#they are doing it nasty style in a tent somewhere i just know it

[leckiestrikes]

are they. yknow

[pascalpanic]

I’ve been feeling it for Javi lately because I just started narcos and safe to say I’m obsessed. I was thinking about how sometimes he might not be the best at communicating when he’s had a bad day or needs something from his partner but imagine him coming home after a long week and being surprised by his girl welcoming him home in a full on matching lingerie set like Ouf. He would be so feral but also so happy that he finally has someone who just knows him enough to know he needs a lil loving

Angel (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: ^^^

Warnings: lots of sexual shit, pwp essentially, lingerie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected P in V sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), squirting, cum-eating, spanking/a single slap to the thigh, dom/sub elements

W/C: 2k

A/N: I’m trying to clear out my inbox! if you have a request it’s coming! anyway good morning have some smut.

“Welcome home, baby,” you coo as the lock clicks open and Javier walks into the apartment. There’s a thud as he drops his briefcase, and a strangled noise as he looks up and spots you, perched on the arm of the sofa.

You’re wearing a creamy white lingerie set, and Javier thinks he’s going to die. Long white stockings cover your legs, held up by a garter belt encircling your waist. You wear lacy white crotchless panties, and your legs are spread open to showcase the fact. Your breasts are held up by a tight bustier, with sheer cups to allow him to see how your nipples have peaked. There’s even a matching white choker around your neck, lacy and delicate. The bustier has straps across your chest, with a ring in the middle- the whole thing has a very bondage-esque vibe, and it sends all of the blood in the DEA agent’s body to his painfully hard dick.

Javier nearly quakes when he sees the sight in front of him. It’s been a long week, filled with seemingly endless hours at the office, coming home for a few hours of sleep and a shower. He’d been at Steve’s throat, but when the office got sent home early on this Friday night, he took the first chance he could to get out.

You’ve noticed. How can you not? Javi’s never around, and when he is, he’s frustrated. What better way to relax him than with his favorite vice, your body?

From where you sit, you beckon Javier over with a single finger. He gulps and you can already see his pants tenting at the sight of you. The white is stunning, making him fall to his knees in front of you. It makes you look so innocent, so pure, and Javier thinks of all the nasty things you’ve done to each other; you’re far from innocent now. “Baby girl,” Javier whispers reverently, his hands sliding up your stocking-covered legs.

“You like it?” You ask and arch your back a little, breasts sticking out further, legs spread wider. “It’s all for you, Javi,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair. “Know you had a tough week. You didn’t tell me, but I knew.”

He nods and rests his head against your knee. “The hardest I’ve ever had. So fuckin’ close to getting Quica, and yet-“

“Don’t start talking shop,��� you whisper to him, massaging his scalp. “It’s the weekend, baby. No work until Monday.” Your foot traces up and down his clothed side. “I got all this for you,” you murmur to him and take his hand, tracing it up to cup your breast, moaning softly as you make him roll his thumb across your nipple.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” Javier groans as he paws at the skin through the lace, feeling the delicate nub against his fingertips. “Like an angel.” His Texan accent comes out when he’s tired or turned on, and it’s hard to tell at first which one.

You know which one it is when his other hand traces across the lace panties, his fingers running over skin where the panties are slit. “Javi,” you whimper as he finds the dripping wetness of your core. “Please, baby. You wanna use me? Go right ahead.”

Grunting, Javier stands. He pulls his hands away from you completely, making you groan, but then he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, making you squeal, and gets to work undressing himself. He mutters in frustration as he has to go through every little button.

Moments later, he’s completely nude, his rock-hard length evident. “Mm, dulzura,” he murmurs as he kneels on the edge of the bed and pulls you to it.

“Baby,” you whine as he spreads your legs, but he doesn’t go for your aching slit quite yet. Javier’s lips find the edge of your stockings and press kisses there, then he traces along the edges with his tongue. The feeling is overwhelmingly arousing, feeling Javier’s hot mouth through the holes of the lace. He finishes one leg and moves to the other, making you pout. “Please, Javi. Don’t tease.”

Javier smacks his hand into your thigh, hard, leaving the hot mark of his palm and fingers behind. He looks up at you with fiery eyes. “You told me to use you. I’m doing what the fuck I want to do,” he murmurs, going back to his actions and nipping at the skin.

You squeal at the feeling of his teeth, at the way he’s manhandling you but somehow painfully soft and affectionate. It’s the most perfectly Javier moment, especially when he sits back and stands, then pulls you to him by the loop over your chest.

“I’m not playing nice tonight,” he warns you, his face close to yours. “You still want it?”

Now it’s your turn to gulp. Javier is painfully hard, you can feel it against your side, and all you want is that inside of you, no matter the cost. “Yes, Javi,” you purr submissively, and he pulls you even closer with a finger through the metal loop.

He kisses you bruisingly hard, his hip starting to rut into your side. You nip at his lip teasingly and Javier grunts, breaking away and panting. “Oh fuck,” he shudders as he looks down at your breasts in that bustier, pushing them up higher. He falls to his knees on the bed this time, pulling you closer by the loop once more and turning his attention to your chest.

Not a millimeter of skin is untouched, Javier’s mouth kissing and licking and sucking and biting you. There’s sure to be constellations of love bites and bruises across your tits tomorrow, but you want it. You wrap your arms around Javi and fall back, lying down now.

Javier suckles your nipples through the lace, dampening the lingerie and making you groan helplessly. One of his thighs is pressed against your aching clit, and you grind against it, desperate to feel anything from him. You cry out as he tugs at the nipple with his teeth, pulling the lingerie with his mouth. You grind yourself harder into the strong muscle of his leg, desperate.

“You want my mouth somewhere else, bebita?” Javier murmurs with his mouth between your tits, eyes looking up at you with both teasing and desire.

Nodding, you roll your hips into his leg again. “Right here, Javi,” you choke out, spreading your legs wider and planting your heels on the bed for traction.

“I want to take my time and devour every inch of you, pretty girl,” he murmurs as his lips find your navel, just above the garter belt. “And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

Nodding, Javier laps at the soft skin of your stomach, his hands gripping your sides as he works lower, dampening the edges of the lace panties with his painfully wet and hot tongue.

Your legs open wider and you bury your hands in his hair, and he finally turns his attention to the aching between your legs. “I haven’t even touched you here yet,” he murmurs in astonishment as he runs a finger through your folds, smirking as you keen into his finger when it presses against your clit. You’re drenched and you know it. “Hands and knees,” Javier orders, and you immediately comply.

He does this sometimes, when he wants you to feel it in a different way. His hands grip your ass, digging into the soft plush skin he finds there. The soft noise you make at the feeling of his fingers digging in is overtaken by a louder moan as his mouth finally finds your clit, sucking and lapping at it.

You’re so aroused that it takes a very short time before you’re coming apart, face pressed into the pillows. “Javi, Javi,” you cry again and again, fingers digging into the bedsheets.

He slips two fingers inside of you and you’re done for. The second he curls them, you shout his name again and let yourself go, the agonizing bliss rushing through your body.

When you’re done, Javi delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “Didn’t say you could cum,” he reminds you and kneads the flushed skin he just struck. “That means I’m going to fuck you and I don’t give a damn if you cum again.”

With any other man, you’d snort. One orgasm is all you get if you’re lucky. But this is Javier. He’ll spend hours with his mouth on you, making you cum so many times he has to be the one to keep track.

But this is Javier, and so you nod and wave your ass seductively in the air, daring to push into his hips and grind the soft skin there into his hard member. “Okay,” you murmur, and Javier pushes into you harshly, groaning at the way the lace parts with your folds.

The feeling of him inside of you is always a stretch, but always in the best way. He wastes no time in chasing his own high, gripping your hips hard and thrusting with all of his might.

Every slap of his hips into your ass, every time he pounds into your g-spot, every little thing he does is too much. You’re still reeling from the orgasm not too long ago, overwhelmed and rushed.

It doesn’t matter that Javier isn’t trying to get you off; he does it anyway. The pounding into your g-spot coupled with the way his dick stretches you had you orgasming again, squirting all over him and crying out his name.

“Look at that,” he says with a smirk, between grunts. “Look at you, bebita. Not even getting you off, just fucking using you, and you squirt all over me. But you didn’t fucking ask, did you?” He says with another smack to the ass. He pulls out completely, leaving you feeling desperately empty and fluttering against nothing. “Sit up.”

You comply, feeling your sensitive clit as it brushes against the cool bedsheets. You look up at him with wide eyes, as if you don’t know what seems to be the problem.

“You said to use you, I’m going to use you. Open,” he says and cups your jaw. Once you do, he wastes no time in slipping himself into the desperately hot confines of your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him and he grunts. “Dirty girl. You don’t even get to cum like this and you love it.”

You nod as you suck on the tip, working your tongue against the frenulum. He’s achingly hard, just about to cum. You know it. You know Javier’s body, know the little mannerisms.

“I’m going to cum down your throat, you got that?” He asks as he holds onto your throat, not squeezing or pressing. Just holding you there. In response, you take him into your throat and swallow around him, making him groan harder.

“Fuckin’ dirty little angel, wearing white lingerie and making me fuck her,” he says with a strained voice, impossibly close. “I ruined her. I ruined her and she fuckin’ loves it- fuck,” he cries as he shoots his hot release down your throat and you swallow every last bit.

When he’s done, he pulls out from your mouth and groans, lying on the bed and pulling you to follow him. His arms wrap around you and he kisses your head. “Was that what you had in mind?” He asks with a hoarse voice.

“Are you relaxed?” You ask, swallowing hard and knowing your throat will be sore in the morning. Just another delicious reminder of how good Javier is.

He nods softly, and you smile and kiss his lips ever so lightly. “Then it’s exactly what I wanted.”

-

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[jarofstyles]

King of the Jungle III- Açai*

A/N: Sorry for the wait!! We’ve had lots going on so we haven’t had a chance to write this one, but here is the highly requested continuation of our Tarzan!harry piece. You find out a little bit more about Harry in this one... they do the nasty again 👀but as always, this is all fiction so enjoy ✨✨✨ - n + d send feedback and requests here

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: mentions of death, smut, primal!kink, squirting 👀

word count: 8k

Y/N’s family had never been keen on a hands on approach to their work. Gorillas are rather territorial and protective creatures and messing with them could have them all get extremely hurt. Instead, Y/N and the crew stayed at a safe distance and collected data. It was more observational, they’d only step in if anyone got hurt. 

The whole day Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. She wanted to know more about him and hoped that through speaking with him and showing him things that he would develop at a quicker pace. She hated feeling like she was above him in any way shape or form, but also knew that it was good to keep a safe barrier between the two of them. When Y/N got back to the camp for dinner she decided to do some investigating. 

“How long have humans been coming here?” Y/N asked curiously, wondering if people had known about this place for a while or if it was her family that discovered it. “Just wondering because it seems like there are tons of resources here... seems like, like there were people here before you know?” Y/N didn’t want to blow her cover, no. Maybe tomorrow she could go to Harry’s tree house and see how it was that he knew English. Maybe have him tell her more? Part of her didn't want to push him too hard, but she really did need answers. It was the only way she could help him.

“Well let’s see….30 years ago,” Her father spoke, “there was a plane crash off the coast, think it had something to do with British Royals.” 

It made Y/N’s eyes widen, “thirty years ago you said?” She gulped as he nodded and decided she’d relax her mind a bit before she jumped to any conclusions. 

“Yes. But I doubt anyone made it to shore... must have been miles off the coast.” 

Y/N spent the rest of dinner just thinking, watching as everyone slowly began to make their way to sleep but Y/N sat up by the fire using the wifi they had to read up on the plane crash. It made sense, but... if there was a minimal chance for survival and it was a Royal family, they would have still looked their hardest. Something didn’t seem right about it but she’d get to the bottom of it. Her eyes began to hurt and she was about to get up and get into her cozy tent, but she heard a soft feet landing somewhere to the left of her and rustling leaves. She rushed to get something to defend herself, stepping closer to her tent to at least hide from whatever it was.

“Shh.” Harry whispered. Watching the camp often enough, he knew that this was her tent. He was warm from the air outside and of excitement to see his Y/N. “Did not... mean to scare.” He spoke slowly, softly. He gently took her hand and pulled her toward him, picking her up with little to no effort. He silently escaped the camp, smiling when she squealed when he hopped over fallen logs and weaved through trees, stopping at his camp. He gently put her down, kissing her cheeks. “My home.” He pointed up towards the treehouse. “Climb up? Please?” He had heard that and then looked it up in his dictionary, it was a request but nicer.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, a smile forming in her lips as she realized it was in fact Harry who had come to her camp. She wasn’t sure what was happening but before she knew it he had picked her up and began on his way into the jungle. “Harry!” She squealed, noticing how quick and bumpy the ride was because it was so dark already. “Where are we—”  She looked up at the tree, noticing he had some light coming from it. Wondered how he managed to get fire but she figured he had found plenty of resources, especially when her family came to camp. “Up this?” She furrowed her brows, looking at the vine curiously. It was rather dark, but she could still see him thanks to the moon. Y/N wasn’t all that strong, she didn’t think she could pull herself up on the vines enough to get to the bamboo ladder that was placed on the second landing of the tree. She was getting somewhere, but Harry had to step in to help of course. “Thank you.” She giggled as she finally got the hang of it and made it to the top. 

It was bigger than it looked from the ground. “Wow.” She smiled, looking around and seeing that the source of light were lamps that she recognized from her family’s camp. Fire in a tree would be dangerous, so he of course found the solar power ones. It was smart on his part. A warm yellow glow filled the room, illuminating the rather large bed he had and of course his little makeshift desk that had plenty of items she recognized on it. Even some books.

“It’s very lovely.”

Harry had set up his bed for them to lay down and talk. He had been practicing speaking all day when she had gone back to the camp to eat and relax. 

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Practice talking. With... talking box.” He walked over to it and picked it up. “Learn from it.” He placed it back down and walked back over to her. His book had been of help too, and the lucky fact that he was insanely brilliant in his own head. “Missed seeing Y/N.” He said softly, feeling the sides of her face. “Don’t like leaving.” He almost had it. He didn’t like her leaving him. “Want to learn more. From Y/N.” He wanted to learn the words for the things they did and wanted to speak as easily as she did as well. Y/N was so brilliant and so smart. He was in shock at just how smart she was. Granted that wasn’t hard to do to him but, he was incredibly grateful that she was happy enough to hang around him. 

“Is that a radio?” Y/N furrowed her brows, smiling softly as she noticed what he had picked up. “Talking box... that’s cute.” She giggled, more so to herself than anything else really. “I think it’s really great that you practice... you’re getting better every time I see you.” Y/N cooed up at him, she was careful with not touching him affectionately because she was so worried he’d get even more attached. Clearly that wasn’t working though. “You missed me?” Y/N questioned, leaning into his touch involuntarily. He really was lonely. “Don’t like me leaving, you mean?” She asked again, just wanting to clarify and maybe teach him to word things better. His pronunciation was coming out very British, she assumed because of the radio. 

“Mum, Dad. Built home.” Harry motioned around. “Evil killed.” His face dropped when he pointed to the jaguar skin he put on the floor after replacing the bottom of his bed with the better blankets for her. “I killed too.”

“You killed the jaguar? By yourself?” Y/N’s eyes were wide, she couldn’t believe he had that much strength. To fight off and kill a wild animal? That would mean Harry had ridiculous amounts of survival skills. Mankind really were on the top of the food chain. “Do you have any scars?” She asked, curiously picking up his arms to look over them and letting her hands run over his chest to see if there were any bumps.

“Yes. Only me.” Harry nodded pointing to the skins. He hadn’t had anyone out here besides the gorillas but he had learned to fend for himself very well. “Scars?” He watched as she brushed past the mark he got when he had accidentally cut his hand on the knife when making a new fire stick. “Oh. Yes.” He had them all over. His arms and hands the most but some on his back. “I... am trying.” He was hesitant because he wanted to speak right. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Y/N. It was a feeling he hadn't ever felt before. “Happy you are here.” He said again cohesively which was a pretty good thing for him. “Want to talk. Try.” He motioned to the bed. Harry just wanted to be around her. Y/N was a source of comfort for him.

“Wow.” She spoke genuinely, looking at his expression and seeing that he was waiting for a reaction from her or a response rather. “You’re very strong.” Y/N complimented, giving him a smile as her hands went up to squeeze at his biceps. Though he killed a beast with his bare hands you’d never guess by the way he treated her, so soft and gentle. “But don’t be embarrassed.” She pouted, noticing how he had started to coil back up into himself after struggling to find words. “If you need me to slow down when I speak or explain, that’s okay..” Y/N smile and let herself pet his hair gently, pushing it back behind his ear. Y/N moved to sit down on the bed, surprised at how soft and comfortable it was. He had blankets that looked pretty fresh, giggling because he definitely stole these from her camp and she had been looking for them. She didn’t mind though, he needed them more than she did. “I’m happy to be here... take your time. You’re doing great, monkey.”

“Monkey?” Harry tilted his head In question. “Not monkey. Human.” He pointed at himself. He knew that much. That’s what the books had said and what the people at the camp had called themselves. At least that’s what he had thought. “Soft? Good for Y/N?” Harry did worry if Y/N would like where he rested, but she seemed to like it quite a bit when she folded her legs up and watched him walk around. She was beautiful. Sitting there in his sleeping quarters, he was beyond amazed at how perfect she seemed. Sitting there with big eyes looking up at him. “Missed you. Wanted... wanted to learn more. So, I listen to the talking box. Read. So we can talk.” Harry pieced together the sentence better than he had before. “Do not talk much.” Usually he wasn’t with company. “Alone, most of time.”

“Yes, you are a human.” Y/N giggled, “but I call you monkey, because it’s cute.” She explained and realized the concept of pet names was one that was probably hard to understand. “See, when you like someone and think they’re attractive or just care about them, we refer to each other by names that are soft and sweet...” Y/N hoped it made sense, “like... baby or sweetheart or angel... monkey.” Once comfortable on the bed she nodded, “Yes, it's good. Softer than I thought.” Y/N cooed and patted beside herself so that he could come and sit with her. It was really cute how he tried really hard to speak with her and listened to the radio to try and pick up on words. He really did seem to like her and it warmed her heart. “The talking box..” She said softly, looking over to see he had a solar powered radio. “This is called a Radio.” Y/N told him, “you listen to the radio and practice?” She smiled fondly and felt her heart get all warm and fuzzy. “You’re doing very well, harry.” She told him, pushing a few pieces of hair away from his face so she could see his eyes better. “I’m sorry you get lonely... wish I could spend more time with you.”

Harry liked the touch. She felt warm and soft and her touches made him want to hide himself in her neck and stay there for a while. Still, he felt a little unsure while he got to know her. Y/N was new. Someone he wanted, yes. But new. 

“Ray—dee oh?” He scrunched his nose. He liked talking box better but, if that’s what it was called. Fine. Y/N knew best didn’t she? Either way, he would call it banana if it pleases her. He wanted to do more of that kiss stuff. That had pleasured him greatly. “Want to do good.” He admitted softly. His hair had grown out so it was in his face but she liked it back, it appeared. Harry liked seeing her clearly like that. “Fun, today. Did not want you to go.” He frowned slightly. Y/N had to leave and he knew that she had to go to her people but Harry wanted more time. “Kiss is fun.”

Y/N nodded her head at how well he pronounced it, “Yes, radio. Very good.” Y/N praised him and let out a chuckle. “If you want to call it a talking box that’s okay too, I understand.” She told him, just wanting him to be comfortable around her. Y/N understood that he wasn’t always going to be able to learn new words, he was trying his best. “You do well Harry, you really do. I’m very happy that you’re learning. I want to help.” Y/N told him genuinely, wanting to bring him back some more basic picture books to work with so that he could learn what things were. Associate the visual with the word. Y/N was surprised when he brought up the kissing, seeing that it must have stuck with him since he was so keen on knowing what it was and how to ask for it. “Kissing is fun.” Y/N smiled, nodding her head. “Is that why you wanted me to come here then? You want to kiss me more?” She asked, knowing that a guy from back home wouldn’t get away with it if he admitted it, but Harry would. He didn’t have any negative intentions, he just liked spending time with her and experiencing this new sensation. It was endearing really, how much he liked her and wanted to spend time with her.

“Yes but— not only why.” Harry didn’t just want to kiss her. He did want to do a lot of it but he liked being around her a lot. “Y/N feels... nice?” He wasn’t sure if he was articulating the right thing or saying what he meant but it seemed like he may be. “Warm, soft.” He placed his hand on her face and stroked. “Belly feels nice.” He furrowed his brow. Y/N seemed to get it though her face turned a soft pink. He felt happy and aroused near her and wanted to continue his touches and loving on her. “Talk... tell stories?” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek like he had before at the waterfall. “And kiss. It is nice.”

Y/N felt butterflies erupted in her own stomach at his words. Harry didn’t know much about human interaction and yet he was describing what the beginning stages of a relationship were like with no effort whatsoever. Her cheeks felt hot, her heart fluttering as his hand came to stroke over her cheek. 

“We can do whatever you want to do, yeah?” She cooed, feeling all giddy because she did very much have a crush on him. She was extremely endeared, “lay down.” Y/N spoke softly, laying down and pulling the blanket over her body comfortably. She made some space for him, immediately cuddling into him once he was cozy beside her. “Tell me about you... what do you remember about being here? How did you get here? How did you survive?” Y/N asked curiously, gently tracing over the skin on his chest and stomach. She wanted to know more, all the details.

“Well....” Harry sighed, feeling the fingers on his body making him relax. “Small. Was very small... went on holiday.” He remembered that word clearly. It was such a vivid memory. “On boat, when it rained. Lots of rain— waves are huge.” He swallowed thickly. “Swallowed up. Woke up here. Mum and Dad... built this home. Was small, but dad helped me learn.” Luckily his father had been Royal and military trained so he had been lucky to have packed all the supplies and necessities for at least a few weeks. “Dad knew lots. Knew... how to kill meat.” He had taught Harry. Knowing it had to have been a set up from enemy forces, he knew that they’d be stuck a while. “Mum showed how to... make coverings.” He showed his fur covers. “Took leftover coverings from camp later.” That’s what she had called it but, he took pants from there when it got cold. More like boxers but he didn’t know better. “Hard at first. But... hard to remember.” As he spoke it got easier to piece things together. His voice was raspy and dark. “That evil... killed mum and dad. I hid.” He said sadly. “I killed later.”

Y/N listened, trying to piece together the story and follow along though it was difficult at times. She got that his family was going somewhere and maybe there was a storm? They set up camp here, which was very smart and well, Harry did say his father was really good at that. Y/N was happy that he had a mother and father growing up, even if it was just for a little while. He probably had no concept of age, but he seemed to remember vividly. Must have been at least 10 if he still remembered this much, of course it was a traumatic event in his life, he certainly would forget a lot.

“I’m sorry you were alone for so long.” Y/N spoke softly, letting one of her hands play with his hair as they laid comfortably under the blanket. It was very warm, she could tell he was very good at survival and knew what he needed to do to have basic things. “It was a while ago, I’m sure...” Y/N let out a breath. “How did you kill the evil?” She asked, knowing that she couldn’t exactly refer to the jaguar as such because it would be disrespectful in a way. “How did you learn?” It was truly impressive how he managed to do all of this on his own, but maybe he learned to interact with other animals and adapt. “I’m surprised no one else found you before me.... you’ve been here all the time?” Y/N asked curiously.

“I hide. Good at keeping quiet.” Harry nodded. He was. Light on his feet, good at keeping himself camouflaged. “Learned from watching people. They kill small things— sharp sticks.” He pointed to the corner with the sticks he attached carved stone heads to. “Fought me— gave these marks.” He showed the claw mark on his chest, right over his pec that was fully healed. “But worth it. It is gone, can not hurt anyone.” He knew there were other of them— but they kept to themselves. Didn’t bother Harry or his family here. “My family— you watch.” He murmured. “Touch the books with sticks.” He meant writing. He couldn’t write. He could read, but writing was lost on him now, his brain had gone into survival mode even if he was quite brilliant. “I watched you. Beautiful... made me want to know. Let you see me.” She wouldn’t have seen him if he hadn’t let her.

“Your family?” Y/N furrowed her brows and then she realized. “The gorillas!” She gasped in surprise, her eyes full of wonder. “Oh that’s lovely.” Y/N smiled to herself, knowing that gorillas formed bonds with humans rather quickly if in the correct environment. Y/N had a few gorillas back home at the sanctuary that she was really close with, since she was little really. Gorillas were very caring and gentle to young ones, so it made sense that they had taken Harry under their wing. “Yes we watch them and take notes to make sure they are okay and healthy. We want to make sure they aren’t in any danger. Other humans they... they aren’t as nice.” Y/N explained though she was sure that he knew all about that. “We have gorillas where I’m from too that we saved from scary places. They are my friends.” She smiled up at him. To think he had watched her and she didn’t even know. He thought she was beautiful and wanted her to notice him. It made her heart go soft. “You did?” Y/N  blushed, letting her hand go up to cup his cheek. “You’re so cute.” She told him, looking at him so fondly, he had no idea how wholesome and pure he was. She wanted to protect him for as long as she could.

“You? Friends with... like my family?” Harry raised his brow. They were more the same than he had thought. Y/N liked his family! That was so nice. He had been worried. Some people were scared of them, that he had heard of. There was no reason to fear unless you were harming. 

“I thought Y/N is very pretty. Wanted to see closer.” He didn’t feel shame in admitting that. “Never seen anyone like you.” She was gorgeous. “Make me feel funny. Good.” Weird in a good way. His stomach would get hot and he wanted to be close and to touch her often. “Saw first night. Lots of noise so, went to see. Then you were there.” He smiled. “Always men. Never people like you.”

Y/N nodded her head, “Yes! Creatures like your family, I’m friends with back home.” She explained it in terms he would understand. “I’m not sure if your family would like me... we would have to be careful. Because people at the camp don’t know that I know you.” Y/N wanted to do her best to protect Harry, he was a very vulnerable person and she didn’t want to risk anyone taking advantage of him. “Thank you... you make me feel like that too.” Y/N admitted to him, felt like it was okay to let him know that he made her feel all soft and giddy as well. She had a lot of care for him already, that was for sure. “My father, he comes every year with his team... I asked if I could come this year.” Y/N explained, “He doesn’t really think women are safe in the jungle, but I’m here to prove him wrong.” Y/N wondered if Harry found her so attractive because he had never seen another woman before in his life or if he genuinely was attracted to her, she wasn’t sure, but she was flattered. “There are lots of people like me where we are from... lots of men and women... and children.” Y/N explained softly, she wished she could show him her world.

“Lots?” He was curious. Harry loved his jungle. So much. But he was often curious... what the outside world had to offer. He knew there were more people but he didn’t know how many. “You are the best.” He knew that much. Y/N was the best person. He didn’t have to meet anyone else to know. “It is dangerous. But... I will keep safe.” He would watch her from his hidden trees. Y/N wasn’t going to be hurt on his watch. If it meant he had to follow her around then he would. He decided he wanted to kiss her a little— so he adjusted them so he could kiss her neck. It was something he had known she had liked a lot beforehand so he was excited to give her what she liked in that sense. “Teach more? What Y/N likes.”

“Lots.... all different kinds of people. Different sizes and colors, the world is a beautiful place. So much to learn, so much food to eat, places to explore.” Y/N really loved the world, exploring, and traveling. “I wish I could show you...” She spoke out loud, realizing that might have been a thought she should have kept to herself. Y/N wasn’t exactly sure if she could or if he would be willing to go with her to do so. “Oh, I’m not the best...” Y/N shook her head, “thank you though, I’m glad you think so.” She hummed as he shifted their bodies so he was properly kissing on her neck. Goosebumps covered her skin, her body melting against his and suddenly she wished that she too was as naked as Harry was. She enjoyed feeling his skin this morning. “Teach you more?” Y/N asked, letting out a shaky breath. “What do you mean?” She could tell that he probably meant I’m this sexual type of way, but she wanted to be sure. The last thing Y/N wanted to do was push him into doing things he didn’t want to do.

“More. Anything.” Harry murmured against her skin. He wasn’t one to push back from learning, especially not when it meant he could make this beautiful example of a woman feel good. “Want to make you... feel good. Like at waterfall.” Harry knew she had felt good like he did. “Want to learn to make you feel like we did.” He knew she had rubbed against him. That she had seemed to enjoy it and he wanted to do more of it. To make her make the pretty noises. “Off?” He wanted the top off. It was a smaller covering, smoother, but he wanted to see her chest again. Wanted to touch. “Can touch more?”

Y/N felt her eyes flutter shut at the realization that he did in fact mean he wanted to learn more sexually. He wanted to make her feel good. She truly had never heard those words come from a man before and she wondered if maybe this was what primal men were like. They genuinely wanted to care for their partners and please them. Oh how times have changed.  

“Okay, yes... we can do that.” She breathed, moving to take her top off so that he could have more access to her chest. Y/N decided she’d remove her pants as well, figuring that she might as well. “You can touch wherever.” She told him, “Whatever you want to do... I’ll help you if you need me to, but just... do what you feel.” She knew that his primal instincts would take over the way they did at the waterfall, knew what his curiosity would take over and leave her all breathy and whiny. Enough for him to realize that she was enjoying every bit of it.

Harry felt a whole lot. When it came to Y/N he wanted to worship her whole being in this bed, kiss every inch of her. So with her permission, he decided to explore. He kissed down her neck, moving so that she was underneath him. Her chest called to him, his body aching to touch them— so he did. Kissing between the valley, he licked the warm skin between them. The soft little whimper was a reward, so he continued to kiss over the swell of the breasts. Warm and soft, he was obsessed with the feeling of her. Of how she arched into his mouth. Placing his lips over the little bud, he kissed it. Seemingly, it was sensitive for her as she let out a gasp. He was learning— pausing to see if it was a good or bad gasp.

Y/N’s whole body began to tingle with each kiss Harry placed against his skin. Normally, she wasn’t so reactive but knowing that each and every kiss he placed he thought through made her that much more responsive. It was the intention behind it all that was getting her all hot. 

“H-harry...” Her breath hitched when he kissed at her nipple, meeting his eyes only to be met with a curious look. He was so smart, taking her cues incredibly well but it was natural instinct. “Do that again... use your tongue, lick it.” She spoke softly, giving him a suggestion because surely he would want to know about that. Her mind was already gone, thinking about what on earth she was going to do when he reached her pussy. Y/N has a feeling that it wouldn’t be able to control herself, she would leak all over and make a mess and he wouldn’t even have to try all that hard. His genuine curiosity and desire to make her feel good was what was getting her going. She would show him that she too could pleasure him... maybe eventually show him they could do it together. But the apes did that didn’t they? Harry would know.

Harry took the direction, licking over it slowly. Her hand held his hair and showed him that yes— she did quite like it. It was exciting to him too, his body warming up quite a bit as he got into the groove. It felt instinctual. Like his body  was the one who just knew exactly what to do and when to do it. He loved it. So he didn’t hesitate when gently sucking one of the buds into his mouth. Perfect. She pulled his head closer, so he suckled a bit harder. Moving a hand to the other side, he stroked over her naked side, watching her body warm up to him and open up. Y/N liked his mouth on her, he was learning. Pulling off, he didn’t mind the string of spit left as he moved to go to the other side. She deserved all the pleasure he could give her and it seemed like she was hoping for more.

Y/N felt her cunt begin to throb. He didn’t need much direction and the very sight of him was doing her in. Harry seemed focused and intrigued, like he wanted to make sure each bit of her got the most attention that it could possibly get. She moaned out in pleasure, her hand naturally moving his head closer to her because she really did just want more of him and his mouth all over her body. She couldn’t exactly explain that either. 

“That’s nice...” Y/N breathed out, her body naturally pushing up against his because she loved the feeling of his skin against hers. “More... please.” She whimpered, getting a bit too worked up now because the energy in this building up between them. It was unspoken, but the look in his eyes and the way his mouth and hands worked on her unlocked a whole new feeling she had never felt before.

Harry nodded, moving his fingers down her body. Kissing down, down, down her stomach. Each of her hips. It seemed that the further down he got, the more excited she was, hips twitching up and her hands leading him further. He settled between her legs, opening up her thighs. A delicious smell was coming from her, and he bathed in it while he kissed the warmest parts of her inner thighs. Between her legs was no member like his own. Rather a smaller opening, a little mound that he was enamored by. He watched her face for confirmation, and she looked almost eager to get him there— so he began to kiss over the softness right above the mound. 

“Here?” He asked quietly, running his fingers over the fold. Hm. Wet.

Y/N was incredibly aroused and from the look he gave her, he could tell. Her whimpers were a dead give away as well but the kiss to the top of her mound made her shudder. He didn’t realize how much he was actually teasing her, pussy throbbed as his fingers ran over the folds. 

“Mhm..” She hummed, moving her hand down to guide his momentarily. “Right— here...” Y/N’s breath shook as she moved his fingers over her clit. “That spot feels very good..” She explained to him knowing that he too had a spot on his cock that made him quiver in the same way. He looked like he knew what she meant. She would move on to showing him what his fingers could do as well, but for now she knew he’d have a lot of fun licking her up. Maybe he would get curious and stick his fingers in on his own? Hell, he would surely want to stick his cock in the second he found out about it.

Harry wanted to make her feel the best he possibly could. But it was amazing to see how Y/N was opening up to him and spreading her legs, inviting him to kiss her down there. When he looked up she just gave him the heated eyes and he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed over the sensitive spot she had pointed out, wetting his lips with her. But after licking them clean, he was hooked. His eyes darkened, a low groan leaning his throat as he got a taste. Settling between her thighs, he laid his tongue flat and licked up the length of the folds, feeling her shake a little bit at the attention he was giving her. But it tasted so good. That was all it took, really. Harry hadn’t been taught manners or anything of that sort. So he didn’t hesitate to spread her thighs open farther, more aggressive, and lick harder and deeper between her cunt. He was trying to get every drop of the sweet taste on his tongue. It was apparent Y/N liked it, her hands gripping his hair and tilting her hips towards his mouth, he was finding that she loved when he licked a bit harder. His tongue finding that little bump she showed him, that had her going crazy, flicking his tongue over it. He didn’t care if his face was messy— he was enjoying this.

“H-harry!” Y/N moaned, her back arching up while her hips tried to both push in and away from him at the same time. The look in Harry’s eyes was needy and barbaric. Before she could even blink he was diving in full force, licking into her wetness like it was the last meal he would ever eat. She didn’t direct him to do that, he simply just did it. Y/N swore Harry was better at eating pussy than any man she had ever met. So quick to pick up on the fact that her clit was the spot that made her moan the loudest and frankly, he was merciless. She could cry at the intensity of the pleasure, he didn’t know how sensitive the bud was, but she didn’t want him to stop. No, she was fully prepared for the eruption that was building within her. Thank goodness she was far enough from the camp because she felt she was moaning so loud the whole jungle would hear her. Maybe she wanted everyone to know she was being pleasured by the king of the jungle. He seemed to react well to her sounds too, could tell his cock was hard just from the way he grunted against her.

Harry never felt like this before. He felt so.... needy. Out of his mind with the need to pleasure his woman. Yeah, that was a thing, too. He was considering Y/N to be his. This was his property. His territory. He pulled her up and into his mouth, suckling on the sensitive little nub that had her moaning and tugging hard at his hair. He wasn’t sure what the end result he wanted was, he just knew that he wanted her to make the same noises and to shake like she had beforehand. When she tried to pull away, a flash of territorial possessiveness went through him as he pulled her back, muttering a growly “Mine” at her, sucking harder at the folds to bring the point home.

Y/N had only ever squirted once before. 

She was masturbating for hours, decided that no matter how much it hurt or felt like she was going to pee, she’d keep going. It definitely worked, a small patch on her bed had been covered with clear liquid and she couldn’t believe she’d managed to do it. 

With the way Harry was sucking on her clit so harshly, she wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t squirt all over his face. She wanted to at least warn him, but anytime she tried to pull away he only pulled her closer. mine. He said she was his. Y/N let out a long moan at that, panting at this point because she knew she couldn’t hold back much longer. Her body was twitching, hips moving to try and get away but his hands firmly kept her in place and refused to move. “I’m—” Y/N’s words got stuck in her throat, she physically could speak, she couldn’t get the words out. Her body simply reacted to his actions, cunt gushing out warm clear liquid all over his face and tongue without warning. The scream of pleasure came afterwards, she felt herself breathing heavily as he continued to lick her up. She was still sensitive, still letting out whimpers but he didn’t stop licking. Her body was fragile and shaking, but it felt so good.

Harry knew something good had happened. She had released on his face— and he loved it. A satisfied groan was let out as he cleaned her up, feeling like that’s what he was supposed to do. She throbbed against his tongue, and twitched slightly with what he thought to be a bit too much sensitivity— so he pulled back and licked around the outer part, cleaning whatever he could. 

“Good.” He purred, pulling up to pressing his mouth to hers. His cock rested against the delicious mound he had just devoured, a bit of relief given when he rubbed against it— but he was focused on kissing her. Y/N didn’t seem to mind at all, legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her deeper than he had before. Feeling a bit more liberated, he was thriving in this new environment.

Y/N happily kissed him back though she was out of breath, letting out a moan against his lips. She was so satisfied, just as she had been that same morning. Harry seemed to pick up quickly on his primal instincts and it made sex so much better. He has no societal constructs stopping him from getting down and properly dirty, he was just ready and willing and it turned her on way more than she thought it would. She could feel his hard cock on her and she was reminded that he had yet to feel pleasure like she had. He had never fucked a woman, but she had a feeling he’d be incredible at it. 

“Harry..” Y/N cooed against his lips, “can I show you something?” She asked with a small hum. Her hand moved down to collect some of her wetness, wrapping her hand around his cock and jerking it slightly before looking up at him. She kept eye contact with him, slipping him inside of her with a moan of her own that spilled out. 

This was nothing like Harry had ever experienced before. She had placed him inside of her. And it was.... indescribable. Wet, warm, the tightest thing he had ever felt, and clenching around him. Squeezing. He was in shock. His mouth hung open as she hummed. However, he waited for no instructions, moving his hips forward as if he had done this all before. He slipped deeper inside of her and it had the both of them groaning. Her hands held his shoulders and nails gripped his skin but the bite felt so good. So he repeated it, thrusts getting faster by the minute. Pulling out a bit more and thrusting harder. It was sending white hot pleasure all over his body as he began to steadily fuck into her, grunting as he did so. This was his. Everything about this was instinct, which took over almost immediately as he began to go harder. Y/N was a mess underneath him, moaning and whimpering as he got deeper into her. Legs around his waist and the wetness audible with every time he pushed in, it was something he was obsessed with. This felt so real. 

“Holy fuck— Harry!” Y/N let out a throaty moan. She didn’t know how else to describe it other than she felt like this is what she was meant to do. It was as if Harry fucking into her was her destiny and he truly was rocking her world. She was slick around him and she began clenching at the perfect time so he could get the optimum experience. That’s what he deserved after all. The poor man had been jerking off for god knows how long and he deserved a proper pussy to fuck, one that could take his big cock and milk him completely of his cum whenever he wanted. The faces and sounds coming from him were incredibly arousing and she could hear just how raw the desire was. Y/N had come to find out she loved the primal element of it all. He just fucked into her hard because he wanted to, driving his cock deep into her with such urgency to a point where she could feel him in her stomach. She kissed at his neck, biting down a bit because she remembered just how much he had liked it and made sure to give him one of those high pitched sexy moans that seemed to get him the most riled up. When she bit down on his neck and gave him that moan, that’s when Harry seemed to lose himself in it. 

Properly pounding her out, Y/N wouldn’t shut up in terms of moaning and Harry's body was slamming into hers. He was thriving off of it, growling loudly into her neck as he found that he did indeed belong inside of her. This was what he was meant to do, wasn’t it! It was to be in her, fucking her deep and thoroughly. 

“Mine.” He growled again, taking hold of her hair and yanking it back in the heat of the moment, biting gently on her jaw. Not harsh enough to leave a mark but enough to sting. He continued the love nips to her neck, sucking right behind her ear because it had gotten the highest moan from her. His hips were moving fast and hard and she was clawing up his back but it felt incredible. Y/N was his. “Mine. Belong to me.” He hissed again into her skin. She had to know that. Pulling back, he pressed his face to hers. “Say it.” He wanted to hear it from her mouth.

Y/N couldn’t keep quiet, she felt embarrassed almost at how much noise she was making. She’d never been that fucking loud before but Harry was really bringing it out of her. They ranged from low and growly to high and strained, everything you could imagine really, she was producing. When he gripped her hair and growled at her she swore she could have nutted right then and there, seeing his eyes completely dark and full of lust. He was properly territorial and dominant over her and her pussy seemed endlessly wet. How the hell would she leave after this? She’d live in the jungle for the rest of her life if it meant pleasure like this.  

“Y-yours.” Y/N choked out, looking into his eyes, her own blown with desire and true submission. She really meant it when she said it, she was his. He was fucking her the way she was meant to be fucked, rough and needy. “I belong to you.”

That got a smile of approval from Harry. Yes. She knew that she was his and that much was amazing. Y/N would be his. How he would make her stay, or keep him— he didn’t know. Wasn’t thinking that far ahead. But he did know he wanted to be inside of her all the time. 

“Yes. good.” He purred against her mouth, feeling himself close to that ending point. That point where he would make a mess but he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of the wet warmth that surrounded him. It was the most amazing feeling he had ever felt in his life. “Yes. yes.” He hissed when she clenched around him, biting her bottom lip as he thrusted as deep as possible. Harry wanted to cum, but didn’t know what to call it. Harry growled again, not knowing what to say— but it didn’t seem to matter to her as she pulled up, legs wrapped around his waist and letting him get as deep as he wanted while he allowed himself to cum inside of her.

“Yes, cum for me...” Y/N moaned, feeling her own body begin to twitch. The coil that had built up in her stomach came undone all over again. With her own string of loud moans Y/N came around his cock, squeezing around him as a result. Penetrative sex took time to make her cum, but Harry so naturally was able to do it. She allowed him to cum inside of her, noting that she had brought her birth control pills and took them on time so she wouldn’t get pregnant. As weird as it sounded though, she was willing to risk it all for him in all honesty. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt bonded with him now and didn’t want to let him go. She’d find a way to bring him back, she had to. Y/N kissed all over his neck and shoulders, moving to kiss at his jaw and cheek and eventually lips when he turned his head to face her. Her hands moved to cup his cheeks, allowing the hair to stay back as she watched his eyes with a smile on her face. This was bliss.

Harry didn’t know what that was. But he wanted it over and over and over again. He wanted all of it, he wanted to be inside of her every day if that was a thing. He didn’t know, but he was in heaven. He kissed her back over and over. 

“Beautiful... my Y/N.” He murmured against her lips. “Perfect.” Never has he known what perfection was but Y/N was as close to it as he had ever come to. The release had felt so good, he felt like he was floating in the best way. He didn’t want to leave her, so he used his strength to flip them. She was on top now, Harry pulling the blankets to cover them. 

Y/N squeaked a bit as he flipped them over, feeling extremely sensitive still from how intense it was. She needed time to recover evidently but Harry seemed so quick to want to do it again. He had just found out about the wonders of sex, she truly couldn’t deny him. Not when he was that good. 

“What was... that?” Harry asked softly. What was the incredible feeling? The act they’d just done? “Can do more? Later?”

“We just had sex.” Y/N said in a gentle tone, petting his hair to soothe him. “Feels good?” She asked with a small giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Sometimes, people call it fucking. But that’s naughty.” She told him, “but I think you like naughty.” 

Y/N would answer any questions he had, would teach him anything he wanted to know because she really just wanted to be able to converse with him like she would with anyone else. He was so interesting and probably had loads of stories and things to share he simply just didn’t know how to express it. 

What was she meant to do now?

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

A/N: soooo, what do we think? 👀 - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spanged Banner: Stab Me In The Front

Part 4- Captain Asshat

Intro: Steve's being an asshat...and Katie isn't standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return America’s Asshole...and there's trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: 

Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This was supposed to be a Kinks one shot, only my mind went somewhere else and I got carried away and here’s Part 4 of the Knives Out cross over.. Yeah...so now I have to write another one shot from the original prompt from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​. Oh well... Hope you enjoy, this is a long one...it’s also really loosely proof read so apologies for mistakes but this is SO HARD to do on my phone!!!

"Steve..." Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes "Why are we even having this debate?"

"Oh, it's a debate?" He folded his arms "Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me."

"Oh I'm listening." she glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk "You're just talking shit."

"I'm talking shit?" he fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils "The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?"

"Yes, because this is about the Charity." she looked at him "And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It's only right."

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch "Right?"

"Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Are you forgetting what he said to you?" Steve looked at her.

"No." she shook her head "I'm simply saying that I don't care."

"You don't care?" his mouth fell open "You don't care that he basically-"

"No, I don't." Katie cut him off firmly "And if I don't anymore then neither should you."

"Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?"

"Yes." Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him "Because believe it or not I don't actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don't bother coming."

"Fine, if that's the way you feel then maybe I won't."

"And you call me a brat!" Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office "You're so full of shit."

"I'm full of shit?" Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him "You're the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole...I mean, even Natasha thinks you're crazy."

"Natasha?" Katie frowned, "What's Natasha got to do with this?"

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie's face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

"You spoke to Natasha before me?"

"She asked me what was bothering me so I told her."

"Damnit Steve!" she shook her head "Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We're supposed to be married."

"Oh but it wasn't an issue when you told her before me about what Hydra did to you?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie's face slip. "Shit, Katie, I-"

"That was a low blow Steve." she swallowed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Fuck you." she looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren't even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

"S'up Cap?" he asked, looking at Steve "You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten."

"Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie." he replied heavily "Said something pretty shitty."

"Like what?" Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head "Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve."

"I'm well aware of that Sam." he sighed, "Fuck."

"Maybe you should swerve the Gala." Sam shrugged "Give her time to cool off. I can't see her forgiving you for that one so easily."

"Forgiving him for what?" Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

"Wow." she shook her head. "What the fuck, Rogers?"

"I know, I know." he said, holding his hands up.

"Thanks for dragging my name into it."

"It's me she's pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason..."

"I wasn't gonna say that." Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling "Ok, maybe I was."

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

"I suggest you go apologise." Natasha looked at him.

"And pray." Sam added "Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry."

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn't deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women's Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she'd overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn't have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she'd told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She'd red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve's head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

"Sweetheart," he began tentatively, sitting on the bed "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did."

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

"I was out of order."

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don't ignore me, please."

"I'm ignoring you because if I don't I'm gonna end up screaming at you." she replied simply "And I'm not letting you spoil tonight for me."

"Spoil tonight?" Steve frowned "That's not what I want."

"Well, you kinda already did in a fashion." she shrugged "Now if you don't mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala."

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his "You don't want me to come?"

"No." 

"Ok." he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Then I respect your wishes."

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve's face when she'd told him she didn't want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he'd looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn't even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn't that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her...well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she'd been upset, angry even...now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn't need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn't really mean. But he wasn't getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she'd told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn't be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but...damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so...

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

"You look stunning." he said, his head turning to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

"Thanks." she said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn't quite done up.

"Honey, your zip..." he said as he walked towards her.

"I know." she said, opening the door "I can't quite reach it..."

"Why didn't you just ask..." he sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

"I'll get Wanda or Nat to do it." she said simply.

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous.."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

"Look, I know I was out of order, but I've apologised. What else do you want me to say?" he asked, looking at her.

"Don't wait up." she said, her voice steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans  and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

"Harlan!" she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek "I'm so glad you could make it."

"The pleasure is all mine." he smiled back. "How are you Mrs Rogers?"

"Good, thank you." she nodded "It's been busy but definitely worth it."

"Well the predicted figures look good." he nodded "You've raised a lot of money."

"Yeah, it's gone better than I could have ever hoped." she agreed "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

"He came then." she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

"Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I've never heard of him donating money to a charity before." he mused

"Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole." she said, before she shook her head "Sorry, that was rude."

"No more than he deserves." Harlan sighed "The sad thing is, he's not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I've even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn't interested. Suppose you can't polish a turd."

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man's lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head "Now that's a quote for your next book."

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

"Mr Stark." Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

"Mr Thrombey, pleasure." he said, before he turned to Katie "Where's Spangles?"

"Busy." she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Wow, yeah, that stuff...it's...a pain..." Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

"Mr Drysdale." she looked at him "No tatty sweater?"

He gave a huff of a laugh "No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions."

"Good to know." she raised an eyebrow.

"So where's your guard dog?" he asked, looking around.

"If you mean Steve, he's otherwise engaged." she said, shrugging "No doubt he'll be along later."

"Well in that case can I get you a drink?"

"It's a free bar."

"Yes, but I can still get you one."

"I'm good thanks." she waved the half full flute in her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone."

"Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms." he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

"I doubt you're capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with."

"Never had any complaints." he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

"Well you can't be meeting with the right women." she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

"Everything ok?" she asked and Natasha nodded.

"Yup.I just got you a surprise." she smiled.

"A surprise?" Katie frowned.

"Seeing as its a special occasion." Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie's. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

"S'up Nova?" Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

"What are you doing here?" she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

"Couldn't miss your big event." he smiled "You look great. Where's Cap?"

"In the dog house." Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

"Don't wanna talk about it." she shook her head. "Now, come on, fill me in...how are the kids? Laura?"

She didn't miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this... this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

"Oh here he is." Sam grinned at him "You're a brave man, Cap."

"Shut up Sam." he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. "Should I check he's on the list?" he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

"I think Katie crossed him off." Sam teased.

"Hilarious." Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He'd had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

"Spangles." Tony greeted appearing at his side. "What's going on?"

"Ask your sister." he said, his voice stony. "I need a fucking drink."

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

"Hey Cap." Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

"Hey Clint, didn't know you were coming."

"No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova."

"Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?" Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

"You could say that." he shrugged, before he sighed "I said something before, that was out of order and now she's giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but..."

"But here you are." Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him "You're either dumb, got a death wish...or maybe both."

"Romanoff, just don't." he turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. "How long has Drysdale been here?"

"Who?" Cint frowned.

"The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit." he said, nodding towards him.

"About an hour.." Nat said, "I'm not sure."

"An hour too long." Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

"Are you seriously that bothered by him?" she turned to look at him. Steve didn't reply.

"Clearly." Clint said, "Who is he?"

"Harlan Thrombey's Grandson." Natasha explained "Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund."

"And you don't like him?"

"They had a little run in Boston..." Nat smirked. "And then at the Launch..."

"It wasn't a run in." Steve shook his head "He was absolutely vile to Katie..."

"And she's over it..." Natasha sighed

Steve didn't reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

"And once again I find myself the centre of attention." he grinned, and the room chuckled. "But tonight isn't about me, for once, yes I know, I know..."

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

"As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women's Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I'd like to hand you over to my little sister, who's been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours."

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and  Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

"Thanks Tone." she smiled, "That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once." a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they'd been doing and how they'd been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

"So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you." she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve's. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

"Drumroll please...."

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

"Shit." she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. "Sorry but...my God this is..." she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head "According to this, the donations, sales...we've raised over £14.5 million."

"Holy shit!" Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

"This is amazing, but this also isn't the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge" will continue to be donated..." she said, sniffing slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they've no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free."

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

"Oh come on sweetheart" he said gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

"I told you not to come."

"Honey, this was your big night.I didn't want you to do this alone."

"There's a marquee of people."

"You know what I mean." he said gently "I'm sorry, you know I am. Please don't let's fight now, I hate it."

"I don't want to do this here" she said, her tone soft "Not now Steve.”

"Ok." he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn't turn away, which he took as encouraging "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you." she smiled softly, "Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but..."

"Sure, come find me when you're done."

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn't recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

"She's one hell of a woman your wife."

"What do you want Drysdale?" he asked, turning to the man.

"Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment."

"Well don't" he glared at the man "And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself."

Ransom let out a snort "What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don't tempt me."

"We both know you're not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off." he leaned on the bar, looking around. "And then she'd have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks."

"What are you talking about?" Steve frowned.

"Oh dear, didn't you know?" Ransom smirked "Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies."

Steve's nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. "Are you shitting me?"

Ransom shook his head. "And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean."

"You smug, son of a bitch..." Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

"Cap." Sam spoke "Don't..."

"Yeah Cap..." Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam's hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man's face was infuriating him. "Make one more wise crack I swear to God..."

"I don't believe it."

Steve's head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

"Katie..."

"You just can't help it can you?" she shook her head. "And I thought you were genuinely sorry."

"To be fair..." Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

"I don't wanna hear it." she said, shaking her head. "I'm done..."

With that she turned and strode away.

"Oops. " Ransom said, simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

"Well played." Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she'd entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

"You came back then?" he said, his words slightly slurred.

"Where else would I go?" she snarked back.

"I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies." he said, necking the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

"Seriously, that's...that's what all that was about?" she shook her head "God you're an ass hat."

"An ass hat." he mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

"Yes, an ass hat." she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she'd ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

"Well I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." he shrugged.

"Oh fuck off Steve." she sighed, "I'm going to bed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

"What about?"

"Your present to Ransom?"

"Because I didn't think it was important, it was just a joke."

"Fucking hilarious."

"No, you know what is hilarious? This..." she said, gesturing to him, a little unsteadily "You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"I saw you." he said, "When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him..."

"Oh Jesus Christ Steve..." she groaned. "I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!"

"You were all over him"

"Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?" Katie asked, "Because if that's gonna make you happy, just to prove a point."

"Don't be fucking stupid."

"Well shut up then!" she yelled back. "Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don't want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me."

"The feeling is mutual doll."

"Good, glad we agree on something." she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor."

"I'm not done."

"And you can sleep on the sofa."

"Like fuck I am!"

"Fine, I'll sleep on the sofa then." she shrugged

"You're such a fucking brat."

"Me?" she laughed "I'm the brat? You've behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I'm so fucking pissed at you I can't even..."

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." he said, stepping into the room.

"Or what?" she spun round, "What you gonna do..."

"Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you're pushing me tonight." he said, his voice low.

"Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?" she leaned against the wall. "Do enlighten me."

"You know it's no wonder Ward cheated on you." he slurred, "If you were like this with him then..."

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn't a lot, she'd only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

"Katie..."

"You are the biggest fucking..." she spoke, her chest heaving, "Actually I don't even have a word to describe what you are right now."

"You hit me with a shoe." he said simply.

"Yeah, want me to do it again?" she asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

"Don't."  he said softly, shaking his head "Look, I'm..."

"Oh save it." she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve's hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he'd said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He'd been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

"Katie..." he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. "Honey I'm sorry."

"Piss off." she sniffled.

"Open the door baby, please."

"No..."

"Don't make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart..."

"Where did you learn to be so spiteful?" She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door "I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of those things..."

"But you did." she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes "Why?"

"I was angry, and..." he took a deep breath "I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off."

"I pissed you off?" she snorted "Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking Hyrda and now Ward...could you be any more nasty?"

"I know, I know..." he said, "Honey, I've no excuse. Please, open the door."

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. "Oh baby girl..." his voice cracked "I'm so sorry...I really am."

"How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?"

"I don't not really" he said, shaking his head. "I'm an ass hole, a jealous ass hole...I just, sometimes I can't believe..." he stopped, and shook his head "You know what, it doesn't matter. I was out of order."

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. "You can't believe what?"

"Honestly, it doesn't matter."

"For fucks sake, Steve!" she spluttered "Stop it!"

"I can't believe that you, well that you chose me you know?" he sighed, his hand running through his hair "I just..."

"You're a dick." she shook her head. "I married you, you ass hole."

"I know, and I wonder why sometimes."

"So you've been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?"

"No, well, partly..." he sighed "Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff...I just saw red."

She looked at him and shook her head "That is not an excuse."

"I know it isn't." he looked at her "I know."

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

"You're bleeding" 

"Well, you're a damned good shot" he shrugged. "And those heels are sharp."

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

"Honey it's..."

"Shut up" she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn't push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

"I think you’ll live" she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

"I really am sorry." he said again "I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don't know how to deal with it."

"By not being a cunt."

"Wow." he snorted "Did you just drop the c-bomb?"

"Justified." she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders "Damned it Steve!"

"I know, I know." he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but...I get over it, you know? Because you married me and...” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I'm just sorry I didn't get chance to appreciate it more."

"Well..." she took a deep breath. "I know I didn't let you help me into my dress...but you can help me out of it if you want?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face " Yeah?" he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth "Turn around."

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

"Like that?" his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

"Don't stop..." she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

"You're so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself  against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you." he whispered "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." she sighed, looking at him "But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk." "I know, and I'm sorry." he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. "I really am." "I know you are." she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. "I don't understand why you think I would even want anyone else." "Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can't take that little kid out of me." he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America." "I know Doll." he nodded "I know." With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you." she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting it does." he chuckled slightly kissing her head "I'm not that stupid" "Jury's out." she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn't long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn't deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he'd try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

"I love you so much doll." he whispered into her hair.

"Love you to Soldier..." she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They'd come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

[nightofthemeteor]

Modern AU/Mythology AU

(Also here on AO3)

They were children when they met. They had to have been children, for if they had met as adults, they would have known too much, and their meeting would have been very different.

It happened on an awful, stormy day in early spring, and it began with Hashirama huddled and miserable in a cave. Even at fourteen, Hashirama knew the mountain as well as he knew his own family – he wouldn’t have ventured out this far into the forest if there had been any chance of a storm like this. And yet, despite the season, there was a blizzard raging outside. It was a tengu wind, Hashirama knew; only a tengu wind could rise so suddenly and sting so badly. He was lucky he’d been able to take shelter in this cave, but now he was trapped without warm clothing or the tools to make a fire. Curled into a ball with his arms around his knees, Hashirama had no choice but to wait out the storm, and eventually shivered himself into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke, the cave was dark, and he was wonderfully, deliciously warm. Hashirama wondered for a moment if he’d frozen to death, and this was the moment before his new reincarnation. But, no – he could still feel the rocky floor of the cave where he’d gone to sleep digging uncomfortably into his legs. He was warm because he was wrapped in something, something soft…something that was moving, gently and rhythmically, as if it were breathing. Hashirama reached out a tentative hand and felt soft feathers beneath his fingertips.

His breath caught in his throat. The tengu – for that was what the creature curled around Hashirama had to be – shifted around him with a whisper of feathers. And then, in the darkness, Hashirama found himself staring into a single, glowing red eye.

Hashirama’s insides had turned to ice, but he still retained enough of his wits to remember to be polite. “Hello, Tengu-sama,” he whispered to the eye.

The eye blinked.

Feeling a little encouraged, Hashirama said, “Thank you for protecting me from your storm.”

This got an affronted shuffling of feathers; Hashirama backtracked. “Not your storm?” Another blink – acknowledgement, Hashirama imagined. “Ah, I see. You’re stuck in here, too.” The tengu didn’t react to that, which Hashirama took to mean he’d guessed right. Without thinking, he ran his fingers through the feathers under his hand and was surprised when the tengu leaned against him, like a cat asking for more scratches. “Well,” he said, “Thank you for keeping me company. At least we can wait out the storm together.”

The eye disappeared; the tengu shifted position again, tucking its head back under its wing, or so Hashirama imagined. Hashirama knew he should take this chance and run – tengu were dangerous and unpredictable, wild spirits of the mountains, and there was no telling what this one might do to him – but the blizzard was still howling outside, and at least in here it was warm. Seeing no better option, Hashirama leaned back against his new, feathery companion, closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again, the cave was lit with sunlight, and the tengu was gone.

---

Madara wasn’t exactly sure why he bothered to find the human again. He was already sliding dangerously in the direction of his father’s bad side – that blizzard had been a nasty reprimand, with Madara still too young to control his powers well enough to fight back. Now that his flight feathers had grown in, Madara had found he wasn’t terribly interested in the clan politics he was supposed to be learning. His father’s world was full of restrictions: don’t use any of your powers without permission; don’t question your elders; and, most importantly of all, don’t come into contact with humans. And that, perhaps, was why Madara let himself slide out of the shadows of the trees and into view of the young human.

The boy in front of him tensed, reaching instinctively for an arrow; Madara prepared himself to fight, but the human relaxed and lowered his bow. “Tengu-sama,” he said, and smiled.

Madara looked down at himself in confusion. “How did you know?” He’d appeared in human form – had he made a mistake somewhere? But no: his purple robe was a perfectly normal style for a human, and on his head was definitely spiky black hair, not feathers.

The human boy in front of him shrugged. “I don’t know – you just sort of…feel the same?”

“That’s weird,” Madara informed him.

To Madara’s surprise, the boy sighed deeply. “I knew it,” he said, utterly dejected. “I must really be a freak if even a spirit thinks I’m weird.”

“Wait – that’s not what I – ” Madara stuttered to a halt, realizing that the boy wasn’t distraught at all – he was laughing at him from under those bangs. “Hey, what do you mean ‘even a spirit’?!”

The human raised his head to reveal a smug, aggravating smile. “Are you really my age?” he asked cheerfully. “To think I was so scared of you!”

Madara drew on the shadows around him, forming the shape of massive, ever-shifting wings to tower over his back, and let his black human eyes flash red. “You should be afraid of me!” he hissed.

The human’s eyes widened in awe, but to Madara’s chagrin, he watched this show of power without the least sign of fear. “Wow!” he said to the writhing mass of shadow. “What’s your name? Mine’s Hashirama!”

Madara sighed, content for the moment to at least have impressed the human – Hashirama – and let himself shrink back to his still-unfamiliar human form. “You can call me Madara,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Madara,” said Hashirama, and dipped his head in a clumsy bow.

“Hmph.” Madara crossed his arms, trying not to show that he was pleased. “So, Hashirama, what are you doing this far into the forest?”

“Looking for mushrooms!” Hashirama replied, with more excitement than this answer really warranted. “I know I saw some good ones around here the other day.”

“You’re lucky you’re with a tengu, then. I know this forest better than any human.”

“Oh, is that so!”

As the two of them left to walk together through the forest, neither of them noticed the tiny seedlings that sprung to life in Hashirama’s footsteps.

---

When Hashirama was nineteen, a beautiful young woman with fiery red hair came to his town.

“She’s definitely interested in you,” he was informed by his little brother, Tobirama, with a healthy amount of disdain.

“Can you at least pretend to stay out of my business?” Hashirama snapped back, uncharacteristically annoyed. If he was honest with himself, he had mixed feelings about Tobirama’s analysis. If anyone had asked him half a year ago if he would like a gorgeous woman to mysteriously arrive out of nowhere and fall in love with him, he would have offered his right hand to make it happen – but although Hashirama had always been a bit of a romantic, lately his thoughts on that score had turned in a…different direction.

But that was only half of the problem. Though nobody else had seemed to notice, Hashirama had realized right away that there was something different about the woman calling herself Mito.

“You’re not entirely human, are you?” he asked her, the next time they were alone together. Hashirama had always been in favour of the direct approach.

She stopped in the action of brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, and carefully withdrew her hand, looking at him with sharp, bright eyes. “You’re perceptive,” she said. “I should have anticipated that.”

“I have some experience with shapeshifters,” Hashirama told her, a little ruefully. “But I don’t think I’ve met one like you…?” He made the end of his statement into a question, hoping she would answer.

“Can’t you guess?” she asked playfully. At Hashirama’s flat look, she said, “Come on. A girl can’t give up all her secrets that easily.”

“Are you actually like this?” Hashirama asked. “Or are you trying to seduce me?”

“Er…” for the first time, Mito actually looked a little awkward. “I’ll be honest: I was trying to seduce you.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve heard the stories. Humans are kind of hard to interact with unless you’re giving them something they want, right? I don’t take it personally.”

Mito laughed at that, the light catching in her bright red hair as she did. “You’re a very strange human, Hashirama!”

“I’ve heard that before,” Hashirama replied with amusement. More seriously, he added, “But I don’t understand why you would choose me to seduce. What do you want from me?”

“Like I said, Hashirama: I have to keep my secrets.” Mito looked at him appraisingly, her head cocked to one side. “Let’s just say you have some interesting qualities – for a human.”

“Fine – you don’t have to tell me. But can you drop the whole – ?” Hashirama waved his hands vaguely in her direction, too uncomfortable to actually articulate what he meant; she smirked at him in response. “Whatever you want, you can just ask me, alright? I mean – I’d like to be friends.”

“Alright,” she said, sounding surprised. “Friends it is.”

---

“Kitsune,” Madara spat.

The fox sat back on her haunches and began to unconcernedly wash one of her paws. “Tengu-san,” she replied.

Madara, roosted in the branches above her, hunched his wings threateningly. He was the power in the forests around here, and she could do with a reminder of that. “Stay away from the human boy, Kitsune. He’s mine – understand?”

“Relax, Tengu-san. He already called me on the trick.” She dipped her head at him in sarcastic deference. “He’s all yours for the seducing.”

Madara wasn’t buying it. “What do you want with him?”

The fox cocked her head to one side quizzically. “The same thing you want, I assume? He may be a human, but you must know he has the power of the forest inside him.”

He’d guessed it years ago, of course, but hearing another magical being acknowledge it like that made Madara’s stomach drop. “You feel drawn to him, don’t you?”

“Others will be drawn to him as well, as his power grows stronger. You did well to get in with him early, Tengu-san. Better act fast to lock him down.”

“Kitsune,” Madara called, as she turned to leave. His stomach was in knots now; asking her this would be showing unforgivable weakness, but he might never have another chance to have his suspicions confirmed. “What does it feel like when you’re with him?” he asked. “You said the power of the forest draws you to him. Does it make you feel breathless when he looks at you? Does it…” he swallowed hard. “Does it give you a hollow feeling when you say goodbye to him?”

The fox looked at him in silent surprise for a moment, and then barked out a laugh. “No, Tengu-san, it does not!” she said, laughter in her voice. “I feel a pull towards him, yes, but my heart is still my own. I believe you are in love with him.”

“Oh,” said Madara gruffly. “Er, thanks.”

When the kitsune had gone, he considered his course of action. In any other circumstance, Madara would have done his best to deny his feelings about Hashirama – he’d been managing that successfully for years now, and could probably have sustained it for quite some time. But this was different; now he had competition, and Madara’s nature couldn’t ignore that.

So what if the kitsune was trying to seduce his human? Madara could perform a seduction as well, and he had the advantage of knowledge, thanks to years of friendship with Hashirama. He could win this battle – all it would take was some careful planning and an artful execution.

---

“Where did you find this?” Hashirama exclaimed in delight.

Madara shrugged nonchalantly, his blue-black mane of hair shifting over his shoulders, but Hashirama could tell he was pleased with Hashirama’s reaction. “I told you: I know this forest better than anyone.”

By now, Hashirama knew this wasn’t quite true: he knew the mountain at least as well as his tengu friend, sometimes even better. Even so, Hashirama would be able to equal Madara’s skill at finding far-off treasures of the forest, for the simple reason that Madara could fly. Hashirama cradled the branch Madara had brought him in his hands, admiring the small white flowers with their elegant, delicate petals. “I’ll bet I can graft his onto one of my trees,” he said, already planning how he would do it.

“So…you like it?” Madara asked, a strange edge in his voice.

Hashirama beamed at him. “Of course I do! Thank you, Madara!”

His friend turned a very interesting shade of pink. “Great! Um…good, that’s good.”

Hashirama waited patiently for a further explanation – an account of how he’d stumbled across a wild apricot tree, maybe, or something that had prompted this gift – but when none was forthcoming, he prompted gently, “I didn’t know you were so interested in plants.”

“I am, uh, interested – that is to say, I was thinking…uh…” To Hashirama’s fascination, the tengu was flushing even further. Was this some strange consequence of his shapeshifting? Now a little concerned, Hashirama leaned forwards to get a better look.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Maybe he was overheating? Hashirama laid a hand against Madara’s forehead to check.

“Hgk,” said Madara.

“Hmm, you do feel a little warm,” Hashirama told him. “If you were human, I’d tell you to get some rest, but what about a spirit like you? I have to admit I don’t really know anything about – ”

And then he shut up, because Madara was kissing him. Later, Hashirama would remember how Madara’s hands on his shoulders were trembling a little, and how Madara’s hair felt almost exactly like his feathers had under Hashirama’s fingertips all those years ago. But in the moment, all he could think was why haven’t I done this before?

After just a brief moment, Madara pulled back, his eyes wide and startled. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that!” he blurted.

Hashirama blinked at him. “What?” was all he could manage to say.

“I’m sorry! I had it all planned out, and then I just…went and…”

He looked so distressed; Hashirama felt the only reasonable response was to reassure him by leaning forwards and kissing him again.

When they parted, Hashirama smiled at him, suddenly feeling shy. “I’m glad you did,” he said.

Madara looked about as thunderstruck as Hashirama felt, but at these words, a slow grin spread across his face. “You mean…you wanted me to do that?”

“Madara, I’ve wanted that for ages!”

“But,” Madara objected, “What about Mito?”

“Mito? Oh! I’m not interested in her like that.”

“Good,” said Madara huffily, “You know she’s only trying to seduce you for your powers, right?”

Up until now, Hashirama had been just barely staying afloat in the rapids of this conversation, but this last question threw him completely. Confused, he pulled a little away from Madara and repeated, “Powers?”

“Yes, the power of the forest! That…you…” Madara trailed off, seeing the expression on Hashirama’s face. “You…didn’t know?”

“No,” Hashirama whispered. He’d been about to deny the possibility that there was anything supernatural about him – he was an ordinary human, had been all his life – but the words evaporated on his tongue. He wasn’t really an ordinary human at all, was he? Sure, his life was ordinary enough, in general: he foraged and hunted in the forest; he tended his garden and grew fruit trees; he did his best to live in peace with the spirits of the mountain. He was just a bit unusually good at finding what he was looking for, at predicting the changing weather and coaxing things to grow. If that talent really did have a magical explanation, then the one truly unusual thing about his life suddenly made a lot of sense: his inexplicable friendship with a tengu.

“Is that why you showed yourself to me?” Hashirama asked, the thick certainty of it beginning to clog his throat. Why else would a tengu, a spirit born from a falling star, show any interest in a human like him?

“No!” Madara protested, vehement at first – but then he paused, considering. “Well – maybe at first, but I didn’t even know about your magic back then. And it has nothing to do with the way I feel about you now!”

These words were meant to reassure him, but instead, an even more horrible thought took root in Hashirama’s mind. If Hashirama had somehow influenced Madara before they’d even met, without either of them realizing it…was it possible he’d made Madara kiss him?

“I think you should go,” he said. Anger at Madara for keeping this secret from him was mixing with guilt at the thought of what he might have unwittingly done to his best friend, making him feel sick to his stomach.

“Hashirama – !”

“Go!” Hashirama shouted.

Madara disappeared in a burst of feathers, leaving Hashirama alone.

---

The wind was howling as fiercely as it had the day they had met, but this time, instead of snow, rain was falling in a deluge that soaked through Madara’s feathers in seconds. In his turmoil, he’d settled on neither bird nor human form, but something in between – he was walking on human legs, but catching the wind of the storm in feathered wings sprouting from his back, and his hands, when he looked at them, had birdlike talons on the end of each finger. He glared furiously at a tree in front of him; a bolt of lighting flashed, and the tree exploded, splinters of wood flying past him in the storm. Madara felt, for a moment, just the tiniest bit of satisfaction before fury and anguish overtook him once again.

Why had he let slip the truth about Hashirama’s powers? No – why hadn’t he told his friend about them sooner? Everything had been going perfectly – not exactly the way Madara had planned, but still, he’d kissed Hashirama! And Hashirama had said he was glad Madara had done it, and had kissed him back! How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? It was all his fault – Hashirama thought he’d lied to him; thought he was using him! Alright, Madara hadn’t told him about his abilities, but it wasn’t like he was trying to win him over just to take advantage of him; not like that kitsune. It wasn’t fair!

As if summoned by Madara’s angry thoughts, a voice reached his ears over the screaming of the wind: “You seem like you’re in quite the state.”

“Kitsune!” Madara bellowed, more than happy to direct his rage at a more tangible target. There was the fox, sitting placidly in a tree despite the fury of the storm around her. “This is your fault! You told me he’d called you on your trick!”

“I didn’t say he knew why I was trying to trick him. I’m afraid this is entirely your fault, Tengu-san. His death will be your fault as well, if you keep wandering around here blowing up trees.”

Madara blinked water from his eyes, fear momentarily taking the place of rage. “What do you mean, his death?”

“The boy doesn’t know the strength of his own powers – he doesn’t even know he’s causing this storm,” said Mito, with pity in her voice. “He’s out wandering around, looking for you on the mountain. I’m afraid – well, you already know what rain like this means.”

Horror seized Madara by the throat. Hashirama knew this mountain better than anyone, better even than him; he knew the danger of flash floods. But if he was really out in the forest looking for Madara – if he was beside himself enough to cause a storm like this, and not even realize it –

“Where is he?” Madara howled.

“Fly northeast,” said the fox, “And hurry.”

Madara launched himself into the air, not bothering to alter his form, knowing his own magic would carry him despite the winds. He fought his way through the storm, trying to feel the familiar tug of the power inside Hashirama calling to the power inside him – but now that he was looking for it, the feel of Hashirama’s magic was everywhere, seething around him. His friend was the one causing the storm, just as Mito had said. Just as Madara was beginning to despair of finding him amidst the frothing treetops, he spotted a familiar white and green robe in a clearing below and dove headfirst towards it.

He crashed into Hashirama at full force, sending both of them sprawling on the ground. Madara, clinging tight to his friend, somehow ended up with Hashirama beneath him, rain falling onto Hashirama’s face; Madara hunched his wings to shield both of them from the storm.

“Wow,” Hashirama breathed. “Look at you. I – I think you have fangs. Why do you have fangs?”

“Why are you out wandering around putting yourself in danger?” Madara shot back.

Hashirama put a hand up to Madara’s face. At his touch, Madara realized he had little feathers sprouting from the skin there as well. “I was looking for you! Mito said you were in danger from the storm I caused.”

“Mito said – she told me you were in danger!”

They stared at each other for a moment, Madara feeling the rain against his wings slow from a deluge to a trickle, until Hashirama suddenly burst out laughing. “I should’ve known,” sighed Madara, over Hashirama’s giggles. “Kitsune are born to play tricks.”

“Madara,” Hashirama said, growing serious again. “She also explained about my powers. I…thought I might have accidentally used them to trick you into liking me, but Mito called me an idiot and told me I don’t have that kind of ability. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”  

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Madara said earnestly. “I really thought you knew.”

“I guess I really am an idiot.”

“I guess so,” said Madara, and leaned down to kiss him. Because of this, neither of them noticed the sun emerge from behind the layers of cloud, or heard the bark of a fox’s laugh from the forest.

There is more to this story, of course, for such an unusual pair as them could hardly manage to lead an ordinary existence. But all the legends and stories they would later come to inhabit began like this: chance and a little bit of trickery, and spirit and human together in the stormy woods.

[virusdotsneeze]

C+ Supp (Sick fic/Snz fic)

Because I’m super original, I named this fic after the type of support that it would fall under in-game. Kinda like that other fic that I really liked. Thing is, there’s no such thing as a C+ support in this game. It’s just to sort of give a timeline on the two character’s relationship at that point. 

But uh, yeah. This is a sick fic/snz fic of Fi//re Em//blem: Awa//kening. Just a disclaimer: I’m not a rapper writer. So, I’m sure there’s gonna be some issues.

Oh uh, mess warning. I guess? There’s descriptions of the stuff :p

The Ylissian fields, mid-day, and as vast and green as one could have imagined. Tents had been spread throughout the field as the Ylissian army, the Shepherds, gathered together through different tents designated for different roles within the army. Outside the tents, near the outskirts of the encampment sat a young woman with white hair styled in two twin tails, that flowed over the shoulders of her heavy coat. She sat beneath a tree, reading books on magic to better hone her skills. Her skin appeared a bit paler than it usually was; dark rings beneath her eyes were visible, her nose red with irritation. She sniffled heavily and swiped at her nose continuously as she read her book, disallowing for any excess mucus emitting from her nose to get onto the pages that she was reading. The young woman wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. After noticing the dampness on her hand, she took a heavy sigh, stood up, and walked towards the wooded area outside of the encampment.

The young woman wandered off until she hit a river bank. Sniffling, she kneeled, pressed her thumb to her right nostril, and blew out. An excess amount of mucus began to pour out of her nostril, dripping onto the dirt below her as she made sure not to get it on her thick jacket that she had grown accustomed to wearing. Strings of mucus dangled from under her nose until they had completely gone loose and detached from the nostril. It had felt as if the mucus didn’t want to stop dripping from her nose. As it kept coming loose even without her blowing out, the mucus just kept pouring out onto the dirt beneath her. Once she was done, she did the same but with her left nostril, with the same results of constant drippage. After clearing both nostrils out, she attempted to breathe heavily from her nose but to no avail. Audible congestion was present in her nose even after the heavy draining that she had done.  She coughed into her fist and sighed heavily. 

It was another terrible head cold that she had contracted, from of course, sleeping on the ground. This was the second cold this month, and it was worse than prior. This was her fourth time in the last thirty minutes that she had escaped into the woods to discharge the mucus from her nostrils, hoping for relief from the hellish congestion she had contracted. She didn’t dare do this in front of the rest of the army. The embarrassment as well as the shame of doing it in front of a noble family would stick with her for the rest of her life.

“Damn this cold,” she thought “I wish it would be over with so I can stop wasting time here and actually focus on strategizing for our next route.”

The woman rubbed the palm of her hand against her nose to try to alleviate the tickle, but to no success. The tickle rose until it was let out to a small sneezing fit. “Hieh—tchoo! Etch-chu! Atch-choo!”

Mucus began to drip from her nostrils. She was just about to turn around to continue what she had been doing every ten minutes or so, until a voice had stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, Robin!”

The young woman turned to see who had called her name, her hand covering her nose as she did. A young man with blue hair, full of youth and power stepped up to her. 

“O-Oh. Chrom. I didn’t uhm… expect you.” Stammered the woman, named Robin.

“Well, I mean, I do like to keep a good eye on the rest of the Shepherds. And you are of no exception.” Replied the young man. It was apparent in his tone that he had wanted to discuss something.

Robin sniffled, rubbing the underneath of her nose with her finger, “W-well… What is it you need?”

“Hah. Don’t play dumb with me. I know how you’ve been recently. You’re about as sick as a dog!” replied Chrom, bluntly. 

Robin blushed a bit. She always did her best to avoid Chrom as much as possible while she was sick. She didn’t want the prince of Ylisse to catch a nasty head cold over a small, menial conversation, after all.

“Ehm… I mean, yes. B-but I can still strategize just as well if I wasn’t!” 

“I don’t doubt that. You’re brilliant. But I know even you need your rest. And, well, seeing you come out here into the woods to…ehm… relieve your nose isn’t really anything I would say I would want you to do. Do you not own a handkerchief for that sort of thing?” asked the young noble, scratching the back of his head. He was clearly having trouble wording things. 

“No. I don’t. But I really don’t mind doing this. It keeps the rest of the Shepherds at a minimum risk of ca-catch—cat’ch—choo!” replied Robin, being interrupted by a sudden sneeze, doing her best to cover it with her hand, “Urgh. Catching this cold.”

“I understand your intentions. And while good, I don’t really think it’s something you need to worry about. Honestly, the Shepherds would be more worried if the tactician of the army were so sick, they couldn’t think straight.” 

“Ah, excuse me. I can understand that. But I need to keep planning things out. I can handle a m-mih-measly c-…c---cold--! Etch’choo! Hetch’choo!!” sneezed Robin, turning away from Chrom in attempts to not infect him. Robin could feel the mucus sliding down her hand, beginning to drip on the ground beneath her, in front of the Prince of Ylisse at that. She could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Robin had put her hand to her nose to try mitigating as much spray from being released, only to result in her hand being coated in the excess mucus from her nose. She pulled away not knowing how much had gotten onto her hand. She put her hand back to her nose as soon as she saw the strands of mucus coming from her nose. Her blush grew to a deeper red.

Chrom’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as he frowned a little. He wasn’t dressed in his usual armored garb, but more of a buttoned-down attire. He reached into a back pocket of the pants he was wearing and pulled out a cloth handkerchief. He handed it to the suffering woman. 

“Here. I think you’re going to be needing this more than I do.” He told her.

Robin’s blush grew deeper than it already was. She hesitated in taking the handkerchief. She still wasn’t very used to speaking and acting so casually towards the noble family, even if Chrom didn’t act like a noble. 

“Th-thank you.” She stammered out, taking the white, cloth handkerchief. 

She put the handkerchief towards her nose and let out a harsh blow. A gurgling sound was emitted from both nostrils, mucus filling in through any crevasse and crease of the handkerchief. By the time she had finished, the once dry handkerchief was sodden and in need of a wash.

“Ergh. Excuse me. Ehm… do you want this back, or…?” asked Robin rather sheepishly, unsure what exactly to do with the given handkerchief. 

Chrom put his hand up in protest. “Keep it, it’s yours, ha ha.” He said with a smile.

“Are you sure? I’m sure it’s not one of a noble to not carry around a handkerchief, but—”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I’m sure if I was back at the castle, if I were to simply sneeze, there would be at least six different servants ready and lined up to give me a handkerchief to use. This is nothing, really. Plus, I’m sure Frederick has a separate stash for both me and my sister somewhere in camp.” He responded with a wink and a smile.

Robin let out a chuckle that was followed by a small coughing fit and sniffles. Chrom put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. 

“You’re a very important asset to the army, Robin. We need our tactician more than anything. So that means we need you to be at peak performance. I want you to go retire to your tent. Lay down. Rest. I’ll send someone to help treat you. Please, don’t over exert yourself. Understand?” asked Chrom, his tone a bit more stern, rather than casual.

Robin was at a loss of words. She didn’t really have any idea as to what to say. She broke eye contact with the young prince for a few seconds but then looked him dead in the eyes and replied.

“I will. I’ll do this for the army. Thank you, Chrom.”

[marvelsdarling]

Heal Him- Chapter 1

Chapter 1/?

Pairing: Loki x (female) reader

Summary: Both you and Jane work together to heal Thor and Loki’s numerous wounds

Warnings: mentions of blood

Word count: 2k

-

The wheels of your car swerved down the empty sea-side roads of Hawaii as the black jeep that Jane was driving followed closely in your tracks. The sun was now part-way in the sky and even your sunglasses didn’t help shade your eyes from the now sharp golden rays. By the time you turned onto your road on the North side of the island, Jane was tailgating you and by then you were already pushing the speed limit by quite a bit.

You pulled into your driveway and stopped your car haphazardly somewhere in the middle of your empty garage.  You could hear Jane screech to a stop before you even exited your vehicle, and she practically opened the door for you.

“He’s bleeding a lot y/n..I...I don’t know what to do.” She looked like she was going to cry, or had been crying on the way. You were still hesitant about helping her with this. You typically tried to stay away from her antics because it usually gets her into trouble with the government or some random alien race; you weren’t too interested in getting in trouble with either of those.

The two of you opened the back door to get a closer look at both the brothers. Thor was still awake but the bleeding had increased slightly. His face looked pale and his hands were shaky. Loki looked identical to how he was at the beach, which wasn’t good because you could see open gashes and a small knife in his side.

“Can you stand?” You asked the older one of the two brothers.

“Most likely,” he replied. He looked weak but stable enough to at least walk and with Jane’s help, she took him out of the car and walked him into your house.

You watched Thor walk into your house before turning back to Loki. Although you despised him, he needed medical attention more than Thor at the moment. You pulled Loki’s limp body out of the car carefully and lay him down onto the cool morning pavement. Your fingers pressed into the side of his neck. His pulse was weak but it was consistent at roughly 60 bpm which was healthy, but with gods, you couldn’t tell what was healthy. You cautiously checked his airway and respiratory rate and determined that he was simply unconscious due to blunt force, which could mean a nasty concussion; you would have the privilege of treating for the next few weeks.

You managed to pick him up awkwardly bridal style and drop him onto a couch in your living room next to Thor and Jane.

“Thor’s bleeding a lot, what should I-”

“Pressure on the cuts with the towels that are under the sink - the black ones - get him to drink water and sleep so his body can create new blood cells. He should be fine it was only a couple gashes,” you replied quickly, trying to figure out the extent of Loki’s injuries.

He was much worse. His torso was completely covered in slashes and cuts. The biggest problem was definitely a knife lodged just above his hip bone.

You could hear Jane rummaging around your kitchen, and you hoped that she found everything she needed quickly so you could deal with the two gods and get them out of your living room.

Loki looked pale and tired even in his unconsciousness, and by the time you had figured out how to unbuckle and cut apart Loki’s armour with a swiss army knife, Jane had returned with an armful of towels and a water bottle.

You helped her wet a couple towels and taught her how to disinfect any cuts that were on Thor’s body before turning back to the couch that Loki was laying on. You leaned over his limp body and noticed the numerous bruises that were appearing all over his torso and lower back, that would probably be painful in the morning.

You poked tentatively at Loki’s skin with a wet towel to clean up any blood that dried on his skin. You couldn’t deny that he had a toned body - not that you would ever say anything like that out loud. The gashes that had cut through his leather armour weren’t deep but they were numerous and the knife that was in his side wasn’t in too deep but certainly was there.

“Thank you, lady y/n,” you turned to Thor who was also shirtless and not bleeding profusely, but still wincing every time Jane cleaned a cut. You could see what Jane was talking about when she said he was made of muscle.

“It’s no problem,” you replied. Jane scoffed at that.

“You are helping me heal two gods in your house, the last time you helped me with something like this-”

“As long as no aliens attack me, it’s fine,” you cut her off. It was true, as long as nothing more happens everything will be fine.

“Aliens?” You looked back at the blonde and shook your head.

“Like you.” You replied

Promptly you stood up and walked over to the kitchen, somewhere in there you had a first aid kit. You dug through the pantry, the cabinet with the blender, food processor and finally the cabinet with the cutting boards, which actually did, in fact, have a first aid kit. You poured yourself a glass of water and walked out to the balcony for a moment. The hot air felt thick and heavy, which usually meant rain was coming. Your eyes scanned the property and looked out onto the ocean, having a beachfront property was rare here, but your parents were wealthy enough before their death that they built this as their dream home. All white and modern house, pool, beach front, 3-bedroom, it was nice. You never thought that it would be used to house gods but hey, at least it’s being used for something other than your late night solo concerts in front of the tv.

You finished your water and walked back to the living room, Jane had finished cleaning up Thor's gashes and had started to disinfect the knife in Loki’s side. You crouched by his side and pulled out some gauze from the first aid kit.

“You can take some butterfly stitches from the kit and put them on Thor then take him to the bedroom on the right side of the entrance to let him rest,” you told her. She nodded and did what you said, walking Thor out of the living room and down the hallway to the entrance.

Kneeling next to Loki you grabbed hold of the handle and swiftly pulled the knife out of his side, quickly applying pressure to the wound. His skin felt cold, but his breath was steady and he stopped bleeding quickly. You put a butterfly stitch and gauze over the wound and looked around to find something to cover his torso with, which conveniently at the moment was nothing. You used another wet towel and washed a few splotches of dried blood off his face, brushing the stray strands of hair away from his eyes. Subconsciously, you realized that when Loki wasn’t trying to take over your planet, he looked pretty calm and not so much like a psychopath.  

“Ahem?”

You turned around to see Jane standing in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” she smirked at you as she leaned against the frame. You rolled your eyes and stood up from your crouched position.

“No,” you paused for a minute. “What are you doing on Maui anyway?”

She let out a small chuckle. “We were on some planet but I asked Heimdall to bring us here to heal them, I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You asked who?”

“Don’t worry.”

You stayed quiet for a moment before Jane spoke up again.

“We don’t have any clothes here.” Her joking tone made you smile, knowing she would borrow some of your clothes within the hour, and that you would both go shopping sometime tomorrow. She hadn’t changed much, she was still sarcastic and firey -which got her into just as much trouble like the last time you saw her. You used to be close friends, and it was comforting you could joke around as if you still were, even if much had changed since then.

“I know. You have to help me get the greasy one to the other bedroom.”

You both awkwardly carried Loki to only other bedroom that was available. It was identical to the one Thor was in; big enough, large window and a king size bed. The walls were grey and decorated with pictures of the beach, and sunlight poured into the room from the French style windows you had begged your parents to put it because they’re gorgeous.  You dropped his body onto the bed, pulling the blankets over his chest and checking to make sure that he was still breathing before going to get him water and an ice pack.

You could see in the distance a few dark rain clouds. They blanketed the horizon and covered what would have been the sunset in a few hours. You guessed that you lost track of time while trying to keep any gashes on the two brothers from getting infected. All the while you heard a few muffled sort of groans from Loki’s room and winced at them. Even if you hated the guy, no one deserved to be in pain.

When you came back to his room, you could tell he was half awake and his body was realizing the extent of his injuries, and in a lot of pain from what you could see. You carefully placed the ice pack you grabbed from your freezer onto his sweat covered forehead and tried to sneak out without a sound when he cut you off.

His voice was weak and scratchy but he still sounded threatening to you, “Who are you?”

He sounded different from before. More mature for sure, calmer. He wasn’t as demanding and angry, but then again he was kind of in your care at the moment. You smiled to yourself. It wasn’t often you felt self-confidence. You weren’t some goddess from space or a super soldier. You didn’t have powers and still, you chose to do the right thing even for someone who was bad, at least in their past. You chose to be the bigger person in this situation.

Softly you placed the pile of things from your arms onto the dresser by the door and turned back to Loki who looked frightened and hurting. His eyes were open wide, but he grimaced as the relentless pounding in his head continued to blind him.

“I’m y/n, and you should get some rest.”

You walked over the window and pulled it shut quietly, drawing up the blinds to stop any light from coming through. He hummed in appreciation to the darkened room.

You took a wet face cloth from your pile of things and walked over to his side with the intention of cleaning off his face one more time. You reached down to touch his face but he grabbed your arm in his hand, wincing at the pain in his side from the knife wound you had patched up.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He asked harshly.

“Helping you, now hold still. You’ll feel better,” you said shortly, reaching again to touch his cheek.

“I do not need the help of a mortal, leave me be.”

He rolled over to his non-injured side; ignoring your figure that was hovering over him.

After a while, you gave in to his childishness and picked up your things intending to leave. You looked back at the god, his hair still messed up and covered in dirt. The bed slightly dipping under his weight. You remembered that in one of your phone calls with Jane, she said something about Loki being mind-controlled during New York, not that it justified anything that had happened. She said he was damaged and hurt and needed help.

Looking back at Loki you rolled your eyes at his petty behaviour. Maybe he was hurt, but could someone like him really be healed?

tags: 

@tarynkauai

you can message me if you would like to be added :)

thank you @twohearts-hs for editing- you’re the best!

[ringmaster-jack]

Pass the Kerosene

[ An intermitted drabble elaborating on what occurred between Jack and his firebreather during the events in Early August.  It’s long as shit and it took me forever to write but I’m sick of looking at it so herE.  Preemptive apologies for all the god damn fire puns.  Also this drabble gets kinda dark and psychological-like so if you’re bothered by that kind of thing, warnings inbound. ] 

                                                        ♤ ♠ ♤ ♠

"What do you mean he's GONE?"

"I mean what I said.  He's gone.  He left."

The ringmaster clutched his face in his hands, a desperate and unyielding attempt to quell some of the disorganized jargon that threatened to spill from his lips.  It took him a few moments to collect his barrings enough to speak again without screaming, but even then, it was barely contained.  There was only so much one man could take over the course of a day, and there had been too many days like this over the passing months.  Chaos, change, danger and all that came with it; it was something Jack had more than accepted as a part of his life, long before he ever began his showmanship.  But everything was moving too fast, now.  Much too fast, and much too much of it, with repercussions he couldn’t even begin to unravel.  The way his brow tightened against the press of his roughened fingertips seemed to mark the coming of a nasty headache.

"What did you say to him.”

It took a hyper sense of focus, an ungodly shade of self-control for him to even manage one line to the woman in front of him without snapping like a territorial wolf.    

"What he needed to hear." Just one.

"...SERA.  What does that even MEAN?  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO.”

Even if the sturdy-shouldered firebreather had wanted to respond to him, he didn’t really allow her the time with which to do that before he began flapping his jaws again.  Never shutting up was one of the ringmaster’s most defining features.  It was why a lot of the crowds he drew in enjoyed him, though to this woman, it was his most aggravating trait.  He never listened. 

 For a time, she allowed him to continue his yammering, though she felt herself not far from her own tipping point. Jack was the only one who could insight such a very specific and special sort of rage in her that was otherwise left unexpressed to their fellow carnies.  Amber eyes narrowed gradually the more she listened to him blather on, locked to his frantic and emotive pacing.  

"This is...bad. This is really really bad, this is not good this is a damned--catastrophe-- he can't--he has no place else to go, Sera, ANYTHING could happen to him--ANYTHING could just-- what, what was it?  What did you say to him?  WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHY? What the fuck possessed you to think that sending HIM --of all people--out-- THERE-- He was hurt, he--"

"He wasn't in critical condition. And he left on his own. He's a grown man, Jack, he can take care of himself."

"NO, HE CAN'T. HE'S NOT...THERE. MENTALLY."

"Okay, so then you took advantage of someone with a serious psychological condition.  That’s what you did, you haven’t done anything to actually help him. That’s pretty horrible, Jack.  You, you are pretty horrible. Y’know? "

Miss Seraphina Lefevre was many things, but she had never been one to pussyfoot about when it came to matters such as this.  For at least 5 years now she’d known and followed this man, which was why it came as no surprise to her when he turned on a dime and launched himself into her personal bubble to thrust her to the nearest tent rafter.  The framing of the big tops always held considerably sturdier than any of the personal tents, but even they shook with the force of his motion.    

"Don't you dare put that shit on me, Sera.  It’s not like--" 

The ringmaster didn’t have time to finish speaking before he felt a pain strike him where he touched her, a scorching heat that left blisters on his hands.  He should have known by now to never even try with this woman; the fire witch hadn’t even the need to struggle in order to get him to back down with a startled shriek.  

She pushed herself away from the pole she’d been so rudely knocked against, arms folding as she approached the man who by now had gotten over the momentary shock of having the first layer of his palm skin burned off. 

She spoke before he could finish, contemptuous and lucid in her speech, despite her obvious irritations over his lazy threats of violence.  Some people feared this man, but she knew him for what he was.     

"What is it like, Jack? Because from where I'm standing, this isn’t exactly out of your usual routine.  Maybe you’re invested in it now, but you know as well as I do you’ll eventually lose interest.  You always do.  You can go on and lie to yourself, if you want to believe you actually have feelings for him, then fine.  But it’s not the truth.  If you actually cared about him then you’d realize all you were doing was using him and playing games with his head. Hurting him. Like you do with everyone.  All. the time."

The heat that radiated from her person felt like stepping into a sauna, but Jack refused to swallow his pride no matter how many steps she took towards him.  He was sweating now, but his expression refused to crack under the very literal heat.  He was a stubborn sort.

"Why are you such a fucking bitch to me--”

"No, Jack. You're going to listen."

With every breach of distance, the showman's posture would sink.  Even with disregard to her firepower, this woman stood at a respectable and athletic 6′2″-- she was no delicate flower, and Jack, although he’d been healthier than in previous months-- was still not much of a match by comparison.  Not without his toys, or some backup-- and she was supposed to be his backup.  

"I don't care how much you think you want him. You do this every single time. You fixate on one person or thing and drain it of everything it has until there’s nothing good left."

"I don’t--want him, Sera, I need him--it was different with him.  I don’t know how to explain it, it just...I’ve never felt this way before.  You don’t understand-- you don’t-- get it.”

"Oh, I don't?"

Though she’d stopped moving toward him, her words were no less harsh than the fire in her veins.  Perhaps even worse, to one such as the ringleader.

"4 years ago, Cayri. Do you remember that name? 3 weeks of courting and one pregnancy later and suddenly you're not interested. She's madly in love with you but you push her away to the point of emotionally crippling her despite the child you left in her belly.  3 years ago, Scout. How about him? You certainly loved to push him around, and he was ready to give you the world, but whatever happened to him? You think he just--disappeared, Jack? He's probably dead now, and you don't even care anymore.  Left to rot somewhere in the catacombs for centuries, I’m sure of it.  2 years ago, Alice. Dead from an overdose on stimulants that you provided her with. She’d never done anything like that in her life before she met you.  2 years ago, Rosalie-- a prostitute and an addict now in the red light district.  She was in school to become a teacher before she met you, Jack. A teacher.  1 year ago, Khai. You--"

"Stop, stop-- just-- stop it. I get it.  I get it, okay?  What do you want from me?  I can’t control the way I feel. I don't know what to do. You don’t know all the shit I have to deal with Sera. I'm doing the best I can."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH."

Ah, there it was.  Her breaking point. One could only listen to the crying, blithering bleats of a spindly, insane man-child for so long before losing their cool. She never really had that much ‘cool’ in her, anyway.  This was made abundantly clear by the flames that danced between her fingertips a mere inch or two from the man who spoke, exaggerating her gestures in the most intimidating of styles.  Jack ducked away from each movement she made-- she wasn’t making any conscious effort to injure him, not yet, anyhow, but he could still feel his unshaven chin hairs singe when she got too close.  

"I don’t CARE if you’re trying.  You need to be better.  You need to be a better PERSON.   Your mental disorders aren’t justification to be a horrible human being. You ruin everyone you come into contact with and you don't even CARE.  You can’t just keep doing this shit every other month and going on about your business like it’s okay.  It’s not fucking-- okay, Jack.  There are consequences.  Maybe not for you, but for everyone else who has the fucking misfortune of having to deal with you.  If you actually care about anyone then get your shit together."

Silence.

  The ringmaster heard nothing from her that hadn’t already been reeling around in his own mind-- and pretty often, in truth.  It didn’t make it hurt any less to hear it out loud.  Although his eyes followed the fire that swirled within her calloused hands, he gave no real reaction to it, now, unblinking and motionless.  There was a stillness that followed before his voice made its reappearance, indignant and soured.  He turned up the collar of his coat, a small expression of anxiety that he rolled into with a hefty side step, away from his second in command and her judging stare.

"...If that's really how you feel, then why don’t you just leave? Just.  Go. Get out.  Go ahead.  I don't need you."

"I can't.  I made a promise. Unlike some people, I actually keep my promises."

"And what promise is that, Sera?  To irritate me relentlessly until I develop high blood pressure and die of a heart attack at the age of 42?”

"This isn't funny Jack."

“No, it’s not.  You think I’m joking?  Leave.  I told you to go.  That wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand.  Good day to you, madam.  Au revoir.  You are dismissed.  Goodbye, I am tired of listening to your bullshit.  Do not pass go, do not collect 200 gold.  Make sure to leave your keys by the door.  Get the fuck out.”

This did not earn the look of shock or terror that the jackal had initially expected.  In fact, she actually laughed at what he’d had to say, and genuinely so.  It wasn’t because of the content in his words; though, and he knew that long before her merry sounds were quelled.  Even with the heat of her flames still twitching through the air, he felt his blood chill.

“Jackie...” the redhead began, her voice softened from its previous state of enmity.  Coming from her, that didn’t necessarily mean something good was inbound.  

“I do...at least 70% of your paperwork.  Most of the documents for all this?” She gestured around them, her fire leaving streaks of afterglow in the dim light of the tent. 

 “Most of this is in my name.  Just because you’re the poster boy doesn’t mean you’re the showrunner.  I got you here, not the other way around. This is my circus.”

Well... she had him there.  It was never something he’d actually thought about, though.  Ever.  In fact, it was such a distant concept in his brain that it almost felt as if he’d just learned it.  How was he supposed to come back from that?  He hated arguing with this woman.  He hated this woman, period.  

“Well...then...fine,” He was defeated.  He knew when to admit that.  But it didn’t mean the lanky showman was going to take his defeat lying down.  

Instead, he’d walk away from it entirely.  

“Then I’ll leave!  I don’t need this place.  And I especially don’t need you.  See how well this garbage runs without me, I’m gone.  I don’t have time for this.”

A dramatic exit was the goal, here, but yet again, the witch superseded that in an instant by way of magic.  Before the ringmaster could even get halfway to the door, he’d been cut off by a wave of fire-- if he hadn’t sucked in and allowed himself to stumble and fall back, it would have most certainly burned him.  The uncharacteristically high pitched shriek that came from his lungs would have been funny in other circumstances, but this wasn’t really that sort of moment.

 The fire that spread formed a ring around them, a cage of flame that suspended itself at a height that made it nigh impossible to take his leave.  He was more than just a bit upset, now.  He was pissed.

“No.” the fire witch exclaimed, her voice strong and unyielding.

“Sera, what the fuck?”

"Jack..."

Through the veil of flame, the fire dancer had coast towards the ringmaster, unscathed by the heat of her element.  She’d made a point to kneel down beside him, her hands to her knees to speak to the man as if he were a child. Jack rebound from his momentary startle and returned to a state of violent irritation in record time, his brow heavily knit in her direction. 

"Why am I here?" She asked of him.

"Well, presumably to make mon--can you please stop it with the fire?  My nuts are getting steam-cooked here, "

"No. Besides that."

"Because you enjoy making my life miserable?”

"Jack...”

“...Let me go, Sera, I swear to your gods...”

Seraphina didn’t seem to have any intention of dropping the firewall that surrounded them.  Even as the ringmaster tried to slip back on his rump, she stayed where she was -- it wasn’t like he could really go anywhere unless he wanted to burn.  The possibility of crossing the flaming barrier wasn’t completely out of his mind, though.  Especially when she began talking again. 

“She asked me to stay with you.  Tabitha. She asked me to keep an eye on you if anything happened to her.  To make sure you don’t get into trouble.  I’m basically your caretaker, Jack.  We’ve talked about this.”

“I can assure you we most certainly have not.”

“Three times.  I’ve discussed this with you three times, now.  You’re not...well, Jack.”

“No, but I’d be a whole lot fucking better if you stopped holding me hostage like some kind of fucking domestic terrorist.”

While his anger was mounting, the firebreather remained static, indifferent.  Jack had begun the task of pushing himself back up to his feet again, though with a brief curse beneath his breath when he used his scorched palms to do so.  He’d forgotten about that.  

 “I need to go, Sera, I need to-- I don’t have time for this, I have to-- find him, he could be--”

“He hates you.”

Although he’d begun pacing around the flickering heat that surrounded them to try and find a means of escape, the showman stopped in his tracks when she spoke again.  Of all the things she’d said to him, this was one he hadn’t anticipated.  He gawked at the woman with more confusion than antipathy, his forehead dripping with sweat.    

“...What?  What does that even mean?”

“He said he hates you, Jack.  The jester.”

“...You’re lying.”

“Do you really think he would have just left like that if I was making shit up?  I didn’t want to tell you that part, Jack, but you left me no other option.  You nearly got him killed.  The gods know what else you’ve done to sway him in the other direction, but he told me himself how he feels.  Not in...so many words, but-- just let it rest.  Persuing him won't get you anywhere.  You’re just going to make yourself even more miserable. It’s been a long day.  For everyone.  It’s time to give it up.”

Whether she was being honest or not, this new revelation was one that Jack hadn’t the mind to even begin contemplating.  He didn’t want to contemplate it, but he knew that the moment he actually had a second to relax, it would be the first and only thing he’d be able to ruminate on.  He felt a hollowness in his chest that crept into his belly like the sensation one felt when falling.  He didn’t like it.  Not one little bit.  

“...Okay.  Fine, just.  Whatever, I won't--I won’t go -- looking for him.  Please, just... take down your stupid firewall. I need to get out of here, Sera, I need to--”

“You need to calm down.”

“I AM CALM.” Hardly.  He inhaled sharply and shot her a glare that was even sharper.  Everything in him was tense.

“I have to feed Umbra.  Do you have any idea how much I’m trying to placate this absolute trainwreck of a situation that is my life without having a total and complete nervous breakdown?  Because frankly you’re doing nothing to help with negating that scenario, woman, so if we could just please please please continue this conversation later, I promise promise promise you, I won't-- leave, okay?  Scout’s honor.  But I need to fucking go.  Now.  He has to be fed before this gets any worse.”

“I’ll get him food.  You need to go rest.”

“You can’t give him what he needs, I--”

“I know, Jack.  I spoke to him.  He told me what you’ve been feeding him.”

“...You...spoke to him?”

“Yeah.  The night you got stabbed, actually.  I took him to a diner.  Bought him a milkshake and everything.  I know what he is, Jack.  It’s inconsequential.  You were supposed to stop--”

“I did--I did stop!  But I have to now, for him.  You don’t know what will happen if I don’t...”

“You don’t know either, Jack.”

She just wouldn’t let up, would she?  The fire still blazing around them, Jack pushed his fingers into his eyes-- not enough to really hurt, just enough to blackout his vision and show him stars.  He pinched the bridge of his nose after this, no longer even attempting to take his leave as he tried, tried to compose himself.  As was the case with most situations for the ringmaster, he knew that the only way he was likely to get out of this was to smooth talk his way to the end.  But he hadn’t felt this angry in a long, long time-- and when he opened his lips to try and convince her again, all that came out was a bitter, tired,

“I fucking--hate you.  I hate you so much.”

The firebreather had pushed herself back into a standing position, if only to keep on level grounds with the ringmaster.  She’d remained unphased by the lazy insults or Jack’s penchant for traipsing the tent floor, something that had started again, like a caged lion.  When she spoke, it was much calmer than it should have been.

“I think you need to go back to Zaun.”

He halted in his tracks, but only to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you need to be hospitalized again if this is how things are going to be with you. In the past half a year alone you’ve almost died at least 5 times, you’ve happily invited an assortment of demons and malevolent spirits into our place of work, endangering everyone in the process, you’ve murdered an unknown amount of innocent people to use as sacrificial fodder to a literal dark god-- do I need to go on?  Because I definitely can, you’ve also-- ”

“Shut up.” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper.

“You’ve made it crystal clear to me that you’re a danger to yourself and to others.  You need things that I’m not capable of providing.  With the record you have, getting you involuntarily committed is a non-issue, Jack.  But I’d really rather have your consent.  You need help.  Please recognize that.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!  They don’t help anyone there, Seraphina!  They make everything worse!  Exponentially!  Do you know what they did to me in there?  Do you have any fucking idea--”

“I’ve been given a basic summary of your history, yes.”

“Then you know it won't make anything better.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“NO.  NO I AM REALLY, REALLY NOT.”

Incapable of finding an exit within the ring of fire, he turned back to the flame dancer instead, her self-righteous attitude and confident stare doing nothing but fueling the anger that bubbled in his stomach.  He wanted to approach her, to scream in her face, or worse-- but he knew any attempt at fighting this woman would probably end poorly on his behalf.  Especially if what she said was the truth.  So he continued speaking, instead.  Aggressively and with a bit too many flippant hand gestures, but maybe she’d listen.

“2 years in that place was enough.  They kept me so doped up I could barely function-- I’m only just now remembering bits and pieces of it, Sera, but I don’t need to remember any of it to know the shit they do in there-- it’s not fucking good.  By ANY stretch of morality!” he exclaimed, to which the witch seemed apathetic.

“They don’t heal people there, Sera, it’s where you go when no one else will take you anymore.  They just lock us away with disregard to any kind of human dignity and throw away the key.  They do things that would never fly anywhere else in the world because nobody actually gives a fuck about people like me.  Do you understand where I’m going with this?  I don’t know what misguided garbage my sister funneled into your thick fucking skull, Seraphina, but I’ll tell you right now--her whim isn’t worth the trouble.”

“It’s absolutely worth the trouble.  I loved her, Jack.  And she loved me.  And regardless of what you think, I’m not your enemy.  You’re like family to me, now.  I just want what’s best for you.”

My gods, the emotional rollercoaster they’d been on over the course of the past 15 minutes was one for the history books.  Now, it was the ringmaster’s turn to laugh.  It was a cold sound that built up from a soft chuckle into a half-exhausted but deep-bellied cackle, one he made zero effort to hide.  It made the elemental hesitate; if only for a moment, shifting her weight to the opposite foot in discomfort.  When he looked at her again with a shimmer in his eye, that hesitation grew.

“Is that really what you think?  You think she actually loved you?  Oh, honey-- if that’s really what your whole life has been based around for the last 6 years, do I have some sad news for you--” 

She’d wanted to interrupt him before he spoke again, but she didn’t get the chance.  His body lethargic in the heat, Jack floundered his way in her direction-- though this time there was no intent to try and assail the witch.  His cruel smirk betrayed his intent.

“Tabi didn’t love anyone.  You think I’m bad?  At least I have the capacity to actually feel something.  I fucking hate it, but it’s a thing, no matter how much I try to ignore it, y’know?  Her, though-- all she ever cared about was power.  Progress, at any cost.  What she thought was progress, anyway. She’d do anything if it meant furthering her ‘career’.  She slept around a lot more than I ever did-- you were just one in a long, long list of others.  I really don’t think she wanted you to babysit me with my best interest at heart.  She never really did care what happened with me.” The bitterness that hung on those words was enough to crumble his facade of egotism, at least for a moment, before his speech would continue on, more somber than before.  Sera was left to her own rumination for those few protracted seconds.  

  “If you’re really telling me the truth-- if you really do care about me, then.  Prove it.  I made a promise to you, and I don’t intend to break it.  But I need.  To go.  And you need to trust me.  Please, Sera.  I’m begging you.”

The firebreather knew that Jack had a way with manipulating people in his favor, regardless as to whether he was in the right or not.  She was one of the few mortals who had lifted that veil and seen the ugliness beneath the surface.  She didn’t buy his bullshit, not for one minute-- but in the stillness of the evening, with only the sound of her embers crackling in a coil around them... she saw some sincerity left within this filthy but charming man she’d followed for half a decade.  Maybe it was something in the way his eyes gleamed with unshed tears, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion in his voice.  She didn’t know at that moment.  He’d hit her in places that were much more damaging than the scorch of any flame ever was.  Things weren’t adding up.  

“...Fine.”  

Jack let forth a triumphant but passive ‘woo!’ when the intense temperatures that surrounded him where uplifted in a flicker of hot ash.  He knew better than to bolt immediately, so he took a moment to wipe the sweat hanging from his skin with the sleeve of his jacket, and offer her his graciousness.  Of course, the almost sardonic tone to his voice belittled that sentiment, now that the danger had been extinguished.  

“Thanks, boss, you won't regret it, I--”

Well, maybe not extinguished, so much as... muted.  Temporarily.  

His words garbled by the sensation of the firebreather taking clutch to his throat, Jack’s own hands instinctively moved to try and grab her arm-- a poor choice, as it only reignited the sting on his palms.  Her grip was so rough that the tips of her ruby-polished nails left crescent brandings around his neck.  Speaking was nearly impossible when you had a fire witch strangling you, which had perhaps been her intention.

“But let me make one thing clear to you first.”

Her amber gaze left holes in the man’s skull.  Jack did his best to avoid eye contact, but the panic in his expression was undeniable.  

“You’re not a hard man to track down, Jack.” 

That was all she said.  Nothing more, nothing less. One cryptic line that would stick with him in the coming weeks, though the burns on his neck would fade in a matter of days.

It didn’t take the woman long to release him, giving him the freedom of speech again-- but it took Jack a moment to compose himself through the fit of dry hacking.  He managed to rasp out a passionless, 

“Okay,” 

to her statement, though nothing more came for a minute still. Fire mages were never any fun, and though it was in his nature to poke fun of her for her amusingly heated temperament, he toned it down.  For once in his life.  

“I’m... leaving now.  If you want to dance again later, you know where I’ll be.  Thanks.  I suppose.”  

It was an anticlimactic ending to an incredibly intense night, enunciated with wounded pride that he did his best to uplift long enough to carry out the door with him.  He was no gentleman, but Jack would still do the bare minimum to at least present some sort of dignity, whatever that meant in his mind. It was a fine note to end on, he pondered, as he knew somewhere in the back of his thoughts that this was far, far from over.  

The stench of paranoia lingered in the air beneath the saccharine smell of late summer.  It hung itself heavily on the evening breeze that kissed the showman’s wet skin when he stepped out of the big top.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

House Call

A JSE Fanfic

Switch AU

Writing for the same AU two weeks in a row isn’t something I normally do, but I feel like this AU needs it because, well, I haven’t formally introduced all the characters yet. So, as a follow-up to the last thing I wrote, here’s this thing! Wherein some of the boys meet each other, and some more characters are introduced!

Jackie didn’t consider himself smart. Sure, he was able to get through medical school easily enough, but he wasn’t a surgeon or a specialist or anything complicated, just a general practitioner. That didn’t require too much book smarts to become, did it? And besides, there were plenty of areas where he had no idea what he was doing. That became evident when he tried to use Rama’s computer to play a video and ended up somehow entirely breaking the thing. He tried for half an hour to figure out what happened before giving in and calling a friend.

“So, uh...” Jackie bounced nervously, standing next to the desk in the study. “Is it, like, completely useless now, or...?”

The guy sitting at the desktop computer didn’t look up at him. He didn’t look like what most people imagined programmers to be like. He wore a black jacket and ripped black jeans, and his brown hair had a streak of green and a streak of black running through it. His eyes were two different colors: green on his right and blue on his left. “Yeah, completely useless,” he said casually. “You broke it all.”

“What?! You can’t be serious!”

“Dead serious. Gonna have to scrap the whole CPU.”

“But Rama has so much saved on here! We can’t just throw it all out! So much of their work is gonna go to waste—wait a second.” Jackie’s eyes narrowed. It seemed the programmer was biting back a smile. Jackie scowled, giving him a hearty shove. “Oh, very funny, Anti. Congratulations, you gave me a heart attack.”

“How many times are you gonna fall for that?” Anti asked through laughter.

“Well, it looks like every time at this point. Now give me the actual news.”

Anti calmed down, reentering his serious mode. “I dunno how it happened, but you somehow caught a virus on here. Not seriously harmful, but still nasty. Gimme a few more minutes, I should be able to root it out. Hopefully it hasn’t corrupted anything beside your browser, gonna have to reinstall that.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess?” At least it was salvageable. “Do you...need anything?”

“Uh...” Anti looked over to where Jackie was hovering over his shoulder. “I need you to stop being a fucking helicopter.”

Jackie leaned back, taking a few steps away. “Alright, calm your boots. I’ll just go stand in the corner, Blair Witch style. Don’t mind m—”

His snarky remark was cut off once he felt a vibration in his hoodie pocket. He dug around inside and pulled out his phone, a number he didn’t recognize onscreen. He frowned, then tentatively accepted the call. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. Until: “Hello! You wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Parker, would you?”

“This is him.” Jackie absolutely did not recognize the faintly posh British voice, yet it somehow sounded familiar. Maybe it reminded him of one of his friends’ voices.

Anti leaned back in the study’s swivel chair. “Hey, you mind taking that outside? Concentration, and all.”

Jackie made an okay sign, then left the study, leaning against the wall in the hallway outside. While he was moving, the person on the other side continued to talk. “Right. Um, my name is Jameson Jackson. I don’t know if he told you about me, but, uh, I got this number from a friend of yours. He told me to call you if we were ever in need of a doctor.”

“Wait, you’re the guy who Volt saw do real magic, right?” The incident had happened about a week and a half ago, and ever since then, Schneep would not stop bringing it up. As to be expected, when you discovered that something you thought was impossible was, in fact, possible. “I saw the whole thing on the news, too. Isn’t your stage name, like, Jazzy, or something like that?”

That prompted a sudden burst of laughter on the other end. “Jazzy!” Jameson repeated lightly. “Maybe I should have used that. No, it’s actually the Jaunty Jackson. Adjectives starting with J are scarce.”

“I see,” Jackie nodded. “So, what’s the problem? I mean, you wouldn’t be calling a number that a superhero gave you and told you it was for a doctor if you didn’t need...well, a doctor.”

“Oh, right, the problem. Well you see—” Jameson suddenly stopped. Jackie could faintly hear another voice on the other end, sounding a bit snappish. Then Jameson’s voice said something, sounding like he’d covered the phone with his hand. Jackie thought it was along the lines of “Shut your mouth and let me help you.” Then, Jameson returned. “Sorry about that. Anyway, the problem is that a friend of mine has had a bit of an...issue, a health issue, for a long time. It hasn’t really been looked at, but I thought that, since today is one of the bad ones, that it was about time we got around to that. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“No, of course not.” Jackie was already mentally reviewing the possibilities. “I’m not in my office right now, but can you come over here if I give you my address?”

“Oh. You can’t...come over here?”

“I mean, technically I could. But my spouse is out for once and they’d kill me if I left our daughter without supervision.” Anti didn’t count. He could leave at any minute.

On the other end of the line, there was what sounded like a discussion. A few moments passed. “Alright, where’s your address?” Jameson finally asked. Upon Jackie giving it to him, he said, “Oh good, that’s pretty close. We’ll be there in...hmm, fifteen minutes.”

“Alright. Just ring the doorbell, I’ll answer.”

“Understood. Thank you very much, Dr. Parker.”

“Eh, just call me Jackie. Everyone does. And no problem.”

“Thank you very much, Jackie. We’ll be there soon.” And with that, he hung up.

At that moment, two small children raced past Jackie, screaming. One of them, a taller boy with curly red hair and freckles, attached himself to Jackie’s leg. “Uncle Jackie, help!” he said. “She’s prosecuting me!”

The other child, a younger girl with black hair and eyes, skidded to a halt and whirled around, making the blanket tied around her neck fly in a nice whoosh. “I’m no-ot!” she yelled. “Dad, he stole the treasure of the Bed Plateau! He needs to pay for his crimes! In the Bedroom jail!”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, I can’t help a thief. But I don’t see any treasure. Are you sure you’re not persecuting him, Michelle?”

Michelle stomped her foot. “It’s in his pocket!”

“No, it’s not! You don’t know that!” The boy said, still holding on to Jackie’s leg.

“Well, Will,” Jackie said patiently. “I guess I have to ask you to...turn out your pockets! Show me you don’t have anything to hide!”

Will froze for a moment, then shoved himself away from Jackie and resumed his sprinting, shouting “You’ll never take me aliiiiiiive!”

“Face justice!” Michelle shouted, running after him.

Jackie shook his head, smiling, then peeked back into the study. Anti was still glued to the computer screen, now frowning. “Hey, how’s it goin’ in here?”

“Worse than I thought it would be,” Anti replied, clicking through files on the desktop. “This is gonna take...a lot longer than I thought. Might be here for a while.”

“Okay. But just to let you know, some people are coming over in a bit under fifteen minutes.”

“Really?” The word was half surprise, half groan. “Who? Some of Rama’s friends? Repair people?”

“Well, remember those two guys who Volt gave my phone number to for if they ever needed help? One of them just called me.”

“The magician and his assistant. Got it. Tell me when they leave.”

Jackie sighed. “You need more than two people to talk to, Anti.”

“Does Will count?” Anti glanced away from the screen for the first time. “How’s he doin’, by the way? Playing nice with Michelle?”

“He just stole her Beanie Baby,” Jackie said. “But I think that’s so Michelle can play defender of the bedroom. Nice of him.”

“Good.” Anti turned back to the computer. “Can you, uh, make sure neither of them get hurt while I work on this?”

“Of course, dude. I’ll shout for you if anything bad happens.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two kids had stopped playing defender of the bedroom and were now spread out on the living room carpet, surrounded by markers and crayons and doodling on pads of paper. Jackie was lying on the sofa, watching. And then the doorbell rang and he went on high alert. “I think that’s the visitors I told you about,” he said to the kids, standing up. “You two want to go somewhere else or stay?”

“We’ll go in the dining room,” Will said, already gathering the drawing materials. “Finish in there. Michelle, are you okay with that or do you want to stay?”

“Uh-huh! It’s hard to draw on carpet anyway. Let’s go.” And the two of them left.

“Don’t forget to listen and ask for me if anything’s wrong! And don’t jump off the table again!” That would very much lead to one of them getting hurt. Jackie sighed. Maybe he should’ve kept them in here, but too late now. He sighed, and made his way over to the front door, swinging it open. “Hello! You must be Mr. Jackson and his friend, right? Come in, come in.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s us, thank you.” The pair of them walked right inside. Even though Schneep had given Jackie descriptions of them after the incident at the theatre, he still took a moment to examine them. The one who’d spoken was dressed in a purple button-down shirt, and had a thick black mustache. The other one was wearing a brown jacket and vest, like he’d stepped out of another era, and was carrying a wooden cane. The latter was leaning heavily on the former (and trying his best to look like he wasn’t), and the moment the two of them were inside they made a beeline for the couch. The one in the jacket immediately sat down with a faint expression of relief.

“Right, well, I’m Jameson, as you probably recognize from my voice,” said the one still standing. “And this is Marvin.”

“Pleasure t’meet ya,” Marvin said, nodding. He held out a hand.

“Nice to meet you too.” Jackie shook the offered hand. “Can I get you anything?”

Both of them shook their heads in unison.

“Alright. So. What’s the problem?”

Marvin scowled. “It’s not a problem, per se.”

“Yes it is,” Jameson muttered.

“Jems, lemme speak f’r myself, thank you.” Marvin turned his attention back to Jackie. “Y’see, when I was a little lad, I got very sick. I recovered, obviously, but not without some...after effects.”

“Ah.” Jackie sat down in the nearest armchair. Meanwhile, Jameson took a seat next to Marvin on the sofa. “Like what?”

Marvin folded his arms. “Bas’clly, me legs weren’t ever the same again. Walking can be...difficult.”

“How so? Does it hurt, or does it just take a lot of effort?”

“The second one. The more I stand and walk, the harder it gets. And It changes ev’ry so often, some days bein’ worse than others. But it’s nothin’ I can’ handle. Jems is just overreactin’.”

“Yes, exactly, I was overreacting when I found you sprawled in the middle of the upstairs hallway, claiming you were just ‘taking a break,’” Jameson drawled.

“Yes, you were.”

“And I was overreacting when you had to call me to help you down the stairs, then stumbled into the front room and immediately sat down without eating breakfast or anything, which is an important part of your daily routine.”

“Yep.”

“And I was overreacting when I had to support you getting into the car, then practically pull you up the path to this front door.”

“Exactly,” Marvin nodded resolutely.

Jameson threw his hands up into the air. “Dr. Parker. Jackie. In your professional opinion, is this a problem?”

Jackie pursed his lips. “Most people would consider it one.”

“Look, I’ve had worse days,” Marvin waved it off. “If I can still walk, it’s fine. And last time we tried to go to one of these doctors, they tried to put me in a wheeled chair, which I def’nitely don’ need.”

“I wasn’t about to say that you do,” Jackie said calmly. “Look, you sound like you’re doing okay for the most part. But if, maybe, I could help you make things a little easier, would you listen?”

Marvin looked over at Jameson, who was giving him a pointed look. “...prob’ly,” he mumbled.

“Alright. Well then, first things first, do you remember what got you sick as a kid? I need to know so I can get a general idea of what’s up.”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember it.”

The moment Marvin told him, Jackie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.” Marvin gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“There hasn’t been a case of that in thirty years.”

“Oh.” Marvin and Jameson exchanged looks again. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s been basically wiped out. You’re sure that’s what it was?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Marvin sighed, already sounding exhausted.

“Alright.” Jackie decided to store this information away for a later date. It wasn’t the point right now. But later, he was one hundred percent going to call these two again and talk about how, exactly, that could have happened. “Well, I guess we’re moving on. Now, I guess the number one question is to ask you what you want to be able to do. And if there’s anything that you definitely don’t want to happen. Obviously, you already talked about the wheelchair scenario, but is there anything else?”

Marvin narrowed his eyes, obviously suspicious. “Really? T'at’s it?”

Jackie shrugged. “I mean, I could technically tell you what you should be doing, but a lot of times doctors that just tell don’t really take into account the patient’s wishes. And especially in cases like this, dealing with chronic pain and fatigue, they try their best to fix everything through any means, and they don’t really think about maybe some things can’t be fixed. So, tell me what you want to happen and I’ll give you advice on how to accomplish it.”

Marvin whistled, and put his chin in his hands. “Well...Jems has his shows. I wouldn’ mind bein’ able to...the last show I was backstage for the first time, and they don’ have anyplace to sit there. I was lucky it was a better day, but...you get what I’m gettin’ at, yes?”

The whole visit didn’t take any longer than ten minutes. Ten minutes of just talking, with Marvin listing things that had bothered him and Jackie offering ways to make doing those things just a little bit easier. Jameson watched the whole thing, sort of in awe at what was happening. He hadn’t seen Marvin this open with someone else in...well, in all the time he’d known him. Sure, he was still doing his stubborn thing and insisting he could handle some things that JJ wasn’t sure he actually could, but the fact that he was listening was already an improvement. There must’ve been something about Jackie’s casual attitude and clear willingness to help that was helping him put his guard down.

“Is there anything else?” Jackie finally asked.

“No, I t’ink t’at’s all,” Marvin replied. JJ wasn’t sure he was being honest about that, but there’d already been a lot of sharing, and maybe he was starting to reach his limit. Now the question was just how much of the advice he was actually going to listen to and how much he was going to discard in favor of “I can do it, see?”

“Hey, Jackie, I finally fixed the—oh.” Another man had walked into the front room from deeper into the house, then instantly stopped in his tracks the moment he saw there were still other people in the front room.

“...oh, that’s good to hear,” Jackie said, breaking the long, awkward pause. “Um, Anti, this is Jameson and Marvin. I told you they were coming, remember?”

“Yyyeah,” Anti said slowly. “Hey, where are the kids?”

“In the dining room.”

“I’ll go check on them. Will and I need to leave soon anyway.” He turned and quickly walked right back out.

Jameson stared at the spot he’d been standing, then looked right back at Jackie. “What...who was that?”

“Oh, that was Anti,” Jackie explained. “He’s a friend of mine. Good with computers, so when ours broke, I called him over to see if he could fix it. Apparently he just did.”

“He’s a...bit strange, isn’t he?” Marvin asked. “With t’at unusual name, and the hair and eye color.”

“Well, he dyes his hair, and he has heterochromia, meaning he was born with two differently colored eyes. But Anti isn’t his name.”

“Really?” JJ asked. “Do you mind if I ask what the story is behind that, then? Or what his name is?”

“I mean, your guess is as good as mine,” Jackie shrugged. “I literally don’t think anyone knows what his name actually is. He’s insanely secretive about it, which only leads to more speculation, of course. He calls himself Anti ‘cause the name of his channel is antisepticeye.”

“His what?” Marvin repeated.

“Y’know, his YouTube channel. He does let’s plays and walkthroughs, usually a lot of horror games. Sometimes he’ll throw a comedy bit in there. You should check it out, it’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe we will,” JJ said. Marvin didn’t look so sure.

Anti reentered the front room, the two kids trailing behind him, holding their drawings and the supplies. “Well, we were about to leave,” he said, “but Will and Michelle wanted to show off their artwork.”

“Dad!” Michelle bounced forward, hoisting herself up onto Jackie’s lap. “Look! I chron’cled our adventures today!” She started showing off the pieces of paper, decorated in crayon.

“Wow, sweetie,” Jackie said, impressed. “They look really good! I guess we have more for the archives, don’t we?” That was what it was called when Michelle’s drawings ended up on the fridge.

Michelle beamed, then caught sight of Marvin and Jackie sitting on the sofa. “Oh! These are your new friends, right, Dad?” she asked. “Hi! I’m Michelle. Do you want to see my adventures?”

“Adventures? Why, yes, I would!” JJ said excitedly. “What sort of adventures are they?”

“I’ll show you!” Michelle bounded over to the sofa, managing to squeeze in right in between the two of them. She looked up at Will. “C’mon, don’t just stand there! Show Dad and Uncle Anti what you did too!”

“Oh.” Will shuffled his papers. “Well, I didn’t draw anything we did today. Just a lot of stuff that I thought was cool.”

Anti smiled for the first time that day. “More dinosaurs?”

“Yeah. A couple of them are.” He handed the drawings to Anti. “Like, there’s the one with the brontosaurus family that I really liked. But there’s a lot that are just stuff I saw.”

Anti flipped through the drawings. “Did you draw the shop we saw on the way here? That’s very good! Really looks like it.” His smile faded a bit when he reached the last drawing. “Wait, what’s this one?”

“What one?” Will poked up on tiptoes to see which picture Anti had come to. “Oh, that one. I had a weird dream last night. I woke up and saw someone in my room. We talked for a long time, and then I went back to sleep, and when I woke up he was gone.”

“...huh. Jackie, look at this.”

He passed the last picture over to Jackie, whose brows flew up into the air upon seeing it. “Will,” he said softly. “It wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

“No, I wasn’t scared.”

“Are you sure? This looks kind of scary.”

“But he wasn’t scary. He was pretty nice, and he looked really happy. Or, I remember him looking happy a lot, I think.”

“Hey, can I see t’at?” Marvin didn’t know why the words had popped out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure he said them until everyone looked his way.

Will shrugged. “Sure.” He took the drawing back from Jackie, then padded over and handed it to Marvin.

The drawing was of a stick figure drawn in gray marker, with squares standing in for clothes and shoes. Darker gray scribbles were done in marker over the stick figure’s head. On top of the scribbles, two black circle eyes and a curved smile mouth were drawn in crayon. The figure also appeared to be crying, but red crayon had been used for the tears. The background was various strokes and sketches done in black and gray crayon.

JJ leaned over to see the drawing. “That’s...a little unusual,” he said slowly. “But I suppose dreams are a little bit weird.”

“...t’s familiar,” Marvin muttered.

“What?”

“I said...never mind.” Marvin rubbed the back of his neck, where all the hairs had suddenly stood up. “I t’ink...maybe I had a dream like t’is once.” He was sure that wasn’t the answer. This felt almost like a memory he’d forgotten. But when would he have seen something like this? Sure, he’d grown used to seeing strange things ever since he’d moved in with a magician, but nothing even close to this. It was probably just his imagination.

Jameson narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t buying this one bit. But this wasn’t the time to get into it. “We can talk about it later,” he muttered.

Jackie and Anti, who’d been quietly talking among themselves, suddenly broke off. “Well, if you don’t need anything else to be fixed or hacked, I think it’s time for us to go,” Anti said. “Will still has homework.”

“It’s just math.” Will made a face. “I’m ahead in that.”

“But do you want to stop being ahead in that? No. But at least it’s only one worksheet, and maybe we can...I dunno, get something special afterwards? It’s close to the end of the school year, after all.”

Will’s eyes lit up. “Alright, then!” He gathered up his drawings. “Bye Michelle.”

Michelle hopped down and gave Will a quick hug. “Bye, Will! I’m gonna put these in the archives now.” And with a skip, she rushed off to the kitchen.

“Oh hey, we’re still meeting at Schneep’s this Saturday, right?” Anti asked.

“Uh, unless he suddenly gets...‘injured on the job,’ yeah,” Jackie nodded. “In fact I was thinking...we could have even more people meet us there.”

“Really?” Anti folded his arms. “Who?”

Jackie’s eyes flicked over to where JJ and Marvin were still sitting on the couch. “Oh no,” JJ said. “No, we couldn’t possibly—this sounds like it’s your thing, we shouldn’t interfere with that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jackie shrugged, adjusting his glasses. “It’s always good to meet more people. And besides, Anti needs more friends.”

“Wh—no, I don’t, I’m fine,” Anti insisted.

Jackie sighed. He looked over at JJ. “You know, sometimes I think he likes to be called Anti because he’s antisocial.”

“That wasn’t funny the first fifty times.”

“I mean...it woul’ be nice t’get outta the house,” Marvin said slowly. “Haven’ done t’at in a while.”

“So then, you should come!” Jackie said eagerly. “Get to know Schneep better, he’ll be happy to see you. He’s got a bit of a...shocking personality, though.”

Anti rolled his eyes.

JJ bit his lip, thinking, then shrugged. “Alright. If you insist it wouldn’t be...intrusive in any way, we’ll come.”

“Yes!” Jackie smiled. “I promise you won’t regret it.” He turned to Anti. “And you won’t either. You’ll see.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll consider it,” Anti scowled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Will has been tugging on my jacket for the last minute, trying to get me to leave.”

Will self-consciously dropped his hand. “You talk a lot,” he said defensively.

“You’ll talk a lot when you’re a grown-up too. But don’t worry, we’re going now.” Anti opened the front door, turning around for one last goodbye. “See you later, Jackie.”

“See you, Anti. Remember: Saturday!”

“Yeah, I got it.” The door swung closed again.”

Jackie turned to JJ and Marvin. “Are you two ready to leave now too? Or would you like to stay some more?”

Marvin pushed to his feet, leaning on his cane. “I t’ink I’m ready to go now. Ah...thank you...for your help, doctor.”

“Jackie, remember. And it was no problem, I was glad to help. Need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine,” Marvin said.

JJ stood up. “Thank you for having us, Jackie.”

“You know, I’m still going to say no problem.” A smile quirked at the edge of Jackie’s mouth. “I’ll text you to remind you about the plan for Saturday. Give you the address. Oh, and lemme get the door for you right now.” Jackie reopened the door that Anti had previously closed.

“Thanks,” JJ said. “C’mon, Marvin. Goodbye, Jackie!”

“Goodbye you two! See you later!”

The moment the door had closed behind them and they were once again outside, JJ turned to Marvin. “What do you think? Good visit?”

Marvin considered this. “It was...certainly more helpful than I t’ought it woul’ be.” He paused. “Jems, would you...mind if I leaned on you for a bit?”

JJ smiled. “Not at all, Marvin.”

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 64/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody

RATING: T (again after last chapter)

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

You leaned up and kissed Loki’s cheek when Thor and Bucky were gone.  “Is there a shower somewhere in this palace of yours?” you teased, but you really did feel disgusting for not bathing in days.  It was extremely polite of your Loki not to point out just how gross you were. 

Loki chuckled.  “No showers, darling, sorry. But I can ask the maids to prepare you a bath if you wish,” he offered instead.  

You couldn’t help huffing at that.  “Again with the maids,” you grumbled sarcastically, still not used to being pampered. Or maids, or really any of this, but you’d play along.  This wasn’t your culture and you could respect that things worked differently here.  You didn’t think you’d ever get used to “But if that’s what it takes…” you sighed.  You’d put up with maids to get properly clean. 

Loki stepped into the hall and stopped one of the maids.  He asked her quickly to prepare a bath for his lady in his chambers immediately.  You couldn’t help smirking, amused by his change from sweet, caring boyfriend, to prince of the realm.  The maid bobbed a curtsy and rushed off to make sure Loki’s orders were obeyed.  

You stood and stretched, a little wobbly-legged, and feeling the strange sensation of your lungs and heart actually working, but you were relatively ok, especially given what you’d just been through.  

You couldn’t help glancing at the end table where the cake had been and pouting.  “Guess your mom is like mine. No cake unless you finish your meal,” you whined at Loki. It was hardly fair not to get cake when you fell asleep before you could eat it.

Loki chuckled and made the cake reappear.  “I vanished it because my idiot brother was going to steal it,” he reassured you quickly. You lit up in delight and quickly devoured your chocolate cake with a moan of pleasure. Loki chuckled at your enthusiasm.  

When you finished the cake, Loki herded you quickly to his chambers so you could bathe and change into proper clothes instead of grungy sweat-soaked pajamas.  The maids helped you bathe and dress in a slightly different black and green asgardian style gown, it wouldn’t do to wear the same dress again.  You were reluctant to let them help you bathe and see you naked, but it had been worlds better with their help.  

Loki was predictably reading when the maids were done with you.  You curled up next to him on his sitting room’s couch and kissed his cheek. “Hey, Lokes,” you greeted him warmly and kissed him when he looked over at you from his book. 

He smiled brightly and happily returned the kiss.  “I simply adore you in my colors, kitten,” he purred.

You laughed.  “Of course you do, silly noodle.  You’re quite fond of claiming what’s ‘yours’,” you made the finger quotes as you teased him. 

Loki laughed and kissed you softly.  “Wearing my colors means something here, darling, besides just telling the other nobles that you are off limits to be courted,” 

You nodded. You understood that and you didn’t mind, especially when Loki’s colors looked so good with your coloring.  You remembered something else that you were going to ask.  Loki’s comment sparked the memory.  It hadn’t seemed important to worry about then, but now that you were back on Asgard… “I meant to ask earlier, but we kinda got distracted by other things…” you paused and held up your right hand, which bore the ring Thor had given you for your birthday. “Hammer-brain made it sound like there’s more to this ring than just that all the noble ladies wear them.  What’s the real reason behind the tradition?” you asked Loki bluntly so he wouldn’t be able to squirm out of an answer. You didn’t want a nasty surprise at dinner over your ignorance on the subject. 

Loki was surprised by the question for a moment, but nodded his agreement to answer your question.  You gave him the time he needed to find the words he wanted.  “It is true that all of the noble ladies of Asgard wear them.  Thor giving it to you at your birthday was a way to show that he and Mother approve of you.  They would not have made sure you fit in among the other nobles of Asgard if they did not,” you knew it meant a lot to Loki that his brother and mother approved of the woman he was courting.  Mostly that Frigga approved.  Loki paused before he continued.  “The other tradition of the ring is that,” he paused again, looking for the right words. “The lady will give her ring to her gentleman suitor on the day he proposes marriage to her, an exchange for the ring he presents her,” Loki explained in careful terms that said he wouldn’t be pressuring you to marry him.  He leaned in to kiss you softly, tentative, worried.  “Are you alright with that?” he asked gently.  He didn’t want you uncomfortable with Asgardian customs. 

You kissed him back, pondering what he’d said.  You had noted his careful words, his lack of pressure, and his simple explanation.  “It’s good to hear that they approve,” you replied and stole another kiss.  “And thank you for letting me know about the tradition, I just wanted to be prepared.  You never know with that brother of yours…” Thor liked to tease and wasn’t always the best at explaining things.

Loki chuckled. “Too true, darling. Now, would you like to go find Bucky and my aforementioned idiot brother?” he asked warmly, enjoying the simple pleasant conversation. 

You couldn’t help laughing at that. “Bucky yes, I’m sure he’s overwhelmed at being off of Earth and he’s our friend so we should be nice to him.  The oaf?” you shrugged. “Could care less about finding him,” there were times Loki greatly appreciated you going out of your way to reassure him that you preferred him to Thor.  

Loki laughed, knowing what you were up to, and you could see the appreciation in his eyes.  “Then let us go find the Cyborg,” he said and took your hand to lead you wandering through the palace looking for your friend. 

You giggled and held his hand as you wandered the palace with him. “You realize the morons probably have him trapped in their lair, right?” you asked after you’d been wandering awhile.  

“True. I just wanted to show you more of my home before we have to deal with the imbeciles,” Loki replied warmly.  He had been showing you around the palace and pointing out interesting sights as you walked.  You smiled and wrapped both of your arms around one of his.  You were still his ball of sunshine, that hadn’t changed with the transition to Asgardian.

You noticed the looks you were receiving from the palace staff.  You knew some were about you, about how bright and sunshiny and unlike the prince you were.  They were also amazed at how different the reserved prince was around you.  

Unfortunately, you both had to face the inevitable and brave the lair of the morons.  When you opened the door to their lair, you saw they were doing their best to get Bucky drunk.  So you and Loki had to go in to save him. 

More unfortunately, you were spotted by the warriors three when you entered their lair. “LOKI! AND HIS LITTLE LADY!!” they boomed and hauled you both further into the room.  

Bucky was sitting on one of the couches with Thor, dressed in Asgardian clothes, a mug of ale in his hands. Luckily for him, the serum Hydra had used on him when they were replicating Steve’s had made his metabolism as good as Steve’s so he could actually drink Asgardian ale. 

Loki glared at everyone in the room. He was willing to spend a small amount of time with them.  On his terms.  “You are not to try and get my lady drunk. She is in no condition to deal with you lot right now. She just got out of the healing wing and Mother will skin all of us alive if your actions lead to her ending up back there,” he warned them firmly.

“BOO!” they complained loudly. 

“You’re no fun, Loki!!” they whined 

“No, not this time,” Thor interjected quickly. “Loki is correct.  She just got out of the healing wing today and Mother will wring all of our necks if we cause her to end up there again,” none of them wanted Mama Frigga killing them.  Thor did at least get them to stop trying to shove ale into your hands.  You didn’t know if you’d be able to tolerate it now, and you weren’t in the mood to find out.  

Loki, of course, got ale shoved into his hands.  

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Come sit with us~!” The morons also seemed to realize that the way they could get Loki to stay was by making sure you couldn’t leave.  So they tried to herd you to one of the couches.  They surrounded you and tried to steer you to the couch.  Bucky jumped to his feet to help you.

You tried to summon a blade, but your magic fizzled out.  You were too drained from the transition and didn’t have enough power.  

However, the lovely little staff Loki had gifted you with wasn’t limited by such restrictions as low magic.  You slid your ring off, flipped it and caught the staff in one move before you swung it firmly with both hands, straight into the side of Fandral’s head. 

Fandral went flying away from you and the other morons backed off quickly.

Loki chuckled.  “Darling, you do know that isn’t what the staff is for, right?” he teased you warmly, though you could tell he was glad you appreciated your gift and that it worked for you when you were too low on magic to summon your own weapon.  

“It’s not?” you asked too innocently while Fandral cursed from where he was lying on the floor.  You were breathing heavily from just that bit of exertion.  Your lungs and heart weren’t used to working that hard anymore.  “I would have just stabbed them, but…” you didn’t want to admit to them that your powers were basically shot.  Loki would understand though.

He nodded. “I understand,” he promised as his arm wrapped around you and he guided you to sit on one of the couches so you could catch your breath.  You let him steer you to the couch. You were glad the idiot boys seemed to realize that they’d overwhelmed you and backed off. 

“I forgot…How much… Needing to breathe… Sucks ass,” you told Loki softly as you fought for air. 

You noted that the warrior boys were all watching confused.  “Her heart beats now,” one of them said stupidly.  Your heart was racing, in fact, so it wasn’t odd that the men had noticed, even as drunk as they were.

“No… Shit… moron…” you wheezed in reply

[samayla]

Gemini Character Sketches

I wrote this instead of writing an actual scene today, but it was so much fun I decided to share it anyway. Under the cut because it's kinda long (there are a lot of characters, after all).

Bilbo - A hopeless romantic at heart, though it’s been buried by a whole lot of stuffy, proper Baggins nonsense over the years. He’s far too concerned with what everyone says and thinks about him and his family, and that comes from growing up in a small town. His mother was a wild wanderer, and his father doted on her. When she died, Bungo was devastated and scarcely spoke of her. Bilbo misattributed that to her Tookishness because of the nasty gossip that began flying thick and fast as soon as Belladonna wasn’t around to defend herself. He decided to be "proper" because proper hobbits seemed happier. Would do anything for his sister, even save her from herself, if he was able. Like his father before him, he does not tolerate slander of Bella’s reputation within his earshot, but just because he doesn’t hear it, doesn’t mean it’s stopped. Quite the opposite in fact. But all Bilbo can see is his sister seemingly determined to ruin herself.

Bella - Has always felt like an outsider, even in her own family. With either a poisonous weed or her disgrace of a mother as a namesake, Bella took her father’s withdrawal after her mother’s death as a declaration of war. The rumors about Belladonna’s misadventures and shenanigans were easiest to link to Bella, who is the spitting image of her mother. Everyone seemed to be just waiting for her to screw up, so she decides she might as well give them their money’s worth. She is fierce and reckless, almost to the point of self-destruction. Guarded among the Hobbiton hobbits, she is almost achingly open to outsiders, desperate for some sort of validation, some indication that she might fit somewhere in the world. She spends a great deal of time traveling in the Shire (and beyond it, on the sly), and most of that time either on her own or with her Took relatives. She always comes home to Bilbo though. She can see how he worries about her, and she would spare him what she could of that.

Gandalf - Means well, but he tends toward self-doubt. He’ll launch a grand master plot with the Big Picture in mind, only to remember that he actually likes all these little moving parts he’s wrangled into it, and they have dreams and plans and feelings of their own, and what if they get hurt, oh no, what have I done? This is not a failing, but a strength, but with Saruman looking down his nose at him all the time, he has a hard time seeing that. He takes comfort in the kindness shown by these people he’s drawn together. It’s enough to give him hope that it’ll all turn out in the end.

Thorin - Terrified of the madness in his line, but determined to face it. Views his fear as cowardly, so he feels like he must put himself in this position to test himself against the madness in order to prove he is stronger. Prove he is fit to rule. He has been there for his father and grandfather as they fell to the madness, knows what it looks like, and it is the stuff of his nightmares. He is terrified, but he will do this for his people because they deserve the best ruler.

Fili - Caught between childhood and adulthood. “The time has come to put aside childish things.” But has it really? Or is he growing up too harshly and too fast? He sees and takes on responsibility for so many things. Worries about so many things. But Kili always brings him back. Thorin gives him something to aspire to. But he hasn’t got his uncle’s all-consuming fear to provide that vicious undercurrent to his temper. He still loves life too much to be needlessly cruel. He is at his heart kind and gentle and fair. He will be a great ruler, though he does not see it yet.

Kili - The exuberant youth. Like a lab puppy. Everything is bright and shiny and new, and he is definitely the one who tries things just to see what happens. He loves discovery. He’s lived a relatively sheltered life in the Blue Mountains, born at the tail end of the Wandering Years. He has only a few travels to draw on, and those mostly just taught him how big the world must be, how full of things to discover.

Dwalin - Smarter than he thinks he is. Has been treated like a big, dumb brute for so long and by so many people that he’s come to believe it of himself too. Loyal to Thorin until the end because Thorin has always treated him as a friend, a confidante, an equal. To Dwalin, that’s what greatness is.

Balin - The responsible one. A curious mix of father-figure and older brother to both Thorin and Dwalin. He remembers when Thorin had Kili’s zest for life. Fears the princes will grow up too quickly just like Thorin. He fears the dragon sickness, just like Thorin, but he hopes the princes will help keep him anchored against it. A grim sacrifice… He sees everything, is the most elvish of the dwarves in that observation and careful weighing of options.

Ori - Older than she looks, but her soft manner, baggy, handmade clothes, and unkempt braids don’t help. There is just always something else to be doing. She doesn’t have the patience or the interest to do her hair up or dress in something more form-fitting. She writes and draws to capture moments, and then she knits and crochets to quiet her body enough that she can think about them. And she can sell those items as well for a little extra cash, which is nice. “Still waters run deep.” Very introspective and analytical. She’s another one who sees and understands a great deal more than she lets on. She pushes herself in earning her mastery in order to help her family. It’s only a matter of time, after all, before Nori gets into more trouble than she can handle, or Dori works herself to death.

Dori - Grew up far too fast after the death of her brother, but she hasn’t let it make her bitter. She has clawed and fought for every single thing her family has, working several jobs to make sure her sisters have food on the table and clothes on their backs. Ori’s schooling was a massive expense, but she does not grudge her one bit of it. Rather, she sees it as a mark of how far they’ve come, that Ori can pursue art and writing, instead of simple survival. Is made anxious by the chaotic, uncontrollable, often cruel world around her, so she structures her life around little rituals — doing her hair, making tea, etc — and uses them like tent poles, with all the rest of the mess of the world draped high and distant in between.

Nori - Grew up far too fast, faster than even Dori knows, and has become rather jaded. She embraces the chaos of the world, draws it in close, and slits its throat before it can slit hers. Would die for her sisters. Annoys Dori on purpose, because if she’s got the energy to cluck and fuss at Nori, then the rest of her life must be in pretty good shape. It’s when she stops fussing that Nori worries. Isn’t exactly clear on how she ended up with Bofur, but she’d die for him too. Tolerates Thorin and Dwalin only so long as their plans align with hers for keeping her sisters safe and happy.

Oin - Not as hard of hearing as he pretends. Quite possibly the smartest of the company, he’s figured out that people talk more freely and truthfully when they think he can’t hear. It is a boon in politics as well as his work as a healer. “I believe so that I may understand.” Sees science and faith as two sides of the same coin, and uses both in his work.

Gloin - Proud to a fault, and willing to fight to the death to defend his honor. It makes him hard to be around, but once you’re in with Gloin, his pride extends to you too. Woe to the person who insults him or his friends. Understands the real value of money - as in it means nothing if you’ve no one to share it with, and less than that if you’re dead - and so he spends and invests freely. But not foolishly. A shrewd businessman, he puts great stock in people’s reputations and intentions, as well as his brother’s divining. Least likely of all the dwarves to fall to gold sickness.

Bifur - A clever problem-solver at heart, he turned to toy-making after his injury because no adults could see past it. They either wrote him off as a waste of time, or humored him as if he were some trained animal doing a particularly clever trick. Children, though… they play it straight. They are honest and open, and the amazing toys he makes with his considerable skills make them happy. Not to mention, they put food on the table for his cousins, who’ve taken him into their lives, in spite of the expense of his continued treatment. He has also created his own style of Iglishmêk to cope with the practical limitations of the original. His version allows for more nuance and feeling and speed. Only Oin and his cousins can understand it fluently, but the other dwarves in the company know at least standard Iglishmêk, even if most of them are a little slow at it.

Bofur - Hardworking and earnest, with a wicked sense of humor. He says he’s along on the quest for the free beer, but really it’s for Nori and a chance at a better life. He’s been a poor miner for his whole life, like his father before him, but he doesn’t want to die a miner. He isn’t sure what he wants, but out in the world is as good a place as any to find it. And if he can help keep Nori’s head on straight, so much the better.

Bombur - A domestic god, he can make just about anywhere feel at least a little like home. Joined up following the adorably earnest thought that, “Hey, the Lonely Mountain will probably need a bit of sprucing up, and I’m pretty good at that.” The most hobbit-like of the dwarves, but will defend his people to the death, no matter how ill-matched the battle, like a fluffy house cat defending its Person from a doberman. Doesn’t mind staying out of the spotlight. Like the Greek goddess Hestia, quietly goes about his business, secure in the knowledge that it is vitally important in its own quiet way.

[asthora]

The Last Dance

The Courier and Benny have their final face off and there’s only so much room for ambition in New Vegas.  Eventual Courier x Benny.

Crazy.

Goddamn mother-fucking crazy.

Benny doesn’t know if he means himself or the broad bathed in blood who’s just smashed in a Legionnaire's head with the heel of her boot.  God, he thinks he fucking loves her.  

Ha, love!

He’s confusing love for lust.  He does that often.  Once, he thought he loved a hooker but when he realized he remembered every detail about her tits, but not her name, he threw the notion of love out the window.  This is similar.  He knows the courier’s tits too.  Saw them a couple of nights ago in his suite.  Thought he would never see them again but hey, he’s thinking he might have a chance at round two if she decides to let his mangy ass go free.

A fucking pipe dream.

The courier empties a clip then uses the butt of her rifle to break one guy’s jaw then another poor soul’s nose.  Her companion, a man with a buzz cut who screams NCR even without the stupid beret, finishes them off with a few efficient shots to the gut.  Benny has never seen so much blood in his life.  Something about it is arousing.  Or rather, watching the courier do her dance of death is arousing.  The bodies, the blood, the severed limbs, it’s somehow just the right background for this celestial wasteland bitch.

How can this be the same gal he ravaged in his bed a few nights ago?  He wonders if he made it up.  A dream he conjured.  No, he couldn’t have.  The image of the courier laid out across his bed like a four course meal has been the only way he’s been able to survive the fucking nightmare he’s endured in this camp.  That night was real, just like this impossible slaughter is real.

He’s wandered into the world’s best show.  A front row seat to the showdown of the century.  She unceremoniously beheads Caesar.  Takes a fucking baseball bat to his head like it’s 2077.  A home fucking run.  Then his goddamn lapdog, Vulpes, the most evil son of a bitch from here to New Vegas and back, is just laid out like a nice steak, butchered and bloodied and fucked over until he’s ground brahmin and the courier is standing over his body triumphantly.

Benny can’t believe he bagged this broad.  

She’s a nightmare.  A daydream.  A scourge on this earth and she isn’t finished purifying the desert just yet.

The courier moves on, leaving the confines of the tent while he stays put on his knees, tied up like slaughterhouse brahmin waiting for the send off.

“Christ,” he says under his breath.

Off to the side, the severed head of Caesar is looking back at him with wide, startled eyes.  What a sight.  Any other day he would rejoice, the great Caesar is dead!  But he’d like to rejoice in the comfort of The Tops or at least somewhere that isn’t the dying black heart of the Legion.

He waits patiently, because that’s all he can do.  He listens to the sound of bullets flying and grown men screaming.  He wonders about the logistics of taking out the entire Legion camp, something the NCR has been wanting to do since the skirt wearing assholes plopped down across the Colorado.  He guesses it all came down to the fact that she had the balls where the NCR’s turned blue.   Then it helped that she had the jump on them.  She had Caesar's trust.  Never did the wrinkly old bastard think that a woman could send him flying from his pedestal.  Maybe that was all she needed.

A risky move, one Benny isn’t sure he would make, but he trusts the courier to do things right.  She has more luck than Lady Luck herself.  She’s also batshit crazy.

He’s beginning to wonder if the crazy broad is ever coming back when a weird silence settles over the camp.  There isn’t even any pathetic moaning of survivors.  The bitch killed them all.  He laughs into the void.

Dead!

The flap of the tent rustles and Benny straightens and lifts his chin, as if that’s going to help him look any more authoritative while he’s down on his knees like a New Vegas tramp.  He supposes he should have taken this time to think of how he could convince her to let him live.  But, the time has passed, and he blames dehydration and an empty stomach for the poor judgement call.

He’s as good as dead.

The courier walks towards him.  She takes big strides, walks with shoulders thrown back and her chin held high as if she’s going somewhere important.  She crouches right in front of him, so close he could count the freckles that pepper the bridge of her nose if he was so inclined.

“So pussycat,” he says.  “What’s next?”

She cocks her head  and gives him a shit-eating grin.  If he was nervous before, he’s sweating bullets now.  To think just seconds ago he was pondering walking out of this camp a free man.  The look in the courier’s eyes is downright devilish.

“I didn’t really plan this far,” she answers.  A lie.   Of course she did.  She’s like him, she sees all the angles and plans appropriately.  She knows exactly what she’s going to do and she’s gonna let him sweat over it for a few minutes.

“Time keeps on ticking, babydoll.  If you don’t make up your mind soon, we’ll be dancing in the dark.”  He laughs, but it sounds brittle and forced.  Fuck.  Charming his way out of this one is out of the question.

She laughs too.  “I like the dark.”

The courier stands up and puts a hand on her hip.  She’s wearing next to nothing, ripped jeans and a white tank top that has a few holes and more than one blood stain.  How is she not dead?  Maybe it’s all the crazy in her that keeps her kicking.  If two bullets to the noggin can’t send her off, the Legion can’t touch her.  She’s goddamn immortal and he doesn’t have a chance up against her.

“I get it pussycat.  Fair is fair.   And eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.  I deserve the worst,” he says.  Trying to woo her cold cold heart with pitiful moaning isn’t his best card, but doesn’t have the ideal hand to work with.  He’s going to count his blessings and remember she didn’t stick him with that switchblade she had stuffed in her bra the other night.  She’s had the chance to kill him.  Or maybe she was just waiting for this moment.

She raises an eyebrow.  “So you’re ready to die?”

“Well,” he gives her his slickest smile, the one that makes broads collapse into his arms.  “I wouldn’t say ready.  Just accepting and  thanking god above that a barn-burner like yourself is the one to bump me off and not some common wasteland fink.”

“You know how to charm a girl, Benny.” She deadpans.

“It’s a talent, what can I say?”

She lets out a long sigh.  He can tell she’s thinking, but he isn’t sure about what.  Which way to kill him perhaps?  Is she considering crucifixion?  He wouldn’t put it past her.  But maybe, the cross isn’t her style.  A good throat slash perhaps, or maybe she wants to send him out the same way he tried to kill her.  Bam bam.  

He wishes she would just do it so he wouldn’t have to keep waiting.  He’s been on his knees for so long that his legs have gone numb.  The first few hours were torture.  He felt every grain of Mojave sand through his slacks, biting his skin and eventually making him bleed.  He doesn’t feel anything anymore, wishes that the feeling would extend to his racing heart and sweaty armpits.  He wishes she would just kill him so the fear would go away.  He hates fear.

But she doesn’t seem to want to get the show on the road because she just stands there.  She looks at him for awhile.  She chews on her lip.  Circles him, running a hand through his greasy hair.  He would like it if she wasn’t tearing at the roots.  At one point she stops and starts cleaning the blood from her fingernails with water from her canteen and a decently clean portion of his dusty checkered coat.  Benny wants to fucking scream.

“Pussycat-”

“No,” she says.  “Don’t speak.  I’m enjoying the silence.”

She goes back to her circling.  This time she has a knife.  Sometimes she pokes him with it.  Gentle, not hard, just enough to sting but not enough to draw blood.  He knows he’s being teased.  Oh, she is a nasty one.  Every single jab chips away at his oh so holy pride, his carefully crafted cool cat image.  The bitch knows where to hit him where it hurts and he isn’t sure if he should applaud her or fucking lunge and try to rip her throat out with his teeth.

Woah.  Slow down there Benny-boy.

What a thought.  What a very tribal thought.  

Goddamnit, she’s wearing him down.  He has to focus.

But he’s tired, dehydrated, and he’s pretty sure he has a concussion from all those beatings the Legion so kindly gave him.  And she keeps going and going and going.  When he think she’s going to stop, she doesn’t.  He’s a doormat.  The courier wipes her boots on his slacks, spits in his hair, prods his bruises until he makes unholy noises.

Fuck he hates her.  He loves her.

At one point, her companion, the NCR fuck with the stupid hat, comes in to check on her but she waves him away and keeps up her torture.  Isn’t she afraid of Legion reinforcements?  Doesn’t she want to get out of here?  Move on with her life and leave him bleeding into the desert like the rest of her enemies?

Benny tries to think of it in a good light.  He’s the worst of the worst.  Her number one bad guy.  He’s getting the star treatment.  Caesar wasn’t important enough for her to kick and toss around in the dirt.  He should feel flattered.  That helps prop up his ailing ego a bit.  He holds onto that as she slaps him.  Once, twice, ow.

She crouches in front of him again.  She’s even closer this time.  Like really close, like oh boy, he can smell her.  Fuck.  Her baby blues are shining like neons.  She smells like sweat and blood and gunpowder.  A heady blend of the wasteland’s choice aromas.  She smells like Boot Rider, looks like New Vegas.

“I think I’m done,” she says.  “I’m getting bored.  You aren’t mouthy today, Benny.  I’m disappointed.”

He gives a tired smile.  “Sorry, honeybaby.  You caught me on a bad day.  Blame the concussion and the broken ribs.”

The courier pats him on the shoulder.  “You’ve been a good sport, Benny.  The best out of this whole goddamn game.”

“Well now I’m flattered, baby.  You’ve been 18 karat yourself, a real gasser.” He says.

“Ready for the send out?” She whispers.

“Endsville, next stop.”

The courier smiles and runs her finger along the rusted blade of her knife.  So she’s going with the classic hack and slash.  Here she is again, catching him off guard.  What a broad.

He thinks about closing his eyes but he ain’t a fink.  He squints a little instead.  He doesn’t want to seem too eager to meet the executioner’s axe.  She leans in closer, closer, closer.  The edge of the blade is up against his throat.  It’s warm like it’s sucked up some of the Legion blood and now has a dark heart of its own.

He waits.

Any minute now.

Tick tock.

Why the fuck is she taking so long?

The courier lowers her blade and the rope around his wrists suddenly falls into the dirt.  Is this a joke?  He looks down at his bleeding wrists and flexes his fingers.  They’re stiff.  The blood rushing back into his hands is painful and his vision goes blurry for half a second.  He isn’t sure if he should rejoice just yet.  What if this is a trick?  Another cruel torture device?  He watches her carefully as she reaches behind her and pulls out Maria.

Fuck.  Maria.

His number one broad.  His companion.  His first love.

She sets it before him gently as if she were setting down a puppy.  The courier looks up at him.

“I can’t fucking kill you.  I would like to but it just doesn’t feel right.  You deserve worse than death.  Life will fuck you over more than I can.” She says.

“You letting your number one most wanted walk free?”  He can’t believe it.  He just can’t.  The bitch is crazier than he thought!  He was ready to die and now he gets to live?  No, this isn’t how this works.  This isn’t how the law of the wasteland goes.  Like he said, and eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.  That’s how it goes here, that’s how it’s always been.  Even in Vegas.

The courier smiles.  “You’re a fucking prick and I hate you with every fiber of my being.  I’ll kill you one day but it isn’t today.”  She throws her canteen at his feet and stands.

“So this is it?  You just gonna let me go free?” He says, clumsily grabbing Maria and checking the clip.  One bullet.

She bites her lip.  “Free is a relative term.  I have one rule.  You can’t come to Vegas.  You step one goddamn foot across the line and I’ll blow you sky high.”

His heart drops to his stomach.  His golden city gone.  His goddamn home snatched away like a child’s toy.  Benny grinds his teeth together.  Would it be a waste to put this one bullet in her head?

Yes.

There isn’t going back to Vegas, something told him that the moment he left the courier naked and asleep in his bed.  Once he crossed into Legion territory, once his plans reached the ear of the Chairman via the courier, there was no way he could walk back into The Tops without one of his boys blowing his brains out.  He went behind their backs, lied to them.  He broke rule number one of the Boot Rider code, a code that still hadn’t faded no matter how hard he tried to scrub it out.  He’s back to being a wastelander.  A wanderer.  A nobody.  And Vegas?  Well, he trusts the courier enough to do the right thing.

“Alright,” he says.  “You’ll never see me again.  Scramsville here I come.”

“Great!  Then we’re finished here.  Time to cash out.”

He can tell it gives her great pleasure to say that.  The courier slings her rifle over her shoulder, sticks her knife in her boot, and leaves Caesar's tent for the last time.  He doesn’t move.  He doesn’t know what to do next.  All he’s got is a checkered coat, one bullet, a half empty canteen, and the memory of a golden city in the middle of the desert.  The courier has taken it all from him.  Every moment of pain, every trial, every move he’s ever made has been for nothing.

If Benny were a man of superstition, which is isn’t of course, he would maybe chalk it all up to fate.  But fate ain’t a thing.  There’s the doing and the done and the rise and the fall and this here is the fall and he’s got no one to blame but himself.  A plan ain’t perfect when you fuck up murdering the one person who needed killing the most.  So this right here, this whole fucked up situation, the reason he’s on his knees beside Caesar's detached head, is because he couldn’t do it right.

No more blaming the Courier for his mistakes.  Time to own up, stop being a fink.  Benny knows he could keep crying in the rain over spilled brahmin milk but that’s not the Vegas thing to do, that ain’t the Boot Rider code.   So he stands, shakily at first, his knees wobbling like an old man’s and when the world stops jumping and jiving he puts one foot in front of the other, unsure of where he’s going for the first time in his life.  Benny walks, his city’s lights forever behind him.

Note: This is the first part of a longer story I’m trying out. There is more just not sure when I’ll post the rest.

[notconsolation]

what's a good place to set up a tent my guy?

My guy when setting up a tent you want to consider a few things. The first of which is that I camp without a tent in more of a bivouac/open air style so I’m not an authority on this per say. Also, I’m actually gonna answer this properly cause I like this kind of stuff. So. Here’s what I can tell you.

Don’t:

-settle down on a beach - because the tide - or too close to a river. If you’re close to a river in the mountains you have to reckon with flash floods, even if it looks super unlikely. Safety first. Even if not in the mountains. If you’re somewhere where rain is a thing then rising water level might be a thing and you want to steer clear. 

- settle too close to a lake unless you’re down fro getting eaten alive by mosquitos/horseflies/whatever you’ve got in your parts.

-settle on uneven or sloped ground. just not really a great idea? kinda obvious though.

also in tropical climates (DISCLAIMER: i am a temperate gal and have not actually camped closer to the equator than southern Italy so………. salt this advice like pasta water) if there’s a tree that looks a bit shady (how? idk, just an unfamiliar ass tree) or has bright fruit you might maybe wanna not pitch your tent underneath it cause there are some plants and trees with toxic/poisonous properties where rain falling off the leaves could give you a nasty rash or worse. And don’t set up camp under a coconut palm or something like that, you guys, you’re gonna get hit by a falling coconut and that’s not a good thing to put on a tombstone.

Do:

-personally the most important bit of advice I have (and again, this is because I camp in the northern hemisphere, quite far removed from the equator) is to insulate the ground. What do I mean by that? dead leaves, moss, pine needles whatever. stuff it underneath your tent (or in my case sleeping roll). If you have time and the will to do so you can build up a little wooden platform on which to lie to keep you off the cold ground. I guess this isnt relevant if it’s really warm out. sorry?

- look for a sheltered place to camp.I know the expression is ‘a roof over your head’ and don’t get me wrong that is hella important, but walls are highly underrated - YA Want shelter from the wind, especially somewhere like Denmark where it’s windy as fuck. Anyway, when I say sheltered place that can also be a slightly lower area of the ground (like a little valley or something) if you’ve made sure you’re raised off the ground so that rain collecting underneath you is less of a problem. Preferably, though, look to have at least one side more or less covered by a natural windbreak like a forest, a hedge, a fallen tree, a rock etc (although if you’re camping next to a rock you dont wanna be downhill of it).

- also, personal preference: try to settle in an area where you’ve got things growing you can eat in the morning. I mean this is very specific to my style of travel but I don’t carry much food with me when I hike, so if there’s a patch of blackberries or some wild garlic and dandelion or a field of corn (which you can eat raw btw, heads up) or a beech tree in beechnut season nearby that is A++. 

- and lastly this is, again, not at all about where to pitch a tent (i seem to have gone on a massive tangent anyway so fuck it) but use your daylight wisely. Ya don’t want to be fumbling around in the dark. Save that for sexy times.

CIAO

[locshar]

The White Princess Diaries - Ep 1 Part 1 - No - its not him!!

The White Princess Diaries….Ep 1 Part 1

(Subtitled – No-he’s not in it)

 Welcome, my faithful diary friends.  It’s been a while.  And although our dearly loved Aneurard is now long departed after the combined dastardly deeds of M&S and Henry Chewdor – his memory still lives on in billowy tents all around the land.

 So – now we have a squeakwal – The White Princess.  The story of what happened to Mini Lizzie and all our dear friends after the world ended on 22nd August 1485 (or sometime around that date in 2013…which was quite possibly where a lot of our worlds actually started – remember “Do you love me Anne – and the King?  Get on your horse or I will have you bound and gagged and thrown into a litter…Obviously…)  Sigh!

 Well then – as I know a lot of you can’t see the new Starz version of what may (or probably didn’t) happen after that snowstorm in August 1485 – let me see if I transport you into that world and make you feel like you are there.  If only we could go back – preferably to August 21st 1485 with a kalishnikov)

 Sitting comfortably?  SB at the ready?  Ferrero Rocher on hand?  Let’s go back in time…….

 We are told it is two days since King Aneurard was killed (sob) at Bosworth Field. Cut to Woodville Manor – North Yorkshire where Mini-Lizzie (ish) is staring out over the river. (Ok Ok I know already. Look – lets give Emma Frost the benefit of the doubt and assume that Woodville Manor is in the grounds of Sheriff Hutton – or at least somewhere near Warwick).

 So - still two days after the Battle of Bosworth where the King of Gorgeousness was unjustly not employed to appear in this sequel.  Its more than regicide it’s a bloody crime!  He is no w-hair to be seen.  Not even in flashback.

 Well – apart from some hair (not his) and some skin (not his) then shots of not him being killed in battle with not his armour on – and then killed again for good measure with his armour off!  Why not him was wandering around in snow in the middle of the holiday season without his pauldrons we will never know – despite what Thomas More or David Starkey tell us.

 Back in Yorkshire (snigger) Mini-Lizzie (ish) is looking at her hand, obviously dreaming of wearing a big, stonking Ricardian ring.   A white rose? A boar maybe?  A set of Henry Tudors…...?  But hark….here come soldiers!  But whose? Oh the drama!  Its like waiting to see which well loved character is killed off in Game of Thrones (maybe a slight over estimation there)

 Cut to inside the manor house and here we encounter – all clad in their very best White Company night attire - er – Ex Queen Sisterbeth Woodville – once the witch-queen of England and suddenly her young son, Parkin Warden, has lost the towel he was so fond of wearing and no wonder! He has gone blond – (those bloody Leicester wigmakers get everywhere and I bet he has blue eyes) and now he must be hidden from the nasty Tudor soldiers who are rampaging towards the manor in true Ironclad style.

 Ex-Queen Sisterbeth grabs Parkin - who she decides must to go to Turney……???... (Ok Tournai )– on his own!  And without so much as an Oyster Card!  Bloody hell – he’s only about seven and I didn’t go on a bus on my own until I was twenty two!

 But the soldiers are speaking in best Danish/French/Egyptian (just to reinforce the fact that Chewdor had to import his own flat-pack army from abroad) or something - but they will never find Parkin as they can only smell women.   A handy talent that!  But not one that going to help Chewdor very much.

 Well bugger my doublet!  It’s Stanley! Lord Thomas himself and he appears to have found his brother. Stanley has shrunk and is beardless –well that’s what happens when you have to boil yourself to rid your skin of the stain of treachery!

And with William Stanley is there too! ( where has he been for the last 10 episodes?) Mind you as they both bear no resemblance to the people they were in TWQ - it is no surprise.  They say battle changes you….it certainly changed them! It is a good job somebody kindly let us all know who they were by addressing them by their full names in true TWQ style so we knew who they were/are.  A handy, plot shaping tool.

 Unfortunately, they are going to drag Lizzie-Mini-ish off by the hair to her new bridegroom.  Dear me - lets hope those extensions hold!

 Now the men are off to Wingfield in Suffolk.  For those that don’t understand the relevance of this – all you need to know is that is is probably near Warwick.  (Ok I know where this is going.  Its going to introduce a load of people who were never mentioned in TWQ but are suddenly relevant to the plot.  Yes – there is one…)

 The men are looking for the Earl of Warwick (told you).  Bloody useless all of them.  They need to know that a) one of them is dead and buried in Bisham and b) the other one is in Sheriff…sorry Woodville Manor ….Yorkshire.  Or should have been – but of course he suddenly appears with his sister, who we last saw bouncing on her daddys knee – obviously.

 And so we meet the ‘De La Pool’ family.   There is John de la Olympic Sized Swimming Pool (Senior) and John de la Paddling Pool (Junior).  He, of course, was Aneurard’s heir and in honour of this he has dyed his beard ginger…you know – the colour of Aneurin Bru!  Ah loyaltie never dies!  Good old John!  Where have you been?  (?????) Authors note:  We appear to be now getting to meet so may new people who we never even knew existed before that at this rate we will soon be introduced to Francis Lovell!  You know – the guy that was (or should have been) Aneurard’s best mate for at least six of the last 10 episodes of TWQ!  Him!

 But at least our old friend Duchess ‘Dyson’ Cecily is there  - and she is indeed our old friend Duchess Dyson - but she’s been scared hatless.  That's what happens when one son murders another - one dies after a fish supper and every man in Leicestershire and Wales claims to have struck the blow that killed the last one

However, she has not changed a bit (honestly) only is now sporting a rather splendid York Plait – the medieval version of a Chelsea Bun.   It’s a family reunion with George’s children are there (obviously) and Richard’s sister Elizabeth too.  Now you will recognise her as you haven’t seen her before….

 Ooh now (apparently) it’s Grasper Chewdor!  Well I think it is because frankly he’s a lot rounder and dresses a bit better and has someone with him who uses Rory of Buckingham’s hairdresser.   They have all arrived early for the battle – at least Tudor did because he made himself king from the day before he actually got loads of other people to kill everyone and make him king.  So everyone else is a traitor – nah na na nah nah!  

 Cut to Henry himself at Westminster – for our purposes is am going to call him King Who?- as he looks more like King John than Henry Chewdor (TWQ version) ever did – and I don’t want you to get confused.  Ok?

 He is dressed very grandly.  Obviously he must have paid a quick visit to that well known designer royalty shop “You and Whose Armarni” and picked up a new cloak or two – and good old – not the old – but old - Mad Mags is with him – at least I think it is her – I have definitely seen her before.  It will come to me….

 She has gained in stature now she is Mad Mags Regina – in fact she’s about 1’6” taller so this battle stuff can’t be all this bad as everyone has had a bit of a makeover.  Bosworth Bonus!  To be continued….