak from my heart and share my vision…or in Tony’s words, I’m winging it….” Tony leaned back in his chair and watched as his sister held the room, occasionally glancing at Pepper who was smiling proudly. Katie spoke articulately, clearly but most of all passionately. He could tell that most of the board members were with her, the only one that was going to be an ass-hat about it was Jeremy Saul, their Finance Director. He had been the only one that had questioned the viability of Katie’s desire to go for un-published, un-known authors. Her proposal and vision wasn’t about making as much profit as possible, it was about encouraging talent.

“I just have one question…” Jeremy leaned back in his chair and Tony sat up, stroking his beard as he looked at the man who was staring up at his sister. Katie turned her gaze to him.

“By all means, please Mr Saul.” 

Arse-Saul more like… “I’ve read the business plan. You don’t intend to turn a profit for the first year…” He continued, an annoyingly smug look on his face. “And even after that you don’t seem to be focussed on any kind of margins or return on sales whatsoever.” “That’s correct.” Katie nodded.

“Well, forgive me for asking but what benefit will this bring to Stark Industries from a money perspective?” Katie took a deep breath, and glanced at Tony who had arched his eyebrow. She could tell he was thinking the same thing as her - ‘Dickhead’.

“The same benefit the Stark Relief Fund brings. The same benefit the Stark Foundation brings.” Katie replied, taking a deep breath “I’m not going to lie, my vision isn’t about profiteering. It’s about giving a springboard to those Authors who, like JK Rowling have had every door so far slammed in their faces.” she looked around the room remembering Peppers’ advice- Enthuse, engage, engross. “Granted, in the future it would be nice to have a decent turn over, and I don’t want to run at a loss. I’m a firm believer I can make it breakeven in the first two years as the numbers show, and the remaining three on the five year plan show a return on sales of just over five percent.”

“That isn’t a huge amount.” Saul looked at Katie and she nodded.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But you know as well as I do that Stark Industries turns over a ludicrous amount of money every year so it doesn’t need another section which turns over profits in excess of thirty percent. That isn’t my vision here, and that’s not what setting up Stark Independent Publishing is about.”

Saul nodded and scribbled down something on his note pad and looked to Pepper who was leading the meeting to show he had no more questions.

Katie took a deep breath, thanked everyone for their time and sat down.

“Okay, let’s take a break.” Pepper said, glancing around the room “Grab a coffee, back here in ten minutes for the Contract Status review.” she shot Katie a large smile as she stood up and walked out of the large Oak doors.

“Kiddo.” Tony leaned over as the various board members started to move about and chatter amongst themselves “You crushed it.”

Katie smiled at her brother as he squeezed her shoulder before standing up and shrugging on his jacket.

“Think that calls for a drink…hey, Pepper, can we…”

His voice trailed off as the boardroom door shut, leaving Katie alone. Leaning back in her chair she allowed herself a smile. That hadn’t gone too bad after all.

*****

Steve looked over to where his phone was placed on the bench by the side of the gym for what felt like the one hundredth time since midday. The meeting should be over by now.

“Expecting a call?” Natasha drawled as she sent a right hook his way which he dodged.

“It’s Katie’s pitch today.” He jabbed back with a forearm throw which Natasha easily twirled under. “I thought it would be done by now.” In all honesty he wasn’t nervous. He knew she’d got this, the passion and the detail she’d put into it made it impossible for her not to. He’d told her as much when she’d zipped up that delectable grey pencil skirt over dark black tights and shrugged on a silky black blouse that morning after her shower. He’d told her as much when he’d kissed her goodbye at the air field.

But he still wanted to know she was okay.

“Oh, the Publishing thing?” Nat asked and Steve nodded as they circled on another. “She’s a Stark, what she gotta pitch for?”

“There’s an entire board.” Steve said. “She can’t vote on it as it’s a conflict of interest. So even if Tony votes, it isn’t enough to hold a true majority. She needs them both onside.” “Huh.” Nat said, “No wonder you’re distracted.” “I’m not…” he began but in a swoop Natasha had his legs from under him, knee pressed against his throat, a shit eating grin spread across her face as he rolled his eyes.

“Wanna finish that sentence?” She smirked.

He took a deep breath as she stood up and then his phone began to ring. He effortlessly rolled out of Natasha’s light hold and crossed the room to pick it up.

“Hey, Doll.” he said, smiling. “How did it go?” “Well…” Katie began to talk, and Steve had to strain to hear her voice over the noise in the background, noise that sounded like a bar. “It could have gone worse…” “But it couldn’t have gone much better either Spangles…” Tony added from the back ground “She was fucking amazing.” “Told you.” Steve grinned, giving Natasha the thumbs up.

“Tony’s being premature. We won’t know if they’re going to agree until the end of the year but he insisted we come out for drinks anyway.”

“Pssht” Tony said in the background. “It’s nearly Christmas, can’t I treat my little sister to an afternoon on the Pier…hey, yeah can I get a…”

Steve smiled as the noise started to die down a little, Katie having moved to find a quieter spot.

“So it went well?” “Yeah. Was pointless me spending so much time on my presentation though.” she laughed “I didn’t use it in the end, went for the tried and tested Stark format of winging it.”

Steve let out a chuckle and looked back at Natasha who was watching him, an odd smirk on her face “I’m pleased it went well honey but I gotta go. I gotta finish this sparring session then I have one of those damned videos to film…” “What is it today?” Katie asked, and he could her the grin in her voice as she dropped it to mimick his own “’So, you had your first wet dream?’”

“Punk.” he shot immediately and she let out a laugh.

“Jerk”

****

“Okay, so, we all set?” Tony said, stepping forward and examining his repulsor gauntlets.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Katie straightened the Nova Star shaped buckle on her utility belt.

“Let’s just stick to the plan.” Steve looked to Katie on his right, then Tony on his left before focusing on the door in front “One group each. No distractions.”

The siblings nodded and Steve stepped forward, opening the large door. They were instantly hit with a barrage of noise as forty-five kids swamped the three Avengers. But it was a small, olive-skinned, ebony haired girl that reached Katie first, and she bent down beaming.

“Emmy!” Katie pulled the small girl into a hug “Wow, you’ve gotten so big!”

“I’m six now.” Emmy said proudly, flashing a grin. Her front tooth was missing.

“No.” Katie shook her head. “Uh-uh, no way.” “I am.”

“You’re catching me up!”

Emmy let out a giggle and Katie stood up, glancing over at where Tony and Steve were surrounded by little people, all of them bouncing up and down.  Emmy, however, hung back slightly as the other children all pushed forward to hug or see Iron Man or Captain America, and she gripped Katie’s leg tighter.

“You okay?” Katie glanced down at the little girl who clung to her leg as she nodded.

“I want to meet Captain America.” She said, shyly. “Everyone says he’s your boyfriend. Is that true?” “It is.” Katie nodded.

“So you kiss him?”

“I do.” Katie grinned as Emmy made a gagging noise. With a chuckle she gently ruffled the girl’s hair. “Come on, I’ll take you to say hi.” Emmy took Katie’s hand and they crossed the room to where the crowd had now dispersed, the kids being shepherded into the various groups for the annual tour round the tower, which was basically one huge big supervised treasure hunt where each of them came back holding the latest games console or tablet depending on their age.

“Captain?” Katie called and Steve frowned, turning round, it had been a while since she had called him that, well outside of the bedroom anyway. As he looked at her, the tell-tale flush spread up her neck into her face and he knew she’d had the same thought. Ignoring the heat in his own cheeks he looked at her and watched as she gently moved her gloved hand to the back of the dark haired girl’s head, as the kid’s hand curled round Katie’s. Her large, brown eyes glanced up at Steve shyly. “There’s someone here that wants to meet you.”

Steve smiled, his head devoid of his helmet, and he crouched down in front of the small girl as Katie did the same, dropping to her level. “Hi.” He greeted her.

“Hi…” She replied softly “My name’s Emily.” “Emily, that’s a real pretty name, little Miss.” Steve smiled at her

“My friends call me Emmy.”

“Can I call you Emmy?” Steve asked.

The small girl seemed to ponder for a second before she looked at Katie then back to Steve “Katie calls me Emmy. And as you’re her boyfriend I suppose that would be okay.” Steve looked at Katie who was biting her lip to stop herself from laughing and he nodded at the small girl, a smile crossing his face “Well how’s about you call me Steve then, but we keep it to ourselves. Only you and the grown-ups can call me that today.”

“Mr Stark calls you Spangles.” Emmy said, frowning.

“Yeah, he said grown-ups.” Katie smiled “Tony is not a grown up.” Emmy let out a giggle “You’re silly, Katie.” “She is.” Steve nodded and Katie stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes causing the small girl to laugh even harder.

“Emmy!” One of the attendees from the home called and beckoned her over “Come on or you’ll miss the treasure hunt.”

Emmy threw her arms round Steve and he momentarily paused before he gave her a hug before she ran off to join her peers.

“She’s cute…” He watched her go before he looked to Katie as they both stood up.

“Yeah I know you’re not supposed to have favourites but…” Katie sighed “I met her when she was eighteen months old. She’s adorable.” “What’s her story?”

“Her mom died when she was thee months old.” Katie sighed, watching as the kids were organised into a line “There were complications at birth that she never recovered from. Her dad then killed himself a few weeks later. She had no other family who were willing to take her in so she’s been in a home ever since.”

“That’s awful.” Steve frowned.

“Makes me realise just how lucky I was that Tony stepped up and became my guardian after mom and dad died.” Katie glanced at the young girl, the softness in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Steve as she spoke again “You know, every year I pray she doesn’t show up here. Not because I don’t want to see her but because it means she’s found a home and a family.” 

Steve smiled gently, looping an arm around her shoulders, the pair of them watching as Tony joined the front of one of the three lines the kids had been organised in and was looking at them all waving his hands.

“You want kids?” Katie asked, looking up at Steve. He took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose “Shit, sorry.” she continued, shaking her head and rubbing her temple. “That’s a bit forward, I didn’t mean…” “I know.” Steve shook his head, understanding. “And yeah, I did, before I joined the army. All I wanted was a family, stability, to hold down a good job. Now, well, things went a bit crazy didn’t they?” “Tell me about it.” Katie chuckled.

“What, errr, what about you?” Steve asked, rubbing at his neck a little awkwardly.

“Eventually, maybe.” She shrugged. Steve glanced down at her, a soft look on his face, but he was distracted as Emmy had returned and she was tugging on the dark material of his Uniform trousers.

“Can you be leader of our group?” She looked up at Steve.

“Woah, what about me Emmy?” Katie playfully frowned, her hands on her hips.

Emmy shot her a grin “You were the leader of my group for the last two years…” “Wow.” Katie smiled “You’re replacing me. Fine, I’m not offended. At all.”

Emmy laughed and Steve’s mouth curled upwards before he looked down at Emmy and nodded. “Alright Ma’am.” He saluted, as Emmy laughed and then slipped her hand into his. “Lead the way.” Katie watched them leave, convinced his super hearing would have just picked up the noise of her ovaries exploding.

*****

Forty Five kids came to the tower and forty five left. No one died, and Steve only had to throw his shield once for a demonstration. All in all the Stark Foundation Christmas Party 2013 was a roaring success.

The residents of the tower spent the next few days they had before Christmas lazing around, watching old Christmas films as Katie introduced Steve to her favourite one, ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’. They decorated a tree in her apartment, headed through the streets of New York in the dark to see all the various Christmas lights, wrapped presents, spent evenings drinking hot chocolate laced with liquor and before they both knew what had happened, it was Christmas Eve and to Katie’s utter delight (and Tony’s it would seem, as JARVIS informed them dryly that Mr Stark was demanding that they go outside to build snowmen) it was snowing again to top up the already substantial covering on the ground.

Steve hated being cold, a consequence of spending seventy years frozen but the childish excitement written all over Katie’s face was enough to make him brave the snow, and so, at half past two in the afternoon he was stood in Central Park, along with Katie, Pepper and Tony, building snowmen-which Steve was amazingly adept at, something that came as a surprise to Pepper and Tony, but not to Katie considering his artistic nature. Bruce called Tony half way through following the conclusion of whatever seminar he had been in and an hour or so later joined them, and was immediately told to judge the snowmen contest. He declared Steve the winner causing Tony and Katie to pelt the mild mannered Scientist with snowballs until his grown up façade slipped and he joined in, catching Tony with a perfectly placed lump of snow right between the eyes.

The light began to draw in and after purchasing a hot dog each from one of the stands the sounds of carols drifted to their ears so the five of them wandered towards the music. They found a group of singers not far from the Alice In Wonderland statue, each holding lanterns and sheets of music. They looked at one another and joined the crowd as they group began to sing Silent Night. Steve slipped his arms around Katie from behind, pulling her to his bulky, coated frame and she leaned back happily into his embrace.  His cold nose brushed against her cheek near her ear as he stooped to drop a kiss there, causing Katie to laugh out loud as he continued to press his cold face against her neck.

“I haven’t seen a carol service since I was a boy.” He said softly.

She turned her head to look at him, as he looked back, was grinning like a school boy as the snow began to fall again, because, whilst he might hate being cold, he didn’t hate any time spent with his best girl.

She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Taking you back?”

“A little…” He smiled before she turned back to the band, as his nose nuzzled at her ear “Love you… gram mo chroi…”

The words phonetically registered in her brain, graw miu cree the Irish brogue he had spoken made her shiver.

“Yeah that sounds really sexy and I have no idea what you just said.” She tilted her head back to face him.

“You don’t speak Gaelic?” He teased.

“Italian, German, Spanish and French…but no Gaelic.” She smirked.

“Smart ass…” He rolled his eyes before chuckling slightly, his eyes leaving hers to focus on the singers again. “So what does it mean?” She pressed.

“It means love of my heart, of my life.” “Smooth Rogers.” She grinned, catching his lips again.

The singers finished to a round of applause from the surrounding crowd, including wolf whistles from Tony, and the five of them set off back to the Tower, the streetlights bouncing off the white of the snow. Walking the twenty or so minutes back they all stopped to enjoy hot chocolates laced with lashings of brandy at a small Cafe on the corner of Park and 5th, along with roast chestnuts and mince pies. Katie smiled, remarking that it was about as clichéd a Christmas Eve you could get. And she absolutely loved it.  

Once back at the tower they all said goodnight and headed to their respective floors and apartments. Once Steve and Katie had shed their various outer layers of winter clothing, Katie instructed Jarvis to light the fire before she headed off into the bedroom before walking back out and across the hall to the larger bathroom where Steve heard her turn on the tap to the tub.

“You having a bath?” He called dropping onto the sofa.

“Warming up.” She called back, grinning as she dropped a Christmas Pudding shaped bath-bomb into the tub, watching as it started to fizz, the gorgeous smells of cinnamon hitting her nostrils. Biting her lip she walked to the door of the bathroom and leaned against it calling down the hall. “Wanna join me?”

Steve heard her, and didn’t need asking twice.

He walked into the bathroom to see her drop her robe to the floor, flashing him a view of her bare back, ass, legs before she stepped into the obscenely large tub and he shed his clothes in about five seconds flat, climbing in behind her. She leaned back against him, his arms coming to rest naturally on the sides of the large tub.

“Why…” he began, looking at his skin, “is there glitter all over my arm?” “I used a bath bomb”

“A what?”

“Things you drop in the water alongside or instead of bubble bath and they smell nice. I’ll show you another day.” Katie explained, closing her eyes and leaning back into the warmth of the water, her head laying on his chest, the fingers of her right hand delicately rubbing across his knuckles.

They were silent for a while, Steve’s head lolling against the back of the tub, utterly contented to stay there until the water went cold, when Katie spoke.

"Say it again.” She whispered softly, wanting to hear the words he’d said before.

He quirked a crooked smile. “Say what?”

She chuckled and bit at the corner of her bottom lip and tilted her head round so she could look at him. “The thing you said earlier… say it again.”

He didn’t’ say a word, instead he dropped his head to kiss her neck, lips laying soft kisses along her shoulders. Slowly, his right hand moved from its spot on the tub to stroking her hip, down the outside of her thigh, up again and then across to her abdomen. The subtle brush of his fingertips on her sensitive flesh set off chills of a very different kind to the one’s Katie had been feeling all afternoon in the snow and she let her eyelids fall shut, a small sigh escaping her lips as his mouth trailed a line from her right shoulder across to her left.

"Say it again.” She breathed out but still Steve said nothing. Instead, he moved his hand down her abdomen going lower and lower until he slowly began to tease her.

Katie shuddered, her breath caught again as her head fell backwards. “Say it…” she tried again, the words coming out as a desperate choked plea.

His grinning face pressed to her neck and shoulder as he nipped gently. “Sorry, I’m an old man. I forget what I say sometimes.”

He knew exactly what she was after and Katie knew he did, he was just being a tease and it was driving her wild. So she decided to deploy the big guns. Her hand drifted down to find his, wrapping tightly around his wrist, stilling his touch and she turned to face him, gently straddling him, sitting on his thighs and sending a slosh of water over the side of the tub onto the tiled floor.

"You forgot that I’m the love of your life?” She pouted softly, eyes locking onto his.

“Doll,” Steve shook his head, dropping his forehead to hers. “No one could ever make me forget that. Ever.”

Bingo. Katie felt the smile cross her face as she leaned in to kiss him as her hand reached down into the water and wrapped around his hardening cock causing him to grunt at little as she squeezed her palm around him.

“Then say it.” She demanded, her hand slowly sliding up his shaft and Steve looked at her, his eyes blown with lust.

“You’re such a fucking brat.” He reached up and tangled one hand into her hair, pulling her face down to his, kissing her hard and he muttered against her mouth, “Gram mo Chroi…”

“Fuck, I love you,” Katie huffed out into his open mouth as his hands went down to her waist and he gently pulled her forwards, positioning her before, without warning,  he thrust upwards and she moaned, pushing down onto his lap, water lapping around them as he filled her. “I love you, more than anything.” Katie nipped at his lip and coiled her fingers into his hair, drawing a hiss from his mouth as she moved again, rocking her hips, grinding down on him.

“I love you too.” His ragged breaths snagged on the words as he pressed up into her harder, then harder again, his hands straying to her back, fingers sliding up and down her spine as he pulled her closer to him, kissing her hard before turning his lips to her neck then her chest, the trails of water and soap suds trickled down from between her cleavage to her navel. It made him groan as he looked at her gently rocking on top of him as bucked his hips upwards, meeting her thrust for thrust.

He sat up a little making her purr as he hit her even deeper, as he pulled her close, chest pressed to chest as he kissed her, hands snaking up into the back of her hair which was piled messily on top of her head. Katie moaned into his mouth as he thrust upwards again, and again as she pushed down, rotating her hips against him.  It was slow, deep, loving, the sounds of sloshing water and gentle moans and groans filled the large bathroom as they both clung to one another, as close as they possibly could be. Eventually Katie felt the knot in her stomach beginning to unravel and she threw her head back in a soft cry, Steve’s name tumbling from her lips, before she fell forward, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck as she caught her breath. A few more thrusts and Steve was right behind her, his body sliding down into the tub, head resting against the back, his girl tightly clutched to his chest.

Steve’s hands ran up and down her back as Katie gave a low hum of contentment before pulling back, smoothing his hair back with her hands and smiling softly at him, before she kissed him gently.

“You know,” Steve said gently as she pressed her forehead against his. “This is certainly an improvement on Christmas Eve last year.”

Katie chuckled slightly and closed her eyes. "It’s been the best one I’ve ever had.”

*****

Christmas Morning was one of the few times Katie could remember having woken before Steve. But she was always up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Morning and had been since she was a child. Steve’s arms were wrapped around her, one leg tossed over hers doing his best koala impression as always, head buried into the back of her neck. She shifted, rolling over to face him, causing his grip to loosen slightly and simply watched him, taking in how much younger he looked with his face relaxed and how comfortable and peaceful he was in sleep. She leaned over to gently place a kiss on his cheek just underneath where those ridiculously long eyelashes rested, before she rose, swapping Steve’s T-shirt for a long sleeved pair of Christmas pyjamas adorned with little snowmen and Christmas trees and headed into the living area.

The tree was already lit (God bless Jarvis) as was the garland over the fire place and the lights in the kitchen. Turning on the radio low, she poured some ground Christmas Roast into the machine and set about making pancake batter whilst popping off a cork on a bottle of Krug to use for Mimosas, the breakfast drink of champions

Steve heard her singing. Cracking an eye open he glanced at the clock, it wasn’t even gone Eight yet. He took a moment to stretch before he got out of bed, went to use the bathroom and came out, throwing on a pair of plaid sleep pants over his boxers before he made his way to the kitchen. He stopped dead when he saw her dancing around and had to stifle his laugh as he slipped his arms around her from behind, making her jump slightly.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” He gruffed, his voice still thick with sleep as she tilted her head round to catch the kiss he was offering.

“Merry Christmas, Soldier.”  

“What are you wearing?” He arched an eyebrow and Katie grined. “It’s the rules…” She turned to look at him. “On Christmas Day, in the Stark house, we all wear Christmas pyjamas and no one gets dressed until well after lunchtime and then we wear Christmas sweaters, eat dinner, lounge around and do absolutely nothing bar stuffing our faces, drinking and watching movies.”

“I don’t have any Christmas Pyjamas…or a sweater.” Steve frowned. “Yeah you do.” Katie informed, putting down the bowl of batter she had been whisking and grabbing his hand. She tugged him back down the hall and into the bedroom, Steve cursing her silently in his brain for as usual thinking of everything. She headed into the large walk in wardrobe and tossed him a Bloomingdale’s carrier bag. He arched an eyebrow as he reached inside pulling out first the sweater, and giving a loud groan as he examined the large reindeer on the front.

“Its nose lights up.” Katie grinned as she pressed it.  At that he let out a snort and shook his head.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Hey I don’t make the rules.”

“I never was one for rules.” He muttered, now examining the Pyjamas that were green with little red Santa Clauses all over them.

“Bullshit!” Katie laughed and he looked at her, as she fake saluted “Captain America reporting for duty, Sir!”

“Punk.” He shook his head as his lips quirked upwards and he waved the clothes he was holding at her. “They’re awful.”

“They’re supposed to be, that’s the point. Don’t be a Grinch…” “I have no idea what that is.”

“Ok, a Scrooge then…” “I am not dressing like an idiot.” Katie opened her mouth to make a joke about stars, stripes and spandex but he cut her off instantly, spotting the look on her face. Holding up his hand he shook his head. “Just don’t.”

After some cajoling, Katie managed to convince Steve to wear the Pyjamas for the morning. Stockings were opened, Bucks Fizz and Coffee was drunk as they exchanged gifts sitting cross legged on the floor by the fire. But Steve had one last gift for her that he hadn’t wrapped as it wasn’t a Christmas gift really, it was something he’d wanted to give her for a while now but he finally felt the time was right. He took the opportunity to retrieve it from his bag whilst she was dressing after they had eaten breakfast, grabbing the small item in his hand and crossing the room so he was stood in front of her.

“There’s something else I wanted to give you” He spoke, but as he did he found himself unable to stop his eyes from straying down the top half of her body which was clad in nothing but a bra as she pulled on the large sweater. "Huh?” Her voice was muffled as her head emerged from the hole in the sweater and she noticed him watching her. She smirked, sticking her arms through the garment.  “You already did that last night. Several times remember?” “I don’t mean that.” He rolled his eyes as she started laughing before he crossed the room and stood in front of her. Katie watched as he was turning a small, circular leather box of some kind in his hand. “I found this when we were going through my stuff for the museum” he said, gently handing it to her. “I want you to have it.”

She looked down at the worn leather of the dark brown box, before pressing the small button which released the catch on the worn, dark brown leather and she carefully opened the lid. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the delicate ring inside. The stone was a small, tear drop shaped emerald set into a yellow gold band with 3 small diamonds sat underneath the larger part of the teardrop stone. “It was my mom’s” Steve offered by explanation as she looked up at him, her eyes shining “Dad bought it for her before they left Limerick for New York, something to remind her of home.” “The Emerald Isle…” Katie smiled gently as she looked at the ring, her chest filling with warmth. “It probably isn’t worth much and I know you don’t really wear yellow gold but I was reading up that you could get it coated…” “Steve…” She shook her head as she looked up at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s beautiful.” And it was. All the more so because it had belonged to his mother. A woman she knew so much about. A woman who raised the wonderful man stood in front of her. A woman she wished with all her heard she could have met.  

“Are you sure you want me to have it?” She blurted out and Steve nodded. “She gave me that specifically to pass to my someone special.” He trailed off as Katie smiled softly, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto the ring finger of her right hand. It was a tad loose but nothing that was too drastic to stop her wearing it for the time being. “Thank you.” Her voice cracked slightly as she looked up into his eyes, those baby blues she knew so well were misting over. “And for the record, regardless of what it’s worth or not worth, it means the world to me that you want me to have it. It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had”. She gently cupped his cheek in her hand before she leaned up and captured his lips in a soft kiss. “I love you.” She whispered gently as his nose rubbed against hers, their foreheads coming to a rest against one another. “Love you too.” He smiled, before giving her another quick kiss. “Enough to wear the sweater?” She pulled back, her arms snaking round his neck as his hands dropped to her waist. He glanced at the one she was wearing which made her look like a giant Christmas tree and let out a long groan. He really didn’t want to wear the hideous Christmas sweater, but as he looked at her she made those eyes, those goddamned eyes that could get him to do whatever she wanted.

He just couldn’t say no to her. He was whipped, big time. And he knew it. "Fine I’ll wear the sweater." 

**** Chapter 12 Part 2

[kandyrezi]

– red carnations;

⌜anonymous asked: Ok so I know there's been a fair bit of Sin stuff, but I feel the need to ask - how would Sin react to her darling hunting her down to confess to her, despite her being in a relationship? They just couldn't hold in the feelings anymore, despite knowing that it's foolish to expect someone as incredible as her to be into them, etc.⌟

pairing: yandere(?) sin x reader (funamusea)

(a/n: there can never too much naga wife love to go around~ u v u tbh i’m not sure how cute of a scenario you wanted it to be, but i hope this is to your liking!)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The earthly scent of the flowers reaches your senses, in that moment it’s almost easy to become lost in a feeble, little fantasy where nothing in life can go astray.

You’re trying to wrap your head around what has possessed you to such notion involving you piecing together what was previously shattered to lost courage in order to get it off your chest. By how many times your heart beats above the norm whenever she’s near, you could almost mean it quite literally.

…she is married for Elux’s sake, how could you ever hope to think there being a chance of her returning your feelings?

What would that make you anyhow, a concubine of some kind to a harmonious marriage?

For the most part you are an observer from the sidelines; she is always busy, so you aren’t sure if there is a correct time you are supposed to approach her. Sin is nearly always in presence of her wife otherwise, so it would be difficult to get her alone. Unless you want to tell her you have feelings for her in front of Reficul or Mors, who would no doubt bury you alive.

You had no problem conversing and spending time as acquaintances before, but something quite clearly has changed if you’re behaving differently, leaving you to wonder if she would like an explanation for it – when she’d attempted to make small-talk at times when other demons were nearby, but you would more often than not, run away to avoid saying something you might come to regret in messy tumble of words. Now you were seriously re-considering and actually wondering whether admitting your deepest, inner thoughts out loud to the most powerful creature in Pentagram World would be an intelligent idea.

You find her near the edge of the precipice surrounded by pearly gates with rare sprouting orchids clinging to the metal poles, looking as the burgundy dusk settles and stars decorate in the sky behind the gate. It reminds you of a painting that would otherwise be dull were it not for the subject at the focus point to make it whole. You know exactly what – rather whom, makes it complete.

The weather is usually awful all-year around, but in this time of early night the stars had finally aligned for you. You had acquired the flowers from Alibe, who almost too politely allowed you to pluck them from his houseplant collection it almost seemed a little suspicious, but you barely cared about that then.

Minutes tick by in your head then – you go to approach her, but your footing fails you and you trip over a rock, falling off the hillside. You tumble downwards, painfully faceplanting against the soil-covered ground.

A familiar, concerned voice rings from afar a few seconds later.

“Oh! Oh dear, are you alright?”

Waiting for the vivid distortion to clear from your vision, you look up to see her leaning down, placing her palms on underneath your own to grasp your fingers carefully helping you back to mildly unstable feet.

“I’m alright, i-it didn’t even hurt…”

Not nearly as much as it hurt your dignity – or whatever scraps were left of it anyway. You wince, feeling a killer headache rapidly spreading through your scalp, no doubt a far cry from a developing bruise.

(stupid rock. stupid, stupid hillside. and most importantly – stupid, clumsy you.)

Before the mortifying ordeal of knowing you’d just embarrassed yourself in such manner can sink in, you quickly pick up the flowers, hastily try to wrap them together again to look decent, then extending your hand out.

Her gaze follows your mini-bouquet, observing it with curiosity now.

“Hm? Who are those fo—” the serpent doesn’t get a word in, before you blurt out a confession.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

Covered in layers of dust and dirt from head to toe, you present her with spray made of red carnations. The low whistling of wind only continues to quietly breeze by. You mentally grimace at catching a glimpse of her blinking, being otherwise motionless.

Then she’s frowning.

You feel a pit forming in your stomach, clutching at your insides painfully—

“Dear, your nose is bleeding.”

You nearly gape, tongue stuck at the back of your throat. Sin slithers a bit closer until there’s almost no space left in between bodies.

“Allow me to fix that.” she says and wipes away the blood with a handkerchief kept in a pocket embroidered in her olive cape reaching down long as her hair. Folding the cloth together and putting it away, she places her palm against your temple. It fades away quickly as it merged; pain is no longer coursing through the area from where you hit your head.

(you nearly blush at being tended to like this.)

It’s still a morbid silence that becomes too much for you to bear. You were almost on the brink of wishing the Devil would emerge and slam you six– no, sixty feet deeper into the ground as far as the underworld goes for this foolish act… until Sin extends her arms to take the flowers from you, looking like she wants to say something about it, but an interruption cuts through when one of them begins to blossom and tilt upwards, petals extending, a mouth forming and opening, sinking its razor-like daggers into the serpent lady’s index finger, surprising both you and her.

‘Damn you, Alibe—!’ you curse that doctor in your head for ruining any and all zero point one chances you might have had at that point.

“Oh, what playful ones you are.” The serpent remarks to the plants, not looking deterred in the slightest as she hums a soothing tune to get the red crawlers to calm down, sharp teeth disappearing and eventually reverting to their original state of looking like regular pretty red carnations, petals stopping their shaking.

“Meat-eating plants are quite fascinating, aren’t they? Beautiful in appearance and quite curious in essence, but… they can cause a great deal of hurt if one isn’t aware of their actual, deadly nature.” she says – you swear you see something mischievous in the look she’s giving you, but you can’t decipher what it is.

“Y-Yes, they are certainly a source of interest…” you say, every neuron alert for any potential sign of displeasure, “I thought… you’d like them… maybe.”

“Now… would you like to tell me why have you been running from me as of late every time I try to talk to you?” she inquires, allowing the plants in her hands to now rest idly.

It seems there was no escape after all. You fumble with the hem of your shirt, not sure what to suddenly focus on. You suspect she probably knows your answer already by now, but as you wait a few minutes in silence, you realize she expects you to say it out loud.

“I… I was nervous because you’re the most extraordinary, elegant being in this world and I am just… nothing compared to you. Just one, ordinary blade of grass next to a grand tree that can reach even the far above skies and beyond. I wish I could offer more than what I am, but even that turned out to be a catastrophe in making…” you grumble, recalling that earlier mishap.

Your words cause her to go deep into thought for a minute and you’re anticipating her words.

She speaks again then, “How do you expect me to reciprocate your feelings if you have such a low opinion of yourself?”

You blink, confused at her answer, “I… h-how do you mean?”

“Do you not see yourself as worthy of being in my presence?” she asks, still cradling the gift close in her embrace, whilst her knuckles rest underneath her chin – you see the first sign of displeasure, but not from the actions you’d previously anticipated.

“Um, no, I… I want to feel worthy. I’ve been looking… just observing far too long from a distance, I think my own rotting heart would have turned to dust from inside out if I let this fire in me continue on burning, but now I’m not sure if I should have just let it happen,” you sigh, “I’m sorry for being a bother, but I hope you won’t hold any ill will against me for it… I just needed to get this off my chest.”

Before you allow your own inferiority complex to gnaw away your senses, Sin’s response back to you is almost immediate.

“You may have misunderstood me, it wasn’t my intention at all to dismiss your confession.” she says, with the same gentle voice you’ve become so used to.  She is even smiling with sincerity now.

“Your heart isn’t rotten in any way. In fact, you’re very cute with many things to admire. I know you always speak from the most inner of your soul, and… you should know I’ve reciprocate your feelings from the very beginning, perhaps with even more so the amount of passion you do, if you would allow me to show you more thoroughly, if my words alone are not convincing you.”

You feel foolish to the point you’re only able to quake slightly, swallowing the lump in your throat to clear your voice, “B-But… what about Refi— I mean, the Devil Queen?” you remember to address her with a respectful title for she is still technically your superior, especially in presence of her lawfully-wedded wife.

“I’m sure she won’t mind me having another beloved of my own. After all, love is meant to be shared, whether that’s between two unified persons or more.”

She gestures for you to place your hands towards her, as she hands you one of the very same red carnations you just gifted her.

“I… y-you knew all this time then…?” you accept the flower, holding it within your grasp, wanting to suddenly never let go of it.

“Darling dove, never shy from what your heart desires with this burning, ardent ache. I was wondering if I would have to wait for another eternity for you to approach me again to tell me about this.” she’s jokingly exaggerating her claim, but the words are not lost on you.

“I’m very perceptive of people’s emotions and it’d be sinful of me to lie and say I haven’t had this… desire to keep you all to myself alongside all my other possessions,” she tells you, offering you her hand to take, you swear her eyes are a deeper shade of red than you’ve seen before, “So, how would you like to accept my invitation to accompany me to my garden?”

You don’t need to think over your answer for too long this time.

- : - : -: - : -

(a/n: this is also partially dedicated to Piralos, i don’t know if this was her request but since as an avid Sin worshipper lover, i hope you like this!! 🍷)

[japiform]

Logs: Explain what the fuck he’s talking about

[[mind the tags]]

Helmsman: Have you ever been in a building after it's closed for the night? The darkness? The dead air? The faint feeling of unease, like you're somewhere you shouldn't be? The darkness?

You're the only one there, looking for something. Maybe the way out. Maybe for answers.

Maybe the store hasn't been open for years. The darkness. The overgrown plants, crawling over the ground and walls. The smell of brine. The water in your boots. Are you being watched or is that your imagination? Surely you've already been at this hallway. Did one of the tentacles move? Are you alone?

And finally, you find it. The husk of what was once a man. One who laughed and fought and loved. It's eyes behind the goggles are dark. It's twitching in the hold of the ship. The ship twitches in extension of the man. The darkness.

Are you alone?

Grand: You are not alone, but the atmosphere makes you tense, makes your keen eyes dilate wide to get as much out of the lights you brought as possible. Your boots splash in the salt water, and you wonder where the fuck the rest of the empress's entourage is. Surely she had some sea fucks with her to keep this massive place running.

It isn't important, except that it makes you tell your clowns to keep their guards up as you descend into the bowels of this abandoned place. It's going to take a bit, the empress's ship is so fucking massive. But that's alright. You're patient.

Ish.

Every moment he is off is another moment he could be dead. But at least you know generally where to go. You've been on Her ship before. Though, motherfuck, it was not like this.

When you get to him, you are relieved, motherfuckin gratified to see his form twitching. You hope it's not just some errant tentacle fuckery of the ship, you've never seen one so... overgrown before.

Well. Nothing for it. Give him a little slap on the cheek. "You alive in there motherfucker?"

Helmsman: Static electricity zaps the Grand Highblood's hand, the spot where he touched the Helmsman clammy and hot and viscous, somehow. But the Helmsman's eyes snap open, barely emanating any light at all before they slip closed again, unseeing.

On closer inspection, he's breathing shallowly from dry lips, mustard blood dripping shallowly from every orifice. It looks uh. Bad.

Grand: Ouch. Spicy. Still, the zap, the eyes coming open, the breathing reassure you that this isn't a totally fruitless endeavor.

Still. Oof. That's a big old yikes, you don't know if your mediculler can fix that shit. Ugh, what a mess he is, stubborn bastard. "Aight, where the fuck is my nerd?" You look at the clowns behind you. One of them better have brought the helm tech with them.

Devoteer: The small crowd produces a troll that can be succinctly described as cereal box shaped, and he dips his jagged horns in a sign of reverence towards GHB before fumbling for his toolbag. "If I may, Your Grand Whimsican, this Technicrusher will do everything in my power to preserve the life of this... of the helmstroll, if that pleases you." Behind a faltering, whiny speech is a troll who's had to disconnect many a half-dead helmsman from their block in his time. But the Devoteer has never in his life seen a helmsblock this... overgrown...

Grand: Oh, yep. That's a nerd, you'd know em anywhere. "I want his pump goin and his pan in there fuckin somewhere. Tell us what the fuck to do and we'll get it done. If I've come all this way for him to burn out, imma be real fuckin pissed, you pickin up what i'm puttin down?"

Devoteer: "I am indeed, picking it up, Your Unholiness." You sidle around him and inspect the helmsblock, before plucking a waterproof pen from your bag and marking off some of the smaller tendrils in dark purple. "These are the connections to his cardiovascular system, his life support, and the main nutrition and waste tubes. All the rest need to be cut away- about an inch at least from his body." Looking at the state of his nutrition tubes makes you faintly ill, but you keep the green out of your gills.

"Al- also I'm going to need a small supply of nutritionslurry, high in vitamins, a jar of mind honey, and some cauterizing knives. Is that amenable, High Priest?"

Grand: You click your tongue. "Easy enough, brother mine. I definitely got the last bit, at the very fuckin least." They drop into your hand quick as miracles, and you hand the gruesome weapon/medical tool over. You look over the crowd. "Aight, who brought the nerd?" A motherfucker raises his hand with a wave, clearly not paying that much attention now that his duty's done. "Give him his fuckin goods, what do you need, an invitation??? Mind honey. Nutrition slurry." You snap a few times, and the goody bag gets passed forward like you're in fuckin schoolfeeding. Whatever, if it works.

"That gonna do you aight, or are we gonna need someone ta go shoppin?"

Devoteer: "This is perfect, Beloved Dreamer. I'm going to need some space." You put your goggles on, and get the fuck to work. It's incredibly loud and messy, the knife slicing through tendrils like a hot blade through butter. Which is basically what it is. Pieces of helmsblock go flying as you shear it away, leaving something that looks a little less like a H.R.Giger painting and more like a person.

Wiping your hands clean with a microfiber cloth, you take the vials and hook the Helmsman up to a rudimentary IV drip, methodical as always. "Now um. A-as soon as the honey enters it's system it's going to become a bit of a lightshow in here, but it'll keep it's psionics cycling until it stabilizes. Be careful removing it, it's limbs are. Rather delicate."

Grand: Oh yes, the smell of burning flesh. Acrid, meaty enough to make you hungry, smoky enough to make you sneeze. You aren't sure how the rest of your mirthful are taking it, because you're definitely not paying attention, but you're vaguely interested enough in the work to observe the whole time, make sure he isn't taking unnecessary risks with your prize.

"Damn, we love a light show," you look over at your clown friends (turns out they weren't all doing the best), and get a few nods. "Quick question though, brother. How likely are his limbs to be any use, and what's the risks in not givin a shit?"

Devoteer: You give them one look and shake your head. "Even if, er, they weren't looking due for sepsis, it would take a real medical miracle for them to be of any use again, sir." They're uh. More hole than flesh, to put it lightly.

Grand: "Sick. May as well take em off and not deal with the hassle then, gimme that knife brother," you hold out your hand so you can get your tools back. You don't know if this fucker knows how to carve through bone instead of helm tentacle, but you sure the fuck do.

... Might wanna wait for that light show though.

Devoteer: You hand him the knife and step back into the crowd just as the Helmsman stirs, sparks beginning to crackle around the goggles as his eyes open just a sliver. And then the screaming starts, teeth bared as red and blue light fills the large room in a one-troll supernova.

It's only for a few seconds though, before it starts winding down as the psionics cycle erratically. His specially made goggles- the one thing between him and GHB being a pile of troll shaped ash- crack under the display of pure uncontrolled psionics.

The air is sharp with the smell of ozone.

Grand: Oh, that's neat, isn't it? Look at him go, he's like a one man firecracker. You grin big and wide at the sight, let him run himself out, and hope he isn't going to be choking on blood from screaming.

Alright, let's get this shit done quick. You step up into his shit and start cutting away tentacle and limb alike, until he is a lump of torso, head, hair, and probably just... so much rot. Just, an unfortunate amount of rot. You'll take the effort to make sure you cut as much of the sepsis as possible without getting to his innards, but.... Eh. That's about all you can be bothered with. You'll just make sure the medicullers go real hard on the germ killin shit, so he don't rot much more.

Dumbass motherfucker.

Helmsman: The screaming has become coughing, before he settles down with a whimper, curling into himself now that he isn't forced upright by the helmsblock. For how tall of a troll he once was, he looks small. Maybe he'd always been a small troll, under all the sass and vitriol and power.

It's hard to say.

Grand: ... Ain't that almost sweet... You hold him close, fully aware he could vaporize you if you're not careful with them damn glasses, but still finding it a bit...

Somethin. You can't say. Sad, maybe. Pathetic.

Any fuckin way. No need to linger. "Aight, motherfuckers. Job well done, head the fuck out, don't trip on tentacles or i'll make ya the butt of the next sweep a jokes. Keep ya eyes peeled, but i doubt there'll be much else excitin." There's a few laughs, a few groans of disappointment, but they do as you say, because you are fuckin king.

... And the king's gonna need a shower after this, because this battery is decidedly rank.

One step at a time, though. No need goin quick and jostlin all his lively bits until he ain't got no life left in him. One step at a motherfuckin time.

Helmsman: Despite the chill of GHB's skin, Helmsman takes comfort in it, craving any amount of warmth against his feverish form. As he tucks himself as close and comfortable as possible, the ship around the parade of clowns becomes even darker, emergency lights flickering off as the biggest asset to the empire goes silent.

Behind his eyes, the Helmsman fitfully dreams of being swallowed by a goat the size of a sun.

Grand: At least, finally, he can be completely asleep.

[dollsted]

Title: Black Pearl Rating: M (nsfw) Characters: reader, sans, Wingdings, papyrus, Jukin, lucious  Source: a03 (archive of our own)  Author: F0rce0fnatur3 

Plot: You the reader are about to go on an adventure to the underground. You don’t necessarily have a good home life but even so you weren’t expecting what happens to actually change it so drastically! When you come out the other side you weren’t expecting to wake up after your harrowing escape, in the Gaster Brothers home.

                           B     L     A     C     K   |    P     E     A     R     L

You open your eyes and as you do so there’s a nagging throbbing rage against your skull. Your cheek is pressed against something soft while your fingers confirm that its a pillow elevating your head from the mattress you’ve been propped upon. Three days ago you were back in your world with your normal life going about your business. Three days ago everything was perfectly fine and you took back all the times you silently wished your life would be more adventurous. You really had only meant that you wanted to go somewhere. That was the most daring thing you really wanted in your life. Not what actually ended up happening. You roll to your back and trace with your eyes the shape of the bars leading up to a circular top like a firework in reverse as you spiral your eyeballs around the circular shape overhead and count all thirty three of the bars banning you from escaping. The steel is strong, you’ve tried more than once to bend them with whatever strength you could muster on three days without food.

A giant birdcage wasn’t the conventional cell you thought you would be subjected too and yet here you were. The fairy lights or as other people referred to them as garden lights are looped around the very top. The height of the cage was at least ten feet high and out of your reach. Lazily you flop your hand above your face as far as the length of your arm can extend and trace the shape of the looped lights and mentally scoff at the attempt to make your jail cell “pretty” and non threatening. When your arm gets tired you let it fall over your stomach. You let your leg dangle off the edge of the bed and look around your little enclosure. A dresser, a bathroom with a little curtain for privacy, a small bookcase with titles that you’ve never heard of. You utter aloud just to have something other than silence as you mockingly joke about there not being a perch for you to swing on or newspaper lining the bottom so you can shit anywhere you like.

Back and forth your leg swings while your toes meet the floor every-now-and-then before your dull entertainment passes and you grow bored. You switch to rolling over onto your stomach looking out through the bars. The room you’re in but not allowed to frequent is a dome like grand open scoop. There are no windows, only overhead lights as if you’re in an opera stage minus the incline of said stage, and seats for an audience. There are a pair of doors which are always closed and evidently heavy given the thickness of the wood. There are carvings in the oak but its hard to register from this distance. Your cage is stationed in the far right corner of this huge room and you often inspect it taking in the details. The cobblestone fireplace always has a cackling fire which helps break the silence when he’s not around to bother you with awkward praises. You look from the mantle to the red leather chair aimed in your direction and next to the fire. It’s his favorite spot to plop down into when he strides in to gawk at you. You skip looking at the black and white tiled floor. For some reason the lack of bright light makes you feel a bit dizzy when observing it and so you go back to the bookcase. The room seems like a study to you and you wonder why he decided putting a human woman in here in a giant ass bird cage prison would be just the cherry on top of the minimal decor.

The rotten apple from two days ago has lost its luster and the single bite you took out of it is already bruised and rotting. The tender tan flesh has browned and the sheen of red has wrinkled and withered into a leathery texture which you ran your finger over just a day ago to give yourself something to do other than increase your anxiety in the situation at hand.

“You’re going to go out of your mind if you keep sticking to those habits you know.”

Your surly friend with an oddly deep voice for being something so small, casually chides you from above. You tilt your head to look past the slit in the bars above your head moving away from the circular topping of the cage to the butt of the one suspended just above yours dangling from the ceiling. You only have had this view unless you stand and your little companion stands to look down at you. You can however, see his weblike toes extended from between the bars suspending themselves in the air as he lays upon his back with his arms behind his small head and leisurely has one leg crossed over the other. You discovered him after you were thrown in here and the endless weeping caused him to peep up and bark at you to desist. Since then your ill mannered friend and you have engaged in conversation whenever one of you wasn’t weak enough to do so. It wasn’t long until the pair of you got to the topic of how each of you came to be here came up. Two days later you develop a small kinship given the parallels of your predicaments. His abode is much smaller in size than yours making it seem like a palace, but his stature also seems to fit inside perfectly despite when he elongates to stretch and his feet stick out like this.

Supposedly the amphibious looking creature suspended above your palace was a highly regarded doctor that bordered on doing some questionable things during his practice. He went against a high order that was delivered to him months ago refusing to carry out the mad monsters wishes and landed himself in this tiny little apartment as he liked to call it. You found the overall description vague and feigned reluctance when speaking with him while the back part of your brain wondered if he was terrible like some of the doctors you heard about in your world. Did he tear people apart? Was he experimenting like the mad scientist in Frankenstein? He puts on a nonchalant facade but you can tell just by the small growls in the night he’s starving. Trays are brought to you in three square meals which you refuse to eat until you’re set free and only a bit of scraps once a day if the attendants don’t forget are offered to the doctor above. You were instructed specifically not to share any of your meals with him for all the meals and scraps are recorded before going in and what’s left when coming out. Yet somehow you managed to tell them you wanted to keep the apple. Just in case.

You scoop up the rotting fruit while carefully balancing on the flat surface of the dresser praying it doesn’t concave under your weight. Once you find your center you still barely touch the top of the bars even with the apple extended upon your fingertips.

“Here, Jukin.”

You watch as his foot gets slurped into the cage and out of your view. Seconds later one of his eerily long limbs comes down to meet you in he middle and easily slips his long arm and fingers into your sanctuary curling them around the morsel. You notice he has the same color stripes of black and white on his arm as the flooring. You can hear him taking small bites to savor each nourishment and he doesn’t thank you. The crude creature never does but you know he appreciates this small act of kindness despite the knuckle wrapping you’re sure you’ll get later. You dismount from the pedestal easing back into the carpeted cage floor stretching out your own limbs to keep the circulation flowing. You’d rather not have your muscles turn to jelly should your prediction of being here for awhile come to fruition. After a good half hour and the last joyous sounds of crispy bites subsides Jukin decides he has enough strength to chat.

“That thing was rotten you know.”

“Only half of it,” you rebuttal. “I didn’t hear you complaining either. I bet you’re sucking on the seeds right now.”

The creature crunches in response spewing the seed in the opposite corner of your confines. Then waves a second one outside the cage letting you know he’s about to pop the second one into his mouth. You roll your eyes.

“You could have given it to me sooner before the rot set in, or perhaps even had the conviction not to take a heaping bite out of it to start the decomposition process.”

“I would suffice a thank you. But if you must know I had a small moment of weakness.”

“Clearly.” Out come his toes as he wriggles them and assumes his natural position of laying back.

“I don’t know how you can stand being in something so small and not get the urge to move around.”

“Focus is an easily accessible trait my dear and it all stems from being able to tap into that part of your brain in order to use it. If I think the pain away then it stays away.” You roll your eyes again rolling back into bed.

“I’m going to sleep now so don’t be too loud when spitting the seeds out.” At this, it prompts the creature to poke his head out and down peering directly into your cage. You meet his half lidded gaze and watch the abnormally large lips of the frog-like creature speak. The tiers seem to be a pale pink and the only color on the being that has the height of a toddler yet its body is small and limbs long and slender. You can see the brown sphere firmly in the corner part of his mouth, teeth firmly grinding against the hard shell.

“If only this was a beetle.” He contrived before concerting to your request to quiet down in order to let you sleep. You shutter at the gross imagery and close your eyes slipping away from the confines of your cage and find freedom in your dreams.

———————————————————————————————————

When you rouse the next morning you drift back to four days ago before the abduction replaying everything that transpired. Perhaps you were feeling sentimental when you opened your eyes this morning but as you rewind the tape you try not to create scenarios where you actually escape. You have to revisit the truth. Even if your brain wants to correct the story of what really happened. Even if it was ugly you have to revisit it. You steal the few moments you have before the attendants will walk into your room and set down a tray you wont touch, before Jukin rouses from his own dreamland and bothers you with morning ramblings. But your thoughts slip further back and you let it all play out on its own.

                                                                               .          .          .

Three years ago you still lived with your mother. It was five years since your dad had passed away and only two years after his passing that your mother moved on and married an arrogant prick. With this prick came an entitled pampered little princess that you were meant to call stepsister all thanks to the marriage that bound you to the asshole. Her own mother ran off and left her rotten daughter and disgusting husband behind as she fled somewhere out of state. Since then you’ve been wishing and praying that your eighteenth birthday will free you of this play happy pretend family torment and you can painfully detach from them and flee just like the sensible ex wife had. Last year you graduated and couldn’t move out of there fast enough, your mother was heart broken about the decision for you to dorm immediately at the college you studied so hard to get into since the entrance of dick one and dick two came into your life. Your own heart aches that you’re leaving her behind but if he makes her happy who were you to ruin that opportunity for someone you loved so dearly?

Enter four days ago when the father who never disciplined the now fourteen year old girl who had more gadgets and things stocked in her room than a Best Buy demands you bring her some weird Greek type of ice cream that’s mad expensive. You cant say no because if you do she’ll suddenly become a daddy’s girl and pout and cry until she got her way and it would just result in a terrible headache for you. You were there solely to visit your mother and had thought those two were going to be on an outing during the time it would take for you to get a good catchup in but found out they came back because one of their batteries died on the way and they forgot to bring the car charger. So you were stuck playing happy family until your stepsister cornered you when you escaped up to the bathroom and with half hooded eyes glued to her phone screen explained in a flat monotone way that if you didn’t get her ice cream then she was going to throw a fit. So you went. During this time your mother and her husband went to run to the grocery store when he decided it was going to be a good idea to have a cookout in celebration of your return. You wince as his stare lingers a little too long over you and that’s when you made a B-line to the bathroom in an attempt to right yourself.

Luckily there was a quick corner store that you went to knowing your mother and the husband would go thirty minutes out of their way just to get these quality items and maybe knowing your mom just get a few things she needed grocery-wise while they were perchance there already.

You chuck the stupid item into the dual freezer slash fridge and trudge up the steps to inform her highness that you indeed got the snack she so rudely desired when you feel an odd tingling sensation against your skin. You have an overwhelming sensation that someone else is in the house besides the brat camped out upstairs in her room. It’s eerily quiet and normally in the past you know if it was just the two of you at home she would have her music blaring. Yet the absence of it now sends warning shocks throughout your body. It isn’t like her not to have on something even if she had it on a lower setting. So you silently stalk up to her room making sure you avoid the creaking wood under the carpeted stairs. You make your footfalls invisible and the door to her room is open just a sliver. You can see the vibrant overly saturated pink of her walks and bedding glaring at you from the fairy lights strewn around the edges of her cubic squared room. You don’t realize you’re on your hands and knees inching closer rather than on your feet like a normal unafraid human being but as you get closer you notice that her room is a mess. Not the typical teenager mess either, things disheveled and knocked over. She would never allow her precious stereo to have fallen and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. This throws you to your feet and you call out her name. Frantically you shuck off the fact that there’s a potential intruder and curse the fact that you let that little girl dictate what you do. You should have been here to protect her. You should’ve stood your ground and told her no and just camp out in the living room. You were gone for five minutes. Maybe six since you literally timed yourself and that’s all it would take for someone to get in here and snatch a ninety pound girl up.

You scope the entire room for any sign she might be hiding or the intruder still being there and it’s blatantly easy to see the normally hidden spaces like the closet or under the bed have been shoved open and the covers from the bed thrown onto the ground. Then you feel it again. That same tingling sensation as before. You try to quiet your irregular panting and stay still so you can hear the sounds of creaking. But you only hear a high pitched whine of resistance of the door behind you as it closes slowly and gently. Someone is behind you. You turn your head as the back of the door reveals the figure that was hiding there. Lurking and waiting until you stupidly came in. But—-this isn’t a normal hooded figure in dark garbs or a human man. You’re confronted with a giant wolf-like creature waiting in the pit of the shadows of the room. The lights begin flickering and you can feel the air around you change. What was this? You take steps back and feel wind where this is no possible source for it to get in especially on this dry summer day. You take slow steps back and despite the utter fear seizing all your nerves causing you to shake uncontrollably you feel the instinct to protect that bratty teenager you’ve known for three years.

You confront the thing. You demand to know where she is. You take in its appearance. It has a wolfs head and yet the eyes almost seem human with the brown hue gleaming in the fizzled lights shining above casting devious shadows. You look at the plume of fur that disappears beneath a neatly pressed suit and matching black pants. The brown Oxford shoes are a blend of black and red complimenting  his tie and is the only colorful thing on this monster. How can this thing be dressed like a human and walking on two legs? You look to the hands which remind you of werewolf hands. They aren’t condensed like a regular wolfs paw and yet it too is covered in silky strands of fur but then your eyes go to the black pearled daggers upon its fingertips and you gulp as they slickly gleam like the hide of a snakeskin under the florescent lights. Even the undershirt seems to be clad black with pearl buttons carefully buttoned.

Like the scoop of a ravens wing those eerie claw-like fingers span in menacing formation outstretched ready to grab you in those terrible talons getting closer to you. Your only escape is a window that would take time to open and even then you’re looking at a three story jump which will result in broken bones, the door that the terrifying figure is occupying would surely result in your capture. But those are your two options unless you can somehow master the art of supernatural powers and phase through the figure to your freedom down the hallway. He lunges, you evade by scrambling onto the bed to create some distance in this small span of space and your eyes focus on the door. You spring from the other side but there’s a death lock on your ankle which causes you to fall short and you cushion your fall by landing face first into the toppled blankets pooled at the end of the bed. You wrench your leg trying to get away from the deep reverberating cackle of the monster knowing he’s got you.

The wind you felt earlier picks up and you fail to find the source of where its coming from. One of her headbands rolls across the floor, your eyes follow it as its sucked into the...closet? It’s definitely the source, you can feel the vacuum of what you can only rationalize is a portal? All the contents inside the closet jostle wildly as if its own personal hurricane is occurring in the walk in space. Even you can feel the pull from seven feet away. You have to get away, you’ve got to make sure the brat is safe, you have to call the police or...animal control to put this thing away far from you.

You pull away and in the same motion the being is upon you, pinning you down as his massive lanky form hovers over you pressing your chest into the carpet suffocating the air from your lungs. It seizes your wrists and the only thing you can manage to move are your legs which you flail until you stub your toe on the metal base of the bed and cry out. It’s muzzle comes in closer contact with your ear causing further discomfort when the hot breath of the predator encases the entire side of your head. You’ve never heard a deeper timbered voice as the one gruffly growling against the shell of your ear.

“Caught you little rabbit.” The monster purrs sweetly into your ear making your skin absolutely crawl. Your instincts kick in and you need to get to that door, that’s your focal point and even if you lose a limb you have to get to it. It is your means of freedom. It all comes crumbling down when the monster easily lifts you to your feet wrenching your arms behind your back in an uncomfortable twist of pain that shoots down to your fingertips. You look to the window hoping your screams can reach past the streets to the close knit neighbors that are blissfully unaware of the supernatural predicament happening across the way.

The portal like structure quivers and something in the pit hums as the wolf creature drags you over to the closet. Dread fills every fiber of your being and it is vital that these last few seconds you fight even if it costs you. You try to unknot your limbs in a natural way to regain them without the casualty of a broken arm but the being merely shifts tactics wrangling you in a different manner. A fistful of hair is all it takes for your compliance as it painfully resists being yanked out of your head.

Entering a different dimension isn’t as painful as you anticipated. The movies got it wrong. It’s like going through a simple archway and stepping through the other side. And here you thought due to the force of the windstorm you were going to expect something terrible like the very atoms of your matter coming apart and re-stitching back together. Maybe you’d lose and eye coming out the other side. But you blink and its over. The ripples in the air subside until finally it dissipates altogether.

———————————————————————————————————

And that’s how it happened. Soon after you were shut into this room and after the first day you watched as your abductor casually strolled in, perched in his favorite armchair and watched you for at least an hour before introducing himself.

There’s a famous saying here that you’ve heard more than once from both the wolf and the doctor.

“I am Lucius. I am a monster as you well know. No I am not a lycanthrope or werewolf. Yes, I can alter my appearance to look human but I cannot maintain it for more than a day. We have rules and regulations here just as your realm does. And by all means should you feel the need to escape do so at your own risk. But outside of my manor are monsters and murderers just waiting to tear that beautiful flesh apart. You are certainly safer in here then you are out there. This cage is for my aesthetic as well as your protection from the hungry things that lurk outside the garden of my estate. You are mine now and I own you. Don’t worry about your sister I delivered her safely upon the orders of a high paying buyer. Just so we’re clear if you also feel the need to rescue her, just know she’s probably already dead. So. Now that that’s cleared up I bid you a good night.” He stands and you watch through bleary eyes as his distorted wobbly figure gets to the large wooden doors but he pauses and looks back at you and grins...yes wolfishly.

“Oh, and welcome to the underground.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 12: Fairy Tale of New York

Summary: In the run up to the Festive Period, Katie presents the Publishing Company proposal to the Stark Industries board, and our favourite couple spend their first Christmas together in New York. New Years eve is welcomed in with a bang at a Stark Industries Gala and Steve’s simply happy he has his girl by his side...

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: SMUT (NSFW!) So over 18s only please. And some teeth rotting fluff… and LANGUAGE

A/N: 

There is a smutty little companion piece to this called Love In An Elevator which sits as part of the Stark Spangled Kinks little mini series and expands a little bit more on the events before and after the New Years Gala. 

December 2013

Steve loved his girl. He would die for her if he had to, without a second thought. But the one thing he dreaded above everything was the thought of shopping, not least as it was the middle of December. Frankly, when she was shopping for herself Katie was a nightmare. Not on purpose, she was just so indecisive about whatever she was looking for, insisting that things made her look too wide hipped, short, big assed, big chested (which he’d told her cheekily wasn’t the clothes fault she had good assets which had earned him a slap around the back of the head). It was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, and he had no idea why she was so insecure as frankly she was gorgeous and would stop a room if she walked in wearing a sack.

“You don’t need to come!” she chuckled at him, shoving on her jacket “I know I’m a pain in the ass and it’ll take me ages, plus it will be busy as it’s nearly Christmas.” “You sure?”

“Yeah.” she smiled, dropping her arms round his shoulders from behind the sofa, her hands coming to rest on his chest. “I just need a break from that damned proposal and to be honest, I only make you come so you can carry my bags.” “Nice to see I have my uses” he said sarcastically, rolling his head round so he could catch her lips.

“Well it makes me feel special.” she said, shrugging as she straightened up.

And damned it, after she’d said that, how could he not go?

“You know what, it’s fine. I’ll come. Give me a second.” he said with a slight sigh, and when he glanced at her he noticed her turn around with a smirk on her face and he knew then he’d been played, well and truly.

“You’re so full of shit…” he said, shaking his head as she laughed whilst he went to retrieve his boots.

2 hours later he was beginning to regret his utter lack of ability to resist her charms. She was still flapping about her New Year’s Eve outfit for the Stark Industries Ball, worse than she normally did Steve noted. 6 dresses she had tried on. 6 and she hated every one. Deciding enough was enough, instead of letting her walk into the next shop he’d tugged her hand, his strength easily keeping her from following her intended path and pulled her up the escalator to the fancy, pretentious champagne bar that was placed on the floor overlooking the lower floors of the City Centre mall.

“Why can’t I find anything that looks good?” She muttered as he slid a glass of Bollinger over to her, handing his card to the bar tender.

“Katie, stop it.” he said, looking at her where she was perched next to him at the bar. “All of them looked great.” “You’d say that no matter what.” she looked at him, and she couldn’t help but smile at the affection on his face.

“Because it’s true.” he smirked taking a pull of his beer “But if you want my opinion the red one was my favourite.” And it was. It was a scarlet colour, straight cut satin number, which clung to every delectable curve of her body, flashing a peep of leg through the thigh high split on the right hand side, not to mention the neckline and back. It was a halter-neck with a cowl at the front giving a subtle flash of cleavage and left her upper back was bare. It was demure enough to keep most of what was underneath it to the imagination, yet also flashed enough skin to make him feel slightly warm every time he looked at her. When he’d seen her walk out of the changing room it, it had almost made his mouth water, and it had definitely made his trousers feel tighter

“The Galliano one?” she asked.

“If that was the red one.” he shrugged, he had no idea about designers or makes.

“Hmmm.” she said, contemplating what he said as Steve thanked the bar tender and signed his name on the check with a flourish. He didn’t even look at how ludicrously expensive the champagne and his fancy European lager was. He didn’t care, he earned enough from SHIELD to treat his girl every once in a while. In fact he decided then he wanted to buy her the dress too.

“Let me buy it for you.” he said softly.

“What?” She frowned “Don’t be stupid, not like I can’t afford it.” “That isn’t the point.” he sighed, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness. “I’d like to.” She eyed him for a moment before she smiled and reached out to gently brush his cheek with her hand “Ok thank you.” Well that had been easier than he had anticipated. Normally she argued like hell about paying for things, be it takeout, food, meals, dates. Instead, she leaned over to give him a soft peck on the lips and he smiled back. But then another frown creased her brow and she was back to brooding again. No, there was something bothering her.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” he said gently, his hand landing on her knee.

Katie looked up at him, before she sighed “I’m nervous.” “About the pitch?”

She nodded. And she was. She had been working on the Presentation and Business Plan for the Publishers since Thanksgiving. The Business Plan had been submitted to the board two days ago, and she was due to give the Presentation tomorrow morning. She had hoped that shopping for a new power suit and a dress for New Year’s would distract her for a few hours. It hadn’t.

“Doll, you’ve been working on it for weeks. Pepper says it’s great, even Tony didn’t find anything to pick holes in.” he said, soothingly.

“I just…I want everyone to vote on it because it’s a good idea, not just because of who I am.” she said softly, “You know?” “And they will. Honestly, you’re over thinking and over worrying. You’re going to smash it.”

He watched as a small smile tugged at her lips “You and your sudden obsession with street lingo…”

“What?” he frowned, mock annoyance on his face “Can’t Captain America be down with the kids?” “Ok, I never want to hear you say that, ever again.” she chuckled and he grinned. “Oh, but speaking of Kids…are you gonna make the Foundation Party?”

Steve took a deep breath. The Stark Foundation apparently hosted a yearly Christmas Party at the tower for local children who were either ill or in the care system. Last year’s hadn’t gone ahead on account of Tony’s near mental breakdown-slash-terrorist problem but this year they were full steam ahead. Tony would be there in his Iron Man get up, Katie as well (she loved everything about the party) and she’d asked Steve if he would mind coming along. And he didn’t mind per-se, it was just the idea of 50 kids running around that invited utter chaos.

“I’m gonna try.” he said, honestly. “As long as there’s no missions that go off.”

“Well don’t worry if you can’t” she said, smiling “We’re not telling the kids you are anyway, so if you turn up it will be like Santa himself has arrived. Only in a different suit. And with a shield not a sack.”

Steve let out a chortle before he dropped a kiss to her head “Ok Cinders, let’s go get your dress then we can go home, eat junk and watch trash.”

“You know how to spoil a lady.” Katie smirked, and Steve flashed her a grin, not least because he knew it was her favourite thing to do in the world.

***** Katie took a deep breath as she sat in Pepper’s office. She’d landed in New York little over an hour ago and was now nervous as hell. Really nervous. Steve had assured her she would be fine as he had dropped her at the airfield to catch the jet over. He had assured her she would be fine when he kissed her goodbye. He had assured her she would be fine when she landed and received his text message. And all that amounted to was the fact she now thought Steve was an optimistic fool because she was not fine. She was shitting herself.

“You ready?” Pepper asked as she walked into her office, effortlessly business-like but graceful as always.

“No.” Katie said honestly, looking up from where she had been sat reading over her cue cards again.

“Well, we’re about to start.” she smiled “I put you on first so you can concentrate on the rest of the board meeting once you’ve pitched.” Katie nodded and stood up, smoothing down her pencil skirt. “Ok, let’s get it over with.” She followed Pepper down to the Boardroom and stepped inside where one of the Interns was setting up the screen to the right. She smiled at the other members of the Board, all who she knew by name and took a seat to the right of Tony who held the head of the table, Pepper sitting opposite her to his left.

“You got this Kiddo.” Tony leaned over to whisper in her ear before he sat up “Alright Ladies and Gents, the last Board meeting of 2013…”

Katie listened as Tony spoke and then Pepper outlined the agenda and then way too fast she was being invited to speak. She stood up, cleared her throat, looked at the Presentation, to her cards and then froze before she smiled gently.

“You know what…” She said, looking round “I had a huge, posh presentation prepared but I know you’ve read all the statistics and the numbers” she took a deep breath and tossed her cue cards down on the table “So I’m gonna speak from my heart and share my vision…or in Tony’s words, I’m winging it….” Tony leaned back in his chair and watched as his sister held the room, occasionally glancing at Pepper who was smiling proudly. Katie spoke articulately, clearly but most of all passionately. He could tell that most of the board members were with her, the only one that was going to be an ass-hat about it was Jeremy Saul, their Finance Director. He had been the only one that had questioned the viability of Katie’s desire to go for un-published, un-known authors. Her proposal and vision wasn’t about making as much profit as possible, it was about encouraging talent.

“I just have one question…” Jeremy leaned back in his chair and Tony sat up, stroking his beard as he looked at the man who was staring up at his sister. Katie turned her gaze to him.

“By all means, please Mr Saul.” 

Arse-Saul more like… “I’ve read the business plan. You don’t intend to turn a profit for the first year…” he said, “And even after that you don’t seem to be focussed on any kind of margins or return on sales whatsoever.” “That’s correct.” Katie said

“Well, forgive me for asking but what benefit will this bring to Stark Industries from a money perspective?” Katie took a deep breath, and glanced at Tony who had arched his eyebrow. She could tell he was thinking the same thing as her - ‘Dickhead’.

“The same benefit the Stark Relief Fund brings. The same benefit the Stark Foundation brings.” Katie said, taking a deep breath “I’m not going to lie, my vision isn’t about profiteering. It’s about giving a springboard to those Authors who, like JK Rowling have had every door so far slammed in their faces.” she looked around the room remembering Peppers’ advice- Enthuse, engage, engross. “Granted, in the future it would be nice to have a decent turn over, and I don’t want to run at a loss. I’m a firm believer I can make it breakeven in the first 2 years as the numbers show, and the remaining 3 on the 5 year plan show a return on sales of just over 5%.”

“5% isn’t a huge amount.” Saul looked at Katie and she nodded.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But you know as well as I do that Stark Industries turns over a ludicrous amount of money every year so it doesn’t need another section which turns over profits in excess of 30%. That isn’t my vision here, and that’s not what setting up Stark Independent Publishing is about.”

Saul nodded and scribbled down something on his note pad and looked to Pepper who was leading the meeting to show he had no more questions.

Katie took a deep breath, thanked everyone for their time and sat down.

“Ok, let’s take a break.” Pepper said, glancing around the room “Grab a coffee, back here in 10 minutes for the Contract Status review.” she shot Katie a large smile as she stood up and walked out of the large Oak doors.

“Kiddo…” Tony leaned over as the various board members started to move about and chatter amongst themselves “You crushed it.”

Katie smiled at her brother as he squeezed her shoulder before standing up and shrugging on his jacket.

“Think that calls for a drink…hey, Pepper, can we…”

His voice trailed off as the boardroom door shut, leaving Katie alone. Leaning back in her chair she allowed herself a smile. That hadn’t gone too bad after all.

*****

Steve looked over to where his phone was placed on the bench by the side of the gym for what felt like the one hundredth time since midday. The meeting should be over by now.

“Expecting a call?” Natasha drawled as she sent a right hook his way which he dodged.

“It’s Katie’s pitch today.” he said, jabbing back with a forearm throw which Natasha easily twirled under “I thought it would be done by now.” In all honesty he wasn’t nervous. He knew she’d got this, the passion and the detail she’d put into it made it impossible for her not to. He’d told her as much when she’d zipped up that delectable grey pencil skirt over dark black tights and shrugged on a silky black blouse that morning after her shower. He’d told her as much when he’d kissed her goodbye at the air field. He’d told her as much when he had messaged her later that morning.

But he still wanted to know she was ok.

“The Publishing thing?” Nat asked and Steve nodded as they circled on another. “She’s a Stark, what she gotta pitch for?”

“There’s an entire board.” Steve said. “She can’t vote on it as it’s a conflict of interest. So even if Tony votes, his 35% isn’t enough against the boards 30% to hold a true majority. She needs them both onside.” “Huh.” Nat said, “No wonder you’re distracted.” “I’m not…” he began but in a swoop Natasha had his legs from under him, knee pressed against his throat, a shit eating grin spread across her face as he rolled his eyes.

“Wanna finish that sentence?” she smirked.

He took a deep breath as she stood up and then his phone began to ring. He effortlessly rolled out of Natasha’s light hold and crossed the room to pick it up.

“Hey doll.” he said, smiling. “How did it go?” “Well…” Katie began to talk, and Steve had to strain to hear her voice over the noise in the background, noise that sounded like a bar. “It could have gone worse…” “But it couldn’t have gone much better either Spangles…” Tony added from the back ground “She was fucking amazing.” “Told you.” Steve grinned, giving Natasha the thumbs up.

“Tony’s being premature.” she said “We won’t know if they’re going to agree until the end of the year but he insisted we come out for drinks anyway.”

“Pssht” Tony said in the background. “It’s nearly Christmas, can’t I treat my little sister to an afternoon on the Pier…hey, yeah can I get a…”

Steve smiled as the noise started to die down a little, Katie having moved to find a quieter spot.

“So it went well?” “Yeah. Was pointless me spending so much time on my presentation though.” she laughed “I didn’t use it in the end, went for the tried and tested Stark format of winging it.”

Steve let out a chuckle and looked back at Natasha who was watching him, an odd smirk on her face “I’m pleased it went well honey but I gotta go. I gotta finish this sparring session then I have one of those damned videos to film…” “What is it today?” Katie asked, and he could her the grin in her voice as she dropped it to mimick his own “’So, you had your first wet dream?’”

“Punk.” he shot immediately and she let out a laugh.

“Jerk”

****

“Ok, so, we all set?” Tony said, stepping forward and examining his repulsor gauntlets.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Katie said, straightening the Nova Star shaped buckle on her utility belt.

“Let’s just stick to the plan.” Steve looked to Katie on his right, then Tony on his left before focusing on the door in front “One group each…no distractions.”

The siblings nodded and Steve stepped forward, opening the large door. They were instantly hit with a barrage of noise as 45 kids swamped the 3 Avengers. But it was a small, olive-skinned, ebony haired girl that reached Katie first, and she bent down beaming.

“Emmy!” Katie said, pulling the small girl into a hug “Wow, you’ve gotten so big!”

“I’m 6 now.” Emmy said proudly, flashing a grin. Her front tooth was missing.

“No.” Katie shook her head “uh-uh, no way.” “I am.”

“You’re catching me up!”

Emmy let out a giggle and Katie stood up, glancing over at where Tony and Steve were surrounded by little people, all of them bouncing up and down.  Emmy, however, hung back slightly as the other children all pushed forward to hug or see Iron Man or Captain America, and she gripped Katie’s leg tighter.

“You ok?” she glanced down at the little girl who clung to her leg as she nodded.

“I want to meet Captain America.” she said quietly. “He’s your boyfriend.” “He is.” Katie nodded “Come on, I’ll take you.” Emmy took Katie’s hand and they crossed the room to where the crowd had now dispersed, the kids being shepherded into the various groups for the annual tour round the tower, which was basically one huge big supervised treasure hunt where each of them came back holding the latest games console or tablet depending on their age.

“Captain…” Katie said and Steve frowned, turning round, it had been a while since she had called him that, well outside of the bedroom anyway. As he looked at her, the tell tale flush spread up her neck into her face and he knew she’d had the same thought. Ignoring the heat in his own cheeks he looked at her and watched as she gently moved her gloved hand to the back of the dark haired girl’s head, as the kid’s hand curled round Katie’s. Her large, brown eyes glanced up at Steve shyly. “There’s someone here that wants to meet you.”

Steve smiled, his head devoid of his helmet, and he crouched down in front of the small girl as Katie did the same, dropping to her level. “Hi.” he greeted her.

“Hi…” she said softly “My name’s Emily.” “Emily, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled at her

“My friends call me Emmy.” she nodded.

“Can I call you Emmy?” Steve asked.

The small girl seemed to ponder for a second before she looked at Katie then back to Steve “Katie calls me Emmy. And as you’re her boyfriend I suppose that would be ok.” Steve looked at Katie who was biting her lip to stop herself from laughing and he nodded at the small girl, a smile crossing his face “Well how’s about you call me Steve then, but we keep it to ourselves. Only you and the grown ups can call me that today.”

“Mr Stark calls you Cap.” Emmy said, frowning.

“Yeah, he said grown ups.” Katie smiled “Tony is not a grown up.” Emmy let out a giggle “you’re silly Katie.” “She is.” Steve nodded and Katie stuck out her tongue  and crossed her eyes causing the small girl to laugh even harder.

“Emmy!” one of the attendees from the home called and beckoned her over “Come on or you’ll miss the treasure hunt.”

Emmy threw her arms round Steve and he momentarily paused before he gave her a hug before she ran off to join her peers.

“She’s cute…” he said, looking to Katie as they both stood up.

“Yeah I now you’re not supposed to have favourites but…” Katie sighed “I met her when she was 18 months old. She’s adorable.” “What’s her story?” Steve asked.

“Her mom died when she was 3 months old.” Katie sighed, watching as the kids were organised into a line “There were complications at birth that she never recovered from. Her dad then killed himself a few weeks later. She had no other family who were willing to take her in so she’s been in a home ever since.”

“That’s awful.” Steve frowned.

“Yeah.” Katie sighed, “Makes me realise just how lucky I was that Tony stepped up and became my guardian after mom and dad died.” she glanced at the young girl, the softness in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Steve as she spoke again “You know, every year I pray she doesn’t show up here. Not because I don’t want to see her but because it means she’s found a home and a family…” 

Steve smiled gently, looping an arm around her shoulders.

"Life can be shit.” he said, simply and Katie snorted.

“Yeah, it isn’t all bad though.” she mused, watching as Tony joined the front of one of the 3 lines the kids had been organised in and was looking at them all waving his hands.

“You want kids?” Katie asked, looking up at him. He took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose “Sorry…” she continued, shaking her head and rubbing her temple. “That’s a bit forward, I didn’t mean…” “I know.” Steve shook his head, understanding “And I did, before I joined the army. All I wanted was a family, stability, hold down a good job. Now, well, things went a bit crazy didn’t they?” “Tell me about it.” Katie chuckled.

“What, errr, what about you?” Steve asked.

“Eventually, maybe. But then I see all these kids here, like Emmy, who need homes and I…” she trailed off, struggling to put into words how she felt. Steve glanced down at her, a soft look on his face, but he was distracted as Emmy had returned and she was tugging on the dark material of his Uniform trousers.

“Can you be leader of our group?” she looked at Steve.

“Woah, what about me Emmy?” Katie said, her hands on her hips.

Emmy shot her a grin “You leader of my group for the last 2 years…” “Wow.” Katie smiled “You’re replacing me with Captain Dork.,.”

Emmy laughed and Steve’s mouth curled upwards.

“Captain Dork?”

Katie shrugged “The one that originally sprung to my head isn’t suitable for 6 year old ears.”

Steve let out a snort and then he looked down at Emmy and nodded. “Alright sweetie.” he said as the girl slipped her hand into his. “Lead the way.” As Katie watched them leave she was sure her ovaries had just exploded.

*****

45 kids came to the tower, 45 left. No one died, and Steve only had to throw his shield once for a demonstration. All in all the Stark Foundation Christmas Party 2013 was a roaring success.

The residents of the tower spent the next few days they had before Christmas lazing around, watching old Christmas films as Katie introduced Steve to her favourite one- “The Muppet Christmas Carol” her and Tony singing along like a pair of idiots. They decorated a tree in her apartment, headed through the streets of New York in the dark to see all the various Christmas lights, wrapped presents, spent evenings drinking hot chocolate laced with liquor and before they both knew what had happened, it was Christmas Eve and to Katie’s utter delight (and Tony’s it would seem as JARVIS informed them dryly that Mr Stark was demanding that they go outside to build snowmen) it was snowing again to top up the already substantial covering on the ground.

Steve hated being cold, a consequence of spending 70 years frozen but the childish excitement written all over Katie’s face was enough to make him brave the snow, and so, at half past 2 in the afternoon he was stood in Central Park, along with Katie, Pepper and Tony, building snowmen-which Steve was amazingly adept at, something that came as a surprise to Pepper and Tony, but not to Katie considering his artistic nature. Bruce called Tony half way through following the conclusion of whatever seminar he had been in and an hour or so later joined them, and was immediately told to judge the snowmen contest. He declared Steve the winner causing Tony and Katie to pelt the mild mannered Scientist with snowballs until his grown up façade slipped and he joined in, catching Tony with a perfectly placed lump of snow right between the eyes.

The light began to draw in and after purchasing a hot dog each from one of the stands the sounds of carols drifted to their ears so the 5 of them wandered towards the music. They found a group of singers not far from the Alice In Wonderland statue, each holding lanterns and sheets of music. They looked at one another and joined the crowd as they group began to sing Silent Night. Steve slipped his arms around Katie from behind, pulling her to his bulky, coated frame and she leaned back happily into his embrace.  His cold nose brushed against her cheek near her ear as he stooped to drop a kiss there.

“I haven’t seen a carol service since I was a boy.” he said softly.

She turned her head to look at him, the navy blue beanie he was wearing pulled down over his ears, matching scarf wrapped tightly round his chin. Yes, he hated the cold, but here he was grinning like a school boy as the snow began to fall again, because he didn’t hate any time spent with his best girl.

She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Taking you back?”

“A little…” he smiled before she turned back to the band, as his nose nuzzled at my ear “Love you… gram mo chroi…”

The words phonetically registered in her brain, graw miu cree the Irish brogue he had spoke in made her shiver.

“Yeah that sounds really sexy and I have no idea what you just called me…” she said, tilting her head back to face him.

“You don’t speak Gaelic?” he teased.

“Italian, German, Spanish and French…but no Gaelic.” she smirked.

“Smart ass…” he rolled his eyes before chuckling slightly, his eyes leaving hers to focus on the singers again. “So what does it mean?” she pressed.

“It means you’re the love of my heart, my life.” “Smooth Rogers…” she grinned, catching his lips again.

The singers finished to a round of applause from the surrounding crowd, including wolf whistles from Tony, and the 5 of them set off back to the Tower, the streetlights bouncing off the white of the snow. Walking the 20 or so minutes back they all stopped to enjoy hot chocolates laced with lashings of brandy at a small Cafe on the corner of Park and 5th, along with roast chestnuts and mince pies. Katie smiled, remarking that it was about as clichéd a Christmas Eve you could get. And she absolutely loved it.  

Once back at the tower they all said goodnight and headed to their respective floors and apartments. Once Steve and Katie had shed their various outer layers of winter clothing, Katie instructed Jarvis to light the fire before she headed off into the bedroom before walking back out and across the hall to the larger bathroom where Steve heard her turn on the tap to the tub.

“You having a bath?” he called dropping onto the sofa.

“Warming up.” she called back, grinning as she dropped a Christmas Pudding shaped bathbomb into the tub, watching as it started to fizz, the gorgeous smells of cinnamon hitting her nostrils. Biting her lip she walked to the door of the bathroom and leaned against it calling down the hall. “Wanna join me?”

Steve heard her, and didn’t need asking twice.

He walked into the bathroom to see her drop her robe to the floor, flashing him a view of her bare back, ass, legs before she stepped into the obscenely large tub and he shed his clothes in about 5 seconds flat, climbing in behind her. She leaned back against him, his arms coming to rest naturally on the sides of the large tub.

“Why…” he began, looking at his skin “Is there glitter all over my arm?” “I used a bath bomb” Katie grinned.

“A what?”

“Things you drop in the water alongside or instead of bubble bath and they smell nice. I’ll show you another day.” she said, closing her eyes and leaning back into the warmth of the water, her head laying on his chest, her right hand gently playing with his, fingers delicately rubbing across his knuckles, palm, tangling with his.

They were silent for a while, Steve’s head lolling against the back of the tub, utterly contented to stay there until the water went cold, when Katie spoke.

"Say it again,” she said, softly, wanting to hear the words he’d said before.

He quirked a crooked smile. “Say what?”

She chuckled and bit at the corner of her bottom lip and tilted her head round so she could look at him. “The thing you said earlier… say it again.“

He didn’t’ say a word, instead he dropped his head to kiss her neck, lips laying soft kisses along her shoulders. Slowly, his right hand moved its spot on the tub to stroking her hip, down the outside of her, thigh, up again and then across to her abdomen, the subtle brush of his fingertips on her sensitive flesh set off chills of a very different kind to the one’s she’d been feeling all afternoon in the snow. Katie let her eyelids fall shut, a small sigh escaping her lips as his mouth trailed a line from her right shoulder, to the back of her neck, to her left and she swallowed thickly, a soft hum of contentment brewing in her throat.  

"Say it again,” she breathed out but still he said nothing, instead he moved his hand down her abdomen going lower and lower until he slowly began to tease her.

Katie shuddered, her breath caught again as her head fell backwards. “Say it…” she tried again, the words coming out as a desperate whisper.

His grinning face pressed to her neck and shoulder as he nipped gently. “Sorry, I’m an old man. I forget what I say sometimes.”

He knew exactly what she was after and Katie knew he did, he was just being a tease and it was driving her wild. So she decided to deploy the big guns. Her hand drifted down to find his, wrapping tightly around his wrist, stilling his touch and she turned to face him, gently straddling him, sitting on his thighs and sending a slosh of water over the side of the tub onto the tiled floor.

"You forgot that I’m the love of your life?” she said softly, eyes locking onto his.

“Doll,” he said, dropping his forehead to hers. “No one could ever make me forget that. Ever.”

Bingo. Katie felt the smile cross her face as she leaned in to kiss him. Hard.

“Then say it,” she demanded.

He reached up and tangled one hand into his hair, pulling her face down to his, kissing her hard and he muttered into her mouth, “Gram mo Chroi…”

“I love you,” Katie huffed out into his open mouth as his hands went down to her waist and he gently pulled her forwards, positioning her before he thrust upwards and she moaned, pushing down onto his lap, water lapping around them as he filled her. “I love you, more than anything” Katie nipped at his lip and coiled her fingers into his hair, drawing a hiss from his mouth as she moved again, rocking her hips, grinding down on him.

“I love you,” his ragged breaths snagged on the words as he pressed up into her harder, then harder again, his hands straying to her back, fingers sliding up and down her as he pulled her closer to him, kissing her hard before turning his lips to her neck then her chest, the trails of water and soap suds trickled down from between her cleavage to her navel. It made him groan as he looked at her, pulling her down, meeting her thrust for thrust, slowly, deeply, each loving the other in a way only they could.

He sat up, the change of angle making her purr as he hit her deeply, and he held her to him, close, chest pressed to chest as he kissed her, hands snaking up into the back of her hair which was piled messily on top of her head. Katie moaned into his mouth as he thrust upwards again, and again as she pushed down, rotating her hips against him. Slowly, deeply, loving every single inch of each other they could find. Eventually Katie felt the knot in her stomach beginning to unravel and she threw her head back in a soft cry, his name tumbling from her lips, before she fell forward, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck as she caught her breath. A few more thrusts and Steve was right behind her, his body sliding down into the tub, head resting against the back, his girl tightly clutched to his chest. His hands ran up and down her back as she gave a low hum of contentment before pulling back, smoothing his hair back with her hands and smiling softly at him, before she kissed him gently.

“You know…” Steve said gently as she pressed her forehead against his “The amount of times you purr…I think I'mma start calling you kitten.“

"Thats kinda kinky…” Katie laughed and Steve grinned.

“Well, Kitten…as far as Christmas Eve’s go, this isn’t bad.”

She chuckled slightly and close her eyes. "Its been the best one I’ve ever had.”

*****

Christmas Morning was one of the few times Katie woke before Steve did. But she wasn’t surprised, it was Christmas. She was always up at the crack of dawn, had been since she was a child. Steve’s arms were wrapped around her, one leg tossed over hers doing his best koala impression as always, head buried into the back of her neck. She shifted, rolling over to face him, causing his grip to loosen slightly and simply watched him, taking in how much younger he looked with his face relaxed and how comfortable he was in sleep. She leaned over to gently place a kiss on his cheek just underneath where those ridiculously long eyelashes rested, before she rose, swapping Steve’s T-shirt for a long sleeved pair of Christmas pyjamas adorned with little snowmen and Christmas trees and headed into the living area. The tree was already lit (God bless Jarvis) as was the garland over the electric fire place and the lights in the kitchen. Katie would have fairy lights up all year if she could. Turning on the radio low, she poured some Christmas Roast into the machine and set about making pancake batter whilst popping off a cork on a bottle of Kristal to use for Bucks Fizz, the breakfast drink of champions

Steve heard her singing. Cracking an eye open he glanced at the clock, it wasn’t even gone 8 yet but he knew she would be dancing around, wide awake. He swore to God she’d been a Christmas Elf in a past life. He took a moment to stretch before he got out of bed, went to use the bathroom and came out, throwing on a pair of plaid sleep pants over his boxers before he made his way to the kitchen. He stopped dead when he saw her dancing around and had to stifle his laugh as he slipped his arms around her from behind.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” he said, his voice still thick with sleep as she tilted her head round to catch the kiss he was offering.

“Merry Christmas baby…” Katie said as he chuckled.

“What are you wearing?” “It’s the rules…” Katie said, turning to look at him. “On Christmas Day, in the Stark house, we all wear Christmas pyjamas and no one gets dressed until well after lunchtime and then we wear Christmas sweaters, eat dinner, lounge around and do absolutely nothing bar stuffing our faces, drinking and watching movies.”

“I don’t have any Christmas Pyjamas…or a sweater” Steve frowned. “Yeah you do…” Katie said, putting down the bowl of batter she had been whisking and grabbing his hand. She tugged him back down the hall and into the bedroom, Steve cursing her silently in his brain for as usual thinking of everything. She headed into the large walk in wardrobe and tossed him a Bloomingdale’s carrier bag. He arched an eyebrow as he reached inside pulling out first the sweater, and giving a loud groan as he examined the large reindeer on the front.

“Its nose lights up…” Katie said pressing it. At that he let out a chuckle and shook his head.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Hey I don’t make the rules babes!”

“I never was one for rules…” he muttered, now examining the Pyjamas that were green with little red Santa Clauses all over them.

“Bullshit!” Katie laughed and he looked at her, as she fake saluted “Captain America reporting for duty, Sir!”

“Punk…” he said, shaking his head as his lips quirked upwards and he waved the clothes he was holding at her. “They’re awful.” he snorted.

“They’re supposed to be, that’s the point…” she looked at him, batting her eye lids “Don’t be a Grinch…” “I have no idea what that is.” he shook his head.

“Ok, a Scrooge then…” “I am not dressing like an idiot.” Katie opened her mouth to make a joke about stars, stripes and spandex but he cut her off instantly, spotting the look on her face. Holding up his hand he shook his head.

“Just don’t…”

After some cajoling Katie managed to convince Steve to wear the Pyjamas for the morning. Stockings were opened, Bucks Fizz and Coffee was drunk as they exchanged gifts sitting cross legged on the floor by the fire. But Steve had one last gift for her that he hadn’t wrapped as it wasn’t a Christmas gift realy, it was something he’d wanted to give her for a while now but he finally felt the time was right. He took the opportunity to retrieve it from his bag whilst she was dressing after they had eaten breakfast, grabbing the small item in his hand and crossing the room so he was stood in front of her.

There’s something else I wanted to give you.“ Steve said gently, unable to stop his eyes from straying down the top half of her body which was clad in nothing but a bra as she pulled on the large sweater. "Huh?” she her head emerged from the hole in the sweater and as she noticed him watching her she smirked, sticking her arms through the garment.  “You already did that last night Captain Sex Fiend, several times remember….” “I don’t mean…” he rolled his eyes as she started laughing before he crossed the room and stood in front of her. Katie watched as he was turning a small, circular leather box of some kind in his hand. “I found this when we were going through my stuff for the museum” he said, gently handing it to her. “I want you to have it.”

She looked down at the worn leather of the dark brown box, before pressing the small button which released the catch on the worn, dark brown leather and she carefully opened the lid. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the delicate ring inside. The stone was a small, tear drop shaped emerald set into a yellow gold band with 3 small diamonds sat underneath the larger part of the teardrop stone. “It was my mom’s” Steve offered by explanation as she looked up at him, her eyes shining “Dad bought it for her before they left for New York, something to remind her of home …” “The Emerald Isle…” Katie said gently, smiling at him as she looked down again. “It probably isn’t worth much and I know you don’t really wear yellow gold but I was reading up that you could get it coated…” “Steve…” she looked up at him, silencing him “I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s beautiful.” And it was. All the more so because it had belonged to a woman she knew she would never meet but wished with all her heart she could. “Are you sure you want me to have it?” she asked. He nodded “She was buried with her wedding rings on but she gave me that specifically to pass to my someone special…” He trailed off as Katie smiled softly, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto the ring finger of her right making sure Steve knew she understood this wasn’t an engagement ring. It was a tad loose but nothing that was too drastic to stop her wearing it for the time being. “Thank you.” She said, her voice cracking slightly as she looked up into his eyes, those baby blues she knew so well were misting over “and for the record, regardless of what it’s worth or not worth, it means the world to me that you want me to have it. It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had”. She gently cupped his cheek in her hand before she leaned up and captured his lips in a soft kiss. “I love you.” She said gently as his nose rubbed against hers, their foreheads coming to a rest against one another. “Love you too.” He smiled, before giving her another quick kiss. “Enough to wear the sweater? She pulled back, her arms snaking round his neck as his hands dropped to her waist. He glanced at the one she was wearing which made her look like a giant Christmas tree and let out a long groan. He really didn’t want to wear the hideous Christmas sweater, but as he looked at her she made those eyes, those goddamned eyes that could get him to do whatever she wanted and he just couldn’t say no to her. "Fine I’ll wear the sweater…" 

******

“Katie looks nice.” Bruce commented.

"Nice,” Rhodey repeated “She looks unbelievable. Mind you I still remember her as an 18 year old student with blue streaks in her hair…”

Steve smiled as he watched Katie from where he was propped up against the bar talking to Rhodey and Bruce. She was mingling alongside her brother, talking to a group of people from Stark Industries. He saw her throw her head back in a laugh that was ridiculously over the top yet somehow she managed to make it look perfectly natural. He knew his girl was a knock out. But when he had seen her earlier that evening when her and Natasha had been getting ready he had been lost for words. The dress she had agonised over hung to her every curve, skin bare at her back. Her hair was set in soft, thick waves which framed her face. Her lips were painted in a smiliar red to her dress and the thick, smoky shadow and eyeliner over her lids made her green eyes stand out even more. As he watched, the dark haired, slightly overweight man she was stood next to dropped a hand to the bottom of her back and she turned to smile at him, gently patting his shoulder before she glanced over as Steve, rolled her eyes and mouthed “help me.” He let out a chuckle “Scuse me fellas…” and he strode across the room.

“Ah, the man of the moment.” Tony greeted him, “We were just talking about you.” “Oh?” Steve said, dropping a kiss to Katie’s cheek. “You ok sweetheart?”

He didn’t even have to shoot Mr Wandering Hands a glare, the man instantly moved away as Katie stepped gently towards Steve, his hand curling around her waist.

“Yeah.” Tony nodded “Sorry, Cap this is Jeremy Saul, Finance Director for Stark Industries. Jeremy was just asking where you were.” “I couldn’t believe for one second this gorgeous lady would be here on her own” Jeremy smiled offering his hand. Steve’s left hand gripped Katie’s hip a little tighter and she smirked into her champagne flute as he shook Jeremy’s hand with his right. “Good to meet you Captain Rogers.” “Jeremy is part of the board.” Katie said, levelling Steve with a look. A look that was blatantly telling him to be nothing but charming as Mr Wandering Hands could veto her proposal. So Steve was. He politely listened to the man, answered questions and nodded along until Wandering Hand’s attention was diverted elsewhere and he excused himself from their company, but only after dropping a lingering kiss to Katie’s cheek.

“Slimeball.” she muttered when he had gone “I swear to God Tony, it’s only a matter of time before someone files a sexual harassment case against him.” Tony snorted “Until he does something outta line he’s staying Kiddo. For one thing he is good at his job, and for another I don’t fancy the rigmarole and bad press associated with a tribunal.”

“Mr Stark…” Happy called to him. Tony spun round to see the man tapping at his watch and gesturing to the stage.

“Better go before Happy has a heart attack, can’t have my speech being 30 seconds late.” Tony rolled his eyes and he span on his heels, striding over to Happy, placating the man who as making furious gestures with his hands.

Katie chuckled to herself and grabbed another 2 glasses of champagne off a waiter as he passed, dropping her empties onto the tray. She handed one to Steve who dropped a kiss to her head.

“I know I said it before but you really do look incredible.” he smiled. He still couldn’t believe his luck at times. She beamed up at him.

“And you.” she smiled, and she meant it. He looked good enough to eat in a well fitted black tux and slightly off-white dress shirt, along with the cufflinks she had given him the previous year. She had watched him before as he looked himself up and down in the mirror and now, looking him over as he stood by her, she felt her stomach flutter again. A wicked smirk crossed her face “Can you leave the suit on later?”

He was about to quip back that he’d do whatever the hell she wanted if she left those heels on too, but there was suddenly loud music blaring out and the light on the stage all started moving around zooming in and zooming out.

Katie, upon hearing the music gave a loud scoff “Egotistical dick!” she said, unable to hide the laugh in her voice.

“I don’t…” Steve began but she shook her head.

“You won’t” she smirked “It’s by a band called Queen- One Vision. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand why he chose it!”

The introduction music finished and the screen sprang to life at the back of the stage showing Iron Man flying over the tower in New York, and as the first lines of the song sounded in Steve’s ear he let out a snort. One man, one goal, One mission. One heart, one soul, Just one solution.

Yeah, he knew exactly why Tony had chosen it.

The video continued, various bits of footage of Tony in the Iron Man suit, in the office, then there were some of Pepper in the office, Katie, the Avengers…it was all very showy for want of a better word, but at the end of the music it abruptly stopped and Tony stepped onto the stage, right hand held up, thanking everyone for the applause that had broken out. Steve noticed that Katie wasn’t clapping, instead she was shaking her head and trying not to laugh.

To give Stark his dues, Steve could see the man knew how to work a crowd. Just like he had seen Howard do many, many years ago. He welcomed everyone, thanked them for coming and talked about the company achievements for the year, the declared turn over, the charity work and thanked everyone for their continued work making Stark Industries a huge success. Katie however had zoned out until she heard her name being mentioned, and Steve nudging her lightly with his elbow.

“Where are you Kiddo?” Tony repeated

Katie’s eyes grew wide “Oh fuck…” she muttered shrinking into Steve as the spotlight found them.

Tony beamed, looking at his sister as she was flushing bright red from being the centre of attention. “I’d like to boast for a few moments about my sister if I may. As you will know, Katie and I lost our parents when Katie was only 7 years old and some wise guy deemed me responsible enough to become her legal guardian.” There were some chuckles “But I can’t have done too bad a job. She graduated with a first from Oxbridge and worked in England as our Head of Commercial in the UK, kicked some alien ass last year, and more recently left to serve if you will, as an analyst for an Intelligence Agency before resigning a few months back due to a difference of opinion with the boss…”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Steve muttered, causing Katie to smile a little.

“She seems to have sorted her private life out too, got herself a mother’s or should that be brother’s dream of a boyfriend…how’s it going Cap?” Steve rolled his eyes and felt his cheeks flush as the attention turned to him, chuckles ringing out across the room and Katie cringed even more, her face was smiling but her eyes were shooting daggers at Tony.

Tony didn’t care. He simply smirked, took a deep breath and beamed at his sister, continuing “As of yesterday the Stark Industries board voted in favour of a proposal Katie brought to the-” “What?!” Katie spluttered, loudly, as she glanced up at Steve who was beaming down at her, then to Tony who was on the stage, laughs ringing around the room at her reaction

“Yes Kiddo, they voted in favour of you proposal, which means next year sees the opening of Stark Independent Publishers, headed up by Katie. This is a great opportunity for anyone in the business who would like a change in direction and to be involved so we will be opening positions up internally before we advertise. Keep your eyes peeled.” Katie gulped, her eyes wide. They’d accepted her proposal. She was officially in business.

**** The party carried on through the night, and about 15 minutes or so before midnight Katie, feeling the effects of various drinks grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. A dance with his girl is something he’d never disagree to so he allowed himself to be steered into the throng of partygoers. He moved a little closer to her, slightly put off by all the people surrounding them. But his arms found their way around her waist, hers snaked around his neck and they began swaying to the music. The song finished and the music changed pace slightly, but their slow rocking motion remained the same and then Steve realised what the song was.

“Hey…” he grinned and she looked up at him with a small smile. “This is our song.”

“I asked them to play it.” she said, a little sheepishly, but this only made him pull her closer so that their foreheads were resting together before he rubbed his nose gently against hers as the music crashed over them. Steve adjusted his and her arms so they were in a proper dancing hold and they swayed to the song, just as they had done those months ago in her living room.

Tony was watching them out of the corner of his eye as he revolved Pepper around the dancefloor.

“Stop it.” Pepper said, laughing at him.

“What?” he said, his attention suddenly 100% on his woman.

“Watching them.” she looked at him, knowingly. Tony smiled, not even trying to hide it anymore, as he looked over at where his sister was dancing, her cheek was resting on Steve’s chest, top of her head tucked underneath his chin, as she laughed at something he said, tilting her head up to look at him and the smiling captain dropped a soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ve never seen her so happy Pep.” he said fondly as he watched the pair of them dancing together.

“I reckon they’ll make great babies.” Pepper teased, causing Tony to choke on nothing and look at her.

“What…why would…is she…” Pepper let out a laugh and shook her head “Not that I know of but they’re in it for keeps. I can tell. He’ll have a ring on it by this time next year.” “Well, so might I…” Tony teased and Pepper looked at him, smirking.

“Yeah, don’t bank on that.” she laughed “I told you, we’re not ready for that yet.”

“Kiddo is 14 years younger than me.” Tony pouted.

“And 14 years more mature.” Pepper smirked as the song drew to an end.

“Miss Potts you are breaking my heart…” Tony said, dropping a kiss to her lips. She smiled and gently pulled away from him, patting his chest and heading to the bar.

The band finished that song and then there was a loud cheer as the large clock on the screen began to count down, Steve and Katie moved to one of the windows to get a look over the city. As the room erupted as the countdown finished, Steve turned to the woman in his arms and smiled at her gently.

“Happy New Year baby girl.” he said softly.

“Happy New Year Handsome” she beamed, as his lips met hers.

**** Don’t forget to check out Love In An Elevator- A Stark Spangled Kinks one shot which sits along side this chapter...and a little bonus drabble When You Know, You Know, for their morning after.

Tags

@the-Omni-princess

@momobaby227

@geekofmanythings16

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: T

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  Thank you for all of the reviews/comments/kudos, folks! You are the best! Feedback is always loved and appreciated! Hope you enjoy this chapter! -Jen

                                              Chapter Four

Labyrinth. A complicated maze filled with endless passageways-some even leading to nowhere. Agatha had heard of the tunnels, the darkness that clung to the walls. Jonathan Harker had recounted in his testimony to Mina and her of his attempts to successfully navigate through them. A warning she found herself not heeding.

A shiver ran up Agatha's spine the second her bare feet touched the cold, stone floor. Her head spun, vision cloudy, and for a brief moment the nun began to reconsider her plan. But no. No, it was now or never. When would she have the chance again? Inhaling deeply, using the wall as a means of support, she slowly made her way out of the room and into the corridor.

Vampiric Physiology. It had been her grandfather, Abraham Van Helsing, who pulled Agatha into the legends of Dracula. Raised by the man after the death of her father, she grew fascinated by the tales of the professor and his encounters with the beast. It was on his deathbed that his granddaughter made her promise, swore on her life, that she would carry on his legacy. Finish the act he failed to. Find the vampire and destroy the Devil where he stood. Forever end the miserable existence of Count Dracula.

The further she walked the deeper Agatha found herself in the bowels of the castle. The air was thick, musky, and the heaviness of it all scratched at her already sore throat. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to keep level headed. The secrets these caverns surely held. So caught up on her thoughts, the nun stumbled across a loose stone, nearly tumbling to the ground. Silently cursing, ignoring the pain in her now bruised big toe, she went on.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. In the back of her mind, Agatha began to fear if the count had already returned. What would his reaction be to her empty bed? Would he storm the castle like a predator stalking its prey? Dwelling on it would do her no good now. She was in too deep. As she turned down another hallway, she heard a weak cry.

"Please. Help me."

The voice was soft, pleading. The nun stopped in her tracks, the hairs on her arms standing up. It sounded so distant, and yet, so close.

"Hello?" She called out, hesitation in her tone. "Who's there?"

"Please," it begged. "Please, help me."

"My name is Sister Agatha Van Helsing," Agatha replied, moving towards the noise. "Keep talking, I'll find you."

"Please." It was a woman's voice, her accent thick. Russian? "I'm so cold. It's so dark. Please, help me."

The corridor opened up into a large room. The aroma of the air changed, mildew, soil, rot. Agatha covered her mouth, attempting not to dry heave. Surrounding her were many boxes. Her brow furrowed and in her fevered state, she thought back to Harker's words. Boxes. Coffins. The nun's eyes grew wide as she realized her terrible mistake. In horror, she watched as one of the lids creaked upon, a decaying arm dragging across the opening.

"Please," the voice hissed, agony laced in his gravelly tone. "I'm so thirsty…"

Agatha began to scan around the room looking for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. The woman, or what used to be Agatha imagined, had now pulled herself halfway out of the box. She stared at the nun with hollow eyes, mouth open to reveal stained, jagged teeth.

"Stay back," the nun warned. But even as brave as she was, Agatha couldn't hide her fear. "I'm warning you, I'll-"

Just then, something swooped by Agatha. The creature let out a cry, cowering back as a figure rose a sharp stake in the air before plunging it deep into the undead's chest. Count Dracula wheeled around, a look of fury glaring in his eyes that even put the nun on edge.

"I show you the best hospitality and this is how you thank me?" He growled, stroding over so that he now loomed over the nun. "Do you realize what would've happened if I hadn't made it in time?"

"I...I can handle myself…" She mumbled, her cheeks flushing.

"Clearly not," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "How did you even find your way down here?" The vampire's gaze flickered up and down. "With the state you're in?"

"I'm fine, if that's what you're trying to get at," she frowned. "What exactly is this place? You owe me an explanation."

"Ha, I owe you absolutely nothing," he chuckled coldly. "But you mildly impressed me. So I suppose perhaps I can offer you some insight into my special project."

"Special project?" Agatha questioned, an eyebrow raised, finding herself morbidly fascinated. "You mean, experimenting with the undead? Jonathan Harker mentioned…"

"Oh, it's quite more complicated than that," Dracula said with a dark smile. "And Johnny's memories aren't that reliable. But, I digress. Death is a curious thing, Agatha. As is mortality. The balance between it, that is where the science lies."

"I don't think I quite understand-"

"Of course you don't," he interrupted. "But I think that's enough lecture for one day."

Without warning, he scooped Agatha up as if she were no lighter than a feather. The nun yelped in surprise, caught off guard by the count's motion. He grinned at her, his arms wrapping around her in such a secure fashion that the nun couldn't decide if he did so to protect her or keep her from getting away.

"Put me down," Agatha struggled. "Let me go this instant!"

"You sure do get testy when you're tired, Agatha," Dracula smirked as he carried her bridal style from the room. "I think a good nap would do you some good."

"And I think a good stake in the heart would suit you nicely," she countered. "Or a nice stroll outside during a sunny day."

Dracula scoffed, his hold on the nun not loosening until they were back in her room. With surprising care, he gingerly placed Agatha back into bed. The nun frowned, eyes like daggers as she watched him walk over to the side of the room. For the first time, she noticed a small parcel sitting on the dresser. Picking it up, the vampire reappeared by her side and held it out.

"A gift," Dracula said simply. "A friendly gesture." When the nun continued to eye him warily, he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Come on, Agatha, if it was something disturbing, I wouldn't have taken the time to have it wrapped so nicely. Take it."

Finally caving, Agatha carefully took the package from Dracula. Caustionally tearing the paper back, she was stunned by the contents within. Cream colored, the sleeves just intricant enough that one could still consider it modest, was a dress. She was at a loss for words. It was by all accounts beautiful. Something so nice that she hadn't owned ever since she became a nun.

"To replace that hideous habit of yours," Dracula stated. "I hope you like it. If not-"

"No," she whispered, examining it. "No, it's nice...Thank you…" The words sounded foreign when they left her lips. "May I try it on?"

Dracula snorted. "If you so desire to. The nap, after all, was just a suggestion…" Even the count seemed a little awkward now. "Shall I go or…"

"Until I change," Agatha said, momentarily pausing. "But you may return, since you did purchase it after all…"

It was weird. It felt weird. Was it the fever? Minutes ago she was nearly killed. On the verge of entering a shouting match with her mortal enemy. And now she was trying on a dress that he gave her. A gift. Agatha's mind was surely discombobulated. With just a slight amount of struggle, she managed to slide into the dress and adjust it correctly.

"You can come in now," she called out.

Dracula stepped into the room, his eyes looking Agatha up and down. Though she'd never admit it, the nun felt a little bashful. A small part of her wanted to feign a faint so it could all be over. But she didn't. She stood there quietly, waiting for a response.

"Well," she said, beginning to feel a little offended. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"

"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."

Again, Agatha felt the heat rush to her cheeks, only this time she knew it wasn't the fever. It was as if she was a little school girl again. The strange, uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Butterflies? No. No, no, no. Focus. The nun swallowed, shaking her head.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Now, I think I should like to take that nap you mentioned. Today was rather eventful, much to your doing."

"You're quite an interesting one, Agatha Van Helsing," Dracula replied, eyeing her with a strange look. "But I'll leave you to your own devices," he paused, a glint of mischievousness in his eye. "For now. Get some rest. You know where to find me."

"Unfortunately," but her voice lacked the usual hatred she held. "Goodbye, Dracula."

As she watched him leave, Agatha sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. She was beginning to feel sick. But this was different than the fever. This was something else. More complex. And she hated it. Was it possible? Was Agatha, Vampire Hunter, Van Helsing starting to feel for the bloodthirsty Count Dracula? If Abraham Van Helsing could see her now. God help her.

[sarah--goff]

T.D.M Chapter 14: Where Are We Now?

_*_

Feeling a wetness trickle over your eyes, you fling them open.

Surging upwards with a ragged gasp, you clawed at the blankets and quilts confining you. "I don't want to die !" you scream at the top of your lungs.

You can’t immediately focus in on the things directly in front of you, entire body shaking as you struggled to calm yourself from over-panicking and take deep shallow breaths. You weren't in the tunnel anymore you were somewhere else.

I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay.

Your eyes dart back and forth over the scene, trying to piece together where you are and more importantly, how you got here.

You can make out what you think are your feet under the quilt -which you wiggle to check if they are indeed your own- and then beyond that the two wooden spiralling posters of a poster bed. You can make out that the room is circular and small. It hurts to crane your neck to see the rest. You can hear birds chirping brightly through the arch window in the stone wall to your right.

“Ah ” you wince feeling a pressure applied to your forehead, more wetness.

Jareth draws back his hand from your forehead, holding the damp clothe. For a brief moment you saw that his eyes soften, and his eyebrows knitted in concern and concentration “try not to move” he said calmly.

You try to recall the last events you remember but it's like there's a blank gap in your mind.

last being in the oubliette

didn’t have much time left,

asked for directions

and then Jareth …and

now I'm…in a bedroom?

“What are you doing!” you cried, shifting backwards in the bed away from his reach. You sit up straight but immediately curse violently at the pain that thrummed everywhere.

_*_

The Goblin King pushes your shoulders to ease you back down and although you resist, you’re too weak with the numbing pain and can’t fight back, which is extremely lucky for Jareth judging by the look on your face.

Your anger subsides at the tell-tale look of the realisation of where you are.

“No ” you plead skipping your eyes everywhere around the small chamber he’d made up for you especially while you were resting. He can see those brilliant cogs turning in your mind as you no-doubt piece the fragments together. A small part of Jareth ached to see you so horrified but what else was he expecting?

“This isn’t right- this isn’t how it was meant to be !” you cry feebly “No, no , no ! I should be home!” you thrash out at the pillows around you, clearly fighting the pain to sit up and get out of the  bed. “It’s not over- it can’t be over! I was supposed to win! I came so far!”

“You did” he said gently “you did very well, far better than I’ve ever seen- for what it’s worth” but you weren’t listening, you were mustering up any strength you could to throw the covers back off the bed and swing your legs around.

“Don’t-”

You manage to tumble out of the bed clumsily, too weak to properly stand and leave the room. You can only manage to lash out feebly from kneeling on the floor.

“You smug bastard!” you roared in part disbelief,“you brought me here before my time was up!”

"I had no choice," Jareth said gravely "you were ill"

Your shouts become hoarse “I was supposed to finish! You made me miss my last hours !”

With a cry you pelted the floor more, unleashing the pent up anger that had been eating away at you since you arrived.

“You rotten bastard cheater!” you howled. “You fuc-“

“Forgive me” Jareth murmured crouching in front of you, touching your forehead with his index and middle finger. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you sighed deeply, succumbed to sleep once more.

"Oof" The Goblin King catches your shoulders before they could knock the stone floor. "Apologies, my rose, but I favour my ears today".

He looped his arms under yours to pull you up before lifting you properly. This was starting to become a habit, not that he was complaining.

You felt almost weightless and extremely warm to the touch, even under your layers of clothing, it was likely you had a fever of some kind- though he couldn’t be sure exactly, human illnesses were not common knowledge in the Underground.

Most likely, it was due to your overwhelming exposure to magic while you had been in the Underground. The mortals just couldn’t handle it. It’s why they were strictly given only 13 hours to trial the labyrinth- any more could be fatal, without the right after-treatment.

It was not good to wear yourself out all at once, though Jareth knew he deserved to hear exactly what you had to say, it would do you more harm than good at this moment in time. He would have face those repercussions later. But for now, you needed to rest.

He awkwardly shifts you in his arms to free his hand and peel back the covers to lie you underneath again, tucking you in.

_*_

Jareth rubbed his temple with a frown. Even from deep in the hidden library, alone to brood, he could still hear the distant clamour of Goblins bickering when all he wanted was a moment’s peace to straighten things out in his mind for pity's sake, was nothing sacred around here?

Jareth tapped his sharp teeth thoughtfully. He wasn't used to playing the knight in shining armour. The hero. He was the villain, the Goblin King, he was frightening and cruel, they all cowered before him, he snatched nasty little mortal blights and the Abovelers cursed his wicked ways. All he’d ever know was deceit and self-indulgence, minus everyone else’s needs, he was number one priority at all times. But a traitorous part of him couldn’t help enjoying the change in character. Someone was dependant on him. Sloane Hazel needed him . He felt a little bubble of pride in his black heart and even grinned a little at the idea. He was going to be utterly selfish with you.

After a few rolls of his hand he summoned the image of you.

Good. You were still dead to the world- you needed the rest, though he estimated the sleeping spell wouldn’t last for much longer, your eyelids twitched now and then, sometimes your arm jerked and your mouth puckered.

_*_

“Can- can I see her?” Hoggle wrung his hands, the crowded room only adding to his anxiety not to mention the sneer of the Goblin King who he stood before, a very triumphant leer playing on him.

“And who might that be, dwarf?”

The minute the 13 hours were up, a loud cannon had sounded to signify the end of the run. The kingdom had silenced briefly, everyone had come to a millisecond standstill, someone had lost to the king, someone was about to be turned into a goblin.  

Even Hoggle, head in hands, slouching miserably against the Labyrinth’s outskirt walls, held his breath. It was over. You’d lost.

Hoggle figured he owed it to you to at least see if you were alright-after all, he had shoved you into the oubliette, willing or not. It would give him peace of mind at least to see if you were being treated well, with the Goblin King, you never knew what to expect, in Hoggle’s mind it was usually the worst from experience.

Hoggle had immediately raced through the cobble-stoned streets of the Goblin, where he whizzed past the chatter of the folk , detailing the early sights of the king walking towards his castle, that a human was in the castle, that the human wasn’t a rotten child- it was a girl. A ladygirl.

“Sloane- the Aboveler” Hoggle said stiffly,  though it was obvious Jareth knew exactly who he was referring to- the King was obviously in a tormenting mood today, he even had his legs thrown over the armrests to pay homage to his taunting leer rather than his usual composed self.

Hoggle noticed that the castle was different somehow to how he remembered. Brighter? Clean. It was clean.

The sun shone through the windows properly, the floors glinted, he could see his own sparkling reflection, away from all the grime and dirt, the Goblin King’s copper throne polished like his own boots. Even the faded curtains around it had been replaced with bright plum coloured clothe as well as the throne room's own deep red drapes and golden tassels. The eons of smoke and ash all gone like the castle had been built this morning.

The Goblin King grinned, his elbow was propped against the arm of the throne, which in turn propped up his head, tapping his cheek with his slender finger as he spoke.

“My guest is sleeping Hogspill, I don’t wish to disturb her much needed rest, do you?”

Hoggle thought it would be like this, he knew once the Goblin King won, he would never see the likes of you again. No doubt It was all part of a scheme of his, fear nipped at Hoggle’s heels he didn't trust the king for a second and rightly so...

If Hoggle couldn’t see you were okay, or at least not locked up in some dungeon somewhere chained to a wall...

Hoggle shook his head “when she wakes up?” he said hopefully.

Jareth put his hands together so that they touched at the fingertips, he rested his chin to them. “hmmm I don’t believe that was part of our deal” he smirked, cool as ice. Damn him!

“Please y’ majesty, the little lady, she’s my friend –“

“Friend ?” The Goblin King repeated throwing his head back roaring with laughter, echoed by the uproar of the goblins scratchy chortles and hoots.

“Oh dear me, you’ll have to forgive me” Jareth wiped a tear from his eye still chuckling with jutting shoulders “that was simply just too funny. Friend, Hogsnatch? Is that what you are? Why, from the moment Ms. Hazel stepped foot in the Underground, you did nothing but turn her away, cheat her, lead her to inevitable destruction and all in order to save your own neck!” he sneered “that doesn’t sound very much like a friend to me”

“But you sai-“

“In fact  if it wasn’t for me, Ms Hazel may very well be dead, since you practically left her to rot in my Labyrinth, she could have easily broken her neck down that drain with your carelessness!” he hissed at the dwarf, disdain burning in his glare, Hoggle was lucky looks couldn’t kill.

“Just a min-“

Jareth continued his booming voice drowning out Hoggle’s small objections.

“In her final hours of need, putting her trust in you, what did you do? Leave the poor girl alone in that oubliette. I dare say she may very well have won my Labyrinth if not for your interventions, Halfwit, - thank goodness I was there to pick up the pieces yet again”

“But that’s not- it ain’t-” Hoggle spluttered

The Goblin King leaned forward towards Hoggle cupping his ear at him haughtily. “Is there something more you would like to say, Hoghead? I’m beginning to get the distinct impression you wish to air your thoughts before the crown”.

“It ain’t fair ” Hoggle finished, the poisonous word bouncing around the stone walls that momentarily silenced the King but only to oomph his amusement. That blasted word.

“Oh dear, poor Hoghead” Jareth clapped his hands to his face in mock-horror “what will Ms. Hazel think when I tell her what you’ve done?”

Hoggle’s heart dropped

“Y’ wouldn’t!”

he wouldn’t take away his only friend, the girl he’d grown attached to, lose him to the hands of this- this- villain in such a gruelling place that was so alien to you. Hoggle knew damn well Jareth had powers and capabilities beyond the imagination.

Jareth grinned “wouldn’t I?”. He slapped either side of the armrests of the throne, jumping up enthusiastically.

“Right! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to my guest, she’ll be waking soon, and I simply must look my best, you understand, don’t you? Well… perhaps not- but anyhow, you see yourself out”.

Jareth strode out the room, meandering the crystals around his hands, “dance magic, dance” he sung under his breath, whistling cheerfully to leave a dejected Hoggle surrounded by the goblins who had since lost interest in him for their own entertainment.

Hoggle traipsed out the palace gates miserably.

Something told him your adventure in the Underground had not ended within those 13 hours.

He told himself it could have been worse for you, it was unlikely you would be turned into an Underground creature at the least…It appeared the King had some underlying affection for you…And you were a clever girl anyway. You’d figure something out, stay or go, Hoggle was certain.

“It still doesn’t make it better”. If only there was something he could do. Blast his cowardice, he would help you, he would!

Feet clacking over the bridge, Hoggle's thoughts were mislead by the passing hubbub of the king’s guards wading to the castle with their shields and spears bobbing in time with their steps and an idea struck him, perhaps there was something he could do after all.

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 4

Last of the night.

TW: Small (barely worth the warning) mention of suicidal ideation, drug effects.

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Loki x OC

=

"Delilah, you have a visitor." FRIDAY echoed overhead, making the only occupant in the room start from her slumber.

Lilah groaned in bed, turning her back to the door and burrowing deeper into the bedsheets. "Nope."

"They're kind of insisting, Del."

"What time is it, FRI?" Delilah wiped at her eyes, whining pitifully into the darkness that surrounded her.

"It is three forty three in the morning. The temperature outside is twelve degrees and internal temperature is sixty seven degrees, Fahrenheit. Do you want to know the weather?"

Delilah growled. "Just tell me who's at the door, FRIDAY!"

"Rock of Ages is–"

"For fuck's sake, Loki," she grumbled. "Let him in and just… he'll figure it out."

The door slammed open a second later and heavy footfalls followed. "Lilah! Deh-LI-lah! Where's your hidey-hole –hahahahaha, hole… Delilah?" Just as she sat up in bed and contemplated going to her living room, her bedroom door swung open. "Hey, pocket pixie. Are you awake?" He was whispering with all the grace of a rambunctious three year-old.

"Lord above, Loki, what is going on?" She growled, as he suddenly flipped the light switch and turned the dimmers up to an almost sun-like glow. She shielded her eyes against the light as Loki nosed around her room. "Are you drunk?"

He paid no mind to her queries. "You said we were friendly, but Thor told me you were my only friend because no one wanted to work with me after the… you know… the genocide," he added another whisper.

"You had other friends, Lo." Delilah peeked with one eye to watch the pacing demigod. He looked probably worse than she did right now. His hair was disheveled and his button-up had become crumpled and had, at some point, been taken off, as it was currently mis-buttoned.

"No! I had colleagues with which I shared mutual tolerance." He pouted severely, staring blankly at a corkboard full of pictures before letting out an insane cackle. "You're making funny faces in this photograph." His hand reached out to touch a rabbit plushie on the table below. "Oh, this is so soft."

"Oh, fuck. You're tripping balls." Delilah gently herded him away from the stuffed animal, dumping him into an armchair in the corner of her bedroom. "Loki, what did you take?"

Loki smiled and patted her hair down from the bedheaded mess it was in. "Dinner with you and some more beer with Thor." His smile faltered and his hands fell to hers. "You should have stayed. We had a bad talk." Loki's eyes shimmered with tears that were gone as soon as they appeared. "Your eyes are so green."

Lilah chuckled, despite herself. "So are yours, buddy. Or they would be if your pupils weren't blown as hell." She tilted his chin to focus him back on her. "What else did you have?"

"I had a headache, afterwards. I walked around to find something to get rid of it and the nicest agent gave me some pills." He turned his face and placed a kiss on her bare wrist before cackling again. "I feel great now."

"Alright, then. That's good, bud." Lilah puffed out her cheeks and pondered. She had not had the privilege of dealing with someone who was this sort of high before. After all, stoners were a lot more chill than this. Though, mercifully, Loki was entertaining himself by wrapping his fingers in locks of her hair until they became a curl. "Hey, FRI. Awkward question, how can I tell what kind of drugs someone is on?"

"Any answers to that will have to be on record, Delilah."

"OK. How do I know whether someone's heart will give out and die?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"If they are awake and alert, there is little risk of overdose." Delilah breathed, wincing when he tugged on her hair just a little too hard. "Loki's vital signs are within normal range, if that Is what's worrying you."

There was silver lining in this hazy cloud, after all. "Thanks, FRI. Could you–"

"Completely off the record. Keep subject hydrated until they come down."

The tears were back, and this time they had run down the sharp planes of his cheekbones, unhindered. "Will do, FRIDAY. Thanks." Sighing, she brushed away at the trails on his cheeks using the hem of her oversized sleep shirt. "Hey." His lip quivered at her soft tone. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"My mother is dead."

Lilah winced at the pain in his tone. "I know, Lo. I'm really sorry."

"I am adopted, a monster, a genocidal prick, my mind was controlled, and now my mother is dead. Must I be a walking curse? An omen of ill will?" His voice was shaky, same as the hands in her hair and clasped in her own. Delilah felt awkward. He was never a touchy-feely kind of guy, but it seemed that being high out of his mind and without his magic left him vulnerable.

"You are Loki and you are whatever you want to be, all the time. Today is no different."

He scoffed, his eyes hardening and his jaw tight. "Dead sounds like a pretty good option, at the moment," he muttered.

The snap of her hand on his cheek broke the undisturbed silence of the night. He had yelped, releasing his hold on her hair to soothe the digits-shaped mark. For a moment Lilah was glad he was out of it, or he would have definitely injured her without a second thought in a fit of rage. Instead, his lower lip quivered more, tears flowing freely.

"That's my friend you're talking about. You don't say shit like that, got it?" Face to face, they were mirror images of each other, tears forming salty trails down both of their cheeks before Delilah hastily wiped her face, palm still stinging. "I'm gonna get you some water."

When she returned with two large glasses of water, Loki was still rubbing his cheek, though now it was simultaneous with doing the same to the armchair. "So soft," he kept mumbling, over and over.

"God, you're high as a kite." He looked up with bright, glazed eyes, looking conflicted as to which hand he wanted to unoccupy for the task and not making any headway. "I'm not going to hold the cup for you, Loki."

"But it's so soft! I can't let go now! What if it changes?" He cried, his brow furrowed in concern.

Delilah swallowed the retort bubbling in her throat. "If I'm ever this high, you better take care of me, Lo." The glass tilted towards his lips and he greedily drank the liquid down, some dribbling out the sides and down his chin to land on his shirt. He didn't seem to care, as he finished the first glass and quickly asked for the second, drinking with as much fervor as before.

"You're a pretty Midgardian, Delilah." His hand had migrated from his cheek to his hair, and through the still-flowing tears, he let out a peal of laughter. "Delilah cut my hair and now I'm weak, just like… er… What's-his-face!"

"Samson–"

"Samson!" Loki giggled, though his smile turned back into a frown a second later. "Samson was liked, though. He was a hero. I'm a no-gooder. I deserve to be weak. All Samson did was love!"

"OK. You're clearly spiraling. How about we get you in bed, buddy?" With a few tugs, she managed to get Loki on his feet and travel the short distance to her bed. He instantly reached for the teal fleece blanket she had been snuggled under before her slumber was rudely interrupted. "Sleep it off, OK?"

"Don't leave!" He called just as she was about to flip the lights off and crash on the couch. "My skin is ants and I don't want to be lonely in case they eat me."

"You skin is… ants?" He nodded frantically. Her hesitation only bought her an exaggerated pout that made her feel guilty. Groaning, she flipped the switch off and slipped into bed beside him. His left hand drew large circles onto the fleece blanket, but his right burrowed under her sleepshirt and made tidy circles on her stomach. "That is… an HR complaint. For sure."

"So warm. And soft."

"Loki, you need to be quiet and sleep now," she whispered, ignoring the flutter of his fingers over her skin. To his credit, he tried to still himself beside her, though his body was still practically vibrating. It was going to be a long night.

...

"This is your wake-up call, Delilah," FRIDAY announced, just as the sun was streaming in through the windows of her bedroom.

"FRIDAY, tell Sam I am going to be late and cancel my eight am, please. Wake me in another hour," she growled, pulling her blanket closer. Except her blanket was not a blanket, it was a white Oxford button-up shirt and its owner was plastered against her back, snoring.

"Should I tell Thor his brother is here?"

Delilah pressed her eyes tight, trying to pretend that the world outside was non-existent. "Take a wild guess, FRI."

"Thor is looking for him."

"He's indisposed." Loki whimpered in his sleep and tightened his grip around her stomach. "And crushing me."

"Thor is asking for GPS tracking."

"For fuck's sake, just tell him that Loki will meet him in a half hour in the canteen, OK?" Loki started at her half-yelled response, clutching his head immediately after at the sudden jolt. "Lights on at ten percent, please."

"No," a voice hissed darkly into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Leave me in the dark to rot." His face hid itself into the crook of her neck and groaned miserably.

She patted his hand, trying to squirm out of his steel grasp. "Loki, I need to pee." With another groan, his fingers reluctantly left the comfortable heat of her stomach and he faced the dim lighting overhead.

"My face hurts," he grumbled, rubbing the cheek she remembered plainly striking the night before. "Oh, Hel. My head." Without so much as a backwards glance, she scurried off to the washroom, taking her sweet time brushing her teeth and washing her face, hoping against all hope that the Asgardian left on his own. Delilah was never one for awkward conversations, and she was more than certain that this would be the awkward chat to end all awkward chats.

When she re-emerged, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, head hung between his shoulders in a pitiful stance. He had, fortunately, managed to sling his shirt back on, though it hung open over his frame. "You still breathing there, bud?" Loki barely nodded. Her traitorous legs moved on their own accord, stopping only when she reached him. Unsure on a course of action, she waited quietly for him to acknowledge her.

Loki's eyes swept slowly from the ground, up her form until they reached her own. There was the slightest shadow of lavender dusted on his cheek that made her stomach churn. "Do you always attend strange men who call in the night in your underthings?"

Delilah frowned, glancing down at herself. Her sleepshirt was several sizes too large, and covered her thighs, but she had definitely not had the opportunity to put on shorts before letting Loki in. "In my defense, it was three in the morning when you barged into my bedroom  and I, frankly, had more important things to worry about." He dropped his head again, without so much as a snarky comment, which was more worrying than not. "Your brother is looking for you."

"I heard." He whispered.

"Do you need help getting back?" Her tone matched his. She assumed it was for the benefit of his head.

There was a long stretch of silence and Lilah wondered whether or not he had even heard her. "I don't know why I came to you." The sentence held no malice or mocking, just an expression of confusion to a question she had not even asked.

"I don't mind, actually." She carded her fingers through the gnarly mess of her hair, wincing when her fingers met the occasional knot. "Hey, Loki?"

"Yes?"

Now came the awkward part. "If you were to see the agent that gave you the pills, would you recognize them?" This drew his attention back to her face. His brow furrowed as he gave her the slightest of nods. "Good… because I am going to need to fire them."

Loki's eyes drew closed with a sigh. "Don't make yourself enemies for my stupidity. I should have just come to you last night."

"I'm required to, by law." She raised her hand to halt his protest. "Someone deliberately drugged you and they may not stop at doing it to you out of spite. You were buzzed, but some human might die."

Her hand patted his cheek on its descent, and she was startled when his own grasped it as she pulled away. A ghost of a smirk was forming onto his lips, the dark circles under his eyes making him look manic. "Why does my face hurt?" Loki held her fingers in almost the exact place the had made contact during the night.

"I was trying to slap some common sense into you. It didn't work. Your skull is too thick," she replied, deadpan. "Can I get some clothes on, now?" With a half grin, he released her hand. "Thank you. Do you need help getting back to your room?" He shook his head in the negative. "Want me to grab you on my way to the cafeteria?" He nodded, but didn't move. "Cool. Can you get the fuck out now, or…?" 

With a chuckle, Loki stood, making his frame as large as possible and forcing her to take a step back. When Lilah didn't make a surprised expression, he held her gaze in an irritatingly intense lock, but she seemed to not even blink at the challenge. After another moment, he stepped away, skirting around her, not even bothering to listen in to the muttered cursing she was doing as he left her abode.

[arcane-shadow]

Don’t You Dare Pity Me

Characters: Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence,  Panic Attacks, PTSD, 

AO3 Link

My Bad Things Happen Bingo 

Byakuya prides himself on his composure, the stoicism and aloofness expected of him as a Togami.

Even during their ill-fated killing game he had managed to keep a hold of himself. He had been a beacon of calm within their group while the rest of his classmates panicked and ran about like headless chickens. So afraid of death and murder.

He had, of course, been prepared for such situations. The world of a Togami had been a cutthroat one, full of vicious competition not only between rival corporations but within the family itself.

Byakuya Togami had grown up in a world of unseen and unspoken violence. Countless times he had been on the receiving end of an attempted assassination, and had of course been instructed on the ins and outs of that particular underworld trade himself. He was prepared and confident for the eventuality of having to kill to survive. It was to be expected of a Togami.  

(Regardless of certain individuals and certain circumstances, he still considers himself willing and able to commit that final act of violence. The world is an even more dangerous place now than when he was a foolish teenager; he will not allow himself to be beaten in this dog eats dog world.)

(Although, and If only for his own continued safety and goal of rebuilding his corporation, there may be the existence of a few annoyances he would willingly stick his neck out for...)

He survived, and continues to survive.

Very little, he had thought, could rattle the great Byakuya Togami’s composure now. Despite his very brief moments of weakness (the ones that occasionally peered through his rotting and decayed memory of Hope’s Peak to haunt him) he thought himself a more hardened individual in the hands of the future foundation.  

How unexpectedly and disgustingly wrong he had been.

Within the fortressed walls of the future foundations medical centre, Byakuya feels the cold cement of the empty hallway bleeding up through his once finely pressed pants. He is not capable of movement, even as he knows- fears-the risk of someone finding him there, playing witness to him acting as weak and stupid as a Togami is, by definition, not.

He does not move. He stays sitting there, curled up pathetically into his side like a child might.

He is breathing too fast, body convulsing shamelessly as he claws at the wall with one hand as he attempts to regain some semblance of control. But that would require him to be able to stop thinking, stop seeing, stop feeling in every atom of his being the flood of images he cannot fight against as they thunder relentlessly against his psyche.  

It is gunfire, a backdrop of his thoughts brought to horrifying life as the surprise flash of ignition surrounds them. It is the way Aoi’s voice, echoing jovially in the dark moments before turning suddenly silent. The intimate smell of blood, a familiar friend, crowding his senses, hands shoving him, bringing him down hard onto harsh asphalt and glass.

He feels the sting of pain in his palms and the silence of the hall fills with mechanical laughter. Just like Hers.

He presses himself as tightly as possible to the wall. He bows his head into his knees, shamefully hiding his lack of control over his emotions from – from an empty hallway, from the ghosts of his disappointed ancestors, from the monster wearing a teenage girl’s skin. From himself.

He’s fine. Not even really injured, only the grazing on his hands to show from the mess of that last mission. Everyone else escaped with similar damage, even Aoi who, for a moment he had feared—no, he didn’t fear, was concerned in a practical manner over their most physically capable team member—had been injured far worse.  So he had no reason, none at all, to be collapsing and hyperventilating in public hallways.

He struggles to remove his glasses, his hands shaking and his head unwilling to remove itself from between his knees. He cannot have them breaking, the way a fine lady may break a glass, when she is consumed with hysterics. As he himself is. The shuddering, tight vice of wayward emotion is swallowing Byakuya whole.

There can be no evidence of his weakness.

He has not yet allowed his dignity to betray him enough to let tears to flow but they threaten, distorting the world even further as his glasses remain clenched in his fist. The first tear he lets spill will be the first drop towards the death of the Togami.

He doesn’t notice until it is too late, until a familiar panic stricken voice pierces the relative quiet of his hiding place.

“B-Byakuya!”

Makoto approaches him at nearly a run from the end of the hallway, worry and concern radiating from every line of his body. A mixture of fear, anger, and shame causes Byakuya’s next panicked action. Something he had always thought himself so above.

“GO AWAY! Don’t you dare get any c-closer-”

His voice hitches high and unsteady, breaking in the middle and cutting his warning off. Makoto, to his limited credit, does stop but he doesn’t leave. He looks down at him, at the great Byakuya Togami, heir of the Togami conglomerate, with concern and worry and pity.

Byakuya is still shaking, his eyes are still on the cusp of watering, but the shame and anger that bled into him, ripping him apart…they now have a new target. Makoto needs to not be looking at him like that. In fact he needs to not be here at all, the fatal witness to Byakuya Togami’s fall from grace.

Again.

Those big hazel eyes are staring straight through him and he is strung tight with tension. Makoto’s voice is low and carrying when he finally speaks.

“Byakuya…are you injured? I heard the doctors say you were fine but…Is there something wrong?”

Byakuya manages to twist his face into a sneer, “Oh? You think you have any right to question me? Know your place commoner…I’m perfectly fine and it is None Of Your Business.”

He enunciates those last words carefully and angrily, putting as much vitriol into them as he can muster.

Makoto flinches back, presumably at his tone, potentially at his most-likely deranged expression. Despite that, Makoto’s expression only becomes more intense in its concern and he shuffles forward along the floor.

“I’m your friend Byakuya…Of course I’d think it’s alright for me to ask if you’re okay. Which I still don’t think you are, by the way. You know it’s really not good to hide an injury-”

“I do not need your help or your concern and you need to stop looking at me like that!”

“Wha- What? Byakuya—“

“Shut up! Don’t touch me!”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounds through the corridor, as loud as thunder. A ragged gasp follows shortly after. Byakuya cannot tell whether it is him or Makoto that it comes from. Time seems frozen to him and the ringing in his ears is so loud.  

Makoto shrinks back, cheek already turning into the faint red outline of a hand.

Byakuya didn’t mean to hit him, hadn’t meant to rebuff him in so physical—so crude— a way. He had panicked. Makoto had come too close, whether to calm him or check him for an injury he didn’t know, but it had been too close to touching, to dispensing his pity and sullying a Togami with soft, condescending care.  

There is a moment of tense unhappy silence.

“I’m sorry”

What.

“For getting in your space when you didn’t want me to…and I guess for just not leaving you alone...I kinda obviously didn’t help huh?” Makoto laughs that little self-deprecating laugh of his, soft and self-conscious.

Byakuya doesn’t understand why Makoto’s the one apologising. Except he does, and it is truly an un-intelligent and un-Togami-like thing to be surprised. Of course Makoto would apologise. It was his fault for not respecting Byakuya’s warnings and personal space. It is a commoners place to take the blame for such situations.

Even if he had also been rightfully concerned over his…friend’s… well-being, and had done what was in Makoto’s nature to do; poke his nose where it doesn’t belong and persistently and insufferably attempt to help.

He shouldn’t have slapped him. It was base and unnecessary, and the fact he was overcome with embarrassment and anger does not sound as good of a justification as he thought it should.

“You’re still not leaving.” Byakuya manages to say it clearly despite the cottony feel of his mouth and his stubborn prides insistence, despite feeling as though he has been shocked into a clearer state of mind.

“I know…” Makoto sighs and in that moment his exhaustion reveals itself. It reminds Byakuya that it probably wasn’t just him affected by the mission. That of course Makoto, with all his infinite capacity to care, would most likely be suffering too.

“I just apologised for it but…I’m still worried about you. I don’t want to abandon a friend when they’re hurting…Sorry. Again. ”

“I’m not injured.”

“H-huh?”

“Don’t stutter, it’s unseemly,” he rebukes, albeit a little weakly. It seems the emotional weakness he has suffered was now going to leech his physical strength as well.  “…I was not injured; the doctors were correct. So, you have no reason for concern. I am utterly physically fine.”

“You’re not though; you’re half collapsed in a hallway shaking as hard as a leaf.”

“….I was… more affected by our last mission than I thought. It was nothing, so stop worrying about it.”

It is through gritted teeth that byakuya manages to admit this, the only consolation being that it will make Makoto leave faster and stop bothering him. Then he can go back to his quarters and try to forget all about this moment of weakness

He’s wrong, of course. Makoto goes sharp eyed and more wary than before, and does not look at all satisfied or happy with his answer.

“That’s not nothing, Byakuya. If it was nothing you wouldn’t be so upset. I won’t-“ Byakuya had gone to speak, to rebuke his accusations however accurate they were, but Makoto, Naegi Makoto the ultimate pushover, had put up a hand as though to silence him and continued. “I won’t push you about it…But, if it keeps happening or if it has been happening for a while already, you should…well you should probably talk to someone. I’m not saying it has to be me or anything! They have a great psyche department here, they’re all really nice, and well, you could always talk to one of the others too.”

Makoto must see Byakuya grimace because he laughs a little, that same self-deprecating laugh like he understands but is too self-conscious to voice it. He doesn’t stop though.

“But the point is, that you should talk to someone. I found…that it helped me, when I was getting flash backs to our time in the…to when we were in hope’s peak, to talk to someone. It helped to share some of the load.”

He smiles at him then, small and sad and unfathomably warm.

Byakuya…he feels on one hand disgust at this attempt to sympathise and understand each other as equals. It was against everything his personal code stood for, aloofness and superiority above all else.

But he is also tired. Physically, from the suppression of his earlier panic attack and emotionally…the toll from the flash backs, from the memories and dreams, were starting to wear on him. His pride, His stubborn unending pride that he carries like a shield, would normally never allow such thoughts but Makoto…Stupid, soft Makoto and the utter embarrassment of being seen like that had him considering alternate measures than repression.

“Ha, you are truly insufferable you know. They shouldn’t be calling you the ultimate hope, more like the ultimate busy-body.” He sighs long and low as Makoto makes an awkward little noise and rubs the back of his head shyly.

“I suppose that’s an important part of the job, being nosy.” He smiles again, a little brighter it seems now that Byakuya is in a better mood. He starts the arduous job of attempting to pull himself upright again, re-adjusting his glasses on his face as he does. Makoto springs up a moment before him and offers his hand in the universal symbol of help.

Byakuya smacks it away, lightly and a little cautiously, and scowls up at him. “I am not a child Makoto, I do not need your help getting up. I have already had enough of your pity for one evening.”

“A-ah, sorry-”

“Although,” and Byakuya allows a little slyness to slip through his tone at this juncture, “I feel if you truly want to ‘help’, you should do as your station in life dictates and be subservient to me.”

“Uum, what--?”

“I desire a glass of fresh spring water Makoto. Go fetch it.”

The look of incredulous shock on Makoto’s face is refreshing, almost as refreshing as that water will be on his parched throat. Byakuya levels him with an appropriate glare and makes a questioning little, “hm?” before Makoto seems to find him serious and puts on a more…bashful expression.

“Sure thing, Byakuya. Do you want me to bring it to you here..?”

“No, you dullard. I would like it in my room. I expect it in 5 minutes, don’t make me wait.”

Laughing a little, Makoto sets off.

Byakuya watches him until he turns the corner. Dark thoughts leer at him from the back of his mind, but they do not settle.

Talking to Makoto, even as disastrously as it had gone, had in fact made Byakuya feel better. Those weighty considerations were a future problem now.

The thoughts still sting, but perhaps in the way that the first touch of antiseptic to a wound stings.

A painful but healing touch.

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN     Pt. 11 Who Will Know

Grave robbers!

There shall be hell to pay for robbing his grave; disturbing his rest and peace. The magician’s fury explodes forth now!  But how?! No one will like the answer.

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon

THE WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS CHAPTER.

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness, cancer

^These warnings are here for the story as a whole. If you get invested by reading a less graphic chapter, then be prepared for the warnings above in other parts!!

“If I die in this world, who will know something of me? 

I am lost, no-one knows, there’s no trace of my yearning.

But I must carry on, nothing worse can befall. 

All my fears, all my tears, tell my heart, there’s a hole. 

I wear a void, not even hope. A downward slope, is all I see.

As long as breath comes from my mouth, I may yet stand the slightest chance. 

A shaft of light is all I need to cease the darkness killing me.”

-“Who Will Know” Shin Godzilla, 2016

That dismal day of the funeral was relatively uneventful, even though the remaining members of the sinister six had attended alongside their hated enemy. The Avengers perhaps wished to apprehend them, however Otto was once more several steps ahead of them. A quick teleportation device was all that was needed to evade their would-be captors after the service was over. 

However gaudy it was, Beck had finally gotten that statue of himself he joked about having once he became famous. Was it in poor taste? Perhaps, perhaps not. Alexandria Beck paid no mind to it. All she could do at the service was stare at the ground where her brother laid six feet under, feeling only the hallow void that often lingered in their family like a curse. 

Maria Beck was quiet. She was a well mannered child; she did not really get what was going on. The last two Becks left immediately after the funeral. There was nothing in New York they could ever want or stay for. Not anymore. 

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

A week has passed since he was buried. Otto was always the mistrustful type. Something to do with consistent bullying and betrayals throughout his life. That being said, was it so unheard of to keep cameras around the grave site of your recently deceased friend? For Otto, it wasn’t. 

The alarm was raised and Octavius was roused from a rather unhappy slumber. Chameleon was already up. Someone had dared to disturb Beck’s rest? There would be hell to pay indeed. Wasting no time, the pair of them left immediately to confront the grave robbers.

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

It had recently rained, loosening up the soil. The group in question were known body thieves. They often targeted mutants for their DNA. 

Graverobber 1: “Hhhff... they buried this guy... really well...! The soil is packed.”

Graverobber 2: “Should we haul off the statue, too? It has bronze and gold plating. Could be worth a good amount once it’s stripped down.”

Graverobber 3: “We could, but I’d rather get the body more than anything. Do you know how much we could sell the Slayer of a Herald of Galactus for? I also heard they guy had undergone a super soldier serum prototype procedure. We could sell part of him to Hydra for sure. Maybe just his arm.”

Grave robber 2: “The armor is one of a kind. AIM wants the teleporter and quantum matter displacer for 500 million dollars.”

Graverobber 1: “Holy shit, I know you said millions but daaamn... hffff almost there.... I can see part of the coffin... I hope it won’t smell too bad...”

Graverobber 3: “Well, it’s been about a week, so I wouldn’t expect anything exactly good...”

Otto: “...You imbeciles...”

The grave robbers whirled around at the sudden voice, but before they could react, a pair of Octavius’s metal arms had constricted one of them, threatening to snap his neck. The other two pulled out their guns, ready to shoot, when Chameleon lunged out of hiding, tackling and pinning one of them to the ground, his knife against his neck.

The last robber was afraid, and in his panic, called through a radio for reinforcements as Otto swung an arm at him, knocking the fool to the ground. 

Otto was about to land a killing blow when Spider-Man leaped into action, landing a web on the robber and pulling him out of the way as the metal tentacle slammed into the ground where the body snatcher had been half a second before. The robber was far from free, however for he soon found himself wrapped up and immobilized by Spider-Man’s webs. 

Otto: “Spider-Man... We have trash that needs to be cleaned up.”

Spider-Man: “Yeah, but I’m not lettin’ you kill them either Doctopus. I’m taking them to the police.”

Chameleon: “They deserve far worse, Spider. These... this SCUM has robbed probably hundreds of graves... Imagine all the stolen bodies they have desecrated! If you turn them in, I have no doubt in my mind that their friends and clients would break them out once more to tear up more of the dead.”

Spider-Man: “Okay, Chammy, I’m gonna need you to calm down. I’m just as much against grave robbing as any other wall crawler, but creating more dead people isn’t the answer! Let him go and I’ll handle this!”

Otto: “Your track record of ‘handling things’ is mediocre at best. Turning them in will solve nothing. Only direct action will!”

With that, Otto began to crush his ensnared victim. Peter lunged at the pair, attempting to save the idiot who had incurred the wrath of the sinister six. In doing so, some of the excavation equipment fell into the grave, busting open the coffin. The smell wafting out was.... far from pleasant. This made Otto fly more into a rage, whipping his arm to slam Peter right in the chest, knocking the wind completely out of him.

The robber pinned by Chameleon took the opportunity to try and tase the super villain. Chameleon was agile enough to dodge the nearly point-blank attack, but lost his grip on his victim. The thief quickly got to his feet as three more of his friends hurried onto the scene, guns pointed at the two sinister six members and Spider-Man.

Being surrounded and having no real options, the trio stood down as the grave robbers unwebbed their friend. 

Grave robber 4: “Well. It’s not everyday that we get to cart away an extra three bodies, boys!”

Otto: “Do not assume that you can kill us so easily. You will leave here with nothing. Not even your own lives, you vermin.”

As if almost on cue, bright green mist began to slowly fog around the graveyard.

Spider-Man: “...you doin’ this, Ock?”

Otto: “..No... I’m not...”

The robbers seemed perturbed by the sudden fog, however they kept their aim straight, ready to shoot.

That was until a plume of thick green smoke roiled out of the open grave. Everyone recoiled as the sound of cracking mahogany and scrape of metal could be heard below. 

Beck lurched and pulled himself out of his own tomb, raggedly wheezing. He was covered in dirt, mud, and his own blood. His armor was still as torn open as it was on the day he died, his helmet busted open.

The sight of him made everyone’s heart stop. His face was withered and had an expression of enraged confusion. His chest gaped open, his ribs exposed to the night air as his rotting innards hung dangling from what little flesh still held them together. 

Beck staggered to his feet, barely keeping his balance as air hissed in and out of his dilapidated mouth and his torn lungs. He stared at the crowd for a moment, trying to take in his surroundings, he blinked at the sight of Otto and Chameleon, lurching slowly toward them.

Beck: “Otto...? Chameleon...? where.. szztt.. am I...?”

His mouth did not move, but his voice came out all the same. It was distorted and sounded... like it was coming from the speaker within his helmet.

Spider-Man: “Quentin..? What’s...how...? You need to stop moving, you’re coming apart!”

At Parker’s indication, Beck took a better look at himself. Stammering and stuttering at the sight of his own torn carcass. The horror on his face made it all so much worse.

Beck: “HHzztt... h-how... Otto, h-help me.. wh-what..s.. happening?”

Realization at the situation sent an abysmally cold chill down Octavius’s metal spine.

Otto: “...The neutral net,” He breathed. “The neutral net I made for you to control your robots.... It must have... copied your mind into it’s processor... Your body is being animated... by the nano machines in your blood that helped link your suit to your body and repair damaged tissues... Quentin... You... died.”

Mysterio was quiet for a minute, clearly trying to process everything.

Beck: “.....r-right.... Terrax.... I.. was stabbed... I... I’m dead... I was alright with it too... It wasn’t so bad.... I was... shzzt... peace...”

He looked back at his grave, dirt, mud, and tools spread everywhere. His statue stood resolute, with all the authority of fate itself, standing by to judge the wicked on this night.

Beck turned back towards them.

Neo Mysterio: “I was... Alright with it. I was. At. Peace.” 

He gritted his teeth, rage in his mechanical voice. With his dead eyes he glared at the tormentors who would rob him of his rest. His claws came out with an audible “shink!”

Grave robber 2: “H-hey..! S-sorry man! We.. uh. We are just t-tryin’ to make a livin’ in this world, ya know?? We didn’t mean it!! We’ll go! ‘c-cmon guys..! Let’s scram!”

Grave robber 5: “Hell no, he died once, he’ll die again, just shoot the bugger and let’s go!”

A few of them shot at Quentin, the bullets either bouncing harmlessly off of his carbonadium shell or tearing into an already festering corpse.

Beck: “YOU ROBBED ME OF THE LAST THING I HAD IN THIS WORLD! YOU ROBBED ME OF MY PEACE!!”

He marched forward, bullets pounding against him relentlessly as he continued unperturbed by the deadly barrage. Spider-Man, Chameleon, and Octavius dared not get caught in the line of fire, rather they took cover from the spray of bullets scattering across the graveyard.

Relentless, now that was a fun word. He was going to take absolute revenge here and now. Relentless was how he was going to tear them limb from limb and make them feel every bit of agony his soul felt right now.

Beck: “I WAS FINALLY HAPPY. I WAS FINALLY CONTENT WITH MYSELF. I WAS FINALLY OKAY WITH LETTING IT ALL GO. FOR SO MANY DAMN YEARS I HATED EVERYTHING I DID AND EVERYTHING I HAD BECOME. I HAD FINALLY DONE SOMETHING I AND OTHERS WERE TRULY PROUD OF. 

I PAID FOR MY SINS WITH MY DAMN LIFE AND YOU COME HERE OUT OF GREED TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME?! HOW ABOUT I TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM YOU!!!”

Spider-Man: “Beck! STOP!!”

He was a second from tearing his claws into one of their faces when he was dragged out of his atomic rage. Spider-Man yanked the robber out of Quentin’s hands and flung two web bombs at the rest of them, securely immobilizing them to the ground.

Otto: “Quentin! Enough! Enough. You don’t have to keep fighting, it’s.. it’s over.”

Beck paused for a second. The anger still boiled within him. He was a victim, it wasn’t right that he could not take matters into his own hands. It wasn’t fair! 

....Maybe Doc was right, of course. Killing these bastards was their goal, but would it solve anything? Would it make anything better? No. It really wouldn’t. It would only drive them deeper into the hate that had already consumed them.

Beck let his hands fall to his sides. Spider-Man took that has his queue to get out of there and alert the police.

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

With the arrival of the cops, the three reunited members of the sinister six had to leave. At the base, they were met with Sandman staring at them in disbelief. His friend was back from the dead! However zombie-like he appeared, Flint was a kind soul and could not stop himself from welcoming back Mysterio with a hug.

Quentin remained rather silent. He didn’t know how to take anything anymore. He felt as hollow as he physically was. He.. was dead. He was gone. He had been unwillingly dragged back into suffering. A cloud of depression clung to Beck as Otto worked on a way to reverse the bodily decay and fix Quentin. 

Fix Quentin. How can you “fix” a dead man? How can you undo such a traumatic thing as dying? It was certainly interesting once his brain was reanimated. The human brain dies in about five minutes after circulation has been cut off. Beck had been dead for over a week. 

His brain had to be completely regrown, along with most of his innards, slowly through the use of nano machines and intense stem cell cloning therapy that Otto had just delved into. The absolute cutting edge of health care. It could not actually bring back the dead, however. The copy of Beck’s brain patterns were pivotal in restoring his best friend. 

Having his mind transferred back into his body was a melting mix of sensations. All of his nerves felt on fire. He was back. His armor and body fixed, the sinister six were whole once more. 

They tried to get things back to a sense of normalcy. It had been a rough month. Overall, things were back to how they were, but Beck felt differently.

He felt... different. He did not know how to put it, and Otto could tell it was bugging him. Was he alive? He had truly died. Was he just a copy and the real Mysterio was long gone? At this point, it was schrodinger’s magician. 

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

The news had caught wind of the incident, and the Daily Bugle published a story from an anonymous tip that proved Beck was back from the grave. Photographs and video to boot, thanks to Parker.  Quentin was enraged at Spider-Man for filming and photographing his dead body in such a back handed manner. There would be consequences for this disgrace. The news of his ressurrection also sent a chill through the super villain community, and gave the sinister six a new found respect. 

Not even death could stop them. 

Not that it meant anything to Beck. He was listless. They were going to continue with Octavius’s plan like before, but his heart was not nearly as into it as before, at least at first. He owed his friend his life twice over now. He was not about to let Otto down, no matter what happened.

Beck was heartened to hear his sister’s cancer had regressed. The operation date to remove the tumor was already set.

[iseppie]

this this this. i was in a heavy psychotic episode for a while and i still have to watch and manage certain symptoms, but nothing like when the ball dropped for what was probably ~1 year and maybe more. one of the problems that came to mind when i read this was that i had a lot of trouble brushing my teeth regularly. I have alters, and a couple(?) of them would occasionally help me out, but otherwise, it was bad. if my breath smelled, though, i would lose my absolute shit and start panicking and thinking i was dying. my body would hurt from the inside and i would feel myself rotting because i thought that i was rotting. i found out it wasn’t even that bad after the fact, but i remember looking at my mouth and my teeth and not being able to see clearly, but seeing little spots and colors that made me know for sure i really was rotting. i wasn’t. it was a hallucination. but people act like just because negative symptoms aren’t flashy or “big”, they’re not important or need to be paid attention to.

yeah? this is just one example of a single aspect of a negative symptom causing me to go into full panic override and into a bad delusion. Please pay attention to people speaking out who have suffered through it, and don’t only pay attention to sensationalized versions or aspects of very real illnesses.

it does blow me away how little people are aware of the negative symptoms of schizophrenia/other related conditions ('negative' here meaning an absence of a normal behavior)

like its not just delusions and hallucinations, it can be withdrawing from your relationships and having no drive to connect (even if you know on some level you want to), it can be speech problems, a lack of pleasure in normal aspects of life (social, physical, etc), difficulty taking care of yourself that goes deeper than just depression or executive dysfunction, etc. its really worth being aware of and figuring into your activism

[wittygaypuns]

How about Hermann destroying Alice in front of Newt?

Boy howdy I love these two! 

Let me know if you need anything tagged in this. It’s essentially what anon asked for so it gets a tad graphic.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Alice.

Alice.

A name so sweet but so full of horrors, a pseudonym for the entitythat had held a razor-sharp grip on Newton's mind. It all fell intoplace for Hermann. The sudden clarity made him feel ill, wrong, hisstomach lurching at the sight of the lipstick-adorned name on thetank. A pockmarked alien brain, afloat in a horribleyellowish-greenish liquid, barely seeming alive but still very muchthere. The board beside it assured that; blue-lit vital signs for thewretched thing read clearly that it lived, that its brainwaves werestrong. 

It was that foul thing that had kept Newton away for so long.It was that monstrous entity that had changed the man he loved,stolen him away and replaced him with some cheap fabrication inexpensive clothing. 

“Isn't she beautiful?” Newton's voice came from behind; Hermannwhipped around, gripping his cane so tight that his knuckles wentbone-white.   

“Newton. This – this thing... You've been drifting with it. Forten years, you've been drifting with it.” Hermann's voice waschoked as he fought back the bile rising in his throat. 

“She shows me wonderful things, Hermann... You should give it atry. Why do you think I invited you over? We talk about you a lot. Iknow they would love to get to know you, the way they know me.”Newton sounded wrong. His voice was somewhere far away, his tonedreamy, as if he were drugged.   

“I will not allow this to continue, Newton. I cannot. Thedamage this must have done to you... I – I'm so sorry. I shouldhave seen it sooner.” Hermann said. A shadow seemed to pass over Newton's expression, and within itHermann could see a hundred emotions flickering through him at once.Newton's body began to tremble, his fingers curling into fists.Hermann watched the minute changes in his face, the way his jawclenched tight and his brows twitched as if holding back some greatpain, his eyes filling with tears. Hermann took a step forward,unwilling to show his fear. 

“Hermann, it would be... best if you left. If you aren't going t-toaccept this, then I don't want you in my life. Get out. Get out now!”Newton shrieked it. In his voice, Hermann heard a fear so deep thatit left a bitter taste in his mouth. In his voice, Hermann heard him. 

“Newton. I know you're there – fight, damn you. Fight them!”Hermann surged forward, grabbing him by the collar. “I'm here,Newton, and I will never let you go again! I will free you from them,no matter what it takes.”   

And then, a hand on his throat, gripping tight. Hermann gasped hissurprise as he felt himself crumple to the floor, Newton's grasp onhis throat vicious and intent on squeezing the life from him. Hebrought his hand up, desperate to wrest him off but unwilling toattack him to do so. He would rather die than hurt the other man, nomatter the reason. Newton's teeth were bared, grinding together, andHermann could almost feel the power struggle happening within him. 

“Fight, Newton!” Hermann hissed, trying to jam his own fingersbeneath Newton's. 

“They – they're too strong, Hermann. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!”Newton sobbed. 

“You are stronger!” Hermann mouthed, his vision beginning to blurat the edges.  

“He is weak!” A voice that Hermann had only heard in hisnightmares came, speaking through Newton's lips. 

Something clicked for Hermann, then. He would rather die than to hurtNewton – but Newton fought now against his own body, against hisown mind. Perhaps the Precursors were right, and Newton was weak...But who wouldn't be, after fighting for ten long years alone? If hewas weak, it was only because he didn't have Hermann at his side. They could forgive each other for hurting one another, but Hermannwould never forgive himself if he let Newton suffer this atrocity anylonger.  As his body began to go limp, Hermann mustered every bit ofstrength he could into his arm. His cane was still in his hand, hisgrip too tight to have dropped it. And with that cane, he freedhimself, by way of a hard strike across Newton's back. 

The shock loosened his grip enough for Hermann to free himself,gasping for air as he backed away, blinking the tears from his eyesas he watched Newton collect himself, standing up quickly. Hermannpractically jumped to his feet; he was anything but able-bodied, butadrenaline kept the pain at bay, and  blinding desperation moved hisfeet. Cane still in hand, he swung with all his strength at the boardconnected to the tank. Delicate machinery gave way to the steelhandle of the cane, the middle lighting up with fractals of rainbowtinted cracks. He struck again, and again, until the board, and thetank, went dark. 

He could hear Newton screaming where he had backed away.   

“I will not allow this thing to hold you any longer, Newton.”Hermann whispered, his throat raw. 

“No!” The beast spoke through Newton, who moved towards him,steps stunted, uncoordinated.  

The Precursors were losing control. 

“Yes! Fight, Newton! I am with you!” Hermann yelled back, liftingthe cane again to focus now on the tank itself.   

He swung, and swung, and swung again, vengeance buzzing through hismind. The creature would die, and the Precursors would see it throughthe eyes of the ones they tried to steal from him. He continued tocrack his cane against the tank, his aim true. He was the Hand ofGod, striking the beast from the earth, wresting its control away totrouble them no longer. Finally, a crack appeared in the tanks glass.A hairline fracture that grew with each strike, until the grotesquefluid containing the brain began to spill forth.  The Precursorswailed through Newton as the brain began to pull into the vacuumcreated by his cane, its meat ripping on the shattered glass.   

Hermann did not stop. His anger was so great that he did not stopuntil the thing sloshed out of the tank and to his feet, and eventhen he did not stop. He focused his fury on it, on the disgustingmass of rotting flesh that had robbed ten years from the life of theonly man who had ever meant anything to him. Ten years that theycould have had together, ten years they could have spent making alife together. Ten years they would never get back. For those tenyears, Hermann would collect his pound of flesh, beating any sign oflife out of the brain. He continued until he could no longer move hisarms, and the cane slipped from his grasp. 

“Newton.” Hermann whispered, turning to the man.   

Newton was curled up on the floor, eyes wide and bloodshot. Hermannran to him, dropping to his knees and gathering the smaller man intohis arms. He was soaked with the fluid from the tank, but Hermanndidn't care. The only thing that mattered was knowing if he was okay– if the death of the creature had broken him in some way, or if hecould recover. 

“Newton?” Hermann said, looking down at his face. 

“Hermann...” Newt whimpered, a shaking hand rising to touchHermann's. 

“I'm here, Newton. Always.” Hermann said.

“I knew you would save me. You're a rockstar.” Newton said. 

Hermann laughed in a way that barely masked the sob threatening torip from his throat.   

“Don't be ridiculous. That's your thing.” Hermann squeezed himgently, relishing in the sensation of finally having Newton in hisarms. 

Hearing him speak in such a way affirmed to Hermann that he could recover.Relief poured into the wound deep in his soul, gently scrubbing awaythe pains and aches of the last ten years.  It was time they wouldnever get back – but at least now, they could make up for it.