#the part of the prompt where it says 'summoning can open unexpected doors' is something I'll get around to if/when I come back to this late

[noir-renard]

It was one of those things people said all the time: “Hate is such a strong word.”

People liked to bandy about it like it was footy or something equally trite—but very few actually stopped to think about what that meant (strong word, that is), in the context of hate.

Hate was like love; it was an active thing. Alive. No one who truly hated could go about it passively. Hate was something you had to put your back into–your soul. 

Very few things earned that kind of soulful commitment, in John’s experience. Save for maybe himself, but that was a can of maggots he was happy leaving sealed, ta ever so.

So. John did not hate anyone, really.

However.

John Constantine very strongly disliked every single member of the Fenton Family, et al. All for very different but no less compelling reasons.

He wasn’t quite prepared to dedicate himself to hating any of them just yet—hate was such a strong word, after all; one he wasn't sure any of the Fentons deserved.

Besides all that, John was too tired and too old to hate any of the Fentons with that kind of passion and dedication.

But he didn't know that yet. He didn't know a lot of things, like where the fuck he was, how the fuck he got here, and who the fuck these fuckers were.

There were four of them, all too young to be summoning occult beings. Or John, for that matter.

He'd just been minding his own, as usual, when a sharp pain stabbed in the spleen region and yanked, hard. Like he was a goddamn fish or something. The sensation that dragged him here was not unlike a teleportation spell, except he hadn't cast it. As such, he’d been helpless but to go with the metaphorical flow, and here he was.

Stuck. Trapped, more like.

By the look of it, he was in a basement somewhere—it was dark, smelled of dust and rot and seawater and a particular shade of magic he almost recognized.

John looked around at all the candles, half-burned. Duck shaped, for some reason. 

He squinted at the symbols drawn on the floor in what he hoped was paint. Red and green paint.

He inventoried the strange…collection of items placed inside the appropriate places inside the summoning circle exactly like you would if you were trying to summon a—

Fuck. He’d been summoned. Somehow. Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to be summonable. Summoning was what he did, not something that happened to him. Certainly not by a bunch of clear amateurs.

He reached for his magic, considering his options. It was still there, just blocked. No harm allowed. He also seemed to be bound here until whoever summoned him deemed their deal concluded.

Fuck.

So. John Constantine had some regrets. Many regrets. Loads, really. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to admit that this might, on any level, be his fault. Whatever the hell this was.

“Right. Who the fuck are you lot and why the fuck did you summon me to Gotham?"

None of them answered immediately. Watching to see what he would do.

Maybe they were smarter than they looked.

"Is it money?" John pressed. "‘Cause I’ve got fuck all in the money department—”

“John Constantine.” 

One of them stepped forward; he almost looked familiar in that ‘eight of out ten people I know have black hair and blue eyes’ way. Also in the ‘I could snap you in half if I wanted to’ kind of way. And in the ‘I haven’t slept well in years’ way.

Point was, he looked like a cape. Not any one of them specifically, but enough for John to know this was going to be an even worse experience than he’d thought.

Black and Blue pulled out a scroll. A very familiar looking scroll. One that haunted him.

John was going to use up his daily allotment of fucks, at this rate.

“In accordance with the deal you made in exchange for services rendered,” Scroll Bearer continued, “you, John Constantine, are obligated to perform one equitable service in return.”

The language was a little off, to be fair, but clearly they’d done their research. They meant to do this proper-like.

But there was one problem. 

“If that scroll is what I think it is, then I didn’t make said deal with you. Unless the Ghost King underwent some kind of…downgraded metamorphosis.”

John had expected that to get a reaction—insults and anger were the best way to make sure the other party was too upset to properly negotiate.

But Mr. Hero Expy just smiled. Small, dangerous. 

“The deal you made was with whoever holds the scroll and calls upon you while doing so. And as you can see” —he waved the scroll to underscore his point— “that’s me.”

“So you’re not the Ghost King?” John clarified.

Black-and-Blue scoffed.

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He crossed his arms and leveled his gaze at John. His eyes flashed green—pit green.

Christ. He was a pit fiend, wasn’t he? The worst kind of ghost.

At least now John understood how they’d managed to make all this happen. Denizens of the Infinite Realms could do whatever they wanted if it made sense to them and bugger all who took issue with things like ‘logic’ and ‘rules of magic’.

“In short, you need my help,” he replied, playing it cool.

“Look, Mr. Constantine,” said the Pit Fiend, “technically we could force you to help, seeing as how we have a piece of your soul right here, but I don’t think we’ll need to force you. Just hear us out.”

John looked over the rest of the group, wondering who else here was a Pit Fiend or Pit-Aligned. There was: a pale goth girl who looked like she ate preps for breakfast; a black kid wearing a red beret and carrying more tech than Batman; and a redhead who looked like the PTA Board personified.

None of them stood out as anything other than ‘too young for this rubbish.’

Right. Looked like it was the old fashioned way, then. 

He pointed to Pit Fiend(confirmation pending). 

“You, maybe, have a case, through force or through favor, but the rest of you…” John trailed off. “It might take some convincing.”

“We’re not gonna hurt you—” said the Pit Fiend, eyes flashing green.

“I might,” said goth girl. “Depending on how helpful you are.”

John closed his eyes. This was why he refused to deal with children.

“Look, what do you need me for anyway? Clearly you're a clever, determined lot. You got me, trapped in here like a bug under a glass—”

“You trapped yourself by swearing allegiance to Pariah,” said Pit Fiend. “But if you help us, your contract will be complete. Honestly, I think it’s something you’d want to do anyway. Really, we did you a favor by bringing you here.”

“Is that right?” John itched for a cigarette. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me how you summoned me so I can make sure this never happens again, and I’ll happily listen to whatever little problem you have that you decided to involve me in the most annoying way possible.”

“Technically we don’t have to negotiate with you,” said Tech Kid.

“We stole a bunch of stuff from Gotham,” said Goth Girl at the exact same time.

The other three glared at her. “What? We did. We’re an officially recognized Gotham Gang and everything. Penguin even shot at us.”

“We didn’t steal anything,” said PTA Redhead. “We borrowed a bunch of stuff from Gotham.”

“Try telling that to Batman and Robin,” said Goth Girl. 

“Or the museum, hospital, bank, zoo, and Mob-Back Night Club we broke into,” said Pit Fiend.

Was this in-fighting? God, John hoped so. He could use that.

“You know, I’m pretty close with the Bat, if he’s giving you trouble, I could–”

“You really couldn’t,” said Tech Kid, unimpressed.

Interestingly enough, PTA Redhead looked guilty. 

“We might have made it look like you were somewhat involved with the, um. Illegal borrowing?”

“He is involved,” said Goth Girl. “We did it all to summon him.”

“Batsy knows me better than to think I’d intentionally piss him off in his city just to steal a few items of interest,” John lied.

“Not according to his files on you he keeps on his super secret server,” said Tech Kid.

They’d hacked the Bat? Well. This just got interesting.

John started to laugh. “You know what? I misjudged you lot. You’re competent and stupid, somehow. Bravo, hats off to you all. Still haven’t heard why you need me, though.”

The Pit Fiend focused his attention back on John.

“What we need from you is help getting the crown of flames back from a ghost and locking it in a special box without any of us having to touch it.” he paused. “Also if you have any ideas on where to find a box with no key that ghosts can’t phase through, that’d be great.”

John stopped laughing. “Well. That’s one hell of an ask.”

“The real question, John Constantine,” the Pit Fiend began, “is how much is your soul worth to you?” 

Hate was a very strong word, but in a word? Yeah. John hated everything about this.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

Stephanie didn’t want to say she’d expected better of Batman before becoming Robin and that she had been, thus far, unimpressed. But she wasn’t not saying that either.

Sure, it had all started off a bit rough, but what hadn’t in Stephanie’s life?

And yeah, maybe there were reasons why Alfred didn’t want her to become Robin.

Why Bruce didn’t want her to become Robin.

Maybe even why Tim was so being so, well. Tim about the whole thing. (Even though when Tim had showed up in the Batcave wearing a Robin costume saying ‘well someone’s gotta do it and it might as well be me’, everything was just fine and you’re the best Robin ever Tim thank you for your service, but when Stephanie did it everyone was all ‘now hold the phone, who let you in here’. Was it the hair? Should Stephanie dye her hair black? Surely not.)

Anyway, the point was, maybe they had reasons for not wanting Stephanie to be Robin, but she was pretty sure that if Dick or Jason or Tim or even Barbara had done what she did, it would have been a disapproving look and nothing more.

Apparently, laughing at rich people who'd lost like, a small handful of gems from their 'super safe vault' (that contained hundreds of identical gems) was 'unprofessional', and her follow-up statement when they said they felt 'unsafe' thar  'Maybe you should go ask geologists for some thematically appropriate safe words so no one gets the rest of your remaining rocks off without your approval' was a bridge too far.

So Robin could pun, but only at the eighth grade reading level, and only if it wasn’t Stephanie. As a result, she was ‘grounded ("on probation") for til college (“a week”)’.

On the other hand, no one even incrementally bat-aligned was remotely emotionally well-adjusted, and Stephanie was a big enough person to admit that, just maybe, Tim was worried. Maybe Alfred was worried. Maybe Bruce was worried. Stephanie didn’t plan on being the most emotionally well-adjusted bat-aligned person though, so she wasn’t gonna read into it.

A-n-y-w-a-y. Patrolling the streets as Robin was way different than roaming as Spoiler. Because Spoiler mostly just existed when Cluemaster was around for the pure filial sentiment of “fucking up Cluemaster’s shit”. Spoiler didn’t have to be perfect, or show up all the time, or represent hope and all that bullshit.

Robin, on the other hand, did.

Because Gotham’s hope couldn’t say ‘get fucked, asshole’ to Goon of the Week when they aimed an uzi at you. Robin had to say things like ‘Holy Guacamole! It’s Taco Time for you to see the dock-tor’ before punting them off the pier and into the Gotham River.

Stephanie had thought it would be easier to fight with Batman on her side. But having Batman on her side (and for all that he’d hesitated to bring her along, when they were out here as Batman and Robin he was on her side) meant going into the kind of situations that Batman and Robin got into.

Scrapes and muggings, sure.

But also the less fun part, which was this: sitting in front of the computer. Watching video footage. No punching in sight, except for punching the keys.

Bruce was insisting that this wasn’t punishment, but Stephanie had been in public school all her life and this? This was saturday morning detention for Robins. Had to be.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling or something?” she asked. Not for the first time. Just because she was grounded didn’t mean the rest of GC could be left to its own devices.

“I told you we weren’t patrolling tonight,” Bruce said, which was a lot of words for him to say at once. 

“What, you don’t trust me down here all by my lonesome with access to the best information tool in the whole world?”

She smiled at him. She hoped it was a winning smile.

Apparently it wasn’t; Bruce said nothing and returned to scrubbing through security footage.

Stephanie pouted and ate the sandwich Alfred had brought her. He didn’t approve of this, but he took care of her still. Great guy, Alfie.

“What are we even looking for here, anyway? We’ve already looked through this stuff, like, a billion times. And you probably wrote a program to scan it for like, stuff the human eye can’t detect.”

Bruce didn’t sigh–not even the patented Bruce Sigh™(which was really more of a slightly-louder-than normal exhale).

“We’re watching it again. We must have missed something.”

Stephanie was preeeetty sure they hadn’t, but part of being Robin was knowing that Big Bat was the Boss. 

It had started off innocuous enough. A break-in and theft at the Gotham Fine Art Museum. Typical Batman and Robin stuff. 

Stephanie had almost thought Bruce was playing softball with her. Dick had been doing cases like this when he was just a baby still, basically. And she might have been offended and voiced it had Bruce not made it explicitly clear how thin the ice was when it came to her being Robin.

So she’d sucked it up and gone to the stupid art theft with B.

They’d looked at the security tapes. They’d poured over the scene. There was nothing. No cut power lines, no hacking into the mainframe, no fingerprints, no broken glass. It was like the picture just got up and walked away. Except that if it had done that, they would have known, because the pressure plates on the floor would have set an alarm off.

According to the docent, the only reason they knew it had been stolen was because they got to work in the morning and it wasn’t there.

“That Roscoe piece was on loan to us from the Walker Gallery, you know! They will not be pleased about this!”

(Stephanie had a lot of maybe not-so-nice things to say about those observation skills, but Robin was supposed to be nice, so she kept it to herself.)

She and Bruce had been about a week into the investigation when another top-security location go broke into. This time it was a vault or something, some rich person lost their ‘ademite, citrine, and garnet’ collection, and that was when Stephanie stopped caring. Bruce, too, but the bank also had several million in Government bonds, so it was kind of bad that someone could break into it.

Even Bruce hadn’t immediately put together that the jewel break-in was related to the art theft. But the M.O. was the same in that it was flawless. No security lines breached, no pressure plates depressed, nothing on video, no fingerprints, no dust disturbed.

By the third time a similar break-in happened—a dinosaur egg from the Natural Science Museum—Bruce was starting to get into a little Bat Tantrum about it. A new but very skilled crew was taking things of high value, but not to sell—he’d looked at all the markets, black and otherwise.

The Gotham Gazette has also caught on, and was calling them the Ghost Gang, on account of they were like ghosts. Not the Gazette’s best work, in Steph’s opinion. It was almost October though (August TOTALLY counted as almost October; they had all the Halloween decorations up in the store so it COUNTED), and seasonal shit like that always made the papers sell like hot cakes, or however the saying went.

Stephanie had jokingly said ‘maybe it is a bunch of ghosts’, to which the expected reply had been ‘ghosts aren’t real, Robin’.

Unfortunately, what Bruce said was that it was ‘unlikely’ because ‘ghosts are exceedingly rare and don’t have much use for physical property’.

So much for Stephanie’s comfort, right?

Anyway, it had been three weeks of this Ghost Gang Bologna now. Stephanie had only gotten in trouble when they’d returned to ask the jewels' former owners if there was anything special about the minerals they’d lost, to which the reply had been ‘no, but we did get them all from the same seller. English fellow’.

They’d apparently thought Batman and Robin were there to comfort them or offer them some kind of financial compensation, which was why Stephanie had laughed at them. But really, how stupid did money make people?

It wasn’t that Stephanie didn’t like looking for clues; her dad was Cluemaster. She ate clues for breakfast, sometimes literally.

But in this case, she was pretty sure there were no clues to find. This new gang, whoever they were, was good. Maybe they’d slip up eventually, if they kept this up, but so far they hadn’t.

“There,” said Bruce, freezing on a frame. “Analysis, Stephanie. What do you see?”

“An empty display case.”

“Look more closely.”

Stephanie sighed internally and looked closer. She didn’t like this part of the job, but it was—quite literally—what she’d signed up for. 

She squinted. She scrunched her nose. She leaned in close. “Is that a disembodied hand?”

“A gloved hand.”

“So it is a ghost.”

“It’s too soon to say what it is definitively. Some sort of phase shifter.” He pressed a few buttons on his fancy keyboard and a different screen popped up.

It was a list of everything that had been stolen. When put up like this, it had kind of a theme, actually—

Ah. That was the point. “You think they’re stealing these things for a reason.”

“It’s not to make money,” said Bruce, which was Bat-Speak for ‘Yes’. “They aren’t ransoming it off. They aren’t advertising themselves as a new gang. So why?”

Stephanie narrowed her eyes. What linked all these things together? “Have you cross referenced these with any of the JL Dark team?”

Bruce turned to her slowly and didn’t say anything.

Right. She wasn’t supposed to know about JLD. The super confidential occult team that really was not-so-secret when you had access to a database like the Bat Computer.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’ve had me down here for like, a week, looking through files. Don’t put a mouse in the cheesebox then get mad when you don’t have any Jarlsberg left.”

The silent staring only continued for thirty more seconds before Bruce cracked. 

Stephanie decided to take that as a win.

“I did contact them, yes. Zatanna said she’d ask Constantine about it, but she hasn’t been able to find him.”

“Isn’t he like, super hard to get in contact with?”

Everything she knew about Constantine was that he was very much not a team player, dealt with demons, and didn’t believe in cell phones. Also, he was British or something.

“Not for Z. Which means he’s avoiding her.”

“Or maybe the Ghost Gang got him, too,” she joked.

But Bruce wasn’t laughing.

“Hn,” he said. He tapped a few buttons, making different things light up on the screen. Facts from testimony, provenance charts from the various stolen items, suspicious activity prior to the thefts.

‘Blonde man’, ‘English guy’, ‘borrowed from famed Liverpool art gallery’. ‘Lingering scent of cigarette smoke and sulfur.’

“Huh,” said Stephanie. “Well. Either Constantine’s sloppier than I thought, or someone is trying very hard to frame him. He got any resentful exes we can track down?”

Bruce sighed for real this time. “Countless.”

“Well. This should be fun.”

“One of them is a shark.”

“Like a loan shark or…a real shark?”

Bruce grimaced.

“Well alright then. I’ll got get my bat-flippers.”

Being Robin was nothing like being Spoiler. But half of being a hero was answering the question of ‘why isn’t someone doing something about this?’ with ‘well, I’m someone. I can do something’.

Including talking to a shark with the capacity for dating and fostering resentment.

But someone had to do it, and it might as well be her.

DPxDC Prompt

Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results. Summoning can open unexpected doors. No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.

My little ficlet for this is below the cut:

Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury. 

Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing. 

This was not how he’d planned this night. 

Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.

The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims. 

Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.

His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course. 

First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move. 

They’d gone after Jason.

Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze. 

First they’d taken his son. 

Then they’d used him as a sacrifice. 

Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak. 

The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white. 

He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too. 

The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet. 

Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out. 

The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light. 

“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul. 

It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green. 

It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all. 

The temperature drops. 

“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green. 

The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against. 

The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son. 

When the light fades, Jason’s not alone. 

A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly. 

The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being. 

“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers. 

“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering. 

It’s like breathing in ice. 

“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.” 

“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have. 

“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated. 

“I am not the only one you have awoken.” 

To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place. 

“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged. 

Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?” 

“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right. 

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree. 

She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more. 

“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.

“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.” 

“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,” 

Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?” 

The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”

“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully. 

Bruce wishes he had an answer. 

“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?” 

Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch. 

It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot. 

The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”

Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.” 

“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?” 

Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.” 

“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold. 

The being smiles. 

“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.” 

Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Soothing Rain of His: Chapter II - An Old Friend, a New Grisha

Chapter Summary: Aleksander returns to the Little Palace, but he brings someone unexpected with him. You know everything is about to change now, but you find comfort in your strong love for General Kirigan.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Fedyor Kaminsky, Ivan, Alina Starkov, Genya Safin

Word Count: 4227

A/N: tsaritsa – ruler, queen, female tsar moi tsar – my ruler, king Smut alert. If you don't like it or are underage, don't read from: "He makes the kiss become more passionate and intimate." to: "'Only mine,' he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours." Enjoy! Also, the last scene is from the third of season one. Inspired by prompt: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559843/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

You're reading a book, lying in bed. Your one hand is holding the book, while your other makes traces with a stream of water in the air. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

'Come in,' you call and put away the book, marking the page first. The door opens and your good friend Natasha walks in. She smirks at you.

'Guess who's just returned,' she says. She wants to say something more, but you're already on your feet and bolting out of the room. Your friend sighs.

'I didn't even get to tell her the best part,' she says, pouting. 'Rude.'

You race through the corridors, your heart beating fast. You barely manage to stop a grin forming on your face. You slow down to a pace when you are near the General's chambers. It's not far, but you both agreed it's better not to place you near him.

You stop in front of the door. You can hear voices inside. You calm your breathing and knock.

'Enter,' you hear a familiar voice. You walk inside and close the door behind you. You see Aleksander talking to a few guards. His expression is serious, but you like how it softens slightly when he looks at you. Like the way he looks at you is different from how he looks at everyone else.

'Is everything clear?' he asks the guards.

'Yes, General,' one of them says. They all bow their heads slightly, then turn to leave. Only once they are gone, Aleksander opens his arms. You fall into them with a grin and he embraces you tightly.

'I was just thinking about going to see you, but you beat me to it,' Aleksander says and pulls away to give you and amused look. 'Again.'

'Well, not only you have spies in the palace,' you say, grinning at him. Your lover frowns.

'Who is your spy?' he asks.

'Like I'm going to tell you,' you chuckle. Aleksander kisses you hard. It leaves you a bit dazed.

'How about now?' Kirigan asks. You look at him and laugh.

'Natasha,' you explain, not wanting to 'torture' him more. 'I guess she saw you coming to your chambers.'

'I guess,' Aleksander says, thoughtful. You look at him closely.

'You're back earlier than I thought, though,' you point out. 'Did something happen?'

'The skiff was attacked merely two markers in,' Aleksander answers after a moment. You stare at him, horrified.

'Are they…?' you ask.

'Some of them,' Aleksander confirms, nodding. 'But then an impossible happened. A burst of light scared Volcras away.'

'Where did it come from?' you ask, frowning. A spark shines in Aleksander's eyes.

'From the Sun Summoner,' he answers. Your mouths part slightly. To say you are stunned would be an understatement.

'You found them?' you ask. Aleksander nods.

'A cartographer from the First Army,' he answers. 'She had no idea who she is until that event. No idea she is a Grisha.'

'She wasn't tested?' you ask.

'She didn't really give me a clear answer,' Aleksander answers, thoughtful. You gnaw at you bottom lip, thinking.

'She can't control it yet, of course,' Kirigan says. 'But with a proper training, Miss Alina Starkov will become a powerful Grisha.'

You freeze. Your eyes snap to his face.

'Come again?' you ask with disbelief. 'The Sun Summoner is Alina Starkov?'

'Do you know her?' Aleksander asks, surprised. You snort.

'Yeah, it's my childhood friend,' you answer. 'I told you about her.'

'The one you write letters to,' Aleksander remembers, nodding.

'So, what happens to her now?' you ask. You hope you can see your old friend soon. You missed her after you moved from Keremzin.

'Tomorrow she will be presented to King Pyotr,' Aleksander answers. 'Then, training begins.'

'Tomorrow?' you ask, blinking. 'You convinced her to come here?'

You find it surprising. Alina and Mal, her friend from the orphanage, were inseparable. And you doubt Mal is a Grisha as well. So, he couldn't have come here as well.

'Not exactly,' Kirigan answers slowly. You stare at him. For a rather long moment.

'Aleksander,' you finally start. 'My dearest love. Pretty boy. Did you take her here against her will?'

'Maybe a bit,' Aleksander admits. You hide your face in your hands for a moment. Then, you move them to cup his face.

'I love you,' you say. 'I really do. But sometimes you can be so thick.'

'What did I do?' Aleksander asks, puzzled. 'I had to take her out of here. The light was seen from miles. She was in danger. Which was proven by her being attacked by drüskelle.'

'Okay,' you sigh. 'But please, tell me, that you at least let her bid farewell to her friends.'

Aleksander is silent. You want to hit your head against a wall.

'So, she's scared, confused, lonely and who knows what else,' you say. 'Lovely.'

You turn on your heel and head toward the door. Aleksander frowns.

'You don't even know where she is,' he says, guessing your intentions. You turn to him and raise your eyebrows at him.

'The Vezda Suite,' you say. Aleksander looks at you with surprise. You scoff.

'Please,' you say. 'I've been a servant here for how long? I know which suite is the best not counting yours. And the Sun Summoner deserves the best, does she not?'

You turn once again and hurry out of the Darkling's Chambers. Soon enough you're in front of the Vezda Suite. The guards eye you warily. You raise your eyebrows at them, daring them to stop you. They don't, knowing you have the Black Genera's favour. So, you knock.

'Come in,' you hear after a moment a quiet and tense voice. You push the door open and walk inside. At once you see Alina buried in bed. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you, recognising you, even though it's been years since you last saw each other. You can't help a smile forming on your face.

'[Y/N]!' Alina exclaims, crawling out of the bed. You quickly close the door behind you. You both run toward the other and in the next second you are in each other's arms.

'I can't believe you're here,' Alina says. 'I mean, I knew you were a servant and then you wrote to me that you're a Grisha, but I mean I didn't expect you to come here. This room, I mean.'

'Alina, breathe,' you chuckle, pulling away slightly. Your friend smiles slightly.                       

'Sorry,' she apologises. You notice traces of tears on her face and her red eyes. Your look softens and you cup her face.

'You have nothing to apologise for,' you say. 'I understand this all is a bit overwhelming.'

'Yeah,' Alina says, deflating. 'If anyone can understand what I feel it's you.'

'Well, maybe not everything,' you say and take Alina's hand. 'But definitely some of it. And I'm willing to listen about the rest.'

You lead your friend to her bed and make her sit there with you. She looks at you with gratitude.

'I don't want this,' she says. 'Any of this. Can someone else be the Sun Summoner?'

'Darling, if it was possible, you'd have a line forming here for this power,' you say and sigh. 'But it's not. Trust me, I searched if it is. I didn't want to be a Grisha either. Mind you, I didn't have such responsibility thrusted on me.'

'Yeah, no pressure at all,' Alina murmurs. You take her hand and squeeze it.

'Was it hard?' she asks after a moment. 'Adjusting to a new life?'

'It had some difficulties,' you admit. 'Some Grisha weren't exactly happy that a girl that used to serve them sometimes is now their equal.'

'How did you manage?' Alina asks.

'At first I had people stood up for me and now I'm doing it myself,' you answer. Alina's face falls.

'So, you're still bullied?' she asks. You hum.

'Sometimes,' you admit. 'But I can handle it now. And if I can't, I have friends I can lean on. So do you. I'm here for you, Alina. I will help you get through this. Whatever you need, you only have to ask.'

'Thank you,' Alina says, smiling with tears in her eyes. You pull her in for another hug. You pull away after a moment.

'You must be exhausted,' you say. 'I will let you rest.'

'Will you come tomorrow?' Alina asks. 'In the morning.'

'What did I just tell you?' you ask her and smile. 'Ask and I will deliver. I promise to be here.'

'Thank you,' your friend says, relieved. You squeeze her hand.

'You're not alone, Alina,' you promise her and stand up. You walk to the door, where you send your friend one last smile before leaving.

On you way to your chambers you stop by one of the windows. You were right. Things are going to change now.

*

You finish getting ready with the help of Natasha and Jana. You hate having them serve you, but they assure you they quite enjoy it. After all, this gives them time to gossip with you like in the old days.

They've just brought up the matter of you being friends with the Sun Summoner, when there's a knock on the door. Natasha and Jana exchange a look. They both smirk. You look at them, confused.

'What is it?' you ask.

'Oh, nothing,' Jana says innocently. 'We just know who's behind that door.'

'A certain general, I should think,' Natasha teases, grinning at you. You glare at them and they giggle.

'Come in,' you call, wanting to end their fit of laughter. The door opens and… Aleksander walks in. You feel your cheeks flush. Your friends are about to die from stifling laughter.

'Leave us,' Aleksander orders them, either not noticing their condition or deciding to ignore it.

'General,' they both say, curtsying to him. They hurry out, but not without throwing you winks over their shoulders. You shake your head and turn your face to Aleksander.

'Shouldn't you be busy with preparations for introducing Alina to the King?' you ask.

'All that we're missing is Miss Starkov,' Aleksander answers, slowly walking toward you. 'And I sent Genya to help her prepare. Anyway, I have more pressing matter to attend to.'

'Oh?' you ask. He stops in front of you. You have to look up to meet his eyes.

'You were quite rude yesterday, you know,' he says. 'I've been missing you ever since I left you in my chambers before I left for the Fold. And you left me with just one kiss. I would have forgiven you, though. If you had returned. But you didn't.'

'I see,' you say, trying to contain a smile. 'How can I make amends, then?'

Aleksander grabs your hips and presses you to himself. You gasp but your breath hitches when you see the way he looks at you. His gaze is intense, burning with need. For you.

'First, I want you to kiss me,' he says, his voice low. You stand on your tiptoes. One hand goes to cup his face, while the other lands at his neck. You press your lips to his, hoping to let him know how much he means to you.

It seems to work, because he grunts in your lips and presses you even closer to himself. He makes the kiss become more passionate and intimate. You feel the arousal pooling in your core. You whine and whisper his name.

'Am I forgiven now?' you ask, pulling slightly away.

'You're getting there,' Aleksander answers. His hands reach into your pants. Your eyes go wide.

'Really?' you ask. 'Now? We don't really have time-'

'I need you,' Aleksander cuts you off. 'I need you like flower needs a sun. Like a fish needs water. Please, let me have you. We don't have to undress.'

Your heart flutters. He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and you know you are doomed.

'I hate I can't say "no" to you, pretty boy,' you say. Aleksander chuckles and lowers your pants a bit. Then, he does the same with your underwear. Your cheeks flush.

'Somehow, this feel much different than being completely naked,' you say.

'You're the one who said we didn't have time,' Aleksander says, getting ready to take out his member. 'I wouldn't care if the King himself had to wait for me. I want to be one with my beloved and nothing or no one can stop me.'

'Unless I say "no",' you point out.

'But you can't, remember?' Aleksander asks, smirking. You roll your eyes and put your arms around his neck.

'Is it okay?' you ask. Your lover just hums and grabs your bottom, urging you to jump. You do so and wrap your legs around his hips. Aleksander walks with you to a wall. He presses your back against it and then takes one hand from your ass.

'Are you ready for me?' he asks, his voice low.

'I'm always ready for you,' you whisper in his ear. Aleksander growls and puts his length into your entrance. You bite your lip, stifling a cry.

'No, don't do that,' Aleksander says, slowly starting to move inside you. 'You know I love hearing how good I make you feel.'

'What if someone comes to check on me, since we're about to go to the Grand Palace… and hears me?' you ask, blushing.

'I've put Fedyor and Ivan on the corridor,' Aleksander answers, mortifying you. 'No one will dare to walk past them.'

'But that means they can hear me!' you protest. Your lover shuts you up with a kiss. At the same time, he starts moving faster and deeper. You gasp and moan when he hits your g-spot.

'Saints, Aleksander!' you exclaim, pretty sure you're seeing starts.

'There, it wasn't that hard, was it?' Aleksander asks, satisfied, and groans. 'You feel so good, lapushka. If I could, I would spend hours like that with you. Every day.'

You shiver and clench around him. He groans and goes even faster.

'Aleksander…' you gasp. 'Yes… more… please…'

'Tell me you're mine,' Aleksander says, slowing down. Oh, the nerve of him…

'I'm yours,' you say, looking him in the eyes. He presses his lips to yours. You sigh and kiss him back. Aleksander goes fast again. Your nails scratch his back. You're almost there…

'Please…' you whisper. Aleksander puts his hand between your bodies and rubs circles on your clit.

'Moya lapushka,' he says, a bit of pride in his voice, and you come undone, wailing. He pushes into you a few more times until he stills and fills you, groaning.

'Only mine,' he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. You smile.

'Yours,' you assure him and cup his face. 'And you're mine.'

'Yes,' Aleksander confirms with a smile and kisses you again. A moment later he pulls away with a sigh.

'I want to continue this so much,' he says and gently separates your bodies, 'but we must go now.'

You nod and untangle yourself from him. Aleksander quickly cleans both of you up and then fixes your clothing.

'I will see you soon,' he says, pressing a kiss to your hand. You smile.

'Not if I see you first,' you say. Aleksander chuckles and reluctantly lets go of your hand. He exits the room, leaving you alone. You stay still for a moment, your heart beating fast. You're glad some things are not going to change.

*

When you finally reach Alina's chambers, she's with Genya Safin and she's almost ready to meet the King. Your friend smiles seeing you. You can almost feel her relief that she doesn't have to go through it alone.

'I'm so sorry, Alina,' you say, crossing the room to hug her. 'I wanted to come earlier, but something held me up.'

Well, rather someone held you up. Against a wall. Not that you minded. At all. In fact, you're really sorry that duties call both of you, because if not- Stop it, [Y/]. Time and place.

'I don't mind,' Alina says and smiles at the Tailor. 'Genya here is most helpful. She even threw away rude servants. Are they all like that?'

'No, most of them are nice,' you say, forcing a smile. You don't add that they at least used to be nice to you. A lot of them are treating you coldly ever since it turned out you're a Grisha. But you don't let Alina know that.

'Remind me to introduce you to Natasha, Jana and Tommy,' you say. 'Just prepare for an endless teasing from the first two. But other than that, they're great.'

Alina smiles. Genya looks at you with interest.

'How do you two already know each other?' she asks.

'Oh, when I was little, I used to live in the same town as Alina,' you explain. 'We've been writing to each other's letters since I left, so our friendship prevailed.'

Alina grins. But then she frowns and looks at you with worry.

'Are you alright, [Y/N]?' she asks. 'Your cheeks are a little flushed…'

You stiffen. You notice Genya turning back to Alina, but you see a glimpse of amused smile on her face. Of course, she knows about your relationship with General, seeing she's become your close friend after you were accepted into Grisha fold. So, she perfectly knows why you are flushed. And why you were late.

'I'm fine,' you assure Alina. 'More importantly, are you ready?'

'Almost,' Genya answers and puts on Alina's head a hat with a veil. The Sun Summoner is very confused by that.

'There,' the Tailor says and heads toward the door. 'Let's go.'

You take Alina's hand, squeeze it and smile reassuringly at her. You can't see whether she responds because of the veil. Still, you lead her out of the room and you two follow Genya.

'No army uniform includes a veil,' Alina says on your way to the Grand Palace.

'You look fine,' Genya says.

'Say one wanted to leave the Little Palace…' Alina says. You supress a smile.

'But everything you need is here,' Genya says.

'I-I've got some things I've forgotten back at the camp,' Alina says. 'I could just go back.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Genya says. 'This way.'

Alina blows at the veil, trying to move it away from her face. You actually find it quite funny. But Genya doesn't.

'Stop that!' she says. 'No one can see you until King Pyotr does.'

Alina stops in front of the mirror. She lifts the veil and looks at her reflection.

'It's just as well,' she says, looking herself over. 'This outfit is ridiculous.'

Well, you're not going to argue on that. Still, you grab her hand and drag her forward.

'Sadly, this is how the King sees the First Army,' you explain. 'He cares little for mud, blood or sacrifice.'

'Shouldn't I be in a kefta?' Alina asks. You all stop for a moment.

'Oh, no,' you snort. 'The King expects to see a humble girl plucked from the ranks of his army. He'll want to take the credit for you.'

'You'll get a kefta once he's witnessed your power,' Genya adds, as you resume walking.

'Right, my power,' Alina says. A moment later you descend the stairs.

'By all accounts, it'll be King Pyotr, the Queen, Crown Prince Vasily, and the King's spiritual adviser, the Apparat,' Genya says and you wince at the mention of the prince. 'He's this greasy rat-'

'Was that a library?' Alina interrupts her. 'Is it available to all of us?'

'Everything here is available to all of us,' you answer. 'The general built this home for us so we can thrive.'

'Has a Grisha ever escaped?' Alina asks, as you exit the Little Palace. '[Y/N], you were a servant. Don't you know some secret exits?'

'Oh, plenty of them,' you answer. 'But I'm not going to tell you where they are.'

'Why not?' Alina asks.

'Because that would put you in danger, meaning I would have to face General Kirigan's wraith, and I do value my life, you know,' you answer.

'Quite smart,' Aleksander praises you, showing up suddenly. 'Planning on making a break for it?'

You and Alina are both startled. Alina looks behind but doesn't see Genya. She lifts the veil.

'Uh, I didn't mean to…' she starts but decides it's better not to finish.

'Good morning, [Y/N],' Aleksander says, his gaze landing on you. You supress a smile.

'Good morning, General,' you greet him. The three of you pass the gate and you see the Grand Palace.

'Oh, Saints!' Alina exclaims.

'I think the Grand Palace is the ugliest building I've ever seen,' Aleksander says. 'How was your rest?'

'Restless,' Alina answers. 'Despite Genya's magic, I didn't-'

'It's not magic,' Aleksander interrupts her. 'It's science. Or rather, Small Science. We do not conjure from nothing. We manipulate that which already exists around us.'

'You make it sound so easy.'

'A bird makes flight look easy. But it was born to do so.'

'When it's ready.'

'So, be ready.'

'You're asking me to do something I didn't even know I could do three days ago.'

Aleksander stops. He steps in front of Alina

'Do you believe I brought you here to make a fool of you?' he asks. 'To make a fool of both of us? Just keep your focus on me, and you'll be fine. Once he sees what you can do, and we have his blessing, you will remain here to train.'

'His blessing?' Alina asks. 'I thought you ruled the Grisha.'

'He may lead the Second Army, but the King is still the King,' you explain. 'I better go. I should enter with other Grisha. So, don't be afraid, Alina. You're gonna be alright.'

You hug Alina. She clings to you, not wanting you to leave her. Over her shoulder you meet Aleksander's eyes. They soften for a moment and his lips twitch upward. But once you move away from Alina, it's gone.

Aleksander leads Alina into the Throne Room. You enter with other Grisha after them. Alina looks up at the thrones, where the King and the Queen are sitting. She looks at Aleksander and he nods. She lifts her veil, takes the hat off and gives it to a servant.

'I thought she'd be taller,' the King says.

'I thought she was Shu,' the Queen says. 'Well, I guess she's Shu enough. Tell her… Oh, I don't know… good morning.'

'I don't actually speak Shu, Your Highness,' Alina says.

'Then what are you?' the Queen asks. Alina clearly doesn't know what to answer. She looks behind her and finds you with her gaze. You send her a reassuring smile.

'She is Alina Starkov… the Sun Summoner, moya tsaritsa,' Aleksander says for her, bowing his head, so Alina does the same. 'She will change the future. Starting now.'

He calls the shadows and the room is swallowed by darkness. You can feel how uneasy everyone feels. But you're not afraid. You find comfort in Aleksander's shadows.

After what feels like forever, the room is lit up by a bright light that's coming from Alina. People gasps and cover their eyes. You simply narrow them and see Aleksander holding Alina's hand, amplifying her. You're not surprised, since your friend doesn't know yet how to summon and control the sun.

After a moment Aleksander lets go of Alina's hand. The light and shadows are gone. People clap and exclaim "bravo".

'How long will she need?' the King, who has stood up during the presentation, asks.

'Destroying the Fold will be no easy feat,' Aleksander answers, walking forward. 'She alone may not be able to do it. She will remain with me at the Little Palace to train… undisturbed.'

'Then train her quickly,' the King says. 'Our wars have been a noble pursuit, but this chatter from the West about becoming a sovereign nation, that needs to stop. The sooner we are one country again, the better.'

'Agreed… moi tsar,' Aleksander says and bows. Alina follows suit. The King turns and walks back to his throne. Aleksander takes Alina's hand and leads her toward your group. They stop a bit in front of you and talk quietly. Then, Aleksander walks past you and Grisha start hugging Alina, welcoming her.

'You were perfect,' you laugh into Alina's ear when it's your turn. 'Truly. We should-'

'[Y/N],' you hear Aleksander's voice from the stairs. 'Can you come with me for a moment?'

You smile at Alina apologetically and turn to follow Aleksander. You hear Genya telling her you're one of General's most trusted Grisha and he often asks you to do things for him. You don't hear Alina's answer, however. You're completely focused on Aleksander who waits for you on top of the stairs.

'It didn't take as much time as I thought, so I find myself with a time to spare,' he says.

'What a coincidence,' you say. 'So do I.'

'Shall we finish then what we started in the morning?' Aleksander asks. You can't help but smile.

'I would be delighted,' you answer and follow your lover. He takes you to his chambers. Outside Ivan and Fedyor make sure you are undisturbed. Life is good.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Some of you may remember that in the first part it's mentioned you've never left Os Alta, implying you were born there. I changed it a bit, so it makes sense now. Thanks again and please, reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49547866/chapters/125170144

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars- Bad Batch) Snow Day - Intro

(Author’s Note:  Oyyyy, I wrote some fics for Mandalorian, and I was starting to miss the Bad Batch!  Well here is a new fic for them, and I hope y’all enjoy!

FYI, I intend to make a few different endings to this, so stay tuned.)

   Ever since you teamed up with the Bad Batch, you found yourself in a variety of interesting situations.  Sometimes it was a battalion of droids.  Other times it was encounters with aggressive creatures in the wilds of strange planets.  It was never a dull moment.  But you loved every single one with them..

   Even the one you were faced with right now.  

   “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, watching as the shadow steadily grew over your form.  It didn’t look like you could make your escape in time.  No.  The only option was to face your fate with dignity.  The tall figure in front of you raised his arms as you ducked.  He chucked the first snowball into your torso, knocking you straight off your feet.  “Wrecker!” you sputtered through the snow on your face.  “That snowball was literally bigger than a droid’s head!”  Your mouth opened in a wide grin nonetheless.

   He threw his head back and laughed.  “You had it coming!  You’re so petite.”

   “Yeah, and you’re strong,” you replied.  The largest Bad Batch member extended an arm, his hand covering yours.  The rush of cold air you felt as he lifted you to your feet made you giggle.  Wrecker leaned back, as if noticing something, and reached behind you to brush some snow off the back of your coat.  “Oh, thank you.”  The gesture warmed your heart.  He was so kind to the others and to you.

   You and the Bad Batch had some downtime on Hoth.  It was definitely not the most hospitable planet, but it was an interesting place if you were in the mood for some snow.  The harsh environment wasn’t nearly as bad in the day.  Nighttime was a different story, so the group planned to leave before then. 

   “So, what’s it going to be?” Hunter spoke up, hand on his hip in a casual stance.  His voice was muffled by the ski mask over his head that protected him from the cold.  The conditions were too poor for the crew to keep their armor on, so they donned winter gear instead. 

   “What do you mean?” you asked.

   “Well, you mentioned something about a snowball fight.  What does that entail, exactly?”

   Hunter gave a deep chuckle at the way your face lit up.  Crosshair rolled his eyes, as if to say, “here we go.”  Wrecker was already in the process of forming another gigantic snowball.  You stole a glance his way with a grimace, hoping you’d end up on his team.

   “We separate into two teams.  And then,” you deadpanned, “we throw snowballs at each other.”

   “And…?” Hunter prompted, tipping his head to one side.

   “And that’s it.”

   “How do you know who wins?” Crosshair questioned skeptically.

   “Whoever walks away with less frostbite, I guess.”  You gave a shrug, and Crosshair considered this for a moment.  He pulled the toothpick from between his teeth and tossed it in the snow.

   “I think you all should grow up” he muttered.  “But I don’t see that happening anytime soon, so I suppose I’ll join you.”  

   Hunter clasped his gloved hands together.  “We’ve got uneven teams, so how are we going to do this?” 

   “Wrecker is rather strong,” Tech piped up.  He had been rather quiet up to this point, taking the time to analyze the surroundings and watch the others.  “I say he should be on a team with one other person.”  You were about to raise your hand, but Tech was too quick.  “I’ll be on Wrecker’s team.” 

   That sly genius.  He was probably thinking the same thing as you.  He’d rather be on the team with the guy who throws snowballs the size of tauntauns and not be on the receiving end of said snowballs.  Your disappointment was short-lived, though, as Hunter summoned you and Crosshair to his side to discuss a quick strategy.  Tech went over to join Wrecker, and you gave a quick wave before turning your attention to the hushed discussion in front of you.  The three of you locked arms in a huddle of sorts.

   “Okay, so I don’t think any of us want to get hit by Wrecker,” Hunter said immediately, lifting a brow.  “Our best best is to be quick and to create as much confusion as possible so he can’t lock on a target.”

   “And how do we do that?” you asked.  “He’s got pretty good aim.”

   “Not as good as me,” Crosshair smirked.  “I’ll throw a snowball at his face.  It’ll blind him long enough for you two to get a few more shots in.”

   “Good,” Hunter nodded.  “Also, don’t underestimate Tech.  He doesn’t have Wrecker’s strength, but he’s probably cooked up a strategy as well over there.”  The three of you glanced up from the huddle briefly to see Tech talking to Wrecker. 

   “I think we can do this,” you said.  You threw your hand in the middle of the circle.  “Let’s go, team.”

   Hunter’s hand covered yours, and Crosshair’s covered Hunter’s.  When you broke the huddle, Wrecker was looking rather impatient.

   “Are we going to snowball fight, or what?”

   “Don’t worry,” Crosshair narrowed his eyes.  “We’re ready.”

   Tech opened up a holotimer that displayed numbers counting down.  “Snowball fight commencing in three...two...one...Fight!”

   The first thing you did was lay eyes on Wrecker.  You just had a funny feeling he’d go for you first.  To your dismay, you had been right in your suspicion.  He was already staring you down as he formed a snowball that could have easily been the bottom tier of a snowman.  As Wrecker readied himself to throw it, your first instinct was to find shelter.  Hunter was nearest, so you darted behind him.  The leader grunted when the giant snowball came hurling at him instead, and he fell back against you.

   “Thanks for the heads-up,” he growled sarcastically, straightening up.

   You held your hands up as he glanced at you over his shoulder.  “Sorry! I panicked.  Won’t happen again.”

   Meanwhile, Crosshair had prepared a small pile of snowballs, and he started launching a few of them at Wrecker.  Tech was approaching with a snowball in each hand, and Hunter leapt into action.  He quickly formed a snowball and pitched it right at his face.  He did a somersault out of the way as Wrecker chucked another snowball- large but not ridiculously so like the last one- in his direction.

   Crosshair fulfilled his strategy in throwing one directly at Wrecker’s face, and while he scrambled to wipe the snow off, you threw a few more.

   “I think we can win this,” you exclaimed with a laugh.

- - - - - - -  

   You pulled the shirt on over your head, reveling in the warmth of your pajamas.  The snow day was over when Tech alerted the crew that evening approached, and the drop in temperature would be damaging to the ship to the point where take-off most likely wouldn’t be possible.  A glance in the mirror turned into a steady gaze as you took in the way your eyes sparkled in the light of your quarters.

   It made you think back to what happened earlier… How a certain Bad Batcher in particular had paused to observe your face and complimented you on how pretty you looked in the snow.

   See, your team had lost the snowball fight.

   And it was because you were distracted by him.  He captivated you with the unexpected encounter.  The question was; what next?  How should you act around him?  Perhaps just keep going about things as you usually did?  It was difficult considering you were already crushing on him, and this situation didn’t help.

   Well the guys mentioned having a nice, hot beverage and kicking back for a while since the ship was traveling in hyperspace.  You wanted to join them, but part of you was still nervous.  

   “I’m definitely overthinking this,” you muttered aloud, turning away from the mirror.  With a sigh, you faced the door.  At the very least, you would be spending time with your favorite team, and that included him.

Wrecker ending: Here

Hunter ending: Here

Tech ending: Here

Crosshair ending: Here

[harmonizingsunsets]

I can feel your heart beating under my skin

Day 4 of Kate x Anthony week, prompt: no ifs, ands, or buts.

Archive link here.

(Also inspired by the leaked photos of season 2)

The Bridgertons invited the three Sharma's out for the last horse race of the season for entertainment. However, Kate knew this was all a scheme so Anthony could spend more time with Edwina. She didn't doubt the Bridgertons enjoyed watching a horse race, as they seem like the competitive sort. But, she knew Anthony's true intentions behind the invitation.

When they arrive at the event, Anthony's waiting right in the front. He smiles from across the way, and it grows even more prominent as Kate intensifies her glare.

"He looks rather handsome today, don't you think?" Edwina whispers.

"The color doesn't suit him," Kate shakes her head. However, her eyes linger up and down his form. "But I don't blame the shade. I don't think anything suits him."

"You both are wearing blue. It's like fate!"

Kate thinks that if fate was involved, it's more so a cruel twist of it than any romantic notions Edwina has in her mind.

As they near Anthony, his eyes find hers. She tries conveying as much distaste for being in his company that she can, without looking too impolite. Within a few seconds, Mary nudges her arm, making Kate think she hadn't succeeded in being conspicuous of her hatred.

He and the other Bridgertons escort them inside, but Kate stops by the betting area. It leads her and Anthony to row about the horses.

Kate wants to place a bet on the horse Apollo. While she's never been to a race in person, she keeps up with records in the paper. The odds aren't in his favor, as it's his first season, but he's been improving steadily over the past few months. Kate has a feeling that today will be his day.

Anthony, however, was placing all his money on Archer, the favorite of the year. Kate forces herself to raise her head high as she places her bet, showing complete confidence in her choice despite Anthony's warnings.

Edwina and Mary didn't place any bets. To be fair, Kate hadn't planned to make a bet either. However, she seems to be doing many unexpected things whenever she's in the presence of Lord Bridgerton.

When they make it up the steps to their seats, Kate asserts herself between Edwina and him. Anthony gives her an annoyed look, knowing what she's doing. Kate smiles broadly in response, turning her face towards the track.

"You can still back out, you know," Anthony whispers beside her. "They usually don't let people retract their bets, but I think they could make an exception. You know, if I tell them you're soon to be part of my family."

"No exception needs to be made. I am not backing out," Kate states firmly. "Why would I, when I have the winning horse?"

"Your winning horse hasn't won a single race in his career."

"It's his first year. His career is just getting started," Kate defends, squirming slightly. "Today is the day he will succeed."

"It's just like you not to root for the most accomplished horse, the one with the most promising record. Your logic goes beyond sense."

"And your pride goes beyond reason," Kate snaps.

"Beyond reason? Status, money, and coming from a good family are not reasons?"

Kate frowns, knowing that they are good reasons. They are reasons that would make any other sister proud to approve of such a match for their sibling. But it wasn't fair that Edwina had to take on so much pressure to marry well. Edwina should marry someone she has affection towards, who isn't such a rake.

But while Kate knows Edwina didn't love Anthony, nor would ever love him, she knows Edwina could be content. Anthony could give her anything she desired. She would be a viscountess, and their marriage, while not founded in love, could perhaps be based on respect. Most people were not so lucky to have such a match.

Yet, Kate couldn't approve the union. Not just because he was a rake, or because Kate found him intolerable—but because of something else. Something she can't describe but can feel twisting painfully in her gut whenever she pictures Edwina and Anthony together.

"They are reasons that society values, and I cannot ignore having merit," Kate relents after a moment, her words careful but firm. "But, they are not the only factors that matter."

Anthony's anger fades a little, his eyes focusing intently on hers. "What factor am I missing?"

Kate opens her mouth to respond but finds her throat dry. Anthony's eyes pivot their focus on her eyes to her parted lips.

She feels something undefinable in her stomach again. But this time, it's not a painful sensation. It's something warm and is more of a fluttering feeling instead of a tug. The only thing similar to what she feels when thinking of Edwina and Anthony is the same deep ache. It starts in the pit of her stomach and flows throughout her body.

Kate's startled out of her thoughts as she hears a horse neighing in the distance, kicking at the doors that contain them.

"It's about to start," Kate says, standing up with the rest of the crowd.

Anthony blinks a few times as if he'd just looked right into the sunlight and nods.

They both turn to the track. The crowd is abuzz with excitement. Kate hears someone countdown, and the horses begin running.

Kate gets swept up in it, standing up and shouting encouragement as Apollo gallops farther forward each second. Anthony cheers loudly for his horse beside her, who has a lead over the rest.

Kate also hears what she thinks are curses from Lady Danbury behind them. She mutters something about ill-advice she'd gotten before the race.

As the horses round the corner, Apollo edges past Archer, his speed increasing. Kate, in her excitement, whistles loudly, not caring at the moment how unladylike she appears.

When the horses are a few feet within the finish line, Kate feels a flash of lightning strike her palm.

Anthony's hand is suddenly in hers, gripping it tightly in anticipation as he watches the race.

Kate's breath comes in and out more sharply, unable to steady the pace of it. Her senses, instead, are all at work in her hand. They memorize the grooves of his palm and the warmth of his touch.

At that moment, Kate thinks her hand has never served its entire purpose as a hand until Anthony held onto it.

Apollo was edging past Archer, but her eyes couldn't focus on the horse. She stares at his bare hand, resting on top of her glove. Kate finds herself curious how it would feel if she took her glove off and entwined her fingers with his.

If Anthony's hand on her glove summoned lighting, she can't imagine what kind of storm would appear if his skin brushed against hers.

As the crowd's cheers become louder, she forces her eyes towards the track and sees her horse cross the finish line. Anthony's hand falls from hers, his mouth wide in shock. Kate jumps up and down in delight.

"I won!"

"You didn't win. The horse did," Anthony says bitterly.

"The horse I bet on, the one you said I was a fool to choose because no one else bet on it." Kate folds her arms across her chest with a triumphant smirk. "Well, Lord Bridgerton, sometimes the best bets are on overlooked things."

Anthony's disappointed expression falters, his eyes studying her intently.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmurs.

Kate smirks. "Did you just say I'm right?"

"I said perhaps," he specifies with a roll of his eyes. "I should fetch some refreshments if you're feeling faint and missing entire words from other's sentences."

"I don't feel faint. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time."

Edwina stands from where she had remained sitting the entire race. "I could do with a refreshment."

Anthony startles a bit, appearing as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"Ah, yes...of course. I shall return shortly."

"When you return, I shall be a richer woman," Kate says before he turns away, unable to resist continuing to jest about his loss. "I will pay you back for the refreshment since you are recently low on money."

"You are not a humble winner, Ms. Sharma."

"No, but I am a victorious one."

He shakes his head at her, but she can see a bit of amusement twitching at his lips as he turns away. Kate watches him leave for a moment. When she turns back around, she sees Edwina watching her with a coy smile.

"So, did you enjoy the race?" Kate asks.

"Not as much as I enjoyed watching you and Lord Bridgerton."

Kate gaps at her sister. "What are you referring to?"

"Oh, please! He forgot I was next to him. His only focus was on the horses, you, and your hand."

Kate shifts her feet awkwardly. "Perhaps he thought it was yours."

"Or perhaps, your hand was more enticing than mine."

Kate sighs. "Edwina, that's not—."

"Kate, it's alright," Edwina assures, not looking bothered in the slightest.

"No, it's not," Kate insists. "He's your suitor, a suitor who I do not approve of but is one nonetheless. He should pay attention to you and not the horses."

Edwina puts her hands on her hips. "Or perhaps, he's taking your advice and paying attention to a bet that's overlooked but extremely valuable."

Before Kate can respond, Anthony approaches their side, holding out glasses of water. "Here are the refreshments."

Edwina takes a glass, but Kate doesn't take hers, stepping around him. "I should head up to the box to claim my winnings."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

Kate narrows her eyes. "I think I can make it a few yards without a gentlemen's protection."

"Excluding my brothers in attendance, most men here are not gentlemen," he argues.

"Yes, especially when putting you into account," Kate says, enjoying the way his face hardens at her insult. "But, I think I can manage."

She doesn't want to leave Edwina alone with him, but Mary is on her other side, and his brothers are close as well. She doesn't trust Anthony as far as she can throw him, but she doubts anything improper would occur in such a public place or the presence of family members.

After claiming her winnings, Kate begins to walk back to her seat but bumps into Mrs. Bridgerton.

"Congrats on your win, Ms. Sharma," Violet says before Kate can get out her apology.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bridgerton," she says. "Did you bet on one of the horses?"

"I bet on something before the race, but it wasn't on one of the horses."

Kate quirks her head. "Oh really?"

"It was a bet that Colin proposed, that Benedict bet against, and I bet for," she explains, a joyful sparkle in her eyes. "I am proud to say that my son Benedict lost."

"What was the bet? That Lady Danbury would jump and ride her horse to victory if it hadn't gone fast enough?"

"No, but that would have been quite the sight," Violet chuckles.

"Then what was it about?"

"Let's just say the horses we bet on are closer than the ones on the track."

Kate's face flushes, and Violet's smile widens.

"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Sharma. Wish your sister my best."

"I...yes, of course," she stutters.

Instead of rejoining the group, Kate waits for them near the entrance gate. But she's not alone for too long. She sees Anthony approaching her by himself. The others must be still chatting in their seats. Kate considers turning away, but she knows it would look like she's trying to escape from him.

"So, you gathered your winnings for the horse?" he asks, pointing at the pouch in her hand.

"I—uh, yes. It's from no other bet, I assure you."

"You're cowering out on gambling after you've had your first win?" Anthony steps towards her and shrugs. "Just as well, it was due to beginners' luck, anyway."

"It was not luck. I made the right bet," Kate corrects. "Why can't you admit that I bested you?"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"This is fun?"

Anthony's eyes gleam wickedly. "Well, it is, isn't it?"

Kate's heart quickens, and she takes a step back.

"I should go to my sister, make sure you didn't sneak some potion into her drink to convince her that you're not intolerable," Kate says, changing the topic. "But if such a potion did exist, I doubt it would be strong enough."

As Kate begins to walk back, she uses the railing on the other side for balance. But as she reaches the edge, a nail snags on her glove, slashing right through it.

Kate curses under her breath, clutching her hand. Anthony quickly runs to her side, eyes wide and worried.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just tore my glove."

"And cut your hand," Anthony adds and holds out his palm to her. "Let me see, Ms. Sharma."

Kate whips her arm behind her back. "I am perfectly alright."

Anthony steps closer, a more serious look on his face than she's ever seen on him.

"Let me see."

It's not a question. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about Anthony's tone. Kate pulls her hand out from behind her back and hesitantly holds it out to him. Anthony takes it, gently slipping off her glove and inspecting the wound.

Kate forces herself not to shudder as his fingers dance across her skin. She knows he's trying to observe the cut, but his thumb lingers on each line of her hand, and he draws circles on her palm unnecessarily.

Anthony's heartbeat somehow passes through his touch, and she feels it beating underneath her skin.

"It's not too deep. Perhaps an ointment would make it heal within a week or two," Anthony says, his voice somewhat lower than before. He turns to look at the glove in his other hand, which has a large hole in it. "But I'm not sure your glove is as salvageable."

"I could sew it, but it would look rather obvious," Kate sighs sadly. "I better toss it."

She goes to reach for the glove, but Anthony pulls it out of her reach. "I'll take care of it."

"Discarding one glove won't make me change my mind about you and Edwina," Kate protests.

"I doubt it would," Anthony says, looking like he's fighting off a smile. "But just the same, I'll take care of it."

Kate wants to argue but sees that this is something even she can't move him on. She nods and continues her way back to their seats.

But, she unwisely spares a glance back at Anthony. He doesn't toss the glove. Instead, he pockets it.

Kate forces her eyes forward, trying not to get carried away in romantic notions that could never apply to her.

When she makes it back to the stands, she finds Edwina waiting for her.

"There you are, what took you so—wait, a different question," Edwina cuts herself off, looking down at Kate's bare hand. "Where is your glove?"

"Oh, I tore it against a nail."

"Where is the glove? Perhaps I can mend it."

Kate waves her off. "No, that's alright."

As Edwina studies her curiously, Kate thinks back to the feeling of Anthony's hand on hers and the weight of his stare.

Kate's previous notion had been correct. Anthony's bare hand in hers did bring forth a storm. It was a storm that was unpredictable and dangerous but alluring all the same.

"I have a feeling that glove is something I can never get back once given," Kate whispers, so quietly that Edwina doesn't hear a single word.

As they leave, Kate sees the clouds darkening and brewing with newfound energy. It tells her the storm isn't over.

Instead, it's just beginning.

[lowkeyjustvibing]

Fic time again

Pairing: Truce poly + Reaper and Epic

Prompt: Just some chaos

Also! We have:

Enby Nightmare, Reaper, and Horror

Neopronoun Error (string,strings,stringself)

aro/ace Ink and ace Reaper

Also human versions ‘cuz    y e s

*CRASH*

“YOU BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN ONE OF MY VASES INK!”

“You’re legit dead, bruh.”

“Shut up and run before they see us!”

Nightmare stormed down the hall, their tentacles thrashing wildly and just barely avoiding breaking some things themselves. Things like this (Which were once a rarity) had become quite common ever since the truce and the events that occurred as a result. In short, after peace was finally brought to the multiverse, both the Star Sanses and the Bad Sanses both realized just how dull life was without the other group present in their lives. 

The solution? Get everyone to live in the same house.

And since Nightmare was the only one in possession of a building big enough for all of them to live in, the Star Sanses just moved in. It was difficult to get used to the sudden change in living arrangements. Fights would break out on a daily basis over small things and it would be up to someone else to keep the peace. However, once they all managed to get used to each other, things went a lot smoother.

Or rather, smoother than before.

Nightmare finally reached the living room, sighing as they saw the shards of porcelain covering the floor.

“And this was one of my favorites too.” They muttered, picking up the shards.

Thankfully, one of the nice things about being covered in sentient sludge is that it works as great glue. In a few seconds, the vase looked back to normal (If you ignored the subtle cracks covering it).

“Now where’s that clumsy squid?” They mused, scanning the room.

At that moment Dust walked in, probably having heard all the commotion as well and coming to see what happened. When he saw Nightmare, he gave a small wave before flopping onto the couch and curling up under the blankets.

“Hey!”

Nightmare jumped and Dust practically flew off the couch, immediately grabbing the pocket knife he carried, manifesting a few blasters, and pointing them at the now wriggling blankets.

Nightmare just sighed, signaling Dust to calm down, “Ink, come out from under the blankets.”

After a few minutes of silence, the artist was heard quietly cursing before sheepishly poking his head out from under the blankets, “Um, hey Nightmare?”

Suddenly, another person emerged from the blanket as well, “It’s his fault, bruh!”

Nightmare just sighed again, pinching their eyebrows, “What have I told you about roughhousing outside of the gym and your own rooms?”

“Not to...” Epic and Ink responded simultaneously, both staring at the floor.

Dust just snickered, de-summoning the blaster and putting away his knife, “What is this, the seventh time you guys have broken something just this week?”

Ink stuck his tongue out at the other, getting rewarded with a similar action. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Nightmare said, “Ink, Epic, you two are doing extra chores this week.”

“What?!” Epic cried, “I didn’t even do anything, bruh!”

“Yes, because Ink decided to break the vase with no prompting.”

Epic just huffed and folded his arms, grumbling something unintelligible. Ink looked equally annoyed but seemed to accept what Nightmare said. 

“Oh yeah, Nightmare.” Dust suddenly piped up, “I think Error wanted you. Heard string say something about Reaper harassing strings.”

“Not again...” Nightmare muttered, walking off and leaving the other three to do their own thing.

On the way to where they believed Error was, Nightmare passed Dream’s room where he was helping Horror read a story Killer had gotten them for their birthday. It had taken a while for Horror to be comfortable asking anyone to help them read. They felt embarrassed that they couldn’t read on their own due to not only being slightly dyslexic, but also having poor vision. It always Nightmare happy to see somebody helping them. After a few moments, Dream looked up and saw Nightmare. He waved, smiling brightly and Horror glanced up, waving as well. Nightmare returned the gesture before continuing down the hall, they had a job to do.

“HI NIGHTMARE!”

Nightmare jumped, their tentacles instinctively sharpening and pointing towards whoever scared them.

“OH!” Blue cried before lowering his voice, “Sorry, I forget how loud I can be sometimes.”

After recovering from the shock Nightmare smiled, ruffling Blue’s hair, “It’s fine, you just surprised me.”

Blue beamed, giving them a hug, “OK!”

They returned the hug, giving the shorter and giving him a peck on the cheek before letting go, “Forgive me for my abruptness, but I have something to take care of at the moment. See you again later.”

And with that, they left a very flustered Blue standing in the middle of the hallway. Now, to finally find Error. They thought, a determined glint in their eyes. No more distractions.

“Sup Boss.”

Nightmare just barely suppressed a groan, “Damn it.”

Killer scoffed, “Well, I didn’t realize how little you liked my presence.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” Nightmare responded, continuing down the hall with Killer now practically skipping along behind them.

“Then what’s got ya’ so riled up?” Killer asked.

“I’m trying to find Error but I keep getting distracted by people.”

“Why ‘re ya’ trying to find strings?”

“Dust said something about Reaper harassing strings and I want to make sure Error doesn’t kill them.”

At that, Killer instantly tensed up, though he quickly hid his reaction, “Oh, you got any idea where string is?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Killer didn’t respond, only speeding up and quickly overtaking Nightmare. In turn, Nightmare began speeding up as well to keep up with him. They expected Killer to become worried once he found out Error was even mildly inconvenienced. Dust and Horror were also very protective of the glitch. They all saw strings as a parental figure of sorts (Along with Nightmare). 

“Calm down Killer.” Nightmare said, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.

Killer flinched and seemed to calm down a bit but he still radiated worry and anger, “Sorry, I’m just worried about strings.”

“I am too but you just need to calm down.” They responded, “It’ll be OK.”

Killer grumbled something but agreed following right alongside Nightmare.

“I wonder where-” Nightmare was cut off by a glitched out shout of frustration followed by a surprised yelp, “Found them.”

Killer broke into a run and Nightmare just walked along after him.

“Killer! Get away before I touch you!” Reaper cried, instantly stumbling backwards upon seeing the other.

Killer just scoffed in response and turned to Error who was still glitching slightly. It was obvious string was just frustrated with the pesky god, passive aggressively turning away from them.

Reaper finally steadied, brushing themselves off, “Well, that was an unexpected turn of events.” after regaining their composure, they turned to Error and did a dramatic bow, “Forgive me for my insolence my sweet cherry blossom.”

Error ignored strings blush and the fact that parts of strings were pixelating in and out of existence, “ץєคђ ฬђคՇєשєг, ןยรՇ ๒คςк ๏ŦŦ ๒єŦ๏гє เ ๔๏ ร๏๓єՇђเภﻮ ฬє ๒๏Շђ гєﻮгєՇ.”

Reaper took that as a win and grinned, spinning on their heel and walking down the hall, “I look forward to our next encounter beautiful~!”

“Sƚυριԃ ϝʅιɾƚყ Ⴆαʂƚαɾԃ.” Error muttered, though string wouldn’t deny the smile that tugged at the corners of strings mouth.

“You OK Error?” Killer asked, careful not to be too close without permission.

String nodded, “Yҽαԋ, αʅʅ Շђєץ ԃιԃ ɯαʂ ριʂʂ ɱҽ σϝϝ. Nσƚԋιɳɠ Ⴆιɠ.”

“They’re lucky I can’t touch them or else they’d be in danger right about now.” Was all he said, scowling at the floor.

Nightmare finally stepped forward, having just been watching the interaction, “Well, I’m glad nothing too bad happened.”

“Eαʂყ ϝσɾ ყσυ ƚσ ʂαყ σƈƚσρυʂ.” String responded.

Nightmare rolled their eyes, “My goodness, I thought we were over the whole octopus ordeal.”

“Never will be goop lord!” Killer said, instantly going from brooding to playful.

They sighed in disappointment before picking Killer up with a tentacle and motioning for Error to follow, “Anyways, it’s movie night.”

“Is it my turn?!” Killer asked, swinging his legs though being careful not to kick Nightmare.

“No, Cross.” 

Killer groaned loudly, “Oh come ON! You know full well he and Epic are gonna’ make us watch the Bee Movie again.”

Nightmare just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

“YES YOU DO!”

“Irrelevant.” 

Error snickered quietly at their debate, “ʏօʊ ȶաօ ʄɨɢɦȶ ʟɨӄɛ ǟռ օʟɖ ʍǟʀʀɨɛɖ ƈօʊքʟɛ.”

“Bold of you to assume we aren’t.” Killer retorted.

“I’m pretty sure we all are.”

“Whatever.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Nightmare turned and rapped loudly on a nearby door, “Epic, Cross, stop making out and come to the living room. It’s movie night.”

After a few moments of frantic shuffling from inside the room, Cross opened the door, looking quite disheveled, “H-hey Nightmare, we’ll be out in a minute.”

Somewhere inside the dimly lit bedroom a frantic voice whispered, “Close the damn door, bruh!”

Killer burst out laughing, Error barely kept stringself from glitching out from laughter, and Nightmare chuckled before closing the door in Cross’s flushed face. 

“Oh they are NEVER living this down!” Killer wheezed and barely managed to pat the tentacle holding him, “H-here, just put me d-down, I need to go tell the other two.” he wheezed out.

Nightmare set him down and after a few moments of trying to catch his breath, he was off, jogging down the halls and calling for Horror and Dust. After he was out of sight, Nightmare turned to Error.

“So,” They started, “Are you SURE you’re OK?”

Error looked at them in confusion for a moment before nodding, “Yҽαԋ, ʝυʂƚ ɠσƚ ƈαυɠԋƚ σϝϝ Ⴆყ Rҽαρҽɾ. I'ɱ ϝιɳҽ ɳσɯ.”

“Alright,” Nightmare responded, giving strings a soft kiss on the forehead, “but if they ever make you uncomfortable just tell them to back off. They’re a clingy flirt but they know to respect boundaries.”

String was now a blushing mess and Nightmare reveled in that fact, deciding to fluster strings more. 

“I hope you know I love you.” They mumbled, moving closer to Error (Who thankfully didn’t move back)

String was glitching hard, not from how close the other was, but from how flustered strings was.

Nightmare decided to continue, embracing strings in a loose hug, “You’re so wonderful, I could never live without you.”

“₦-₦ł₲Ⱨ₮₥₳ⱤɆ...” Error responded and upon hearing how bad string was glitching, Nightmare backed off slightly.

After a few moments, string pulled them back into another hug, burying strings head into their shoulder. Nightmare was caught off guard but smiled and proceeded to hum quietly while holding the other. They occasionally gave more compliments just to see Error get flustered again while they both stood there in the empty hallway. After some time, Nightmare found themself wanting to make the other all the more flustered, just to see what would happen. They lifted a hand to strings cheek and moved strings so that they were face to face. The only warning Error got was a mischievous look in Nightmare’s eyes before their lips met. It was brief, nothing too long so as to not cause Error to crash, but Nightmare savored the brief moment.

After a few minutes of stunned silence, Error’s cheeks began to burn. String glitched sharply, trying not to crash as Nightmare began to regret the impulsive decision.

“Are you O-” Nightmare started but was stopped as Error, in a similar moment of impulsivity, kissed them again.

Now it was Nightmare’s turn to be caught off guard but they weren’t about to waste this. They kissed back and absentmindedly began fiddling with strings hair. 

That was until they heard the sound of a phone camera clicking and snickering from a bit down the hall. They both instantly looked over and saw Cross and Epic snickering as Epic pointed his phone at them. The effect was instantaneous. Error crashed, scratchy dial up noise filling the hall and Nightmare’s tentacles sharpened and pointed towards the other two as their cheeks turned bright red.

“Go.” Was all they said and Cross instantly grabbed Epic and sprinted down the hall, cursing as he ran.

Nightmare uttered a few curses themself and turned back to Error who was still rebooting. It took a minute but string eventually finished, blinking a few times to clear the lingering pixels and error signs.

“₮ⱧØ₴Ɇ Ⱡł₮₮ⱠɆ ₳**ⱧØⱠɆ₴!” String cried, the glitches returning for a moment before calming down.

“Calm down Error.” Nightmare said, barely retaining their own composure, “It’s not like they can even do much with that picture anyways.”

String muttered something incomprehensible before just groaning and resting strings head on Nightmares shoulder, “ƈǟռ ʏօʊ ǟȶ ʟɛǟֆȶ ƈǟʀʀʏ ʍɛ? ɨ'ʍ ȶɨʀɛɖ ռօա.”

“Of course.” They responded, doing something similar to what they did with Killer and carrying strings in their tentacles.

They had discovered that while physical contact still caused strings to glitch occasionally, somehow their tentacles didn’t seem to trigger it. So, of course, whenever Error crashed and was too tired to walk much, they would always carry strings in his tentacles. As they walked, Error sighed contentedly and buried strings head in the mass of pure negativity. Nightmare couldn’t help feeling proud that they found a way to practically smother Error while not hurting strings, something very few could accomplish. They eventually got to the theatre room where everyone was either chatting amongst themselves or engaged in the giant pillow fight occurring in the middle of the room.

“Are we watching a movie or...?” Nightmare said, their voice seeming to magically project to every corner of the room and quelling all the chaos.

“I’ll get popcorn!” Dream said, jumping to his feet and running to the kitchen as Blue and Horror followed. 

Nightmare sat Error down gently on the couch, making sure string was comfortable before moving around the scattered cushions and sitting next to strings. It took a few minutes for the other three to get back and by then, the movie was already chosen. As expected, it was the Bee Movie. Everyone was either howling with laughter or completely enraged by this development. The popcorn bowls were distributed across the couch and floor where everyone was sitting and the movie started. No one was watching the movie. Instead, they were all either talking or cuddling with the nearest person. Nightmare did the same and cradled Error in their tentacles along with Blue, who just happened to be sitting nearby, and reading a book.

The thing that snapped them out of the world of the thick novel was loud snickers coming from one side of the room. Killer, Horror, Cross, and Epic were all just barely keeping from bursting out laughing at something Ink was showing them. Out of curiosity, Nightmare reached out with a spare tentacle and snatched the sketch book, earning an indignant shout from Ink. They ignored it and opened the sketchbook, skipping past a few other, incredibly well done, drawing to what the other four were looking at. 

So to say that they were shocked upon going from a drawing of a forest the looked like it was a picture and not hand drawn to some horrible amalgamation of Barry B. Benson and Shrek was an understatement.

Error (Who just recently woke up) and Blue saw the drawing and started snickering as well. Nightmare just stared at it in disgust and confusion.

“I don’t understand why you waste your incredible talent on such horrendous things.” Was all they said before giving the sketchbook back.

“Whatever Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Ink huffed, holding the book close to his chest as if someone else was about to take it as well.

After the laughter died down they all returned to what they had been doing. It was still odd to many of them. The fact that some were sitting side by side with who used to be their mortal enemies was still a foreign concept but it wasn’t unwelcome. 

“Love you guys.” Dust whispered and everyone in the room looked at him in surprise.

After a few moments of Dust feeling incredibly self conscious about the fact that everyone was staring him down, Error responded.

“ʟօʋɛ ʏօʊ ɢʊʏֆ ȶօօ.” String said, cuddling closer into Nightmare.

A chorus of “Love you”s Rose from around the room as they all relaxed, enjoying the feeling of peaceful quiet. Well, at least until tomorrow when they were all reenergized and ready to cause more trouble.

--------------------

I FINALLY FISHING FINISHED OH MY GOSH

This took SO long to do (Almost completely because I procrastinated so long-) and I’m glad I finally finished it! 

I hope this makes yalls as happy as it made me while I wrote it :)

[chiefdirector]

Could you do an Umbrella Academy fic where the reader is a Hargreeves kid and one day she sneaks out and meets one of the superpowered kids born on Oct 1st, 1989 who Reginald didn’t get. Their power is very simple and wouldn’t be helpful in a combat situation, but they become best friends with the reader. Vanya finds out where reader’s been sneaking off to and (maybe accidentally) tells Reginald, who forbids her from seeing them again. She asks if her friend can join the family (part 1)

Remember Back When | Vanya Hargreeves | The Umbrella Academy

1997 • The Park

“That’s super cool you know,” 8 year old (Y/N) Hargreeves said to Malorie Lorenzo, “So much more fun than mine.”

“Oh please, you’re a member of the Umbrella Academy. You’re famous! You’re Number 8: The Shadow.” Malorie responded as she ripped more bread apart to feed some ducks with. “All I do is make flowers grow.”

“You’re more powerful than you think, Malorie.” (Y/N) looked down at their wrist watch. Realising that it was nearing their curfew, (Y/N) apologised to Malorie before darting back to the Academy.

2019 • The Umbrella Academy

Stepping through the doors into the hole they once despised living in, (Y/N) Hargreeves sighed. She had only returned because of the unexpected passing of her adoptive father, Reginald Hargreeves. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was glad her bastard of a father was dead.

Seeing her brother and sisters talking at the staircase, (Y/N) approached them slowly. “Hey, long time, no see.”

“Look who showed up! Dad’s first disgrace.” Diego snapped before storming off to presumably go bully Luther.

Allison smiled. “Ignore him, (Y/N). He hasn’t changed since we were kids.”

“Yeah. No kidding” (Y/N) laughed. “It’s good to see you again. And you too Vanya. Actually, I was wondering if we could talk.”

“Uh... sure. Dining room?”

(Y/N) just nodded before hurrying inside the room, her thoughts going a mile a minute trying to think of just how she would say—

“Sorry.” Vanya blurted out.

“What? Why are you sorry. I’m the one who needs to apologise.”

“It was my fault.”

“I said it though, and I never apologised!”

1997 • The Umbrella Academy

(Y/N) knocked on the doors to her fathers office. He had sent Pogo to find her since Vanya had told him where she had been sneaking off too for the last year. He was determined to put a prompt end to her stupid and reckless behaviour. “Enter.”

“Father, what do you need me for.”

“To listen and comply, like you were always meant too. And like what Vanya has done by bringing your acts of rebellion to my attention. Now, Number 8, who have you been sneaking of to go see, without my permission may I add.”

“Her name is Malorie.” (Y/N) took a deep breathe before continuing. “She is also gifted like my siblings. She can make plants and nature grow from a single touch.”

“And I suppose you were seeing if she was going to be useful here?”

“Yes, father.”

Standing up, Reginald walked over to his decanter and poured himself a glass of bourbon. “That’s where you’re wrong, Number 8. We don’t accepted useless people with useless abilities in the Umbrella Academy.”

“Then why is Vanya still here?!” (Y/N) said, storming out of her father office, not realising that with her out burst, she had ruined her relationship with her sister for many years to come.

2019 • The Umbrella Academy

Looking down, (Y/N) twiddled their thumbs, trying to figure out what was the best thing to say. She had so many things she wanted to share with Vanya from her life away from the academy, but more so, (Y/N) wanted to hear all about the life Vanya had. She never read her book, knowing that it may further ruin her relationship with her sister.

“You aren't useless. You're quite useful actually.” “(Y/N), don't. we don't have to do this.”

“If you want useless, look at Diego. What type of power is knife throwing? Anyone can throw a bloody knife.”

You both dissolved into giggles and headed towards the parlour where Luther was summoning everyone from, something about Reginald’s death, or whatever murder mystery he had come up with. However, no matter how sad the day was going to be, (Y/N) felt a little lighter inside, knowing that she now had her sister back by their side. 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN -

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

[giant-sketches]

The Library

Awesome! Another short side done for you all to enjoy. This one is completely by me without any kind of prompt attached so I hope it’s just as nice. 

In this story Logan is a scholar living in a house on the outskirts of town. He’s been living there for five years now, adding books to his ever growing collection. However, such a long time of isolation has weighed him down and he’ll need a helping hand in getting back on his feet. A tiny hand that is. ;3

This story includes 3 sketches and 1 colored page.

Word Count: 4787 (a long one!)

Disclaimer: isolation, alluring to depression, anxiety, mention of vomiting, kind of steamy 

“Thank you again Mr. Logan for helping us find the last herb we needed for healing our father.”

“You’re welcome. Now for my payment please.”

“Yes of course, here you are. This is a story our late grandmother read to us as children. We’ve memorized the tale so we have no need to keep the book around.”

“It's only been collecting dust on the bookshelf. It could use a new home.”

Graciously, Logan took the book and inspected its title; The Prince of Syds. The book was of the fairy-tale variety and told of a Prince that went on many harrowing adventures. The book was of a decent thickness and looked to be an interesting read for the scholar tonight. Casually, Logan hopped back on to his horse and trotted off back to his secluded homestead.

Logan was a recluse that lived a decent distance away from the neighboring towns. There in his comfy abode he collected a variety of literature and stored them all in his personal library. The library consisted of a multitude of genres from mystery, adventure, romance, nonfiction, maps, journals, and more. Logan was never picky when it came to a new read and he was titillated with his current find.

Like a child at Christmas, Logan pulled up a chair to his desk and gingerly turned the cover. Inside the book read a tale of The Prince of Syds that was on a quest to save the princess from the villainous Dragon Witch. While the initial premise may appear cliche, the story had many unexpected twists and turns. One of them being that the actual Dragon Witch was his twin brother that had been kidnapped as a baby and was being controlled by a sorcerer called D.

“Interesting, I had found it curious why this Dragon Witch had not just attacked the kingdom as a whole and only settled for a mere princess we hadn’t previously been introduced to. To think it was the Prince’s brother who was still fighting against the mind control placed on him.”

Logan rubbed his eyes as a tiny yawn escaped his mouth, “I should call it a night and return to my chambers.”

Another yawn, this time more pronounced, caused Logan’s mind to lock onto the idea of sleep. In his haste he simply placed the book onto his ‘to read later’ podium, left wide open. As Logan slumbered the book started imitating a mysterious glow as the pages flipped furiously to the start of the story. Once the book stopped on the page showcasing the Prince character a small hand covered in light stretched out and pulled its remaining parts out of the book. Now free from its bindings a tiny man now stood upon the page in confusion.

“Wha-what is this? Where am I? Just a moment ago I was conversing with my long-lost twin brother and now I’ve suddenly been summoned to this unfamiliar realm filled with giant objects.”

Frantically, the tiny man looked about the darkened room. He searched desperately to find something recognizable, but his eyes failed him. Distort, he huffed loudly,

“I can’t see anything in this darkened place, but I can at least see where I stand. I’m high up, too high to get down from so I shall remain here.”

Frustrated at his own uselessness the tiny man laid himself down on the pages folded beneath him and fell asleep until beams of warm sunlight awoke him. He gave a small yawn as he stretched unaware of the figure looming behind him.

“How peculiar.”

Shocked, the tiny man spun around to face the booming voice that ringed through his ears. Instinctively he yelped and jumped to his feet in order to take a defensive stance, but as he motioned downwards towards his hip a grim realization hit him. He was unarmed as a giant towered over him with peering eyes. Despite his fear he called out to the massive figure,

“Stay back giant fiend! I may be unarmed, but I’ve faced worse in more dire straits!”

Logan raised an eyebrow in response as he leaned in closer allowing his face to catch the light of the sun.

“I can assure you I am no fiend nor am I a giant. You are simply small and…” Logan paused to contemplate. “Actually, what exactly are you?”

“First off I am not a what, but a who. For who I am, I am Prince Roman of Syds!”

Prince of Syds? Is this the character from the book he was reading last night? Quickly, Logan glanced behind Roman to see that the pages had gone blank.

“The pages, what happened to them?”

In one swift movement Logan slammed his hands onto the podium causing Roman to lose his balance and fall on top of the giant hand. Dazed, Roman groaned at the sudden movement as he tried to lift himself back up. He stopped when he realized what he was holding on to and blushed.

“Why are they blank?” Logan was panicked.

Roman snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to the upset giant. He appeared concerned over the book that once housed his being. Even he had no idea what had happened honestly.

“I’m sorry, but even I have no idea what’s going on. All I know is I can’t return though I must be here for a reason.” Roman looked at the giant with pleading eyes, hoping this would calm them.

Logan huffed and raised his hands away in retreat. If this was the case there truly was nothing to be done.

“No need to give such a look, I believe you. Still, since you will be held up here for a time I might as well be a gracious host and make the best of this perplexing situation.”

Logan stepped back and took a deep bow towards the prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Your Majesty. My name is Logan the Scholar and this is my home and personal library.”

A library, so that’s where he was. Roman looked around at the now lit room in awe, he had never seen so many different kinds of books. His eyes sparkled with delight as he himself enjoyed a good tale from time-to-time. Excited, Roman turned to ask if they could read one together, Logan however, had already made his way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to make a record of what’s going on for future reference and historical relevance. I have never heard of a book character coming to life before. You’re an astounding find.”

With that Logan turned the corner towards his room to retrieve his journal. All Roman really pulled from that statement was that his new giant friend found him astonishing. Boredom quickly overcame him as he laid down on his books empty pages and stared at the ceiling. He so wished he could roam about the room and read right now, but alas he was limited by his tiny stature. However, an ominous figure was stealthy creeping its way towards him.

“This truly is an amazing event to watch transpire in person. I must make haste to record what I can of our interactions. There are too many unknowns that could affect how long he will remain here.”

Uncharacteristically Logan gaily retrieved his journal from his nightstand drawer and made his way back down the hall to the library in a hurry. Right before reaching the door an all familiar sound came from behind, ‘meow’. Logan went pale and slammed the door open with a fright,

“ROMAN?!”

Yet, Logan’s fears were unwarranted as his eyes locked on to the adorable scene of the tiny prince cuddling with his uninvited and fluffy guest.

“Oh Logan, you’re back! Look at this adorable beast that has submitted to my charms so willingly. She will make a grand stead for my time being here.”

Oh thank heavens; Logan sighed in relief. For a moment there he feared for the worst.

“Pray tell, what name have you bestowed upon this fair feline?”

“Name? It doesn’t have one. It’s simply a stray that wonders in from time-to-time and I share leftover scraps with.”

“Just a stray, you say. No this cat is indeed yours Logan and as her owner you must grant her a suitable name at once!”

Logan was taken aback by such an absurd command and scoffed at the notion of even following through with it, until another soft meow rang out. Logan twitched slightly as he felt the cats warm fur press up against his pant leg affectionately. Roman looked on with pure delight on his face.

“Yep, she is indeed yours. Now a name if you would Sir Logan.”

Logan’s face scrunched up in embarrassment. To think he had been persuaded so easily by a pretty face and a fluffy tail.

“Cat should suffice.” he groaned.

“CAT?! Are you mad?”

Startled by how loud the tiny man’s voice could carry he jumped back in surprise.

“You’re an intelligent man, surely you can come up with a better name then that!”

“Fine! How about….Jam?”

Logan’s face flushed instantly at such a silly name, yet the cat’s appearance reminded him of marmalade.

“Jam? I like it, quite a cute name coming from someone so stern.” he chuckled.

Right now Logan’s face resembled that of a strawberry as he coughed to move the conversation along.

“Can you tell me the last thing you remember before you were summoned here?” Logan asked as he picked Jam off the floor and carried her back over to his podium.

“I was talking with my long-lost twin brother about a plan to take down the evil sorcerer D and free him from the curse. Next thing I knew this bright light swallowed me whole and I awoke to a darkened room with only strange, and large shapes surrounding me.”

That sounds terrifying and yet this hero found his surroundings safe enough to slumber in?

“Interesting, that correlates perfectly with where I left off with the book.”

“Really? What does that mean then? Will I ever be able to return and finish my story? Wha-what if I’m stuck here forever?”

An unusual sense of guilt washed over Logan as he looked down at the tiny prince. He couldn’t help feeling that somehow this was his fault even if there was no proof for said theory. Regardless he needed to do something to comfort Roman. Gingerly he raised his hand and patted Roman rigidly on the head in an awkward attempt to cease his woes. Roman, however, found the mechanical motion hilarious.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Roman had slumped over in laughter as he rolled playfully on the podium.

Logan found the reaction jarring as he simply rested his hand down and remained still. Obviously, Roman was now feeling much better, but at what cost to Logan’s pride. Once Roman stopped he could see how distort his giant friend looked and confidently walked over to the resting hand.

“I’m sorry for laughing, Logan. I know you were only trying to comfort me and I appreciate it. I feel much better now.” he said as he wrapped his arms around Logan’s pinky and planted a charming kiss on the knuckle.”

At that moment it was like a dam broke as Logan was overcome with emotions he had locked away. The sensation was so jarring it nearly knocked him out cold. If he hadn’t already been sitting he most certainly would have fallen to his knees. Any longer and he would have melted into a puddle, luckily Roman snapped him back to reality,

“By the way do you live here by yourself? I have yet to hear anyone else walking around or any other noises for that matter.”

It took a moment for Logan to compose himself, but he answered with a cooled down expression.

“You are correct in your assumption. I do indeed live here by myself and I have for many years now. Thus, you have no need to worry about anyone else discovering you are here. I can guarantee your safety Roman.”

Logan smiled the best he could, but it faded quickly as he saw small tears peering out from the corner of Roman’s eyes. Did he say something wrong? What could have been his miscalculation?

“Logan tha-that’s so sad!”

“Sa-sad?”

What was this tiny prince saying? If anything he was the happiest he had been in a long time right now.

“Yes sad, this place is huge and yet there’s NO ONE here? What about friends or family?”

That’s what he meant. Logan put on a cold demeanor as he remembered why he was here.

“No, I have no one like that and that’s just the wa-”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Logan’s fake face shattered in an instant by way of Roman’s concerned words. It would seem he couldn’t feign callousness with this one. He was now an open book.

“Fine, I won’t try that again. Still I’m not good at expressing myself and it’s true that I don’t have any friends or family. Not anymore at least.”

“Anymore? So you did have them once.”

“Yes.”

Roman wiped his tears away and choked down the lump that had formed in his throat. Logan was just like the princess he was sent to save in his story. All alone in the world with no one else there to help her. No, Logan wasn’t fictional, he was real and so was Roman right now! He had a wonderful idea,

“Then let’s go out and make some new ones!”

“Excuse me?”

“If you don’t have any friends then you just need to get out there and make some!”

“I-I don’t know…”

“It will be fine darling. Besides I also want to take a look at your realm before I leave.”

That’s right he was going to leave eventually. A slight pain coursed through Logan's heart. If they didn’t have much time together then maybe going out together was the best idea.

“Alright, but you have to stay close to me and not be seen by anyone.”

“Understood!”

With that Roman bounced with anticipation as he watched Logan’s hand lower down to him. Without hesitation, the tiny prince climbed aboard mesmerized by the site of him resting in a massive palm. His life was now completely in Logan’s hand, but he felt no fear. Carefully, Roman was slipped into Logan’s breast pocket. It was so warm as Roman pressed his back up against Logan’s chest to look up at the opening a few centimeters above him. Logan’s heartbeat pounded vigorously causing his entire body to pulse. The sensation was like nothing he had felt before as it overwhelmed him and he quickly fell forward against the other side of the pocket’s fabric walls.

“Are you doing alright in there?” Logan could feel the abnormal moment and grew worried.

“Yes, I-I’m alright. Just got a little warm is all.”

“I see, if that’s the case then here.”

Logan poked his pointer finger into the opening of the pocket. Roman could tell what Logan was going for as he clung onto the huge amount of flesh and was lifted up. Once his head had reached the lip of the pocket Roman latched himself on. Now he could breathe in the fresh air of the outside world.

“Is this this a town?”

“Yes, it’s the one that’s easiest to walk to and a good place to find magical items and good like spices and tea.”

“Oh so you all have magic in this realm as well?”

Logan paused for a moment before answering.

“Yes we do. Now try your best not to get over excited and pop out of my pocket okay?”

Tenderly this time Logan placed his finger on top of Roman’s head and ruffled his hair. The motion pleased Roman greatly as he blushed deeply. He felt extremely cared for in this moment. Usually he was the one doing the swooning so this was a nice change of pace.

“I’ll never leave your sid-”

Before Roman could finish his confession two loud voices called out from behind the pair,

“LOGAN?!”

Logan froze, he knew exactly who was there. He squeezed his eyes in fear and began to shake nervously. Roman had no idea what was going on, but he fell back into the lower part of the pocket and stretched out his arms in a comforting hug. Logan twitched a bit at the sudden feeling of the prince’s tiny frame pressed up against his. Yet, he found his touch pleasing as he placed his hand over his breast pocket in response. He could feel Roman being squished in between his hand and chest. Roman let out a light giggle at the return hug.

Thanks to Roman’s efforts Logan had calmed down and turned around to speak to the two mysterious figures waiting patiently.

“Patton, Virgil...it’s been awhile. How are you both?”

“Oh my gosh Logan, it really is you!”

“Where have you been? After...well you know, you just disappeared. Some people were even saying you might have died.”

“Yeah, we were so worried!”

“I can’t imagine why? As you can see I am doing quite alright for myself regardless of these so-called rumors.”

“You can’t imagine why...Lo aren’t we your friends?” Patton whispered through teary eyes.

“Geez Logan, we’ve finally been reunited after five years and this is how you act.” Virgil growled.

Logan was visibly agitated. Unclear of what had happened with these three Roman hesitated to step in, but shook his head at the notion of letting this opportunity slip away. Roman tugged at Logan’s shirt to garner his attention. Logan noticed and sharply glanced downwards, but his expression softened as he saw his tiny friend pinching his cheeks upwards in a smile. It didn’t take a genius to see what Roman was getting at.

“You’re right Virgil.”

“I’m sorry did you, mister know it all, say that I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I had wondered how you may have changed after all this time. Glad to see you learned some humility during that time.”

“I suppose I have changed, though I can’t say it’s not a recent development. Regardless I’ve had plenty of time...alone to think about my past attitude. I apologize for upsetting you Patton.”

“An apology as well? Now I’m not even sure I’m talking to the same gen-”

“That’s enough Virgil, he apologized after all. I know you’re upset, but…” Patton looked to Logan with a solemn look.

“Lo? Have you been alone this whole time?”

Logan swallowed loudly.

“...I have a cat.” he mumbled.

Patton’s face lit up at the idea of grumpy Logan playing with his cuddly pal, but a cat wasn’t a person. Virgil gave Patton a look of concern and grabbed his hand. Patton smiled and gave a nod.

“Would you like to hang out with us and catch up?”

“Oh I…”

Logan glanced down at his pocket where he took note of Roman’s shallow breathing and reddened face. It wasn’t a good idea to keep him trapped inside his breast pocket for much longer.

“How about I invite you two over to my residence instead? That way you’ll know where I live.”

“That sounds lovely Lo, we’d be honored to come over to your home. Wouldn’t we Virgil.”

“Yeah, it will be nice to catch up and tell you what’s been going on.”

With that the newly formed group took off to the outskirts of town. Once inside Logan’s abode the two were amazed at his collection, but even more astonished he hadn’t lied about the cat. Patton was instantly smitten with the fuzzy creature. After Logan finished up the tour Roman was placed inside his room on top the pillow. There he lied down with his body completely spread and finally relaxed. It had been a long day for the prince and he was understandably exhausted.

“How about you get some rest while I go entertain our guests?”

Roman yawned, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Logan carefully covered Roman with his handkerchief and caressed his face as he whispered, “Sweet dreams.” and tip-toed out of the room.

It wouldn’t be until a couple hours later Roman would wake up as he rolled over to be face-to-face with a slumbering Logan. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed the giant climb into bed, but maybe he was just that tired. Lost in thought Roman continued to stare at the snoozing behemoth. He smirked mischievously as he crawled his way up to the top of the pillow. Logan’s hand was in the way, but if he aimed right he should make it. He tested for any wind resistance and blinked twice to turn on his targeting systems before hurling himself downwards towards Logan’s face. Thankfully, he stuck the landing!

“I certainly have found myself in a peculiar predicament being suddenly transported to this giant land, but I believe this lovely princess right here makes it worthwhile.”

Pressing his lips to Logan’s the prince planted a barrage of kisses on to his sleeping beauty.

“Even if I am never to return, I believe I’ve already found the princess I was meant to save.”

Funny enough, Roman was now unable to make the climb back up the steep hill that was the pillow, but he didn’t mind. He simply made his way to Logan’s hand and squirmed himself between the fingers. Slowly, Roman fell back asleep and dreamed of his beloved.

An entire week flew by as Logan reconnected with his friends from his school days. Roman heard from Logan about what had happened five years ago and what led to his separation from society. It was a tragic tale of him being born without the ability to wield magic, but gifted intellectually. His noble family deemed him worthless and disowned him when he turned sixteen. Determined to prove them wrong he enrolled himself into the Magic Tower. To pass over the casting exam however, he forged his entrance papers by pretending to be a famous magician's apprentice. There at the academy he was deemed a prodigy and his brilliance flourished. Yet, despite his best efforts he was found out and promptly expelled with all his achievements and research being awarded to other promising students.

His entire existence was wiped from the Tower’s records. It was like he never existed in the first place. Having fallen into despair Logan simply thought disappearing was the only logic course of action. After all that’s what everyone wanted wasn’t it? However, that wasn’t true as his two friends had been searching for him this whole time. Once they heard about what the academy had done to Logan they were outraged and exposed the entire thing. The Tower lost its spotless reputation overnight and disbanded. Together Virgil and Patton put together a new institution that enrolled anyone interested in magic regardless of their abilities.

Logan felt like a fool for hiding this entire time without once thinking of looking into how things were developing without him. He had planned to move on, but instead he had become complacent, stewing in his own misery. His friends had helped him finally realize his error in judgement. However, it was Roman that had brought light back into his darkened life. He needed to properly thank him after Patton and Virgil left from their weekly visit.

“He’s doing so much better now. I love seeing him smile like that and he’s got this cute pep in his step too. Gosh, I didn’t think he could get even more beautiful, but he’s full of surprises isn’t he Jam?”

“Meow.”

“I hear you! I’m really happy for him, but...I’m a little jealous of his friends. I wish I could be out there with them chatting and laughing.”

“Meow”

“I know! Logan wants to keep me safe. They don’t visit for long anyway and then the rest of day I have him to myself.”

“Meow”

“Sure our relationship hasn’t changed...at all.”

“Meow”

“What confess?! I couldn’t I-I’m not even real. That’s right I’m nothing but a character from one of his many books.”

Roman looked sadly around the library where he was sitting on top of the desk and snuggling with Jam. He was one of many stories Logan owned, no one special.

“I’m not his happily ever after.”

Spontaneously, the blank book resting on top of the podium was enveloped in a light glow. Roman sprang to his feet in surprise as the light beckoned to him. He knew then that his quest had come to an end. Roman gave a whistle for Jam to carry him up to the podium.

“Thanks girl.”

Roman stroked the bridge of Jam’s nose dismally. Meekly he glanced towards the door hoping Logan may walk into the room any moment now, but no dice. The glowing had become more intense as Roman neared it. This was the end of his story, who knew it’d be a tragedy.

“Goodbye Logan.”

Not able to stall any longer Roman dived into the light and vanished as a gigantic flash spread throughout the entire house.

“What in the world was that?!”

“Ah my eyes!”

“What just happ- no,no,no,no!”

Logan’s stomach dropped at his current thought. He rose from his seat so fast he thought he would vomit as a sickening feeling crept up on him.

“Woah Logan are you okay, You don’t look so well.”

“I’m fine, I just need to go check on something real quick.”

“You are not fine! Why don’t we help you an-”

“NO! Please I-I need to do this alone right now. It’s important, please.”

“Bu-” Patton pulled Virgil back and shook his head.

“We understand Lo, go do what you have to do. We were about the leave anyway.”

“Thank you, both of you.”

With that Logan raced down the hallway and burst through the library door.

“ROMAN?!” no answer.

Logan frantically scanned the room, but all he saw was Jam standing on the podium. What the podium! There he could see Roman’s book with the pages now visible peeking out from underneath the cat. Slowly, Logan dragged his feet to take a closer look and gently shooed away to fluff ball. Sorrowfully, he turned each new page not caring to full read the paragraphs as his tears welled up. The story had changed to his own of finding the prince in his world and asking for his help in ending his isolation. Yet, as Logan reached what should be the end, what he found was another blank page. Too distraught to think about what this might mean he closed the book and clung to it. Pressing its entirety against his chest as he fell to the floor screaming out in pain.

This new found happiness meant nothing to him if he couldn’t spend it with the man he loved.

“Why, why did you have to go? I never got to tell you how I felt! What’s the use of these new emotions if I’m never given the chance to express them?”

Logan continued to weep long into the night. Never once allowing the book to leave his side as he finally tired himself out enough to sleep. Birds chirped per usual as the new morning came. Begrudgingly, Logan groaned as he went to reach for the book he had cuddled with all night only to find it missing. Panicked, he rubbed his puffed up eyes to better focus on his surroundings. Suddenly, he was caught off guard by the touch of the leather backing poking at his face. Logan whipped his head around to see who the perpetrator was that had snatched his book only to be met with an unbelievable sight.

“Ro-Roman?”

The man standing at the foot of the bed was none other than Roman, but he was now the same size as Logan.

“Ho-How is this possible?” Logan was overcome with emotion as tears began streaming down his face.

“Look.” he whispered.

Roman had turned the book to the final page, but this time it wasn’t blank. Instead what appeared on the page was a beautiful illustration of Logan and Roman holding hands and kissing in front of the house. Logan shaking in amazement, took the book from Roman’s grasp and started lovingly at it.

“Seems like I was your happily ever after, after all princess.”

Logan was happy, so happy he didn’t know what to do with all of it. In a bold move he pulled Roman on to the bed and curled himself around him sobbing. He was never going to let his prince go ever again. Roman tucked himself into Logan’s embrace and whispered into his ear,

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen​ @sanderssidestrash27​ @nomynameisanon​ @crystalk17​ @notkolaidoscop​

[petri808]

Natsu finding out about Aquarius's key. Nice big fight leading to them breaking down and, finally overcoming the horrors they kept inside. Lucy x Natsu please please I love your work. Big fan!

I realized this would work for day 3 of Nalu Week too.  Here you go, hope you like it :).   *Um, let’s just say this takes place between the 1 year gap and Alvarez Arc*

Beneath the Surface

@nalu-week Day 3 Lost prompt

Natsu dodges another attack from the leviathan, but its massive teeth nicks his side.  He rolls onto the sand clutching at the small wound, sealing it shut for now as the creature sinks below the waters of the bay.

The slayer grits his teeth against the pain.  “Lucy call Aquarius!  If we can get the monster onto land it’ll be easier to handle.”

“I—I… No, there’s gotta be another way.”  Lucy mumbles as she scrambles to think of another plan.  

She rushes over to where Wendy was coming to and helps the girl to stand.  “Are you okay Wendy?”

“Yeah,” the poor girl rubs the side of her head.  She’d taken a pretty good hit that knocked her out cold.  “Did we get it?”

The celestial mage shakes her head.  “Just went back under.”

After helping Gray back to his feet too, Natsu and he hobble over to the two women along with Erza. “Lucy,” Natsu places his hand on her shoulder.  “Why can’t you just call Aquarius?  You keep avoiding...”  

Three sets of eyes look away.  This wasn’t the first time they’d watched Lucy avoid the topic, but they knew the reason, Natsu didn’t.    

“Don’t worry, we don’t need her help,” Gray steps in to change the focus away from the girl who was clearly in pain.  “It’s okay man,” he pulls Natsu back, “I got a plan.”  

Natsu’s brows furrow, but he nods and backs off for now.  This conversation may be over for now, but he was going to get to the bottom of it.  Could the celestial mage and the spirit have had a real falling out?  Aquarius could be temperamental and often fussy about being called, but he knew they were close because of the connection with Lucy’s mother and it made no sense for Lucy to be completely avoiding the spirit.  

Two days later when the team had arrived back home in Magnolia, he decides this matter couldn’t wait any longer.  What if the next time they were in a bind, they couldn’t rely on Aquarius.  Lucy had gone straight home without speaking to him and it didn’t take a genius to figure out she was still upset over the mission.  Part of him felt like an ass for pushing, but hey, he needed to know if there was something wrong!  And based on their reaction on that beach, it made him angry to feel like their friends knew some that he didn’t about her.

When he reaches her apartment, Natsu notices that Lucy’s window is closed.  Since when does she close her window in the summer time?  So, he knocks on her door instead.  “Lucy, it’s me, Natsu.  Can we talk?”  He hears her feet shuffling along the floor, coming to a stop on the other side.  

“I don’t really feel like talking Natsu.”  Her voice is quiet but serious in nature.  She exhales, “maybe some other time.”

“I’m not gonna drop this Lucy.  I know your upset so please, just let me in so we can talk…”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it!!”

Whoa!  Such a severe reaction coming from her was unexpected, but he was just as determined to get an answer!  He lowers his tone.  “Lucy. If you don’t open this door right now, I will break it down!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I will!”

“Damn it Natsu, my landlady will kill me if you do!”

“Then I suggest you unlock the door!”

After a moment’s pause, Natsu can hear the exasperated sigh she lets out, followed by the click of the lock. He tests the knob and when he finds it unlocked, makes his way inside.  Where the hell is, she now?!  Lucy wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, but the bedroom door was closed.  Are they really going to do this again?  He tries that door’s knob and surprise, surprise, it’s locked.

“I warned you Lucy.”  He gives her no time to respond, simply melting the handle off and flying the door open.

Lucy jumps off the bed and beelines it towards Natsu.  “What the hell is wrong with you?!”  She punches his chest a few times unleashing a whole lot of pent up anger that she didn’t even realize she’d been harboring.  “I’m not ready to talk about Aquarius!”

“But why?!”  Natsu grabs her wrists to stop her from swinging, shaking her a bit to snap her out of it.  “What the hell is going on?  Are you two fighting or something?  Just tell me! I can’t help you if…”

“Her key’s gone Natsu, that’s what the hell is going on!!  Okay! Are you happy now!”        

That stops him cold.  “Wait, what do you mean gone?  When did this happen?”  He lets go of her wrists and Lucy stumbles back to her bed.  Natsu follows and kneels down in front of her, but she’s buried her face in her hands and refuses to look at him.  “Lucy, please just talk to me!”

“I lost her…. During the Tartaros fight.  Had to sacrifice her key to summon the Celestial King.”  Lucy reaches into her pocket and pulls out the remnant of Aquarius’ key. She briefly shows him the piece before palming and gripping to it tightly.  “I miss her so much.  It kills me Every. Single. Time, I think about it.”

Natsu sits back on his haunches, completely shocked by this revelation.  All this time…. “How didn’t I know…. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Sooner?!”  Lucy glares at the slayer.  “You fucking left right after we fought Tartaros Natsu!  Without even saying good bye!”  Her fists clench even harder and it takes every ounce of willpower not slap him.  “I’d lost my oldest friend.  I lost my best friend.  I lost the guild that I love.  Everything fell apart at the same time!”  Tears pour down Lucy’s cheeks, but she makes no effort to stem or wipe them away.  She didn’t care at that point.  Her body and mind grew numb as she relived one of the most painful of all her memories.  “I felt so alone.”  Her head hangs low, eyes squeezing shut.  “It took me a while to find the strength to go on…. To find a reason to keep going and you know what?  No matter how angry I was for you leaving…. I used that to push me past it all.  Fine, if you went away to get stronger, then that was what I did too.  But the pain never left me.”

A palpable silence falls between them, but after a few minutes, Lucy finally gains the courage to look at Natsu again.  His head is lowered so far down that she can’t even see his eyes, shoulders are slumped, and his hands are clenched beside him.  “Well,” she prompts, “now you know why I was so angry with you.  Do you have anything to say?”

It was a lone droplet hitting the ground, that made Lucy realize the slayer had heard her loud and clear.  

Another droplet…. And another, but he continued to sit there unmoving.  All the sorry’s in the world would still be meaningless.  Natsu had no idea that he’d hurt his best friend so badly and it killed him inside.  He didn’t even believe he had the right to ask for forgiveness.  

“I don’t know what else to say, except…  I’m sorry Lucy... for everything.  I-I didn’t realize…” he exhales.  “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most and I just hope that one day we’ll be able to move past this because I don’t want to lose my best friend either.” Natsu stands up and turns to leave. “So, I-I’ll just leave you alone now.”

Lucy stands up and before Natsu reaches the door, grabs him, wrapping her arms around his waist without saying a word.  Yes, she was still angry… but that didn’t mean she wanted to lose him too.  “Don’t go,” she murmurs against his back.  “We’ve both lost someone we love, and while I’m still upset, I—I need you Natsu.”

Natsu squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back another wave of tears.  He places a hand on hers.  “I promise you Lucy, I will never leave you alone again.”

[ff7central]

Creator Spotlight: Licoriceallsorts

Miri here, with the next entry in our Creator Spotlight series. This time the random number generator has summoned: Licoriceallsorts (Licorice, Lic, Liccy) @allsortsoflicorice

Want to be on a future spotlight? Sign up on the FF7Central directory to get in on the list: https://goo.gl/forms/u0h5rJXmgv40zX9m2

Miri: Is there an idea or AU you want to write but haven’t been able to yet?

Lic: Yes, I have some ideas knocking around in my head about how teenage Rufus became the secret backer of Avalanche Mark I.

I would like to finish my Shakespeare version of Advent Children, but since I stopped being an English teacher I no longer get the regular injections of Shakespeare that inspired me. (Miri: Ooh, Shakespeare)

Miri: Who has been the most difficult character to write? Who has been the easiest?

Lic: Cloud is far and away the most difficult. I have never been able to 'hear' a voice for him that sounded authentic and convincing. He has so many personalities, and at the same time, none. Writing him from the perspectives of other characters is much easier. They each see him differently; they interpret him in a way that fits their own needs.

Rude is a challenge. He keeps himself to himself. He's a good POV character when you need someone to see an event with crystal clarity, but he's reluctant to talk about his feelings.

Tseng is like my second self, but I'm aware there are many other possible, alternative Tsengs with voices I can't hear so well. Rufus, Reno, Tifa - they're my other go-to POV characters.

Miri: Which of your works is the most memorable to you? I don’t necessarily mean favourite or best work, it could be the work that taught you the most making it or that holds a special reason in its creation. Drop a link.

Lic: Can I pick two? (Miri: Of course!) "Death is Part of the Process" is very dear to my heart. I started writing it almost as soon as I got into the fandom, which happened just as I was coming out of a very traumatic time in my life, a time full of upheavals. The reader can see my knowledge of canon and game lore improving as the story progresses! It was meant to be a one-shot and just grew and grew into this huge complex . It was a crutch to get me through some difficult years; it was my escape from reality. I felt as if I was learning how to write all over again, and it made me fall in love with writing all over again. There's a lot of, for me, experimental writing in the first parts of DIPOTP. Plus, I made some good friends with that fic. I left it unfinished for almost two years, but I knew I owed it proper closure, and finally I rounded it off.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5734947/1/Death-is-Part-of-the-Process

"The Constant Lover" is my love-letter to this fandom that has given me so much pleasure. I'd been wanting to write a Tseng/Tifa for years, and when the idea for this fic finally dropped into my head, the thing practically wrote itself, very quickly, over one long weekend.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/942239

Miri: Favourite party (three person team) idea when playing FFVII? They don’t have to actually work mechanically (or even be possible in the game), just that you like the idea of them together as a fighting party.

Lic: Cloud, Tifa, Barret, the original three

Miri: Pantser/Emotive Writer/Gardener or Planner/Structured Writer/Architect? (Do you outline or just go with the flow?)

Lic: I always have a general idea of the story I want to tell. I always know how it will end; I know where I'm going. I rarely know exactly how I'm going to get there. The writing can only begin, however, once I'm able to "see" the opening scene like a film in my mind's eye. So I'd say I'm a combination of planner and pantser - plantser?

Miri: Any Remake thoughts you’d like to share?

Lic: I hope it comes out before I die! It will be what it will be. If we don't like it, at least we'll always have the original game. I guess I hope they do some exciting, innovative, and unexpected things with it, so that it isn't just the OG with more realistic graphics. Although I don't think anything will ever beat the beauty and detail of the OG's pre-rendered backgrounds: the rugs, the tiles, the toilet paper....

I hope they let us see more of Midgar. I think everybody would like that. It would be great if they made the sewers into a proper dungeon!

Finally, I hope that SE gives the open world the feel of a world that is complex and busy and economically active. It makes no sense for Midgar and Junon to be the world's only cities, and while they could get away with that in 1997, it won't wash now. I hope we can see highways and railways in the distance, and towns and cities, and farms and vineyards, even if we never get to visit them. When we take the ferry to Costa del Sol, I hope we can look out to sea and see other ships passing.

Miri: What do you do when you get stuck on a project?

Lic: if I get stuck for five minutes, I make myself a coffee or do some housework. Ironing is great for getting the ideas flowing. If I get writers block, I might: re-read it from the start; put it away until I feel like working on it again; start writing something completely different. I had writer's block for years before I started writing DIPOTP.

Miri: What’s your ideal writing environment? Background noise, indoors/outdoors, desk/couch, etc.?

Lic: I write on my laptop, Google docs, while lying on my sofa looking out the balcony doors at the lake and the mountains. I used to like background music but now I can't stand it, which is why I can't write in coffeeshops; they usually have some muzak on.

Miri: Do you do commissioned fics, requests or prompts? (If you have a page for it, drop a link.)

Lic: I will sometimes do prompts but I have to "feel" it.

Miri: Anything you’d like to say to the community?

Lic: It's been a pleasure!

Miri: It’s hard for me to read through everything you’ve done to pick stuff to mention. Is there a particular piece you’d like plugged?

Lic: I'm partial to the backstory I invented for the Turks, and for Shinra Inc., in "A History of the Turks"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603219/chapters/17304169

[theawkwardterrier]

2018 fic roundup

Buffyverse

well tell her that I miss our little talks So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again) Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened

MCU

But A Walking Shadow Out of the Frying Pan Hand in Hand, Side by Side to walk to where you are sleeping To The Neighborhood Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? By Those Who Show Up Stitch Together In Spirit of the Season Childhood Friends

Veronica Mars

not just about being new (it’s about a change)

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?:

Still not predicting, but probably around the predictable amount? I've gotten a little longer, I think, but I'm writing fewer stories overall, and I've really fallen into a few specific fandom categories - haven't added a new one in a while.

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?:

Dick/OC. Dick/anyone was a surprise. I'm generally frustrated and uninterested in Dick, so taking him on as a main character - when typically he's been a side role in my fic at best - is unexpected. I was just really drawn to the prompt.

3. What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

I'm really proud of To The Neighborhood. I like the POV, I think the character flowed well, it has a particular tone throughout, and everything is built using small details without info dumps. And I'm always a big fan of domesticity too - sweet, settled life is always a joy for me to write!

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

It's weird to say at this point, but I think I've been playing around with AUs a little too much. Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) and Hand in Hand, Side by Side are really prime examples of this: they aren't just timeline changes or ways of placing the characters in similar roles in non supernatural settings, they are way, way big and entire AUs. I really like them conceptually - ya girl loves a good (or not good!) romcom - but they are really quite out of the ordinary. I guess I learned that I kinda don't care - I wrote it because I liked it, and I had fun with it!

5. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

Nah. I finished my Woman Borne sequel, which was the goal I had set at the beginning of last year, and I'm probably just going to resign my work on my too ambitious Chase/Cameron fic, so I'm good.

6. From my past year of writing, what was…

Story Most Underappreciated by the Universe:

But A Walking Shadow. I'm not afraid to say how sad I am about this. I'm really, intensely proud of this story: the writing is good, the characters are good, it's lengthy (for me), it's chapter fic, it's part of a universe I've already worked on, there's action instead of just Emotional Talking - it felt like I did everything right, and it still didn't make a difference.

Most Fun:

Hand in Hand, Side by Side probably - I like Steve/Peggy and a Virtue/Moir AU for them was a blast to write. But I actually had a lot of fun with a bunch of them!

Most Disappointing:

By Those Who Show Up is a little too liberal wonky - too much political talk, not quite enough emotional buildup. To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened is also a little exhausting and repetitive in concept and would have probably been better if there were more substance between the little stories, but I really like the title, so that helps it out.

Most Sexy:

Steve and Peggy end up in a bed and kiss there in Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? so ha ha ha, that is extremely sexy!

Hardest to Write:

They kinda ended up in either the "it took four days from beginning to final edit" category, or the "I'm afraid I might just be writing this for the next several years" one this time around. I took a lot of care with But A Walking Shadow, and I stopped writing Childhood Friends for a while to work on other stuff and there was a point where I couldn't make In Spirit of the Season not incredibly depressing and a piece of Peggy character assassination, but most of my Buffy fics were like this (well tell her that I miss our little talks was the exception - that's why it's listed as posted like three weeks before the rest of them).

Most Unintentionally Telling:

As I was writing In Spirit of the Season, I literally said aloud, "I think I might have something weird going on internally with motherhood."

Choice Lines:

From But A Walking Shadow:

The force of her fingers, the directness of her gaze: for a moment he fears that she is about to kiss his mouth with the desperate confidence he’d felt before he’d boarded Schmidt’s plane. But instead, she leans up and presses her lips beneath his ear. He shivers; he always does, there, and she knows that.

He just can’t think of the noise and the flames, the collapse, when his mind and heart and guts weigh so human inside him.

The anger is worn and so tired inside of him.

"I don’t want to kill you,” says the man, pushing the words out. The soldier's arm, built to last, built to kill, shakes at the thought that he will die gasping. “And I don’t want to die. And I can’t bring you to meet my family like this.” His frame trembles. His eyes are magnified, wide as the stars.

There is such future and fragility in yet.

He remembers the way she fit in two hands the first time he held her, how she sometimes trips downstairs and curls up sleepily in his lap when he comes back from a run early in the morning. He loves her so much. Finally, he hugs her. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” he says, and lets her go.

From to walk to where you are sleeping:

“Enough is enough,” she tells herself most mornings, when she wakes up gritty-eyed and already teary from dreaming. “Enough is enough,” when she wants to tell Steve about her day, when she spots hair like his from the corner of her eye, when she has another lonely cup of tea at her table, when she wants just a bit of his optimism to drive her onward. “It was two years out of more than twenty, it is time to be done with mourning, enough is enough.” And then one night she opens her eyes into the darkness of her bedroom and tells herself, “Enough.”

He is here, he is here: what fragile and disturbing joy.

She watched so many good people die - not just Steve, not just her brother, but the boys who came from her home village, and the sweet air force pilot she’d kissed on the New Year of 1940, and the lady who’d sold ice cream through the Blitz and been suffocated by an improperly constructed Anderson shelter - and perhaps she doesn’t have to turn her grief out of doors and lock herself up.

From To The Neighborhood:

For a moment, she regrets not having one of those emergency call buttons that her daughter Joan (Dr. Oglethorpe hasn’t been allowed to call her Joanie in years) recommends when she makes her monthly call from Columbus, or at least a cellular phone.

From Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling?:

Steve rests his hands on her wrists, so gentle, and she wants to cry. “Peg,” he says quietly, “can you maybe track me down a pair of pants? I know my legs aren’t really working yet, but I’ve had enough of showing off in a hospital gown for one lifetime.”

From By Those Who Show Up:

“Hell yeah,” says Bucky. “I was over there ten years and only lost an arm. Six months of doing this with you and I’ve basically lost my life.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m thinning up top, Steve, I swear to God.”

From well tell her that I miss our little talks:

(Note to self: start organizing things on the kitchen calendar. Note to self: get a kitchen calendar.)

There's basically cartoony whistling sound, like her optimism is Wile E. Coyote falling off a cliff.

She hugged a pillow against her chest. She’d sign him up for a couple of community college mailing lists; maybe sitting in the back of some dense philosophy class would remind him why college wasn’t for everyone, or at least distract him. Her luck: he’d get all nerdy enthusi-Angel and just double down on the college fun talk. She really missed him. “Anyway,” she recalled herself. “I’m thinking maybe going all in on the spick and span could have something to do with you turning the dial up to Angel on the Broodometer.”

"....You’re allowed to think that you’re worth more than him, even if he was the one with the pulse.”

From So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again):

Also, Angel has to be worried about being ‘busted, and not just in the Dust way.

How glad she is for him, knowing what he’s been through, knowing for herself how frightening it is to dangle unsupported and exhaust yourself hoping for a loving hand.

When Willow is like this, firm steps and a commanding voice, closed eyes as she puts a hand on the last sorcerer's shoulder, it’s hard for Buffy to hold in her mind Willow shy and sweet at sixteen. But then Will nods to Buffy, and without a thought, Buffy fells the robed woman. They’ve both changed. Neither of them will ever be sixteen again.

From Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?):

“No. I’m counting on you to do the right thing for everyone, even if it might happen to include you.” 

From To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened:

“He was younger than I am now, and older than you would want to be.” 

From Childhood Friends:

Peggy, who had spent the afternoon she received the letter holding the hand of a boy - and he had been a boy - as he screamed and screamed toward death, had delayed replying, as she had not been able to summon a response to such grievances for nearly a week.

That she had spent her childhood at this very house with her dresses in a hopeless muddle and her knees insistently grass-stained, and that Steve had recently seen her in both a wrinkled nurse’s uniform after a night shift and indifferent mourning crepe below a tear-stained face, made her only more determined to put her best foot forward in this encounter.

...and Peggy concentrated on the feeling of his hand in hers, on the heat of him through his jacket, and felt despair and grave hope.

But her husband, who remembered a similar expression on his own mother’s face when he had professed his intention to marry Amanda, upon hearing whose surname even Charles II would have replied “Whom?” pulled her toward himself once more and said only, “Let them dance.”

[baekyeolife]

Baekyeol Fanfic - The Moon Keeper and The Sun Soldier Part 7

Baekhyun sat on the grass with knees folded into his chest. He stared at the shy stream in front of him and moved his eyes from side to side, causing the tiniest of waves to form and break at his command. He hadn’t been in his mind, though. Thoughts came and sent him into a spiral of regret and deep guilt. He had spent most, if not all, of his afternoon that way.

“Wow… are you doing that with your eyes?” He heard an unfamiliar voice say from behind him, so he turned around and found a man standing with hands to his hips, eyes reaching brows.

Baekhyun stopped the motion and nodded, “Who are you?”

The man walked forward and prompted Baekhyun to stand up. “Oh, sorry. I should’ve started with that.” He scratched the back of his neck, “People call me Weion, but my name is Jongin. I’m here with princess Kyul of the Zarthains.”

Baekhyun looked around as if to see the truth behind his words, “Who is princess Kyul?”

Jongin blinked, stunned at his ignorance. “She is the heir to the Zarthain throne, as well as prince Chanyeol’s suitor.”

He hadn’t known why, but Baekhyun felt a murky sensation cloud his chest. It was heavy and hard, and he didn’t like it at all. How come Chanyeol never told him?

“Prince Chanyeol’s suitor? How come no one is talking about it within the kingdom?” Baekhyun figured that if it was such grand news, then it would have made it to the tongues of all the workers around him.

“They had kept it a secret. It was a backup plan in case the convergence failed, and when it did, Prince Chanyeol avoided any meetings with the Zarthains. So no one had a chance to suspect anything.”

Baekhyun's lips opened. “Oh…”

“But Jongdae tells me that he’s planning an artificial convergence, so I’m here to help.”

Baekhyun looked up at him, realizing then that he had been standing at quite the height compared to him. “How?”

Jongin shone a simper, revealing pearly whites. “I am also a descendant of the moon. I wanted to give you some pointers about water enhancement, but you can move the stream just by the flick of your eyes; I can’t even do that. But you are the moon keeper, so I shouldn't be surprised.”

The corners of Baekhyun’s eyes dragged down, dubious. “Don't think too highly of me. I’m not much of a moon keeper.”

Jongin waved a hand at him, brushing the comment away. “You're still very new to this title, so don't sell yourself short.”

Baekhyun hadn't believed his words, but he couldn't say much as he heard the low faint voice of none other than the prince himself. He turned in expectation, but only saw the grass and the tall bark of trees. He then realized the voice came from inside.

It had been so loud it felt like he was right next to him.

“Can you not realize how rash this is? You have to wait until the artificial convergence at the very least!” Chanyeol sounded beyond furious, and Baekhyun glanced over at Jongin, who happened to turn to him at the same time.

“It’s about the arrangement with the Zarthains, I presume.” Jongin explained, and Baekhyun pulled his lip down to the side, eyes planted to the grass below. He felt utterly terrible. If things had gone the way they were supposed to, none of this would be happening. What a mess he had created.

“How can my own son be so foolish? That is a mockery to our ways and our people! The convergence failed, Chanyeol, and you can’t just summon one at your command!” That snarky voice had definitely been the queen, Baekhyun noted. It made the hole in his stomach expand.

“That’s not good, the queen doesn’t sound too pleased about the artificial convergence.” Jongin stated, brows cut in a line.

“If marrying the heir to the Zarthain throne will end the war, then why is that a bad thing…?”

Jongin gave him a firm look, “Because once The Prince seals his fate with another, you and him will no longer be bound by the sun and the moon. The linkage between the two of you will cease to exist.”

Wind poked his eyes as they widened, not expecting that. “Would I lose my abilities as the moon keeper?”

“Not quite. You will no longer be able to connect with The Prince like you do now. All of the qualities that intertwined you will come to an end.”

Baekhyun felt his shoulders deflate. “So… we won’t be able to heal each other anymore?”

“Not only that-- you two are intertwined in so many different ways. The power you give to each other is very complex, healing is not even half of what you’re able to do for each other. Oh my… I don’t think you know what you two are capable of. ”

And for some reason, that also managed to rip through the mess from within. He hadn’t even discovered these qualities that bound him and Chanyeol together, but they already seemed to be splitting apart.

“I can show you if you would like.” Jongin suddenly offered, and Baekhyun didn’t really care. He was helpless at this point.

Feeling guilty and utterly diminished, Baekhyun decided to see how Chanyeol was doing at such a stressful time. If he had felt that terrible, he couldn’t imagine how Chanyeol was feeling.

The door had been shut when he got to his chambers, and when no answer came after knocking on the hardwood, he turned the knob slowly to peek inside. The room had been empty, so he stepped all the way in and let the door come to a light close.

With furrowed brows, he walked passed the bed that hugged the room together and to the other side of the room, where he opened the double doors into the balcony. There laid a lake that seemed to be… boiling.

Taken aback, Baekhyun approached the strange phenomenon with careful, measured steps. How could a lake boil-- it was something he had never seen before. But he knew one thing: if there was heat, then there had to be Chanyeol. So, he rose his hands and with it came the roaring waters of the lake. The boiling hadn’t stopped as he lifted the liquid, but that didn’t stop him from moving more and more until he reached the dirt of the earth.

Just as he suspected, there had been a latch waiting to be opened. It slowly began to ascend the closer Baekhyun got, so he was able to climb down the latter after it began to close once again. Only then did he let go of the waters of the lake.

Of course this had been a cave, and as he walked down the barely lit path, he wondered why Chanyeol hadn’t showed him this cave as well.

He knew he had been close when he began to hear grunts and the flicker of a flame. When distance was no longer an issue, he came face to face with a steaming Chanyeol, literally. He had a flame pulsing in his hand, arms dusted with ash and flesh reddened to the core. He threw the flame onto the steel wall in front of him, only to conjure up another to give it the same fate as the one that just flashed before his eyes. Over and over again.

His veins had become lava red, shining through the burned skin like a trail of gems. They shone each time Chanyeol formed the balls of fire, and needless to say, Baekhyun was aghast.

“Chanyeol! Stop!” Baekhyun marched over as Chanyeol whipped his body towards him, shock dawning his brows.

“Baekhyun? What are you– how did you get in here?” He was breathing heavily, chest protruding in and out in a quarter of a second.  

“Why does that matter?” Baekhyun looked over him in concern. “What are you even doing? You’re hurting yourself!” He took a moment to inspect the burns scattered all around Chanyeol’s skin, something stinging against his own skin the more he picked out the burns.

He reached a hand out to attempt to heal him, but Chanyeol grabbed his wrist before he could make contact, causing him to flinch. “Don’t. I don’t deserve to heal.”

Baekhyun’s eyes turned down in sadness, “Of course you deserve to heal.” His hand slipped down from his grip, “How can you say that?”

Chanyeol looked away, head hanging. “I'm not fit to be a prince, or a ruler, or whatever these people need me to be. I can't do anything right.”

Baekhyun felt something stab him deep into his insides. It was hard and heavy and piercing, and watching Chanyeol like this only elongated the hurt.

Picking his hand up, he slowly moved it over towards his cheek, where he was relieved that Chanyeol hadn’t swatted him away. Baekhyun picked his head up and made him look at him. “Don't say that, you're doing everything you can. Sometimes you have to be what you need to be, not what everyone wants you to be.”

It was silent for a moment as they took one another in, Chanyeol skimming past the features that made up Baekhyun’s face while he couldn't help but do the same. It was as if their eyes had been doing the talking for them. “Maybe you could think of a plan–”

Chanyeol suddenly grabbed Baekhyun by the small of his back and swept him deep into his embrace, where he dropped his head down against his shoulder and held him tightly. “Can we just… stay like this? Just for a little while?” A low rumble ensued from within Chanyeol’s throat, passing into his ears.

Baekhyun felt something spring throughout his body at the closeness. It had seemed like the flame that blazed throughout Chanyeol’s veins crossed boundaries over into him. Being held by him like this, it was something so liberating and unexplainably tranquil. It felt so right.

So Baekhyun wrapped his arms around the burnt flesh of Chanyeol’s back and leaned into the crook between his neck and shoulder, eyes closing as the beat of his heart took over. Of course, he had wanted to say, but he couldn’t quite use words at such a moment.

Baekhyun felt himself go adrift, a lightness circling about him the longer they held onto one another. It was truly amazing, he thought. How suddenly being inside Chanyeol’s arms transported him to a place far off the ground, to a place of freedom.

He hoped that Chanyeol felt the same way, and by the way he kept tightening his grasp onto him, Baekhyun thought he just might.

Then something unexpected happened. Just as Baekhyun buried himself deeper into Chanyeol’s chest, he felt something… come out of his fingers. It was warm and fluid, like water. He sensed it moving up and onto the surface of the sun soldier’s back.

Having felt this as well, Chanyeol stiffened slightly and pulled back, their lower halves still pressed together but their upper halves having separated. Baekhyun didn’t quite like the feeling of him moving. He almost groaned, but caught himself.

“Wait are you… healing me?” Chanyeol asked, something different having gleamed in his eyes. He had went from angry frustration, to innocent freshness.

Baekhyun blinked and looked at his hands, and found his veins glowing in the color of what seemed to be the ocean. He glanced back up at Chanyeol, dumbfounded. “Am… I?”

“Yes, you are. You’re finally doing it awake.” Chanyeol smiled and his whole demeanor managed to change. He didn't know if it was because he was one with the sun, but he could see the flame fizzle through his eyes. The determination was loud and clear. But what he was determined about, Baekhyun did not know.

_______________________________________

Author’s Note:

Oh my goodness I am so sorry for the long wait >< you would not believe my struggle the past few weeks T-T Not only did I get the flu, but I had to study for horrid midterms on top of that. But at least I finally managed to get part 7 up!  I have no idea how long this will be btw, when I first started this I didn’t really think it would be so long xD Hope it was okay x.x What did you think got into Chanyeol at that last part? :3

[tisfan]

Hope I'm hitting up the right author here - for the Communal kitchen verse, can I request a fic where (since they have many children now) bucky and tony are constantly interrupted trying to have teh smexy times?

cowritten by @27dragons 

A/N As might be obvious from the prompt, this fic contains a LOT of smut, grouped together by ridiculous situations. Almost getting walked in on by kids (no actual smut is going on while the kids are in the room, but it’s a close thing. Rikki is 20 in this fic.)

For Communal Kitchen followers; this story takes place after End of Tomorrow and is some silly antics to comfort you after a rough ride with EoT.

For NON communal kitchen readers: the plot to the rest of these stories is mostly irrelevant except to note the following relationships: Rikki, Jaime, and Sasha are Bucky’s children, as part of a Hydra experiment. Zoya/Zinobiya is Natasha’s daughter via Tony as the sperm donor (sort of… it’s complicated. Read Through Him, Me and Fertile Ground if you want the background on that)

Sasha/Sav is Inhuman, as well as being part supersoldier, so he has some interesting abilities. They don’t come up in this fic, but it’s what Jaime’s looking for; the coldcuff controls Sasha’s abilities and keeps him from setting himself (or other people) on fire

The Long Winter

The meeting broke up early.

Tony didn’t get to say that very often; in his experience,meetings tended to run over schedule, rather than under. But this meeting brokeearly, which meant Tony had two whole hours for lunch before he had tobe at some investor presentation on pain of having one of Pepper’s shoes shovedup his ass.

There were other, much more pleasant things to do with his ass inthe two hours he had, so rather than fuck around with traffic, he left Happy tobring the car home and took the armor instead. He called Bucky as he tookflight. “Hey babe, guess what? Meeting’s out early. You free for an earlylunch? Or… lunch?” Best to be at least a little subtle; these days,Tony never quite knew when an impressionable minor would be listening in.

“Oh, I think I can bring you a little somethin’,” Bucky responded.“Managed t’ get Sasha to eat and he’s actually napping.” There was ahasty scrambling noise before JARVIS cut the connection.

Tony didn’t bother with the doors or the elevator, either. They’dbarely had time for a parting kiss that morning before Tony had to leave forhis meeting, and Tony wanted to make the most of every second of hisunexpectedly long lunch break. He did one acrobatic swoop around the penthouse,because it was fun (and because he was pretty sure Bucky would already bewatching) and then dropped onto the landing gantry and let the automated systemstrip the armor off. It needed to be cleaned and checked for wear, anyway.

And if he put a little extra strut into his step, well, that washis own business, and his husband’s.

Bucky was leaning against the wall, partially hidden in theshadows, arms crossed casually over his chest. “Ain’t you a sight?” He steppedinto the light, the thin tank he was wearing still damp with sweat and histight workout shorts clinging to his thighs. He let the corner of his mouthtwitch up into a grin. “Wasn’t expectin’ to see you til dinner.”

“I wasn’t, either,” Tony agreed. He stepped out of the boots, thelast of the removal rig folding away, and another two steps brought him withintouching distance of Bucky. “Guess I just got lucky.” He dragged a fingertipdown Bucky’s arm. “Your turn to get lucky?”

Bucky caught Tony’s fingers, turned his hand and brought it to hismouth to kiss Tony’s palm. “With you, always,” he said. He sucked Tony’s indexfinger into his mouth, teasing, watching Tony’s face intently as he did so.When Tony’s eyes went half-lidded, he let go, tugging Tony in for a kiss.

Tony melted easily into it, hot and eager already. He slipped onehand under Bucky’s workout tank, dragging the calluses of his fingers acrossthe skin at the base of Bucky’s spine, teasing at the elastic of those shorts.“Probably we should take this inside before another news ‘copter catches us outhere,” he said when Bucky let him come up for air.

Bucky ran his hands down Tony’s back, took a long, lingeringcaress of Tony’s ass through the flight suit. “Let ‘em watch,” he said roughly,then shook his head. “Prob’ly right, though. Stevie’d have our heads on th’table if we’re in the tabloids.” He didn’t take his hand off Tony’s backside,though, even when they turned to go into the penthouse.

They were barely through the polarized glass doors before Tonystarted stripping off the flight suit. He’d redesigned it for easier egressafter the first few Bucky had ruined with eagerness, but it still took longerthan he’d like. He kept his eyes on Bucky, though, wondering if he’d ever betired of that view. It didn’t seem like it.

(more and all the smut below the read more… or catch the fic at A03)

Bucky peeled out of his clothes in seconds and was already tuggingon the autozips that ran down the side of Tony’s leg, pressing open-mouthedkisses on each inch of exposed skin, dropping into a squat. He lingered,fingers sweeping down Tony’s thigh and then gazed up, eyelashes lowered. “Mmmm,hey there,” he said, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Got somethin’for me, to whet my appetite?”  

Nope, Tony was never going to get tired of the way Bucky looked athim, hungry and predatory. Hnnng. “I bet I can find a little something for youto nibble on,” Tony promised, hoarse. He slipped his fingers into Bucky’s hair,curled the strands around them and pulled gently, watching Bucky’s expression.

Bucky ran his thumbs up the insides of Tony’s thighs, the flightsuit still around his calves, too impatient to wait. He dropped a line ofkisses over Tony’s belly, breath hot against Tony’s skin. “Mmmm, this is nice,”he said, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “Havin’ you homeunexpected-like.” Bucky rubbed his cheek against Tony’s hip, then licked downthe curve, making a beeline for Tony’s cock, already half-hard. “Gonna–” Andhis mouth closed, hot and wet and slick, over the head, tongue skating alongthe ridge. He pulled back “–enjoy this.”

“Good,” Tony managed. “Be worried if you– ohhhh.” He lostthe thread of his thought there, swimming in sensation. You’d think he’d getused to it, the things Bucky’s mouth could do. “Ohhh, yeah. I’m gonna enjoy it,too.”

The thud of preteen feet on the stairs was all the warning theygot; Bucky jerked back with a bitten-off curse and Tony started franticallypulling the suit back into place. Bucky snatched up his discarded clothes andbolted for the nearest door – the one that led back out onto the landinggantry. JARVIS politely shifted the polarity of the glass to hide Bucky just intime as Jaime came up into the penthouse.

“Dad? I thought you were in a meeting all day.”

“Several meetings, but one finished early,” Tony said, and he waspretty sure he even managed to sound mostly normal. “Did you need something?”

Bucky came back in the room, his tank stretched out a bit so thehem was brushing the tops of his thighs and his shorts were on inside out, butit probably wasn’t noticeable, as long as Jaime stayed on the other side of theroom. He scraped one hand through his hair, the back of his neck red.

“Sasha needs a new coldcuff and the spares are all lockedup,” Jaime said.

Bucky stared at him. “You live in a building full of spies andsuperheroes. No one can pick a damn lock?”

Jaime’s eyes rounded. “You said we shouldn’t do that anymore,” hepointed out.

Bucky made a disgusted noise. “So, now you’re listenin’ tome? Hell of a time…” He took a deep, steadying breath.

“I’ve got it,” Tony said, patting Bucky’s shoulder comfortingly.So much for Sasha’s nap – if he needed a fresh cuff, that meant he was awakeand in a seriously bad mood. “I’ll go get the cuff and see if I can talk somesense into the toddler. You… maybe get your shower or something.”

“Yeah, okay, right,” Bucky said, grumbling and pinching the bridgeof his nose. “J? Start the shower?” He glanced over his shoulder at Tony, thenadded, “better make it cold, okay?”

“Come on, baby,” Bucky said, after Tony had almost fallen asleepinto his chicken diane and green beans. A whole day’s worth of meetings – notto mention Angry-toddler Sasha, seriously Bucky’s youngest had taken theterrible twos and run with them for the better part of three years now – andTony was visibly exhausted.

(Tony and Bruce and sometimes Hank McCoy had been working onpre-developing the stims that Tony had managed to get addicted to in thefuture, but so far, they hadn’t been able to get it just right.)

Tony mumbled something sleepy, and Bucky sighed, then lifted him up.“I got ya, princess,” he teased, holding Tony close to his chest, feeling thatwarm, cuddly contentment all the way to his toes. “Gonna take you up to bedbefore you hurt yourself.”

Tony hadn’t gone quite limp in Bucky’s arms; he had one arm slung‘round the back of Bucky’s neck to steady himself and he was drawing lazycircles on Bucky’s pecs with one finger. There was a tenseness in Tony’s bodythat belied the half-sleeping pose he was projecting. His heart sped, just asBucky nudged the elevator summons, and so Bucky wasn’t quite surprised whenthat wandering finger circled his nipple, or when Tony’s chocolate brown eyesopened as soon as the door closed behind them.

“Faker,” Bucky accused his husband, letting fondness seep into histone.

“Are you complaining?” Tony wondered idly. He didn’t wait for ananswer, just leaned in to lick at Bucky’s collarbone, then nipped sharply,sending a shock of heat through Bucky’s body. “Besides, I think we had someunfinished business to attend to…”

“Yes, yes we did,” Bucky said, decidedly. He tried hard not toresent Tony’s business, as Tony himself said it more than once, someone had topay the bills around here, but it was hard (Bucky rolled his eyes at his ownthoughts. So hard!) not to miss him, when he was gone. They’d at leastlearned their lesson enough that Tony took the armor with him whenever Buckycouldn’t be with him (and Bucky scared the hell out of most of Tony’s businesspeers and clients). “Gonna demolish you.” Bucky shifted his grip untilTony was upright, legs around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky turned, pushing Tony against the wall of the elevator, mouthseeking Tony’s, eager to sample Tony’s lips.

Tony groaned and met Bucky’s mouth with his own, just as eager.His hips were already rolling against Bucky’s as his hands clutched at Bucky’sshoulders hard enough to leave small, regrettably short-lived bruises. “God,been thinking about this all damn afternoon,” Tony panted. “Boring fuckingmeetings, and trying to pay attention, but all I could think about was yourmouth and your hands and your dick. Jesus Christ, but I need you, baby.”

Bucky shuddered, unable to keep himself from rutting obscenelyagainst Tony’s body, felt the heat of him even through their clothes, whichweren’t going to last but a second as soon as he got the door lockedbehind them. God, god, Tony was writhing against him, climbing Bucky like agoddamn tree. His mouth sealed over Tony’s, mercilessly plundering the silkencavern, tasting. The elevator opened with a soft ding, and Bucky pushed intothe penthouse by muscle memory.

In the very small portion of his brain that wasn’t occupied withhis armful of eager husband, Bucky considered the distance to the bedroom anddecided that the chair was closer. He took two steps to the side and droppedinto it, Tony ending up straddling his thighs.

Tony glanced up as they dropped, grunted understanding, and pulledBucky’s shirt off quickly before going to work at his own buttons. Buckywould’ve preferred to just rip the thing off him, but he settled for helping,unbuttoning from the bottom up as Tony worked from the top down. Finally, theshirt was on the floor, and as Tony reached up to pull off the undershirt,Bucky surged forward to catch one of those sweet nipples and torture it. Tonygasped and fumbled off the tee, then curled his arms around Bucky’s shouldersand head, holding on for dear life.

“I gotcha, baby,” Bucky crooned, rocking Tony up, flexing histhighs to rub and press against the hot vee between Tony’s legs. He unhookedthe placard to Tony’s pants, tugged at one side and let the zipper slide downas he dipped his hand inside. He leaned back to watch Tony’s face as he palmedTony’s cock through his satin briefs. There was nothing – nothing –Bucky liked better than watching Tony come undone. So, so beautiful in hispleasure; all the little worried frowns and the wrinkled knot between hiseyebrows let go, and he was just… utterly divine.

Tony wriggled into a more secure position, tucked as close to Buckyas the chair would allow, and then leaned back, putting his hands on Bucky’sknees for balance. “God,” he sighed, “Bucky… yes, more, please.” Hisback arched in pleasure, the curve of his body as elegant as Clint’s bow. “Comeon,” he said, somewhere between begging and demanding. “Need you. Want you,honey, please…” His eyes flickered shut, then opened again to watch Buckyfrom under his eyelashes, unfairly sultry.

Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, heard the fabric tear as he pulled toohard on his own zipper. Shrug. He had more pants. Twisted in the chair, rubbingagainst Tony with entirely too much unnecessary wriggling, but that was okay,because oh, god, Tony felt so good, so eager and they were–

Knock. Knock knock knock. Thatwas the door to the kid’s floor.

Go away, Bucky’s brain snarled.

“No,” Tony whined softly, head dropping to Bucky’s shoulder. Hetook a couple of deep breaths, and let the last one out slow. “Maybe it’ll besomething fast and easy?” He took another breath, looked down – probably tomake sure they wouldn’t be exposing themselves to whoever it was – and liftedhis head to call, “What do you want?”

Sasha pushed open the door hesitantly, then signed, hands movinggracefully. The boy had learned to talk in the last few months, but particularlywhen he was upset, he regressed back to non-verbal. “Jaime’s sick.”

Bucky jerked involuntarily. Which, oh, god, was probably not thebest idea. “How’s he sick?” Supersoldier kids didn’t get sick. One ofthe perks of being a superhero-parent. No flu or chickenpox or ear infections.

Sasha twisted his fingers together and stared at his feet in anagony of indecision, then finally made a spread hand, thumb near his mouth, anddrew it down. Bucky blinked; that was the sign Sasha used for foods he didn’tlike and anything involving his brother’s favorite TV show, Adventure Time.But also the original meaning–

“He threw up?”

Sasha nodded.

Tony groaned, low in his throat. “Ug, okay, we’ll… Go keep aneye on him and we’ll be right there.” He waited until Sasha had closed thedoor, then rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “I swear…”

“My turn t’ adult,” Bucky said. “Get some sleep, baby. Maybe wecan get in a roll in the morning, yeah? You like that, little sleepy wake-upsex?” He couldn’t help pressing up against Tony, one last time, letting all hiswant and frustration grumble out of his throat.

“Mmm, yeah, that sounds like a good plan, babe.” Tony ducked infor a fast, hot kiss, a promise for Bucky to collect later, then slid offBucky’s lap with another wordless whine of complaint.

Bucky let the first few words of his commands whisper in his mind,just enough to bring himself down off the edge. He couldn’t push further thanthat, his kids were both in awe of, and terrified by, the Winter Soldier. Justenough frost to cool himself, and then he got up, scowled at his jammed zipper,and then tugged his tee back on. He paused to watch Tony walk, the sway of hiships captivating, into the bedroom, before heading down the stairs to find outwhat was wrong with his son.

Dark and warm and sleepy, Tony floated just below the surface ofwaking. It was there; he could feel it waiting, but he wasn’t ready for it yet.He could feel Bucky curled around him, one arm wrapped over Tony’s waist, afoot tucked between his ankles, breath puffing against his neck, hips snugagainst his ass.

And mmm, that might be a reason to wake up a little more, the heatof Bucky’s length pressed against Tony’s skin, already hard, rocking just alittle. Just enough to let Tony know that he was awake and ready for someaction. After yesterday’s little string of cockblocks, Tony was feeling prettyready for it, too. He swam through the sleepy lethargy to push back intoBucky’s body, to tip his head and turn it enough to see Bucky’s face when heopened one eye. “Mmm, morning, sweetheart.”

“Hey gorgeous,” Bucky answered. He was sporting some epic bedhead,long mahogany hair flat on one side and curling against his neck on the other.He nuzzled at Tony’s neck, breath stirring the fine hair at the back of Tony’sskull, sending flash-pulses of sensation across Tony’s nerves. His left handtraced a line, so soft, down Tony’s arm, across his ribs, and rested on hiship. The click of tiny, delicate plates in his fingers made an interestingcounterpoint to Tony’s pulse. He licked down Tony’s spine, slithering lowerinto the bed with each wet, warm kiss.   

Tony hummed with interest, his entire body waking up and comingalight one bit at a time, like watching a computer boot up. He slid his fingersover Bucky’s metal ones, feeling the little plates catch against his skin, thendragged a slow line up the arm toward Bucky’s shoulder, as far as he couldreach without rolling over to disturb Bucky’s progress. “And a good morning itis,” he purred, letting himself luxuriate in the electric zings of pure lustthat Bucky’s mouth was pressing into him.

“God, you taste good,” Bucky rumbled. “Could jus’ eat you alive.”He made it down to the base of Tony’s spine, licking that flat triangle there,hand firm on Tony’s hip, pinning him in place. He nipped the curve of Tony’sass and deposited a kiss on his buttcheek.

Gently, he rolled Tony over, ass up, fingers teasing at the backof his thighs, just under his ass, encouraging him to rut against the sheets.“Oh, god, I like to watch that, look at you, baby,” Bucky said, his voicehoarse with wanting.

“Look all you want,” Tony said, stretching his arms out andburying them under the pillows, “but more touching would be good, too. I’mdefinitely on board with more of the touching.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said. He sat up, smacked a light hand down onTony’s cheek, just enough to elicit a squeak. “I’ll take care of you,babydoll.” He ran a finger down Tony’s crack. He reached across Tony with theother hand, fumbling on the bedside table and found the lube. A soft snick, andthen Bucky was drawing a silicone-slick circle around his hole. “Like this,baby, you want it?”

“God, yes,” Tony said. Barely awake and already half-begging. Hedidn’t care; it had been too long and an even more torturous wait than usual.“Need you in me, want it hard.” He shivered at only the thought; hewanted to feel the ache for the whole rest of the day. And then go againtonight, maybe, too. Yeah, that would be… Mmm. He rolled his hips up,inviting more.

Bucky leaned over him, pushing and testing at the muscles there.“Tony, yes,” he growled, low and eager. “You got it…” Bucky made a soft,wanting sound as Tony clenched down on his finger. “Get up on your knees, baby,grab the headboard. I am gonna fuck you right through the mattress.”

“Oh, god yes…” Tony pushed up onto his hands and knees,then groped for the headboard. It shouldn’t have been as difficult as it was,but Bucky was teasing at his opening, pushing and tugging, and god…

“Sir,” JARVIS said neutrally. “I have rather an urgent call foryou both from Ms. Barnes.”

“We’re busy, J,” Tony gritted.

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS agreed, “but she says the matter will notwait.”

“I’m gonna cry,” Bucky complained, then, “put her through, voiceonly.” He took a few breaths, then, “What is it, Rishka?”

“Father, Tony,” Rikki said. She didn’t sound anything other thanmildly annoyed. “Ellie got a flash she thought you should know about. She says–” in the background, Ellie’s voice. Not her normal, smart-ass sarcasm, butthe sleepy, almost dreamy tones of the seer “–that you shouldn’t do what youwere about to do. Tony’s gonna break his wrist when the bed colla– OH, GOD,ELLIE, GROSS! You didn’t tell me they were fucking. Oh, god, oh, god,I’m hanging up now.” The line went dead.

“Is this a joke?” Bucky demanded of no one.

“Ellie doesn’t usually joke about her visions,” Tony pointed outreluctantly. He sat back on his heels and looked down at his hands. “I…really cannot afford a broken wrist right now.”

Bucky closed his eyes for a long moment. “Right, right,okay, yeah, I… no, that’s fine, Tony, you don’t, I know.” He blew out a puff ofair and then rolled to his feet, reaching for his clothes. He tamed his hairinto a messy bun. “I’m… gonna go find Steve and go for a run. An’… maybe weshould think about replacin’ the bed? I mighta… done some structural damage toit, or somethin’? I’ll… sorry, babe, I’ll be back soon.” He leaned over,quicklike, and pecked Tony on the mouth, before striding out of the penthouse,running shoes in one hand.

Tony watched him go sadly. “Structural damage, right. Project fortoday, I guess.” He flopped back down on the bed with a sigh.

The bed creaked ominously. Maybe it was for the best that they’dstopped when they did.

“Definitely the project for today.”

As if in agreement, the bed creaked again and then one side of itcollapsed, rolling Tony onto the floor. The headboard wobbled for half a secondand then collapsed the other way, and – yep, if Tony had been holding it wherehe usually did, it would’ve trapped his hand and probably broken something.

Damn it.

The bedroom was obviously cursed, that was the only fuckingexplanation for the last two days. And the shop, his usual back-up spot forgetting his husband alone and naked, was out because Jaime’s tutors had givenhim some fairly hefty projects and Jaime was in and out of the shop at allhours as inspiration struck.

Bucky was within an inch of stealing one of the quinjets forrecreational purposes, putting it on the ceiling on autopilot and nailing Tonyon the rather uncomfortable back benches. No one could accidentally walk in onthem at fifty thousand feet.

He’d gone down to the shop anyway to prompt Tony into rememberingthat eating was a thing, following along behind his husband like a junkyard dogand feeling miserable about it, when he spotted the weapons’ locker. No one wasever in there, except Bucky when he’d lost another pistol and needed areplacement in a hurry. Everyone had their specialty weapons, designed andmanufactured by Tony; these were just spares. So even if there was a call toAssemble, no one would come in there, at least.

Bucky nudged Tony, grabbing the back of his rock-and-roll teebefore he got into the elevator and raised his eyebrows, tipping his chin atthe door. “Wanna make a pit stop, babe?” He licked his lips, not quite meaningto, but god damn he was almost in pain from wanting Tony so bad.

Tony’s eyes flicked to Bucky’s mouth, pavlovian, and then to thedoor. “In there?” His voice spiralled with disbelief. A second later, his brainseemed to catch up with the rest of his body, and he nodded fast. “Yeah, yes,good idea, let’s– Oh, god, all the damn ‘blocks, I’m wound so tight…”He thumbed the lock and shoved the door open, all but tumbling through.

Bucky took care to lock the door behind them before pouncing onhis husband, kissing frantically, biting at Tony’s mouth like he was starving.He wasn’t even being gentle, necking with Tony like they were teens at a movie,one hand already on Tony’s fly. “Wanna taste you, baby, gotta, oh, letme,” he babbled. He stroked Tony a few times through his pants, feeling him up.Groaned as Tony stiffened against his palm.

Tony leaned back against the wall and spread his legs, and thatwas all the invitation Bucky needed. He fell to his knees and took hold ofTony’s pants–

There was a sound. At the door. Bucky froze.

“What is it?” Tony asked, whispering. His hand crept toward hiswatch, which had all kinds of protective toys hidden in it.

The pinwheel hatchlock spun, slow and unsteady. That shouldn’thappen; there hadn’t been an alert. Bucky reached over, his fingers searchinguntil he found the grip of a pistol. They were usually stored loaded, unlesssomeone had fucked up, at least. He stepped forward, letting Tony take up ashielded position behind him.

The door cracked, then opened…

A tiny person pushed into the room and slammed the door shutagain, giggling.

“Zinny,” Tony said, sounding somehow both exasperated andrelieved. “What are you doing in here?”

Zoya turned huge, rounded eyes up at them. “Shhh!” she commanded.“Hidin’ seep!”

Bucky thumbed the safety and tucked the pistol in at the small ofhis back. “The door was locked,” he pointed out. Of course, now one ofthe genius-spy-assassin-monkey-children could pick a lock. Of course.

“Best hidin’!” Zoya proclaimed happily. “You hide too, Unca Buckyan’ Unca Tony?”

“I guess so,” Tony said drily, obediently lowering his voice forher. “Who are we playing hide-and-seek with?”

The hatch spun again and Zoya squealed, running around behind oneof the archery racks, eyes wide.

Tash poked her head in the doorway. She was holding a bowl in onehand and had a fork wedged firmly in her mouth. “Zin,” she muttered around hermouthful, sighed in exasperation, and pushed the fork into a bowl of greens. “Notthe weapons room, I said –” She stopped, glanced at Tony and Bucky, then hereyes went wide. Her gaze lingered on Tony’s mangled shirt, the red and purpleof a rising lovebite visible against his bronze skin. She gasped, allexaggerated exasperation. “Yasha! In front of my salad!” She brandishedthe bowl at them.

Tony’s head fell against the back of Bucky’s shoulder as hegroaned. “We’re cursed,” he complained.

“Zin,” Tash said, holding out her free hand. “Come on, weaponsroom is off-limits. We talked about this. Let’s go before something shoots offin here.”

Bucky flushed, embarrassed, but refused to drop his gaze, even ifhe could think of absolutely nothing witty to say, knowing, knowing,that they were going to have to endure Tash’s sly humor and snide remarks allthe way through dinner, and it would be worse if they actually took thetime to finish anything. Heaven help both of them if they were ten minutes latefor dinner at this point. As soon as the door closed pointedly behind the twored-heads, Bucky almost squashed Tony against the wall. “Not. Fair.”

“Seconded,” Tony whined. “When they talk about how hard it is toraise kids, I didn’t realize how literal that was going to be…”

Cursed. They were absolutely fucking cursed. They’d triedhiding in Bucky’s bolthole apartment, and were interrupted by a squabblebetween the cleaning bots, who usually remained hidden but considered thebolthole their own personal territory thanks to Bucky’s training.

They’d gone to Tony’s executive office in the SI offices – afterhours; they weren’t animals – only to have Pepper come over theintercom to remind Tony that there were security cameras in there, and if theydidn’t put their clothes back on right now, she was going to destroyboth of them with her bare hands.

They went to a local sci-fi convention (and were almostrecognized, but played it off as being really good cosplayers) andchecked into the hotel, but were interrupted four times by someonepulling the fire alarm as a prank, until they gave up.

Bucky even tried pulling Tony into the vents, but Clint stumbledover them.

That wasn’t even mentioning the three separate occasions whenthey’d been nearly all the way undressed only to have the Assemble alarm sound.

All in all, it had been more than a week since they’d managed tohave sex, and if it had been a week where Tony was off on a business trip, thatwould’ve been manageable, but no, it had been a week of almostgetting to have sex and then being interrupted at the last. Possible. Second.Like an entire week of edging. It was maddening.

Tony flopped into the (new, structurally reinforced) bed thatnight and almost didn’t even want to try. He stared at the ceiling andwondered what was going to fuck things up this time. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Kids all in bed and asleep?”

“Sleeping soundly, sir.”

“Villain activity?”

“No unusual activity at the moment.”

Tony glanced toward the bathroom, where Bucky was. “Seal all thedoors and if anyone asks for us, send them somewhere else. I don’t even carewhere. No calls, period. I do not care if SI is on fire or Ellie sees mebreaking my leg. I will take the fucking broken leg if it gets me laid.And we’re not Assembling for anything smaller than the entire goddamn countryat hazard. If it’s just a city, the rest of the team can handle it. You gotme?”

“I understand perfectly, sir.”

Bucky came out of the bathroom, towel around his shoulders,wearing a fluffy terrycloth bathrobe that Tony had given him for Christmas oneyear, and he almost never actually wore, preferring, Tony thought, to showingoff his chest when fresh out of the shower and tempting Tony with a towel hunglow around his waist. His gaze flickered up to check Tony’s face, then back tothe window with its admittedly impressive view, but not really what Tony wantedhim looking at.

“Honey? Everything okay?” Bucky’s vision wasn’t as impressive ashis hearing, but it was better than Tony’s.

“Do you know, statistically speakin’, that there are, globally,seventy-nine million people having sex at any given minute of any givenday?”

Tony considered that. “That sounds about right,” he agreed. “Wantto come over here and join them?”

“Gettin’ close to th’ point where I might kill someone t’ be ableto take you to bed and stay there ‘til the job’s done,” Bucky said. He wasstill staring out the window, however, hadn’t even twitched in Tony’sdirection.

Tony got up and joined Bucky at the window, slinging his armaround Bucky’s waist and leaning into Bucky’s side as he, too, looked out overthe city. “Pretty sure that would just cause more interruptions, not fewer.”He glanced at Bucky, sighed. “If we give up, the terrorists win.”

Bucky shuddered at Tony’s touch, then pulled him closer. “Can’thave that,” Bucky said, mildly. He shifted a little, then tipped Tony’s chin upand lowered his mouth for a kiss. Soft, gentle, not demanding or rushing oranything, a tingling pressure of lips and breath and nothing more. “You know,it ain’t jus’… that. It’s more’n that, babe. Miss bein’ close withyou. Feels like you’re half th’ world away.”

Tony nodded. “I know. Hell, it might be easier if I washalf the world away. But hey, I know you heard me talking to JARVIS. I’m allyours tonight. Promise.”

“I’m all yours,” Bucky said. “All th’ time. Always.” Hesighed into Tony’s embrace, kissing him again, soft and easy. He cupped theside of Tony’s face, thumb brushing over his jaw, down his chin, urging Tony’smouth open for him. Teased at his lip until Tony leaned forward to meet him,and still it was slow. Exquisitely gentle. Like Bucky thought Tony mightdissolve into nothingness, float away on the breeze. “I ain’t so good withwords, doll. An’ I love you, so much. Sometimes, this–” he ran a hand lightlyover Tony’s chest “–this is the best way I know how t’ show it to you.”

It was sweet, and perfect, and unbearable. “Love you,” Tony said.“Forever, for the rest of my life, I love you. Come to bed, honey.”

Tony had never witnessed Bucky so tentative; each touch and caresswas deliberate, stroking Tony’s skin, dropping soft, heated kisses, but hemoved with heartbreaking caution. He kept his eyes on Tony’s face as he laidTony back on the bed. If it wasn’t for the way his hands were shaking, the wayhe worried his bottom lip with his teeth, Tony might have thought he wasdisinterested. He nuzzled at Tony’s throat, tonguing that spot where Tony’spulse throbbed. “God, Tony,” he murmured into Tony’s hair. “Baby,sweetheart, my life, my love.”

Tony combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, trying to soothewhatever strange mood had gotten under Bucky’s skin. “I’m here,” he promised,“right here, just for you.” He took Bucky’s hand and laid it over his heart,pressing it down to feel each beat. “Just for you, but god… Touch me, Bucky.Need you to love me now.”

Bucky’s chin snapped up at that, and he looked at Tony with suchan expression of longing that it made his throat go dry. “Oh, Tony,” andthat came out choked and stricken, before Bucky kissed him, hard and wet, witha touch of wildness to him that got more aggressive as Tony opened up to him.His hands were everywhere, fingers tangling in Tony’s hair and tugging his headback to expose his throat, the metal fingers dancing down Tony’s side. With twofingers, so gentle, barely moving, Bucky stroked down the line of Tony’s cock,the polished metal slick and cool against his skin.

Tony arched into it with a gasp, letting Bucky move him whereverand however Bucky wanted him. Bucky was like a force of nature, unstoppable anduncontrollable. And yet if Tony breathed a word of complaint, Bucky would stop.Tony had no doubt at all of that. It was a heady sense of power.

Not that he wanted any of it to stop. He was desperate for everytouch, every taste, every sensation. “My soldier,” he whispered. “Yes.”

Bucky made a high, reedy, needy sound in his throat. He shuckedhimself out of the bathrobe, let as much of his skin touch Tony’s as possible.Then slithered down the length of Tony’s body, spread his legs to make room,paused to savor the moment, mouth mere millimeters away from Tony dick, waited.Watching Tony’s face intently. “Bucky, yes?” He lowered his mouth a fraction,lips opening.

Tony shuddered. “Bucky, more,” he begged, fighting to lifthis hips, to twist them, anything. “Please.”

Bucky waited just a little longer, eyes sparkling with delight,then…

He opened his mouth and took Tony in, all the way to the base inone slick, wet pull, tongue working in brushing strokes as he went. When he hadTony all the way back, his throat pulsed as he swallowed, sucking his cheeksin. He twisted his chin from side to side, giving Tony friction and brilliantsensation, then pulled back and almost off before sliding back down. His lipswere a tight ring over Tony’s dick and Bucky’s tongue was sweet, achingtorment.

Oh, god. “So good, Bucky, oh… Fuck, I’m not goingto last…” He’d been too keyed up for too long to let any kind of tease slowhim down. “Bucky, baby, honey, you are a goddamned miracle.”

Bucky slid back, reluctantly. He licked once, then again, at thesensitive crown. “Can’t have that, baby, you gotta wait for me.” He glanceddown and then groaned at the sight, Tony’s dick quivering and glistening.Tasted it again, like he couldn’t resist.

A soft whimper slid out of Tony’s throat, but he couldn’tdisagree. It was always best if they came together. Which did not stop him frombucking up into each lingering, careful touch in search of friction and heat.

He managed to pull himself together enough to twist around toreach for the drawer in the nightstand with the lube. “Fastest prep ever,” hesuggested, tossing the bottle down the bed. “I want to feel every bit of you.”

Bucky gave Tony a Look, with a capital L. “You know I ain’t gonnatake th’ risk in hurtin’ you, Tony,” he said. He wet his fingers, slid his handbetween Tony’s legs to tease and circle him, which, if Bucky was going tolecture him, at least he wasn’t leaving Tony hanging while he was doing it, andTony could ignore the scowl Bucky was giving him as he twisted and wriggled,trying to move Bucky faster, harder, now now now–

Oh Christ– Bucky slid one finger in, crooked it and stroked alongTony’s prostate, once, twice, three… oh, god, practically tortured it,rubbing and pressing, but just one finger… used his thumb to tease at Tony’srim. “I got you, Tony, baby, relax, honey, I got you…”

“This is not a relaxing situation,” Tony shot back. “Come on, Ijust… God, I need you so bad, Bucky, please. I know you love to makeme squirm but– fuck! –I’m begging, I just need you in me, come on…”

“I need you,” Bucky said. He added a second finger, scissoredthem, watching as Tony twisted, hissed at the pressure. “Need you so bad, wantyou so much. Want you t’ open up for me, there we go, yeah, like that, baby.It’s good, it’s good, I’m gonna give you what you need. There you are, baby.”He tugged, light, against the rim, then pulled his fingers out. Lubed himselfand lined up. “Oh, god…” Pressed the head of his cock in. “I got you, Tony.Bring me home.”

“Come on, honey,” Tony urged, rocking his hips up, pulling Buckyin closer. “Want all of you, every inch, as deep as you can go.” It ached inthe best way, that slow slide in. It was almost the same way his heart ached onthose rare occasions that he woke up and Bucky was still asleep and he couldwatch through those quiet moments. God, but he loved Bucky. “Love you,” hesaid, panting and wrapping his leg over Bucky’s hip. “My soldier. Come onhome.”

Bucky groaned, straining, and his metal hand came up to push atTony’s thigh, spreading him wider. The plate shifted, a sharp pinch, and thenheat spread from the bruise as Bucky switched his grip. And then Bucky buriedhimself in Tony’s body, thrust in all the way to the hilt, demanding and urgentand perfectly imperfect. “Oh… god.” Bucky leaned in, tucked his faceagainst Tony’s throat.  

“Yes,” Tony moaned, wrapping his arms and legs around Bucky. “Giveit to me, honey. Give it to me good, I need you.” It felt so good, likepart of him had been missing and was returned. And he still wasn’t going tolast.

Bucky rocked him, pushing deeper. He lifted himself up, hands oneither side of Tony’s head and ploughed into Tony, spine seemingly as flexibleas a snake’s. “Look at me, baby, lemme see you,” Bucky pleaded. And oh, god, itwas hard to keep his eyes open while Bucky was doing such delicious things tohis body, but at the same time – once he met Bucky’s eyes, near black withdesire – he couldn’t look away. “There you are… come on, baby, touch yourself,so close, I’m… oh, christ, fuck, Tony, you’re so…”

Tony thought he was going to come the instant he touched his dick,but he managed to keep it together, barely. He stroked himself nice and easy,maybe every three of Bucky’s thrusts, not wanting it over yet. “You feel good,honey? Tell me how much you like it.” Bucky had a bit of a love-haterelationship with talking in specifics during sex; pushing that button waseither going to speed things up or slow them down, and either way, it was awinner for Tony.

Bucky shivered, and the movement did interesting things to theplace they were joined together. “Yeah, you always wanna hear about it,” hegrowled, “you want me t’ tell you how warm you are, how slick and tight ‘roundme. The way you move, god, you make me th’ best kinda crazy, like I’m an inchfrom touchin’ eternity. Everythin’, everything you do, makes me wild. I c’nbarely keep my hands off you, an’ I…god, need you so bad, Tony. God, soperfect, look at you, god, how you take me, how much you want it.” He wasmurmuring in Tony’s ear, praise and worship and needy and eager, telling Tonyhow sweet he was, how good it felt, how every little twitch and flex wastranslated directly into his cock, his balls, how soft Tony’s skin was, howgood he smelled. “Baby, you’re th’ best thing I ever touched, can’t believe,sometimes, that you let me.”

Tony almost laughed at that. “We’ve been together for more thanfive years, sweetheart. You’re going to have to believe it eventually.” Henuzzled up under Bucky’s jaw to leave the sharp little bites that made Buckyshudder with sensation. “Mm, love it when I get you to talk dirty for me.S’when I know you’re wound up nice and tight.” He moved his hand faster,matching Bucky’s rhythm. God, he wanted to come; he could feel it buildingright at the base of his spine.

Bucky’s arm slipped under Tony’s back, yanking him down, pinninghim in place as Bucky slammed home. The intense, focused expression faded asBucky got closer to his own release, until he was almost sleepy-looking, eyeshalf-lidded, breath speeding. “Tony, oh, god, you feel so damned good, I… youunravel me. Oh, god, Tony, Tony, come on, I’m…” Bucky threw his head back, hiships moving reflexively, working in Tony with abandon.

“Yeah, honey, let it go, come on, I’m…” Tony’s breathing wasgetting rough and raw, and electricity built in his balls. He was going tocome, any second, just one… more… push– The world dissolved into fire, andhe was pretty sure he yelled something. Maybe Bucky’s name, maybe justnonsense. Didn’t matter, didn’t matter, not with the way his bones were turninghot and liquid, oh god, it felt so good…

Tony’d been flattened by his supersoldier before; at least thenewer mattress was somewhat softer, so he could still breathe. “Oh, god, Tony,”Bucky managed. “Christ.” He heaved a few deep, almost sobbing gaspsbefore he shifted his weight. He rolled off and sprawled out, taking up morethan his fair share of mattress. He kissed Tony’s forehead.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Tony sighed. “I love you.” He didn’t reallywant to move at all, but he groped around enough to hook his ankle underBucky’s leg.

“Needed you,” Bucky said. “I was this far–” he held out hisfinger and thumb about an inch apart “– from spontaneously combusting.”

Steve was leaning against the fridge, arms crossed over his massivechest with his very best Your Captain is Disappointed in You look plasteredacross his face.

Bucky stopped dead. Tony was following so close behind, theirhands twined together, that he actually ran into Bucky’s back.

“What th– Oh, hey, Cap. What’s… with the face?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. He knew they’d told JARVIS not tointerrupt them, but surely if there’d been an assemble call, J would have said something.Which meant that Bucky had no idea why Steve was looking at them like he wasgetting ready to chew steel and spit staples. And assign them both to KP orsomething.

Steve unfolded his arms. “I’m interested in your explanation forthis,” he said shortly. “Pepper is going to stomp on us with cleats forthe bad PR.”

Bucky actually turned and looked behind him, to see if someoneelse – Clint, for instance – might be following, and therefore a betterreceptacle for Steve’s anger. “Um, what’s this?”

From his back pocket, Steve withdrew a folded piece of newsprint.He flattened it carefully, then slammed it down on the kitchen table. “This.”

Bucky took a few more steps into the kitchen to look.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

Tony leaned around Bucky’s arm to look as well. “Oh. Well, crap.”

The article itself was wild speculation, headline coyly suggestingthat the Winter Soldier was cheating on his meal-ticket husband and had dodgedout of sight when Iron Man returned unexpectedly.

But there was Bucky, on the front damn page, buck-assed naked onthe Avengers Tower landy gantry, backed up against the door to the penthouse –from a week ago, when Jaime’d chased him outside in a hurry. Those telephotolenses were pretty damn good, too, because it wasn’t a grainy, fuzzy image,either, but rather high-def. He was high-stepping into his shorts, one leg bentto shove his foot through the leg hole, body facing the camera while he lookedback over his shoulder. The metal arm particularly stood out.

Tony, all but immune to Steve’s face, hummed thoughtfully and saidwith an audible leer, “At least they got your good side.”

They’d pixilated out his dick, at least, for the front page, butBucky would be willing to bet that somewhere, some paparazzi had the fullmonty. Which meant that either some yellow journalist was going to be coming toTony with a hand out for a big payout, or Bucky’s erection was going to end upall over the internet.

Tony chortled, pointing at the caption. It’s going to be a longwinter.

[ninavale]

Bodyguard crush with Qrowin for the aesthetics ask/prompt~ bonus points if its Winter protecting Qrow?

Well, I actually do have a better idea for it now. 

This is sort of inspired by Dishonored, mostly first game. It’s an AU where Fall of Beacon did happen but aftermath happened quicker, and it sort of ties in with my old idea of Ruby being descendant of the King of Vale. I know most people peg Jaune as one but I like the idea of Ruby as an Empress/Queen type. 

It was few monthsafter the end of the turmoil, and almost a year since the Fall ofBeacon and the world has certainly changed. During the events leadingup to and following the Fall it has come out that Ruby Rose is adescendent of the King of Vale and with the defeat of Cinder, andcompromise of many political figures the young girl ended up takingthe throne. She of course was still young so she was guided by GlyndaGoodwitch, Bartholomew Oobleck and few other professors andtrustworthy allies. And it was this gathering that Winter was nowabout to meet.She didn’t know what they wanted of her, just thatthey had a mission and it slightly unnerved her. Usually she hadnerves of steel and calm of the forest on snowy night, and she knewRuby Rose, but the girl was royalty now and a renowned war hero. Andit was all so recent! They were in completely new era! There washardly a moment to really get used to things! Winter shook her head.There was no point in getting so worked up, these people were herfriends. Ruby was still best friends with Weiss and treated Winterwith same cheerful enthusiasm as before. Taking one last deep breaththe Specialist came up to the huge, wooden door and knocked. Soonenough Glynda Goodwitch came forth, carrying her trusty pad in onehand and her crop in the other. 

“Ms. Goodwitch,I came to see her royal highness” 

Glynda gave her acurt nod 

“WelcomeSpecialist Schnee, please follow me” she said, turning around andmarching down the corridor. Winter did as she was told, lookingaround. The royal castle, having been rebuild looked a lot like herhome back in Atlas, although it had much warmer feeling to it. Thecarpet was read and the walls painted in a warm, sunny colour withmany paintings hung along them. Some presented landscapes of all fourKingdoms while others historical and legendary figures. Winter’sgaze lingered a little bit on the picture representing Four Maidens,standing in front of the Old Wizard’s hut. She still found it hardto believe that they really existed. She shook her head and quickenedher step, in order to catch up with Glynda who by now was way aheadof her. It wasn’t long before they reached huge oak doors at thevery end. Glynda stopped and put in the right code, allowing them toopen. Winter followed her inside, finding herself in a spacious,bright room with huge windows, by which stood the throne. Ruby Rose,was sitting on it, her feet dangling in the air. She hasn’t changedmuch in appearance-Winter noted- she still wore her white shirt,black-and-red corset and combat skirt. and of course her trademarkcloak. When she saw Winter her big, silver eyes lit up.

“Winter!” shecalled out, jumping of the throne and running up to the specialist,and throwing herself at the woman. Winter stumbled backwards,surprised by the sudden ‘attack’. 

“G-good dayyour highness” she said not really knowing what to do. Ruby was aqueen, her superior, what could one say in response to a hug by aqueen? The little girl let go and rolled her eyes

“You can callme Ruby, you know?” she said “really” she added, seeingunsure expression on Winter’s face “I’m the same girl youmet during Vytal…and anyway we are in private no one will know andGlynda and the robots won’t mind either”

Winter gave her adoubtful gaze, but eventually nodded. Her Schnee upbringing andmilitary persona rebelled against such a thing, it was soinappropriate! But if Ruby allowed her…then she could treat it likean order, right? And the girl had a point…if they were in privatenobody was there to judge or glare. 

“Alright…Ruby”she said slowly “may I inquire why have you called me here? Iassume it is not because you wanted me to call you by your name?”

The girl’ssmile faded and her face became serious at the words. She steppedback a bit too.

“No” shesaid “but please follow me to more private place where we cansit down” 

Winter noddedagain and followed Ruby to a small but cosy side-chamber. It hadchocolate walls, a fire place, a couple of chairs and a sofa. Rubylet her to the latter. There was a moment of silence 

“So….”started the girl awkwardly “Winter, I asked you here to ask afavour. It’s about Uncle Qrow” she said, her voice getting asubdue and a little bit sad “you know he got hurt during thebattle, right?” 

“Yes”confirmed Winter, now curious as to where the young queen was goingwith this “how is he?” 

“He…isgetting better” answered Ruby, a delicate smile appearing on herface for a moment “he got released from hospital a month agobut…you see there is this one thing…that poison really messed himup. The doctors said he’s gonna be fine but his aura got knockeddown a lot. He won’t be able to generate more than ten percent”

Winter’s eyeswidened in shock. This…this was unexpected but she did not let herfeelings show too much

“I’m sorry”she said. Ruby offered her a small smile

“Thank you”she said “anyway….the thing is he can’t really fightanymore. not for long anyway. With such low aura it will be easy tohurt him and one day someone who has beef with me or Yang or RWBY ingeneral might want to get to him…and he has his own enemies…andthere is his tribe too. He left them but other bandits or people theyhurt won’t care” she bowed her head “and this war took somany ! Even on the first day I’ve lost Pyrrha and Penny andProfessor Ozpin and my sister lost her arm and she is not the sameperson, and so many others are gone too and Uncle Qrow…I…I cannotloose him too. He has always been there for me, protecting me andlooking out for me like a guardian angel. He was there more than myfather ever was” she sighed, looking up at Winter. The woman wastaken aback by the sheer despair in the young girl’s eyes

“that’s why Icalled you…I would like to ask you to keep an eye on him. Be hisbodyguard” she revealed

Winterwas speechless, her mouth opening and closing. For a moment she eventhought she must have misheard Ruby. For all things she had expected‘Qrow’s bodyguard’ wasn’t even on the list.

“Issomething wrong?” asked Ruby, noticing her expression “do you notwant to do it? I thought you and uncle Qrow don’t dislike eachother as much…but if you don’t wanna I can ask..”

“No,no, no, no” said Winter, waving her hands before her face in rapidmotions “I just….I was just a little shocked I mean…why me?”

“BecauseI trust you” answered Ruby simply “and your semblance is cooltoo, you can summon Grimm and pretty much everything you ever killedand make glyphs; and you are super-fast and agile and you can confusethe enemy and fight long and short distance, and you know everythingabout dust” she smiled “so you are the best person for the job”

Winterwas once again stunned by Ruby’s words, and reasoning.

“Thankyou” she said at long last when she found her voice again “it isan honour to have your trust. I promise you won’t regret yourdecision”

“So,is that a yes?” questioned Ruby, hope in her eyes, and when shereceived a nod a bright smile graced her face and a moment later herhands were wrapped around Winter’s torso “thank you! Thank you!Thank you!”

Thistime the specialist returned the hug, patting the red-cloaked girl onthe head. After a while they parted.

“Thankyou, once again, Winter” said Ruby, still smiling “it means a lotto me”

“Youare welcomed” replied Winter “but if this is to be my job Ibetter get going. I’m sure you have your own duties to attend to”

Rubygrimaced and groaned

“So,where will I find your uncle?” continued the white-haired woman

“He’sin his chambers. North part of the castle, your chamber is directly by his. There is a door” replied Ruby, as theygot up “oh, and do call him by his name. Uncle Qrow is same as me,he doesn’t like being called lord…most of the time. It’s nothis style”

“Whyam I not surprised” laughed Winter. And she really wasn’t.Calling Qrow a Lord indeed sounded ridiculous when you knew the man.Ruby joined in her chuckle, before both of them headed for the door,and returned to the throne chamber where they parted ways. Ruby wentback to Glynda and her studies, while Winter headed for the northwing.

Winter was once more walking down the northern hallway, passingall the rooms and windows on her way. Her mind was of course still onher conversation with Ruby and the reason she had been summoned bythe girl. She was to become Qrow Branwen’s personal bodyguard. Shestill couldn’t shake the surreal feeling that surrounded thissituation. The Qrow Branwen that she had come to know was a stronghuntsman, he seemed almost invincible at times. To learn that he hasbeen hurt so badly, that his aura was reduced so much and he needed abodyguard was shocking, unbelievable…disturbing even. Even back inthe day when they had been fighting, days before the war taught themto know better, she still saw him as almost untouchable. She shookthese thoughts off however, as she has reached Qrow’s chambers. Shetook a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Comein” came a familiar, hoarse voice “it’s not locked”

Shehesitated for a moment, before reaching for the knob and cominginside. She carefully closed the door behind her and took a lookaround. The room was very nice, at least in her standards. It wasdived in to two parts, one was the small hallway she stood in, andthe other the actual room. The main part had high, arched ceiling anda large window with crimson drapes, on the other side. The walls werea light, honey colour, making it look homely and warm. There was alarge bed further in the room, with chest at it’s feet; an armchairin the corner by the window; a large screen on the wall opposite tobed, with shelves underneath, possibly for movies or games orwhatever Qrow found entertaining. However Qrow himself was nowhere tobe seen. Winter didn’t know what to do at first, but after a whileshe decided to go further in. She stepped over to the main part, andfroze in place, as in exactly the same moment Qrow walked out of thein-suite bathroom, which she hadn’t noticed before as it was in thepart of the room hidden behind the wall. He was clearly after takinga shower or bath because his hair was wet, and he was wasn’twearing anything accept his pants, holding his gray shirt in hisother hand. Now, Winter always knew, or rather suspected he waswell-build and muscular. He had to be to wield that contraption ofhis, so effortlessly; but she still swallowed as her eyes scanned hisupper body. But she was a Schnee and a specialist at that, and shehas perfected all kinds of masks, so she quickly donned one of themand coughed. Qrow turned around, his crimson eyes widening insurprise as he saw her.

“IceQueen, what are you doing here?” he said. It was his usual way ofgreeting her, but the old nickname didn’t have the bite ormalicious intent behind it anymore. It was more likely just a forceof habit, a first thing that came to his mind rather than a way todemean her. They have buried the hatched months ago. Nonetheless shestill rolled her eyes.

“I’mhere at the request of your younger niece” she said “I’m to beyour new bodyguard”

Thiswas totally unexpected turn of events, if Qrow’s expression wasanything to go by, before hardening.

“Idon’t need a bodyguard” he replied. Something in the tone of hisvoiced touched her the wrong way, and she felt her pride rise in herheart.

“Yourniece requested my services” she replied, her own voice colder

“ButI did not” he said “so I’ll repeat. I don’t need a bodyguard.I’m perfectly fine on my own”

Winterfelt her pride stir once again, and she was about to answer but thememory of Ruby stopped her. The poor girl looked so desperate andsad…Winter couldn’t in clear conscience just…walk out. Andwell…Qrow has always been difficult, even if they burried thehatched she should not have expected things to go too easy.

“I’dbe in my room” she said

Withthat she turned on her heel and dissappeared in the adjoined chambershe was to occupy.

Assoon as the door closed behind Winter, Qrow slumped to the ground. Hedidn’t mean to be this nasty to her. After all they had agreed toput their differences behind them and become true allies, to notfight amongst themselves, not give into petty squabbles after whathappened after The Fall of Beacon. And it wasn’t that he didn’tlike her or trust her either. During the war he came to know her notas a daughter of Jacques Schnee and a specialist but as a passionate,strong young woman who much like him cared about people of Remnantand her family…or at least those worthy of care. He found out sheand Weiss despise their father and his ways. This made him change hismind about her. It wasn’t that SHE was his bodyguard, but ratherthe sole fact he needed a bodyguard. It reminded him of how weak hehas become, how useless. How lame was that, when a master-hunter, aprofessional protector needed a bodyguard like some regular celebrityor a politician? His reaction was one of frustration at his ownplight.

‘ButWinter doesn’t know of it’ spoke a small voice of reason in hishead ‘it’s not her fault you’re this way. She is just doing thejob Ruby assigned her for’

Hesighed. That was right. Winter was just doing her job…

‘ButI don’t want a bodyguard’ he argued

‘Butyou need one’ said reason ‘you are low on aura, you cannot fightfor long. This is the reality you are in, whenever you like it ornot. There is no chaining it’

Wellthat was true as well. He sighed again, once more glancing at thedoor. He owed Winter an apology for his behaviour, especially as shewas here on Ruby’s request. His niece meant well, and wanted tolook after him. He should apologise…but he doubted Winter wanted totalk to him right now, so he opted to wait a few hours. He still hadto dress up anyway, and she no doubt needed to freshen up in her ownroom and get to know the place she was going to live in. He pickedhimself up and reached for his clothes.

Fewhours have passed and it became dark outside. Winter, has mostlycalmed down from her little angry fit. While passionate her anger didnot last as long as her sister’s tended to. She has learned to growout of letting it hold her for too long a time. Still, she wonderedwhat she should do. Should she go to Ruby and declare she couldn’tdo the job because Qrow objected to it? She didn’t really want tostart another conflict with him, nor be in a place she clearly wasn’twanted…but on the other hand she still remembered the girl’sexpression. Poor thing was so distressed, and it wasn’t hard tosympathise with that. Ruby has lost two good friends, and in case ofPenny Polendina, a best friend. Winter didn’t have time to talk alot with the little android but from what she heard from Ciel Soleiand her own sister, the girl’s had been close and Penny’s deathhit Ruby really hard. Especially as the cloaked girl had alwayswanted to save the world and was so idealistic. Winter stillremembered the first mission where she and her team failed to save some people. She wasn’t as naive as Ruby, but it still got herhard. The poor girl must have gotten it ten times worse. No, Winter justcouldn’t pack up and leave the girl to be eaten by her fear oflosing someone she cared so much for. She couldn’t allow such risk.She shook her head. She will deal with it tomorrow. She pushed awaythe covers and was about to get into the bed and switch of the lightwhen she heard knocking on the door.

“Hey,Ice-Queen, you decent?” she heard Qrow’s voice on the other side“can I come in?”

Sheconsidered his request for a while, before answering in confirmation.The door creaked lightly and Qrow came in. he was still in his dayclothes.

“Hey”he greeted her, unnaturally awkwardly “I…ugh….well…yousee…well…this isn’t gonna be easy for me to saybut…well…I…I wanted to apologise and maybe offer you some sortof explanation” he sighed “I shouldn’t have reacted so harshlytowards you before” he said “and I know it’s a lame excuse butI…I just was frustrated you know. Whole my life I had to do thingsby myself. Well, you know about my family, right?” he asked

Shenodded. Indeed, she knew about the tribe. She had learned about itduring the war, and it was one of the reasons she considered changingher mind about him. He has been brought up by a bunch of murders, andyet he chose to throw that life and all he knew away in order tobecome someone who protected the innocent of such people. He changedsides’ completely! That was something to be admired.

“Well…oneof the things they teach you is that you should not look for othersto help you, and while I abandoned that path long ago some habitsstill stayed with me. I was used to going solo and not having to relyon others…and I always was the one to protect and save others.People of Remnant, Ruby…that life was all I had ever known but thewar changed that, and reduced me to nothing more but a usellessweakling. I mean…look at me. I have just about ten percent of aura.I can’t fight, I can’t do much, my wounds still hurt because theyheal so slow nowadays and now I need a bodyguard” he laughedbitterly “a bit lame, huh? “

Winterbit her lip. She never assumed that he felt such an amount ofself-hatred, but now his reaction made sense. She even could relateto it. Had she been hurt so badly and someone send her a bodyguardshe’d probably feel equal amount of helplessness.

“Andthen there is my semblance, whenever it works on me or is just smallinconvenience to others…It’s still there, I still bring bad luck.Even if it’s little. Before I could at least use it in battle andmake up for shit, but now? I can’t do anything so I’m just acrippled sad inconvenience of a man. I mean look, my niece feels theneed to have someone babysit me. She had to summon someone and givethem a job..” he shook his head, falling silent. Winter felt astrange pang in her heart. She walked up to him.

“Qrow” she said “Ruby doesn’t think you’re an inconvenience. Nor thatyou’re weak. She admires you as much as she had before. You knowshe lost a lot in this war and even though it all ended she gotthrown into all this” she made a wide gesture “it’s hard onher”

“Iknow” he said

“Andshe almost lost you too” she continued “and she is scared someonewill get to you because of her. For her to lose you again would begreatest misfortune. She doesn’t want to lose you. That’s why sheemployed me. She’s scared, Qrow”

Theman sighed “I know: he repeated “and I guess you’re right,Winter” he paused for a moment “I’m sorry for what I said”

“So,we’re alright now?” she asked “do you accept the situation?”

Asmall smile appeared on his face and he chuckled “I guess I do”he said “and I guess that I could have gone had it worse withperson doing this”

“I’lltake that as compliment” she said. He smiled

“Well,I’ll be going then” he said “I’m getting too mushy around youand it’ll ruin my style”

Sherolled her eyes, shaking her head

“Sure”she said “see you in the morning, then”

“Yeah”he said, heading for the door. He opened it, but stopped in thethreshold “goodnight, Winter. Sleep well” he said, in a soft toneshe would not expect of him…at least as far as she was concerned.She decided to accept it however, and smiled as well.

“Goodnight, Qrow” she said. Withthat he turned around and closed the door, and she quickly got to herbed and switched the light off.

Thisis the first chapter. I…dk how long it’ll be. Idk if it’s OOCor not, but I think that Qrow after the war would have softened up abit towards people…especially if he and Winter fought on the sameside and she helped defeat people. War and fighting together issomething that changes people’s perception. And Qrow just decided that it’s better to tell her everything. He has tendencies to go out in the open like when he told RNJR about his semblance or Ruby about her powers ect. 

[thiswomanshouldbewriting]

Caged Love - Chapter 1 (Out of Sight)

Because, apparently, I can’t say no to a new plotbunny. Do you remember this post? Well, as I said, I simply couldn’t keep from writing the thing. I only have very vague ides on how to continue this, so if you like it prompts would be welcome. I must warn you, it’s very anti-Snow and anti-David. 

This officially brings me over the 100k words threshold on Ao3, and that makes me ridiculously happy. Thanks to @still-searching47​, my beta and shameless enabler, for making it possible!

Ao3 link.

The wretched heroes came in the night. His family was sleeping peacefully in the Dark Castle, when Rumplestiltskin got a call from King David. He didn’t want to answer, but it was never wise to ignore a summoning from a king; kings were rich and powerful, and there was always something interesting to be gained from dealing with royals. Plus the man was outside. It must be important for King David to come to him, rather than just request his presence.

Oh, if only Rumplestiltskin had listened to his instinct.

Once he allowed the king entrance into his castle, David told him about a prophecy, according to which his daughter, Princess Emma, would be killed by a hooded figure in a few years. Fate and prophecies were tricky business, and Rumplestiltskin told the king as much. He explained how even seers could be wrong, how magic could muddle the visions, and how the future could unwind in unexpected ways. Rumplestiltskin knew that better than most, since the prophecy on how he was supposed to find Baelfire hadn’t played out; the circumstances that had led to their reunion had been completely different from what had been predicted. Of course, he didn’t tell the king about his personal experience, but he tired to make his point clear.

Suddenly, David grabbed his arm and slapped an anti-magic cuff on his wrist. The pain of having all of his magic suddenly constricted was almost unbearable, and Rumplestiltskin doubled over in pain. The king took advantage of that, and tied his arms behind his back. 

“What is this all about?” Rumplestiltskin asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice. 

He knew that, with his magic restricted, most of the protections he’d put on his home were gone, and all of his worst fears came to life as he saw David’s soldiers enter the castle, and hordes of fairies approach the windows. 

“The prophecy. We know who the hooded figure is: your son. Your son is destined to kill my daughter, and I won’t let that happen,” David said.

“No, my son… you CAN’T!” Rumplestiltskin screamed, hopelessly fighting against his bonds.

He didn’t even care of which of his sons David was speaking; he simply couldn’t let him hurt them. The once meek shepherd looked down at Rumplestiltskin without an ounce of mercy.

“I can, and I will. My daughter won’t die because of your cursed offspring.” Rumplestiltskin felt his blood turn cold as he heard screams coming from upstairs. He started shouting as well, calling for his wife and sons, not daring to ask what was being done to them. He tried to run upstairs, but the king’s soldiers stopped him, tying him up even tighter. He fought harder than he’d ever done, but without magic he had no chance against them. He broke down in tears, and he would have crashed to the ground if the soldiers keeping him still hadn’t had such a firm hold on him.

Eventually, the fairies and the guards that had gone upstairs came back, carrying the rest of his family. Rumplestiltskin thanked every deity he’d ever heard of for the fact that they were still alive, but rage roared in his chest at the sight of his wife’s bloodied face. She must have fought even harder than he did, and had had been beaten because of it. He’d make them pay for this, he’d make them all pay for this.

“King David. When I saw the crests on your soldiers’ armor I couldn’t believe it, but it’s really you. You used to be known as the merciful king, but I suppose you can’t truly know what’s in a person’s heart until they come to kidnap you,” Belle said, her voice dripping with disgust.

“Lady Belle, believe me, this doesn’t make me happy, but I have to protect my daughter, and your family is too much of a danger to her,” he replied.

“At least let our children go. They’ve never hurt anyone, you can’t really consider them a threat,” Belle pleaded, setting her pride and rage aside to try and protect her sons. 

“No, Belle, I won’t abandon you!” Bae shouted, and the guard holding him pulled hard on his hair to keep him in place. The boy whimpered in pain, and both Belle and Rumplestiltskin screamed his name.

“I’m afraid I can’t. You see, your son Gideon is fated to kill my daughter, and I’m not willing to take any risks,” David explained.

“Gideon? But he’s only seven, he’s nothing but a child, you can’t hurt him, please,” Belle begged again, terror overcoming her rage.

Gideon was probably crying too hard to hear what they were saying, the anti-magic cuff hurting him like it had hurt Rumple at first, and his parents’ hearts ached with the need to console him, to protect him, to hold him in their arms and never let go.

“If you all follow our orders, no one will get hurt. You will be brought to your prisons, and you’ll stay there for as long as we deem necessary,” the king told them.

Then he turned around, to face the Blue Fairy. 

“Blue, go ahead,” he instructed. 

The damned gnat waved her wand, and Rumplestiltskin felt his eyelids begin to close against his will. He tried to fight her spell, but to no avail. After a few seconds, everything went dark, and he fell into unconsciousness.

******************

He didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d been captured. Once he’d woken up in his cell, he’d spent every waking moment trying to find a way out. It wasn’t an easy task: he still had the anti-magic cuff on his wrist, the bars of his prison were imbued with fairy magic, and the corridors leading to the damp cave where his cell was located were always patrolled by guards. 

The worst part, however, was the effect the Dark One’s magic was having on his psyche. Unable to be let out, all of the Darkness he bore had been trapped in his brain, gradually muddling it with the memories of the dozens of Dark Ones before him. Slowly but inevitably, he was losing his sanity. 

Gideon, Bae, Belle. I must save them. I need to find a way out and save them. Queen Snow and King David will pay. I’ll gut them in front of their court and put their heads on my castle walls. NO. Belle wouldn’t like it. Putting their heads on spikes would be giving into darkness, and my family doesn’t like darkness. My family is light. But there’s only darkness here, no light, no light… Gideon, Bae, Belle. I must save them. They’re trapped because of me. They’re suffering because of me. They could be already dead, and it would be because of me. Stupid, weak Rumple. Belle wanted to break the curse, but you didn’t let her. No, I just wanted to wait until the boys were older and the castle safer. Stupid, cowardly Rumple. You have lost everything once again, and there will be no coming back from this. I know, I know. It’s all your fault. All you have left now is darkness, sweet darkness, turning your heart to coal so that it won’t be able to feel, so that the pain will fade. Darkness never leaves you alone.

I know, I know. 

I like the darkness.

Rumplestiltskin giggled in his dungeon, a sound as unsettling as nails on a blackboard, sending shivers down his captors’ spines.

******************

Belle knew exactly how much time had passed. She’d make a tally mark on her cell’s wall for every day, and the count had just reached seventy. Seventy days without her family. Seventy days since her sons had been ripped from her arms and sent who knows where, assuming that they were still alive. She had to believe they were still alive. She would have let herself die if she didn’t have at least the hope of being able to save them one day.

Seventy days. Seventy days all identical to one other, all spent trying to find a way out and finding none. 

She knew immediately when something wasn’t as it should have been, when the door to her cell opened at an unusual time. 

“Who the hell are you?” she shouted immediately, before the visitor stepped into the light and was revealed to be… “Gaston?”

“Yes, Belle, it’s really me,” he said, flashing her a bright smile.

The years had changed him, but his ability to make her feel ill at ease with his mere presence had remained unaltered. She could see in his eyes that he was still the same self-centered man she’d once known; he wasn’t here for her, he was here to accomplish another task he could pride himself for, to make himself look better in front of his fellow lords.

“And I brought you a little present,” he added, as if they were at a ball and he was offering her some expensive trinket.

He gestured to a servant that was waiting outside the cell, and the man came forward with a tray loaded with food. Not the tasteless gruel and stale bread they’d been feeding her; actual food, that filled her prison with a wonderful scent and made her mouth water. She got to her feet to take the tray from the servant’s hands, but she couldn't take more than a few steps before the chains locked around her wrists and ankles stopped her. All things considered, it was better that way: the tray was so heavy that she wouldn’t have managed to carry it across the whole cell. 

“What are you here for, Gaston?” she asked, once the tray was resting securely on her cot.

The sight of food had only managed to distract her for a moment, and she wanted to understand what was going on before she even touched it. 

“To help you, of course,” he replied.

“How did you know I was here? Why did the guards let you in?” she asked. 

“Well, because I’m a lord at the service of Their Royal Highnesses King David and Queen Snow White,” he said proudly.

“What? Your lands aren’t part of their kingdom,” she blurted out in confusion.

“They weren’t but, Belle, many things have changed since you left the civilized world to live with your…” he waved his hand, obviously trying to find the right term to express his disgust for Rumplestiltskin without upsetting her too much.

“With my husband, Gaston. He’s my husband,” she completed for him, regretting his arrival even more with every second that passed.

“Yes, I guess he is. As I was saying, my lands have been part of their kingdom for years now, I have married a girl from one of their most trusted noble families, and I’m one of their most loyal knights. That’s why I thought I could use my influence to help you,” he explained.

Despite his show about wanting to help her, he wasn’t convincing in the slightest, and Belle eyed him like a venomous snake.

“Then get me out of here, bring me to my family, and tell your precious royals to end this madness once and for all,” she dared him. 

He snorted at her naivety. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Your son is fated to kill the princess, and it’s my sworn duty to protect her. You, however, are a different matter. You were a noblewoman once, Belle. You have no magic, you are not directly related to the prophecy, you are not a real danger. If you show the intention to change your ways, if you’re willing to cooperate, I could probably convince their highnesses to send you into confinement in your father’s castle.”

A caustic response was already on the tip of Belle’s tongue, but when Maurice was nominated her worry for him became more important. “My father? How is he? Does he know what’s happened to his daughter and grandson?” she inquired anxiously.

“He’s fine, tired by the years and the events, but fine. I informed him of your current predicament, and under my suggestion he has already sent a plea to have you transferred to his castle.”

“They’ll never listen to it. They know that once in my father’s castle, I’d have many more chances to escape,” she replied, trying to hide the hurt she felt at the idea that her own father wasn’t ready to do anything more than send requests of mercy to try and save his family.

“No, you wouldn’t. Soldiers from this kingdom would be sent to guard you, and if you ran away you father’s duchy would be wiped out by our army,” Gaston replied, apparently indifferent to the horrors he was suggesting.

Belle’s mouth gaped open in shock. “Your precious royals are blackmailing him, that’s what they’re doing. They’re threatening to kill thousands of innocent people if my father so much as tries to help his family. And you, you of all people are helping them do that.”

That’s why her father wasn’t trying anything bolder than a plea for mercy. She felt sick.

“Well, don’t act so surprised, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you left a life of luxury and balls to marry the Dark One. You brought this on yourself. None of this would have happened if you’d stayed amongst the normal people, rather than bed that monster and bear his demonic spawn!”

If Gaston had any more hateful words to spat at her, he wasn’t able to utter them, because Belle threw the boiling stew he’d brought her at his face.

“GET OUT!” she screamed as Gaston spluttered and swore. “Get out of here, you with your hypocrisies and your lies. I’d rather rot here than submit to your blackmail; my honor is worth more than the gilded cage you’re offering me.”

She kept throwing at him every single piece of food she had received from him. Then, after tossing the empty tray to the ground, she got up, standing as tall as her minute stature allowed her, walking as close to him as she could with the chains still locked. “You think yourself better than me, better than my family, but one hair on my son’s head is worth more than you. You disgust me, and if you ever talk like that about my family ever again, I’ll show you how dangerous I can become,” she said, with fire in her eyes. 

He didn’t answer, but there was something cruel and wild in his gaze, and without any warning he raised his hand, slapping her so hard that she fell to the floor. By the time her pain had faded enough to think clearly again, Gaston had already spat on her and left the room.

Belle crawled back to her cot, fighting to hold back her tears until she could be sure that Gaston was really gone. The room was still filled with the scent of the food she hadn’t wanted to taste, and her stomach grumbled, making Belle feel even more clearly her disappointment and despair.

Seventy days. Seventy days since the last time she’d felt happiness.

******************

“Haven’t you heard what Blue said? He’s so powerful that from time to time the cuff is not enough to hold back his magic. The same enchantments are enough to contain the Dark One, yet can’t quite stop a seven year old child. No-one understands how that can possibly be. The fairies have to reinforce the spells on his cage every week. David, we need to do something,” Snow White whispered hastily.

She glanced at the Dark One’s son, the one destined to kill her daughter, who screamed and cried in his cage at the other end of the corridor.

“What do you want me to do, Snow? He’s just a child,” the king replied, not liking the implication behind his wife’s words.

“He won’t be a child forever, and this situation isn’t going to improve with time. Growing up he’ll only get stronger and angrier,” she insisted.

“Well, maybe he will be because he’ll grow up in a prison, separated from his family, knowing that we are responsible for it,” David hissed, growing more exasperated with every passing second.

True, he’d been the one to physically capture the Dark One’s family. Back then he’d done it with the firm belief that he was doing the right thing, that he was freeing the world from some of its worst monsters. Now, however, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. He hadn’t seen Lady Belle, Rumplestiltskin or his other son since the day of their capture, but he had checked on the child of the prophecy with Snow once before. 

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but what he’d found that day had broken his heart. The boy had been huddled in a corner of his damp, cold prison, sleeping restlessly and calling out for his family in his sleep. With his clothes torn and his hair dirty and ruffled, he hadn’t looked at all like a threat, just like a small child who had the right to be with his parents. Since then, David hadn’t been able to feel proud of what he’d done anymore.

“That’s why I say we should consider taking care of the matter now, before it’s too late. I don’t feel safe knowing that he’s here in our kingdom. I hoped that Blue would take him to the Fairy realm, but unlike us she was clever enough to realize that it’s not wise to have your worst and most powerful enemies trapped close to your home. That’s why she only took the other boy, and only after much insistence on our side,” his wife insisted.

“Snow, please, let’s just go,” he begged, giving up any hope of making her see his reasons. “This story has already caused too much tension within our family. I don’t want to have any more burdens on my conscience,” he sighed.

At the other end of the corridor, Gideon was screaming at the top of his tiny lungs. 

“Where is my mama? Where is my papa?” he shouted, grabbing furiously at the bars of his prison. “What did you do to them? What did you do to Bae?” he screamed again, but the two hooded figures at the end of the corridor didn’t answer.

He knew who they were. They’d already come to see him once, wearing the same cloaks, and back then he’d seen a glimpse of their faces. The taller one was the man that had taken him, King David, and if he was King David the other one had to be Snow White. He’d heard his parents talk about them, but he’d never seen them before. He knew that his papa once made deals with them, but they must have stopped dealing with him many years ago.

He screamed again, trying to gain their attention, trying to get an answer, any answer. Why were they keeping him prisoner? Why did they hate his family? He missed his papa’s funny faces, he missed the way his brother ruffled his hair when they played, and most of all he missed his mom’s warm arms. He was never warm here. Here it was dark and cold and damp, and the soggy things they gave him to eat tasted horrible. He wanted his mom’s teacakes, he wanted to sit with his papa at the spinning wheel in the warmth of the great hall, watching fascinated as his father turned straw into gold and promised that, one day, he’d teach him how to do just that.

He started crying, both in anger and sadness. He had always tried to be brave, to show his family that he wasn’t afraid of anything, not even of papa’s spider-infested dungeons, where he’d once gone to show his brother that he wasn’t a scared little kid. Now, however, he was more scared than he’d ever been. He just wanted his parents to come and take him away, to wrap him up in his favorite blanket and let him sleep in their bed, just like they did when he had bad dreams. He wanted his family.

Snow White looked at the crying boy across the corridor, and sighed heavily. “Fine, let’s go. I only hope you won’t have your daughter’s life on your conscience because of this,” she said, turning around.

David followed her without another word, haunted by the sound of the boy’s sobs echoing through the cave.

They were leaving, Gideon realized. They hadn’t even looked at him, and now they were leaving. He wouldn’t get any answers, not even today. No one had talked to him since he’d been brought here. He screamed and cried, but it was like no one could hear him. He was alone.

Suddenly his fear, his sadness, his loneliness, all turned into rage, rage directed at the two hooded figures that had just left. They were evil, eviler than any of the villains his papa had warned him about, and they’d hurt his family. He remembered the pain on his mom’s face when the soldiers had hit her, he remembered his brother’s screams, he remembered the tears in his papa’s eyes. The were evil, and for every villain like them there had to be a hero, he knew that much from his mama’s stories. He wanted to be that hero; he had magic, and if only he’d been able to use it he would have escaped this place, defeated the villains and saved his family.

He tried to focus, as he’d already tried doing so many times, attempting to use his magic to turn the bars into jelly. Changing an object’s consistence was always simpler than making it disappear, his papa had taught him that much. His papa had said that he was very powerful, and that he needed to start learning soon if he wanted to control his powers. He wanted to find his papa and go on with their lessons.

He could feel the well-known tingling in his hands, his palms growing hotter against the bars, and for a moment he almost believed he would make it. Then his left wrist started hurting like it had been set on fire, blocking his spell, and he fell to the floor, screaming in pain.

He started crying again. He would never get out of here, he wasn’t good enough. His papa would have known how to break free; his papa was strong and clever, and he knew more things than anyone.

But his papa wasn’t there with him.

******************

Baelfire was beside himself with worry; not for himself, but for his family. Since he’d been captured, the fairies that guarded him hadn’t been particularly nasty to him. Sure, the Blue Fairy eyed him with a disgust he didn’t comprehend, but the others pretty much ignored him, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing: it left him time to think. His cage wasn’t too bad either; it was mostly made of enchanted reeds, giving him plenty of holes from which he could observe the world around him.

He knew he was in the fairy realm; he’d already seen it while he was on the run from Neverland with Tinkerbell, and there was no mistaking it. Speaking of Tinkerbell, he kept hoping to see her one day. Having her help would give him his best chance to escape, but so far none of the fairies saddled with guarding or feeding duty had glowed with her trade-mark emerald green.

With or without Tinkerbell, he wouldn’t give up. It might take him more time, but he would find a way to escape anyway. His brother had done nothing to deserve all of this, and it was almost shocking when, one night, Baelfire realized that now he probably knew how his father had felt all those years ago, when he was afraid his son would be drafted at any given moment. Now Baelfire knew what it felt like when someone who was more powerful than you decided to put someone you cared about in danger, someone who was young and helpless and in need of protection. He’d escape and go and find his brother, if it was the last thing he did.

He was a restless sleeper. He’d lost the ability to sleep peacefully on Neverland, where sleeping too heavily could mean waking up in Pan’s camp. The past three years spent at the Dark Castle had helped him regain a regular sleep schedule, but since the soldiers had come to take them in the night he’d been unable to get more than a few hours of troubled sleep at a time.

That night, however, it wasn’t a nightmare that woke him up: there was something floating in front of his closed eyes, something that was small, glowing, and maybe… green? He bolted awake in a instant, blinking his eyes furiously to focus on the tiny fairy that was flying a few inches away from his face.

Tinkerbell gestured at him to stay silent, then waved her tiny wand, and Baelfire felt his cage click open. He wordlessly followed his old friend out of the clearing where his cage had been located, his mind buzzing with questions he hoped she could answer.

Tinkerbell stopped as soon as they were well-hidden amongst the trees. She waved her wand again, and a portal started forming on the ground in front of them. The bright rainbow vortex wasn’t exactly sneaky, and Baelfire could hear the fairies scream in alarm, but it was already too late. He barely had the time to feel Tink’s now full-size hand wrap around his arm, before she pulled him into the portal along with her. In a moment, they were gone.

He landed gracelessly on the forest’s floor, and briefly thought that portals were definitely his least favorite thing ever. Before he could even get back on his feet, Tink was already pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long. Blue still doesn’t trust me, so I wasn’t given any guarding duty. I had to study the situation from afar and plan everything in detail, or I would have only made things worse,” she explained in a rush.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s already a miracle that you managed to break me out, you really don’t have to worry about the timing,” he reassured her.

He was almost surprised by the relief he felt hugging her. For over two months he’d been completely isolated, and now Tink, one of his oldest friends, was finally making him feel protected and cherished. 

“Well, you’ve surely grown a lot since the last time I saw you, haven’t you?” she said when she pulled back from the hug.

She was right. Mentally, Baelfire had been forced to grow up a lot to survive on Neverland, but even though he had technically been born over two hundred years before, this was the first time Tink could see him more as an adult than as a boy. Physically he was almost eighteen now, and while his father insisted that he still pouted like a child whenever Gideon stole food from his plate, Baelfire knew that he already looked like a man.

“I’m no longer a lost boy, am I? Even though I have to admit I have no idea where we are,” he quipped, smiling despite everything.

“We’re at the edge of the Enchanted Forest, and we should start moving. I could only open a portal to this realm, but we can’t stay here. They’ll be searching for us like crazy, and I really don’t want to know what would happen if they caught us,” Tink explained, reminding them of the dangerous predicament they were in.

She bolted past him, determined to put as much distance between them and their chasers as possible, but Baelfire stopped her immediately, grabbing her by the arm.

“What do you mean? I’m not leaving! My family is still trapped somewhere, and I will go and rescue them!” he vowed, more determined than Tink had ever seen him.

She sighed, trying to find the right words to make him see reason.

“Baelfire, it was already a miracle that I managed to save you, and you were probably the least guarded of your family. Blue told Snow and David that you were born before your father became the Dark One, hence you have no powers. Not to mention the fact that you’ve only been in the Dark Castle for a few years; nobody really associates you with the Dark One, in their eyes you’re not a real threat. The same can’t be said for the rest of your family. You know Belle caused quite a scandal a few years ago, when she was freed from Regina’s tower and chose to go back to Rumplestiltskin. You might not know this, but since then most people have been calling her the Dark Lady. She’s frowned upon, looked at with mistrust and contempt, and I’m sure that Snow and David saw her as a bigger threat than you could possibly be. Your father is the Dark One himself, they’re probably guarding him with the most powerful magic available. As for your brother, he is both the son of the Dark One and the product of True Love, not to mention the boy from the prophecy: every fairy and soldier of the realm is probably guarding him, assuming that he’s even still alive-”

“Don’t you even suggest that. Please, don’t,” Baelfire interrupted her.

Tinkerbell had the decency to look ashamed. “Right, I’m sorry. I mean that getting to him would basically be a suicide mission. That’s not even considering the fact that, now that you’ve escaped, they’re probably expecting you to try to save them, so they’ll be more careful. If you go, you’ll be playing right into their hands; you’ll just get caught again, and all of this will have been for naught. Please, Baelfire, don’t be foolish,” Tinkerbell begged him, but she could see that he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m sorry, Tink. If you if you want to go, then go. I won’t be dragging you along on a suicide mission, but I have to try,” he vowed. His eyes were resolute but his tone was calm; he wasn’t going to be dissuaded.

Tinkerbell sighed in acquiescence. “Fine. I’m sure we’re both going to regret this, but I won’t leave you to face it alone. I’m with you, no matter what.”

Bae hugged her, overjoyed. “Wonderful! So, what do you think we should do first?” he asked.

Tink already knew what they’d have to do, but that didn’t mean she liked it. 

“Now we go find the only person who has reason to hate Snow and David as much as you do, and less inclination than most to want your father trapped,” she suggested reluctantly

“And who is that?” Baelfire inquired.

“An old friend of mine. Her name is Regina.”

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.59

“Ties That Bind”

A/N: This chapters covers the first part of episode 3, “Context is for Kings.”

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << Part 58 - Forward the Frontier Part 60 - Wayward Soldier >>

As Lorca looked at Mischkelovitz's mycelial map on the astrometrics display, he marveled at the beauty of it. Even incomplete, it was a truly impressive initial framework she had assembled.

But then, such assemblies were her specialty. It was no accident that she had been able to create a particle map of null time. Relative positioning was the main focus of her personal research and went to the core of the methodology she had attempted to employ to save her husband. Mischkelovitz saw the universe as a collection of infinitesimally small puzzle pieces. She could see how they fit together and extrapolate connections in a way most other people could not. To her, the main problem with the null time puzzle in the mess hall was that it only had a thousand pieces and was entirely predictable.

Mischkelovitz was standing on the other side of the display, visible through the snaking tendrils of the map as he spun and enlarged it, honing in on the areas with the most detail, zipping across the gaps. She had included color-coded projections of what might fill the gaps.

"This is damn impressive, Mischka," he said.

"It's only a start," she said. "I need more jumps in order to get enough data. But..."

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I noticed something. It's almost like..." She looked down, clasped her hands together nervously, swallowed.

"Out with it."

"It sounds crazy, but I think the network goes more places than Lieutenant Stamets thinks."

"He thinks it goes everywhere in the universe," pointed out Lorca. "That covers everything, I'm pretty sure."

She looked up, wide-eyed like a startled deer. "That's not what I mean." Lorca frowned and held his hand out expectantly for an explanation. "I think it might be able to go places outside the universe."

Lorca let that statement hang in the air a moment. Then he said, "That does sound crazy." Mischkelovitz was crestfallen to be labeled as such, but Lorca buoyed her right back up: "But crazy doesn't mean wrong."

Mischkelovitz approached the display and tweaked it with her fingers, jumping to a specific spot. "Here," she said, enlarging a small section. There were lines of glowing blue dots flowing towards a single point. "There's a point of egress right here next to where we exited on our ninth mycelial jump, but this point doesn't correspond to where it should in our rysical feality. It stands to reason this energy is exiting to someplace else."

He did not even bother correcting her at this point, and if she noticed herself make the mistake, she gave no indication. "You mean like another reality?"

She bit her lip, not quite willing to confirm this idea without more data. As exciting as this hypothesis was, she was still a good scientist and this was little more than wild speculation on her part. "Maybe?"

Lorca whistled in appreciation. "I think you might be on to something, doctor. But we'd better keep it to ourselves, because the minute we start suggesting alternate universes, they're gonna throw us in a looney bin." He chuckled, joking, but for once this was a joke that scared her more than it amused. Lorca sighed. "You just keep gathering data. When we have enough to prove you're right, they won't be able to lock either of us up."

He ordered Discovery away from the front lines under the guise of a concession to Cornwell for their momentary disobedience, but there was just as much another reason for their destination, and it was not a reason Lorca shared with anyone else.

Lalana had come through. Whoever owed her that favor must have had considerable resources at their disposal, because within days Burnham was on a transport shuttle diverted straight towards Discovery with one important obstacle in its path.

He was in his ready room tracking the shuttle's position when the bridge cut in to alert him of the distress signal. He sprayed his eyes to compensate for the light shift he was about to endure and strode out onto the bridge. "Status report!"

"It's a prison transport shuttle. The pilot is reporting an electrical mite infestation and she's become untethered from the shuttle itself."

"Do we have a lock on her?"

"EV transponder loud and clear," reported Owosekun.

"Get us in range and beam her aboard. And the shuttle?"

"It's continuing on its course. Four prisoners onboard."

"Get a tractor on it and get me the passenger manifest."

"Aye, captain."

His next command was more targeted. "Commander Landry!" he said sharply, which was as much of a summons as Landry needed to leave her tactical console and join him in his ready room. Landry cast a look at the tribble on his desk. She did not entirely approve of the creature and its frequent cooing.

"Will you look at that," said Lorca as he brought up the passenger manifest. "Michael Burnham."

"You're shitting me," said Landry, eyes widening. She could see the evidence well enough herself. Michael Burnham, the legendary mutineer of the Battle of the Binary Stars, the linchpin upon which most of the Federation blamed the war.

Lorca smiled at Landry's reaction. "Well, Federation regulations state that prisoners are to be treated with a modicum of respect, so see to it they're fed and find them a little space to sleep. We wouldn't want to be seen as inhospitable."

"Wouldn't we?" said Landry. He was talking about a group of prisoners, Burnham among them, not model citizens of the Federation deserving of their help. "You want me to tuck them in while I'm at it?"

"Sometimes I forget you're from Canada," said Lorca, amused.

"You can't believe everything they say about Canadians, sir," said Landry.

"That you're all vicious, uncivilized, blood-thirsty savages?"

Landry rolled her eyes. "Very funny," she said.

"And bring Burnham to me after they're fed. I'd like to meet our mutineer for myself."

"Yes, captain," said Landry, clearly disagreeing with this entire course of action, but there was no questioning her ability to follow orders or her personal loyalty to him.

Landry headed off to complete her assignment and Lorca summoned Saru to the ready room. The Kelpien was startled to arrive and find the face of Michael Burnham awaiting him on the display alongside the other prisoners.

"Looks like we have an unexpected guest," said Lorca. "You served with her for years. Tell me everything I need to know about Michael Burnham."

It did not take long for news of Burnham to spread across most of the ship. When the fight erupted in the mess hall, Lorca watched from his ready room with amazement on the security feeds as Burnham disabled all three of her fellow inmates with unflinching ease. It was perfect, too, how Landry waited until Burnham had finished defending herself before intervening, because anything less would have deprived him of the chance to truly see Burnham in action. It was such a good show, it was a shame he had no popcorn.

He waited for Burnham at the window, his hands resting on the windowsill, eyes fixed on the stars. He winced faintly as light filtered in when the door slid open and Burnham entered, but with his back to the door, there was no way for her to see the momentarily flash of pain on his face. He smiled at the starry view. "No matter how deep in space you are, it always feels like you can see home, don't you think?" The only answer to this question was the cooing of the tribble on his desk. "Maybe it's just me."

He could see her reflected in the window, watching him. She stood straight as a rod, and as unflinchingly, clad in a mustard yellow prison jumpsuit.

"Forgive the lighting," he said. "The lack thereof. A recent battle injury. There's nothing they can do if I want to keep my own eyes, and, I do. I have to suffer light change slowly. I like to think it makes me mysterious." He smiled at that, chuckled softly, and turned towards her at last.

She remained impassive. Not even an inkling of reciprocity at the smile he offered her.

"No?" he asked. She was even tougher than he expected. "Captain Gabriel Lorca. Welcome to Discovery."

The meeting with Burnham remained on his mind long after she was gone from his ready room. He kept going over the events in his head. It had not gone entirely as he had wanted. She was stubborn, willful, idealistic, and extremely wary of him. But Lorca had read her file, Saru was entirely forthcoming when asked, and he knew full well what drove Michael Burnham.

Michael Burnham needed problems to solve and the freedom to solve them her own way. Michael Burnham needed mysteries and challenges to overcome. She needed a purpose. She would find all this and so much more on Discovery. He poked the tribble lightly. It cooed happily in response. It was a simple creature.

"Sickbay to Captain Lorca."

Lorca could tell from the tone of Culber's voice that this was going to be an admonishment, but far be it for him to ignore the call of his chief medical officer. "Go ahead, doctor."

"Captain, are you aware that I have three Starfleet prisoners in my sickbay being treated for injuries they incurred in a fight?"

"I am now," said Lorca. Truthfully, this was not news; where else would the prisoners have been taken after that altercation?

His tone was entirely too lighthearted. Culber was terse in response. "Captain, I needn't remind you that pursuant to Starfleet penal code—"

"Then don't," said Lorca. "Save us both the wasted breath. Anything else, doctor?"

"The pilot's fine," offered Culber, annoyed that Lorca had not thought to ask.

"Then it sounds like everything's just peachy in sickbay." There was a certain degree of antipathy in this assessment.

Culber paused. "Just keeping you updated," he managed, his own distaste evident. "Sickbay out."

Lorca shook his head softly. Too many people on this ship came with walking baggage. He tapped the comms. "Lorca to Landry. Commander, let's keep Burnham isolated from our other guests. I believe there's a bed free in cadet quarters." Landry probably disagreed with this course of action as much as everything else that afforded the inmates any kindness, but she acknowledged his command without complaint.

The tribble cooed. Lorca ran his fingers through its fur. There really was something to be said for simple creatures.

It finally seemed he had everything he needed, so of course, it blew up in his face.

His only intent was to thank Lalana for her assistance with the Burnham matter. He beamed to the corridor outside the lab with a pair of fortune cookies. Allan let him in. He found Lalana sitting on the table next to one of Mischkelovitz's cloak detection devices in the main lab area. Mischkelovitz was compiling test results on a display and Groves sat off in his usual corner, feet up with a padd in hand.

"Gabriel! How lovely to see you. Has the operation completed?" Apparently Lalana had been in the main lab area or she would have seen as much on her monitor.

"Indeed it has." He held the cookie out to Lalana. She took it with her tail.

"Operation?" asked Groves.

"We rescued a few wayward travelers in distress," said Lorca, openly bragging. "Prisoners. And you'll never guess who was with them." He offered the second cookie to Mischkelovitz and she beamed happily at the gift.

"Then don't leave us in suspense, you're obviously dying to tell," said Groves sullenly, rolling his eyes at the fortune cookies. He still refused them entirely.

"Michael Burnham," said Lorca, stretching it out into two distinct moments for drama, grinning as if this were a great achievement on his part.

Mischkelovitz froze with half a cookie on her lips and let out a whimper. "Ne kol t'vassa?" she said in a small voice.

Groves put down his padd. "You're joking, right? This is one of your stupid jokes?"

Lorca frowned disapprovingly at Groves, whose jokes were altogether much stupider.

"It is not a joke," said Lalana. "Like Emellia, Michael Burnham was much reviled after the events at the Binary Stars, but also like Emellia, should she not have an opportunity to redeem herself in service of resolving this conflict? I have heard Michael Burnham is quite exceptional and I am sure Gabriel will be able to find an excellent use for her."

This was Lorca's argument almost point for point, but Mischkelovitz seemed not to hear it. She stared into the distance with vacant eyes. "Me oh'tronna," she said. "Me oh'traat vasiinen."

Groves sat up, looking alarmed. "Nai-yo vrakohl, Mischka."

Mischkelovitz's eyes seemed suddenly to refocus. She turned sharply towards Groves and started shouting at him while Lalana and Lorca stared, oblivious to what was being said. It was entirely frustrating listening to a conversation in another language, but Lorca was quite certain he caught the name "Burnham" as Mischkelovitz balled her hands into fists, crushing both halves of her cookie, and threw the crumbs to the floor. She turned and dove under her desk, opening the entrance to wherever it was she usually slept.

Groves shouted something and dove after her, managing to grab hold of her uniform. He tried to pull her out from under the desk. Mischkelovitz twisted, kicking at Groves so hard it sent his head smashing up into the corner of her desk and ripped a line of flesh from his forehead. Mischkelovitz wriggled free as Groves rolled aside, reeling from the force of the impact, and she disappeared into the wall.

Lalana hopped down from the table. "Are you all right, John?"

"What the hell just happened?" asked Lorca, looking to Groves for an explanation.

Groves tentatively touched his hand to his forehead, gasping at the sensation of raw, exposed flesh. Blood dripped onto the floor. He winced and shuddered as he carefully pressed the flap of skin back up into place. "Go get her," he hoarsely hissed at Lalana.

Lalana turned and looked at Lorca, expression as unchanging as ever, but it was easy enough to imagine a look of concerned confusion. She ducked into the wall passage in pursuit of Mischkelovitz.

Lorca stared down at Groves, utterly unsympathetic. "I'm still waiting on an explanation, specialist."

Though Groves did not respond in any language Lorca understood, the intonation of his words sounded a lot like he was telling Lorca what the captain could go do with himself. Groves pulled himself to his feet using the desk. The hand pressed to his forehead only partly staunched the flow of blood. Half of Groves' face was now dripping red.

"In English," specified Lorca.

Groves did not comply. "Saal mo prohti se'kaal beratiikannen. Ke bo'tro si kii? Je kaal'do'hol!" Even if the words were not clear, the emotion was. There was derision in there, and bitterness. Groves began to pace, muttering to himself and waving his free arm. Blood dripped from his chin to the floor, leaving a trail of dark droplets down his uniform. The drops on the floor quickly turned into bloody smudges under his feet.

Lorca suspected Groves was intentionally trying to antagonize him by not speaking English. He tried to think of a way to simultaneously neutralize Groves and get the information he needed. An impromptu interrogation into Groves' childhood seemed a little too out of left field. The brig was clearly not an effective threat. Threatening to remove him from Discovery was slightly too abstract in the moment and more likely to antagonize O'Malley and Mischkelovitz, and Lorca still needed Mischkelovitz. In particular, he needed to know Mischkelovitz had not just abandoned everything because of Michael Burnham's presence on Discovery.

There was always the threat of physical violence, but Lorca dismissed it. That was not the Starfleet way. As frustrating as it was to admit, Groves really did not let anyone have any leverage over him, which was trait Lorca could admire except for the fact he was on the wrong end of it.

It took twenty seconds for O'Malley to arrive when called. He must have used the site to site transporter into the hall. He was still in his sleepwear and his mouth fell open in shock at the sight of the blood on Groves' face. "What the hell happened!"

"He got kicked," offered Lorca. When O'Malley's eyes turned accusing, Lorca clarified, "By Mischka," and then shrugged exaggeratedly to indicate he had no clue beyond that and certainly it had nothing to do with him.

O'Malley's confusion only deepened as he attempted to get some further explanation from Groves. After two questions failed to elicit anything more than syllables of apparent nonsense, O'Malley shouted, "John, stop it, I can't understand you when you're talking kworyaan! Sim—sim trell ka—" O'Malley struggled, clearly knowing a few words, but not enough to form a sentence.

This only served to enrage Groves. He stopped pacing and snarled at O'Malley, "You'll never be one of us and your mother will never love you or Emellia so just shut up!"

It was a decided cruel sentiment even devoid of any context. O'Malley, to his credit, ignored it, turned to Lorca, and asked very pointedly, "Where is my sister?"

That part, Lorca knew. "She went in the wall. Lalana's with her."

O'Malley groaned faintly and shook his head. "Right. I need to get two doses of veter- vitter-toxic—"

"Vetroxican, you idiot!" said Groves. "How can you not remember that!"

O'Malley whirled on Groves and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Just because I'm not as smart as the lot of you doesn't mean I'm an idiot! Now will you sit down and let me help you!"

Lorca's eyes went wide in surprise and struggled to contain the smile spreading on his face because O'Malley losing his temper was utterly hilarious and this was an entirely inappropriate response to the situation. Groves, at least, was not so amused and immediately sat down in his chair. O'Malley comm'd Allan to fetch two doses of Vetroxican from sickbay, "and don't let them tell you no."

"As if they could," said Allan.

The phrasing mildly concerned Lorca. "Lorca to sickbay." Culber answered. "Please see to it Major Allan gets whatever he needs." Culber assented with a note of confusion in his voice as to why Allan was in need of anything, but Lorca had no interest in filling the doctor in.

O'Malley frowned. "That wasn't necessary, really."

"I think it was," countered Lorca, who trusted O'Malley and Allan to adhere to proper protocols about as much as he trusted himself. (This was an entirely accurate assessment on Lorca's part.)

O'Malley went over to Groves then, tugging Groves' hand away from his head. Groves resisted the attention. Still short-tempered, O'Malley said, "Knock it off, John. Do you think I like doing this? Do you think this is what brings me happiness?"

"Then stop," said Groves bitterly. He dropped his hand away from the wound, letting the blood drip down his face. "I hate you."

"I hate you, too, but I don't let it stop me." O'Malley examined the wound. The flap of flesh was considerable, but also well-attached. Mostly it was lot of blood.

Propelled by a need to be relevant, Lorca located the medkit and brought it over. "He should go to sickbay. He could have a concussion," he advised. "It was a pretty good whack."

O'Malley snorted as he cleaned around the wound and made use of the medical tricorder's default scans to assess the situation. "Right. John, care to tell the captain why you'll never go to sickbay?" Groves glowered. O'Malley sighed. "He can't go to sickbay because if he goes to sickbay, they'll figure it out right quick his medical records are all falsified."

"Not my height and weight," said Groves.

"Yes, well, if only all medical care were based on your height and weight," said O'Malley acerbically.

Lorca leaned back against the worktable in the middle of the lab and crossed his arms. "Groves, you might be the most frustrating person I have ever met. Why would you falsify that?" Falsifying medical records was not only potentially criminal, but falsifying your own was without question criminally stupid because when you needed medical intervention, your best hope was that the records were correct.

Groves smiled then, which looked truly macabre with all the blood still on his face. "'Cause, captain." This seemed to be all the explanation he was offering.

Lalana emerged from under Mischkelovitz's desk. "I do not know that I am helping Emellia. She keeps saying something about Burnham, but I do not know what."

"Burnham? As in Michael Burnham?" asked O'Malley. "Why would she be talking about her?"

Groves' smile widened into a manic grin. "Oh, you're gonna love this!"

O'Malley kicked Lorca out of the lab. He did not actually have that authority, but Lorca complied, because O'Malley seemed to be at the end of a heavily knotted rope and there was clearly nothing Lorca could do until everyone in the lab calmed down, which was not something he had any control over. His decision to bring Burnham aboard had caused a chain of events in Lab 26 that would not be easily brushed aside.

As if that weren't enough, Culber then decided Lorca needed to be questioned about the fact he had essentially ordered Culber to give two doses of Vetroxican, a highly controlled neural inhibitor, to a security officer for what reason exactly?

"Dr. Mischkelovitz needed it for her research," said Lorca, the explanation so paltry he failed to convince even himself.

He could practically hear Culber's head shaking over the comm. "Captain, I understand Dr. Mischkelovitz probably doesn't deserve the reputation she has, but I have to ask, what exactly is she working on?"

"It's classified."

"Captain, if she's conducting experiments on live subjects with this drug, it's in violation of every standard of medical ethics—"

"That's enough, doctor," said Lorca sharply. "Her research has been approved by Starfleet Command and that is all you need to know."

As usual, Culber folded to Lorca's ultimate authority, but was unhappy about it. "I have a responsibility to ensure the well-being of everyone on this ship, and I take that seriously."

"Rest assured, you have no reason for concern." This lie, at least, sounded more convincing, probably because it was halfway true. There really was nothing unethical about Mischkelovitz's research.

Culber was momentarily satisfied, but Lorca was frustrated. After everything, he finally had all the pieces he wanted and needed, and they seemed to be crumbling in his fingers. Mischkelovitz had vanished into a wall, Burnham was obstinate and defensive, Stamets was still regrettably Stamets, and now Culber apparently suspected Mischkelovitz of medical ethics violations. This was not going as intended. What was next? Saru accusing him of farming Kelpiens for emergency rations?

He really, really needed a win.

Part 60