#remembering why i hate spinning from roving right now

[milkweedman]

Spinning some brown shetland right now and Geryon is in top form tonight. One of my favorite sounds for sure.

[journalofimprobablethings]

When Martin wakes up in those slow, golden mornings at Upton House, it sometimes takes him a moment to remember where he is.

The first morning--the first real morning, not the strange, groggy awakening after their seventy-hour collapse--he thought they were back in Scotland. He thought, for a brief, heady moment, that everything that had happened since he left Jon to read that statement had been a dream--just one long, awful nightmare. That he would go downstairs to their tiny kitchen and make tea and Jon would sleepily stumble down a few minutes later and join him at the window, wrapping his arms tight around Martin's waist, and together they would watch the mist burn off over the fields of grass and heather and no horrors. That the quiet, fragile life they'd built there still existed.

It didn't last, of course. All too soon, he remembered where he was, and everything that had happened to get them there. But Martin treasures the memory of that feeling, and all the small moments of normalcy they have stolen in the last few days here. They may not be in Scotland, but they have gotten to sleep--in a bed--and he has savored every moment where he gets to wake up under soft covers, Jon's limbs sprawled across him with an abandon he only ever achieves in sleep.

This morning, when Martin wakes, Jon is on his own side of the bed for once, no arms tossed across Martin's chest or legs tangled with his--but he still holds one of Martin's hands clasped lightly on the pillows between them, fingers loosely linked. Martin lets out a deep sigh of something dangerously close to contentment, and rolls over to face Jon.

Jon's eyes are open, as always. (It had taken some getting used to, Jon sleeping with his eyes open. Martin will never tell Jon how much it unnerves him.) Now, though, Jon's eyes are alert, awake. He is looking at Martin with a sort of quiet wonder, a perfect reflection of what Martin feels whenever he rolls over and sees Jon next to him and realizes, all over again, that this is real.

"Good morning," Martin murmurs softly.

"Good morning," Jon says, and he says it like it's the most miraculous sentence in the world. In a way, with everything they’ve been through, it is.

Martin leans in to kiss Jon, soft and slow with sleep. He takes his time, because he can do that here, because just for this moment they are together and safe from monsters and they can have this.

Jon starts, just a little, when Martin's lips meet his, and when he returns Martin's kiss he is gentle and cautious, as though he is afraid he will break Martin if he moves too fast. It reminds Martin a little of how he was in those first days in Scotland, when they were both still moving so slowly, feeling out boundaries, still in awe that this was happening at all. Then he pulls away all at once, his breath slightly ragged.

"You all right?" Martin asks.

Jon nods. "Yes. I just...it's a bit..." He frowns a little, the frown he gets when he's trying to find the right way to phrase something.

Martin thinks he knows what he means. "I know, I'm still not used to it. Being in someone else's house."

Jon's frown deepens, and Martin reaches up, unthinking, to smooth his thumb over the crease between Jon's brows.

"I mean, not that I think that Annabelle or Salesa would walk in on us or anything," he says, "but--"

"Annabelle?"

Jon's voice is suddenly sharp. He leans away from Martin's hand, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at him properly.

“Annabelle Cane? She’s here?”

It's like someone has poured ice water down the back of Martin's neck.

He looks up at Jon, scrutinizing his face. His expression holds confusion and apprehension but none of the vagueness that's been creeping over him the past few days, the symptoms of being cut off from the Eye. He looks lucid, fully present.

Still, Martin has to fight to keep his voice steady as he answers.

"Ye-yeah. She let us in, remember? She's staying here, in Salesa's house. He told us about it that first day. Uninvited houseguest, and all that."

Jon shakes his head.

"Annabelle. Of course." He flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Can't get away from the Web even in my dreams. Should've known there would be something else when this wasn't a statement."

Wait.

Dreams?

A sick swoop of anxiety passes through Martin, like an electric current.

"Jon, this isn't--you know you're awake right now, right?"

Jon laughs, low and mirthless.

"No, I'm not."

You--you are, though. This is real, this isn't a dream." Martin gives a small, nervous laugh. "I--I know it feels a bit like one, after everything, but--"

"Yes, it is," Jon says, with absolute certainty. "This is a dream. It has to be."

"Why?"

Martin is so afraid of the answer, but he has to ask.

Jon looks at Martin then, with such sadness and longing in his eyes that Martin can barely stand to hold his gaze. "I wouldn't be here with you otherwise."

“What are you talking about, of course you--” Martin stops, a sudden horrible thought coming to him as he thinks again of how Jon has been the last few days, staring off into space, tailing off in the middle of sentences.

"Jon, what's the last thing you remember? Before you--before now?"

Jon's brow furrows. "I...I went to sleep in the Archives. On the cot, for once. Was too tired to avoid it any longer. I never thought--I didn't think I got to dream about good things, anymore." He looks up at Martin, that same sad and longing look. "This is a nice change."

Martin takes a deep breath, trying to tamp down the growing panic clawing at his throat.

"I miss you, Martin," Jon continues. He doesn't seem to notice Martin's quickening breath beside him. "I know you said we have to stay apart, and I trust you, I do, but--god. I miss you. There are so many things I never--things I should have realized, should have said sooner, and now..."

Jon trails off, his eyes roving Martin's face as though he's trying to memorize it. Normally, Martin would blush under that seeking gaze, soaking in Jon's keen attention. But now his mind is too busy spinning over Jon's words and their implications.

It's worse now than losing the thread of a conversation--Jon is losing time. He's forgetting. If the last thing he remembers is the Archives, is Martin falling deeper under Peter's influence, then that means--

Oh, god." Martin sits up so abruptly that his head spins. Next to him Jon's forehead creases in worry.

"Martin?"

It means Jon's forgotten the Lonely, pulling Martin out of that beach,

He's forgotten Scotland, the cottage, those three weeks of stolen peace,

He's forgotten the Change, and everything they've been through since.

"God, no. Shit."

"Martin, what's wrong?"

"We have to get you out of here."

Martin throws off the covers and makes to get out of bed, but Jon's hand shoots out and grabs his arm as he starts to get up.

“No, Martin, please. I’m sorry. If I said something wrong, I’m sorry. But please, I don’t know how long this will last. I want to stay with you. Please.”

Martin forces himself to stop, to slow, to turn and place his hand over Jon's where it's clutching at his arm.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon. I swear, I will never leave you. But we have to get out of this house. Now.”

“Why? Is there something here?" Jon gives a sharp, bitter laugh. “Of course. That didn’t take long. Nightmare, is it?”

"No, no, it’s not like that, but--all that stuff--with Peter, and the Archives--that was months ago.” His mouth twists. “Or, well--I’m not really sure how long ago it was; time doesn’t really work anymore, but it’s been a long time and--”

He can hear the hysteria creeping into his own voice, register rising and words beginning to trip over each other as they crowd out of his mouth too quickly. He stops, closing his eyes for just a second, wishing his heart would stop its hummingbird-fast beat in his chest.

When he opens his eyes, Jon is staring at him. His hands are fisted tight in the blankets and his eyes are so wide that Martin can see the whites all around his irises.

“Martin, what are you saying?”

I’m saying that you're not dreaming, Jon. You're awake. You've just--there's something here messing with your mind, something making you forget."

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Jon’s hands clutch the blankets tighter, and he frowns.

"You realize this is a very dream-like conversation."

Martin can’t help but smile a little at the hint of dry skepticism in Jon’s voice. He knows Jon well enough to know that that skepticism is a defense mechanism, a wall he puts up to protect himself against something that he’s not quite ready to admit he believes.

He reaches out and takes Jon’s hands in his, gently untangling his fingers from their tight grip on the quilt. Jon starts a little at the contact, but he doesn’t resist. 

"Jon, you've been dreaming nothing but statements for months. Years, now. Why would it have suddenly changed?"

That crease reappears between Jon’s brows, and he looks down at where his fingers are entwined with Martin’s, as though the tangle of their fingers is a puzzle he can solve, if he only looks at it hard enough.

"I--yes. You're right, I...So this is...Martin?"

Martin smiles when Jon’s eyes meet his and squeezes his hand reassuringly.

"Hi."

"You're really here. This is really happening."

"Yes."

"So then how--where--" Jon's eyes widen. "The Eye, I can't--Martin, where--"

"It's alright, Jon. Just breathe."

Jon's eyes are wide and his hands clutching Martin's so tight it hurts a little, but he does as Martin says and sucks several deep breaths. 

"Why can't I feel it? We didn't--did we find a way to quit? Another way?"

Martin's heart cracks open at the hope in Jon's eyes. The light at the idea that somehow, they were able to get away. What are a few memories, he can see Jon thinking, if they are free? 

He wishes so badly that he could give a better answer, that he doesn't have to extinguish that light.

"No," he says quietly. No, we didn't.”

He hates the way Jon slumps in on himself at his words, the momentary electricity that had flowed through him at the idea of escape suddenly cut off. 

"We're in a place the Eye can't reach us." he says gently. "Temporarily."

"Right. You--you mentioned Annabelle. And Mikaele Salesa? I thought he was dead."

Martin can't help a small laugh. "He faked his death. This is his house."

"Salesa's house? But why? Why are we here, why would the Eye not be able to--"

Jon stops. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, visibly pushing down the torrent of questions, sorting through them to find the one that matters.

"What exactly have I forgotten?”

[katsukikitten]

Once upon a time

A/N welcome to day three (almost day four. Nothing like procrastinating) of Kitten's valentines day event. Here is a request by anon for a cinderella au with those horrid red crocs. I tried blending seriousness with a touch of comedy (God knows I specialise in angst) hopefully it comes off well. Bone apple teeth.

The ball to find your prince was tonight. A long awaited night as you brush your hair staring into the vanity. Lips and cheeks painted with light pinks with a blush dress to match. The dress acting as a preview for what is to come, a mock wedding dress if you will. Elegantly and obnoxiously long train, paired with the classic princess ball gown that flairs at your waist.

Heart pounding in your chest you stand waiting in your glass slippers, hair braided and pinned half up and half down to frame your face as it trundles down to your delicate shoulders.

"And now for our lady of the night, Princess Y/N!" A quick gulp before you step through the opening doors, smiling brightly at the throngs of men who have attended all wearing masks of blinding colors in hopes to be seen.

To be remembered.

Your night is spent mostly whisked around in nauseating circles handed off from man to man. You go from two toned hair, to a blabbering bright blonde, passed off to a jaded eyed man before you're head is spinning.

The jade eyed man is, how can you put it nicely?

Well you can't he's boring. An utterly ball of nerves boring. His hands are slick with sweat and he can barely hold eye contact to save his life as he says sorry every step of the dance despite not making a single error.

"May I?" A smooth voice inturrpts the emerald eyes apologies. You drink in the handsome man in stunning deep red that makes his gem eyes pop. Finaly excited for the first time tonight.

"Y...you may." He stammers passing your hand to a calloused hard working hand. A feeling you are unused to as most of the other men's hands were smooth. His other hand finds the small of your back as he sweeps you into a pleasantly slow paced dance.

"Your name my dear?" The first you've asked for this whole night. He smiles a sharp toothed smile as his velvet voice caresses your before agitated nerves.

"Ejirou." A shiver runs down your spine as you fixate on this stunning broad shouldered man.

Another turn before you notice that he has swept the two of you onto one of the many balconies just off of the hall.

"Ah look at the moon over head Eijirou!" He hates to admit that he loves the sound of his name on your lips. He bites his own trying and failing to remind himself that he does not truly belong here.

But a night with a beautiful princess is all he ever wished for.

You brace yourself agaisnt the railing as you stare into the face of your favorite celestial body. All the while ruby eyes watch your dainty form.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You sigh melting as you swoon over your first love. Eijirou places his hand on the balcony around you, pressing his hip to yours.

"No where near as beautiful as you." He breaths, leaning down to kiss feather soft lips. Rough hand pulling a slender waist impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss.

Bells chime overhead causing him to gasp out.

"Its midnight." He sounds panicked as he tries to take a step back. Eyes frantically looking for the exit.

"Why yes," You blink confused, hand clutching his blood red lapel, "But the party is until sunrise."

"I've got to go. Now. I'm sorry." He says as he rushes away while you're right on his heels.

Although he is much faster and much more hardy than you. You stop to catch your breath as he rushes down the endless stairs in front of the castle.

"Eijirou how will I find you?" He stops short at your request turning ever so slightly, disappointment and sadness well in his eyes as he answers.

"You can't." Another chime rings out sending him into a full on sprint as one of his blood red dress shoes fall wayward on the long stair case. You rush to clutch onto the shoe another chime rings out and by some magic the deep crimson dress shoe distorts into something horrifyingly grotesque.

A birght red slipper with holes and a band that would sit atop the heel or the top of the foot depending if one wanted it to be in "sport" mode or not.

You scrunch your nose especially after seeing little charms of different shapes and sizes ranging anywhere from a fire truck to the classic cartoon meat bone.

"What the fuck?" You murmur to yourself as you look over the odd shoe, debating if it would be worth it to attempt to find the handsome man with terrible taste in footwear.

A flash of ruby red burns hot in your memory as you stand calling off the rest of the ball to summon your best scouts.

"We will go over the entire land to see who fits this shoe!"

True to your word you spend countless weeks that bleed into months exhausting all resources to find your prince charming.

Men across the nation line up outside of their homes in hopes of fitting the red shoe. Some men spy the shoe and turn inside, while others step out in a clearly immitated bright red holed filled slipper.

Still your search is fruitless as you begin to run out of both men and houses to check. You stand in front of your last house for the day as two men rush from the door as a window shutter is slammed shut overhead.

"Princess!" They sing song in unison, "We brothers are the owner of the shoe!"

Your eyes rove over a bright blonde male and a short purple haired boy whose eyes pop from their sockets as they stare at your form. Even as you're wearing pants.

"Hmmm, my prince to be had red hair." You state, "Men we are mistaken let us leave at once."

"W..wait your highness, you have not even tried to place it on our feet yet! At least give us that much." They beg as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fine." With a snap of your fingers the horrific item is presented to you atop a velvet black pillow. You grab onto the item and place it to where a foot can be slipped in.

The blonde tries first, his toes poking out through some of the holes, popping out a fire truck charm as he attempts to shove his foot in.

Immediately you withdraw to present the shoe to the small boy. His foot barely fills the slipper causing a great sigh to leave your lips.

Tears threaten to spill over as you think that you may never find your one true love. You place the slipper back onto its pillow before you begin to climb the stairs to your carriage.

"Princess wait!" That velvet voice you had grown to love shouts as your frantically look for the source. He comes out in tattered clothes, soap suds clinging to his elbows as stains litter the cloth.

All the while the other two men are dressed in finary that could rival your own.

You look down to see he is wearing what must be the other slipper. As more of those ghastly charms twinkle in the dying light of the sun.

"Ah this is just our step brother. Please pay him no mind." The blonde says before elbowing him harshly, "Get back into the house you idiot!"

He clutches the scrub brush in his hands, ruby eyes glancing between you and his evil step brothers. He turns on his heel only for you to shout, fearing you may lose the man of your dreams again.

"No, he will be sized by the shoe. Should it fit he is mine to wed." The slipper is brought back to you once more, delicate hands wrap around the bright material as the red head presents his foot to you.

The God awful footwear fits and tears of joy stream down your face.

"E...Eijirou is it really you?" He nods shyly, embarrassed that he is in essentially a potato sack compared to what he wore the night he met you.

It was all with the help of an angry godfather who loomed in the courtyard the night of your ball.

"So you're just gonna let these assholes tell you you can't go?!" The Godfather had yelled, fingers popping with magic.

"Don't be a bitch." He bites out, turning a rotting carcass into a stunning white horse, "You're going and that's final."

Popping hands burning through Eijirou's tattered rags. Just a Phoenix something new rises from the ash. A beautifully tailored suit adorned with a bright red mask glimmering in the night like sparkling rubies.

"But you have until midnight to get the hell out of there." The GodFather snarls, "What are you waiting for a fucking invitation? Go kiss the damn girl! Just remember I said midnight and don't fuck this up."

He had left after that in an oversized explosion leaving nothing behind but the smell of sweet burning caramel.

Eijirou silently thanked the Godfather as he spun his princess around, cheeks burning from smiling so hard and feet sheathed in firetruck red crocs.

And they lived happily ever after.

[inorganicone2230]

Divine Intervention (Part 5) Yandere!Erasermic x Fem!Reader

Part 4 Part 6

Summary: Sometimes a little divine intervention is necessary to take back the ones we love... weather they want it or not.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, kidnapping, forced poly relationship, emotional and mental manipulation, extreme non-con elements, possible trigger warnings, see tags below for more...

Side Note: I do not and never will condone the actions committed in this and future chapters, please be mindful and respectful of the fact that all of this is purely fiction.

You fought the urge to punch, kick and scream. Anything to get away from these lunatics, but you already knew it would do you little good. They were just too damn strong.

Hizashi let out an exasperated sigh and gave his other beloved an “I told you so” kind of look. “Do you see why I wanted to keep her from remembering Shou? I knew she was going to be stubborn and difficult.”

“Perhaps you did have a point. But it's moot now, she knows everything.” He did agree that giving you your medicine so soon may have been a bit rushed on his part. He was just so eager to have things go back to normal. He knew that little things would never be the same, your reincarnation meant you were not the same as before. You might look the same, sound the same, even have many of the same mannerisms, but you were still a new person, even with the addition of your old memories. Raised in a time far from the one they met you in, you had a new name, new hobbies and interests, new likes and dislikes.

They knew when you finally hit a certain age -18 or so- that they were going to have to make some changes for this new you. Changes like agreeing to call you by your current name and not your old one, they only called you by that name in the dreams so as not to tip you off. They got rid of all your old possessions -save for a few very special ones with sentimental value- and replaced everything over the last few years. They built rooms to suit your new interests, a library filled with books from all sorts of different genres, a kitchen stocked with foods you loved to cook with, gardens filled to bursting with all sorts of new flora and fauna, a TV room sporting all your favorite movies and shows. They made sure you would want for nothing in The Heavens here with them. So why?

“Why can't you simply allow yourself to be happy here with us (Y/N)? We would do anything, be anything, give anything for you to simply be content with us here. So why continue to make yourself and us miserable.” Shouta asked, and though Hizashi remained silent, he too wanted answers to these questions.

You felt like your head was put on an extra spin cycle in the dryer. They genuinely seemed like they had no idea why you were so upset. And you weren't sure if this revelation had you feeling more terrified of them or more angry at them.

At the moment, anger seemed to be your driving emotion.

“Do you two honestly have no fucking idea why I'm upset?! Are you fucking kidding me right now?! Are you?!”

You received no answer from them, but that was fine, you had plenty to say to them.

“You kidnapped me not once, but TWICE! Stole me away from everything I know and love, forced me to remember things I would rather forget! You claim to love me, to want to make me happy, but you never asked what I wanted, you just made that decision FOR me! You never treated me like a person, you treated me like a fucking pet!” You were screaming by this point and in their shock at your outburst, Hizashi had released you from his lap, and you scrambled to your feet.

“You robbed me of everything and gave me nothing! Nothing! And nothing can or will ever make me love you!” You took a deep breath and looked them both directly in the eye. “You may call this place my home, but all it will ever be is my prison, a silk lined cage. You may call yourselves my lovers, my husbands, but all you are or ever will be are my captors and jailers. MY RAPISTS!”

You stopped, breathing heavy and heart and head pounding from the absurdity of this entire situation, to look at them. You hoped against all hope that you might see a flicker of understanding in their eyes, something to show that maybe your cries of desperation had reached them. But all you saw was shock and anger reflected back at you.

Both stood at once in graceful motions, their posture rigid and stiff.

“Is that what you see us as?”

“W-what?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper as you backed up. You weren't sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, but this cold anger was certainly not it.

“You see us as your rapists?” Shouta spat the vile word like it was poison.

You spoke without thinking, “Of chores I do! I begged you night after night not to touch me! But you did it anyway! You forced your way inside my body and subjected me to all of your depravity no matter how many times I said no! It was the very definition of the word and just the thought of the two of you ever being inside me again makes my skin crawl!” You closed your eyes and shivered at the revolting thought.

Closing your eyes was a mistake though, because in an instant they were touching you again. Sandwiched between them, Hizashi at your front and Shouta at your back, fear and dread consumed you as you realized what was about to probably happen. Their words simply confirmed it.

“We are going to teach you how much we love you Sweetling, and teach you to love us in return. By the time this night is done, your going to be crazy about us.” Hizashi whispered into your ear, even as you shake your head.

“We never raped you Kitten. We would never do something so horrendous to you and I’m truly sorry if that is how you remember our joining. But, perhaps you do need to be reminded of just how amazing we can make you feel.” Shouta continued, punctuating the last bit with a firm grind to your ass.

“This would be a lot easier if she wasn't wriggling around so much Shou. Will you go grab something?”

You felt Shouta walk away from you and even without his considerable strength to keep you in place, you were still no match against the blonde. “NO! Let go of me! Please please don't do this!” Your pleas and cries went ignored and your tears were swept away by Hizashi’s eager tongue. He tried to calm you down with promises of how incredible this was going to be, but all it did was fuel your drive to escape.

Quicker than you would have preferred, Shouta’s heat returned to your back. “Can you keep her still for just a moment Zashi?”

Hizashi did as his lover requested and wrapped his arms more tightly around you while Shouta gently wrenched your arms behind your back. You felt him wrapping something soft and smooth around your wrists and forearms and tie them together, each wrist near the elbow of the opposite arm. When he was done you could flex your fingers, but that was the extent of what your arms were capable of.

“You look so good like this Kitten.” Shouta’s hoarse voice murmured into your hair, “I just know your going to love this, we’ll make you feel so good and cum so many times that you’ll never be able to think of this as anything close to rape.”

Hizashi shared the same sentiment as he gently grasped your hips in his large hands, “You'll see this for what it truly is. Sweet, perfect, passionate love making.”

“Never!” You spat at them, “You might be able to force yourselves on me and make me physically enjoy it but you can't force it on my mind. If you do this, I will never forgive you.”

You knew that it was inevitable, nothing could make them stop and nothing you did would help you escape from this disgusting act. But you would never give them the satisfaction of breaking you and making you submit to this warped fantasy they had of you loving them.

Hizashi smiled into the skin of your neck, “We'll see about that.”

“Yes, we'll see how well your resolve holds up when we're making your mind go blank in pleasure and ecstasy.” Shouta says and begins to use his inhuman strength to rip the robe your wearing apart. Soon, your left standing before them in nothing but your underwear.

You can't bring yourself to look at either of them as you keep your eyes shut tight and stand as still as possible. Even so, no matter how hard you try to imagine yourself being anywhere else, you can still feel their eyes roving over you. You can still feel the way they're pressed up to your front and back, the way they glide their fingers and tongues over bits of your flesh. It makes you sick!

“Your so beautiful! After all this time, your finally back with us.” Hizashi exclaims, his hand reaching to fondle one of your breasts and roll your nipple into a hardened peak. You actually have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from moaning.

“Perhaps we should take this over to the bed, hmm?” Shouta suggests. “After all, we may have done this in the past, but this new body of hers is still pure and untouched. She's a virgin again and I want to make this first time even better than the last.”

Something in you broke upon hearing this and an onslaught of tears suddenly spilled down your cheeks. In all the shock and confusion, the overflow of old memories and knowledge, you had forgotten this. You had never so much as had a long lasting relationship, let alone had sex with someone. And now, here you were, about to lose your innocence to the two men you hated most in the entire world… again.

You jerked away when you felt calloused fingertips attempting to wipe away your tears and gentle words spoken against your lips. “Please, do not cry Darling, we promise that there is nothing to fear. We know your scared of the pain that women experience during this first time, but we will make sure you never feel it. We will see to it that you never want for pleasure in our bed (Y/N). We swear it.”

You didn't bother trying to argue, it would have been a pointless endeavor. “Just hurry up and get this done and over with already.” The words were bitter on your tongue. The God of Life took that as his cue and swung you up, all to eagerly, into his strong arms and carried you over to the large bed to lay you down.

You heard moaning and the sound of rustling fabric, indicating that the two men were stripping. You remembered that they used to have a thing for making you watch them, they thought that seeing them touch, lick and fuck each other was a turn on for you. If your dreams were any indication, that hasn't changed. So you fall back into your old habit of closing your eyes and thinking of anything and everything under the sun that would help you tune them out.

All to soon however, the illusion was broken when you felt the bed shift and dip under their respective weights and one of them settles themselves on top of you.

You note without even opening your eyes, that it was Hizashi. His body was still just as hard and solid as Shouta’s, but leaner, with less definition to his muscles and fewer scars. Shouta, you remembered, was littered with them. Big and small, faded and prominent, they covered his entire body, crisscrossing over every well defined muscle he had. It sickens you that the old memories were still fresh enough in your mind for you to notice these things.

Your eyes flew open when you simultaneously felt their mouths on you, a shock-wave of pleasure chorusing through you at the suddenness of it. Shouta had taken to kissing you, nipping and sucking on your tightly sealed lips in a determined effort to get you to respond. Meanwhile, Hizashi slid lower down your body to work his own mouth over you breasts. He alternated between them, squeezing and pinching one in his hand while he sucked on the other, occasionally grazing your sensitive nipples with his teeth before licking the sting away.

The stimulation caused you to let out an involuntary gasp that had both of your tormentors drooling. The blond on top of you found the noise particularly gratifying, “It's been too long since I heard that sound.” His lazy, lust filled eyes leered at you with such hunger that it had you shaking. “Let's see what else we can do to make you sing. Do you have any ideas Shouta?”

The God of Death seemed to ponder that for a moment. A grin that showed far too many teeth spread across his face as his mind raced with thoughts of all the things that simple question brought to mind. “I do have something in mind. Though it will require the use of that little gift we made for her.” His eyes locked with yours and something in those dark orbs had your stomach clenching. “I'll return in a moment. Try not to miss me too much while I'm away.” He ran his thumb along your bottom lip and jerked back when you attempted to snap your teeth on the offending digit. “My feisty little kitten has some bite to her I see.”

“Don't worry, love. I’ll make sure she's occupied.” Hizashi replied to Shouta’s retreating back before diving back down to claim your lips that his lover had abandoned, the force of it causing you to shriek as his tongue easily slipped past your now parted lips.

You didn't respond to it, not even to bite like you had before. Another memory flashed in your mind, this one reminding you that the blond God liked a bit of pain with his foreplay. You decided that it was a satisfaction not worth giving into.

You were baffled when he suddenly pulled back, elated to not have his tongue shoved down your throat anymore, but still baffled. He was looking down at you like you were his salvation, a dreamy smile on his face. You would have had butterflies in your tummy if anyone else was looking at you like this, but coming from one of them, it just made you feel worse.

He reached up to cup your cheek in the palm of his hand despite your clear disdain, “I know you're in shock right now (Y/N), but in time you will see that all we want for you is the best. You will come to love us just as much as we love you, and with that love will come a peace and happiness that you could have only ever dreamed of finding with some unworthy mortal.” He peppered your face, your neck, your chest, any where his lips could reach with kisses. “Your days will be spent doing whatever your sweet little heart desires, and your nights will be spent basking in rapturous ecstasy.”

“You don't really believe that, do you? Don't make me laugh.” You clucked mockingly, “Whatever it is you end up doing to me tonight is just another motive to remind me how much I hate you both. It doesn't matter how many orgasms you force me to have, rape doesn't equal love! And that's all this will ever be to me.” You could clearly see how each word was starting to get under his skin.

To say Hizashi was miffed by your declaration would have been an understatement. He just couldn't understand why you were being like this. They were offering you a dream come true; unwavering love and loyalty, pleasure beyond your wildest imagination, wealth, power, and every material comfort known to man. And all they wanted in return was for you to love them as well, to worship them the way they worshiped you, to never leave them and long solely for their company and theirs alone. Was that really so much to ask for?

But he said none of this, still convinced that this first night back would be enough to change your mind. Surely a night with not one, but two lovers who had a single minded focus on bringing you the utmost in carnal gratification would be enough to sway even the most stubborn of minds. Yes! Not even you could withstand what they had planned for you!

He smiled and brought his lips to the spot just below your ear and gave it a hard suck that went straight to your cunt. “Just remember Sweetling,” He whispered hotly into your ear, “your the one that asked for this. We're going to have you begging for our cocks by the end of this and I for one certainly hope you got enough rest earlier, because it is going to be hours before you get anymore.”

No sooner had Hizashi finished speaking those words did Shouta come back into the room, still clad in only his loose fitting trousers and sporting a raging hard-on that matched the blonds currently pressed against your inner thigh. “I see the two of you kept yourselves busy while I was gone.”

“You found it?”

“Yes. This should work quite nicely for what I have in mind.” He replied smugly.

A movement from Shouta’s hand directed your attention to the object he held out for you to see. It was a choker. Simple in its design but no less pretty, made of soft and pliable brown leather with a small pink living lotus flower as it's only decoration, it looked thick enough that you guessed you wouldn't be able to break it off with your bare hands, and something else… It was faint, but upon closer inspection you saw markings etched into the leather, fine gold lines that looked more like chicken scratch then penmanship.

 “Can you sit her up for me Zashi? I know you are just as eager as me to get started.” He asked his other half who quickly removed himself from on top of you to hoist you up into a sitting position.

“What is that thing? Get it away from me!” Since your hands were still bound behind your back, all you could do was kick out your legs. But even that was difficult since you were still half leaning back on Hizashi.

“You'll see soon enough Kitten. Have some patients.” Shouta said as he got the choker -though to you it was more like a collar- around your neck, there was a sharp click! sound as the ends snapped together.

You tried to remain calm but inside you were a mess. What was with this thing? Were they going to use it to hurt you? What was it going to do?

“Shall we test it out my love? See how our craftsmanship fairs?”

“Do it Shou. I’m done waiting.” You heard the excitement in their voices and nothing they had done so far had terrified you more than this very moment as you waited. The grin he wore made The God of Death looked like the cat that got the cream.

“Kitten,” He said slowly, “I want you to relax… bite your bottom lip... and squeeze those pretty little thighs together for me.”

You were about to tell him where he could go shove it when, to your absolute horror and against your will, the collar pulsed with a strange heat, your body going slack and easing back against the hard chest behind you! You felt yourself bite down on your own lip and felt your thighs press together. The small friction to your still mildly aroused center brought on by this action had you letting out a small moan and you couldn't strain your muscles enough to even try and resist.

“Well, I would have to say our little present is a success. Now we can really enjoy ourselves.” Shouta wore a shit-eating grin and you assumed that Hizashi was no doubt sporting one as well.

It seemed that this development was the breaking point for what little restraint they had. Shouta’s hands shot out and gripped your upper arms to drag you to your knees. He took hold of your chin and lifted your face, his lust filled eyes darting back and forth between you and Hizashi who began laying kisses on the back of your neck.

You had just opened your mouth when you felt Hizashi’s hand clamp down on it, blocking any and all protests you may have had. Your forced silence didn't stop you from glaring at the deity in front of you with all the hate you could muster.

Hizashi could not stop the frustration from leaking out of his voice even if he tried. “Now Sweetling, I think that we have been more than tolerant of your attitude since you have been home, but we are done playing this game with you, here is what you are going to do.” You noted how he spoke to you as if you were an unruly child, as if you were throwing a simple tantrum.

“You will not fight us anymore tonight, you will allow us to please you however we see fit without complaint, and you will not speak nor make another sound tonight unless it is to voice your pleasure.” You felt that same pulsating heat from your torture device, and you actually felt all the fight leave your body and voice, your external fight was done for now, your collar would make sure of that unfortunately. 

The bastard actually had the nerve to smile into the crook of your neck as he felt your posture relax once again before continuing with his little lecture, “We have waited far too long for this moment and I refuse to let your unwillingness at accepting the truth ruin an otherwise perfect reunion between us. Now,” he set his satisfied gaze on his other beloved, “do you have anything to add, Shou?”

“Only one.” He quips and you wait to hear what humiliating and degrading thing he is going to force you to abide by. “I want to hear her voice her protest.”

 Both yours and Hizashi’s eyes shot up into your hairlines at hearing this, it certainly made no sense with all things considered. “Whatever for Shouta?”

“Because, I want to hear her cries of anger of turn to cries of passion. I want to hear her protests turn into pleas for more, to watch her face morph from one of disgust to that of a wanton bitch in heat while we fuck her. I want to make her beg for us to make love to her, to beg for our forgiveness after all she has put us through.” He paused mid rant, hair floating around his face, to lock his glowing red eyes with yours once more. “Do you hear me (Y/N), go ahead and voice your protests. It will all be worth it when you eventually break and accept it. When you finally, blessedly realize what we have known for over five thousand years.”

Slowly, the hand covering your mother moved away, and while you still couldn't make your body move to fight back, you did feel your voice return to you. “And what is that exactly?”

“That you are ours, now and always. You were ours the moment we first laid eyes on you, you were ours even when you breathed your last breath. And still, even now when you refuse to face the facts, you are still ours.” He was calmer now, all the frustration seemingly drained from him. “Ours to love, to protect, to mark, to claim forever. You will never escape us again my love, I can promise you that.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves before speaking. “If that's the case, than go on, do your worst. Let's see how smug you both are when you realize that I still feel this way come morning.” And while you spoke the words with confidence, you couldn't stop feeling like you just signed a deal with two devils.

Well, here is another chapter! Sorry it took so long to get out, I’ve honestly never written any kind of non-con like this before and was a little uncertain if what I was writing was making sense, even with all the editing I did. So my work may not seem as cohesive as the previous chapters. I apologize for that if anyone notices,

There will probably only be one or two more chapters to this story, so hopefully it wont take me to long to get them out.

As always, thank you again to @jadepillar18 for the inspiration on this story and I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

[mojofun]

Always (Sirius Black x OC)

Warnings: drinking, pining, angst with fluff ending (plus, I used a quote somewhere in this story that true fans won’t miss [though it’s not the right character] hehe)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

His tongue had grown numb to the taste of alcohol, and his vision was blurred.

Still, the black-haired man chugged back another gulp of the concoction -firewhiskey, was it?- in the glass bottle, hoping against hope that it would dull the unbearable ache in his chest- or make him numb enough that he would not feel it anymore; either was fine.

Too bad neither of the two possibilities was happening.

Stumbling to his feet, the wizard reached his hand out to hold onto the wall as he groped his way out of the room, heading toward the staircase; luckily for him, he knew the place by heart, though he was anything but happy about that.

Each and every square metre of space in the blasted house was laden with memories, the majority of which was even darker than the pitch black that surrounded him.

At least he was desensitised enough not to care about his past, but there was a new ghost linger inside those walls…

The ghost of her

What am I supposed to do without you?

Is it too late to pick the pieces up?

Too soon to let them go?

It did not matter what he was supposed to do.

The only thing he could bring himself to do at the moment was drink.

The booze was weakening his rationality. Not that there’d ever been much to begin with, but that weak thread was the only thing that kept at bay the thoughts… Of her.

Do you feel damaged just like I do?

Feeling.

Of all the tortures he’d ever faced, that was the worst.

The more he tried to stop it, the more he tried to suffocate it with each drink, the more they overcame him.

And they were all about her.

Somehow, unawarely, he ended up in the living room whose walls were decorated with his os so noble family’s genealogy

As if they had a mind of their own, his feet brought him in front of the charred hole in the wall that had once been his portrait, many years ago.

Another life, the same pain.

Yet, it was not what his eyes were focused on.

A few inches to the right, entwined with his branch by some worn branches, was another singed patch of wallpaper that had once been someone’s face, and not just anyone’s.

Your face, it makes my body ache

It won't leave me alone

Kiyrah.

Tracing his fingers lightly over the singed blotch, he fought an internal battle against himself as he tried to imagine where her lips, her eyes had once been.

No matter how destroyed the wall was, his mind could piece together an image of the woman in mere seconds, down to the most ephemeral details, because he missed her so much.

He could see her soft brown hair framing her face, the deep brown irises that always held so much emotion, the full, pink lips that had smiled too few times, far less than she deserved.

Lips that he’d kissed…

Eyes that he’d seen full of tears. Because of him.

And this feels like drowning

He was trying to drown in alcohol. That was supposed to help him not drown in sorrow, but it wasn’t working.

He could not see the difference anymore.

Trouble sleeping

Restless dreaming

More like nightmares.

You’re in my head

Always, always

I just got scared

Away, away

<<S- Si- Sirius… P- Please…>>

That memory was beginning to resurface again, and it made him grit his teeth.

Again, his mind put it on replay just for him- note the sarcasm.

I’d rather choke on my bad decisions

Than just carry them to my grave

<<Shut up, you devil! Get out of here!>>

You’re in my head

Always, always, always

Cracks won't fix and the scars won't fade away

He had no idea how she’d managed to hide her scars so well.

Not only the physical ones, though the bite marks on her forearm that she’d inflicted on herself to avoid the black mark were all but discreet. No, he was more surprised by how long she’d managed to fool everyone around her, hiding the chinks in her armour behind a mask that he thought had been her real self.

How bloody wrong he’d been…

Guess I should get used to this

The left side of my bed's an empty space

<<Kiyrah…>>

Everything in the house reminded him of her.

As if the dark ghosts of his past haunting him were not enough, now he had to live with the knowledge that he’d driven away what had probably been the best thing to ever happen to him.

To be honest though, it was the only thing he regretted when it came to his dealings with his family.

I remember we were strangers

So tell me what's the difference

Between then and now

They’d known each other for all their lives, and yet he knew nothing about her.

That was not his fault though: she’d twisted his memories.

She’d erased all the wonderful moments they’d shared, leaving behind false images of the harridan she pretended to be.

That harridan was too similar to his mother, to his cousin and the majority of his deranged lineage for him to tolerate it. So, when he first learned that she’d twisted his mind, he snapped.

He shouted horrible things at her, most of which he did not even mean.

He was blinded by rage. After all, if a hateful shrew like her tampered with his memories it meant she was up to no good, right?

That had seemed the only plausible explanation.

Too bad it was the wrong one

And why does this feel like drowning?

Drowning in loneliness.

Drowning in pain.

Drowning in guilt.

Guilt because now he knew that she’d only been trying to protect him from her own family, and from his, too.

She’d driven him away because her parents wanted to hurt him, and all his friends; she had to make him stay away

Trouble sleeping

Guilt because he had finally found out just how many sacrifices she’d made for him.

The image of her being tortured by his parents -she’d used potions to take on his looks- tortured him every sleeping and waking moment.

Restless dreaming

Guilt because he never even gave her a chance.

He never gave them a chance.

A chance to explain, to come clean… A chance to go back to being the best thing that ever happened to him.

You're in my head

Always, always

I just got scared

Away, away

He’d been too scared, and his fear had resulted in him lashing out in anger before he even heard her side of the story.

Now, he feared it was too late

I'd rather choke on my bad decisions

Than just carry them to my grave

You're in my head

Always, always, always

Always, always

Now he either always saw the real Kiyrah in his mind, the incredible things she’d done for him and all the wonderful moments they’d shared, how much he loved her, or he was brutally reminded of how badly he’d treated her when the issue of her memory spells came out.

It filled him with regret, longing and remorse, so much remorse…

You're in my head

Always, always

I just got scared

Away, away

I know there's nothing left to cling to

But I'm still calling out your name

It felt like years, but it had only been days.

Every time he went inside a room, he found himself imagining her in there with him, sitting beside him at the kitchen table or lying in his bed.

Sometimes he even reached for her; that was when she disappeared.

You're in my head

Always, always, always

He began to feel dizzy, so he took some steps back and slumped on the couch. The bottle fell from his hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud which he barely heard.

The room was spinning…

Maybe he would finally find some peace.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

His eyelids felt incredibly heavy, but he managed to force them open; though the room around him was dimly illuminated, it was too much for his sore eyes to take in.

He fought against the reflex that told him to close them again.

There was something strange in the air, something he couldn’t put his fingers on at the moment, but he definitely felt it.

When he turned his head slightly, his jaw slackened.

There she was again, the vision that had tormented him ever since his wife -could he still call her that?- had walked out the door in tears. This time, though, was not like the rest…

Again, he couldn’t quite put his fingers on it. She somehow appeared… Real.

Well, more than usual

<<Ki- Kiyrah…>>

The wraith smiled sweetly at him

<<Hi, Sirius>>

Her voice brought him up short.

None of the apparitions had ever spoken to him.

This one seemed so different…

<<Aren’t you going to shout at me? Or at least ask me what I’m doing here?>>

It was a while before he could reply. His grey irises were too busy roving over her, taking in her pale, supple form, the chocolate locks that fell over her shoulders and the slight curve of her lips. Her eyes, though, were a different story.

They were red and filled with pain.

They looked haunted.

Guilt flared in him again

<<I… I’m sorry for treating you like that…>>

The woman sighed

<<I had a hunch it would happen>>

<<I’m so- >>

<<I don’t blame you>>

That brought him up short

<<What… What the hell are you talking about?>>

<<I filled your mind with negativity, Sirius, no matter how valid my motives were; you had every right to doubt me>>

It was as far from what he expected as it could get.

If the woman sitting by his bed was a product of his subconscious, shouldn’t she be giving him a mouthful about what a horrible mane was? That’s what he’d spent those few days alone doing, so where did this meek acceptance come from?

<<You’re telling me that you think it’s your fault that I verbally abused you without even letting you explain what happened?>>

<<Yes>>

Both of them flinched when he suddenly burst into hysterics, throwing his head back on the pillow

<<I’ve done it; I finally lost my mind>>

<<You’ve never been all there in the first place, darling>>

<<Don’t call me darling>> He replied, suddenly morose again <<I don’t deserve it>>

Kiyrah groaned, moving to sit on the mattress

<<For crying out loud, Sirius, what else could I expect?

You have never been known to be a patient man.

If your deranged cousin walked through the door at this moment, would you attack her or calmly greet her and offer her a cup of tea, asking her about her day?>>

Despite himself, he snorted at her words: it was a grotesquely funny thought, and it would never happen

<<I made you think I was like them. Why would you have reacted differently?>>

Her reasoning was flawless, no matter how much he wanted to hate himself.

However, his mind was preoccupied with something else: namely, the way the mattress had sunk when she took her place on it by his side.

A vision couldn’t possibly do that.

Breath hitched in his throat as he turned to look at her again

<<You’re real, aren’t you? This isn’t a dream?>>

She giggled, reaching out to caress his cheek

<<No, it’s not>>

<<Why… Why are you here again?>>

Hurt flashed in her eyes, so he rushed to correct himself

<<Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just… I didn’t expect to ever see you again>>

<<I dropped by to check on you; you were passed out on the couch, so I brought you here.

If you want to, I can le->>

<<No!>> His hand darted to grab hers, trying to hold her in place; if she wished to go he wouldn’t stop her, but he needed to try, at least <<Stay. Please>>

Kiyrah smiled

<<Of course, darling>>

Sirius sat up and hugged her, resting his head in the crook of her neck

<<I can’t believe you came back, Kiyrah>>

<<I love you, you fool>> She cooed, running her fingers through his hair <<I’ll always come back>>

The man in her arms pulled away enough to look her in the face without actually letting her go. He was gaping

<<Even after the way I treated you?>>

<<I already told you I don’t blame you>>

<<But I made you leave…>>

<<I feel guilty, Sirius. You know why I did it, but still… It wasn’t right>>

<<Kay, I owe you my life; you have nothing to be remorseful for>>

The way she beamed when he said that brought a smile on his face too

<<I love you, darling>>

<<I love you too>>

<<After all this time?>>

<<Always>>

Always, always, always

@angelinathebook

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 14

Happy Valentine's Day! I have been pushing myself to get this chapter out on the day of love! As always your playlist song:

Like A Prayer

❤TragedyBunny❤

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

Thunk. The dagger hits the target, perfectly dead center. I’m hanging upside down from a ceiling rafter, throwing at targets scattered around the room, concentrating despite the dizziness starting to make my head spin. Behind me, I hear the whine of the opening door. None of the servants would dare interrupt me, not even Gwen. “Kitten, are you still not talking to me?”

I listen to his steps as he draws closer to me. I glance to my right and let a dagger fly in his direction. It buries itself in the wall next to him, he doesn’t flinch. “I’ll take that as yes.” We both know that I wasn’t actually aiming at him. He sighs, now the negotiating starts. “How about we go to the theatre tonight and then to that little cafe you like so much?” 

I throw a blade at another target and ignore him. I want to see what concessions he’s willing to make. “I’ll buy you something shiny.” Hmm, there are a few pieces at the jeweler’s that I’ve had my eye on.

I throw again, another perfect hit. “Fine, do whatever you want to do with the blasted garden.” He almost sounds pained saying it.  I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips, I hadn’t expected to get exactly what I wanted. That’s what the whole argument had been about, he’d been staunchly against the expense. 

“All of the above.” I sit up onto the beam and drop down next to him. I almost let out a gasp when I get a good look at him, he looks so very tired and worn. He’d left before the sun was even up this morning. I’d barely fallen asleep after chasing a target most of the night when I’d felt him stir beside me. There’s been growing unrest in the south, sparking bands of rebels to spring up and need to be put down. I feel a bit guilty for all the theatrics just now. I lean up and brush my lips against his while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Darling, we don’t have to go out.” 

I watch his eyes stray to the now faded handprint on my wrist. The past couple of months since that terrible night he’s been overly indulgent, giving into nearly every request or whim of mine. It’s bittersweet, I no longer believe what we have means nothing to him, but he still will not tell me otherwise. Is it pride, fear, or am I imagining things? He leans his cheek on the top of my head. “No, it’s fine.” 

The way I’m pressed against his chest I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, strong and reassuring. “I'll leave it up to you.” I feel his arms tighten around me. I’m tempted to say more, but it’d make him cross if I fussed over him. 

When we first started going to the theatre we were the subject of extreme interest. Those same whispers that followed us at the Solstice revels consumed the theatre crowd. Winter was fading away and we were falling back into a routine after what happened, he found me idly sketching and stated he was bored and we should go out. I told him he never wanted to go out, which earned an annoyed huff. I’d had to kiss away his irritation before he’d let me agree to his suggestion. It became a bit of a regular occurrence as spring arrived full force, the two of us, ensconced in his private box, bantering and debating in hushed whispers, trying to keep as quiet as possible. As if anyone would actually admonish the Grand General for not keeping quiet at the theatre. 

“You really are spoiling me.” I twirl and show off the latest of his gifts, black lace and tulle, voluminous skirt yet somehow very revealing. 

“I would say it’s worth it.” His gaze roves over me appreciatively before his hands close around my hips and he pulls me close. “You’re stunning.” The way his voice drops low and he whispers those words in my ear, I can almost feel my cheeks going crimson. I hate it when he does that. 

“We will be late if you continue this.”  I hesitate for a moment, we could just stay home. Eventually, I pull myself from his grasp and climb into the waiting carriage. “You may further compliment me when we return.” 

It’s opening night for some unheard of playwright who’s managed to get the backing of a noble family. These productions that buy their way into a theatre are usually vanity pieces for their patrons and almost always end in spectacular disaster. Tonight is no exception, an overwrought affair based on an old myth, with glaringly obvious current parallels. “Really? Comparing me to Mordekaiser. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or flattered.” 

“I would say flattered, but the dialogue is so insipid I’m going to go with insulted.” I make a mock gagging noise. 

“We could just leave. That would cause a bit of a stir, walk out right now.”

“Tempting but whoever bankrolled this would probably think that was a victory. Oh, I know, let’s ask to meet the author. I heard he’s here. That will terrify him.” 

“That is evil. How do I sleep next to you at night?” He puts his arm through my mine, bringing us closer. 

“I always assumed very lightly.” I lean my head on his shoulder, relishing the moment.

He laughs in that subdued manner that’s typical for him, control to him is everything, and then squeezes my hand ever so slightly. I’ve come to know that gesture for what it is, his way of asking for affection, even if it is more proof of that constant need for control. I tilt my head up and brush my lips against his cheek anyway, I’ll not deny him. “I’m glad we came out tonight.” I’m taken aback at the unexpected honesty. I return my head to his shoulder and feel him ever so lightly kiss the top of my head.

“Me too.” Some intuition grips me and I realize there’s something he’s not telling me. I can feel the tension in his body as I lean against him. Between that and the tiredness lingering in his eyes, I’m troubled. 

I don’t really pay attention to the remainder of the theatrical debacle playing out before us, instead, we whisper back and forth and exchange soft kisses when we run out of words. When the whole dreadful thing has finally concluded neither of us is invested in our malicious scheme from earlier. We attempt to slip out of the theatre quickly before any of the high society crowd can attempt to small talk to us. “Madame Katarina, Grand General!” Coming around a corner into an open foyer we almost run down the owner of the cultured, smooth voice. 

“Rowan!” We stop short and I lean in to give them a quick peck on the cheek. “What a wonderful surprise.” I hear Jericho very quietly huff behind me, he knows why I'm so elated at the coincidence.

“Am I missing something?” They clearly sense the opposing forces at work here.

I met Rowan at a gallery show for Alrich about a month ago, we ended up deep in conversation and kept in touch after. It was only after our first meeting that I realized they were, in fact, the newly elected Head of the Mage’s Council. Jericho referred to it as quite a fortuitous connection, always politics with him.  “Since you asked, there’s a small favor I need to beg of you.” Gardens don’t really grow in normal Noxian soil, you either import it or have it enchanted or better yet, both. “Could you recommend the best green mage of your acquaintance?” I give deep emphasis to best, the cost isn’t a concern. 

“Planning to play in your garden a bit?” They give me a wry smile, they’ve heard my ambitions on this subject before. “I’ll see to it as soon as possible my dear. I hope you'll forgive my haste but I'm late to an engagement." He inclines his head politely to Jericho. "Grand General,  always an honor, Sir. And do stop by sometime, the both of you, I owe you a tour.”

“We’ll look forward to it.” We kiss cheeks again, Jericho returns their nod, and they fade into the now pressing crowd. 

Pushing through to the exit we finally find ourselves out in the mild spring night. I take his arm as we walk the short distance from the theatre to the cafe. “What’s troubling you, and don’t tell me nothing, I know better.”

“You are spending too much time with me. I had planned on having a discussion with you shortly. But first, other pressing matters. You are aware there is an intelligence briefing tomorrow, correct?” 

“Yes.” This again, I keep my tone purposefully terse. 

“And you know what time it is set to begin at?” I nod silently. “Then don’t be late again. Veera already thinks your position should be rescinded, stop giving her excuses. And please actually try to be in uniform.”

“She’s never going to like my being there anyway.” This is really the last thing I want to talk about. 

“I’d imagine that has something to do with you breaking her nose up north.” His tone is flat. 

I pull away from him to gesture wildly. “You know what she said! How was I supposed to know she was Intelligence.” 

“You could’ve not let her bait you like that. However, she’s your Superior and you will have to deal with her for now.”

“Until I’m promoted. That’s what you’re planning on, isn’t it?” Thinking of fucking Veera and High Command has me silently seething. I didn’t even want this position in Intelligence, it was regretfully forced on me as soon as I became Guild Commander. “Remember when she had the nerve to ask if I could even read High Noxian like I’m some sort of uneducated child. The Grand Whore apparently can't understand our official language."

He surprisingly chuckles quietly. “You spent a whole meeting only speaking to her in Old Noxian. It was quite impressive actually, I didn’t even know you spoke it.” Now he finds it amusing, he was irritated at the time. 

“I suppose it’s typical. People usually think killing is all I’m good for.” With that thought, melancholy starts to bleed into my rage. I trudge on in silence but he catches up and takes my arm again. He doesn’t speak though, giving me a moment until we reach our destination on the edge of an open plaza. There are a few cafes scattered amongst the now darkened shops that remain open for the crowds coming from the theatres, opera house, and galleries, but there’s one in particular I favor. 

We’d started coming here shortly after we began having theatre nights. I’d frequented it before on my own, but one night we’d both needed sobering up and weren’t ready to go home. There had been a painfully boring diplomatic dinner that had impelled us both to decimate our host’s wine cellar. Well, impelled me anyway, I may have drug him along with it. It makes me smile a little to think of myself being a bad influence on the Grand General. We’d scared the owner Tavi, a Shuriman immigrant, half to death. He had no idea what to do with Jericho seated at one of his outdoor tables, sipping coffee with his mistress. He has since thankfully calmed down a bit when we show up. 

We find our usual table, tucked into a darker corner of the veranda, affording us at least some privacy, as Jericho prefers. Sahar, one of Tavi’s daughters brings out coffee with a polite greeting before we even ask. They always have the best Shuriman brew here. You can tell by the number of Tavi’s fellow immigrants clustered inside, looking for a taste of home. Moments later Sahar reappears with a smile and one of Tavi’s famous flaky crusted pastries. “I saved one just for you, Madame, I know you are fond of them.” She’s a flatterer, but that’s what I pay for. 

“Many thanks, Sahar. ” The scent of strawberries and roasted nuts wafts up to me and as soon as she’s out of sight I ravenously stuff a large forkful in my mouth. 

Jericho smirks at me from across the table. “If only I knew before that all it took to mollify you was a decent pastry.” 

I feign being indignant “It’s the strawberries, they’re my favorite, and someone wouldn’t let me have them all winter.” 

“No, he said stop spending a fortune on them when they have to be imported.” He pretends to be stern with me. 

I play the brat and pout. “You were mean about it and I didn’t get any.”

“My poor Kitten, that must have been torture. Although I know full well you had Cress buying them and hiding the cost. How many bottles of wine did it cost me for you to bribe him?” He sits back looking triumphant, he’s won our little back and forth.”

“No fair, you always know everything.” I blow him a kiss and finish enjoying my pastry. With the last bite dispatched I turn my attention back to what’s bothering him. The silence that’s stretched between us seems to be alive with whatever it is, it’s heavy and oppressive, erasing the pleasantness of a few moments ago.  “So.”

“I suppose I owe you that discussion about what’s been on my mind.” I nod, hoping to just get it over with. My every sense is telling me to dread his words. “You know there’s been unrest in the south. Thus far the forces sent have failed to stamp it out entirely.” He pauses and once again tension fills the space between us. “I intend to go settle it myself.”

My heart freezes, I forget to breathe. He’s going to war. Part of me cries out to beg him not to, but that’s not the Noxian way and he’d despise it. Instead, I steady myself and bury that impulse. “Do you want me to go with?” That would be acceptable, I could make myself of use, like in the North.

He shakes his head. Of course, he won’t want it construed that he needs to take his little pet everywhere with him. “No, but the situation has given me much to consider and there is something I need to ask of you.” Another moment of terrible silence. I stare down at the cup in my hands that I hadn’t realized I was clutching tightly. Will he just get this over with? “It occurs to me I could use someone to watch over my interests while I’m away. Not with official power, of course, but to keep my allegiances strong and prevent my enemies from growing too bold.”

“And?” I urge him on, gesturing impatiently. 

“I would want you to have the respect due to you while acting on my behalf. And I’d like to make it clear in that case that anyone acting against you is acting against me as well.” I take a sip of coffee, completely lost. “All this is to say, I think we should get married.” 

A raspy cough escapes me as I choke on my coffee. “What!?”

“You and I, we should get married.” He says a bit more slowly as if it somehow makes it any less absurd. 

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised you’re even bothering to ask and not just ordering.” The shock leaves me defensive and lashing out. Get married, be his wife, this is lunacy.

Now he’s the one who turns his eyes away and contemplates his cup. “Fair enough. Although I would argue things have changed over time.” He reaches out to take my hand, thumb running along my knuckles. His voice drops into that soft tone that always persuades me to his point. “You would agree, right?”

Damn him for being charming. “I suppose they have a bit.” I give his hand a soft squeeze. 

“You have to admit it is a solid notion. I know Darius can be depended upon and Argos is very capable but has not been in his position long.  And soon enough we’ll have a new Commander of the Capitol Guard.” 

“I didn’t realize she was finally retiring.” I interrupt. 

“Not quite.” The insinuation is unmistakable. “I’ll need you to see to it personally. Back to the point, I’ll get what I need while I’m gone and if I should not return, you’ll be a very wealthy widow.” 

I roll my eyes at that last bit. “Don’t be ridiculous, something’s far more likely to befall me than you.”

He looks up brows furrowed. “Don’t say that.”

“Can I think about this whole thing?” I’m at a loss. All my work to accept the way things are between us, and he wants to complicate it all over again. 

“If you insist, my Warbands have been summoned though, and I plan to leave within the week.” Why am I the last to know about this whole thing? “Keep in mind, we can always get divorced if you find it disagreeable. In fact, since you have no assets of your own, I’m technically the only one at risk.”

It’s such a clerical way of looking at it, just what I’d expect from him. I almost wish it hurt, but I’m too used to how he is. So instead I simply rise and stretch. “I’m ready to go home.” I start walking away before he’s even out of his seat. 

“Right.” He leaves some coin on the table and hurries to catch up with me. I feel the weight of his coat drop around my shoulders and inhale the scent of him that clings to it, leather and parchment and that cologne he pretends he doesn’t wear. “There’s a chill in the air.” There’s not but it’s an unusually soft gesture so I let his little lie slide.

“Still trying to persuade me?” I slow my pace a bit so that we fall into step with each other. 

“Perhaps.” He takes my hand. “Is it working?” I only roll my eyes at him again, this time with a smile though. 

Thankfully he lets the subject drop the rest of the way home. Once Gwen has helped me out of my dress, I slip on my robe and take a precious few moments to think while running a brush through my hair. How can I even begin to contemplate marrying him? It’s absolutely absurd, and he’s arranged it all with the same cool detachment of ordering his soldiers into formation. And yet he asked, admitting when he did that things are not as they once were between us. With that admission comes the stinging awareness that for whatever his reason, he’d rather it remain unacknowledged. As usual, I’m expected to obey his wishes and follow along with his silence. But isn’t that what I’ve accepted time and again?

Nothing is clarified by the time I slip next door to find him hunched over his desk, pen in hand. “Are you seriously working right now?”

He puts a hand up. “I’ll only be a moment.” 

I stalk over and drop myself into his lap, he doesn’t get to propose to me and then spend the rest of the night obsessing over the Empire. “No.” He tries to write around me. “I want your attention.” 

I lean in and kiss his jaw just where it meets his neck, he shudders. My lips travel upward, I nip and pull his earlobe between my teeth, sucking for a moment. He gasps, pen clattering down onto the desk. “You are insistent on making a nuisance of yourself, aren’t you?” He wraps his hands around my hips.

“If that’s what it takes to get what I want.” I can feel that tension in him again and I’m reminded of the reason for his proposal. There must be some concern about this rebellion within High Command if he’s going to take on the task himself. He still hasn’t rooted out the conspiracy he knows is working in the shadows, no doubt that weighs on him as well. I kiss his neck and let my teeth graze it, he digs his fingers into my hips and thrusts lightly against me. I feel the heat of desire build inside me. “You’re so tense though, let me take care of you.”

I push his hands away and slide down to the floor between his legs. I trace my fingers along the growing bulge in his pants, causing more small noises from him, before opening them. He sighs when I grasp him and work my hand up and down his length. I feel his fingers dig into my shoulders when I run my tongue over his head and take him into my mouth. His hand grips my hair, pushing me forward, urging me to take all of him. Tongue pressed against him, lips tight, I move up and down, listening to his soft moans. When he can no longer stand my deliberately slow pace, he holds me still and drives into me, relentlessly using me. 

I hear his rapid breathing and know he’s taken himself close to the edge. I break away, clambering back into his lap, straddling his hips. I let my robe fall to the floor and lean down for a rough kiss, my hand once again wrapped around his cock. “Don’t tease me.” He growls. 

“Never.” Wet and aching for him, I impale myself on him and moan as his hips buck up to meet me. Again I start slow, rocking my hips against him, taking him as deep as possible. His hands hold me loosely, a sign he's given over control to me.  “You feel so good inside me.” I quicken, moving with urgency, breath coming rapidly, feeling the bliss of being filled with him. I feel myself tighten around him,  pleasure exploding inside me, crying out as I’m spent. I’m pliant as a moment later he pulls me down roughly, taking back that control, and finishing with a few deep thrusts. 

I lean my head onto his shoulder, suddenly exhausted, and feel his arms wrap around me. He means so much to me, will I lose him if I don’t do what he asks? Will he find someone else to play the part? I’m out of choices again it would seem. “You’re right, it’s a good idea.”

I leave it at that and wait for him to respond. “Look me in the eyes and tell me yes, if that’s your answer, Kat.” 

I oblige and sit up, staring into those unyielding dark pools. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” I brush my lips lightly against his to seal my promise. 

[burlybanner]

Merge (ScienceBrosWeek2019)

Summary: Some secrets are better left unsaid - and some are better cracked wide open Disclaimer: This is different from my usual style and I’m not sure where this story is going. So I’m not sure when I’ll continue. But keep me honest; it’ll happen eventually.

Disclaimer deux: I struggled with getting chapter the way I wanted, and the theme fought me tooth and nail. But it is what it is, and I don’t want to get too far behind. So - read at your own risk!

Unbeta’d.

Reference: Dust(1), Drip(2), Bitter(3)

**

Bruce woke, remembering precisely why he didn’t like drinking with Tony. He vowed this time (why was there always a “this time”) to leave the whisky on its designated shelf where it belonged. He squinted and rubbed his thumb and forefinger beneath his eyes, still feeling the heaviness of his mind and limbs with Tony’s body draped around him.

“You awake?”

Bruce grunted. “Yeah. I guess.”

“What do you want?”

“Aspirin, coffee, and donuts.” Not that he expected the donuts. But still. He’d seen them yesterday and couldn’t get them out of his mind. 

“Side table. Check the drawers.” Tony yawned and rolled off of Bruce like a cat. Bruce glanced over, watching Tony tap his wrist twice, then his jaw. “Hey. Who’s on the donut run today?” Pause.  “Really?” Another pause. Two gestures on his wrist. “Can you grab a dozen sorted for me and bring ‘em down?” Pause. “But if you don’t w--” Long, long pause. “Okay, okay. See you.”

Jaw tap.

Bruce stared at him, hand hovering between the table and the bed. “What was that?”

Tony smirked, tapped his wrist and middle knuckle. “SIberNet. Spelled SI, for Stark Industries. The evolution of telecom patented by yours truly.”

He continued staring. “You fucking scare me.”

“I’ve always scared you. But then, we have a mutual scare pact.”

Bruce pursed his lips and conceded Tony’s point. He found Ibuprofen and bottled water in the side table, then palmed two tablets and scowled at Tony before quaffing half the water. “I bet they’re all connected to SINet, or whatever you’re calling it.”

“SIberNet. Everyone’s connected, but not everyone has access to all functions. Just the higher ups.”

Bruce finished his water and shook his head. “But of course you have access to everything.”

“More or less.”

“Emphasis on the more?”

Tony smiled.

Bruce sighed heavily and felt a stronger ache in his bones. “I’m gonna go take a piss,” he muttered. His head hurt, partly from the hangover. “Grab some coffee. Maybe take a shower.”

“Make it fast, donuts’ll be here in less than ten.”

To his credit he barely tripped from the bed. Even now, in the light of day (was there sun? How did they survive without the sun) the puzzle seemed unsolvable. Too many pieces were missing and until he felt warm, clean, and headache-free Bruce didn’t expect many answers from Tony, or his own sluggish psyche.

But donuts would definitely help.

Tony gestured to Bruce’s clothes. “Wanna put something on?”

“What for?” Was his body that repulsive, that Tony couldn’t bear the sight of him sober--? “You’ve seen me naked. I’ll grab a towel after I shower.”

Tony’s face softened, revealing too much vulnerability. But Bruce’s hangover was having nothing to do with introspection. Not this early in the day. 

“Birthday suit yourself, Brucie.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and shuffled from the room.

His mind calmed after leaving Tony’s bedroom. It wasn’t horrible sleeping with him but Bruce wanted more, so it heightened his anxiety. Luckily he didn’t need to feel anything in the front room and his mind could blunt its sharp edges. 

Bruce shuffled to Tony’s window and its great view; also luckily, Tony hadn’t bothered shutting the curtain the night before. He felt like Alice in Wonderland - like he was still dreaming. But Bruce’s mind was not savvy enough to conjure waterfalls, slick mossy crags, and winding jungle vines. His mind wasn’t nearly quiet enough to recreate this joy. 

Bruce placed a hand on the glass and briefly shut his eyes. The hum of the cave filled him but so did the urgent need to piss. His physical body forced him to leave Eden behind, to relieve himself. 

While pissing his mind roved over Tony’s opulent bathroom, top of the line of course. He glared at Tony’s walk-in shower with the perfect, pristine jets and high level stonework. He knew he said he’d shower but he needed to ground himself more, and...no. Peace first. The shower simply reminded him of the future and he needed more of now’s peace.

He left the bathroom with the sole intent of making coffee and staring into perfection. Tony would either join him, or wait, it wouldn’t matter. He just...needed this. Right now.

“Tell me when, I’ll show you around.”

Bruce squawked, visibly jumping after hearing a not-Tony voice in the corner. How long had he been there, sitting, not staring at Bruce at all? Quiet, proud, and waiting. Calmly staring into the abyss. Lost in his own mind’s prison.

“Hey, Bruce.”

“Jesus - you motherfucker - you...” Bruce closed his eyes, put a shaky hand to his chest. “You know better than that. You know.”

“Yeah, well. Guess I figured you’d notice.” James Rhodes chuckled, folded his hands over the handle of his cane. Bruce’s eyes drew to the ornate pattern of the platinum handle, a twisty network of vines and fauna drawn down into an obsidian shaft. He thought if Rhodes were a Disney villain, that this would be the cane for him. But he shot the image from his mind. No Disney villain would be as classy.

“Maybe I would’ve, if I weren’t so hungover.” A chill reminded him of how very under-dressed he was, and he finally understood Tony’s vague question, regarding his clothes. 

He hated how nervous he felt.

“It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Rhodey used his cane to push up from his chair, slowly limping his way to join him. Bruce frowned, eyes instinctively shifting to the rhythm of Rhodey’s shuffle. Rhodey’d either just finished his morning exercises or his other leg had been overcompensating, due to the prosthetic. Bruce wondered, absently, when the last time Rhodey had seen an orthopedist. 

“Kinda makes sense Tony has the best view.”

Bruce took a second to drink Rhodey in before sharing the pristine outskirts with him. A dark chuckle died in Bruce’s throat. “It wouldn’t be Tony otherwise.”

“Heh. True.”

His fingers slowly stroked the glass but he didn’t have the strength to stare at Rhodey directly. Instead Bruce watched the other man’s reflection, as Rhodey’s reflection watched him. “I’m sorry,” Bruce said, unable to find anything better to say.

Rhodey nodded. He shifted his stance as his left hand massaged his cane’s handle. “Nothing to be sorry about, really. It happened. We happened. Other things happened to us. It’s life, man.”

“Still.” Softly, tentatively. He reached out and gently placed his hand on Rhodey’s. Bruce felt tendons jump, then relax. The ground they shared was uneven at best but not broken; Bruce felt some relief in that. 

“It wasn’t fair. I...I ignored you. Didn’t know how to talk to you. Twenty years of friendship, and I--”

“Thirty.”

“Pardon?”

Rhodey’s expression turned wistful and he stared at the carpet. “You...always forget to include your fugitive years, Bruce. You’ve known me and Tones for over thirty, not twenty. But I get it. Happens to POWs a lot.”

Bruce’s face fell and he blinked once, twice, rapidly. He felt his mind shift but he forced his expression to remain neutral. “Oh. You’re right. Of course.”

Then Rhodey reached for him, and Bruce couldn’t tell if it were from pity or love but both equally soured his stomach. “You wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

Bruce sat at the place he’d been the night before, feeling painfully naked and cold. 

“Here.” A cup of coffee was pressed into his hands and an apple fritter suddenly appeared within easy reach. 

“Thanks.” Bruce took a sip of the coffee and a large bite of the donut. A small smile curled his lips. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget? Six sugars, a tablespoon of cream, and a bunch of donuts. Every Saturday for years. It was your go-to breakfast.”

“Go-to hangover breakfast.”

Rhodey snorted. “Well. We didn’t do Friday nights halfway.”

“No,” Bruce sighed. He slouched deeper in the chair, letting his toes curl into the carpet. “We didn’t.” The silence lingered but Bruce didn’t feel pressured to fill it. Rhodey grabbed his own cup of coffee and filled their silent space with little posh sips, while they enjoyed watching the cave’s waterfall. 

“Did Tony tell you about the clouds?”

“What? Out there?” Rhodey nodded. “You’re joking.”

“Nah, I’m serious.” Rhodey smiled and drained his coffee cup. “More like condensation, though. The atmosphere builds up and makes its own clouds. Gets so humid, it feels like a misty rain. Pretty incredible.”

Bruce shook his head, enjoying their easy conversation. He didn’t...he honestly didn’t believe they could return to this. They’d barely spoken for five years. Really ten, since when he got back he’d been too mentally unstable and...well. 

Things.

“I tried.”

Bruce finished his fritter and found the donut box. He poked his finger around the stacks until he found a jelly filled one. “Tried what?”

“Finding you.”

He’d just bit into the thing when Rhodey dropped him into the painful present. The jelly soured in his mouth but he finished chewing it. Swallowing felt like swallowing marbles of sand. “It...ah. You couldn’t. It wasn’t. It--” Bruce tried again. “There weren’t any drones, like we have now. Facial recognition software was shit back then. And I was really good at hiding.”

“But I found Tony. I should’ve found you. I’m...sorry I couldn’t.”

Bruce shook his head like an animal shaking off a collar. “No, don’t. It’s not--”

“No. Remember it wasn’t just you and Tony, and me and Tony. It was me and you, too.”

He couldn’t say anything to counter because it’d just make it worse. Sadness threatened to overwhelm Bruce but he hid it by taking another bite of donut. He had to spin it, though.  “Can’t really change the past,” he said, mouth full of jelly. “We both got hit hard, y’know? It changed all of us. Everything did. We changed.”

Rhodey nodded. “We did. If we hadn’t, you would’ve known about this place when I did. You would’ve been a part of it.”

Sighing heavily, he ran a hand over his rough skin. He needed a shave, badly. “I don’t know, Rhodey. I don’t...this is too much. All of it. I don’t know what it is, but now I’m culpable. What--what’s the end goal really? What’s the purpose? What’s my purpose?”

“Well,” Rhodey sighed. He cocked his head, peering at Bruce. “It’s always been the three of us, you know that. If one of us doesn’t make it, it doesn’t work. It would’ve never worked without you. Tony’s mind would’ve been worried. I would’ve worried. We had to have a consensus.”

“Merging of the minds?”

Rhodey shrugged. “If it makes you feel better.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“Haven’t said no either.”

Bruce finished his donut, allowing it to settle the fear building in his stomach. “But if I do? If I walk away?”

“Nothing will happen. But I imagine we’d get shut down in a few years or we’d move up our time table. Either scenario’d probably hurt us.”

“I...shit. Rhodey, I need to know. I can’t make any decisions without knowing the big picture.”

“You willing to hear it all out, Bruce? From start to finish, without bolting?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Fair.”

“I mean...” Bruce grabbed another donut. A cruller. “Tony wouldn’t’ve dragged me out here on the guise of a two week business trip without good reason. I’d like to hear out this fucking grand plan. Besides I’m guessin’ it’s already in place. It’s just...hovering. Waiting on me to--what? Agree?”

“Probably.”

“And that’s what I’m afraid of.” He peered at Rhodey and swallowed uncomfortably. “So level with me, then. Are...are we the heroes? Or...the villains?”

Rhodey shrugged. “To be determined, I guess. You know as well as I that history’s written by the survivors.”

“ ‘You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.’ “

But Rhodey didn’t respond and Bruce followed his gaze back to the cave. They’d lobbed that phrase at each other for years, laughed at it, used it as a barb whenever one of them messed up in a major way. But it never seemed more apt, than now.

Bruce sighed. “I’m going to take that shower now.”

“Mm.”

The rest of the day would probably break him, but he was used to being broken.

[star-captain]

Chapter 1- Discovery

A small, lonesome ghost travels between the dilapidated homes of a once suburban paradise. Now, the paradise is little more than rusted cars with remnants of the people who owned them. Most bones of those who died during the Collapse are long gone, but the clothes and shoes remain- and for those his kind is looking for, the spark.

    Over five hundred years of searching, hoping to one day find his match. Day after day he scans remains, hoping to find that glimmer of light amongst all that death. Most of the time he had avoided places where darkness once lingered, that corruption lingering in the land. But today, he had to avoid a legion of Cabal by entering the place he didn’t want to go.  As the night encompasses the land, the ghost tries to make refuge of a home which wall had fallen and since gown with plants. He’s too tired to think of scanning the two bodies that are there, so he finds a soft copse of leaves to rest in.

    He’s far from the Traveler and the Last City. Every so often he’d return to the Last City, meet with other ghosts and recover from his centuries of searching. Ghosts that he had worked with in the past as unaccompanied beings suddenly had Guardians. They felt so happy, he couldn’t help but feel miserable. So he kept searching.

He sighs, glancing over at the clothes slumped against the wall. One was made of kevlar, a soldier of some kind. The other was simple clothes, a civilian. He can’t help but at least test these two before he rests.

This ghost knew he wouldn’t know what his guardian would look like, but he had a feeling based on the spark he was looking for. A true fighter, a person who will do anything to prove themself- probablya titan class, a strong person who once was a brave soldier. A soldier like this one before him?

Opening his scan, he roves over the two remains to find the impossible. That spark, among the two bodies. Is it true? Has he finally found his guardian, the soldier who gave their life to aid another. Filled with life, he finally gets to do what he’s never done before. Filling his little shell with Light, the Traveler’s gift surging from him into the resurrecting guardian.

With a burst of light the bonded pair are both blinded. It’s like an explosion of Light, and when the Ghost can see again brilliant, glowing blue eyes are blinking back. An Awoken, which is to be expected when a body is ressurected where darkness lived. A woman, which he wasn’t surprised either- some of the strongest soldiers were women.

But what surprises him most is the clothes she wears, and her age. Most guardians are in their late twenties and onward- she can’t be any older than 19, but she looks even younger. She was also a warlock, wearing a bond made of simple materials. On the ground remained the kevlar. Did he misfire? No, that spark still remains in the body of the confused girl looking around.

“Wh-what’s going on?” She asks, a shy voice struggling to figure out who it is speaking out.

The Ghost glances around, before pulling a torn tablecloth from the ground and tossing it around her small shoulders. She seems cold, like her dead body is just starting to warm back up. “I...You’ve been gone for quite some time, guardian. I imagine that you have no memory of who you were-”

“Guardian? What is that?” Her eyes flick around, before looking back at the unusual being before her. She was cold, freezing. She curls into her tablecloth, listening to the being speak.

“A guardian is a protector of mankind- or what’s left of it. Do you remember the Traveler?” The Ghost asks. Lucky for him, that’s common knowledge that seems to stick beyond death, so she nods. “The Traveler has seen you as someone who has great potential, and given you life once more- life with great abilities. The Traveler’s Light flows through you, an instrument of the Traveler to protect humanity.”

She seems to be following along, because immediately she comes up with another question. “What are you then?”

He spins his shell, intrigued by his guardian. All these questions, the curiosity makes him bubble with excitement. Her eyes seem to glow with seeking of knowledge. He was hoping for a strong titan, but he really is liking the curious warlock. “I’m a ghost- I’m your ghost. I’m a piece of the traveler broken off as it died, born to find you. Created to give humanity a chance to endure a dark age.”

He can see her think, looking around. “So I’ve been dead...and the Traveler chose me to be resurrected to protect mankind. You brought me back to life, and gave me powers for that job...I guess I understand.” She whispers to herself. But he can see another question forming. “What happened in the years I was...gone?”

There’s the distant sound of a roar from Cabal legions- nothing close enough for him to sense danger for the weak, young guardian. Right now she’s too fresh to be ready to fight off cabal- maybe a few fallen or hive but nothing as bloodthirsty as them. Her eyes are wide as she seems to take in her surroundings. Like clockwork, she looks around at the building she’s in and takes note of every detail- gleaning information from what she sees.

The farthest wall, past a few indoor walls separating the building, was torn through. Bricks from it lay within the house, scattered among ivy vines that have creeped in as nature took back control. The wallpaper of the home is little more than scraps hanging on the wall, and dirt covers most of the floor. Pictures are shattered on the ground, holding lost memories. Outside, she can see rusted cars and other homes in similar disarray. It looks like something out of a nuclear disaster.

“From my estimation, you died around the Collapse. The Traveler has enemies, and it’s enemies found it, and us that were close to the Traveler. The darkness was going to consume us all, and the Traveler fought back- and died to end the darkness once and for all. In the process, ghosts were created. Since then the remains of humanity have been living in one city- the last city- with guardians protecting. There have been problems with other races of aliens wanting the Traveler, but we’re finally starting to get back on our feet.” As he says that, the girl stands. She’s short- hardly over five feet- another surprise. She walks over to a fogged window pane, using it to see herself for the first time in centuries.

The ghost with the grey-white shell and orange tips slowly approaches behind her, taking up the empty air over her shoulder. The two look at the reflection, and slowly a orchid purple hand rises to meet the orchid purple skin of the warlock’s face. Piercing, cyan green eyes  rove over the image, a finger tracing along the thin lines under each eye by her nose, then brushing each tiny dot inward to the center of her forehead, then the long line that widens at the bridge of her nose before thinning out again. It’s silent for a minute, and the ghost can tell another question is forming. He thought he’d hate all these questions, all these curiosities- but he actually really likes watching how she thinks, and filling in the blanks she has.

“Why do I look like this? Is this because I was dead?” She asks, brushing her lips before pulling the makeshift blanket over her shoulders and huddling in the corner farthest from the other dead body.

“No- not at all. You may have been human when you died- but now you��re Awoken. Your body...I think it mixed with the darkness that once ruled this land, and changed your DNA so that when I ressurected you, you were the newer species of humanoids.” A little light goes off in her head, and she nods.

“I remember...a new form of life. Exos. Humans and Exos were there.” He expected that- more common knowledge that remained. Hopefully she doesn’t get into the habit that some warlocks will do- go in search of their past. Hunters and warlocks have a tendency to do that. While it’s not forbidden anymore, it is still heartbreaking sometimes. “So...there’s a new kind of people.” She smiles a little, in a way that makes the ghost feel like maybe he made the right choice- she’s got something special, something he can see in those inquisitive eyes and that brave smile.

“You’ve had a long night...I have too.” He sighs, feeling that rush of finally finding his guardian fade back to the weariness he felt before. “And getting you to a transmat will be even harder. It’ll be best if we try to find some sleep.” The ghost nestles into the vines he first tried to rest in, and when he reopens his eye he sees his young guardian looking at him. She shifts in her blanket, leaving a space open between her arm and stomach.

“You need somewhere cozy to sleep too. Come on over.”  The ghost felt relief and joy at the invitation, snuggling close to his guardian. He tries to keep his shell from digging into her side, but he doesn’t think she notices- because by the time he finds comfort between her and the blanket she’s already slowed in breathing. She’s asleep, and he can’t help but wonder how tiring it must be to wake up from death. He looks at his warlock, his surprise guardian, before closing his eye and finding rest.

[rebellingstagnationblog]

“Glitter and Gold” by RebellingStagnation

Before reading, I highly encourage you read @rubbersoles19’s “Bitter, Bile, and Cold” as this story is directly connected to it. It is also a direct parallel to “Safe and Sound.”

Amelia challenged me to write a story with Negaduck and Gosalyn that took place between the two years when “A Very Merry Geronimo Christmas” took place (so in between “The Bells of Christmas” and “Meet Me Under the Mistletoe”). She also gave me four quotes to use throughout the story, which came from The Princess Bride:

“You've made your decision, then?”

“I wasn’t nervous. Maybe I was a little concerned, but that’s not the same thing.”

“I told you I would always come for you.”

“I can cope with torture.”

This is the result! I hope you enjoy :)

You can read on AO3, FF.Net, or on the Negaverse. It’s also under the cut if you want to read right here right now!

When Negaduck came downstairs in the early light of sunrise, Gosalyn was standing near the kitchen table. Her arrows were splayed out across its surface and she was meticulously checking each one before either packing it into her quiver or returning it to her arsenal bag.

Negaduck blinked in surprise. He had been sure that he'd have to wake her before it was time to leave. As it was, she didn't even glance up when he shuffled into the kitchen.

Reaching for the refrigerator, he managed to curl his fingers around the door handle before Gosalyn said, "It's empty."

He glanced back at her, but she was still focused on choosing arrows. As he moved towards his cupboards instead, she said, "They're empty, too."

Scowling and not nearly awake enough for this, Negaduck ripped one of the cabinets open anyway. His annoyance spiked when nothing but bare shelves stared back at him.

He must've growled under his breath because Gosalyn said, "Told you," as she slipped a burgundy feathered arrow into her quiver.

Negaduck snarled, loud enough to be heard this time, and rounded on Gosalyn. "Really appreciate the commentary."

She shrugged, still not looking up from her task. "You're the one who decided to not stock your kitchen."

"I haven't had time."

"Right. Investigating the Negaverse's S.H.U.S.H. organization on your own has really eaten into your schedule. I get it."

Negaduck swore, running his hands through his feathers. He considered fighting back, challenging why she was hanging onto her anger, but he didn't have the energy. Fighting with Gosalyn was always a marathon, and he hadn't prepared for that before stumbling down into the kitchen, so he stalked up to his room to throw on his suit instead.

Good thing Gosalyn was already awake, they'd have to leave early and scrounge up something to eat before heading over to St. Canard University. Maybe the walk would cool her temper and clear his head enough for them to be rational and talk this out.

Although Gosalyn was already being rational. Which was the most frustrating part. Her anger was righteous.

And Negaduck hated that.

After tucking his usual weaponry into the hidden pockets and pouches of his costume, Negaduck stomped back downstairs. Gosalyn was standing next to the front door, fully costumed herself, with her quiver strapped across her back. She still wouldn't look directly at him and he'd never realized how much he depended on those endless green eyes until he was denied them. Green was the color which the eye could see the most shades in. It symbolized life, renewal, and energy.

And he currently didn't have access to any of that.

Frustration mounting, Negaduck trudged out of the house and started walking down the street, not bothering to wait for Gosalyn. She caught up anyway, not even winded as she tucked away her keys into the pouches at her waist. Which was even more annoying; he was suffering under the ice of her anger, why wasn't she withering under the heat of his?

They walked in silence for two blocks before Negaduck cracked.

"No pithy comments or follow up questions before we head in there?" he asked. More like growled.

Gosalyn glanced over to him, her gaze cool. And that's when her realized that receiving her attention was much worse than being ignored. "I figured you would tell me anything I needed to know when it was convenient for you."

Negaduck ground his teeth and balled his hands into fists to avoid rubbing his face in exasperation. They were out in public, he needed to look composed and intimidating. "I didn't want to get you involved."

"That's not how this," she gestured between the two of them, "works. Because newsflash, I'm involved now."

"After I neutralized the threat!"

"After you nearly got yourself killed doing it!" Gosalyn rounded on Negaduck, hands on her hips and radiating cold fury. Negaduck stopped in his tracks, curling his beak into a sneer as he stared her down.

"You need to trust me," she said.

Negaduck balked, taking a step back. "After everything we've been through, how can you think that I don't trust you?"

"Not like that," Gosalyn said, waving away his words. "Trust me to fight and protect myself. To protect you if I have to."

Shaking his head and stepping around Gosalyn, Negaduck continued down the street. "That is not how this works," he said, echoing her words from before.

"It has to be!" Gosalyn caught up to him easily.

"No it doesn't," Negaduck snarled, stopping to stare at her. "And if you don't stop thinking like that, then this," he gestured between them, mocking what she'd done earlier, "is over."

Gosalyn's gaze hardened to ice and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Then tell me what this is."

Negaduck rolled his eyes and continued walking.

Until a tug at his cape had him stumbling backwards.

"Because last I checked," Gosalyn continued, her fingers twisted in the recesses of his cape, "we were partners. Equals. Don't you dare treat me like a second-rate heroine who can't defend herself and is just along for the ride."

Negaduck faced her fully, beak set in determination. "Either you let me take the lead and do as I say, or you go back to your own universe."

She studied him in silence before asking, "Why bring me? If all you're gonna do is go on cases alone, lie to me about them, and then not even let me fight if it comes down to it, why have me go at all?"

Because she grounded him. Because she was what he fought for no matter how dire the situation. Because when she was near, he felt stronger, smarter, and more capable.

But admitting that. The words stuck in his throat.

So instead, he snatched his cape free from her grip and said, "I've been asking myself that since we left the house."

Spinning on his heel, he stalked down the street. Wound down alleys and crossed intersections-turned-swamps without looking back. Either she was following or she'd called him on his bluff and returned home.

He told himself that he didn't care. That whatever decision she made, he would deal with it.

In reality, he was terrified. To look over his shoulder. Regardless if she was there or not.

If she was following him, he'd bullied her into tagging along. Had reduced her to the hapless heroine she was afraid of being taken for.

If she'd gone home, he'd driven her away. Had made her believe that she was useless and would be of better use elsewhere.

He hated himself for forcing her hand instead of letting her decide for herself.

But S.H.U.S.H. was dangerous. Especially in this universe. All secrets and politics with a dash of corruption and ruthlessness. Negaduck had barely escaped with his life last time and that was only because he'd killed most of the organization's members to get away. Bringing Gosalyn along to this investigation of their headquarters today was risky. But he couldn't face the organization alone. Not again.

And Negaduck needed to see their base of operations. Had to make sure the spy ring was dead once and for all. Look into the information they had on him. Find out how they knew his name — his real name — how they knew about Gosalyn. See if what they had claimed was true: that Stellar had founded the organization in the first place and they'd been keeping tabs on Negaduck his whole life long.

There was a lot at stake. Most of it personal. So, of course he'd wanted to bring Gosalyn. He wasn't strong enough to battle this on his own.

But the girl had focused on the past, on how close he'd come to dying in that warehouse by the Bay instead of on the threat they were going up against now. Gotten angry at him for venturing out on a case without her.

Coming to a stop, Negaduck tried to remember how to breathe. In and out was so much easier when his chest wasn't constricted. When he wasn't wondering if Gosalyn had followed him all this way.

Inhaling shakily, Negaduck glanced back over his shoulder.

And tried to push away the crushing loneliness.

Gosalyn was gone.

Of the two options, it was probably the better one. This way, she was safe. S.H.U.S.H. — if any of them remained — couldn't hurt her now.

But selfishly.

Negaduck allowed his gaze to rove over the city block just in case he'd missed her amongst the shadows cast by the overgrown trees.

He hadn't.

God, today would be so much easier if she was standing beside him.

However, what was good for him was not always good for her. He had to remember that.

It was better this way. No use dwelling on what wouldn't be. He had to focus on what was in front of him.

Something brushed his arm and he whipped around, reaching for his Glock.

"It's just me," came Gosalyn's voice and Negaduck's fingers froze on the gun. He turned around.

And there she was. Standing beside him.

"Where…?" he asked, unable to form much of a thought and keeping his eyes fixed on her. As if she were some type of phantom.

Or hallucination.

That wasn't helping.

"I came that way," she said, pointing in the opposite direction where Negaduck had approached from. She held up a paper bag and a small caddy with two travel cups filled with what smelled like coffee. "You didn't have anything in your kitchen. Do we have time to eat before heading in there?" she nodded towards the university campus that had acted as S.H.U.S.H.'s headquarters.

Negaduck glanced at the breakfast before transferring his gaze to her. "There's a working coffee shop in the Negaverse?"

"One I'm not telling you about," Gosalyn said, sitting down on the curb. "You'll probably blow it up or something if you know where it is." She set down the food and coffees on the sidewalk beside her. "I know you only feast on the souls of your victims and have a cup of their fear every morning for breakfast, so I went with black coffee and an egg sandwich with smoked cheese cause I figured that's pretty much the same thing."

His chest feeling normal again, Negaduck took a bracing breath before sitting beside her. "You've made your decision then?"

Gosalyn handed him his breakfast. "I'm still mad at you, but I figure that can wait until this scouting mission is over." She looked him in the eye, some of her ire gone. "No matter how I feel, I'll always come for you. I wouldn't leave you alone."

He knew that.

Here was the proof right beside him. Not only had she returned for this scouting mission, but she'd searched hundreds of parallel universes looking for him. Eventually even found him in Oblivion and brought him back home.

So he knew he wasn't ever really alone as long as Gosalyn was around.

But knowing something to be true and believing it were two separate things.

It wasn't Gosalyn's fault; she hadn't planted this seed of doubt in his mind.

Oblivion had.

It wasn't a question that Gosalyn would come for Negaduck if he needed her. It was a question if this was real. If he'd actually escaped that hell hole. If he wasn't hallucinating all of this.

Because he'd hallucinated in Oblivion. Hallucinated Gosalyn. A lot.

So he still hesitated. Still went off on missions without her, sometimes just because he forgot that he was back. Even for a few moments.

It was stupid. He'd been home for a year. You'd think he would have adjusted. Figured out what was real and what were remnants of that hellish nightmare.

But no.

Gosalyn balled her trash and tossed it into the paper bag that had carried their breakfast. She held it open for Negaduck where he discarded the empty coffee cup and mostly eaten sandwich. Standing and draining the rest of her coffee, Gosalyn walked over to a trash can and tossed the bag inside.

"This whole city is a garbage can," Negaduck pointed out, standing and smoothing out his suit. "You don't have to use trash cans. No one empties them."

She glanced back at the trash can before looking at Negaduck. "Someone must. That one's lined with a trash bag and it's only half full."

Feathers standing on end, Negaduck turned to face St. Canard University. S.H.U.S.H. would be the type to want a tidy work environment. "Stay close," he said.

They walked through the campus side by side, glancing around the academic buildings and keeping alert. Just because Negaduck had killed off most of S.H.U.S.H. during their previous meeting didn't mean there weren't survivors, probably clinging to hope that they would one day rise again.

Negaduck would kill them, too. Anyone who had escaped his previous attack. After getting the information he wanted, he would torch this place and spend the next few weeks hunting down any stray survivors. Because if J. Gander had been telling the truth, Stellar had created S.H.U.S.H.. Which meant it had to go. Every. Last. Bit of it.

"This place is huge," Gosalyn said, glancing around them. "There's no way to know which of these buildings has the information you're looking for."

"We're not splitting up," Negaduck said.

Gosalyn sighed. "I'm not saying we have to stray far from one another, but we could cover more ground apart. You said there were probably only a few rogue agents, right? That's nothing we can't handle on our own."

"No," Negaduck ground out, glancing down the cracked sidewalk that stretched between two buildings. There were no weeds or plants springing up from the rift in the concrete. Any other place in the Negaverse would be overgrown with vegetation. But this whole campus was strangely void of plant life aside from the cleanly cut grass, trimmed trees, and carefully cultivated flower beds.

Just like a normal city.

He didn't like it.

"Okay, okay, we won't split up," Gosalyn said. "Can we at least investigate different floors in the same building?"

They walked past a field, the grass a rich green despite the lack of rainfall lately. Studying the buildings that surrounded the knoll, Negaduck noticed they were in decent shape. Their facades weren't crumbling, the windows were still fitted with glass panes, nor were their foundations sinking.

Someone, or an agency of someone's, was taking care of this place.

"Cause this," Gosalyn gestured to the campus, "will take us weeks to search."

It was big. St. Canard University was the largest school this side of Duckburg.

Negaduck glanced at Gosalyn. "We can take different floors," he agreed. "But you run into anything, fire your gun three times and I'll come find you."

Gosalyn nodded as they walked towards the library. "Only if you do the same."

He sighed but didn't argue.

The library took up the rest of their morning and yielded nothing of use. Any books that were covered in less dust than others were glanced through, but they were just regular books in the end. Why anyone would want to read such thrilling sagas as Jane Eyewren was beyond him.

Negaduck and Gosalyn continued into the next building.

Then the next.

Each just as empty as the last and not in any form of disrepair. They were a little dusty, but otherwise in decent shape. Classrooms and lecture halls and offices and art studios and a theater all with nothing to reveal about the organization.

Which annoyed the hell out of Negaduck.

Gosalyn eventually suggested looking through the science buildings before calling it quits, and they trudged over to the conglomeration of halls and laboratories as the sun started to set. They'd wasted an entire day with nothing to show for it.

Negaduck glanced down a hallway and sighed when it was all clear. He stalked down the corridor, searching through each laboratory on the floor, his anger mounting with every empty room.

As he entered the last lab, a gunshot pierced through the silence.

Negaduck dropped to the ground, his arms coming up to protect his head.

No bullet whizzed past.

No footsteps thudded down the hall.

The shot hadn't even been loud enough to come from behind him.

So what in the hell…?

Another shot resonated through the building, Negaduck able to pinpoint the sound as coming from the floor below.

Where Gosalyn was.

Three shots for help. That had been their agreement.

He didn't wait for a third one before he had sprung to his feet and was hurtling down the hall looking for the stairwell he'd used earlier.

If he'd been in his right mind, he would have gone to Gosalyn on the first shot. Even though she carried a gun as part of her hero arsenal, she still didn't like to use it. Preferred her trick arrows.

There was also the possibility that she hadn't fired the weapon.

'Come on, Baby Girl,' he thought, running all the faster. 'One more shot. It was three. Three was the signal. You can do it. Just one more.'

Where was the damn stairwell? Had he passed it? Should he break through a window and repel down the building?

Negaduck was about to do just that, Glock in hand to shoot out the glass, when he found the door to the stairwell.

He ripped it open.

And came to an abrupt halt.

Large looming lugging Agent Gryzlikoff was on the other side, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Mr. Mallard," he purred, advancing into the hallway. "I knew you would not be far off."

Negaduck backed away, gripping his Glock all the tighter as he kept eye contact with the hulking bear. "I shot you. I shot you right between…." He trailed off, seeing the scar from a bullet wound in the center of Gryzlikoff's forehead.

Gryzlikoff's smile spread into a grin. "That you did. But our S.H.U.S.H. scientists are the best in the world." He continued to walk forward, each step measured and smooth as Negaduck tripped and stumbled backwards into a classroom, eventually backed up against the far wall. "They offered to fix the scar, but I said no. I wanted something to remind me of everything we lost to you. What I lost."

Negaduck had been so stupid. So very stupid to think S.H.U.S.H. wouldn't try to enact some sort of revenge for that warehouse meeting. And he'd led Gosalyn right to them.

Two gunshots. That was all he'd heard. His blood ran cold.

Aiming his gun, Negaduck shot Gryzlikoff in the head.

The bullet bounced off of the agent, a metallic ping echoing around the room. Negaduck ducked to avoid being hit by the rogue bullet.

Gryzlikoff laughed, the sound hollow in his metal chest. "You cannot hurt me anymore than you already have."

A monstrous paw grabbed Negaduck by his throat, lifting him off the floor. Negaduck struggled against the paw, but it was useless; the bear was made of steel.

Gryzlikoff brought Negaduck up to his eye level and peered at him. "But you can be hurt in so many ways. I have been thinking of nothing else."

Negaduck scoffed as well as he could with his throat restricted. "I can cope with torture."

Gryzlikoff grinned. "Then I look forward to being creative."

With that, Gryzlikoff threw Negaduck out of a nearby window.

The force of Gryzlikoff's fist shattered the glass, the shards lacerating Negaduck as he fell backwards through the air.

He hadn't been high up. Just on the second floor. So he didn't have time to twist into a position that would be best for impact. Stars sparked in front of his vision as he landed on his back. When he could catch his breath again, Negaduck groaned and tried to turn over, to curl in on himself, but his back was in utter agony no matter the position he tried to assume.

Gryzlikoff jumped out of the window, rage and satisfaction warring on his face.

As the bear — who looked much larger than he used to; what had those S.H.U.S.H. scientists done to him? — descended, his claws extended and fangs gleaming, Negaduck scrambled backwards, desperate to get away. But his battered body wouldn't allow much of an escape, his cuts screaming and his back an inferno of pain.

But still he tried. He'd lost his gun in the fall and he couldn't find it in him to draw another weapon, so he focused on fleeing.

Gryzlikoff landed on the sidewalk with an almighty thud, the tremors wracking Negaduck's body, dragging a groan from him. The bear smirked as he loomed over Negaduck.

Negaduck glared up at him.

As Gryzlikoff went rigid and toppled over.

Negaduck just managed to get out from under the bear, back exploding in a wave of pain, before he crashed to the ground. Gryzlikoff loosed a roar and clawed at his legs. A bola chord was securely wrapped around his legs and one of his arms, effectively trapping the lower half of his body.

Knowing that particular weapon, Negaduck looked up.

And saw Gosalyn. Disheveled with blood streaming down her face, but otherwise unharmed.

She ran around Gryzlikoff, giving him a wide berth, and crouched next to Negaduck. "Can you walk?" she asked, a gentle hand on his shoulders.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out.

"Probably," she said. "One of the agents had a knife. C'mon." She grabbed him around his chest and pulled him up to standing. He grit his teeth against the movement, but couldn't hold in his groan. Gosalyn studied his face for a moment. "Let's go."

"No!" Gryzlikoff reached for them, but he was still bound up to his waist and he couldn't do much more than slap the ground with his paw. "The Director will not have died in vain!"

Gosalyn tucked herself under Negaduck's arm and began to lead him away. Negaduck leaned into her more than he'd ever admit, his body too sore to have managed this alone. Hell, he'd barely been able to move away from Gryzlikoff; he never would have managed an escape.

A thundering roar caused the earth to tremble around them and stopped the pair in their tracks. Gosalyn glanced back and muttered a curse before gently lowering Negaduck to the ground.

"What the f—"

"Stay down," Gosalyn snapped, turning to face Gryzlikoff as her fingers danced over the feathers of her arrows. Finding the one she wanted, she yanked the arrow out and nocked it.

Gryzlikoff ripped through his bola restraint.

Negaduck dug through his pockets, gritting his teeth against the crippling back spasm and searched for some type of weapon. He wasn't sure what good he could do since his guns were useless against the bear, but rifle through his pockets he did, desperate to keep Gosalyn safe.

His fingers curled around the barrel of another pistol as Gosalyn fired her arrow. It hit Gryzlikoff square in the chest, sparks of the taser flickering brightly against the dying light of the setting sun.

Gryzlikoff looked down at the arrow then glanced back at Gosalyn. He gripped the shaft and tugged the arrow out of his chest, crushing it to splinters.

Gosalyn was feeling for her next arrow as Gryzlikoff started to advance.

Negaduck pulled out his pistol, rearranging his grip on the handle, saying, "Get the hell outta here."

"Shut up," Gosalyn said, pulling out another arrow, nocking, drawing, aiming, and firing.

The net deployed and wrapped around Gryzlikoff, dragging him backwards and then to the ground as anchors dug into the cement sidewalk, securing the ends. The bear roared and Gosalyn glanced back at Negaduck.

"I can handle this," she said.

Negaduck was distracted by movement in his peripheral vision and he focused on Gryzlikoff. Who was standing and ripping through the net, his expression furious. Negaduck sat up, then reclined back onto an elbow when his back protested at the movement. He released the safety on his pistol.

"Leave. Right now." He aimed at Gryzlikoff. "And don't look back."

Gosalyn spun to face Gryzlikoff who was now running towards them, teeth bared. She reached back for another arrow.

"Did I stutter?" Negaduck said, firing two rounds in quick succession. They bounced off Gryzlikoff harmlessly, not even slowing his progress.

Gosalyn felt the fletching of her arrows. After running her fingers over one, she withdrew her hand as if burned.

"Get out of here!" Negaduck shot three more rounds. Trying to distract. Trying to do anything.

Gryzlikoff started running on all fours, digging his front paws into the ground to pick up speed.

Gosalyn felt the fletching again, grabbing an arrow and withdrawing it.

She nocked, drew, aimed. And waited.

The ground trembled with each bound Gryzlikoff took, cement shattering under his strength.

"Gosalyn Mallard!" Negaduck cried, emptying the rest of his pistol. He tossed the useless thing aside then reached for her. "Listen to me, dammit!"

Gryzlikoff took a flying leap, his jaws opening wide as he jumped straight at Gosalyn.

Unable to breathe, Negaduck feebly grabbed for her, but missed, his trembling hand unable to reach.

Gosalyn fired her arrow when Gryzlikoff was at the highest point in his arc.

Then she spun around and dropped to one knee, effectively shielding Negaduck.

He managed to grab onto her, trying to pull her down underneath him. But Gosalyn held her position.

Negaduck shut his eyes, digging his fingers into the fabric of her suit.

This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Gosalyn couldn't sacrifice herself for him. He wasn't worth—

The world shuddered around them.

Negaduck held onto Gos all the tighter. If this was Gryzlikoff taking her away, then he was taking Negaduck, too. He wouldn't be separated from his girl for anything.

But there were no teeth. No claws. No roars. Just some distant — non-bear — yells.

Gosalyn tried to pull away, but Negaduck gripped her close.

"Hey, we're okay," Gosalyn said, her hands on his shoulders. "You gotta let me go."

That was asking the impossible of him.

"Negaduck. Come on." Gosalyn pushed at him. "Gryzlikoff's gone, but those S.H.U.S.H. agents aren't."

There were enough snippets of information in Gosalyn's statement that caught his attention. Broke through his tumultuous thoughts and brought him back to himself. Negaduck opened his eyes.

Gosalyn was staring at him. "You're okay. Now…." She gently pushed him away and he withdrew his arms from around her. "There you go," she encouraged before grabbing his discarded pistol and standing.

She turned around.

To where a handful of S.H.U.S.H. agents were advancing on them.

Instead of aiming the gun and trying to shoot at the agents, Gosalyn threw the pistol at the closest agent's knees. He dodged the projectile, but Gosalyn had used the distraction to its fullest and was on the move.

She spun into the agent, hitting him in the solar plexus. She simultaneously swung her bow out wide, hitting another agent in the face, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

Gosalyn elbowed the first agent in the nose before withdrawing an arrow and spinning away from him. She nocked, drew, aimed, and fired at the remaining handful of agents who were running toward her.

The net easily captured all of them, securing the group to the sidewalk with the deployed anchors.

She turned back to the first agent, firing another net arrow around him. A putty arrow surrounded and secured the second agent who was curled in the fetal position nursing his face from when Gosalyn had hit him with her bow.

Standing straight, she studied their surroundings for further threats as she wiped her forehead, smearing the trail of blood just above her eyebrow. She glanced back to Negaduck and asked, "You okay?"

He wasn't sure what he was.

Everything had happened so quickly that he was still catching up.

But one question kept circling in his mind.

"Where's Gryzlikoff?"

Gosalyn swallowed before thumbing over her shoulder to her quiver. "Exploding arrow."

"To the face?"

She hesitated. "Down his throat."

Negaduck blinked and she shrugged, shifting her weight onto one leg. Then the other. "Your bullets weren't working, so there wasn't anything that was gonna break through his metal exoskeleton or whatever it was. I went from the inside out. Which seems to have worked."

Unstringing her bow, Gosalyn slid it in its place along the side of her quiver and walked over to Negaduck.

She helped him stand and, once he could look her in the eye without straining his neck, he said, "Next time, you leave me behind and save yourself."

Gosalyn studied him before shaking her head. "I told you I would always come for you." She ducked under his arm and started leading him off the campus. "Besides, I'm practically a Duckvenger. Technically, I'm more qualified for this than you are."

"What the hell is a Duckvenger?" he groused.

Before she had time to explain, more shouts echoed around the buildings followed by the sound of car engines igniting.

Gripping Negaduck tighter, Gosalyn picked up the pace. He had to let her practically carry him along, too sore to go much faster than a hobble.

The science buildings were along the edges of the campus, and before too long, they were exiting out the front gates they'd stepped through earlier that morning.

Negaduck was panting and gasping as Gosalyn led them across the street into a long abandoned building. She eased Negaduck onto the ground and grabbed her bow once more, stringing it and looking out one of the broken windows towards the university. Reaching back, she pulled out an arrow that Negaduck recognized.

He glanced up at her. "That one? You sure?"

"I know you wanted information from them, but they're not gonna stop coming after us, and—"

"I don't care about the information," he said. "There are agents in there. You're gonna hit them with that?"

Gosalyn studied the arrowhead. "I mean… it's them or us, yeah? Ultimately, this is the right choice."

His own words from all those years ago said back to him forced Negaduck into a decision. Pushing himself up so he was sitting straight, he gestured for the bow. "Hand 'em over."

Gosalyn glanced down at him, a frown on her beak. "You're in no condition to—"

"One arrow won't kill me." He groaned as he pushed himself onto his knees. Gosalyn kneeled down, weapons on the floor as she gripped his shoulders.

Negaduck glanced up at her, gently wiping away the blood on her forehead to stop it from streaming into her eyes. "I know you'll do whatever it takes to protect me. But you don't need to go that far. Not this time."

Gosalyn gave him a small smile. "I already killed Gryzlikoff."

"So let me take this one." Negaduck pushed himself to standing, Gosalyn's arms wrapped around him to keep him steady. Once he wasn't swaying, he nodded toward her bow and arrow.

She handed them over and Negaduck turned to the window.

Nocked.

And tried to draw, but his back was white hot agony and he had to lean against the wall to try and clear his head.

Gosalyn was there, her hands on his sides.

A fifty pound draw. That's all this was.

He stood straight and tried to draw again, but couldn't even get half way before he was trembling and biting back expletives.

Gosalyn gently took the bow and arrow from him.

"No, I can— I can do it." Negaduck breathed deeply to ease the pain away. It didn't fade as fast as he would have liked.

"You'll fire it," Gosalyn promised, drawing and pushing a button on the bow. The arrow held in place, fully drawn and she handed it back to him.

He chuckled as he gripped it. "Forgot about your one-handed bow."

"One-handed release," she corrected. "Push that button there when you're ready."

Aiming for the science buildings, his shoulder aching at the movement, Negaduck fired.

The rocket arrow sailed through the air, traveling faster and flying farther than any other arrow in Gosalyn's arsenal. The explosion that followed held a lot more firepower than a typical exploding arrow. In the smoke and flames that consumed the campus, any and all information Negaduck had been looking for went with it.

But what was a spy organization compared to this girl who gently took her bow back and caught him when he fell?

Nothing.

It was nothing.

—...—...—...—...—...—...—...—...—...—...—...—

"I'd really feel better if you went to a hospital," Gosalyn said, cutting some gauze as she surveyed Negaduck's injuries.

"And I'd feel better if you didn't have a standoff with a raging bear, but we can't always get what we want, can we?" Negaduck tried to roll up his sleeves to better access the cuts on his arms, but his back throbbed with every movement.

Getting back home had been an ordeal, the evening giving way to night by the time they'd reached Avian Way. As his pain had increased and the events of the day sunk in, Negaduck grew more and more angry and now, sitting at his mangled kitchen table, he was fuming.

Gosalyn had been ready to sacrifice herself. Had decided that he was more important alive than she was. She'd blatantly ignored Negaduck and her own safety, going toe-to-toe with an angry grizzly without a second thought.

"You're so dramatic," Gosalyn said, reaching out to roll up Negaduck's sleeves for him. He jerked his arm away, withholding the grunt of pain at the sudden movement.

"You stepped in front of a charging bear and I'm dramatic?" he asked.

Gosalyn sat back in her chair with a huff. "I had to do something. He was going to kill you."

"You let him!" Negaduck thundered, glaring at her. "You let him do whatever the hell he wants to me and you get yourself somewhere safe!"

Gosalyn studied him for a moment. "I can't ever promise that I'm going to be safe. But I'll always do my best to come home." She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward to look him in the eye. "That also means I'm going to do everything I can to bring you home with me."

Negaduck maintained eye contact with her, at war with himself.

He yearned to keep her locked away. To have her run from danger when he told her to. To stay at home when he went on the more dangerous missions.

But that wasn't who Gosalyn was. Or who she would ever be. His fearless headstrong girl would never be content on the sidelines. He'd always loved that about her. Just not when it meant she would put his safety above hers.

It was a lose-lose situation. Either he changed who she was and guaranteed her safety, or he put her at risk as the girl he'd fallen in love with.

At a standstill, Negaduck slumped in his chair.

Gosalyn smiled and nodded to his arms. "Can I help you patch yourself up?"

He tensed, breath getting caught in his throat. "I can do it."

"I know you can," Gosalyn said with a shake of her head, "but you don't have to."

"I…." Negaduck searched for something — anything — to say that would dissuade her.

But nothing would. She was stubborn and would see right through any of his lies.

What about the truth?

She'd probably appreciate that. And he trusted her with it.

Right.

The truth.

"I haven't let anyone do that since… since Mama."

Gosalyn's expression softened. "You can say no. I'll leave you alone if that's easier."

Negaduck swallowed. Easier, maybe. More comfortable, definitely. But lonely and leaving him with an empty ache deep in his gut that had never been soothed.

"No, I'd…. It's fine."

The firm nod, the way Gosalyn scooted her chair forward, brought the medical supplies closer, chased away his embarrassment.

Her fingers skimmed the cuff of his sleeve and she met his eyes. "If I do anything that hurts you, let me know."

Negaduck tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat and he nodded.

Gosalyn unbuttoned his sleeve and gently rolled the fabric up to his elbow. Using cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, Neosporin, and gauze, she methodically and carefully cleaned all the cuts he'd sustained from his exit through the glass window.

It took about an hour, two doses of really good painkillers, and Negaduck stripping down to the ratty shirt he wore under his suit for Gosalyn to be satisfied.

"You'll need to clean the rest yourself," Gosalyn said, leaning back and clearing up the supplies. Negaduck grabbed her wrist and she turned back to look at him.

He nodded to her forehead. "Want me to clean that for you?"

Gosalyn reached up to her cut. "I'll just need to wash my face. I'll be fine."

Tightening his hold, he said, "Let's try that again. May I clean that for you?"

Her soft smile returned. "Sure."

Using small slow movements to avoid straining his back, Negaduck cleaned off the blood from her feathers, pleased to find the cut was shallow and short.

Smoothing a small bandage over the wound even though it had stopped bleeding long ago, Negaduck breathed easier. Pressing their foreheads together soothed whatever had still been lodged in his chest and he closed his eyes, reveling in the nearness of her.

After a few moments, he said, "I overreact. I'm protective. I know you can fight and keep yourself and everyone around you safe. But I don't think I'll ever tell you to stop running away to save yourself. I love you too damn much." He leaned back.

Gosalyn was smiling, her eyes bright. "I get it. Why you were so nervous. S.H.U.S.H. is pretty formidable."

"I wasn't nervous," Negaduck said right away, his defenses immediately mounting. At Gosalyn's raised eyebrow, he said, "Maybe I was a little bit concerned, but that's not the same thing."

She shook her head and kissed him lightly on the cheek before cleaning up the kitchen table. Negaduck slowly stood, leaning on his chair when his back spasmed.

"You should sleep in the living room," Gosalyn said, sliding the first aid kit into a drawer.

"On that sofa? My back would hurt less if it was actually broken."

"Maybe you should get a new one." She ducked under his arm.

"A back? Not a bad idea." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Negaduck allowed Gosalyn to slowly lead him up the stairs.

"Or a sofa. Which is more practical."

Negaduck would have shrugged if he'd had the range of motion. Or the strength.

At least his medication was finally kicking in. His back was feeling less sensitive, which made the trek upstairs easier. Even when he spread out on his bed, he didn't feel much more than a few uncomfortable twinges.

Maybe he'd be okay.

"You're gonna be fine," Gosalyn said, laughing lightly.

He must've spoken that last part out loud.

Burying his face into the musty pillow, he found that he didn't care. It was only Gosalyn. She'd take care of him.

"I always will," she said, her voice far away. "Get some rest, Papa Wolf. I'll see you in the morning."

A blanket was dragged up and over his shoulder.

He dropped off to sleep easily.

[theranskahovs]

Crimson *Sergei x Reader*

Warnings: period sex. more dirty talk than usual.

A/N: I should just change my url to “sergeimalikov” bc that’s all I ever write now 🤗 do you know how easily I could’ve wrote sergei getting his red wings you’re welcome I didn’t

•••

The warmth of Sergei’s hand on your lower back is soothing, especially when he massages in slow circles. Every few minutes he gets caught up in the show he’s watching and forgets what he’s doing, until he remembers and begins the movement again.

You let out a deep breath as another wave of cramps flows through you. Your fingers tighten their grip on Sergei’s shirt as you let it pass. From your position on the bed you can’t see the TV, but you don’t mind. You’ve wrapped your arms and legs around Sergei, with your face pressed into his neck. Just the thought of moving away from him is unappealing.

Sergei’s hand strokes over your hair absentmindedly, making you want to cuddle even closer to him if it were possible.

“It hurts so bad,” you groan, the sound muffled by his shirt.

“I know, kitten, I’m sorry.” You’ve taken painkillers but they refused to kick in, you were already overheated enough without a heating pad, and Sergei was doing his best but his hand on your back didn’t help that much.

“Have you ever tried sex to help with cramps?” He asks bluntly.

“No. Most guys are terrified of blood.”

“If I was scared of blood then I’m in the wrong business,” Sergei says with a chuckle. “Do you... want to try it, then?”

“Sure. It’s not like it’ll make it worse.” You move up so your faces are level as you give your verdict.

Sergei smiles, leaning in to kiss you and roll you over. “Wait, wait, wait, give me a minute.”

You hop off the bed, going to the bathroom. You grab a towel from the cabinet and peak your head back out to toss it to Sergei; you’re lucky you had a darker one that was clean. You head back into the bathroom, preparing yourself. You debate putting your pants back on but decide against it, knowing they’ll just get bloody anyway. While you’re at it you take off your shirt, it’ll make it easier.

You take a moment to pep talk yourself, reminding yourself you look sexy even if you don’t necessarily feel it. In all honesty you feel bloated and crampy, and those together don’t equal the highest confidence.

You emerge from the bathroom, hurrying to get on the towel. Even though there’s no way anything could be dripping out already you’re scared to stain the carpet.

“What?” you question as you position yourself on the towel. Sergei’s staring at you, making you wonder if there’s already a mess. You feel so vulnerable, and with your hormones a mess it almost makes a frustrated tear spring to your eye.

He grins at you, “You’re so gorgeous, angel.”

You smile sheepishly back as Sergei finishes stripping. Once he’s done you pull him down for a kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

He hovers above you, and you’re glad he’s putting less of his weight on you than usual. Normally it’s a comforting presence, but your stomach is already in too much pain.

You pull back as he starts to pinch your nipple. “Be gentle, everything is sore.” He nods, pressing a kiss to where he pulled too hard.

He presses kisses all over your chest, hands heavy on your waist. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly when he bites your neck. His tongue roves over the area he bit, soothing the sting.

Your nails drag down his chest as he kisses you again. It’s a slow and sensual kiss, not rushed but still just as passionate.

You reach down to stroke Sergei’s half-hard cock, enjoying the low groan he makes. In turn he licks his thumb and reaches between your bodies to play with your clit.

The sensations are heightened and it has you letting out a soft moan. His fingers slip further down and before you know it he’s sliding one in. “Sergei!” You gasp, half in shock and half in pleasure.

He adds another finger, and continues rubbing your clit. He sighs at how tight your grip on his cock is getting, bucking into your hand. Your thumb smears the precum around his red tip.

“Sergei, please,” you whine as his fingers hit your gspot, begging for even more.

“Ready, babygirl?” He grits out.

“Yes, daddy.” The feeling of being empty has your walls clenching around nothing as he pulls his fingers out. He spreads you open and teases your entrance with his dick.

You sit up on your elbows, “Don’t you want a condom?” You don’t think he’d want to get his dick bloody.

“Doesn’t make difference to me” he says with a shrug.

You nod, laying back down. He presses in slowly like you asked, slipping in easily from your arousal and the blood. Both of you moan once he’s fully in.

He grips your thighs, keeping your legs spread open. When you look down to watch his movements, you see red fingerprints on your thighs.

You flush at the sight, knowing by now blood must be all over the towel and on him. You feel so exposed. Somehow it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together.

He fucks you slowly but intensely, and a rough thrust has you crying out and putting your hands on his chest.

He stops instantly. “What’s wrong? What is it?” His eyes are full of love as they search yours, hating that he hurt you.

“I think you hit my cervix, and it did not feel good.”

“Do you want to stop?”

That’s the last thing you want. “No, just- just don’t go that deep.” You laugh to yourself, thinking it’s probably the first and last time you’ll ever say that sentence.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He moves down to your lips, and the kiss radiates ardor.

“Better?” Sergei asks after a while.

“Yes, so much.” Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

He smirks down at you, “Guess my cock is just too big for you.”

You giggle, “Or my cervix is lower this week, but I’ll let you think whatever you want.”

“Oh?” He hums, challenging you to keep talking. If you weren’t feeling so bad he’d probably punish you for making such a comment.

“It’s too big for your pretty mouth, no? That’s why you always choke on it, right?” He angles his hips so he’s hitting your gspot, leaving you a moaning mess.

“Daddy asked you question, kitten.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, making your head spin.

“Mm- yes- your cock’s too big for me,” you grit out, barely able to form an understandable sentence. Your hips roll, desperate to meet his thrusts.

Sergei kisses along your jaw line, nipping at your bottom lip. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you murmur, “Fuck.”

You’d have hoped you wouldn’t be able to think of the pain, but instead it turned into a dull ache. Still there, making you wince if you thought about it, but buried beneath the arousal you felt.

“You feel so perfect, princess,” Sergei groans into your ear. “Gonna make me cum.”

You smirk at the praise. His thrusts get sloppier as he nears the end. You’re not far behind, each circle of your clit sends a zap of electricity to your core. Each press of his dick against your gspot has your walls fluttering around him.

“C’mon baby, cum for daddy,” he encourages. You bite your lip, focusing on how amazing his length feels as each stroke stretches you out.

“Want me to fill your cute little pussy up? Have my cum drip down your legs?”

“Mmmhmm,” you moan out, the beginnings of your orgasm taking hold.

Everything happens so fast. Your clit is being rubbed at what feels like supersonic speed, and every thrust is hitting perfectly.

“Sergei!” You exclaim, before your body takes over, sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your walls tighten around Sergei, bringing his own release. He tightens his grip on your hips, moaning deeply.

He hovers above you, resting his forehead on yours as you both recover. You put your hands on both sides of his face, kissing all over.

He pulls out and rolls over onto his back next to you. You prop yourself up on your elbow, admiring how well the post-sex glow looks on him. You stare at the blood that’s on him, his hands (which by now you’re well used to) and his dick.

“Do you feel better?” He asks.

You nod, smiling back at him. “I need a shower now, though. Join me?”

He makes a sound of agreement, getting up and starting the water. You stay laying down for a moment, remembering the cramps you had before, and acknowledging the way they’re not piercing anymore. You make a mental reminder for next month.

[imagine-darksiders]

How about Karn asking Death for approval to court the tiny human?

Oh wow. I got some serious Karn feels writing this. :( 

It got away from me a bit, admittedly. (I’m saying it sucks) But basically: Thane gives some sound advice, Death is selfish and Karn just can’t catch a break. 

—

“HeyKarn!” 

Theyoung maker jumps a literal foot in the air, crashing back down toEarth and rocking you on your feet when he does. 

“Y/N!?”he yelps, spinning to face you and practically throwing his hands behindhis back in a not-so-subtle attempt to hide whatever he has clenchedbetween his thick, gloved fingers. “W-what’re youdoing here!?” 

“Niceto see you as well,” you smirk playfully, jabbing a thumb over yourshoulder towards the Foundry. “Old Boneheadover there managed to wear out anotherpair of boots, if you’d believe it. Said he needed to ask Alya ifshe had any spares.” Eyeing the maker suspiciously, you jut yourchin over at his concealed hands. “What’ve you gotthere?” 

Karnblanches and stiffens. His shoulder muscles bulge dangerously withhow tightly his arms are being squashed backwards. “Oh, nothin’.S’nothin’….” 

“Uhhuh…”You raise a skeptical eyebrow at the young maker, noting the way thevery tips of his ears have started to tinge pink. You let it slidethough, fully aware that Karn has his quirks that are better leftunchallenged. Instead, you wink up at him with a hopeful grin. “So, am I evergoing to get a proper ‘Hello’ then?” 

Karnlooks around nervously, clutching his hidden prize ever tighter and flushing even pinker. “I, uh…Wellyeah,I just need to, uhhhh….” 

At thatmoment, a pair of loud, thunderous footsteps come thumping down thestone steps towards you. They shake the ground at their approach,bouncing a few pebbles into the air, but you simply grin when ahearty laugh booms through the quiet forge. 

“Maker’sbeard! Didn’t think you were ever coming to see us again!” 

Turningaround, you beam up at the old warrior, Thane, as he bends a knee andtakes your hand between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Comeon, oldman,”you tease,  “You know I go where Death goes. Ifyou’ve got a complaint about not seeing me enough, you’llhave to take it up with him.”

A smirkstretches the warrior’s scarred lip at the ‘old man’comment, but he’d never give you the satisfaction of a retort. Yourhand still resting in his, Thane utilises all of his willpower to beas gentle as possible when he gives your fingers a quick stroke withhis thumb. “Welcome back, Y/n. Forge ain’t the same withoutyou around.” 

Meanwhile,at Thane’s perfectly-timed, unaware distraction, Karn takes theopportunity to hurriedly stuff his secret item into one of thesatchels hanging beside his hip. When it’s done, he breathes a silentsigh of relief and slumps forward. 

Thesound of your light laughter draws his attention again. Theyoungest maker’s grey eyes rove down to where you stand beforeThane, seeing that you’re still exchanging a friendly greetingwith the elder. 

Karn’slips twitch at the mere sight of you. 

Eversince you’d first stepped nervously into The Cauldron, peeking outfrom behind your horseman companion, Karn’s entire world hadstarted to become just that littlebit brighter. 

Hehad seen the light behind your eyes and felt, firsthand, theboundless compassion of your heart. You’d been thrown into a newworld with no guarantee of survival, no hope for a future, but you’dmet him with a smile and a  promise to help in any way youcould. 

At thefirst sign of danger, you’d been scared. Of course you were,how could you not be? You were so small and new. But behind thefrightened eyes and nervous trepidation, Karn could faintly make outthe tiniest spark of excitement. There was a fire in you that burnedsoftly, but surely. It wasn’t obvious, too quelled by the traumayou’d received in the recent months following the end of yourworld, but the flame was undoubtedly there. 

Itwasn’t love at first sight, mainly because the maker wasn’t surewhat love was. He’d merely been enraptured that he finally had a real, honest friend.Then, slowly, the more time you spent around the forge, the more hebecame aware of a strange, unexplored swell of fondness that began togrow in his chest. 

Withouteven knowing it, Karn had tripped, tumbled, rolled and clumsilynose-dived into love with you. 

Andhe has to let you know. He hasto. 

Abruptly,the maker is pulled from his thoughts when he finally notices theabsence of sound. He jolts, eyes focusing on you as you stare up athis face with a cocked eyebrow. With a sinking feeling, Karn realisesthat he’d been caught staring at you this entire time and you’djust asked him a question, but he’d no idea what it was. 

“Huh?”he utters, lamely. 

Puffingout your cheeks, you squint into Karn’s confused eyes. “Isaid,are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem like yourself today…”

Themighty heart within his chest skips a beat or two. Nobodyever notices him like you do. Nobody wants to know.

“Ohno,I’m right as rain,” he nervously chuckles.

Onceagain, you shoot him a concerned glance and bite your lip, but then,you shrug, strolling past him and patting his hand fondly as you do.

“Oooookay,well, I’m gonna go catch up with the twins and Warden. Come find melater, okay?”

“A-aye!”he calls, gazing after you as you trot towards the forge.

Thanewatches the interaction with mild interest. “You know Pup,” hesays, startling Karn from his love-struck trance, “If you wanted tobe any more obvious, we could always hammer a sign onto your foreheadthat says ‘I’m pining after the horseman’s charge.”

Theyoung maker’s blush rockets from the tips of his ears to the top ofhis shoulders at Thane’s suggestion. “Whu-?”

“Ohcome off it, boy.” The warrior rolls his eyes in exasperation.“Even the Warden knows you’ve got your head all in a tizzy overthat little human. And if heknows…” Thane jabs a forefinger into Karn’s chest. “…You canbet that Deathknows too.”

“N'why’sthatso important?” The young maker brushes the warrior’s hand away withgrumble.

Shakinghis head at the cluelessness of his fellow maker, Thane answers,“It’s important,because I don’t think it’d be a bright idea to try and come between tall, dark and gruesome and Y/n. There’s…. somethin’ there. Somethin’ I don’tthink you ought'ta disrupt. Death might not…appreciateit.”

“Well,what else am I s'posed to do?” the young one retorts, “I can’tget Y/n out of my head. I need to tell someone something soon or I’ll-I’ll-”He breaks off and rubs his temple with a tender hand.

Besidehim, Thane blows air through his lips, loudly. “Look,” thewarrior offers, “If you’re really sure about this; a word ofadvice.” He steps closer to Karn and lowers his voice marginally,peering up Muria’s steps, where the horseman had ventured not longago. “I’d approach him about this first…”

“Approachwho?”

Witha huff, the older maker cuffs Karn over the back of his head. “Whatare you, daft,boy?” he scolds, “The horseman,you twit! Who’d you think?” 

Karn’slips part in a soft 'oh’ of understanding. 

But he’s reluctant. It’s mostly because he hates the thought of confronting the horseman aboutsomething so inherently private. Surely Death trusts you to be able to make your own decisions?

His eyes follow Thane’s, up thestone steps towards Muria, before swivelling back down to watch youslip quietly through the large doorway that takes you through to theMaker’s Forge. Quickly, Karn makes up his mind.

Beforehe loses his nerve, he has to tell you how he feels. Hang thehorseman, this isn’t about him. It’s about you.It’s always been about you.

“Eh, sorry Thane,” he mutters, “But I was hoping to avoid Death with this..” 

Throwing his arms up, the warrior lets out a gruff sigh. “Argh, do what you like, Pup. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, he abruptly turns on his heel and stalks back to his training circle, grumbling to himself about ‘impossible youths.’ 

As he leaves, Karnrushes after you down the steps. He’s just about to reach the door,thrusting a hand into his pocket to retrieve your gift when suddenly,he finds his path blocked.

Fromthe staircase that leads up to Muria’s stone gazebo, Death slithersin front on him, effectively stopping the young maker in his tracks.A pair of blazing, fearsome eyes glare up with an intensity strongenough to force Karn back a step or two.

Deathcocks his head to the side, considering the youngling for a fewmomenrts. “Going somewhere, Karn?” he asks, voice holding anunspoken warning, “Why the rush?”

Feelinghis resolve shatter under the horseman’s scrutinising glare, Karnhurriedly yanks his hand from the satchel and starts to twiddle histhumbs, nervous. “Horseman!” he tries, cheerfully, “I just…Iwas just on my way to tell Y/n somethin’, that’s all.”

“Oh?And that somethingcouldn’t have been mentioned when you were both talking a momentago?”

Themaker pauses. “W-well. I uh, forgot?Only just nowremembered what the question even was!”

Death’shead tilts in the opposite direction and he folds his grey, sinewyarms over his chest. “Really?But you appear so keento ask it! Seems a tad too important to have simply slippedyourmind?”

Ina matter of seconds, Karn takes in the horseman’s posture, his toneof voice and the way he’d positioned himself directly in the way ofthe door, through which you’d just disappeared.

Deathgives off an aura of a coiled spring. His arms are taut and tenseagainst his chest and the way he’s standing…..Karn notes that he’sseen that poise before.

It’sa guarding stance, usually reserved for whenever a corruptedconstruct or foul demon turns its muzzle towards you. Discreetly,casually, the horseman would manoeuvre his way in front of you andinto the path of the relevant threat.

Andright now, the perceived threat happens to be a love-sick maker.

Deathis guarding you from Karn.

It’swith a slow, sinking feeling in his gut that the young makerrealises, Thane wasright.

’Thebugger’s onto me...’

Heswallows thickly and tries to work out whether it would be best tolie to the horseman, or come clean and face his wrath regardless.

’Yeah,neither option sounds ideal,’he groans mentally. In the end, he settles for something that’sneither a lie, nor a confession.

“Alrighthorseman, what’s this about?”

“You’vebeen very distractedof late,” Death says with feigned concern, “That wouldn’t havesomething to do with Y/n,now would it?”

Theway he’s drumming his finger tips against one bicep is enough toindicate that trying to deny anything would be a badidea.

Pursinghis lips, Karn glances off to a spot just right of the horseman andshrugs. “It might,” he dares.

Deathmoans loudly and pinches the nose-ridge of his mask, grumbling,“First Draven and now thePup…”

“Draven?”Karn feels a twinge of jealousy flare up in his chest. “Who’sDraven?”

“Nevermind that,” the horseman barks, waving his hand side to side inaggravation. He throws the maker a grim but somewhat sympatheticlook. “I want you to listen to me carefully, Pup.Whatever you thinkyou’re feeling, whatever is going on in that brain of yours, it needsto stop.”

“Howdo youknow what’s going on in my-”

“I’mnot an idiot,Karn,” the horseman spits, “I’ve seen the way you look at thathuman. How your gazes always linger just a little toolong. Well, it ends today. I’m sorry.”

Themaker’s brow knits together and he tries to shift the heavy weightthat’s settling itself over his heart.

“Idon’t know if I can just….stop,” he whines.

“You’regoing to haveto,” Death replies in a clipped tone. Then, more softly, “There’sno life for a human here,” he rumbles, “you cannot be a tie thatbindsY/n to this realm. If you tell that little human that you’re in love,do you know what’ll happen? Y/n will feel tornbetween staying in the Forge Lands, for you, and returning to Earth,to home.There’s a heart in that chest that’s too large for it’s own good. Aheart that’ll breakif Y/n has to choose between staying here and going home. I won’t letyou hurt my friend like that, Karn, I simply won’t.”

Karnshakes his head rapidly, drilling into Death with imploring eyes.“I’d neverwant that! I’d never hurt-”

“Thenkeep your feelings to yourself.”The horseman’s hiss lacks any real heat, he just sounds tired. Butwhether Death is trying to be cruel or not, Karn’s heart ruptures allthe same.

Asigh pulls the maker’s attention back to the being in front of thedoor. “Come now, Karn,” Death murmurs, “it wouldn’t work outanyway. I don’t think you’re Y/n’s type.” With that said, he turnsand ambles towards the entrance to the Maker’s Forge, pulling itopen, he casts Karn a guilty glance before letting the doors fallshut in his wake.

Quietsettles over the forge once more. Not even the gentle tumble of waterthat runs through the Tri Stone, nor the faint clangs of metal onwood where Thane bullies some poor training dummy could puncturethrough the ringing in Karn’s ears.

It’sa well known fact that Makers can’t cry. Or if they can, nobody hasever been around to witness the event. 

Theyoungest of the makers touches a tentative hand to his cheek andpulls it away, inspecting the fingertips to find a strange wetnesscoating his leather gloves. They’re not tears though, no. Thatwould be outrageous. Who’d ever heard of a maker that cries?

No.The wetness is just from the sweat that trickled down from hisforehead during Death’s interrogation.

Angrily,Karn scrubs at his face whilst slumping heavily against the low wallat his back. With a gentleness he’d only recently discovered he wascapable of, the maker reaches into the satchel at his side and fishessomething out of it. He brings his fist up to eye level and unfurlshis fingers, slowly. A dull ache begins to throb in his throat whenhe sees the sorry state the flowers are in. 

He’d handled them tooroughly. 

Petals of vivd blue lay scattered and crumpled in his hand.Others are yellow with red tipped edges, vaguely resembling Earth’sroses. The stems that he’d haphazardly snapped off in his eagerness topresent them to you, are twisted and limp and half-crushed from beingstuffed into a bag. Karn’s lips twist into a disgruntled sneer as heglares down at the flowers in his hand.

’That’sjust what you do, isn’t it?’he berates himself mercilessly. ’Youruinthings. You ruined these flowers. You’d’ve ruined your chance to savethe realm, were it not for the horseman.’He takes a shuddering breath and clenches his fist tightly over thedelicate petals. ’Andthat’s what you’d do to Y/n….’

'Thehorseman’s right. You hurt people.’

Finally,Karn turns his hand over and allows the small, ruined flowers tofloat down, out of his hand. He watches them fall for a time, thenturns and slowly trundles towards the gate leading out into the Vale.He passes Thane, barely registering the older maker’s curious grunt.In reply, Karn presses his lips into a thin line, meeting thewarrior’s gaze with a small shake of his head. Thane’s own lips curlawkwardly, unsure of how to offer consolation. But Karn doesn’t wantit.

Hejust wants to be alone.

Alone, asusual.

[nigeiadigitalmarketingcompany]

Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

Digital Elixir Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

  “It’s too late baby Now it’s too late” –Carole King

  Politics is show business for ugly people. And you’ve got to play by show business rules.

Show business is all about preparation, getting the act, song, movie, TV show, ready and then marketing it so people will be aware of it and buy it.

And you always want to be first, and you want to eliminate all chance.

You want an upward curve, even if you start low and slow.

You want no lulls. You want to keep people interested, by teasing them with new information on a regular basis.

You want to control the narrative.

And what is the narrative the Democrats are trying to sell?

Damned if I know. The only thing they can agree on is they hate Trump. I hate KISS, but that doesn’t keep them off the road, playing to empty arenas, their fans support them. And speaking of KISS, Gene Simmons is one of the greatest marketers of all time, a complete blowhard, but he’s making it work for himself and the band. Maybe he learned it all from Neil Bogart, who changed his name from “Bogatz,” to give the right “impression.” Bogart failed on his first attempt, trying to sell a record of Johnny Carson routines, it went instantly into the cut-out bin, but then he pivoted to disco and Donna Summer and KISS.

And Bogart was a showman, full of crap. Seemingly everything he said was inflated and wrong. Remember when there were four simultaneous KISS solo albums and Neil said they were instantly gold? The press bought it, even though all of them but Peter Criss’s came back.

You see it’s all about perception. Sell the myth, not the facts.

It’s more important that Elizabeth Warren be seen as a fighter against the man than any specific policy position. People don’t go that deep. CONGRESS doesn’t go that deep! Did you read the “New Yorker” story on Al Franken? His accuser told boldfaced lies, there was history disputing her account, but she got out there first and what she said ruled, even though she was working for a pro-Trump radio station. Once again, the Democrats reacted, and now they’re doubling-down, can’t see why they were wrong. Kirsten Gillibrand, YOU’RE HISTORY!

The press said Trump was losing because he brought up the “i” word before the Democrats. But Trump knows you get ahead of the blowback, you make the first punch, and you load the media with so much b.s. that it can’t keep up.

Meanwhile, the public doesn’t know the difference between impeachment and conviction and Pelosi seems as old as she really is. She’s Perry Como after the Beatles. Doesn’t she realize THE RULES HAVE CHANGED?

Happens in entertainment all the time. Suddenly you can’t sell hair bands. Suddenly hip-hop is burgeoning. And if you fight the tide, you drown. Oh, little fish can still swim in their own private backwaters, but if you’re playing for everything, if you want to run the table, you’ve got to be looking to the future, not the past!

Trump speaks to the public. Pelosi speaks to insiders.

That’s why AOC gets so much traction, she speaks to the public-at-large, it’s less about legislation than attitude, which is move over you old farts and let the younger generation take the reins, you oldsters have no idea what is going on anymore!

But Team Pelosi says you’ve got to run to the center, because you’ve got to appeal to those districts that flipped for Democrats in 2016. That’s like making Aerosmith play acoustic, and refusing to let them play new material.

Of course, Aerosmith doesn’t play new material, and Chris Christie is a big Boss fan. It’s kinda like long hair. Once upon a time it symbolized something, you were either for us or against us, then it was just a fashion choice.

Anyone who plays to the rearguard is always disrupted. Didn’t you ever read Clayton Christensen? Everybody pooh-poohs the new, saying it’s not as good as the old, and then it becomes better and the old folds overnight. Christensen says to embrace the new, and then eliminate the old when the new gains traction. The DNC is being disrupted and their answer? Let’s go back to Good Ol’ Joe. That’s like asking your grandfather for music advice.

So what we’ve got is candidates who want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and the Democrats are freaking out, they can’t even get aligned on one position. Criticize the Republicans all you want, but after Trump they all got in line. That’s how you win, when you play like a team!

And if you try to appeal to everybody, you lose. The road is littered with middle of the road artists, who fail on the chart and play to a dwindling audience in Branson and clubs. You want to get people EXCITED! That’s what Warren and Harris and Bernie and Buttigieg are doing.

And what does the establishment say?

THEY’RE TOO FAR LEFT!

AC/DC was too heavy until suddenly they weren’t. “Back In Black” is still streaming prodigiously today, “You Shook Me All Night Long” is an American anthem! Of course Mutt Lange helped. The right has Karl Rove, who do we have on the left?

So the reason you wanted impeachment is so the whole world would watch, so Trump’s bad behavior, criminal or not, would infect the public. When the truth outs, it’s hard to deny.

But no, it was never time. Pelosi and her pals are like a Silicon Valley outfit that never releases its product. It’s so busy getting it right that it can never come out. Meanwhile, Facebook becomes so big by having a motto of “move fast and break things.” Forget that Zuckerberg is the enemy now, he’s on top of the pyramid, he controls the conversation more than not only Congress, but the mainstream media! Furthermore, he just pivoted, saying it was about private conversations, when the Democrats are still looking for that elusive consensus. Everything worth paying attention to starts off the radar, small, and then it blows up and BECOMES THE MAINSTREAM!

So Barr says Trump is innocent.

The Dems folded their tent.

Then Mueller sends his letter and they think…wow, maybe there’s something here. Like a band the label has stopped working that is suddenly selling tickets…the label is on to something else, it’s hard to get it restarted on your old product.

And then the Democrats placed all their hopes on Mueller testifying. That’s like taking someone with a great record, who’s never been on stage, and having them headline Coachella! No one would do that, the odds of failure are too high.

So Mueller didn’t deliver. Oh, don’t make it about Russia, the Dems thought Mueller was gonna blow a hole through the curtain, reveal that Trump was culpable and should be charged. Not only did Mueller not do this, he said as much after he delivered his report earlier…this was his final statement!

And the Dems are playing by old rules and crying to the nonexistent refs that the Republicans are cheating. No, Trump and his posse have invented new rules, like no one in the regime needs to testify. When they up the ante, so do you! You don’t say there’s no crying in baseball!

So now, on left wing radio, all the talk is about getting the transcripts from the grand jury. God, even in the NFL when you lose, you lose, no matter how heinous the call. Because without rules, you’ve got no game.

And that’s what’s happening now, WE’VE GOT NO GAME! Trump and his cronies are running ragged and the Dems and the media are so flummoxed, they do NOTHING!

Come on. Even the most lame influencer knows you’ve got to deliver product on a regular basis. You’ve got to hook the audience and deliver. That’s certainly what Trump has done, and all the left keeps saying is HE SHOULDN’T TWEET!

Meanwhile, these same wankers are posting to Instagram, the national pastime, and despite their constant disparagement of the internet and Twitter, Twitter is where the news happens, and if you’re not on it, you don’t know what’s going on.

So impeachment failed in the marketplace. It’s like Annapurna, Megan Ellison’s movie company. No matter how great the film, and she’s put out plenty, they never reach expectations. “Booksmart,” one of the best-reviewed movies this year, which appeals to oldsters and youngsters…dead. Product is only one part of the puzzle, you need the aforementioned marketing. The big studios may put out lame films, but they’re experts in marketing them.

When you fail, you write it off. Just look at the Fortune 500, that’s what they do. Did Bezos try to improve the Fire phone? No, he deleted it from the catalog. And today, your mistakes don’t haunt you as long as you continue to play and make noise. Once again, the game has changed, there’s so much noise that the biggest challenge is just reaching the public. And if you don’t, people forget what you were selling, they’re inundated with new messages.

And I’ve used a plethora of metaphors here, but now I’m gonna use one more. Pro football used to be a running game. Now running backs make a fraction of what they used to, all the emphasis is on passing and receiving! You change with the times!

Seems like everybody can change with the times but the Democrats.

So forget impeachment. This is the gang that can’t shoot straight, even if they have clear evidence that Trump needs to go, the right will spin it otherwise and rule the marketplace, i.e. public opinion. And just like a record, you don’t have to appeal to everybody to win. How come Trump knows this and the Democrats don’t?

Instead of clinging to the past, trying to rebuild the old edifice, it’s time to build a new one. And there are a number of candidates promising this. Safe rarely succeeds. Can you say Romney? Can you say Kerry! One of the reasons Obama won was because he HAD little history. There was little to nail him on and he promised hope.

Believe me, Ol’ Joe is not promising hope. He’s like a boomer musician waiting for Hilary Rosen to save them from streaming. But Hilary’s moved on from the RIAA, and streaming has already won, soon there won’t even be any hardware to play discs! Apple kills the iPod because the innards are no longer manufactured, and the Democrats keep trying to prop up oldsters, held together by baling wire. Bill Clinton had Linda Bloodworth-Thomason and her husband selling him, and despite baggage, he won anyway!

Who do the Democrats have?

Maybe it’s time to hire Bill Belichick.

Oh, that’s right, HE’S A TRUMPER!

  ~~~

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    Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

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[noticulous]

Drinking Night

Bucky Barnes One Shot

Drinking Night with the Avengers is a monthly occurrence with a theme, full of mishaps and comedy. But as the night progresses and the numbers slowly dwindle down just to you and the brooding Bucky Barnes, things get take a turn to intensity.

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TAKING REQUESTS

The first Saturday night of each month was dedicated to Drinking Night in the Avengers Tour. Every month had a theme. October was the obvious Halloween theme. Steve went as Batman, Tony went as Steve and Thor wore a onesie. But with it being December, you'd all agreed on a winter theme and had a competition to see who could wear the most layers. For this reason, you held Drinking Night outside on one of the larger balconies that harboured a pool and several expansive sofas which you were all currently lounged across.

The night was cold and frosty, but you were wearing three coats, five scarfs and four pairs of pants- not including tights. Sam won the competition by declaring that each of his twenty-two hats counted as a layer, even Clint's bedrock of gloves couldn't compete.

So, as the rule goes, he got to decide on the game you were going to play.

"I must say.." The now hatless man declared with a hiccup. "I haven't won a competition on Drinking Night since October when I dressed up as Natasha." A roar of applause went up as you all pictured the outrageousness of his costume, a wink was sent Nat's way as Sam swayed a little, the bottle of amber liquid in his hand betraying his pretence of sobriety.

"You know what?" He yelled, rising from his seat and standing on the glass table as Tony whipped at his ankles. "Let's make this shit old school." He hummed, his voice smooth like honey. Then without warning, he chugged the last of the liquid in his bottle and slammed it down on the table, Tony wincing. "Truth or Dare!" Sam whooped, clapping his hands as you all followed suit. Nat sported a smug grin as she eyed you up, you returned her mirth and soon enveloped yourself in the game, thinking up questions and dares for your fellow team mates. After Sam went over the rules and explained the basics of the game to a confused Thor, the bottle was sent spinning as you all sat and watched it with bated breath.

"Like an arrow straight out of heaven, it's on you Clint!" Sam cheered, slapping his knees excitedly. One last spin set the decider for the Dare-r, and landed on an infinitely smug looking Tony.

"Oh, this ought to be entertaining." You chuckled, nudging Wanda to your right who joined in on your snickering. Tony rose solemnly from his spot on the sofa and stared at Clint as if he was the only one in the room, or rather, on the balcony.

"Clint.." He whispered, drawing out the "i" and snapping out the "t" at the end, his eyes narrowing as he took his lip between his teeth. "You know, just last night I was wondering how I was gonna get revenge on you for that stunt you pulled last Tuesday. Good job I've had some forethought." Tony mused, rubbing his stubble with an aura of thoughtfulness as he studiously assessed the grumbling archer sat below him.

"So.." He hummed, crouching down to meet Clint's eye. "What'll it be? Truth, or Dare?"

Clint huffed and stood up, Tony following suit and perching on his toes to remain level, appearing allthewhile nonchalant.

"Archer, father, most handsome Avenger- yes. But wimp? No." Clint spat, "Dare me."

Everyone on the sofa's oo'ed and revelled in Tony's cocky exuberance. "I dare.. you.." Tony began, turning his back on the unintimidated Clint as he began to pace a few footsteps ahead of him, drawing his words out slowly.

"I dare you to-"

"To spit it out!" Sam interrupted, earning a scowl from Tony who appeared rather caught of guard.

"Fine." He glared, "I dare you to let Natasha give you a tattoo."

"What?!" Clint sputtered, hating every ounce of Natasha's smugness, she stood, immediately ready and discarding her gloves.

"Let's dance." She laughed, taking him by the collar.

The final product was a small wrist tattoo written in some foreign language, something about Budapest. You were all infinitely disappointed so Tony got Thor to place Mjilnor on his chest as he tattooed "Team Iron Man" across his left arm. Clint chased Tony across the compound for the remainder of the night. Wanda got the whole thing on tape, for next time.

Steve was next dared to list off all the curse words he knew and to deliver them in a rant aimed at Bucky, which was absolutely hilarious to watch. Thor was dared to down a 2 litre bottle of Hennessy's, which he seemed unfazed about as you all watched with a mingled feeling of impress and horror.

Nat was later dared to give you a lap-dance. Needless to say, by the end of it, everyone had grown a little hot and heavy. A few, if not most, of the guys were exchanging flustered looks as you, Nat and Wanda laughed away, drinking in the atmosphere of testosterone and booze. From that point on the night grew progressively steamier. Wanda and Vision had wondered off somewhere, Sam had passed out and Thor had been tasked with damage control between Tony and Clint. That left Nat, Steve, Bucky and you. You all exchanged lopsided, drunken smiles.

You were growing tired of the childishness of Truth and Dare, expressing the sentiment as such and earning a scowl from Nat.

"When then you have to accept a dare." She declared, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, toppling a few of your hats off. During the lap-dance Nat had removed most of her winter clothes, but you were still looking very much so like a native Antarctican.

You shrugged and nodded, it was getting quite late and the drama had subsided. Why not?

"Striptease." Nat delivered with one of her trademark smirks. Your jaw dropped and you looked at her incredulously, "You can't be serious?"

She cocked a brow at you and blinked, holding her ever-piercing gaze. "So I can give you a lap dance but you can't even peel off a few layers for me?" She probed, flicking off your last cap with a wink. There was a finality to the action, as if it was a challenge she knew you couldn't back down from. So you nodded and scrunched up your lips. "Well if I'm gonna do this I want some music, and I want a body." You declared, rising and not feeling sexy at all in your Eskimo-do.

Steve and Bucky laughed nervously, both nudging each other. Nat watched them both with her keen eye and seemed to pick something up between the pair of them as she was soon pushing Bucky up to sit on the chair you'd set up for your "body."

He looked borderline terrified sat in that chair and staring up at you. For a moment, you almost felt apologetic. Until you remembered who you were underneath all those layers, and you looked damn good. And damn it, you'd fantasised enough about standing in front of Bucky in your underwear. So if it was ever gonna happen, it was gonna happen to a bit of R Kelly and it was gonna happen now.

The base kicked in and you let the rhythm to the familiar song take over. Steve and Nat cheered and jibed at you as you began to move to the rhythm, exaggeratedly putting on a show of sexiness as you lowered your snow hood, eyeing up Bucky. "You're mine, metal man." You purred as he flashed you a smile. Your heart was sent into overdrive, the sight of him sat there and watching your every move igniting a passion within you that hadn't felt in a long time.

Once you'd removed the excess of layers, the humour of the dance went with them and dropped to the floor, part of the heap of clothes, completely forgotten.

You stood before the small crowd, focusing only on Bucky as he focused on you, a tank top and thin leggings the only thing between you and almost-complete nudity. You could sense his anticipation, the veins in his neck pulsing that bit quicker, his knuckles whitening as he held onto the sides of the chair. And his eyes, surveying your every curve, every inch of movement, he drank it all in. You didn't know when Nat and Steve had left, but the next moment you looked up from Bucky's gaze they were nowhere to be seen. And you and Bucky were completely alone.

You bent and peeled your leggings down, allowing him a perfect shot of your cleavage as you held eye contact with him, watching his eyes rove and then roll back in agonising pleasure. You hadn't even touched him, but watching him like this made your chest puff with pride. He was yours.

You teased him by lowering your fingertips to the fringe of your shirt, pulling it up then letting it snap back down. Pulling it an inch and then letting it fall, as Bucky grew excruciatingly impatient. His eyes were blown wide and in his head he was ravaging you over and over and over, and every time you let that top slip back down he felt himself be driven mad with the most carnal lust. So to be rewarded for his patience by having Sam wake up and interrupt you made him literally roar with anger and punch him square in the face, knocking him back unconscious.

You watched the whole event with your mouth hung open wide in shock, so when he turned back to you, knuckles bloodied and eyes wild you couldn't help but whimper.

"I've waited long enough for this." He growled, taking you by the waist and ripping the thin material of your shirt from your body.

"Now you better make it up to me."

[littlebitofeverythingphff]

Chapter 9

A/N: I apologize for not updating as regularly so to make up for it here is another loooong chapter! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Would love to hear from my readers so send me anything you want!

Pulling out the eggs from the fridge he set them on the counter. Remembering where Adalyn had kept her pots and pans he set on one the stove. All of a sudden he heard the doorknob to the front door turn. 

Harry froze. Adalyn said her roommate was gone for a couple days. The door flew open revealing a woman carrying in some luggage through the entrance. Searching for a quick place to hide Harry knew that there was nowhere to go.

The woman looked up at him dropping her bags letting out a squeal of surprise. “HOLY SHIT!!!” Ainsley screamed loud enough to wake up Adalyn. Harry flashed a grin and smiled at her. “Hello.” His posh voice sounded out.

“PRINCE FUCKING HARRY IS IN MY FUCKING KITCHEN HALF NAKED!?!” Ainsley yelled again shocked. Closing her eyes she opened them again seeing the ginger haired prince still standing there. He was not a pigment of her imagination.

Harry turned hearing footsteps coming loudly from Adalyn’s room. Glancing back at Adalyn he gave her a pleading look, not knowing what to say. Adalyn looked half asleep still, confused at what was going on.

“Adalyn?!” Ainsley spoke up. Stepping forward closer to Harry she saw her roommate nearly white as a ghost clearly shocked at who was in her kitchen. “I told you to put a shirt on…” she whispered to Harry before glancing up at him with a worried expression. 

Exchanging glances, they both knew that they were caught.

Harry could see the worry in Adalyn’s eyes as she watched her roommate sitting patiently on the sofa. Biting down on her bottom lip she tugged at his hands interlocking them in a tight embrace attempting to draw some sort of comfort from his touch.

Sensing Harry leaning down towards her, she felt his lips press up against her forehead kissing it gently. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by Ainsley. Closing her eyes at his touch she took a step closer to the prince.

“What do I tell her Harry?” Adalyn whispered in the space between them. Seeing her head lift he locked in her green eyes. Breathing out he spoke, “she’s your friend Adalyn. You can tell her what you want. Trust her with whatever information you think she needs to know.”  His smile proved to be reassuring and encouraging all in one.

Adalyn wrapped her arms around Harry squeezing him hard. His arms engulfed her, pulling her further into his body. “And Afghanistan?” Adalyn spoke quietly into his ear. She could feel Harry taking in a deep sigh as her arms loosened around him. “Not yet…” his reply was deep and regretful.

Harry kept holding Adalyn in his arms for a moment remembering all that had happened the night prior. Smiling he shook his head at her with a slight giggle releasing from his pursed lips. “What?” Adalyn smiled up at him, her green eyes lighting up from hearing his laugh.

“I desperately want to kiss you again right now. But… I know I can’t.” He confessed, his gaze diverting to the woman glaring at him from the adjacent room. “I think it’s best that I go… leave you two to talk.”

His arms fell from her body bending down to grab his bag. “I will call you later.” Adalyn nodded slowly wishing he would stay. Deep down she knew it would be best if she talked with Ainsley alone. Reaching for the doorknob she opened the door allowing Harry to step through. Taking one last glance at the prince she smiled warmly at him receiving a wink in return. “Bye Harry” she waved watching his frame disappear down the corridor.

Closing the door behind her Adalyn leant her body back against it. Taking a minute she gathered her thoughts. “Addy! I know you are stalling, get your arse in here!” Ainsley called from the next room.

Creeping out from behind the corner Adalyn slowly made her way to her feeling Ainsley analyzing her every move. Sitting down in a chair across from her she avoided Ainsley’s gaze, unsure of how to start this conversation.

“Ok well I obviously have a few questions if you aren’t going to explain why there was a half naked prince in my kitchen….” Adalyn shifted nervously. It was best if she just came out and said it all rather then answering question after question.

“Ok let me explain please.” Her quiet voice grew a little louder. Sighing she glanced up at Ainsley. “Do you remember Lindsie’s birthday dinner?” Ainsley nodded giving her a narrowed stare. “Well I ran into Harry there...briefly.” Adalyn locked eyes with Ainsley, “then again when he came to the museum for a visit…” she trailed off.

Sitting patiently, Ainsley listened to Adalyn explain how they spent more time at the polo game and ending up becoming friends. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with the Prince Harry?” Ainsley gestured wildly with her hands.

“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from you. When I hung out with him it made me feel better, a distraction from everything that was falling apart in my world.” Adalyn fidgeted in her seat trying to find the words to explain further. “Last night was a rollercoaster. You were supposed to be gone for a few days so I told him to come over. When he first asked for my number I was hesitant, not wanting to jump into anything after what had happened with Jake. But, as I spent more and more time with him things sort of changed how I felt about him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I missed him each day we couldn’t talk and I hated saying goodbye to him.” Breathing out deeply Adalyn averted her gaze from Ainsley’s eyes that bore into her.

“We talked last night and I told him how I feel about him. We both want the same thing; we want to see where this is going between us. It’s all new and I don’t know if I am rushing into it, but there is one thing I am certain of and that is I truly do like Harry. When I am with him, my heart no longer feels like it’s tearing apart.” A smile appeared on her lips as she glanced at Ainsley.

Ainsley had suspected something had been going on in the past weeks. Adalyn seemed to be in a better mood, smiling more often and overall happy. What she had not expected was Adalyn to be involved with Prince Harry. She had always respected the British Monarchy, but never once wanted their life of public scrutiny. Concerns for her friend kept popping into her mind and she needed to voice them. After all Addy had been through was dating a prince really what she needed?

“Listen Addy. I think it’s great that you have someone in your life again, you deserve it more than anyone. I just don’t know if Harry is the best person to be in a relationship with. His life is splashed on every magazine and newspaper, he’s a prince that has to act a certain way and is on constant scrutiny. I think you need to really think about it before getting involved with him. Once you two are exposed there is no going back.” Ainsley spoke with an edge of concern for her friend.

Adalyn appreciated her friend’s valid concerns; the same warnings that Harry had spoken about last night came back into play. “I know Ainsley. Harry isn’t rushing me, he has warned about how it would be to date him. I don’t know what is going to happen in the future, but I do know that I want to be with him and I am going to need you to support it since you are the only one who knows.” 

Ainsley nodded her head in understanding. Of course she would support her best friend. “I can’t see you get hurt again Addy. I cannot see how you were, a shell of a person again. So if he does… no one will be able to stop me from hurting him too.” She laughed out loudly causing a chain reaction in Adalyn.

“Come here Addy” Ainsley stood pulling her into a friendly hug. “You do know that I need to officially approve of this right?” Adalyn shook her head stepping back from her hug. “Fine. I will tell him you want to talk.” Instantly regretting those words Adalyn cringed inside knowing how protective Ainsley was of her.

“Hey! You know what this is all your fault; why did you come home early from your parents?” Adalyn turned the tables on Ainsley. “What do you think happened? My mother got on my nerves… again. All her talk of marriage and kids made my head spin.”

 Ainsley opened the door wide revealing Harry standing in the doorway. “Come on in…” Harry smiled politely at her as he stepped through the door. “I will go tell Addy you are here.” Nodding Harry waited patiently at the door watching her body disappear behind the corner. It had only been a day since he had seen Adalyn and was already craving to be in her presence once again. Harry had called her last evening asking her out on their first official date. 

“Your ginger boy toy is here Addy!” Ainsley yelled loud enough for Harry to hear.  Walking into Adalyn’s room she stopped in her tracks. “Wow you look amazing!” Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks Adalyn glanced down at her dress. “Do you think it looks alright? Honestly?” She turned slightly, giving Ainsley a better look.

“Does it look alright? Damn Addy, Harry won’t know what hit him once he sees you in this!” Harry had kept the details of their official first date a secret, not giving her any clues as to what they were going to be doing.

Harry was leaning up against the wall tapping his foot in a rhythm as he waited nervously. That was when he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. The corner of his lips turned up into a shocked smile taking in the view he bore witness to.

Adalyn walked slowly towards him in a navy dress that exposed one of her shoulders, just enough skin to make Harry curious as to what was under that dress of hers. Her hair was done simply yet held a look of elegance. His eyes trailed down towards her long toned legs leading them to a classy set of silver heels.

Roving over her body his eyes lifted to catch hers. He was speechless. “Harry….” His name fell off of her lips. “Adalyn… you look gorgeous.” Watching her cheeks blush a crimson red at the way Harry’s eyes stayed stagnant on her body clearing checking her out.

“Where are we going?” Adalyn tried one last time to get a hint of the nights events. Harry eyed her suspiciously. “Nooo. It’s a secret. But, you may definitely want a jacket.” Holding out Adalyn’s leather jacket he helped her put it on. Ainsley watched the simple gesture with a smile. “Ready?” Harry asked reaching for the door. “Yes I think so.” Adalyn looked around taking one last look, ensuring she had everything she needed.

“Get her home safely and in one piece Harry got it?” Harry looked up briefly receiving a knowing look from Ainsley. “Yes Ainsley. I promise to take good care of her.” The weight of his words were heavy as he locked eyes with Ainsley. Knowing how protective she was of her friend, Harry wanted to reassure her.

Adalyn saw the gates of Kensington Palace down the road. Looking to the man beside her he tugged on his hand to get his attention. “We are going to Kensington?”

Harry could not wait to show her what he had planned for them. “Wait and see.”  Were the only words he spoke. Seeing her frustration displayed on her face caused him to smirk at her. He brought her hand to his lips kissing it gently. “It will be worth the wait. I promise.”

Opening Adalyn’s door he assisted her in getting out of the vehicle. Immediately finding her hands by his side he walked her into the direction of the gardens. Glancing up at the tree aligned path ahead she saw a glimmer of lights in the distance. “Where are we going?” Adalyn leaned in placing an arm on his shoulder.

Harry smiled widely in silence shaking his head no. His hand squeezed hers before looking down at her happy smile. “Impatient woman…It’s up ahead a little ways.” As the light covered path became closer Adalyn realized the uneven trail was aligned in candled lighting guiding them to their destination.

Taking in the view she glanced up at the night sky, a sky full of stars shining brightly over them. Hearing the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet she committed this moment to memory. The simple moment of being hand in hand with Harry. She could feel her heart beating faster, excited and curious as to what he had planned for them.

“How was the talk with Ainsley? You didn’t mention it last night.” Harry glanced down at her seeing a smile appear on her lips. Leaning in she rested her head on his shoulder finding a comfortable spot as they walked slowly down the lightened path. Sensing her taking a breath, Harry waited for her reply in silence. “It went well. I told her most of everything that had happened between us and how I felt about you…” becoming shy Adalyn trailed off into a whisper.

“How you feel about me huh?” Harry wanted to hear more of that part. Smirking up at him, her eyes shone bright. “Yes… how much I like you Harry!” Adalyn chuckled lightly, tossing her head back. “Good. Because I was thinking you only liked me due to my ginger hair. But wow! Now that’s such a relief. Seriously you have no idea how hard it is to be a sexy ginger these days. Everyone just wants a piece of it!” Adalyn continued laughing at his words almost to the point of tears starting to form in her eyes. Harry giggled beside her, Adalyn’s laugh too contagious to not join in.

Catching their breath Adalyn sighed. “She wants to talk with you Harry. I know you are busy with getting ready to leave and everything and I know I am asking you to do one more thing but….” Adalyn went off on a tangent trying to put out all the information so Harry would agree to it.

His footsteps slowed to a stopped; he let go of her hand to turn and face her. “Addy…” his hand reached up to cup her cheek. “I will do it. You don’t need to try and convince me too alright?” Feeling his thumb smooth over her cheek she nodded. “If it makes things easier for you while I am gone, I will do anything ok?” Harry reassured her again. He knew how hard it could be for Adalyn and if Harry had the chance to make their time apart easier with support from Ainsley, Harry was happy and willing to sit through an interrogation.

Relief washed through her as her anxious breath slowed. “Thank you Harry.” His hand was covered by hers feeling her fingers clench tightly around his bringing his hand back down at her side. 

They continued down the candle lit path following it into the Kensington Gardens. Adalyn’s eyes had stayed steady on the ground as they walked, occasionally glancing and their entwined fingers. She lifted her head to catch Harry’s smiling blue eyes staring ahead. Her breath was taken away at the sight that was set before her. 

Under a big tree there was a blue plaid picnic blanket covering the grass beneath. A big brown woven picnic basket sat in the middle indicating that they were having a picnic meal. Adalyn stood there quietly in shock. “Harry... this is.” Searching for the proper words to describe.

“I hope you like it.” Adalyn could see a glimpse of the shyer side of the prince come out. Tugging on his hand she caught his deep blue eyes. “Harry this is amazing. I have never had a picnic date before and this is so beautiful. I am still in shock. No one has ever done something like this for me.”

Within a second his lips came crashing down on her pulling them into a deep kiss. “It was worth all the effort to see you smile like this.” Harry whispered as he broke apart from her lips. Nodding she closed her eyes. “Mmmhmmm.” She hummed a reply feeling his soft lips pressed up against her forehead as she turned her attention back to the picnic setting. 

“Let’s see what’s in the basket!” Adalyn led Harry down to the blanket, settling in beside her. Opening the picnic basket, Harry pulled out two place settings and wine glasses. Handing Adalyn a bottle of white wine she filled their glasses. “Trying to get me drunk Adalyn? Wanting to take advantage of me?” Harry barked a laugh seeing how full the glasses were. 

“Noo!” Protesting loudly Adalyn smiled widely glancing at the prince suggestively only causing Harry’s laugh to grow loud. “So I really hoped you didn’t make sandwiches for us or popcorn!” Harry froze and gave her a cold glare narrowing his eyes at her only to morph into a cheeky grin. “Oh come on! That was one time!”

“I will have you know that I spent the morning with the head chef here to make this for you.” Harry pulled out a fresh bread roll; a container of a spinach and strawberry salad tossed with sesame seeds and homemade dressing and shaved roasted chicken and fixings for sandwiches. “You made all of this?” Harry nodded proudly staring at the food displayed out in front of him. “With a little help of course. I know it’s simple, but I hope you will enjoy it.” His proud smile stayed stagnant on his lips as he looked to Adalyn.

Leaning down she took a sniff of the aroma the food dissipated. “Mmmmm. I think this will be amazing Harry. Knowing you did this all for me is making me feel quite special honestly.” Adalyn beamed a smile at him; grateful for all of his effort he had done for her so far. Truth was she had no idea what to expect out of tonight, but her expectations were beyond exceeded. 

Having eaten the majority of the food Harry had made, Adalyn could feel her full tummy satisfied with the meal. “I am so full. I ate so much!” A light giggle escaped her lips as her head tilted in Harry’s direction. “I honestly had no idea a woman could eat that much food in one sitting…” Harry shook his head in disbelief before offering her a quick wink for his teasing. 

“Harry! I did not eat that much!” He earned a playful smack on his arm for his comments. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder Harry shifted Adalyn closer to him. Pressing his lips against her flesh exposed shoulder he inhaled her sweet fragrance.

A comfortable silence fell between them, each being deep thought into the depths of their mind. Adalyn had a multitude of questions for Harry about his deployment but did not want to ruin their night at the thought of him having to leave so soon. Harry wrapped his arms around her a little tighter in hopes of not ever wanting Adalyn to leave them knowing that all to soon moments like this would cease to exist for a whiles time.

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?” His deep voice forced her to bury her thoughts. “Nothing in particular…” Adalyn became shy; her words were spoken in a quiet whisper. “Tell me.” Harry encouraged her, wanting Adalyn to not shy away from him.

Sighing a deep breath she reached for his fingers, playing with them as they interlocked in a tight grip. “I don’t want to ruin tonight.” Her confessing words hit him hard, now knowing what plagued her thoughts. Harry knew they would need to talk more about it, but he did agree with her. Right now wasn’t the right time to do so.

Standing to his feet he stretched out his arm offering her a hand to get up off the blanket. “Come with me. I have something else to show you.” Gripping his hand Harry pulled her to her feet. “Aren’t you just full of surprises tonight your highness.” A giggling Adalyn followed into step beside him earning a knowing look at what she had called him.

He led Adalyn around the willow tree and down through the gardens. “This garden is so pretty. Do you come here a lot?” Adalyn walked hand in hand with Harry as they strolled through the path amongst the luscious colorful garden. “Not as much as I would like to admittedly. My fathers residence in Gloucestershire is covered in flowers and gardens, I think you would like it there.”

“My step mom is quite religious in keeping up her yard. They always have beautiful flowers and bushes everywhere. She says it’s calming for her, but mainly helps her clear her mind at the end of a work day.” Harry had never asked her before about her family and didn’t know she had a stepmother. Intrigued he longed to know more about Adalyn.

“Sounds like she would enjoy my fathers company. He can talk your ear off about his farms and gardens.” Harry shook his head at a memory of his father. “What’s your favourite flower?”

“Lilies. Definitely lilies.” Glancing down he watched Adalyn’s features soften at the mention. Quickly scanning the garden he spotted a patch full of lilies. “Follow me.” Harry hastened their pace into a slow run, pulling Adalyn along behind him in his heels. 

“Harry!” She questioned him at the sudden movement. Kneeling down he ripped a handful of lilies from the ground. Standing to face Adalyn he offered them to her. “Here…your lilies.”

Adalyn’s eyes brightened up at the gesture. Her smile crept up on her lips. “Do you do this for all your dates? Rip apart your grandmother’s garden?” 

“Do you know how much trouble this will get me into Addy? It’s actually my father who planned this part so if the aides tell him I ripped his flowers up for some girl he would have my arse!” So no. Not for just anyone. But for you, absolutely.” Harry grinned widely at her with a suggestive look. 

Bringing the flowers to her nose, she sniffed them, breathing in their fresh scent. “They’re beautiful Harry. Thank you.” Standing up on her tippy toes she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek leaving a fiery sensation against his skin.

Leading Adalyn to the end of the gardens she spotted a tree with a hammock attached to it. Harry leapt into the hammock within a split second. “Join me Miss Mackenzie?” He offered his hand once again. She stood there gawking at him in disbelief. “Harry! Why didn’t you just tell me to not wear a dress tonight!?” Adalyn tossed her arms up laughing at him. First he expects her to sit down on a blanket on the ground in a short dress acting like a lady and now he wants her to climb into a hammock without her flashing her knickers at him?

A deep belly laugh sounded in the air coming from the prince. I guess he really didn’t think that one through. “Adalyn.” He pulled her to the edge of the hammock. “You look damn sexy in that dress so there was no way I was going to tell you to change. So hop up in here with me.” 

Shaking her head at him she pulled her heels off tossing them on the ground. “Don’t you dare look cause I am sure you will know the colors of my knickers if you do.” Harry’s eyebrow immediately rose thinking a dirty thought.

Watching her take a deep breath he could see her internally convincing herself that it would be ok. Pressing down on the side she jumped in slowly. Harry felt the hammock swing to the side seeing Adalyn almost half out and most certainly going to fall off onto the ground. His arm reached around her and grabbed her at her body, gripping her ass hard.

Adalyn’s lips released a loud gasp at his touch as her body slammed into his tightly. Her green eyes flashed up to his locking in the depths of his blue eyes. His hand did not move from her. “You alright?” Harry let out a labored breath. The closeness of his body to hers made her mind scrambled, unable to search for a simple reply she nodded.

His arm had wrapped around her body ensuring she was safely inside, tucked in beside him. Sensing his grip loosen she felt his fingers trail down her dress past the navy material. Their eyes never wavered; feeling her breathing become more heavy and uneven at his touch. Harry’s fingers made a path down her thighs before feeling another tight grip just above the back of her knee.

Moaning a hot breath close to his lips she felt him bend her knee to swing her leg over his body. Harry continued his torture running gentle patterns of inanimate objects across her legs. The chemistry between them was driving Adalyn wild. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest making it difficult for her to even breath right or think properly.

Adalyn was putting up a willing fight. She had promised herself earlier in the day to not get herself caught in another situation like this with Harry for one simple reason. Adalyn needed to know that there was more than just this undeniable physical connection between them. He intoxicated her with his lips, his touch, his voice, with everything that was Harry.

Closing her eyes she shut them hard, pressing down on her eyelids. With a shaky voice she spoke. “Not tonight…” Adalyn felt Harry’s fingers leave her leg. Afraid to open her eyes she kept them shut. “Look at me Addy.” His deep enthralling voice called out.

Opening her green orbs she was met with intense sparkling blue eyes glancing at her worriedly. “You alright? What’s wrong Adalyn?” Genuine concern was laced in his voice for her. Wanting to understand her sudden reaction Harry waited for her reply patiently.

Her features became tense, her body felt rigid against him. “I want to take things slow Harry…” Adalyn whispered lowly averting her gaze from his intense stare. A confused expression graced his face. If she had wanted that than why had Adalyn ask him to stay with her the other night? 

“Let me explain. Please.” A pleading voice brought his focus back to the woman in his arms. Taking a few breaths she gathered her thoughts. “I’m afraid Harry.” She let out a breath. “I’m afraid of getting close to you for you to only leave. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, I do. I have thought about it and I want it, I want everything that comes with you, but…” she paused and locked eyes with him. “I know there is this physical chemistry between us and it is amazing… and I always want more from you. But, I feel we need to take a step back before that is all this is. I don’t want this to be chalked up as a rebound for me. I already know that I do not want that as a label for you. Plus, you hardly know me Harry and I want to get to know who you really are, not what the tabloids say who you are.”

Understanding where she was coming from he knew her concerns were valid. There was no doubt a physical connection between them that forced its way between them. Harry cared too much for the woman in his arms for letting this succumb to only be an unhealthy rebound for her and if they continued down this path before he left, he knew it would come true. Feeling Adalyn’s hand cup his cheek he smiled at her. She opened her lips in an attempt to explain better before he placed a finger on them to silence her. “You do not need to explain any more Addy. I understand it, as much as I enjoy making out with you and your enticing lips; we can take things as slow as you want.”

Grabbing her hand he played with her fingers glancing down at them. A cool breeze brushed across them causing Adalyn to shiver a little. Her exposed legs were cool to his touch feeling the goose bumps rise across her skin. “Chirst! Why didn’t you tell me you were cold Adalyn?!”

Harry shimmied out of his jacket covering her legs with it. She felt his hands rubbing across her legs creating some warmth. Adalyn snuggled closer into Harry trying to keep him warm. “You are going to get cold too now….” Shaking her head at Harry trying to be the perfect gentleman.

“Don’t worry. I will send for some blankets. Want anything else?” Adalyn shook her head no. “Only you Harry.” She rested her head on his chest finding a comfortable position. Her body relaxed into him as silence fell between them.

Harry had begun running his fingers through her hair in a gentle motion while his other hand was clasped over her fingers that rested on his chest. “I didn’t know you had a step mom…” 

“Yeah, Rosalyn. She married my dad when I was 12.” Lifting her head off his chest she looked up at Harry with a light giggle. “You know she has been trying to set me up with someone!” Harry’s eyebrow rose suggestively at her. “And?” He questioned her wanting to know more.

Feeling his arms wrap tighter around her in a possessive manner caused Adalyn to fall into a state of laughter. “Don’t worry. None of them are as handsome as you….” She smiled up at him before giving his lips a quick kiss. “Well actually…” Adalyn was hard in thought in a teasing manner earning an eye roll from the prince.

“I bet none of them have done this before…” Harry’s hand rested on her neck angling her lips towards his. Feeling his mouth pressed firmly against hers Adalyn melted into him. Breaking apart, a soft moan escaped her lips only to be captured by the prince’s attack on her lips once again. Adalyn’s mind was in a dazed state; Harry consumed her conscious thoughts. His soft lips dancing with hers, his fingers trailing down her back leaving a fiery sensation in its path, the smell of him, the way he moaned into her lips.

Adalyn reluctantly tore her lips off of his earning a low moan from the prince. A breathless Adalyn spoke. “No. No one has done that.” The prince let out a small giggle before placing his lips against her forehead craving for more, but respecting their earlier conversation. 

They spent the next hour exchanging questions for each other, wanting to learn more about the other person. Harry learned the dynamics of her family and about her brothers wedding in the coming months. Adalyn asked about Sentebale and his favourite places he had been in Africa as he shared the love of the countries he had visited.

“I will take you some time. You would love seeing all the kids. They are always so happy and have nothing.” Harry beamed as he explained what was like in Lesotho. An intently listening Adalyn watched him carefully. Seeing the way his blue eyes sparkled as he talked about Sentebale and the children that called Lesotho a home. She could tell how much it meant to him and how much of an impact he was making in so many lives. Their conversation was just she had needed tonight. Wandering in the tales of their everyday mundane life, but it gave them each a glimpse into who the other was.

Glancing down at his watch he saw it was close to midnight. Releasing a small groan he looked to Adalyn. “I promised I wouldn’t get you back too late tonight Adalyn.” He saw the happy smile fade into a line. Adalyn did not want this night to end, but she knew if she didn’t leave now work in the morning would surely lead to a long exhausting day.

“I don’t want to go…” She pressed her head into the crook of his neck. “If we don’t Ainsley will have my head.” Adalyn tossed her head back letting out a barking laugh at his comment.

Harry jumped out of the hammock first. Turning around he offered his hand helping Adalyn get out next. Handing Harry his jacket she smoothened out her dress and grabbed her heels in her hand. “No shoes?” He looked at her questioningly.

“My feet hurt and I need to wear heels tomorrow so I don’t want to put them on quite yet.” Adalyn smiled at him. “Want a lift then?” Harry pointed to his back for her to jump on. “Yes!” A squealing Adalyn climbed up on Harry.

Securing his arms around her legs Harry began walking back to the vehicles with Adalyn getting a piggyback from the prince. “We need to get you back before midnight or you will turn into a pumpkin.” Harry teased her.

“You do realize that it’s the carriage that turns into a pumpkin not Cinderella herself right Harry?” A giggling Adalyn could not contain her laughter at the prince. “Oh shit. You are right.” Harry fell into laughter with her. “Wait?! That means I would turn into the pumpkin?!”

“Yes Henry.” A giggling Adalyn forced out. Adalyn had yet to call him by that name. He had to admit to himself he liked the way it rolled off her lips internally wishing to hear it again. “Faster pumpkin!” Adalyn reached back and smacked him playfully on the ass.

“Did you just touch my but?” Harry angled his head in attempt look back at her over his shoulder. Adalyn leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Mmmhmm. I sure did. You know it isn’t everyday I can touch a prince’s but without being tackled or sent to the tower of London.”

Harry roared a laugh at her response feeling another peck on his cheek from the woman he carried.  They had followed the candle lit path back down to the range rover. He could feel Adalyn resting her head gently on his back. “Thank you for doing all of this for me Harry.” He could hear her smile through her words. “I wouldn’t have spent the night any other way.”

Breathing in he smiled at her words. It was his hope that she would feel special tonight, that she could see the effort he made for her. “I feel the same way Addy.”

Harry walked up the stairs of Adalyn’s flat hand in hand with her. They slowly walked down the corridor, each not wanting the night to officially end. Reaching Adalyn’s flat she dug through her keys opening the door. Glancing at Harry she asked, “does Luther need to go in first?” Harry nodded a no, earning a narrowed glare from Luther waiting a few paces behind them.

Following Adalyn into her flat he closed the door behind them. Adalyn dropped her purse noticing a lamp light was on in the next room. Hearing footsteps she inwardly groaned as she looked back at Harry.

“Well you kept your promise and brought her back in one piece.” Ainsley leaned up against the wall watching the two of them with wide smiles. “I don’t break promises Ainsley.” Harry responded quickly with a smile.

Adalyn looked to Ainsley trying to express wanting a moment alone with Harry. “Ainsley. Can you give us a little privacy for a minute please.” A smirking Ainsley caught on to what she meant. “Oooh! Yes of course. Kiss each other goodnight. No wandering hands Harry!” She pointed at the prince before rounding the corner.

Adalyn pinched her nose in embarrassment. “I’m sorry” a light laugh escaped her lips. Harry pulled her frame into a tight hug, squeezing her body gently. Her head lifted to meet Harry’s deep blue eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks for taking me home….pumpkin.” Her lips turned up into a cheeky grin. Harry groaned at the name. “I would rather you have said Henry.” He admitted quietly. Leaning down he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Adalyn’s hand reached up around his neck pulling him down further to press his lips harder against hers. 

Not wanting this to end Harry deepened the kiss. Releasing his arm from her frame he stroked her cheek pulling her lips tighter against his. After a few moments a breathless Adalyn gently broke apart before. Taking a quick inhale she took in his lips for one more sweet simple kiss. “You need to get some sleep. You got to work tomorrow.” 

Harry lifted his head back in reluctance. “I will talk to you tomorrow.” Pulling her forehead into him he placed a soft kiss against her skin savoring the moment. Adalyn’s green eyes locked with his as he reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight Henry.”

[vesperlionheart]

Under the Rabbit’s Moon 3

Part1

Sakura slept so long and so deep. Sometimes she slept for days. She was never beyond the point of being able to wake, but if someone didn’t disturb her she could sleep for almost a week at a time, just storing chakra in her seal. Others around her worried at first, but she always seemed stronger after a long rest. The longer the better, so they let her be.

“What do you dream about when you sleep that long?” Aoi the sentry asked her once.

“The beginning of the world, the end of it, and everything in between,” Sakura once answered before sleeping again.

No one asked her any more than that, but kept a reverent distance and respected her slumbering.

Another month after Tobirama and Sakura perked up at the sound beyond her hedge. She could feel a presence out there, and then there was another. She held her breath as she counted two different presences she almost recognized. As adults they had seemed so different, but the core of their essence remained the same.

“Nothing rouses you like the prospect of playing with children, does it?” another midwife asked her as she helped Sakura into a simple cotton yukata. “Why don’t you have you own?”

“Not as enjoyable and too much work. Besides, its more fun to steal others.”

Sakura pulled her hair up into a bun with her nails and pinned it into place with a wooden pick so simple she could have been a present for not the state of her skin and teeth. The bandages on her hands didn’t even slow her down anymore.

Madara and Hashirama were smart enough to work together in trying to dismantle her traps and genjutsu. They came closer than all the others, mostly because when one started to get trapped, the other would wake him and dispel that layer of illusion.

As a duo they were quite formidable. It was interesting to watch. What would have happened if they never broke their friendship? How much stronger could their empire be?

“There’s someone here with us.”

The tiny Madara was dour as he turned slowly and let his red eyes rove, searching for where she was hiding. She didn’t move when he zeroed in on her location and didn’t even bother to hide herself in the layers of the illusion anymore. She smiled wide when he found her and waved.

Madara cursed. “It’s a peasant.”

Hashirama pushed his friend aside and waved back. “Hello miss!”

Madara glared hard, likely not trusting her but not respecting her enough to consider her a threat. She was still a girl and the Uchiha were famous for their woman hating, traditionalism even in her time.

‘Uchiha never change, do they?’

Oh, this could be fun.

“What are you doing here. I don’t see any of your parents,” Sakura started. She smiled simply and tilted her head. “Are you lost?”

“You don’t look much older than either of us,” Madara sneered. “Who do you think you are?”

Hashirama huffed in good humored agitation. “Madara, don’t be a stick about it. She might be able to help.” He turned back to face her and smiled. “I’m Senju Hashirama. I was looking for a friend my brother made.”

Madara’s eyes flashed red in anger and he glared over at her before turning his burning glare onto his friend. “You idiot, she could tell on us now!”

“Tell what?” Sakura set her hands onto her hips. “Are you sneaking out or something without your parents knowing? That’s not such a big deal. Boys your age could get into a lot more trouble than that.”

“We’re not boys, we’re shi-no-bi.”

Madara huffed up, looking cuter than he meant to. It almost made her laugh. She had seen puppies more intimidating. Madara was on the cusp of adolescence. Puberty would be in a couple years, but for now he was still a cute big kid with cheeks round enough to pinch. She wanted to tease him even more.

“Sure, sure,” Sakura cooed, making her voice patronizing on purpose. It was too fun to watch them get worked up. Also, there was the fact that a part of her still hated Madara for getting used and setting into motion the chain of events that led to …that…that led to….

Her brain started to stall and Naruto was in her head, along with Sasuke and behind the stupid pair there was Kakashi reading his damn book. Sai was there too, as well as Yamato. Where were they, where was she?

Sakura turned suddenly, looking for her friends in the bushes between the trees, believing they had been there only seconds ago. She had heard their voices, she had felt them. She knew what it felt like when they were close and she could tell when she wasn’t alone. Sasuke was just being and ass and Naruto wanted to prank her.

‘They’re dead, snap out of it.’

Sakura stilled, staring away. The world came back into focus.

That was funny. It had been so long since she had another panic attack like that. What terrible timing too. She had meant to be having fun teasing the reincarnations that would one day be her teammates. Sasuke and Naruto were still watching her, but they weren’t Sasuke and Naruto. She blinked and they became new people. Madara and Hashirama were staring at her oddly. Hashirama looked worried while Madara looked grossed out.

“You okay, lady?” Hashirama asked first.

“She’s crazy,” Madara hissed in what was supposed to be a whisper to his friend, but came out too loud to be anything but intentionally rude.

“Oh, wow, I almost forgot about my chores. I think I was supposed to be doing laundry, but I lost my basket. I always get lost around these parts,” Sakura laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Silly me.”

“You need help finding your things?” The Senju son looked ready to help, but it was Madara that reached out and pulled Hashiraman back. “Madara?”

“Don’t forget why we’re really here. This wasn’t a joy trip, we actually have work we need to get done. You said so yourself, you need to protect your brothers.” Madara’s eyes went hard. “You know I would do anything to keep my brother safe.”

Hashirama swallowed and nodded. “And me too. I would do anything for my brothers.”

“Keep them safe at any cost?”

“Of course.”

Madara turned his glare towards Sakura once more. “You there, peasant girl, tell us what you know about this area.”

Sakura pointed to herself and made her eyes go wide. “Me? You’re asking me for directions? I’m the worst with those. You’d get lost if I tried to tell you where to go.”

“We don’t want directions, stupid girl.” Madara almost stomped in his frustration. “There’s a powerful warrior in this area that casts powerful jutsu. We’ve come to investigate for ourselves. Are you too dumb or blind to notice, or are you keeping something from us?”

Hashirama laughed nervously, holding up his hands. “That came off a bit strong, Madara. Um miss,” he called out, turning his attention towards Sakura. “My friend is rude and he didn’t meant to say the things he said so poorly. We’re not wanting to make trouble, but we are here on mutual business. There is something off about this place and we want to make sure it’s safe. You have loved ones, yes? Maybe even family members?”

Sakura thought of Naruto when she looked at Hashirama, and Sasuke when she glanced over at Madara. ‘No, I don’t. All my loved ones are dead thanks to a thousand year old goddess that brought me back to this god forsaken era.’

“Yeah,” she lied. Sakura swallowed her guilt and fought to keep up the smile.    

“We’re looking out for them. So, you can understand why we’re out here at all and why my friend is being a bit more rude than he has a right to be.”

“Stop speaking for me like I’m not even here to hear it,” Madara hissed.

“Have you heard of people getting hurt around this area?” Sakura asked, fixing her wide eyed look back in place. “I’ve never seen anyone get hurt here or heard of anyone going missing from local areas. It’s pretty boring out here, but if it’s as dangerous as you say, then maybe people ought to move away.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Hashirama started to say. “It’s not that we’ve heard of anything dangerous happening, but there is a person with great power nearby and the world is at war with itself.”

“Not just your two families?” Sakura interjected, eyeing both boys critically.

Madara tensed in an instant, reaching for a small blade at his side. “I told you she’d tell on us. She knows who we are!”

It was funny, Sakura didn’t remember Madara being this extra when they fought. Sure, the guy was dramatic and long winded like one would expect of a super villain in a story, but as a child he was a little trigger happy with his kunai. Maybe she shouldn’t press his buttons any more than she already had, but it was just too much fun to tease him.

“You’re thinking way too highly of yourself,” Sakura sighed. “There are plenty of people who don’t even care about your stupid family feuds, other than to mock it over tea and laugh about how no one even knows what the bad blood is even about anymore.”

“You insult my family!”

Madara cried, fully brandishing his blade now. Hashirama squeaked in surprise but quickly rushed to hold his friend back. Madara struggled, but didn’t advance even when it looked like Sakura was willing to stay still and let him come at her.

“Stop it, Madara, she’s not a ninja, you’d slaughter her.”

“She knows too much, I don’t trust her.”

“You can’t kill her.”

“Why not?”

Madara looked wild with his hair flying in a mess around his face. He had taken life before, he was used to drawing blood. War had already made him aggressive. He was a child but he was already a killer.

Sakura felt a tickle at her toes and looked down to see a small white slug burrow out of the ground. Sakura reached down to pluck it out of the dirt and lift it to her eyes. The slug chirped in greeting before cooing out a string of sentences too soft for anyone other than Sakura to hear. A moment later, the slug became vapor on her finger, fading fast.  

Sakura turned her attention back to Madara and Hashirama who were talking quietly to each other. “You make up you mind on if you want to try and kill me or not?” she called out.

Madara was still glaring hard, red eyes spinning. Sakura felt her own third eye pulse in anticipation behind her cracked Yin seal. It wanted to play but she held it back. It would do no good to expend energy now.

“Please, miss, we can not let you spread the news of our sighting. You must swear to us you will not,” Hashirama said.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I did, I suspect. Ah, but I can do something to change that.” She clapped her hands together, grinning. “I’ll show you my dirty laundry before I clean it. That way, you have one of my secrets, too!”

“Why the hell would anyone want to see an old lady’s dirty laundry?” Madara bit out.

“You said you wanted to see the powerful person who lived in this area, didn’t you?” Sakura teased, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

Before either boy could respond, she started to skip back in the direction of the genjutsu, passing right through it, dismantling parts of it as she went. She heard both boys following close behind, though couldn’t make out which one followed her first.

In a matter of seconds the innocent looking woodlands were pulling away to an open grassy field spotted with crude wood houses and several cultivated gardens. A handful of people were milling about in the open while a large white tent flapped in the breeze not far from where Sakura emerged from the hedges. There were a handful of people moving in and out of the tent.

“There’s my laundry, let me check to see how dirty it is before you follow me in,” Sakura hummed, striding over.

“Where is this place and how were you able to get in?” Hashirama asked in soft wonder. His eyes lingered a bit too long on the houses made out of crudely grown wood and she worried he recognized the art style.

“It’s just a little garden where people go who need healing. It’s a neutral zone, you could never get in unless you were let in or if you came in with a truly neutral heart. You two boys would have been out there forever, no thanks to your warring history. But it’s all good, you’re being watched well enough and I trust you won’t murder anyone on sight.” Sakura stopped walking, causing the other two boys to almost crash into her back. “Right?”

“No, of course not! It was never our-“

“No promises, if someone tries to knife me first I’ll lay em out,” Madara interjected, cutting his friend off.

Sakura hummed, turning around and folding her arms. “You’re not going to see the best part if you have an attitude like that. I’ll trow you out if you don’t swear to non violence while inside the sanctuary like all the others had to.”

“I don’t swear to anyone I don’t trust.” Madara pulled himself up to his full height, which was still a head shorter than Sakura and not that intimidating.

Sakura pulled herself up a little more, easily towering his stature. “I don’t trust you, kid, but I’m showing you a big secret that should earn enough trust for this request. No violence. Swear it now or find out what happens when you don’t.”

“Madara, we’re not here to fight.” Hashirama rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder and pat it once. “I’ll swear it.”

The Uchiha boy huffed in agitation, looking from his friend to Sakura, and then back to his friend again. “Fine! But I’ll defend myself if you jump me. I’ll not be the one who agitates anything around here.”

“You’re as safe as can be when you’re here with me,” Sakura said with a smile. “I’m trusting you with my secret, so trust me not to spread yours. Follow me inside.”

Sakura started to move towards the tent when a pair of men came out to pull the tent flap back for her and nod as she walked over the threshold. They eyed the two kids oddly, but didn’t question anything.

Inside the tent on a table were a pair of dark haired men in armor, bleeding heavily. Their eyes were closed, but one had veins around his eyes that still stood out in a way both boys recognized. Madara hissed and recoiled behind Hashirama.

“That one’s a Hyuga.”

“The other is a Inuzuka I think,” Hashirama said, eyeing the red tattoos on the man’s face. “They don’t like each other.”

“The Hyuga are scum that like no one,” Madara mumbled. “What is she doing with two ninja so badly hurt?”

Hashirama shrugged. “She said this was a place where people who are hurt would come for healing. Maybe there are doctors here who do that sort of thing.”

“For who? These ninja are enemies. Which one would be healed?”

Sakura ignored the boys and moved to the first man, pulling back his armor to see her slugs already eating away the dead skin and bacteria from his wounds. The Hyuga struggled, unconscious as he was when she reached for him. Sakura checked his forehead for any sort of seal and found none, relieving her of some worry. This one wasn’t going to turn into ash in her hands like Neji. Not this time.

Good, he was stable. She could take her time on this one if the other needed more immediate attention.

She moved to the man with the red marks on his face, thinking of Kiba. Sakura found the areas where the heaviest bruising was and noticed his ribs were broken and his heart was bruised. Something was leaking blood as well. It reminded her of injuries she had seen Lee suffering after a heavy spar with Neji, but never this severe. These were wounds meant to kill. This one was close to dying.

“Yeah, this one is in more danger,” Sakura said out loud, tying her hair up. She called for one of the nurses to prepare her some hot water but started healing right away. In the corner, both boys watched as he hands glowed green and seeped light right into the discolored skin. She stayed there for a while, pouring healing light into the body without altercation or hesitation.

“What are you doing?” Hashirama asked after a few minutes had passed.

“What do you think this looks like to you?” Sakura asked, honestly curious.

Had the boys ever seen someone heal with chakra before? Most who saw it for the first time were shocked and stupefied, but these boys were shinobi, they weren’t average people. They would at least recognize the chakra she was using and know it wasn’t magic.

“It looks like you’re investigating his body. Are you looking for clan secrets?” Madara asked, not caring about the state of the ninja.

“No, I’ve already done that and learned what I needed to learn. His heart is bruised and stretching. If it continues the heart could burst and he could die. I’m repairing the bruise on his heart first, before repairing his lungs. His bones will need a lot more time. I’ll get to them later.”

“How can you do that with chakra on another person?” Hashirama asked in wonder. “I’ve only ever heard of chakra doing that to the person it came from. My chakra heals me, but I can never help any of my brothers with it. How are you able to do that?”

“Sakura san are these boys allowed to be in here?” a woman entering the tent with more towels asked. She eyed the boys wearily, especially when Madara started to huff and puff himself up again.

“They are my friends and they requested they be here to see this,” Sakura answered, still pouring chakra into the man on the table in front of her.

“The children?”

“Yes.” Sakura’s voice was distracted as she looked further into the man with her sense of chakra.

His heart was starting to rapidly repair itself with new cells, a process that would have taken weeks, in a matter of minutes. Of course it would be closer to an hour when she felt his heart was strong enough to avoid rupture again, but still, it counted as a matter of minutes to anyone who cared.  

Sakura pushed herself to heal faster, to divide cells more fluidly, to progress the healing as best she could in as little time as possible. Subconsciously, her chakra started to tang with something new and she noticed in her healing there were also brand new cells coming to life. She was creating new cells for the damaged organ. She hadn’t meant to do that, but didn’t stop it once it started.

The new cells were strong and fast, like ones right out of a mother’s womb. They were the kind that could do anything and they were repairing the heart right now. There were voices around her, muffled and far off, but she couldn’t hear them and didn’t pay them any mind until the heart was finished. She started to pull away, but the tang of her chakra started to latch onto the bruised lungs and broken ribs. They were even faster on these things and Sakura had to actually struggle to pull herself away. She was making the man brand new and it was always a custom of hers to leave the patients to heal a bit on their own. She didn’t like making them stronger than her on the first day back.

Sakura pulled her chakra out of him and felt it seep back into her, pooling in her palms. Looking down, her chakra color was green for healing, but there were hues of aqua and shimmering blue she hadn’t seen before. She closed her hands and turned to face the Hyuga from before. She noticed that both boys were watching quietly from the corner, not saying anything even though she knew they must have been extremely bored.

“What did you do to that one?” Madara asked before anyone else could.

He was looking at the shinobi Sakura had just turned away from. Glancing back Sakura could make out a healthy color to the man’s cheeks, some relief in his expression, and a steadier breathing pattern. The man didn’t look to be in so much pain anymore. He looked almost at peace.

“Don’t interrupt the lady when she’s working,” the woman from before whispered to the two boys.

Sakura waved them off before hovering over the Hyuga. “I’ve healed him as best I could without exhausting myself.”

Charging her hands with more green healing chakra, Sakura began to seal up the cuts that were now free of infection. She drew the skin back together, pieced it bit by bit, knit the cells back together and healed the open gashes across his chest. They looked like they had been caused by an animal; dog no doubt. This healing was a little more visible and the boys were captivated with the sight of it.

“That’s faster than mine,”  Hashirama whispered to Madara.

Sakura ignored their whispers and investigated the man’s left hand, noticing the discoloration. Bones in his hand had been broken. Those always took longer to heal and had to be treated carefully. Sakura swelled her chakra and let it fall into his hand, coiling around the shattered bones and piecing them back together. She stimulated the natural growth as best she could once she made sure it was sure to heal correctly, but left before it could be completely healed. He needed to do some of the healing on his own.

“What are you going to do to them when they wake up. They’re enemies. They’ll want to fight each other.”

“As long as they stay in my garden, they’re bound to a vow of honor.” Sakura looked to Madara before going on. “There are no clans here, there are no wars, and no one is allowed to bring those in here with them. You understand this in your heart because you are able to befriend a Senju.”

It was the first time she saw Madara blush so honestly. He didn’t try to hide it or deny it. He almost seemed proud of his ability to look past it all.

“Maybe there is a time where you will no longer be able to see as you are, with eyes unclouded by hate, but here is a place where I do not allow hate or war. If you need it, this will always be a safe place for those who seek it.”

“You mean for us, or…” Hashirama looked sideways at Madara and then back at Sakura. He swallowed. “What about our brothers, what about our fathers. They wouldn’t all agree to something like that.”

“Why do you think I hid this place so well in the beginning?” Sakura asked. “People who need it and people with peace in their hearts will have no trouble getting here. But invaders, warmongers, men with hate at their core will find no such garden.”

It was Hashirama who spoke next.

“You hid the garden.”

It wasn’t a question. Beside him, Madara stood a bit taller, a little less proud and a little more weary. How did he see her now, she wondered.

Sakura brushed off some dirt from her clothing and pretended she didn’t know what their tone of wonder was for. “It’s getting late and you both have families you should be getting back to. Tell them if you wish, I won’t send anyone away who needs healing, but don’t think this is a game or a joke you can manipulate as you see fit.”