#she was loyal and believed in him. she gave him her arm. but with Jinx is goes deeper. so she gave her all.

[dirtytransmasc]

.... if Sevika dies, I want it to be her choice. if she dies, I want it to be for Jinx, Isha, and Zaun. I want it to be her protecting Jinx, because she can't lose both girls so close together. I want it to be for Jinx so she can lead Zaun. to be for Isha, so her sacrifice wasn't made in vain. I want it to be for herself, getting to finally be at peace, knowing that someone will be around to fight for and lead Zaun in a way she believes in so deeply, she was willing to die for it.

I don't want her to die in tragedy. I don't want her to die because she has to. I don't want her to die because it's expected of her. I want her death to be her own, much like Isha's was. because she's earned that but of autonomy. for her family. not for a boss. not as cannon fodder in a war. but because she believes in it. let her have that.

[disordercinema]

From what I see building up on Sevika's character arc since season 1 she's most likely becoming the new leader of Zaun by the end of the season. The thing she cares about the most is an united Zaun free from the upside, because of that she:

Worked for Vander because she believed he could free and unite Zaun;

Betrayed him when she thought he no longer aligned with her ideal of a leader;

Joined Silco and followed him loyally because she believed he was the only one who could do it;

Has been feeling lost and looking up to Vander to gain courage to try and unite the people since Silco died.

The thing is that she still lacks that confidence that she can be more than a henchman and she keeps trying to put Jinx on that role of leader despite Jinx not being suited for it. We can see that lack of confidence better on the intro for episode 2 with the song Sucker:

While everyone is fighting for Silco's chair, Sevika has her back turned to it. She speaks to the barons in that episode as if she's still Silco's right-hand-woman, she's still in his shadow. But when she rallies the zaunites in Jinx's name against Noxus, she has Vander as her shadow:

She learnt from both leaders of Zaun and she's finally stepping into the light. Her continuous loss of a left arm is shown as a symbolic departure from the leader she is following (her human arm when Vander "died", the first metal arm just before Silco died and the arm Jinx gave her now, but not because Jinx died but more because Jinx was never suited to be a leader just as the arm was wonky and not suited for Sevika). Her next arm will be probably made by her, for her, to signify her taking agency over her desire to unite Zaun and I won't be surprised that by the last episode she sits on Silco's chair either at the Last Drop or at the Chem Barons table.

Just please don't become Renata Glasc.

[urfictional]

what doesn’t kill you… `𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥

Summary: The one where it all started with betrayal. A meeting that later grew into a partnership no one expected. In the end, they both will have their Nation of Zaun. Or will they?

Warnings: Arcane spoilers, drug use, blood, violence, typical Arcane stuff.

Pairing: Silco x f!reader

series masterlist

Your stride was slow. For once, you wished to enjoy the place you had despised your entire life, to leave it behind and never return. Your life had been turned upside down in the last few days. You had transformed from a woman who doesn't care about anything to a woman who feels everything.

And the day it all turned upside down was the day you met Ren.

With her bright smile, that little girl was able to heal your broken and rotten heart. When you left Marcus' house that day, you refused to admit it. You couldn't believe that one small child could do such a thing to the most dangerous and feared woman in Zaun. Yet here you were, walking through the filthy streets of the Undercity to the bridge that would lead you to the little redhead.

You knew Ren will be waiting for you there. On the other side. You made sure she will.

Regardless of how terrible that sounded, you took advantage of the fact that Jinx's life was in the hands of the doctor and Silco had been knocked out by some drug. You went to the Last Drop after leaving Singed's place because you needed to do something. And you needed to do it fast.

As you entered The Last Drop, you took a look around the room. You discovered him at the bar. Charlie was your trusted man. Loyal to the core. The same way Sevika was to Silco. You recalled how the man found you and asked if he can work for you. You were skeptical at first because you didn't trust easily, but Charlie quickly changed your mind.

You knew after a few successful jobs that this man was one of the best. His outward appearance was deceiving. His shoulder-length black hair and sharp features gave him the ability to charm anyone, allowing him to obtain the information he, or rather you, desired.

You walked past the bar and tapped the black-haired man on the shoulder then you continued up the stairs without stopping. When you arrived at Silco’s office you left the door open for him.

“Close the door, behind you.”

You came to a halt in front of the desk before turning around. Charlie stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind him, waiting for you to speak. You leaned back against the desk, your arms on either side.

“I have a job for you.” You were staring at the ground. “You’ll have to go to Piltover to find someone. A girl.” Finally, you looked up. You had no idea why you were breathing so fast. You mouth was dry, and your head spun. You were nervous. And you had a huge reason to be.

“I have received an address of the place she is currently at. You will go there and inform them that I’ll be coming for her.” Charlie nodded his head in understanding.

“Alright, boss. Can you give me a name?” You exhaled a shaky breath. If Charlie noticed it, he chose not to mention it. And for that reason, you liked him the most.

“Her name is Ren.”

Ren is going to wait for you.

But the little redhead wasn’t the only reason.

Everything happened in perfect sync. First, the meeting with Ren, followed by the unexpected encounter with Professor Heimerdinger. And then there was Silco's betrayal. You had the impression that it had been meticulously planned by someone in order to keep you away from Zaun. Even if it was true that someone was behind all of this, you didn't care. The only thing that hurt was having to say goodbye to Silco.

You were aware that you were the first to decide to betray him. Only then Silco betrayed you. But, if that were the case, your departure would not have jeopardized their plans. You would have simply left without causing any damage.

However, Silco did. The opportunity was right in front of them. All he had to do was hand Jinx over, and that was it. Your long-term plan would be realized.

But could you give Ren over in exchange for your dream?

You let out a bitter laugh. Damn voices. It was easier when they were spewing nonsense rather than facts.

You didn't even realize you’d arrived. You were standing at the end of the bridge, looking at the city across. This was it. The last step.

The moment you were making a move to continue walking, you felt a sharp pain in your chest. It happened so fast that your legs gave out and you had to lean against the railings. You let out a shuddering breath, one hand clutching your chest and the other gripping the railing to keep yourself upright.

What in the hell was that?

You even looked down at your chest at one point to see if you had been shot. Because that's exactly how it felt; like several bullets seemed to have pierced your body. You looked down, breathing in a deep breath when you saw no red on your hand or clothes. Everything was in order. So, then what was it?

As if something snapped inside you, the voices in your head started to talk. They were all speaking at the same time, voices overlapping. You struggled to understand what they were saying, and after a minute, it became so unbearable that you had to let go of the railing to clutch you head instead.

But then among the chaos that happened inside your head, you recognized one word that made your blood freeze.  

Silco.

⸹ ⸹ ⸹

You leaned over the railing, your gaze fixed on the dark water beneath you. The sharp pain of shock was gone, but a new kind of pain began to fill your body. Your breathing quickened, your chest heaved, but at the same time, you couldn’t breathe at all. You didn’t even realize you had started crying when you choked on the tears that flowed past your cheeks. You felt it. You felt everything.

You knew exactly when Silco took his last breath, and it hurt. It was as if someone had inserted a knife into your chest and failed to extract it. Instead, the knife was being twisted, causing you to bleed all over the bridge. That's exactly how it felt. You wanted to scream, but all you could manage to get past your lips were sobs and more tears. You moved slowly across the bridge, one hand gripping the railings so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Nonetheless, you moved forward.

Once you reached the middle, you stopped.

You gripped the railings with your trembling hands even tighter, if that was even possible. You gazed out over the river. Just there if you squinted your eyes, you could see the old docks where it all started.

Why did you suddenly have the impression that everything also ended there? 

The voices began speaking all at once, once more, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pain. You tried to decipher the words. Buch of names you didn’t recognize, but one you did. Jinx

Your eyes snapped open. As if on cue the pain subsided. You looked down at your hands, which were firmly gripping the railing. If that was the case, and Jinx was truly to blame for Silco's death, there was nothing you could do. You had left it all behind you or was about to.

What to do? What to do?

You closed your eyes once more. There was still time to return. And what will you do when you’ll return? That was simple; you are going to make Jinx pay. But was that really what you desired?

Leave. Leave it behind and start a new life. Then one day you’ll return and make everyone pay. They will all know your anger.

Breathing out a shaky breath, you made you decision; or rather the voices in your head made it for you. You took out the gun you were carrying with you everywhere and dropped it to the ground. Honestly, you sometimes didn’t even know why you were carrying it with you all the time, it didn’t do the job done half as much as your powers did. The small weapons you had hidden in your pockets quickly followed. You frowned as you reached into your coat pocket and your fingers brushed against something.

When you pulled out your hand, you discovered a vial containing a purple substance in your palm. The dose of Shimmer that you didn’t use. A wave of rage washed over you, and you let out a scream as you threw the vial over the bridge and into the water.

This was it. The last thing that reminded her of Undercity, gone. You left the rest of your belongings on the ground, including the cane. If someone will walk past this place say tomorrow, they will think that somebody had taken their life here by jumping into the water. In a way, you did exactly that.

You breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in a long time. You took one last look back at the city from which you had come and, turning around, walked over to the other side. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you swore every step you took felt lighter. The pain that had settled in your heart decreased with each step. The pressure on your chest lessened as if someone gently removed the knife from your body and instantly healed the wound with soothing words.

Upon reaching the other side you looked around. They were supposed to be there. Somewhere.

Suddenly you heard footsteps from behind you. Upon spinning around, your heart clenched once more. Not from the pain this time, but from something entirely different.

Ren was standing there, clutching Charlie's hand. The little redhead who, unbeknownst to her, had stolen your heart. The only thing missing was the girl's beaming smile, but the moment Ren saw you standing there, the little girl let go of the man's hand and ran forward.

You knelt down as soon as the little girl was close enough. Then she threw herself into your arms. The tears had returned to fall down your cheeks, but for once you didn't mind. Because you now had everything. Fears of not knowing how to raise a child and of not knowing what was going to happen were gone. You had Ren now, and in the end, that’s all that mattered.

While still having Ren in your arms you looked up into the sky.

“I promise, Marcus, she won’t be alone.”

A sudden flash of light drew your attention. You rose to your feet and turned around, holding Ren's hand in your own. You frowned as you watched how something, followed by blue light that illuminated the sky, flew from the old docks towards the council building.

You moved the little girl further behind you as the blue light flashed brighter, shielding her from the danger that was about to come.

“What is it, boss?” You shifted your gaze away from the sky and towards Charlie, who had approached you and Ren, also staring at the bright blue light. You met his gaze with a troubled frown before they both turned their attention back to the skies. You clutched Ren’s hand tighter.

“I don’t know.”

You wanted to pretend that whatever it was had no effect on you, but then you would be lying to yourself. For one thing, you were certain; it will have an impact on Piltover. Even if you grew up despising Topsiders, you could now consider yourself one.

Just how fast things can change if a small human being with a heart bigger than themselves is at the stake.

But this is not the end of your story. You still have one thing to do. It makes no difference that you have no idea what is going on in Zaun or that now your place will be in Piltover; you will have your revenge. You won’t let it end like this. There's one thing everyone knows about you: you never forget those who had wronged or hurt you. Sooner or later, they pay for their crimes.

And they will all pay.

Jinx will pay.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[up-to-some-good]

Part 5: 5 times I fixed it...

“Mr and Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore started. “I’m afraid I have some bad news regarding the prophecy.”

Lily had had a bad feeling when he had pulled them out of the meeting early to talk. They had heard about the prophecy a month ago, but at that point it was between her baby and Alice’s, both born at the end of July.

“He thinks it’s about Harry,” she said.

She thought of her son. He was with James’s parents at Potter manor while they were at the meeting. He had been asleep when they left for headquarters. It was hard to believe there was a target on his back.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore responded.

James took a sharp breath and pulled Lily’s into his lap, squeezing her fingers. He reached for her whenever he needed comfort; every time he found out about another casualty, he pulled her into his arms. It was a comfort to both of them, but it didn’t work this time.

“What do we do?” James asked quietly.

“I believe you should go into hiding,” Dumbledore said. “Are you aware of the Fidelius charm?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “You conceal the secret of your location in another person. You cannot be found unless that person chooses to divulge the secret, but it cannot be coerced or otherwise forced out.”

“Correct,” the old man said, his eyes twinkling.

For a moment, Lily felt like she was back at Hogwarts, answering her Professors’ questions to win back the house points the man sitting next to her had lost.

“I suggest you use it to hide your family, until all is safe,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“All due respect, Albus,” a voice came from the door. “But that is a terrible idea.”

Professor McGonagall walked into the room and passed each of the Potters a biscuit from the tray downstairs. Dumbledore gave her an indecipherable look.

“We all know there is a spy in the Order,” she continued. “You cannot guarantee the person you choose will not betray you and, even if they do not, they could be found and killed or tortured until they revealed the location.”

“What do you suggest, Professor?” Lily asked.

“Leave the country,” she said simply. “Go somewhere far away, like Australia, where there are no Death Eaters, and return when the war is over. I suggest the Longbottoms go with you as a precaution.”

“How do we stop Voldemort from simply following us? We won’t have back up in Australia if he comes for us,” James questioned.

“A simple diversion will do,” McGonagall responded. “We will place two houses under the Fidelius as if you were living there. They will serve the purpose to hide your true location without putting you at risk.”

“Who will be the secret keeper?” James asked.

“Myself and Alastor,” McGonagall said easily.

“Okay,” James said. “I trust you.”

Two days later, the Potters packed their bags and headed for the airport. They said goodbye to Euphemia and Fleamont the night before at dinner, pretending they would be reunited, but knowing the elder two would not be around much longer. Alice and Frank met them at the airport with Neville and gave them tight hugs. No one in the Order, not even the other marauders, knew where the families were going, just that they would be in hiding for the foreseeable future.

“Ready to go?” Frank asked.

“As much as we can be,” Lily said.

The six passed through the airport and boarded the plane together, disappearing for the next year.

***  

When he arrived at the flat, Sirius poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and retreated to his bedroom. James and Lily had been gone for a month and things were getting harder. The remaining marauders were always on separate missions, gone for days at a time and not telling each other where they were going.

Remus came back injured and held on to Sirius as tightly as he could when he came back, but they didn’t talk. Sirius loved him as much as he ever had but wondered how much longer he could go without knowing what Remus was doing or telling Remus what he was doing.

Peter did nothing but talk, guessing who the spy was and changing his opinion daily. The day he suggested Remus, Sirius asked him to move out of the apartment. He had to trust Remus and Peter. They were all he had left without the Potters.

A sound from the living room startled him. Someone had apparated into the flat, someone unexpected. Remus always apparated outside the front door, so his boyfriend wasn’t back, and Peter always sent an owl ahead, so it couldn’t be him.

He grabbed his wand and stormed into the living room to find –

Regulus, lying on the floor and drenched. He looked like he was breathing, but the strain of apparating had clearly knocked him out. There was some sort of locket clutched in his hands.

“Merlin,” Sirius said, running to crouch at his brother’s side.

He started casting every healing and warming spell he could think of, grateful for Remus’s lycanthropy for the first time. Regulus was a known Death Eater so Sirius shouldn’t have been helping him. He was his little brother, though, and he couldn’t watch him die on his living room carpet.

Eventually, Regulus started awake, sitting up rapidly and nearly collapsing again from the effort. Sirius caught him before he fell and moved him carefully to the sofa.

“Sirius?” he asked weakly.

“What the hell happened, Reg?” he asked.

Regulus started laughing, leaning his head back on one of the throw pillows. Bewildered, Sirius watched his brother laugh hysterically for a few minutes before he calmed down and looked back at him.

“I should be dead,” he said eventually. “I thought for sure apparating to a place I barely remember from underwater would kill me, if the inferi didn’t first.”

“What are you talking about?”

Regulus didn’t answer. Instead he sat up and threw the locket at Sirius, who caught it easily.

“What do you know about horcruxes, Siri?” he asked tiredly.

Within the next few days, Regulus repeated his story multiple times, to Dumbledore, Remus, Moody, and any other Order member who wanted to hear it. He wanted to join the Order, help with the hunt for horcruxes, but few trusted him.

“I’ll swear an Unbreakable Vow,” he said eventually. “I’ll vow that I won’t betray the Order, that I’ll be loyal.”

Dumbledore agreed and, once the spell was cast, Regulus was welcomed into the Order of the Phoenix.

Everyone’s missions were cancelled, unless absolutely necessary, in lieu of the hunt for horcruxes. Dumbledore guessed at the number and objects and sent them out to look for them. Within a few months, the Order had gathered the cup, locket, diadem, diary and ring after a few daring missions and one small, albeit destructive, heist from Gringotts.

“Now what?” Sirius asked. “How do we get rid of them?”

“There are two known methods,” came the calm answer from Dumbledore. “Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre.”

“So we’re fucked?” Remus asked incredulously. “Unless someone as a pet Basilisk they’d like to share?”

“There’s rumoured to be one at Hogwarts,” Regulus said mildly. “But I don’t know where.”

The Order looked at the objects on the table and collectively sighed. The few months tracking them down meant nothing if they couldn’t destroy them.

“Anyone have a house they’re willing to burn down?” Remus asked the room eventually. “Preferably one with an astounding amount of protective charms so we don’t have to cast them?”

Sirius and Regulus shared a look. Walburga Black had died just a month ago, leaving Grimmauld Place entirely empty. Orion had been an especially paranoid man, so the house had always been protected with every charm he could find. Neither of them wanted the house and they had already set Kreacher free – it was perfect.

“Actually,” Regulus said. “I think we do.”

Watching the house burn was incredible, skulls rising from the smoke as Voldemort’s soul died in the fire. It was almost fun – until the Death Eaters arrived.

A fierce battle started, everyone fighting to get to the centre, where Voldemort himself was fighting Dumbledore. Sirius stood with his back against Remus’s, righting Bellatrix and Rowle simultaneously. Remus was engaged with Yaxley and Malfoy, occasionally shooting a jinx at Goyle, busy fighting Regulus.

Across from them, Peter and Snape were engaged in a duel, neither of them focused on anything around them. Unexpectedly, Peter stunned Snape and moved on. Even more, unexpectedly, he joined Sirius’s duel – on the Death Eaters’ side.

“You little rat, Pettigrew,” he yelled. “How could you?”

“You’re not going to win, Black,” Peter yelled. “Last chance to switch sides!”

“Fuck you,” Sirius sneered.

A second later, everything changed. Dumbledore landed the killing shot and Voldemort crumpled. Bellatrix pointed her wand at a distracted Sirius. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees, but she didn’t let up, keeping her focus on torturing her cousin as if he were personally responsible for her master’s death. Peter cursed Remus before disapparating with the other Death Eaters as Moody began stunning everyone in sight.

Remus collapsed next to Sirius, blood pouring from the cuts on his chest.

“Avada kedavra!”

A green beam of light hit Bellatrix in the chest, she and Sirius collapsed simultaneously, the latter panting and shaking.

“I never liked her,” Regulus said mildly, pocketing his wand.

Sirius and Remus woke up to a sound in the living room a week later. They had left the hospital a day before, both of them still exhausted and still in pain, but alive. They slowly got up and grabbed their wands before padding to the living room, where they were tackled into a group hug by a flash of red hair.

“Lily,” Sirius said breathlessly, hugging her tighter. “You’re back.”

He pulled away and looked up to see James, holding Harry, who was almost a toddler at this point.

“We’re back,” James said quietly.

[theravennest]

Nearly all the mains in “The Blooms at Ruyi Pavillion” are bisexual. I said it, so what?

My Bisexual Agenda is in high gear, y’all.

I’m hard binging the show and I’m on ep 35 now. I know they absolutely didn’t mean it this way but the main female character, Rong, gives me major poly bi vibes and I’m losing my mind over it.

Exhibit A: She sits like this.

A whole bisexual.

Exhibit B: She likes to cross-dress.

Her fit on the left with the snowy white over layer, the silver design work, and the brilliant red under layer? Immaculate.

Exhibit C: A day at the brothel.

Was it for an information gathering mission? Yes. Was it still fruity af? Also, yes.

Exhibit D: This Choice.

After Rong marries Prince Su as his concubine/consort (notably not as his First Wife), her “rival” Princess Xihe tries to weasel her way into their home in hopes of marrying Prince Su as his First Wife instead. She tries a bunch of tricks to get Prince Su to fall for her including playing up an injury to make him stay by her bedside.

So, what does our totally-not-bi female lead do?

She decides to slot herself into all of Princess Xihe’s romance entrapment plots and perform them with her.

What is that look, Prince Su????? The OT3 potential is real, y’all...

---

Except it’s not Prince Su who stays, it’s...Rong!

Bonus shot of Prince Su listening outside while Princess Xihe has a tantrum over not sleeping with him but with his wife instead:

I swear for god, Prince Su spends this whole sequence trying to wingman his own wife into bed with another woman.

Exhibit E: This. Whole. Exchange. Like seriously wtf?!

What in the holy???? This. Was. So. Bi-conic? For no reason, like???

Also why is she me when I see a cute girl I like crushing on a cute guy that I also like?

Exhibit F: Her Primary Emotional Arc

Now, let’s set aside the 2nd ML since she’s not romantically interested in him (and he is complete murdering, manipulating trash anyway so fuck him).

Rong’s biggest emotional arc for a huge part of the show is her being torn between loyalties to her sexy prince and her equally sexy mentor.

Prince Su

A man who’s kind, disciplined, too goofy for his own good, loyal to a fault, reckless with his life cuz he has pretty extreme low self esteem after he’s been told all his life he’s a jinx that curses everyone around him with bad luck.

Madam Ruyi

A self-made businesswoman who built a wildly successful jewelry emporium that acts as the front for a covert spy / blackmail-for-hire agency. So impressive, actually. She’s so morally gray she’ll extort you with implied threats against your chronically sick son while also planning to provide all the ingredients for the kid’s cure later on.

Both are resident badasses, btw:

Turns out Rong has the same type as me: Hot and Deadly.

---

Quick aside: let’s be honest...the Rong-Ruyi relationship is mentor-mentee with some older sister/aunt energy. I get that. I do. Buuuuuut...I also get big, fat lesbian vibes from Madam Ruyi and I have a weakness for older women so I’ll die on this hill.

Anyway, Madam Ruyi wants to leave literally all of her worldly assets to Rong and made her the spiritual successor of the jewelry business and its metalwork knowledge. While Rong doesn’t know it at the time, Ruyi probably also wants to make her the successor to her spy agency. She just never got the chance to ease Rong into that side of things.

Now at the midway mark of the show, Rong has the choice to either marry Prince Su in peaceful bliss or avenge her mentor because she mistakenly believes he killed her master. 

I won’t get into all of the plot of this though I do have Thoughts. IMO, it makes a kind of sense as Rong’s been resisting falling for Prince Su up to this point due to her doom-filled prophetic dreams. But it doesn’t make sense that she didn’t at least try to talk to him first after what they’ve been through and I’m mad at the writer about it but whatever I digress...

The long and short of it is Rong has to choose between her years-long love for her mentor and the newfound love building for the prince. Guess what? She chooses her mentor and tries to stab the prince on their wedding night. 😬

While this is wrong for various reasons both in the story and because of poor plotting/characterization, it opened the door for my bi ass to highkey ship Rong-Ruyi and it gave a lot of unexpected angst for the Rong-Su ship, which I also enjoy. 

Let me tell y’all, I walked right on through that door into my own fantasy world where this show is 10x gayer than it is irl.

Speaking of...

Prince Su and his best friend Baiqi are FWB cuz Baiqi is also a bisexual, fight me.

What was even the point of this moment?

*yoink*

Also, there is this iconic comforting moment:

Followed by this other bit of tenderness:

Sometimes when the dad you’ve hated for so many years tries to kill you but then later decides to spare you when he blows himself up leaving you all fucked up and confused, the only solace you can find is in the arms of your best friend-boss and/or your girlfriend.

Me too, Baiqi. Me too.

[obligatorynasty]

Pathways, Chapter 2: Rage Against the Self

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] | Read on: AO3 | WC: ~4k | Please excuse any typos.

Main Tags: Mafia AU, Starker, WinterSpider, Guns, Violence, Blood and Injury, Fear, Knives, Minor Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Abuse, [Read all tags on AO3]

*~*~*

Mornings were rough – rougher after a night of running, shooting, and sleeping like the dead on a secondhand couch. The sun was barely up but the smell of coffee and toaster pastries wafted through the air, waking Peter up much like a beam of sun would if it weren’t so overcast outside. He sat up, stretching and yawning in tandem before standing up slow. His muscles were on fire, screaming at him for over-exerting himself the night before. He winced with each step towards the kitchen, leaning in the archway, eyes settling on his two friends, whose words were laced with laughter as they sipped coffee by the toaster. It was the kind of serenity Peter needed to soothe his jumbled mind.

“Morning Pete,” MJ spoke, moving to pour her tired friend a cup of coffee. “Do you want milk? We have almond and cow.”

Peter smiled, attempting to fix his bed head as he gave MJ a nod, “Cow is fine, thanks.”

“How’d you sleep?” Shuri asked, gesturing toward the old couch with a scrunched face. “I know that monstrosity isn’t really comfortable.”

“I slept fine, I guess,” Peter shrugged, thanking MJ for the coffee before taking a sip and sighing like he had tasted heaven. “To be honest, the nicest bed in the world wouldn’t have helped me sleep well last night.”

“Fair point,” MJ nodded, commiserating with her friend’s worries. “Most important thing is that you’ve made it to today. Focus on that for now.”

“Right,” Shuri echoed with a pointed finger. “You’re all good. No cops. No gang members. So far, everything’s looking up.”

Peter shook his head, snorting at the prospect as if he had been jinxed. “She says just before they raid the house and take Peter into custody. He’s charged with murder and gets prison for life. The end.” Peter joked, ending his dramatics with a somber smile. “That’s it. That’s my story.”

“Or–” Shuri interjected, an optimistic grin carrying her words. “—maybe your story is more heroic than that. Beck was – is – a fucking asshole. I’ve heard enough from you to know that much.” She stepped forward, placing her hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You just gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

Peter understood that. He understood that Quentin was not all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. At his core, Quentin was a good-for-nothing abuser. Someone who had left Peter bawling his eyes out on more than one occasion. Shooting that asshole was not the thing keeping Peter teetering on edge. What was eating away at Peter’s core was deeper than that. It was something he still could not bring himself to acknowledge, let alone tell his best friends.

“You’re right,” Peter nodded, staring into his cup of coffee and breathing a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t be so worried. Everything will be just fi–”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Peter dropped his mug, stunned still by the sound of someone at the door, his mind wondering if cops and gangsters knocked on the door in the same way. The hot coffee splashed against his shins but he barely felt anything. It was like his body was buffering; a reactionary delay as the ceramic shards shattered against the tile, skirting passed his feet. A tense silence fell over the kitchen as Peter looked to MJ, who looked to Shuri, who looked to Peter. A litany of flickering gazes inundated with panic – utter pain.

“I’ll get the door,” Shuri cut through the tense atmosphere with a forced calm, her lips pressed into a hard line and her arms stick-straight at her sides.  “Don’t worry, maybe it’s just my brother.”

“This early?” MJ whispered, only adding to the sweat beading on Peter’s forehead. “He said he would be here in like an hour.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Shuri argued beneath her breath, “Should I not answer the door? Do you want to?”

“Should I leave?” Peter mumbled as he finally came down from the shock, his eyes falling to the coffee pooling into the grout of the kitchen tile. “The mug, fuck, I'm sorry, I need to-” He bent down, picking up the shards with quaking hands.

“Forget the mug, Peter, I’ll get it,” MJ grabbed his forearm, pulling him upright. “Just,” She paused, frustration and worry boiling up from her sporadic hand gestures. “Go get your stuff, alright?" She said, pointing towards the staircase with one hand and gently patting Peter’s back with the other, trying to get him to focus. "And then go out my window, down the fire escape.”

“And go where?” Peter breathed out, running a stressed hand through his curls. “I can’t just go back to campus, what if they’re looking for me there? I don’t know what t-”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“I’m going to open it,” Shuri exited the kitchen, walking to the door faster than Peter could register his next moves. “It’s probably just my brother-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Peter frantically whispered, abandoning his reservations and once again, relying on instincts. He darted towards the staircase, grabbing his sneakers on the way, nearly losing his footing and practically tripping up each step. 

At the top of the stairs, he rushed into MJ’s room, pulling his blood-splattered clothes from the laundry bag. They had been washed but the blood remained in the form of light brown splotches permanently staining the fabric. In other words, Peter would have to pay MJ back for the t-shirt and sweatpants later. He balled up the clothes and tucked them under his arm, managing to simultaneously slip on his sneakers as he awkwardly hopped towards the window. And before he could even hear who entered the front door, he was on the fire escape.  

Peter was never one to believe in luck; things either went right or they didn’t. As he made his descent down the rickety black metal, it never crossed his mind that luck played any part in his recent misfortunes. However, as he slid down that final ladder, even he cursed at himself for being so fucking unlucky. Standing beneath the fire escape, at no more than an arm's length away, was someone he wished that he never had to see again. 

“You!” Said Killmonger, dropping the cigarette that had been perched between his lips as his eyes fell onto Peter, who was staring at him like a deer in headlights that knew tumbling over the hood was non-negotiable.

“Shit–!” Peter breathed out as his body started to move, like his brain had set his legs on autopilot. He was running again. This time, however, was significantly slower than the previous night. His muscles didn’t just ache, they were an inferno. Each step hit the pavement weaker than the last, even the surge of adrenaline fell short.

This chase was different; this time Peter had fear but not because Erik’s footsteps seemed much closer than Quentin’s ever were. Not because his t-shirt was being pulled backward, making him stumble and drop his guilt-stained clothes. Not because he was pulled into a headlock so tight that he swore his vision blurred with purple spots. No, this chase was different because of the reason he ran. He was not running from Erik, or Tony, per se. He was running from the rush of excitement that boiled in his gut as Erik pinned him. The glee that worked its way through his entire being at the powerful possibilities that being taken to Tony could grant. 

“Stop elbowing me, god damn-!” Erik snapped, using his free hand to stop Peter’s futile jabs. “The fuck were you comin’ out of my cousin’s house for?!”

Peter froze, halting his flailing, relagating every ounce of brain power to understanding what the fuck Erik had said. “Cousin?” He repeated, considering for a moment that maybe Erik was confused.

“Yeah, Shuri.” He wasn’t confused.

“Shuri’s your cousin!?” Peter screamed but it came out breathy from the chokehold. 

“Who the fuck is she to you?” Erik asked, his tone dripping confusion.

Peter didn’t know if answering truthfully was the correct move, but he did, hoping that a mutual connection would be enough to get him out of this mess. “She’s my friend from school.”

“Shit–!” Erik breathed out, much like Peter had earlier. “This complicates things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sorry, kid, I’mma need you to shut up for a sec,” Erik mumbled and before Peter could respond, a sudden pain had him falling limp against the concrete. 

*~*~*

As Peter’s world came into focus, so did the pain throbbing at the back of his neck. Getting his bearings was as simple as letting his eyes squint open. He was laying across the backseat of a car, arms and legs bound with heavy duty zip tie cuffs. His first impulse was escaping – not that he had a plan – but, upon hearing voices outside of the car, he remained still and listened. 

“What do you mean he’s friends with your cousin?!” Voice one was definitely Steve. Peter wouldn’t forget that authoritative bark so soon.

“I don’t know, he came down the fucking fire escape so I just grabbed him.” Voice two was the captor himself; Killmonger. 

Steve sighed, leaning against the back door, causing the small car to shift on its axles. “Do you know if he told them anything?”

“No, I didn’t get a chance to go in there yet, man. T’Challa is blowin’ up my phone.”

“Well, I’ll see what the Boss says,” Steve spoke with a hint of frustration. “That may complicate things.”

“Exactly,” Erik quickly agreed, his tone more hostile and unsettled than it was before. “I don’t know how much he told them but y’all not touchin’ my fuckin’ family.”

“Drop the sentiments, Erik. You just figured out that you even had one of those.”

“Watch yourself, Rogers.”

“And you remember where your loyalties lie, Killmonger.”

“Ain’t nobody loyal, I work for money, not men,” Erik fired back. “And I can get that anywhere so you better stay the fuck away from my blood.”

It was quiet for a moment and Peter could only imagine the tension on their faces before Steve broke the silence. “For now, I’ll head back and I will be sure to remind the Boss that you were the one that caught the kid.”

“And you’ll say that my family don’t know shit.”

“Maybe I will,” Steve laughed, “I’ll be sure to let him know you told me what to say.”

“Nah, Steve, I don’t think you understand,” Erik threatened. “You ain’t the Boss’s favorite. Who you think he put in charge of Barnes?”

There was another pause, a long one that ended in overconfident laughter from Erik, that undoubtedly sparked from whatever face Steve was making.

“What?” Erik taunted as his laughter fizzled out. “It’s not my fault your boyfriend can’t follow orders.”

“Quiet,” Steve huffed, banging his fist against the car door. “You’ll get what you want. This conversation didn’t happen.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

With that, Steve slid into the front seat, starting the ignition and pulling away from the curb. Peter didn’t know whether he should pretend to be asleep or make his consciousness known. He had no idea where he was. His point of reference was MJ and Shuri’s house but after being knocked out, that was gone. He couldn’t even keep up with the number of turns and the merges as they exited the city. From his vantage point, he could see the city’s tall buildings become scarce. It was infuriating.

 So after the smooth road became bumpy like gravel, Peter impatiently broke the silence. “Where are you taking me?” The question felt right in the moment, but the way the car pulled to the side of the road and slowed to a stop instantly filled him with regret.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Steve said as he exited the front door, yanking the back door open in the same motion. “Let’s fix that.”

Peter’s eyes went wide, staring up at Steve – or rather, Steve’s hands, which were gripping a small syringe that Peter wanted absolutely nothing to do with. “Wait!” He screamed, jolting upright and recoiling to the other side of the backseat, desperately trying to reach the door handle with his bound hands.

“Relax, kid,” Steve’s calm was eerie as he leaned into the car, one knee against the seats, reaching for Peter’s upper arm. “This won’t even hurt.”

“No!” Peter screamed again, giving up on the door handle and, instead, opting to fall against the door and kick out his bound ankles. As his desperate kicks connected with Steve’s torso, he yelled with each impact, “Get away from me! Get away!” 

Steve gripped his side, his furrowed brow giving away his frustration as he took a deep breath. “Guess we’re playing this game,” He muttered under his exhale as he took Peter’s calf into a vice grip and yanked his body forward. 

The sudden pull forced the air out of Peter’s lungs but, through his gasping, Peter continued to thrash, engaging every available muscle that wasn’t already spent. “Fuck you!”

Steve let out an aggravated groan, using his knee to pin the kid’s squirming legs. “You finished?” Steve leaned forward, hovering over Peter’s immobile body, posing the question with a raised brow.

Peter was panting from the adrenaline, his eyes frantically bouncing between Steve’s eyes and the syringe in his right hand. The inevitability of the situation quickly setting in and, much like before, he found himself laughing. Giggling with tears welling at the corners of his eyes and running towards his ears with every blink. “I’m scared of you,” He spoke between a few breathy laughs. “You’re so fucking scary. Fuck.”

“You’re scarier,” Steve smiled as he primed the syringe and pushed the needle into the side of Peter’s neck, watching as Peter’s laughs waned and his eyelids drooped closed. 

*~*~*

When Peter came to for the second time, his hands shot up, clutching at his temples where the throbbing was already starting to ease. His vision was blurry but with a few slow blinks, the world shifted into focus. His first sight was expected – excitingly expected, in a morbid way – the imposing presence of a powerful man that lived in his mind rent-free; the Boss himself, Tony. Who else could it have been that had him dragged here? To this modern mansion, in the middle of god-knows-where, in this windowless room with nothing but the sound of their breaths cutting through the tension.

“You’re awake,” Tony spoke, one leg tossed over the other, his arms on either rest of the throne-like chair, donned in a suit not unlike the one he wore when they first met. “I heard you were quite a handful. How are you feeling?”

Peter rolled his eyes and stood, fighting against the tilted world his dizzy brain presented to him. “How am I feeling?” He repeated, staring incredulously, all but gawking at the gall of the question. “You fucking kidnapped me!”

“I had someone kidnap you. There’s a difference.” Tony pointedly stated, flashing a grin so smug that Peter felt his blood boil.

“You threw me into the back of a car and drugged me! I was unconscious! Twice!” Peter snapped, unsure of where this fire was coming from. His mind kept screaming at him, saying that Tony was dangerous – and, of course, his mind was correct but he didn’t dwell – the seal was already broken so he would do as he pleased.

“Again, sweetheart, there’s a bit of nuance to what I specifically did,” Tony breathed a short laugh. “Besides, that has nothing to do with how you feel.”

“How I feel?!” Peter groaned, a smile of disbelief tugging on the corners of his mouth as he ran a frustrated hand through his curls. “Violated!” He yelled, stiffly gesturing with each syllable. “Infuriated! Taken against my fucking will! Pissed-!”

“I have a gift for you, sweetheart.” Tony interrupted, seemingly disregarding every word that formed in Peter’s rage. In fact, Tony didn’t even flinch. Peter was so angry that his palms felt hot and his throat was sore from all the yelling. He was exploding, but Tony just sat there with an amused smirk and a devilish calm; the power of which was akin to both the unstoppable force and the immovable object.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it,” Peter immediately refused and, instead, he set his stride towards the door. “I want to leave.” “Can’t let you do that,” Tony stood, stepping in Peter’s path, grabbing him by the wrist and shoving him against the armchair.

“Fuck you!” Peter’s words were venomous as he shot back up, yanking his wrist free and darting towards the door. This time he managed to evade Tony’s grasp. A small victory that was swiftly quelled as he gripped the handle and realized that it was a locked door – and it was locked from the outside. 

The realization made Peter take in more of his surroundings. The room was like an underground studio apartment. It had everything – a bed, kitchen, bathroom, wall-mounted flatscreen – it was decorated in a way that made Peter’s stomach do a flip. How he always managed to get caught up on the wrong path, he didn’t know.

Peter broke into laughter – a reaction to fear that he was starting to get comfortable with the more he did it.  “How long do you plan on keeping me here?” He asked, strolling toward the fridge with the carelessness of someone confined. He flung open the fridge door, laughing harder to see it fully stocked. “That long, huh?” He slammed the fridge door before sauntering back to the chair he started in, dejectedly dropping against the cushion.

“Have you calmed down?” Tony asked as he sat back down as well, adjusting his tie as he did.

Peter took a deep breath. He was here now, he thought, no sense in burning a bridge when it seemed to be his only escape route. “Yes,” He nodded, flashing a sweet smile and bright eyes, a trick he picked up while escorting. “Thank you for the room, Tony. I really love it.”

“Wow,” Tony grinned, biting his lip and staring at Peter with a hunger in his eyes. “You really know how to turn that on and off.” 

“I was just a bit disoriented, sir,” Peter turned the charm up to eleven, desperately ignoring the twinge of excitement in his gut, trying to focus on being disgusted. After all, disgust seemed like a more appropriate reaction to his situation. “I didn’t exactly have the best experience on the way here. I’m sorry for being so angry.”

Tony tsked, crossing his arms like Peter’s discomfort meant something to him. “If I had a choice, I would’ve sent Barnes after you. He knows restraint, even when it’s against his best interests.”

“Barnes?” Peter repeated, immediately recalling the name. “Bucky, right?”

“That’s right,” Tony nodded. “He’s one of my best men. He just needed some adjusting.”

Peter understood it as a threat; a reminder that he was only alive because Bucky was suffering. “What are you doing to him?” He asked, his tone skirting somewhere between playfully and morbidly curious.

“Would you like to see?” Tony asked, pulling a phone from his pocket and beckoning Peter with his free hand.

And as Peter shortened the distance, staring at Tony’s outstretched hand, he wondered if Tony would hear his heart pounding. He wondered if, in this closeness, he would notice how hot his body burned. “Yes,” Peter answered, taking Tony’s hand with a smile and sliding into his lap. The motion was free of hesitation; purely second nature – again, he found himself thanking his previous work – letting the older man’s arm snake around his torso as they watched the phone screen.

It was a live feed from a small room; completely concrete and illuminated by a singular spotlight. It was difficult to see the details but Peter could see Bucky. He was slumped over, unmoving, tied to a chair and, from what Peter could see, he was bleeding from his hand.

“See?” Tony spoke with an uncaring tone. “He’s fine.”

“He’s not moving,” Peter shook his head and stood, mentally kicking himself for feeling that same morbid excitement.

“And that bothers you?” Tony questioned, a look of intrigue in his eyes.

Peter smiled, shrugging like it wasn’t eating away at him, “Not at all.”

“You’re so convincing,” Tony marveled, shaking his head with a grin. “Not many people can make me second guess myself.” 

Peter returned to the opposing chair, purposefully leaning back, letting the hem of his t-shirt ride up a couple of inches, letting his knees part ever-so-slightly. “Does that mean I’m special to you, sir?”

“You’re something,” Tony admitted, his eyes momentarily flickering to Peter’s exposed skin. “I’m sorry you had a bad experience coming here. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

“Then why come after me?” Peter implored, tapping his fingers against his knee. “You let me go yesterday.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, kid,” Tony gave a belittling laugh, momentarily averting his gaze. “I had more important business at the time and I knew getting you back was a given.”

Peter squinted, “You sound sure of yourself.”

“Well, either you would come willingly or you would pretend that you didn’t want to come willingly – I should’ve guessed it would be the latter – you and Erik running into each other was simply the catalyst.” Tony spoke with a confidence that poked at Peter’s sanity. “Your denial is the most crystal clear part of you, sweetheart.”

“My denial?” Peter echoed, scoffing in an attempt to save face, but silently judging himself for how weak it sounded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you know how quickly a bullet leaves the chamber of a gun, Peter?” Tony posed the question like it wasn’t meant to be answered. “Most people close their eyes when a gun is fired. They cower from it, flinching as the trigger is pulled, anticipating the carnage with fear. But you—”

“What’s the point of this?” Peter hated where this was going. Everything Tony said made him want to smile.

“—you didn’t flinch.” Tony continued. “You were beaming, Peter. You were savoring it.”

And Peter suddenly remembered – or rather, he suddenly let his mind have enough real estate to recall those feelings that he wanted so badly to repress. The burning eroticism of wielding power; the cool metal of control; the reverberation of utter pleasure when shooting that gun. It terrified him to be so thrilled by it.

“I wasn’t,” Peter’s tone was even weaker that time. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Is that right?” Tony challenged, speaking in that same sultry tone that sat at the beginning of Peter’s dangerous infatuation with him. “In time, I think you’ll find that I know everything.”

Peter felt a chill tremble down his back and a heat in his cheeks that he wished would disappear. Tony’s presence was imposing and infuriating and desirable all at once like some kind of sick joke. Why did a man like this send shivers down Peter's spine in such a dichotomous way? 

“What do you want from me, Tony?”

Tony sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he stood. “Isn’t that the million dollar question?”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, understanding exactly what Tony meant but too nervous to speak it into existence.

“You’re more intriguing than you think, Peter Parker,” Tony began. “I wanted you so I took you. I haven’t decided what I’m doing with you just yet.”

“So I’m just supposed to be a prisoner until you feel up to making a decision?” Peter breathed slow, furrowing and unfurrowing his brow, trying to maintain his composure. “You don’t want anything?”

“Not yet,” Tony admitted, “But you’re not a prisoner.”

“Tell that to the locked door and the stocked fridge,” Peter quipped, his leg restlessly bouncing as anxiety crept up his back. He really did not want to be stuck in here.

“This is only temporary,” Tony assured. “I need to know if I can trust you before letting you roam the property.” He grinned, crooked and dauntless. “I can’t have my things running away now, can I?”

Peter clenched his teeth at the notion. “Can’t you just fuck me and toss me out? I would honestly prefer if we just got it over with.”

Tony laughed, “I’m not a monster, Peter.”

“You had me fooled.”

“While you’re here, you can have anything you want,” Tony offered, adding stipulations before Peter could get a word in. “Within reason, of course. No, you cannot leave this room right now and, no, you cannot have your phone.”

“Right,” Peter nodded, smiling with disbelief. “And you’re leaving me here alone?”

“For now, yes,” Tony stepped toward Peter, reaching a hand up to cup the side of his face. “Is there anything you want before I go?”

Peter would like to think that he forced himself to lean into the touch, “Please don’t leave me here.”

Tony breathed a short laugh, “Drop the act, kid. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s survival,” Peter challenged, pulling his face away from Tony’s hand. “You wouldn’t understand because you’re on the other side of it.”

“You could be on the other side of it too, you know,” Tony placed a hand atop Peter’s shoulder. “On the side where you let yourself do whatever you want,” He hummed. “Killing that guy for instance – what was his name again? – Beck?”

“Quentin,” Peter inhaled. “Is he-?”

“Dead?” Tony offered. “No, not yet anyways. I’m saving him just for you. So whenever you accept who you truly are, he’ll be there for target practice.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you love it,” Tony grinned before turning on his heel and heading towards the door. “Now I hate to cut this short but I have some business to take care of.”

Peter paused, the reality of being alone suddenly suffocating him again. “Wait,” He called out, pulling Tony’s attention. “You said I could have anything I wanted?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want Bucky.”

*~*~*

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Twenty

When you came downstairs in the morning, still wearing your pilfered hoodie, the compound was in full swing. It was getting to be late in the morning, and almost everyone was waiting. Lurking to see if there was a trainwreck on their hands. 

By now, they’d all heard about Clint blowing up at Bucky. And that last piece of the puzzle they hadn’t all been privy to. 

That you and Bucky had had sex. And that had resulted in a baby. It was a bombshell for some of them honestly. And no one wondered about why you had run away anymore. But everyone wondered what Clint had said or done to get you to come back.

But, you don’t look like you and Clint had spent the night fighting. Thor smiles a little and breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not ostentatious, but you look well-loved. Happy. A soft contented glow that tells him that Clint had taken good care of you. And when Clint follows after you a few minutes later, Lucky on a leash and Jinx on his arm in her harness and leash, it doesn’t take any extra abilities to know that he’s still devoted. And that he’s similarly pleased with whatever transpired the night before.

When you take the cat from his arms and steal a kiss, the archer smiles, cupping your jaw in his hand affectionately. “Coffee?” he asks.

“That’d be good,” you answer, kissing his palm. 

“You take the kids,” he said, “I’ll bring cups, and we’ll go on a walk.”

You smile, and he visibly melts a little, “I’d hate to put you out,” you tease.

“Eh,” he says, “I’m okay with you being a brat. Because you’re my brat.”

“You’re stuck with me,” you agree, standing on your toes to kiss his jaw.

“I like the sound of that, baby girl,” he kisses you tenderly and hands you Lucky’s leash. The dog is prancing around your feet and anxious to be off. He lets you go, and Lucky half drags you out the door into the chilly morning, giggling and protesting. He watches for a second as you produce his beloved tennis ball from a jacket pocket and let him off his leash so he could run. Jinx curled on a sunspot, watching with her judgemental golden eyes.

“Well,” Steve said, “It looks like you’re not any worse for wear.”

“Nope,” Clint said, “I thought I was gonna be in trouble.”

“You shoulda been,” Bruce scolded, handing him a couple travel coffee cups for the coffee he’s making.

“Got a pen?” Clint asked, looking around. And picking up a coffee collar out of the basket.

“Did you hear me?” Bruce asked, handing him a pen.

“Yes, mom. I did. But we talked about it. I apologized for being a fucking idiot, and-” he trailed off started frantically writing on the coffee collar.

“And?” Bruce prompted.

“And I wrote her a poem,” he said, grinning.

Tony stood on his toes and looked over his shoulder, “Roses are red, the grass is green when I think about you, I touch my peen?” He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Classy, Barton. And this really works for you?”

“It makes her laugh,” he said, shrugging, putting coffee in your mug and handing Bruce his pen back.

“I can’t believe you wasted ink on that,” Bruce sighed, putting his pen back in his pocket. 

“Hey,” he said unrepentantly, “She’s out of my fucking league, but I’ll happily be the Roger Rabbit to her Jessica.” He looked out the door to where you’re on your knees in the grass, trying to teach Lucky to shake and smiled softly. “She’s the only one that can make Lucky behave.”

He gives them all a half-assed salute and smiles, heading towards the door to bring you a cup of coffee and keep you company. 

Steve watches him go and shakes his head, “Why?”

Thor just smiles a little, “He makes her happy. There is no complication. He is who he is, and there is no ulterior motive. Or if there is, it’s so transparent it’s endearing instead of disgusting.”

____________

When Bucky walks into the kitchen from the training room with Sam and Nat, his expression darkens considerably. “Bucky,” Steve says quietly.

“What?” he snaps.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t fair,” he said, “Just let her be.” 

Sam and Natasha trade looks and leave the kitchen, leaving Steve to deal with Bucky. 

“So she gets to murder my kid, and that's fine. Everyone’s just okay with it?” he growls.

“Were you gonna magically quit hating her and help her raise it?” Steve countered. “She made a decision. And she didn’t consult you for a reason... All you did was knock her up. You don’t love her. And you don’t really care about her. You’re just mad that someone else is playing with your toy.”

Bucky frowns, “You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he fired back.

“Maybe not. But I know her,” he said, “She didn’t make this choice lightly, and she deserves to have it respected.”

“Respect,” he spat.

“Yes,” he said firmly, “leave them alone. You blew it, Buck. You were so busy acting like an asshole and plotting that you missed the boat. And Clint was smart enough to realize that he loved her and act on it.”

“I don’t love her!”

“Then why do you care who she’s with?” Steve shot back, frustrated. “Buck, you’re my best friend, but if you think for one second I’m gonna let you torment that girl-”

Bucky half screamed in exasperation, “Why do you like her this fucking much?”

“Because, Bucky,” Steve said slowly, “She reminds me of who you used to be.”

“Bull shit-”

“It’s true,” Steve said, cutting him off, “She tries. She puts a bright face on everything, even if it’s tearing her up inside. Charges headfirst into shit that’ll probably get her killed, and you know what else, she’s fucking loyal. Do you think for one second she’d ever do this kind of shit to someone?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He looks away and looks out the doors where you and Clint are coming back from your walk. You’re up on the low wall, using it like a Balance beam, and Clint had a hold of the hand that isn’t holding Jinx’s leash. He’s looking up at you like you hung the moon. Like he can’t believe you’re actually holding his hand.

“Leave her alone, Bucky,” Steve said quietly, “Or the next time she gets ahold of you, I’ll let her have you. You’d fucking deserve it after all this.”

___________

“Clint?” you ask, hopping off the wall, and perching next to him.

“Yeah?” he answered, idly picking a dandelion that had escaped the wrath of the lawn care crew. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you pick me?” you clarify, snuggling into his side.

“I have a thing for women who could crush me with their thighs.”

“Clinton,” you scold.

He laughed and gave you a crooked smile that made your heart skip a beat and put an arm around you, “Because,” he said after a moment, “You remind me... you make me feel like there’s still shit worth fighting for. You handed me a plate of pizza and shot Tony with a nerf gun, and that was it, babe... I’m just sorry I didn’t figure it out faster.”

“Me too,” you pout.

“But,” he said, kissing your nose, “I’m glad I have you now.” He tucked the dandelion behind your ear and melted as he watched your eyes light up. 

“I love you,” you tell him, turning your head to kiss his palm.

“That so, babygirl?”

You hum in agreement and nestle closer. For a moment, it was all perfect. Everything was fine. 

Until the dulcet tones of Amazing Grace being sung in several different keys oozed over the grass in a slimy cloud of condescension. Clint could hear it, and so he knew it was louder for you. He was willing to bet you could pick out individual voices and tell him who they belonged to. But what broke his heart was your face. 

The mix of emotions. 

Those were people you knew. People who raised you. And right now, they were calling you a monster. They’d built a mock pyre and were shouting about being saved or burning. 

Clint couldn’t even start to identify the look on your face. But he saw the tears welling up, and something snapped. This had to stop. It all had to stop. Because if you deserved nothing else, you deserved peace. Even if he had to go to jail for a minute. 

Tags:  @lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

[kinkykinard]

Expecto Remedium

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: McKirk. Prompt: potions, poisons, and propositions. Word Count: 2596. Rating: all ages. Summary: Hogwarts AU.  When Jim gets himself into a pickle with a jinx gone wrong he solicits a little help from a friend. Note: written for @auduna-druitt‘s End of Year challenge!  Sorry it’s so late!!

Jim cursed as he glanced down at his wand arm, seeing his fingers returning to their normal state of being.  His invisibility spell was wearing off and he was still a good distance away from the dungeons.  Thankfully it was late enough at night that he didn’t have to worry about running into overmany people, but there was always a chance one of the house elves might be up and about.  

Then there was the school’s watchdog, I-Chaya.

Hurrying his pace, Jim ducked behind a row of statues, hiding in shadows and doing his best not to trip over anything.  Thankfully he knew a shortcut from the entrance hall and so he only had a short distance more to creep along before he could dash into a back passage and travel the rest of the way in peace.

Voices drifted in from the other end of the entrance hall as he approached and Jim froze in his tracks behind a suit of armor.  He watched professors Pike and Marcus walk into the room, chatting as they carried on up the grand staircase toward their respective quarters.  He waited a few minutes after they’d disappeared to ensure they were truly gone and then made a mad dash for the tunnel that would take him to the dungeons.

The tunnels were dark, damp, and creepy, but he’d traveled them so many times in past when he’d been late for class that he had no trouble navigating even without the light of his wand.  He followed the steep decline of the narrow, twisting passageway until it opened up into the hallway leading to the potions classroom.  There, the hallway was lit by torches and Jim squinted a little as he adjusted to the light.  He glanced around, finding no signs of life, and dashed from his hiding place, making a beeline for the classroom.

He was surprised to find the door open as he approached the alcove into which the door was recessed.  He paused, leaning in closer, his heart rate climbing a little as he saw a shadow moving inside.  Cursing, he moved to back up in an attempt to avoid detection, but his position was given away in an instant as he stepped on his robe, tripping and smacking into the door, forcing it open with a creak.

“Who’s there?”  A voice from inside called.

Jim sagged in relief; it wasn’t professor Boyce.  It was just another student, one whose voice he was very familiar with.  He straightened up, pushing the door open the remainder of the way and walking into the room with a grin.

“It’s me,” Jim replied, making his way over to where the other boy was working on a potion at the center of the room.

“What are you doing out of bed after hours?”  Leonard asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jim shot back, leaning against the professor’s desk to watch as Leonard stirred a thick, green potion.

“I’m working on extra credit for professor Boyce,” Leonard replied.  “I’ve got permission, but I’m willing to bet my right arm that you don’t.”

Jim shrugged.

“I think it’s oppressive of the system to mandate we get permission to work on additional projects,” he said brightly.  “It puts a damper on our learning and independence, if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you,” Leonard muttered.  “So I’ll ask  you again, what are you doing here?”

Jim pushed off of the desk, walking closer and leaning in to peer at the mixture in the cauldron.  It smelled like pine needles and tickled his nose a bit.  He straightened up again.  When he didn’t immediately respond, Leonard rounded on him.

“Don’t make me play the head boy card,” Leonard drawled.  “I could take ten points from Gryffindor and give you detention; have you scrubbing cauldrons, or worse.”

Jim rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he said lightly.  “I’m not making any trouble, I’m just trying to work on some extra credit of my own.  And it’s good you’re here because I might need some help.”

Leonard didn’t believe him for a second.  He raised an eyebrow.

“What are you up to?”  He asked one more time.

“I need to make a potion that’ll help me get rid of this,” Jim said flatly, giving in.

He held out his hands, palms facing up, to show Leonard the thick carpet of hair that had sprouted there.  Leonard couldn’t hold back a laugh as he took in the problem and he met Jim’s gaze, stifling further guffaws as best he could.

“Why don’t you go see Madam Chapel?”  Leonard asked.  “She’ll put you right in no time.”

“Because she’s going to ask me how this happened,” Jim replied.  “And I’d rather not disclose that, least of all to her.”

“You usually go out of your way to find yourself in the hospital wing so you can ogle her,” Leonard said warily.  “It must be really embarrassing if you’re trying to avoid her.”

Jim gave Leonard a pleading look.

“You’ve got to help me,” he said.  “Hufflepuffs are supposed to be kind and loyal.  I could use a little kindness and loyalty right now.”

Leonard sighed exaggeratedly, putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he said lightly.  “But what’s in it for me?”

Jim chewed his lip, considering.

“I’ll let Chekov get a head start for the snitch at the next quidditch match,” Jim offered eventually.

Leonard snorted.

“He’d string you up if he found out you let him win,” Leonard scoffed.  “And believe me, he’d know.”

Jim leaned against a nearby desk, chewing his lip thoughtfully for a moment.  He leveled a stare on Leonard.

“Dinner in Hogsmeade on our next outing,” Jim proposed.  “On me.”

Leonard considered the other boy’s proposition for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine,” he agreed.  “But we’re going to the Three Broomsticks this time.  I don’t fancy having to half-carry you back up to the hospital wing again if you get into another brawl at the Hog’s Head.”

“Must you suck the fun out of everything?”  Jim asked wryly, earning himself a scowl from Leonard.

The older boy resumed stirring the potion in the cauldron before him, referring to a nearby textbook for reference.  As he worked, he pointed at the shelf of books across the room.

“I need a book,” Leonard instructed.  “Antidotes and Antivenins by Acacius Blatchford.  It’ll be on the right hand side of the top shelf.”

Jim nodded, committing the title to memory and heading off in search of it.  It didn’t take him long to locate, and as he pulled it off of the shelf Leonard called out a page number.  Jim flipped through the tome as he brought it over to a nearby cauldron, looking at the ingredients he would need.

“The page number for this particular potion is an odd thing for you to have memorized,” Jim commented idly as he moved over to the ingredient stores.  “Gotten into some trouble of your own, have you?”

“I’m studying healing,” Leonard replied.  “It’s one of the basic potions I need to master.”

Jim didn’t quite believe him, but he shrugged and carried on.  He gathered supplies as Leonard continued working on his own potion, bringing them over to his cauldron and surveying the lot.  He matched the ingredients with the list of what was required, coming up short by one.

“I’m missing aquavitae,” Jim commented.

“It’s a restricted ingredient,” Leonard explained.  “I’ve got a key to the cabinet.”

He fished it out of the pocket of his robes, holding it out to Jim.  The younger boy took it with a nod of thanks, making his way toward Professor Boyce’s personal stores.  He unlocked the cabinet, surveying its contents, cataloguing them for future reference.  He spotted the aquavitae in a large bottle at the back of the cabinet, reaching for it and pulling it out.  He slipped the bottle into the pocket of his robes and reached back in to snag a few other odds and ends that might come in handy at another time.

“Don’t even think about it,” Leonard interjected, glancing over his shoulder.

Jim rolled his eyes and put whatever he didn’t need back, locking up the cabinet.  He returned to Leonard’s side, setting down his ingredients, grinding some dried roots and leaves into a powder as called for in the recipe.  Leonard watched him from afar, still putting the finishing touches on his own potion.  Jim poured some liquid ingredients into the cauldron per the instructions, but cursed as the ladle slipped in his furry hands, splashing around in the beginnings of his antidote.

“Give it here,” Leonard instructed, extinguishing the fire beneath his own cauldron to allow his potion to cool.  “You’ll make a mess of it.”

Jim huffed.

“I’m perfectly capable of stirring a cauldron, thanks.”

“Don’t get all offended,” Leonard said coolly.  “I’m just trying to help, like you begged me to.”

“I didn’t beg.”

Leonard’s gaze flicked over to Jim for a moment and he arched an eyebrow.  Jim sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I begged,” he said grumpily.  “But only a little.”

Leonard grinned impishly and stirred the cauldron, adding a small aliquot of leech juice before adding the powdered ingredients from Jim’s mortar.  The potion bubbled violently for a few moments before settling, turning a pale, translucent blue color.  Jim consulted the recipe, though Leonard could tell the potion was coming along properly just by its appearance and scent.

The minutes ticked by as the potion simmered, filling the air above the cauldron with a sparkling sheen.  Leonard bottled the potion he’d been working on earlier while Jim added the last couple of ingredients to the antidote, watching them dissolve away to nothing in the brew.  The potion emitted a brief hissing noise, then fell silent.  Jim eyed it somewhat warily as he extinguished the flame beneath it.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”  He asked as Leonard returned to his side.  “Something feels off.”

Leonard glanced into the cauldron, wafting some of the vapors up and giving them a good sniff.

“It smells about right,” he said with a shrug.  “And it’s close to the right color.  You might’ve been off on your measurements with the dry ingredients, but it should work all the same.”

Jim frowned but nodded.  He reached out to grasp the ladle so he could take a dose, but the hair on his palms prevented him from getting an adequate grip.  The ladle fell back into the cauldron with a splash and a clatter, spattering him with some of the potion.  Leonard rolled his eyes.

“Allow me,” he said lightly.

Jim groused a little as Leonard picked up the ladle and held it up so that he could take a mouthful of the potion.  It tasted even worse than it smelled and Jim sputtered as he swallowed, choking on the foul liquid.  Leonard clapped him on the back, encouraging him to cough until his breathing settled down again.  Jim grimaced and glanced at his hands.

“How long is this supposed to take to work?”  Jim asked.

Leonard frowned.

“The effects should be pretty immediate,” he explained.  “Maybe you added a little too much aquavitae, it could be diluted.”

Jim sighed, continuing to stare at his hands.  A few seconds ticked by and the skin on his face began to tingle.  His nose started itching and he glanced down at it, cursing as it began to sprout thick, dusky fur not unlike the coat on his palms.  He reached up, gasping as his nose started to elongate a little, whiskers growing out from the snout.

“What is this?!”  Jim exclaimed.

Leonard had to bite back a laugh.

“Did you add bat wing or bat spleen?”  He asked.

“Wing, I think,” Jim answered, still gingerly prodding at his face.

Leonard nodded, patting Jim’s arm in commiseration.

“The recipe calls for spleen,” Leonard explained.

“So what am I supposed to do now?!”

Leonard pointed to a nearby chair, nudging Jim toward it.

“Sit back while I brew it properly,” Leonard replied.  “Don’t worry, we’ll get you sorted.”

Jim grumbled but did as he was told, parking himself in the chair and watching Leonard work.  The faint glow from the torches on the wall and the flame beneath the cauldron brought a softness and warmth to Leonard’s features that Jim wasn’t accustomed to seeing and he felt his face flush beneath the fur as Leonard’s handsomeness registered.

Leonard worked in a companionable (if slightly awkward) silence for a while, measuring out ingredients with precision, deftly adding them to the cauldron and stirring as per the directions.  It was fascinating to watch, and Jim couldn’t bring himself to look away.  He stared on while Leonard finished up, only glancing away from the other boy’s hands as Leonard extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron.

“Give it a few minutes to cool, then we’ll try it out,” Leonard said softly.

Jim nodded, jumping up to help as Leonard started putting unused ingredients away and washing out cauldrons.  Jim’s grip was still awkward and there wasn’t much he could do without fumbling things, but Leonard appreciated the help nevertheless.  By the time they finished tidying up, the potion was cool enough to drink.  Leonard held the ladle aloft again and Jim flashed him a wary look.

“Go on, then,” Leonard encouraged.  “You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Jim nodded and leaned in to sip the potion off the ladle.  This time, while still unpleasant, it didn’t taste overly bitter or acrid.  It was rather more scintillating, like a carbonated drink.  He wrinkled his nose as the potion’s slight fizz tickled it and pulled away, leaving Leonard to set the ladle aside.

This time the effect was almost immediate.  Jim could feel the hair receding and his nose shrinking back down to normal size.  He looked down at his palms, watching the last of the fur disappear, flexing his fingers experimentally.  He reached up, feeling for any traces of fur left on his face, glad to find none.  He grinned as he glanced up at Leonard again.

“You’re brilliant,” Jim commented.

“You’re welcome,” Leonard said with a chuckle.  “And I’m going to bottle the rest of this up for you lest you need it again.”

Jim laughed and moved to help Leonard now that his hands were hairless and dextrous again.  Between the two of them, clean up was a breeze and they finished quickly, leaving the classroom as spotless as it had been when they’d come in.  As they were getting ready to leave, Leonard approached Jim with a small bottle in his hands, holding it out to the younger boy.

“There are about four more doses in here,” Leonard explained.  “And if you need more than that to get you through to the end of the school year then you’re beyond help.”

Jim laughed, playfully nudging Leonard as they headed for the door.

“Looks like I owe you more than dinner,” Jim said brightly, pocketing the bottle.

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to repay me for my kindness and loyalty,” Leonard teased.  “But right now I’ll settle for letting me walk you back to your dormitory.  You won’t have to sneak around if you’re with me.”

Jim’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

“But I like sneaking around,” he said impishly.

Leonard rolled his eyes.

“Come on, just accept the invitation.  If you behave, I might even kiss you goodnight.”

Jim felt his cheeks flush and he smiled, briefly meeting Leonard’s gaze.

“Deal.”

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @archangels-lollipop @bookcaseninja @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee @lurkch @resistance-is-futile81 @my-life-as-a-fangirl @chook007

[puppetwritings]

Alice, Oh Alice || Jisoo || Pt. 10 (Final)

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 //Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 (Final)

Word Count: 4315

Genre: fantasy, Alice in Wonderland based!au, based on a oneshot (rewritten)

Summary: With a missing princess, a desperate fiancé, and the craziness of Wonderland, you wondered if you would ever make it back home with your head still on your shoulders.

There was a rumor of a coup. An elaborately planned coup the required the disappearance of the princess and the loss of her memory. The rumor died out when the princess didn’t return but slowly, it was coming back. The whispers through the halls, the gossips of the dead; Songs being hummed and nursery rhymes being sang. The townspeople chattered and the servants of the castle ignored them. Their princess wouldn’t do that. Not their princess.

But then…did one ever know what is going on in the hearts of the Hearts Royalty?

As the sharp heels struck the tiled ground, providing a steady metronome for the death march that was being whistled past glossy, red lips, servants rushed to the throne room. Something had happened. The king, royal and regal, had finally collapsed.

…“Finally”?

Why “finally”? Was it expected? Of course, it was expected. There was hope that he would have returned to his normal state of mind when his dearest sister came back but even before that, there was something a little off about him. Nothing could be placed. He wasn’t crazy he was just…not with everyone. He was stable enough to rule, but there was a rumor (yes, another one) saying that he was never suited for the crown. His younger sister was! She could take the hardships. She could handle the madness. And only the strong can handle the madness. Only the strong could embrace it…allow it to consume…and then control it…

But those were only rumors. Rumors weren’t real. Rumors were made to bring the kingdom crashing down, so those who glorified the rumor and continued it would meet an end. They would be beheaded. Thus, the hallway whispers, the songs being hummed, the nursery rhymes being sang—those all stopped. Like the hands on the clocktower, they all stopped. Once in a while, it’d tick again but in the end, it would freeze, just like how time in the Kingdom of Hearts froze…

“But the White Clock Tower isn’t frozen”, you must be thinking. It’s spinning relentlessly…endlessly…but it has. It’s stopped.

When? At exactly 3 o’clock—in the morning—when the princess had rushed in through the doors of her beloved’s chambers and collapsed onto his bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Time had “stopped”. And time only stops for the true ruler.

But back to your brother—or, the king. Back to the king, he had collapsed. A dreadful happening, really, and no one knew how! Or why! Perhaps if they called the doctor they’d soon find out, but people were still pouring into the throne room, marveling at the spectacle. It wasn’t until Lord Seungcheol called for the medic that people hopped onto their toes and realized the gravity of the situation. (People in Wonderland were always a bit slow).

As a background song to this tragic scene was the clicking of the heels and the whistle that sounded remarkably like a funeral march. Was this a prophecy of the king’s passing? If someone dared to jinx the king, then they will be beheaded al…so…oh?...Oh, it’s you. You’re the clicking of the heels and you’re the sound of the whistle. Did you know…all along?

The doors opened to an empty throne room. The king had long been removed with his loyal servants praying that he would survive as you stepped in, your eyes on the figure that sat on the throne, his arms resting on his thighs and his head bowed.

“How’s your day?” you asked, your fingers lightly touching the armor statue standing beside the entrance.

Seungcheol looked up and stood, bowing. “Your Highness—”

“Not good, I take it?”

Seungcheol’s head lowered again. “No…His Majesty—”

“I heard.”

“They said they aren’t sure about his condition yet,” Seungcheol said, frowning worriedly.

“I don’t think he’ll make it.”

Seungcheol eyes widened. “What? How could you say…” His voice trailed off and he stared at you. His skin seemed to pale as realization struck him. “Y-you…do you remember?”

“Enough,” you said, your hand moving down the shaft of the spear the statue held. You let your hand drop to your said and looked at him. “I wasn’t aware that you knew though.”

“I-I…” Seungcheol’s face hardened. “What have you done to him?”

“What I wanted to do in the first place,” you replied, slowly approaching him. “Didn’t you want this too? Isn’t this why you came over?”

“No—”

“It was. But then you got weak. You were supposed to take over but you made a friend of him,” you snapped.

“But what about you? You’re his sister! Don’t you care about that?”

Your face hardened. “He isn’t fit for the throne. I warned him before but he refused to leave.”

“Because he knew you’d be a blood thirsty ruler if he did allow you to rule.”

“Not true.”

“No?”

“I’m not the one that beheads people on a whim.”

“He beheaded those who spoke ill of you.”

“Is that so,” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you being like this?” Seungcheol yelled. “You weren’t like this before. Those were all just rumors and—”

“And maybe I’m just good at acting.”

“Is this why you disappeared? To make it so that Jeonghan wasn’t suspicious of you anymore.”

“Maybe.”

“Does Joshua know about this?”

“Of course, he never knew about it. If he had known about it he wouldn’t have let me go through with it,” you said, not looking at Seungcheol.

“Then why did you go through with it?”

“For the kingdom, Seungcheol. We’re not going to last with an insane king on the throne. He was starting to lose it anyway—couldn’t you tell? You’re by him every day.”

“He was…getting better.”

“That was your real plan, wasn’t it? To wear him down until he couldn’t rule again.”

Seungcheol’s cheeks flushed in anger. “How dare you—he is my friend and he is your brother. And you betrayed him.”

“Think what you want. But after tonight, the throne will be mine,” you said, your voice low and your eyes sharp.

Seungcheol pursed his lips and stepped down the steps. “I guess we’ll have to make it so that you never see it past tonight then.”

You woke up, gasping for breath as Joshua opened the door. He frowned and walked over to you sitting, down on the edge of your bed and pulling you into his embrace. He pushed back the hair the stuck against your forehead and rubbed circles on your back.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I had a nightmare…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, gently, his cheek pressed against your forehead as he rocked you back and forth.

“I want to go home.”

“What?” Joshua frowned, his brows furrowed. “You are home, though. You said you wanted to move in with me...”

“No, home. Like, the other place. Not Wonderland.”

Joshua froze. He sat perfectly still. And then he started again. “Listen, if this is about what Ren did—”

“It isn’t!” you said, pulling away from him and holding him at arm’s length. “I just—I can’t do this! I’m not Alice! I-I’m just Y/N. But every since I’ve come here I feel like I’m becoming a different person—like something’s taking me over and I just…I can’t…”

“…Y/N, this is where you belong…”

“I don’t like it here,” you whispered. “I feel like…I feel like I’m going crazy. And in my dream…”

“Your dream?”

“I dreamt that I…I killed Jeonghan…”

Joshua stayed silent for awhile before he spoke in a confident voice: “You wouldn’t.”

“But maybe I would,” you insisted, panic in your eyes. “This place is doing strange things to me. I don’t belong here, Joshua.”

“But then that means you’ll have to leave again…”

“Then let me leave! I’m don’t think I’m even your fiancée—”

“No,” Joshua interrupted.

“Just listen—”

“I meant I agree…”

You stared at him, a prickle of nervousness. Joshua’s eyebrows were scrunched in concentration. Was he serious or was he joking? Was he only trying to soothe you?

“Alice, she…wasn’t like you. She always seemed to be scheming. It was in her personality, even if she had lost her memory she’d be finding a way to get back to her home but you? You’re helpless.”

“Gee, thanks…”

He stared at you though, with a sad longing that made your heart ache.

“But…maybe that doesn’t mean she’s dead…?”

“It’s part of the plan,” Joshua said, releasing you. You tilted your head in confusion, about to ask him, when his hand came and gave your head a pat. “And you were just an innocent outsider. I’m sorry.”

“Wait, but—were you part of it?”

“Me?” Joshua smiled bitterly. “No…I was just lied to…she knew I’d try to stop her if I knew…I suspect Ren has something to do with this—and the Cheshire Duke…” He looked at you. “I’ll get you home.”

You frowned, your eyes scanning him. “Will you really?”

“You don’t trust me,” Joshua noted, a hint of hurt in his words.

“No, it’s not that it’s just…I don’t know.”

“I’ll get you home,” Joshua reassured you. “Before they try to do anything else.”

“Do you know what they’re actually trying to do?” you asked cautiously.

“They’re…trying to put Alice’s memories in you. It was part of their plan. Alice wanted the throne because she felt Jeonghan was incompetent. We suspected her but she had volunteered to go to the front…I’m sure they took her memories and her soul and stored it away safely before she was killed and now they’re slowly trying to give you those memories.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” you asked, anger beginning to boil inside you until you saw his expression.

“I…I missed her…I’m sorry, it was selfish of me. I knew you weren’t her to begin with and I knew Jeonghan was right but I just wanted to believe…and then I started to…” his voice trailed and he shook himself out of it. He turned to you with determination in his eyes. “I’ll get you home safely, Y/N. Don’t worry. I’ll make it so that they won’t be able to bother you again.”

“And…then what about you? And Chan…and Jeonghan and Seungcheol…”

“We’ll be fine,” Joshua replied with a smile. He reached over and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Go back to sleep for now. I need to go talk to the others to see how we’ll make this work…”

“I can’t come with you?” you asked, watching as he stood.

“Best not. I wouldn’t want you to be in danger after promising you safety,” Joshua said in that forced, chipper way. “Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He pulled back the covers and waited for you to slip under and tucked you in. He rubbed his thumb against your forehead in a gentle and surprisingly loving way. You looked up at him, a strange sadness filling you. “Goodnight…”

“Goodnight,” Joshua smiled and bent down, giving you one last kiss on the forehead, and then he walked to the door, turned off the lights, and left.

“I told you it wasn’t her,” Jeonghan sighed, leaning against his hand as he watched Joshua, who stood, staring out the window.

“But what are we going to do now?” Junhui asked, twiddling his thumbs with a frown on his face. “Are we going to call out Ren and the Cheshire…?”

“If we get rid of her,” Seungcheol slowly said, “Then perhaps they’ll stop.”

“The Duke of Cheshire only every does things for his own entertainment,” Jihoon said. “He might not even be serious about this.”

“So, once Y/N is gone, we’ll have to take care of Ren first,” Junhui mumbled. He glanced at Seungcheol. “What do you think about this?”

“I’m fine with whatever you guys decide,” Seungcheol replied.

Jeonghan’s eyes stayed on Joshua. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine…”

“You can go with her.”

The boys looked at Jeonghan, eyes wide.

“It’s not that serious,” Joshua said.

“But you still like her, don’t you? She’s much better than my sister, I’ll give her that.”

“Just because she didn’t try to kill you?” Seungcheol asked.

“No, no, not just because of that,” Jeonghan waved him off. Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Okay, yeah, well, I guess it plays a part, but she seems sweet.”

“She wouldn’t want me to follow. She doesn’t want to be part of this world. And I am, so she wouldn’t want me to be part of her life,” Joshua said, his voice becoming a mumble as he spoke. The boys stared at him, unsure of how to comfort to him. “So, how will we get her out?”

“That’ll be easy.”

“It will?” Junhui looked up at Jeonghan.  

“Of course, it will be. Take her to the White Clock Tower. There’s a portal there, open it, and just toss her in there.”

“She’s not baggage, Jeonghan. You can’t just toss her.”

“She is to us, right now. Ren thinks he has our kingdom wrapped around his finger. If we hadn’t been suspicious before, I would have died earlier,” Jeonghan said. He looked at his bandaged finger with distaste. “How dare he poison my roses…”

Seungcheol turned to Joshua. “But does that sound like a good plan to you?”

Joshua frowned but nodded slowly. “If anything were to happen we can just defend her. And Chan can work his magic and she’ll have forgotten about us.”

“But how did she know us in the first place?” Junhui asked. “She had memories, didn’t she? Are you guys sure she isn’t Alice?”

“She isn’t,” Jeonghan said. “When Alice was killed, she probably scattered some of her memories into that world to find a suitable host and she just happened to be unlucky…unfortunate girl, poor thing.”

Joshua nodded slowly. “Yeah…she isn’t…”

“You sound disappointed,” Jeonghan noted. “Are you sure you don’t want to go—”

“Yes, Jeonghan, I’m sure,” Joshua said, snapping out the king’s name.

“Well,” Jeonghan sighed. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

The counsel fell into silence until Seungcheol cleared his throat. “So, when should we…”

“Soon. We’ll have to do it before they notice something is up. I’ll tell her the plan tomorrow morning and we can start moving out at night,” Joshua said, his eyes shifting as he began to calculate.

Jeonghan yawned. “Sounds good. Now, shall we go back to bed?”

Junhui nodded, his eyes blurred with sleep.

Seungcheol sighed, “You guys really have no sense of urgency…”

“I’m the king.”

“I’m just…tired,” Junhui mumbled, sitting up straight as he stretched.

Joshua chuckled and stood as well. He bowed to Jeonghan, grabbed his top hat, and exited, heading back to his room and slipping under the covers with you, who immediately curled against him.

You look around hesitantly but followed Joshua closely. You glanced at him once in a while but it was strange to see him dressed without his hat, not wearing his flashy Mad Hatter outfit. His hair was still the pinkish grapefruit color that it had slowly faded to and he still seemed vibrant without all the external decorations. But he didn’t feel the same. It was almost like he stripped himself of a costume and now stood, bare, with only one goal.

“Why are you staring at me?” Joshua asked, amusement in his voice.

“Huh?” you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up, realizing that he was watching you. “Oh, um…you just…look different.”

“Weird?”

“No, just different.”

He smiled. “If I wore my regular clothes out, they’d notice me in a second. At least now, the change in wardrobe would give people some hesitation. It’ll buy us more time.”

You nodded, though weren’t entirely convinced of how much time it would buy. You stared at the ground, carefully avoiding the sticks that would crack and make noise. You glanced up at Joshua again who stared forward silently. You frowned, wondering what he was thinking about but not sure if you should ask.

The tower was still far away but slowly, it had started to tick again with the proper time. The people of the Kingdom of Hearts were surprised, but glad. If it had continued much longer, they feared what might happen.

“So, what will happen after I leave?” you asked, stepping over a branch.

“We’ll try to get Ren to leave. We might go back to war…but without you the Spades might forfeit. They don’t need this fight. They have enough resources in their own kingdom and from what I hear their people are getting restless from the taxes,” Joshua said.

You nodded slowly and uncertainly. “But when I go back…will I ever get to see you again?”

Joshua got silent, allowing the crunching leaves below your feet fill the silence. “No.”

“Oh…”

“But you wouldn’t remember us anyway.”

“I won’t?”

“Once you’re out of Wonderland you would think that it’s all been a long, mystical dream.”

“Ah…”

“Plus, why would you want to remember us? You wouldn’t be able to come back to us anyway…it’d only be a sad longing,” Joshua said and softly added, “Like losing a loved one.”

“But you guys would remember me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t you guys miss me too?”

“I suppose,” Joshua mumbled.

“You wouldn’t miss me?”

“If I admit it, I might miss you more.”

You closed your mouth and pursed your lips. He smiled a little, finding your awkward response endearing.

“Are we almost there?”

“Do you see the tower?”

“No.”

“Then you’ve answered your own question.”

“Right…”

“You don’t have to make conversation, Y/N,” Joshua said, chuckling in amusement. He glanced back at you, his smile making your heart skip a beat. Something that you had gotten used to.

“Yeah, well, I want to. I’m going to miss talking to you.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t remember me.”

“But it’d feel like something would be missing,” you mumbled. “So, I just want to get as much conversation as we can.”

He sighed, ruffling your hair. “Don’t think like that. If you keep thinking like that you might actually remember me somehow.”

You looked down, avoiding his gaze. You couldn’t tell him that you wanted to.

“Just a little further,” his words jerked you from your mind again and you looked up. The clock tower was nearing. “And then we just have to walk a little past and we’ll get there. Chan’s already unlocked the portal so all we have to do is open it and you can hop on through.” He turned back and gave you a smile. “You’re almost home.”

You had craved to hear those words the past few days but now that you could actually hear them, your chest began to ache—especially hearing it coming from Joshua. But you forced a smile. “That’s great.”

Joshua nodded, smiling once more before looking ahead. He lost his smile once he wasn’t facing you.

The rest of the way was spent in silence. It was somber, coated with a silent sadness that both of you shared. You sighed quietly to yourself. You didn’t belong here and if you were to stay, you would cause trouble to the others. Your chest tightened as you recalled that you wouldn’t remember them anyway. So, it wouldn’t matter to begin with. If you couldn’t remember them, you wouldn’t want to see them again.

“We’re here.”

Already? You looked up as Joshua walked over to a tree and pressed his hand to it. A familiar portal opened, quietly humming and allowing light to spill from its depth. Joshua turned back around to look at you, a forced and sad smile on his face.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah…ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” Joshua smiled, his hand landing on your head for the last time.

You felt yourself tearing up but you hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Joshua.”

“Hey…don’t be like this,” he chuckled, patting your back. “You won’t know, I guess, but maybe I can come to visit.”

“Will you…?”

“Maybe,” he smiled, reassuringly. “I’ll try.”

You nodded. If he’ll try, he’ll succeed. Joshua wasn’t the type of person to suggest something that he wouldn’t be able to do.

“Now go on—”

His words were interrupted. The sad smile melted from his face and his eyes widened as he looked behind you. You turned in confusion but Joshua pulled you back, making sure you couldn’t see the monster that was slowly approaching. But you could hear it. The sound of its large paws crunched the leaves and the twigs that had burdened you on the way here.

Joshua cupped your face and smiled. “You have to leave now, okay?”

“But what about—”

“I’ll be fine. Remember? I helped you out that one time.”

“It sounds bigger—”

Joshua gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and gave you one last reassuring smile. “Be safe. I’ll be safe too and I’ll come visit you.”

“Josh—”

He released you and turned around before pushing you forward into the portal and soon you were enveloped in a luminous purple. The last thing you saw was a creature emerging from the shadows and Joshua turning around before everything faded to black…

Your eyes slowly peeled open and you were faced with blinding florescent lights. You squinted at them and your head slowly turned to the left where you found your friend sleeping, slumped over. You reached towards her but your hand moved slowly, almost weakly. She woke before you got there and she stared ahead, disoriented for a second before she looked at you, her eyes widening.

“Y-you’re awake…you’re awake! Oh my gosh, Y/N, you’re awake!” she squealed, standing. “I’ll go call the doctor. Stay right here—well, I mean, okay, you can only stay here—I’ll be back.”

You watched as she rushed out without giving you answers.

The doctors came and they went. Your friend told you that you got into a car accident and you had been out several months. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t feel like you had been out a couple months. You felt…you don’t know how you felt. Not part of this world? It was odd. Almost like déjà vu as well. You sighed and listened as your friend sobbed, chatting on and on about how much she wished you but you felt unsettled. Like you were missing something…someone…

“How long do I have to stay in the hospital again?”

“A few more days,” your friend sniffled. “You need a checkup too.”

You nodded.

“Why? Are you in a rush to leave?”

“I’ve been out for a few months. Of course, I’m in a rush to leave,” you mumbled grumpily.

Your friend nodded. You made a good point. It wasn’t unreasonable. But those next few days crawled by, terribly slowly. It wasn’t until the fourth day that you were finally packing up your bags which your friend had dropped off and you were allowed to go home.

You sighed, exiting the hospital that you don’t remember entering. The world seemed brighter but less vibrant. The sound of the cars and the tall buildings annoyed you. You weren’t sure why but nothing felt right. It felt like you had done this before already—that it was only a tape being replayed. You weren’t sure why. You couldn’t put your finger on it.

Soon, your life returned to normal, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were forgetting something.

You sat at the café silently, staring ahead. Déjà vu…a feeling that some memories were missing…it was like some lame sci-fi story. You shook yourself. You lived the car accident and that’s all that mattered. Your phone blinked and light up with the text from your friend, telling you that she was here to pick you up. You stood, packing your things, and turned as you were zipping the bag.

“Ah!”

Your stuff fell to the ground and your eyes widened.

“Oh, gosh, I am so sorry,” a velvety voice apologized.

You felt an irritation grow in you as you bent down and grumbled out an “It’s okay”, but the boy who bumped into you bent down as well.

“Really, I’m really sorry. I should have looked.”

“No, I should have looked. I was the one coming out from my seat.”

“Still…” he handed you your notebooks.

“Thank you,” you stood, shoving your things back into your backpack and zipping it up before you grabbed your laptop.

“No problem,” came his soft reply.

You glanced over and your heart stopped. He looked…familiar. His skin was slightly tanned and his lips were ruby red. His hair was…different—no, not different. Just unfamiliar, unlike the rest. His hair was jet black, dusting against his eyebrows and his mouth was set into an unsure frown.

“It’s really okay,” you said.

“Yeah…um…can I buy you a drink?” he asked, eyes flitting to your empty cup. “To make up for it?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine, I have to meet up with my friend.”

“Oh…”

“But…next time?” you asked.

His eyes widened and his face lit up in a smile. “Y-yeah! Yeah, sure. Then…can I get your number?”

You nodded and pulled out your phone, holding your hand out for his. You tapped in your number into his phone and once he put in his you smiled and looked at his name. “Joshua Hong?”

He nodded. “And you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I’ll see you later then?”

Joshua nodded, smiling brightly. “I’ll see you later.”

Joshua watched as you left and let out a relieved sigh before walking to his spot by the window. Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his copper hair pushed out of his face. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Oh, shut up,” Joshua mumbled, but he smiled at his phone.

Jeonghan sighed, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. “You’re hopeless. So? Are you staying?”

Joshua glanced at the door. “Yeah…I’ll stay for a bit.”

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Mission Impossible 4.

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 1766

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Thirty Seven.

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Maggie.

"Everything set?" Kate Kaplan asked next to me, I looked in my purse and handed her a picture.

"Yes, everything except that f-"

"Language" she reprimanded me.

"Effing" I corrected "horse statue".

She took the picture and walked to the door where she intercepted Raymond.

The walls, letters on them, the tiles on the floor, decorations, lights, furniture, everything was set.

Raymond talked with Kate for a few seconds and then walked inside, inspecting everything.

He motioned at me to the door that was supposed to be Dr. Huffnaggel's office, behind him was Aram clutching his laptop to his chest.

"I need you to access the elevator system to make sure that when that agent presses 6, the elevator takes them to 8, where we'll be waiting."

He talked to Aram some more, and while he set up near the wiring that connected to the systems, he turned to speak to me

"You've done a magnificent job Maggie. Thank you"

"Thank you, I've always wanted to play Mission Impossible."

He frowned at me, I rolled my eyes a bit. Just like Donald.

"In Mission Impossible 4, they change the numbers of the Abu Dhabi building to fool a buyer. Though this is like, a whole other level."

Raymond kept his eyes for me for a bit.

"I'm sorry. I know me telling Ressler about Samar was what led to Liz's arrest. But I wasn't going to lie on her behalf. Not to Donald"

"I understand that. I already ask you to lie for me and the fact that you're still helping, the fact that you're loyal, means a lot to me"

I gave him a small nod and looked to the side.

"Everything is set so, I should bounce. I told my sister I was only going to be out for two hours. You've got this from now on right?"

"I do. Thank you Maggie"

I smiled a little and walked past him, giving him a slow pat on the shoulder as I exited the room.

Once I was out and back home, I checked my messages before entering the house.

I knew Don was probably busy, but I was worried about him, he hadn't come back to sleep last night and he needed to eat and such. Or maybe I was worrying too much.

When I opened the door Talia greeted me with a big smile. I smiled down at her and closed the door behind me.

"Hey cupcake, what are you up to?" I said placing my hand on her head.

"Are we going out soon?"

"Yes, we are, let me check on your mom and dad and we'll go out. Where do you wanna go?" I gently pushed her towards the kitchen where I was going to get something fresh to drink.

Madison and Ethan were up, having breakfast was Ella and Nathan on the dinning table.

"When's Uncle Don going to be home?" Talia asked looking up at me. I could only make her sit at the table and move to sit beside her

"I wouldn't know sweety, I'll call him to see if he can join us today, but he can definitely join us tomorrow" I assured.

After this whole thing Donald better get a day off tomorrow.

It was a beautiful sunny day outside and we spent it flying kites and having a picnic near the Lincoln memorial and the Potomac park, the girls had fun and I spent the evening holding my little nephew, that way my sister could also rest.

My sister really knew how to bring the moral down, as soon as we went back to the house she sat me down in the lounge chairs in my back yard, and told me

"I want to sell the house"

I understood, I really, really did. My sister's family was getting bigger, she needed the space, Nathan had his crib in her bedroom and my nieces shared the room.

I really got it, but that was the house both of us took our first steps, we did our kindergarten, middle, and highschool homework on that living room, where we threw parties with and without my family, where my dad fended off two burglars when we were twelve, where my sister threw her bachelor party and I had my graduation dinner. That house had my dad written all over it and I didn't wanted to let any of that go.

I couldn't stay next to my sister after that, because I knew she would state the case on why we should sell it, and she would make sense. My 'i don't want to' would be illogical and childlike, so I left

I don't know why I always took off after a fight or a confrontation, but I did.

I didn't get very far, I was about to cross the third block street when I was startled by screaching on the pavement, then a car next to me turned on reverse.

The tainted window rolled down and I saw Don looking at me with a frown. Great.

I walked to the window and gave him a little smile

"Hi"

"Where are you going?"

I just made a gesture with my hand and made something up while I crossed my arms at my chest.

"I was going to get ice cream for dessert" that was a stupid lie, I didn't have my wallet on me and I couldn't tell him to drive back, I didn't wanted to see my sister, not now.

"The nearest ice cream shop is 10 blocks away" he pointed out.

"I know, I wanted to walk"

"Get in" he said leaning to the passenger door and opening up for me.

"It's okay, I wanted some fresh air" I said closing the door again.

He roller the window back up, then stopped the car.

I saw him walk around it and beep the alarm on. I just couldn't believe how stubborn he was about getting me to talk, but I appreciated it.

He just held my hand in his and walked the remaining 7 blocks in silence, I didn't wanted to bring more situations down to him, not now that he'd finally finished this hunt stuff.

Once we were in the door of the ice cream shop, I stopped and stood in front of him.

"I lied" I confessed.

"I know, but we're here, so might as well" he grabbed me by the waist and led me in. We sat in one of the booths on the back of the shop.

It was surprising how much Don knew me, most of the times I thought he was oblivious to a lot of things, but he was actually very perceptive. He ordered himself a coffee and he ordered me the most disgustingly sweet, diabetic coma inducing ice cream there was on the menu. I ate it all, of course, because sweet things were my thing, and the sweeter, the better.

Donnie just quietly and patiently sat next to me in the booth while I spooned away at the ice cream, giving him a few glances. Halfway done I just looked at him defeated and sighed.

"I don't want to talk about it right now" I said, he moved his hand from my waist to my cheek and pulled me in by the chin to his lips

"I know" he gave me one short kiss "but that doesn't mean you have to be alone." He cupped my cheek with his hand, rubbing slowly my cheekbone with his thumb. "I'm here, just like you were there for me when I also didn't wanted to talk about anything"

With one last sweet kiss on my forehead, he pulled back but still held me by the waist and closer to him.

Once we were done there we did get some ice cream for dessert, then trekked back to my place.

I really didn't wanted to jinx this family visit with what my sister brought up, so I just focused that next day on having a great time with my nieces, or rather tried, they were all over Donald as soon as we came to my place, playing Guess Who with them and Monopoly with me Ethan and Talia, the oldest one.

The night before my sister left, while I was sitting in our bed and watched how brushed his teeth with the door open, realized that maybe I was being a little selfish with the house thing but I also wanted someone to validate me in not wanting to sell it.

When Don finished and walked in the bedroom, turning off the light on his way out, I began to fidget with my hands.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked, he sat down in the bed next to me and moved to covers to scoop in closer.

"Of course, what's wrong?"

The sentence came out right. "My sister wants to sell my dad's house" but the implications, and everything that meant, it made my chin tremble.

"And you don't want to?" He asked, I looked at him and gave him an obvious look

"Of course I don't want to" I declared "you don't know the amount of things that have gone down in that house, literally my whole life, my dad's life. He's still in that house to me, how can she even think to sell it?"

"Well" he said, I just sunk down in the pillows and covered myself with the sheets. He snuck his arm below my neck and pulled me to his chest, holding me by the back and cuddling me to his chest. "If the money the house gets why don't you buy her half from her and keep the house to yourself?"

I just made a twist of lips and held myself closer to him.

"Mags?"

"I panicked okay? I didn't think about that"

He snorted a laugh and patted my back

"Don't laugh at me" I scolded him, lifting my head up and giving him a frown. He really tried to not laugh at my disproportionate angry state, and he did it, he gave me a short nod, but I knew that as soon as I placed my head back on his shoulder her let out a little smirk. "So, what should I do?"

"It's my rightful duty as your boyfriend to be on your side, so no, don't sell the house."

"And rationally?"

"If it has to happen Mags, it will. You might just be delaying the inevitable"

I just twisted my lips in distaste.

"Everyone is trying to ruin my goddamn future wedding"

[yatorihell]

In the Darkness Chapter 7 - Wintertide

Words: 2,376

Summary: Chapter 7 of the Harry Potter AU! Yato tries flattery and Yukine is adamant that he will not celebrate his birthday.

Previous chapter | First chapter

Thank you to @themusicalbookworm for beta-ing me!

Dedicated to @brimicky101 happy birthday!!!! <3<3<3

Read on AO3

The apparent new-founded friendship that had formed between him, Hiyori and Yukine meant that Yato would come up to them casually and strike up a conversation. Although both Hiyori and Yukine had caved in, they were in agreement that Yato would be good for extra lessons seeing as his face made a perfect target.

Yato wandered into the Grand Hall surprisingly early, finding the tables were still laid with food as not many students had come along for breakfast yet. However, one face he could always count on to be there was Hiyori. Almost every day for the past week he would come up to the Gryffindor table and smirk under Bishamon’s annoyed gaze, Hiyori’s protection enough for his rival to bite her tongue and turn away in disgust.

It seems it wasn’t needed at this hour as Monday mornings were reserved for ‘special seeker training’, as he heard Bishamon call it. Yato walked over to the table, watching Hiyori as she slowly chewed on a piece of toast whilst flicking the pages of a newspaper. She didn’t look up as he came up behind her, engrossed in whatever new article that had caught her attention. Yato leaned over her shoulder slightly, seeing that the newspaper was the slightly ill-reputed ‘Daily Prophet’. Cocking his head to the side, he read an extract of the double-page spread.

Break in at Gringotts

Believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown, Gringott’s goblins have acknowledged a break in and says nothing was taken. Its reported that nothing was taken as the breached vault – 717 - was emptied the same day.

Yato frowned. Vault 717… why was that so familiar? Yato pushed the gnawing feeling from his stomach, instead deciding to make his presence known to the paper’s owner.

“That looks interesting.” Yato said quite loudly, grinning as Hiyori jumped out of her skin and dropped her toast. Hiyori twisted around on the bench as Yato sat down beside her in his usual straddle position, picking up a piece of toast for himself.

“Mmh-hmp!” Hiyori’s words were muffled by the buttery toast in her mouth, so she opted to crossly glare at him.

“Good morning to you too.” Yato said carefreely, biting into his toast.

Hiyori turned back to the paper, silent as she chewed down the last of her toast and proceeded to ignore the annoyance that was watching her.

“You have Professor Zucchini again today don’t you?” Yato said around a mouthful of food. Hiyori gave a small sigh, confirming it. She paused mid page-turn, sudden confusion on her face.    

“Why do you call him Professsor Zucchini?” Hiyori asked, baffled at the ridiculousness of the name.

Yato smirked.

“It annoys him,” he said simply, “and I don’t like zucchinis.”

Hiyori gave him a look as if she had just discovered that he was a single cell organism that had somehow managed to get accepted into Hogwarts regardless of intelligence.

Well, perhaps he was.

“Maybe zucchinis don’t like you either.” A new voice from behind her caught her by surprise. Yukine sat down on the other side of her, sandwiching her between himself and Yato. “Hiyori, have you practiced the spell for class today?”

Hiyori groaned. She’d totally forgotten to review the Knockback Jinx after her success with Yato.“I’ll be fine, if I can do it once I can do it again.”

“That’s the spirit,” Yato butted in, leaning over to grab another slice of toast. “Wands know what they’re doing, even if the owner is a klutz.”

Hiyori opened her mouth in surprise. Was he really going to insult her magic every time they met? Before she could rebuke his words, Yukine interrupted.

“That’s true, you know.” He admitted.

Yato beamed at him, happy that he was being backed up. He tapped his finger on the desk impatiently as he swallowed his mouthful and broke into his I-know-what-I’m-doing mood.

“Show me your wand.” He instructed Hiyori.

Hiyori pulled it out of her satchel and held it up for Yato’s inspection. He plucked it out of her grip, balancing it between his fingers and thumbs as he critically analysed it. Brown. 10 ¾ inches. He gave it a slight bend as if testing its flexibility.

“Unyielding, so it’s very loyal to its original owner. Quite good for combat and healing.” He twirled it between his fingers, listless thinking about the qualities and what it told him about Hiyori. He practically knew what all wand woods, cores and flexibilities meant and their tendencies. Perhaps it was time to get in Hiyori’s good books.

“Only smart wizards get wands like these,” he continued before pausing for effect, “or witches.”

Yato concealed a smile as he felt Hiyori’s gaze on him, attentive and intrigued. He continued to lather on the positives, talking about the finer details.

“This is cherry, right?” he said, already knowing the answer.

Hiyori nodded, clearly impressed at his knowledge of wands. “With dragon heartstring.”

Yato ‘ahh-ed’, feigning wisdom and awe as he held the wand out in front of him. “It has a very strong power. Cherry and dragon heartstring requires great self-control and strength of mind.”

He tilted his wrist back, offering the wand back to Hiyori with a reassuring, confident smile. “If you can do a spell once, you can do it again.”

“Fancy giving some words of wisdom to me, or are you just flirting?” Yukine cuts in irritably, leaning over Hiyori with his own wand extended to Yato.

At a glance it’s unremarkable. Brown, 9 ¼ inches. Picking it up, Yato looks at it thoughtfully. “Hazel and… phoenix feather?”

Yukine grunts a ‘yes’, watching as Yato dangerously bends the wand so hard he fears it would snap.

“Brittle.” He taps it against his finger before rolling it back across the desk. “No wonder your magic is so unreliable, hazel reflect its master’s emotional state.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yukine says in a raised voice, making Hiyori glance nervously at him. Just when they started to get along, Yukine was about to snap back to his past self.

“It means that if you don’t simmer down, Puff, your wand will never do what you want.” Yato says, cheer devoid in his voice as his tone rises to match Yukine’s. “Your wands loyalty reflects your own, so don’t be surprised when it backfires on you.”

Yukine is about to explode with a fresh tirade of colourful language that no eleven-year-old should know when Hiyori puts her hand on his arm, placating him. Hiyori kicks Yato, hard, in the shin under the table. With a yelp, he scowls at her and opens his mouth to complain, but is silenced with a look that could stop even a child from misbehaving. Silently and discreetly, she mouths two words.

Be. Nice.

Yato’s lip curls slightly. ‘Owners of these wands are also cynical, unlucky and have insecurities’ is the next phrase he wants to spit out, but he knew that Hiyori’s intervention was right. They couldn’t keep fighting like this. He reluctantly offers what he would call a compliment to Yukine, who had angrily torn into a piece of cold toast.

“Owners of this wand are clever and thoughtful; transfiguration and non-verbal spells are their forte.” He says begrudgingly, looking away as Hiyori’s expression softens at his attempt to be friendly. “They are weak to extravagant magic so their magic is normally simple yet powerful.”

Yukine grunts a response, pretending to have too much in his mouth to give a proper answer. An uncomfortable silence settles over the trio. In an attempt to break the tension, Hiyori turns her attention to Yato’s own wand.

“So, what kind of wand do you have?” she asks curiously, the secrets of wands being revealed to her in a much greater detail than they were by Mr Olivander at the wand shop in Diagon Alley.

“Ah,” Yato grins, chest puffing out in pride as he produces his wand with a flourish. Hiyori tentatively reaches out to it, silently asking permission to hold it. Yato gives it to her, and she takes it, somewhat carefully. She stares at it for a moment, admiring the pattern engraved into the ebony wood in such fine detail that it must have been specially made. Then, she looks at Yato, waiting for him to explain it, and he does so readily.

“Blackthorn, phoenix feather, 13 ½, hard.” He lists off the basics before somewhat narcissistically describing what qualities the wand – or rather, himself – possessed.

“It’s used by gifted warriors, the best aurors in the wizarding world. It only accepts those who have proved themselves worthy and faced danger. It will never accept another master; it is loyal as a dog.”

“Its owner is also close-minded and stubborn,” a tall boy is standing behind Yato, peering down at him from behind his black framed glasses. The blue fabric peeking out from his robes hood tells Hiyori he is a Ravenclaw. Yato tilts his head back, a quip ready to throw back at his… friend?

“Kazuma, you’re so cruel. We all know you’re the close-minded one.” Yato hits back, not missing a beat at his interruption.

Kazuma ignores this, instead turning to smile at Hiyori and Yukine who had been watching this exchange with surprised expressions.

“I’m Kazuma. Second year student and Ravenclaw’s Seeker.” He says politely, “and you are…?”

Hiyori and Yukine both introduce themselves in a star-struck manner, floored at how this Seeker was a polar opposite to the Slytherin Seeker they had managed to befriend. He gave a them another smile before turning back to Yato and giving him a lecture about the importance of contributing to class projects, earning an eye roll and a disinterested wave of the hand from Yato as he promised to start his share of the work.

“Good god he’s a bore,” Yato grumbled, pouring himself a glass of orange juice from one of the crystal cut glass jugs on the breakfast spread. “He should be focusing on the exam.”

Hiyori’s heart flipped. Exams. The test. Next week.

“Oh, shoot!” she cried out, spinning around to face Yukine’s bewildered expression. “Yukine, have you started studying for the test?”

“Nope,” he said, “I don’t plan on being in class that day.”

Puzzled, Hiyori asked: “Why not?”

“It’s my birthday, I’m having a day off.”

“A birthday?” Yato cuts in, mostly drawn to the idea of cutting class – which wasn’t new to him, “Fantastic, let’s have a party.”

“Absolutely not! We have a test!” Hiyori says, slightly horrified at the idea of skipping class.

Yukine lets out a groaning noise, wishing he’d never said anything. The last thing he wanted was inviting cause for celebration, or to be monitored by Hiyori that day to ensure he sat the test.

“No party, no test.” He says, pushing himself up from the table decisively and quickly walking out of the hall, Hiyori’s calls for him falling on deaf ears. Sighing, Hiyori swings her legs over the bench, picking up her satchel and readjusting her robe.

“May as well go to class now. I have to talk some sense into Yukine.” She says exasperatedly.

Yato raises his half-empty glass to her back in a salute as she brushes past sleepy-eyed students who have finally emerged for breakfast, turning left once she is out of the room.

“Good luck.”

~

After much nagging over the weeks leading up to his birthday, Hiyori convinced Yukine to sit the test on the condition that there would be no party or hint of celebration.

Of course, Hiyori completely ignored this and produced a slightly lopsided cake from her cauldron after the classroom had been vacated. Yato – making the executive decision to skip his own class and lurk outside – glided into the room at the promise of free food as Yukine began to protest.

“I said no celebration!” he grumbled. He tried to avoid looking at the snow-white icing of the cake which had begun to drip onto the floor.  

“But it’s your birthday!” Hiyori whined, tilting the cake precariously to avoid any more spillages.

Yukine pursed his lips. He stole a glance behind her at Yato who raised his eyebrows before his gaze slid back to Hiyori.

Her wide-eyed, innocent expression and downturned mouth melted his resolve pretty quickly as he turned red at the look she was giving him. Defeated, he flopped back down into his seat.

“Fine,” he huffed. “We’ll have cake.”

Hiyori’s face immediately lit up. She plonked the cake down on the table before rummaging in her bag for something. Yato ambled over and sat down on the desk, eyeing the cake impatiently. It looked like Hiyori had tried to use some sort of spell to make the icing shimmer like snow crystals, but hadn’t quite worked out. Aside from that, the cake was pretty simple, small and round as if made for an intimate occasion rather than a party.

Yato reached out to swipe a bit of dripping icing, but was sharply slapped on the hand by Hiyori who had pulled a cake knife and a slim wooden box wrapped in a red ribbon from her bag. presented the parcel to Yukine and eagerly watched as he opened it. Craning his neck, Yato leaned to look over Hiyori’s shoulder to see what she had given Yukine.

“A quill?” Yato said, unimpressed. Hiyori passively waved a hand at him, silencing his doubts as she waited for Yukine’s reaction. He had taken it out of the box, careful not to bend or break the feather. It was yet again simple and snow white like the cake, but was speckled with flecks of grey and decorated with a silver nib.

“I noticed your quill was a bit…” Hiyori searched for a word which wasn’t as bad as ‘shabby’, “worn. So, I thought a new one would be helpful.”

Yukine had a small smile on his face as he gently twirled the quill between his fingertips, something Yato hadn’t seen Yukine do before.

“Thank you,” he murmured, delicately placing the quill back into the case and stashing it in his bag. Hiyori smiled at him, handing him the cake knife before dragging a chair between him and Yato who was eyeing the cake yet again.

“Shall we?”

[rogueslove]

I have about 2K words of a Rogue Evo fanfic first draft that I am never going to finish, so I’m putting it up here for anyone to take.  Do what to you want to it, just give me credit somewhere for it, and send me a link so I can see what you come up with.

Hank McCoy looked over his chart for the fifth time, bewildered by what he saw.  “Rogue,” he started tentatively, looking at the teenage mutant sitting restlessly on the examination bed, “I’m not sure how to tell you this. . . in fact, I’m not sure how this is possible. . .”

Rogue let out a huff and tossed back her brown and platinum hair.  She was feeling crummy and waiting around the med lab for two hours while Hank performed every medical test known to mankind had put the already moody girl in particularly nasty temper.  “Out with it, Beast.”

He tried to sooth her with a gentle smile but got only a belligerent stare in response.  “It appears, my dear, that you are pregnant.”

Rogue’s apathetic visage disappeared, replaced by utter shock, her mouth agape.  Hank continued, “I assure you I have double-checked the results.  Of course, I was initially as confounded as you.  I am assuming that you have not been entirely forthright about your control of your powers.”

“Ah . . . uh . . .” Rogue stammered, still in shock, “Yeah.  Ah’m . . . Ah’m sorry Mr. McCoy.”

“There is no need to apologize,” he whispered. “You just presented me with a medical mystery the likes of which has of been seen for two thousand years,” he continued, attempting to lighten the mood to no avail.  A cursory glance at the girl’s bewildered and frightened eyes made it clear she was still trying to take in the information.  “If there is anything I could do for you . . .” he quietly gulped before bringing up his biggest concern, “Perhaps get the father of the child to come see you.”

She snapped out of her daze suddenly, “No!”

“Rogue, if someone has hurt you—”

“It ain’t like that Mr. McCoy.  Ah was stupid, but Ah didn’t do anything Ah didn’t want to.”  She inhaled deeply, fighting the tears forming in her eyes. “We were careful, Ah swear we were,” she said more to herself than to Beast.

The blue mutant nodded and asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Ah—” She wiped away a tear from her eye and sniffled, “Ah don’t know what ta do yet.  Ah gotta think.  But could ya tell the professor?  Ah just . . . can’t.  But he should know, since Ah doubt he’ll want me fighting with the X-Men, or training with them in the Danger Room . . . he might want me ta leave.”  She chocked as she bit out the last words.

Beast slowly brought his arms around the now weeping girl, “Now, now, Rogue.  I’m certain he will not do that.  I am sure that he wants what is best for you, just as all of us do. I will tell him, but let’s get you to your room.  You need your rest.”

Rogue nodded weakly and let Hank guide her to her room, both of them thankful that it was dinner time and that they didn’t run into anyone else on their way. Beast tucked Rogue into her bed, gave her a reassuring smile, and left to find Professor Xavier.  Working at a boarding school full of hormonal teenagers, Hank was well aware that he might eventually have to deal with one of the girls getting pregnant.  But he was surprised it had happened now, and to the one girl who was thought to be utterly untouchable.

 Rogue had fallen asleep before her roommate Kitty came back to their room after dinner, but not before a long crying jag punctuated by serious consideration over her predicament. She had decided nothing, but had come to terms with her situation.  Since she had fallen asleep so early, she woke before dawn and quietly began getting ready for school when the Professor mentally called her.

‘Rogue, if you have a few minutes, would you join Mr. McCoy and me a half hour before you have to depart for school.’

‘Sure, professor.’

Rogue went through her morning routine in a daze, acting on autopilot.  Gazing down at her dry toast, she realized she had to head over to the professor’s study.  She wondered if she would ever be welcome in the mansion again.  She timidly knocked on the door.

“Come in, Rogue,” Xavier’s sage voice sounded through the door.

Rogue hesitantly drudged in and took a seat on the long leather couch opposite the Professor’s impressive mahogany desk.  Beast was standing to Xavier’s side, the same kindly expression on his face as when he had comforted her the night before.  Xavier looked the personification of wisdom and tolerance, as usual. If she weren’t in such a bind, it would have really bugged her.

“Mr. McCoy has informed me of your . . . situation, Rogue.”  He gave her a sad smile, “I want to start out by saying that no matter what happens, no matter what you decide, we are here for you.  You will always have a home with us.”

Rogue’s lip quivered and she hid her face in her hands as she began to sob.  She had been driven out of so many places that she had called home. She needed to know that she really had not only a place to stay, but people who accepted her.  The fact that Hank and Xavier were willing to do that meant everything to her.  Xavier moved his wheelchair to her side and placed a hand upon her shoulder.  This simple, yet comforting, gesture was all that she could hope for, up to a few weeks ago.  Her two guardians had been nothing but supportive, so she decided to tell them what she could.

“Thank you, Professor,” she sniffled, “that means more ta mean then you’ll ever know.”  She gave him a teary smile.

“You do not have to go through this alone.  Now, if I may be so bold as to ask,” she gulped as Xavier paused, “when did you get control over your powers?”

Rogue sighed internally. That was one secret she was willing to tell.  “Just a couple of months ago.  Ah’m sorry Ah didn’t tell you or anybody.  Ah almost felt like Ah’d jinx it.  If my control had just been temporary and Ah went and told everyone, Ah’d feel like a damn fool.  Ah wanted ta be sure it was here ta stay ‘fore Ah told ya.  Ah swear, Ah was planning on tellin’ ya’ll.”

“I believe you, Rogue, and I understand your hesitancy in confiding in me.”

“And, uh, ta be honest,” she looked away from him, embarrassed, “Ah kinda got used ta being the untouchable girl.  Meant people wouldn’t try too hard ta get close ta me.  An’ Ah liked that, not havn’ ta be sociable.  ‘Cause Ah ain’t.”

The professor let out a light laugh.  “Alright, that is one mystery solved.  On to the next.”

Rogue held her breath as she saw Mr. McCoy bring a file from Xavier’s desk and stood by the couch, examining it.  “From my tests, you’re approximately four weeks along.  May I ask why you weren’t concerned when you missed your last period and only came to me when you thought you had the flu?”

Rogue flushed scarlet, even through her heavy white make-up.  She hated talking about all this stuff, it embarrassed the hell out of her. “Uh, ma period’s been irregular ever since ma mutation first kicked in.  The fact that Ah missed one didn’t raise any red flags,” she winced at her unintentional pun, “so ta speak.”

“Ah, I understand,” replied Hank, his focus once more on the file, but apparently out of questions.

A silence fell in the room, all three of them deep in their own thoughts.  She knew they still had questions and just wished they’d get it over with.  She still had decisions to make and she couldn’t do it with their concern hanging over her head.

Xavier broke the peace as gently as possible.  “Now, Rogue, I’m sure that you are well aware of your options at this juncture, but if you want to go over them with either Mr. McCoy or myself—”

“No. Thanks, but no. Ah know what my options are.  Ah just don’t know what the best thing to do is.”

“If you do not wish to speak to us about this, Storm should be back this evening, and I’m sure she’d be honored if you were willing to confide in her.  Getting another woman’s perspective may help you.”  The professor sighed, “And, depending on your relationship with him, you may want to get the opinion of the man who impregnated you.”

Rogue’s eyes widened, “Yeah, sure.  Ah’ll do that.”  She knew she spat it out too quickly by the way the professor’s eyebrows had practically knitted together.  “Ah mean, Ah’ll tell him.  Ah know he cares fo’ me and all and that he’ll want ta be there for me.”  The professor looked far more relieved by that response.

His eyes fell on the clock, “I think it is about time you headed out, you don’t want to be late for school.”  She nodded and drifted towards the door.  “Rogue,” Xavier’s clear voice made her turn to face him, “I want to say again that we are here for you.  Finding yourself pregnant, and so soon after learning to control your mutation, must be very difficult for you.  But whatever you chose to do, we support you and only want the best for you.”

“Indeed we do,” chimed in Beast, “so please come to me if you have any concerns or questions. Night or day.”

Rogue found herself almost breathless, once again overwhelmed by the strange sensation of having people who genuinely cared for her.  “Thank you.  Both of you. For . . .everything.  Ah’ll be sure to keep ya informed.”

Her eyes were on the two men who had shown unceasing kindness to her.  She opened the door, her thankful gaze being returned by their sympathetic ones.  She didn’t notice the pair of eyes sinking into the hallway with a small gasp.

 “You must have misheard. It’s impossible on so many levels.”

“No, it’s like so not! She could have learned to control her powers and just like not told us.”

“Mein schwester vould never do zat, Kitty.”

“Well, she could have,” affirmed Jean, “I mean it isn’t as though she’s all that open with her feelings.”

“Exactly.  She could have learned to control her powers a long time ago.”

“Okay, even saying – hypothetically— that that was the case, she still doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“That we know about. Like Jean said, she’s secretive.”

“I bet it’s Gambit.”

“The Cajun vat kidnapped her?” Kurt asked, incredulously.

“She has to have better taste than that.  Date an Acolyte?  She’s too loyal to the X-Men to do that.”  Scott said certainly.

Kitty rolled her eyes, “They had major chemistry, Scott, Acolyte or not.”

“Still don’t think you heard right.”

“But, like, what if I did?”

The mutants were all silent for a while, pondering the question.

“Then we support her,” offered Scott, “no matter what.  She’s an X-Man, she’s family.  We’ll be there for her.”

“Absolutely.  She’d do the same for us,” confirmed Jean.

“Well maybe not you,” Kitty muttered to herself.

“It can’t be true. But if it is, I’ll rip ve head off ve man who dare touch mein sister!”

“Aww, Kurt, you’ll be an uncle!” Kitty squealed.  Kurt groaned in response.