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hrina · 4 years ago

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1923, Pt. I - The Day

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: PG (for now) WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: nope

hi everyone! here is PART 1 of my historical AU featuring harry as a groundskeeper/farmhand (i know that those two professions are slightly different but just let me have this ok snfjsjfnsdsf)

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

this series will be composed of three parts altogether, so i hope u all enjoy this first one! as always, please reblog the fics that you like! and don’t hesitate to send in feedback, i promise that we, as writers, always love to witness your reactions :) anywayyyy now that we’ve covered all the bases, go stupid with 1920s harry! can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💌💌💌

~*~

July 5th, 1923

“What if he comes back with a beard that goes all the way down to his knees?”

You snort and shake your head. “He’s only been gone for a few months, Dee. I don’t think it’s possible for one’s whiskers to grow that quickly.”

Lydia shrugs, toying with the hem of her pale blue dress. “What if he met an evil witch in New York who cast a spell on him? And now he’s doomed to live out the rest of his life with horrifying facial hair!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. I don’t think that there are any witches in New York, you want to say, but you keep your mouth shut. Believing in magic is an integral part of childhood—you don’t want to be the one who takes that away from her. Soon enough, she’ll figure it out for herself.

You wind an elastic around your fingers, securing the end of her braid so that it doesn’t unravel. “That’s one,” you say, sighing quietly. “Turn to the side so that I can start on the other.”

She obeys, angling her head to the left. You gather her dark curls in a loose fist, skimming your nails against her scalp to collect every last strand.

Her hair has grown hot, absorbing the heat of the sun. It’s a beautiful day—there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. The two of you are sitting on the front steps of your home, looking out over the paved circular driveway and waiting excitedly for Andrew’s car to pull up to the iron gate. Realistically, you know that he won’t be here for at least another few hours, but Lydia insisted that you unwind outside to pass the time.

Somehow, she persuaded you to fashion her hair into twin braids. And though you had groaned at the initial request, here you are.

“He’s bringing a friend, you know,” your sister suddenly pipes up. “He told me in his letter.”

“Oh, really,” you say wryly. “And who exactly is this friend of his?”

“Martin Russell,” Lydia says, as though she’s reciting lines for a play. “He graduated from Harvard and then built his own company with nothing but a nickel to his name. Drew says that they’re trying to merge and become an empire.”

“An empire,” you echo, humouring her. “That sounds awfully intimidating, don’t you think?”

“Not to me,” she boasts, lacing her fingers together in her lap and squaring her shoulders. “Drew told me that I’m a businesswoman in the making.”

“That, you are,” you agree. You tie your remaining elastic around her second braid, fastening it in place. “All done.”

Lydia jumps to her feet, tugging down the material of her dress and turning to face you. She strikes a pose, placing one hand on her waist and lifting the other above her head. “How do I look?”

“Stunning,” you say, smiling up at her softly. “You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

At that, she frowns.

“I’m not little!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m thirteen and a half!”

“That’s little,” you say, laughing quietly. “Trust me. Once you get to my age, you’ll understand.”

“I’d rather be little than ancient,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. You scoff, bringing your fingers up to your forehead so that you can shield your eyes from the sun.

“Twenty-three is not ancient!” you say, baffled.

Lydia just giggles, twirling around a few times and watching the skirt of her dress fan out handsomely. Once she looks up, however, she freezes in her tracks. Your eyebrows knit together as she extends her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hi, Harry!”

You stiffen, reflexively following her gaze.

Harry is about thirty feet from the steps, crossing the driveway with a heavy bag of soil slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he’s carrying a bucket filled with rusted gardening tools. You had been so caught up in your conversation with your sister that you failed to notice him. He’s making his way toward the pretty garden that separates the entry and exit of the driveway, tucked between the two strips of road and outlined with smooth grey stones.

You swallow forcefully when he pauses at the sound of Lydia’s voice. He turns, and you get a full view of his broad chest, tanned skin peeking out from underneath his white shirt. Brown trousers cover his legs, held up by matching suspenders. His black boots are speckled with dried mud—you guess that he’s just come from the stables in the back.

Upon catching sight of your sister, he smiles and begins to walk over. You shift quickly, trying to focus on something—anything—else.

“Good afternoon, little bug.” Harry’s tone is deep, slow, rough. It sends a shiver down your spine. “You alright?”

“Very much so,” Lydia replies, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Harry, how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” he replies.

Your sister glances over at you, her brows arched high on her forehead. “He’s practically primeval.”

“Dee!” Her name leaves your lips as an admonishment, but you can’t stifle your laugh.

She just giggles and turns back to Harry; he’s smirking slightly, watching your interaction unfold. “Are you going to be planting more roses?” Lydia asks, changing the subject.

“Yes.” He nods. He sets the bucket down and uses his free hand to realign the bag of soil on his shoulder. “Would you like to help?”

Lydia spins around to face you, her eyes wide and pleading. “Can I? Pretty please?”

“You’re supposed to take Artemis out for a ride,” you tell her, pursing your lips. “You know how antsy she gets when she’s cooped up all day.”

“Can’t you take her out?” Lydia asks, clasping her fingers together and bringing them up to her chest.

“Dee,” you start, shaking your head, “you know I don’t—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Harry,” she says suddenly, glancing down at him from over her shoulder. “Have you been in the stables today? Did you see Artemis?”

Harry hums dutifully. His eyes fall to you—you look away.

“And did she seem anxious at all?” Lydia presses expectantly, placing her hands on her hips.

He hesitates. “Well…no. But if you need to take her out, please do. I’m perfectly capable of planting by myself.”

“Nonsense,” she says, waving away his words. She turns back to you, jutting her bottom lip out into an imploring pout. “Can’t you ask someone else to do it? What about Penelope? Or Beth?”

“Beth’s preparing lunch,” you say, scoffing quietly. “Besides, she refuses to work in a messy environment. What makes you think that she’ll willingly go down to the stables, of all places?”

Lydia frowns, blowing out an annoyed sigh.

“Fine,” she acquiesces at last, rolling her eyes. She spins around, hopping down the remaining steps and fixing Harry with an accusatory glare. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes! Don’t you dare start without me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little bug,” he replies, his lips twitching. You watch as Lydia takes off, her braids whipping in the wind as she sprints toward the side of the house. Once she disappears around the corner and out of your sight, you press your palms to your face, sighing loudly.

“She’s too much,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Harry chuckles quietly from the bottom of the stairs; you freeze suddenly, remembering that he’s still there.

“I should—” You clear your throat, climbing to your feet. The light material of your dress tickles the skin just below your knees. “I should probably go. There’s still so much to do before Drew returns.”

You’re lying, of course. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure there is.” Harry nods, running his fingers through his hair. The dark strands curl beautifully behind his ears. You allow yourself to study them for only a moment before diverting your gaze up to the sky.

“It’s hot—are you thirsty?” you ask, squinted eyes trained on miles of cerulean blue. “I can get Beth to bring you some water, if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely,” he says. “Thank you.”

You simply hum in response. Your hands are abnormally clammy when you wipe them across the thin petticoat covering your thighs.

“Right,” you say, chancing a glance back down at him. “Well…have a nice day.”

“You too, miss.”

You pause, fiddling with the satin bow tied at the small of your back. “You—you don’t have to call me that, Harry,” you remind him, shaking your head. “How many times must I tell you?”

“My apologies,” he says, shrugging. “Force of habit.”

“It’s alright,” you say, intent on avoiding his gaze. “It just—it makes me feel as though I’m your—your—”

You break off, uncertain of how to proceed. Thankfully, though, Harry seems to understand. He chuckles softly, bowing his chin in agreement. “I know.”

Embarrassment festers in your chest, creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. You straighten, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat and retreating toward the door. “Lydia will be back soon, I’m sure. Good day.”

When Harry lifts his head again, his green eyes teem with an emotion that is somehow unrecognizable yet familiar all at once. The gruff timbre of his response makes your stomach churn nervously, flipping your breakfast of fresh fruits and toast. You hate it more than anything else in the world.

You don’t hate him, though.

No…you could never hate him.

“Good day, miss. Ah, I mean—” His face collapses into a grimace. He grunts at the thoughtless error, shaking his head. “—good day.”

~*~

It’s just past three in the afternoon when a car horn honks from outside. Lydia’s shrill squeal of excitement follows soon thereafter.

“Drew!” she cries. She rushes into the front foyer, white shoes squeaking against the polished floor. The bottom of her dress is dotted with faded spots of mud, a testament to her time spent in the garden earlier today.

“Dee,” you scold her, frowning. “I told you to change once you had finished planting.”

“Sorry!” she says, though her tone suggests that she isn’t sorry at all—not in the slightest. “Got distracted!”

She grabs your hand, and you yelp when she gives a mighty tug, towing you outside. You dust off the skirt of your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears and staring at the iron gate in the distance—it’s closing back up, metal spines glinting alluringly in the sunlight. On one side of the driveway, a bright red car rolls along the pavement, tires bumping merrily against the ground. Two silhouettes sit in the front; the man behind the wheel honks the horn again and extends his arm through the window, sweeping it upward in a triumphant greeting.

“Drew!” Lydia repeats. She charges down the front steps, her hands outstretched.

“Be careful!” you call after her, gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip.

The sun is still high in the sky. You crane your neck, surveying your surroundings. Heat rises from the driveway in murky waves, blurring the scenery. The large portico that spans nearly the entire width of your home is lined with bushels of potted plants—roses and peonies and daffodils. The lawn is bright and healthy, spearmint-green grass trimmed to perfection.

Something shifts in the periphery of your vision. Your head snaps to the left.

Harry is there, leaning against the corner of the house. He’s still sporting the same outfit as before, except it’s even more sullied, now. You’re not surprised. Gardening is grubby work, but gardening with Lydia…it’s a miracle that he’s not caked in mud, soiled from head to toe.

On cue, Harry reaches for a dirty rag dangling over his shoulder. He grasps the material with strong fingers, lifting it to his face and wiping down his forehead and his cheeks. You watch him closely, fascinated by the thin sheen of sweat sparkling on his skin.

As though sensing your stare, his eyes dart over, locking squarely with yours.

A soft gasp falls from your lips. You clench your jaw, incontrovertibly caught, and quickly look away.

As soon as Andrew steps out of the car, Lydia launches herself into his arms. He laughs gleefully, catching her with ease and spinning her around. He’s dressed in a cream-coloured suit, the collar of his periwinkle button-up peeking out beneath the lapels. His loafers are shiny and brown; a matching hat is perched atop his head, hiding his dark hair from view. The cap makes his ears stick out even more than usual—upon realising this, you smile.

“Look at how much you’ve grown!” Andrew grunts, setting Lydia back down on the ground. He puts his hand next to her shoulder, as though measuring her against an invisible wall. “The last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn you were only this tall.”

She beams before standing on her tiptoes and poking at his chest. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be gone for so long next time!”

“Touché,” he chuckles, nodding in assent. His fingers find the ends of her braids, fiddling with them absentmindedly. “And who’s responsible for these pretty things, hm?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question,” you interject, making your way down the steps.

Andrew looks up at you and grins widely. You hold out your arms as you approach, and he accepts your invitation with a happy call of your name. He’s tall—a few inches over six feet, if you had to guess. You hug him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder and flattening your palms against his back.

“You look very handsome,” you tell him when you break apart. “I like this colour on you.”

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you? I was on the fence about it, truthfully.”

“You shouldn’t have been—it looks good,” you assure him, smoothing your knuckles over his collar. “What took you so long? You’re late.”

“Stopped off at the cemetery to visit mum and dad,” he explains. “Changed their flowers, too—calla lilies, this time.”

You nod grimly, pursing your lips. “Mum’s favourite. Excellent choice.”

One of the car’s doors slams shut; the noise pulls your attention away from your brother. You peer past him, eyes landing on the man who has just exited the passenger side of the vehicle. His skin is a fair shade of olive, complimented beautifully by the beige jacket slung over his shoulders. Checkered brown pants cover his legs, and he’s clutching a sturdy briefcase in one hand. Andrew retreats, keeping a palm on the small of your back as he leads you over to his companion.

“Girls,” he says, tipping his cap, “this is my business partner, Martin Russell. Martin, these are my sisters.”

Martin bows his head. “Lovely to meet you both.”

“Are you tired, Mister Russell?” you ask. “It’s been a long journey, I’m sure.”

“I’m quite alright, miss, thank you,” he replies.

You don’t miss the way his amber eyes trail along your figure as he straightens up. You step back before you even have the chance to register what you’re doing.

“Hello!” Lydia—much to your relief—butts in, grabbing Martin’s hand and shaking it frantically. “I’m Lydia. Say, how would you describe your time at Harvard? Did you enjoy it? Was it a lot of work?”

Martin chuckles nervously, taken aback by your sister’s blathering. “Er,” he starts, “I—”

“Dee,” Andrew says, snickering quietly. “At least let the man get settled in before you begin interrogating him.”

“Sorry,” Lydia mumbles, shrinking away.

“That’s alright,” Andrew says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to chat with him over dinner tonight, won’t you? Is it true that Beth is preparing my favourite?”

Your sister beams and nods. “I asked her to!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Andrew smiles. He looks up at the house, his forlorn gaze running over the plethora of pale bricks and clear windows. Abruptly, he pauses, squinting and lifting his fingers to shield his face from the sun. “Is that…?”

Your blood runs cold.

Andrew raises an arm high above his head. “Harry!”

And suddenly, staring down at the ground becomes your most pressing concern of the day. Harry makes his way over, a mountain of handsome grime. It’s unfair, really, you think. How does he manage to look so fetching, even beneath a thin layer of soot?

“How have you been?” Andrew asks, surging forward and shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Harry replies, grinning. “I’ve been alright. Keeping the garden tame, keeping the stables clean.” He tosses a pointed look in Lydia’s direction. “Keeping this little bug out of trouble.”

“Hey!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry just chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Andrew says, nodding in satisfaction. “It’s nice knowing that there’s still a man around the house to take care of these two.”

You bristle at his words, scowling in mock-offense. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“I know.” Your brother shoots you a mischievous wink, and only then do you realise that he’s merely trying to get a rise out of you. You roll your eyes, though you can’t quell the fond smile that creeps onto your face.

“Let’s go in,” you suggest. “You can say hello to the rest of the staff, and then we can all wash up before dinner.”

Andrew hums in agreement. He tilts his head to the side, attention fixed almost exclusively on Harry. “You should come, H,” he says swiftly. “It’s been too long; we need to catch up.”

“Drew—” Your shoulders tense, and your nostrils flare. “I don’t think—”

“I’d love to,” Harry interrupts. He hooks his thumbs beneath the straps of his suspenders. “Thank you for the invite, Drew.”

“Of course.” Your brother nods before turning back to Lydia and Martin. “Shall we, then?”

The three of them push between you and Harry, climbing up the steps and disappearing through the front door. Inside, your sister unleashes a stream of fleeting questions: What’s it like in New York? Are the people nice? How was the food? Did you see the Statue of Liberty?

Gradually, her inquiries fade away. You stand there, chest inflated with a held breath and fingers fidgeting anxiously with the skirt of your dress. The sun beats down against the crown of your head, triggering a mild fit of dizziness.

Or maybe that’s just Harry.

“So…,” he begins, blowing out an awkward sigh. “What shall we be eating tonight?”

You scoff, unable to help yourself. “You accepted the offer without knowing exactly what it was?”

“Should I know?”

You swallow heavily, pinning your gaze on the scarlet vehicle still parked only a few feet away. “Minestrone,” you say. The word is clipped. “Drew loves it.”

“I’ve had it,” he tells you. “Beth always saves me a bit if there’s some left over.”

You nod wordlessly.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, digging his hands into his pockets. You’re so taken aback by his question that your head snaps toward him, brows cinched together in confusion.

“What?” The question falls from your lips before you can blink. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You won’t even look at me,” he hums, shrugging casually.

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“Not before, you weren’t.”

“I—” you break off, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut. You pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers, trying to keep yourself composed. “I have to go.”

“As do I.”

“Right.” You avoid his gaze. “Goodbye, then.” You whip around, hurrying up the steps.

“Goodbye,” Harry replies from behind you. The smile in his voice is painfully conspicuous. “See you at dinner.”

~*~

You’ve just pinned a final clip into your hair when Lydia comes barrelling through your bedroom door with no warning whatsoever. You’ve long since given up on reprimanding her for it. She always forgets to knock.

“Can you button me up?” she requests, spinning around and exposing her bare back.

“Did you run down the hall like that?” you ask, laughing at her eccentricity.

“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry—I made sure that the coast was clear.”

“Brilliant. Your reconnaissance skills are truly a sight to behold.”

She scoffs, smiling at you from over her shoulder. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Patience, Dee,” you say. You turn back to your own reflection, twirling your finger through a loose strand of hair and letting it fall picturesquely against your temple. “There.”

Her feet scuffle absentmindedly against the floor as you approach her. She’s wearing a pastel pink dress with short, puffy sleeves that cinch at her skinny biceps. The bottom hem of her petticoat tickles her knees, which strain against transparent white tights. You remember wearing something nearly identical when you were her age. The outfit isn’t a hand-me-down, though. The stitching is brand-new, and the fabric is crisp and fresh, like it’s never once seen the inside of a washtub.

“It’s nice having Drew back home, wouldn’t you agree?” you ask your sister. She squeals when the nail of your index finger ghosts playfully up her spine.

“It is,” she concurs as you begin to fasten the clasps at the small of her back. “I’ve missed him terribly.”

“So have I,” you hum, pressing your mouth into a thin line. “There are some things that I could do without, though. Like that comment he made about us not being able to take care of ourselves.”

“He was only teasing,” Lydia says. “You know that. Besides—” She shrugs, puckering her lips idly. “—he was right. Harry does take care of us, even though we may not always need it.”

At that, you pause.

“‘Harry takes care of us’?” you parrot, your brows knitting together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she starts, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Who trims the lawn and tends to the flowers early in the morning? And who cleans out the stables when they get messy?”

“We pay him to do those things, Dee,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It’s his job.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees. “But he does so much more, don’t you think?”

You say nothing. She takes your silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“For example,” she says—declares, “he never gets irritated with me whenever I prattle on about my day.”

“Oh.” You smirk. “So you are aware of your tendency to talk too much.”

“Not funny,” she deadpans. You giggle.

“He always lets me follow him around whenever I get bored,” she adds, her eyes glazing over. “And he likes to make sure that you’re alright, too.”

Your fingers fumble with the last button at the top of her dress. You pray that she doesn’t detect the sudden blunder. “How so?” you probe, trying to keep your voice level.

“You know,” she indicates, even though you most certainly do not. “Like today, as we were planting the roses. He asked me how you were doing—if you were eating well, if you were getting enough sleep. Those are fairly standard inquiries regarding one’s wellbeing, I’d say. Do you disagree?”

“No,” you murmur, gnawing on your painted bottom lip. “I don’t.”

You finish your task, fastening the final clasp on her dress and smoothing your fingers down her sides. “There you go,” you say softly, your throat dry. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she singsongs, twirling around to face you. She studies you closely, soaking in the black floor-length gown cascading down your figure. “You look beautiful,” she says, her tone sincere. “Martin’s going to be utterly speechless when he sees you!”

A weak chuckle falls from your mouth. “Shall we go down?” you suggest, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the door.

“Yes, please,” she replies. She places a palm over her stomach, features crumpling into a theatrical scowl. “I’m famished.”

You smile.

And as you exit your bedroom with your sister in tow, you realise that she may have been wrong about which man you’re hoping to impress.

~*~

Dinner is full of surprises, many of which present themselves in the form of Martin Russell. It’s astonishing, you think, because the man who had barely spoken ten words upon first meeting you is now commanding the table at which you’re sat. Andrew is perched at the head, with Martin just off to his right. Lydia is next to him, and you’re directly across from him. And that means that Harry…

Harry is right next to you.

You do everything in your power to avoid looking in his direction. Thankfully, it proves to be easier than expected, considering the fact that Martin has been droning on about his company for the past fifteen minutes. You don’t believe that anyone else has managed to squeeze in a single word.

There’s wine, candles, and the finest china your family owns. But all of that pales in comparison to the man sitting beside you.

Harry cleans up exquisitely. Upon first entering the dining room, you were shocked to find him in a black tuxedo with a white bowtie resting just below his throat. It appears that he even combed and gelled his hair, though some strands have fallen free from the style and now hang down over his forehead. You don’t mind it, though—if anything, it’s a hint of the man you know peeking through. And the man you know is handsome—alarmingly so.

Drew had whistled as you descended the stairs. He then offered you his arm, patting your hand and telling you that you looked wonderful. Martin hadn’t been able to control his reaction, his eyes raking up and down your figure like you were a lavish meal on a silver platter. It had taken everything in you to hide your distaste.

But Harry…

Harry hadn’t said a word. He’d fixed his face perfectly, showing no sign of emotion whatsoever. You’d been hoping for something—anything—indicative of his opinion toward your outfit, but you observed no such consequence. He’d only acknowledged you with a curt nod before settling into his chair and pointedly looking away.

And now, here you are—a bowl of minestrone in front of you, a wineglass inches away from your lips, and an irritated groan simmering on the back of your tongue. Martin’s voice is growing more and more irksome by the minute.

“And then, it was as though they couldn’t get enough—”

“I had assured them that I would bring in at least twice the revenue—”

“It was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it—”

You polish off the rest of your wine, reaching across the table for the half-empty bottle. No one notices as you pour a bit more of the alcohol into your glass, sneakily surpassing what would be considered appropriate for a lady to consume. You set the bottle back down with a silent huff, lifting the goblet to your lips and letting your attention wander.

You freeze when you catch Harry staring at you out of the corner of his eye. The edges of his mouth are curled up ever-so-slightly, nearly imperceptible. Heat rushes to your cheeks; you gulp down a large sip of wine, averting your gaze.

You deposit your drink onto the pristine white tablecloth, glaring intently at your food. You can feel Harry’s playful stare burning a hole into the side of your head; you suspect that he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

Your soup has cooled substantially. You shovel a spoonful past your lips, swallowing it with a considerable amount of difficulty. Everyone else has nearly finished their dinner, save for Martin. You want to thrust his face into his bowl—maybe then, he’ll finally shut up.

You lift your wine back up to your mouth. The action draws Martin’s focus. His eyes flit down to your minestrone, and then jump to the other empty dishes around the table. At last, he seems to realise the disparity between your meals, because a small, sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“Lord,” he chuckles, settling into the cushion of his chair. “You all must’ve been ravenous. I’ve hardly touched my food.”

“It’s hard to eat whilst boasting, I’d imagine,” you mutter into your glass.

A loud, hacking cough breaks you out of your little bubble. Your head snaps to the left. Harry is choking on his own wine, chiseled cheeks growing red with exertion. He curls his fingers into a firm fist, pounding a few times on his chest to dislodge the liquid stuck in his windpipe. Reflexively, you place a hand on his arm, your forehead wrinkling in concern.

“You alright, H?” Andrew asks, leaning forward over his plate.

“Fine!” Harry croaks. He makes an indiscernible gesture with his hand, waving your brother’s worries away. “I’m fine, thanks. Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.”

He coughs again, burying the sound into the crook of his elbow.

You watch him with troubled eyes. When your gazes lock, only then do you realise that your palm is still splayed out over his bicep. You pull away quickly, recoiling as though you’ve just passed your knuckles through an open flame. Harry’s body rumbles as he clears his throat. He hooks two fingers into the collar of his button-up, loosening it from where it’s secured tightly around his neck.

Lydia is talking, now, but her declarations fade into the background. You wish that you could concentrate on them—you really do—but you have more far more pressing matters at hand.

Like Harry shooting you a swift, secretive smile, and every piece of the puzzle clicking perfectly into place.

His unassuming sip…your quiet quip…

He’d heard you.

You sit back in your seat, your ears ringing. Harry places one of his hands on the wooden arm of his chair; his knuckles flex painstakingly. Across the table, Andrew and Lydia have resumed their lively conversation. Martin scarfs down the rest of his soup, trying to catch up. The candlesticks perched between your plates melt slowly, a mess of waxy dribbles and drops.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you become aware that—for the first time tonight—no one is paying you any attention. The realisation makes you feel giddy, drunk on power and anonymity.

Or maybe that’s just the wine.

You peer down at Harry’s nails, studying them absentmindedly—they’ve been scrubbed clean.

And before you can even begin to register what on earth you’re doing, you reach out, tracing the veins on the back of his hand with one finger. Harry tenses; his concentration immediately falls to where you’re touching him. When you finally muster enough confidence to meet his gaze, you find him watching you with wide, awestruck eyes.

A small part of you is smug—that’s the reaction you’d been searching for at the beginning of the evening. That’s how you’d wanted him to look at you when you made your entrance, wrapped up in a pretty black gown and layers of opaque red lipstick.

You cease your movements and retract your arm, tucking it back against your side as you turn your interest elsewhere. In the periphery of your vision, Harry has pinned you with an unwavering, stunned expression, his body rooted in place. Despite the rapid thumping of your heart, you keep your gaze trained ahead and your chin held high, pride swelling in your abdomen like a hot-air balloon.

Lydia laughs at something that Andrew says. Martin tugs haughtily at the lapels of his suit. You release a heavy exhale and nudge your bowl a few inches away from your chest, completely sated.

~*~

Once everyone retires to their rooms for the evening, you wait approximately an hour before slipping out. You’re light on your feet, sneaking past Lydia’s quarters and the guestroom that was given to Martin for the duration of his stay. He snores—quite loudly, too. You can hear him as though he’s right next to you, even from where you’re hovering out in the hall.

You make your way down the spiral staircase, heading toward the large double doors leading to the backyard. You quickly tug on a delicate pair of slippers before sneaking out into darkness’ cool embrace. Midnight is only a few minutes away.

You pull your wool cardigan a bit tighter around your torso. The hem of your silk nightgown is shorter than that of a standard dress. The wind nips teasingly at your knees, making you shiver. Blades of grass tickle your ankles as you march toward the stables. There’s a single light hanging above the entrance, bathing the wooden panes in a faint yellow glow. Green grass gives way to dry soil and the odd piece of straw littered across the dirt.

Inside the stables, only two of the six pens are occupied. The first one houses Apollo, Andrew’s stallion. His skin is like chestnuts, his mane the colour of the sun. You’re sure that your brother will take him out early tomorrow morning—you doubt that he was able to find many docile steeds in the bustling streets of New York.

You bypass Apollo completely, stopping in front of your horse—Artemis.

She’s a sight to behold, white skin and jet-black hair. She reminds you of the first snowfall of the season: crisp and pure, untainted by footprints and pollution and everything else in between. She’s been your partner in crime for the past decade, even though you’ve spent the last few years simply guiding her along with your feet on the ground and a hand tangled in her reins.

Somewhere beneath the rational layer of your brain, you like to think that she sympathizes with your hesitation to get back on the saddle.

“Psst!” you hiss, leaning against the wooden gate of her pen. “Artemis! Come here, my love.”

She lifts her head up from the floor, chewing on a handful of hay. You dig your fingers into the material of your cardigan, producing a sugar cube from the depths of your left pocket. Artemis’ nostrils flare as you hold it out in your palm; she trots over happily, drawn to the sweet treat.

“Haven’t come to visit you in a few days,” you murmur as she dips her mouth against your hand. You stroke your knuckles down the side of her neck, petting her softly. “I’m sorry about that. Things have been so chaotic back at the house. I’ve barely gotten a moment to breathe.”

She whinnies quietly.

“Did you miss me?” you ask. When she nuzzles her nose into your arm, you smile. “I missed you, too. I thought that maybe you were developing a preference for Lydia. But that’s not possible, is it? I’m your favourite.”

Someone clears their throat from behind you. You gasp and whip around, hands flying to your chest. Your gaze locks onto an amused smirk and a pair of impish green eyes, and your stomach lurches uneasily.

“Hello,” you stammer, air caught in your lungs.

“Hello,” Harry replies.

He’s still dressed in his attire from dinner, though his appearance is significantly more relaxed. He’s abandoned the white bowtie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, allowing his collarbones to peek out from beneath the pallid fabric. The cuffs of his suit have been rolled up, and his hair has completely fallen from its acute coif. Glossy strands tumble down around his temples, curling in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch them.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. You hope that he doesn’t hear the twinge of embarrassment in your voice. He caught you in the middle of a one-sided conversation with your horse, after all.

Harry holds up his hand. There’s a pale pink envelope clutched between his fingers.

“Post,” he says, like it’s the only reasonable explanation. It is, you suppose. “I was on my way home when I spotted you.”

Home. The little cottage just down the trail—the groundskeeper’s residence. It was built years ago, only a few acres away from the main house. You pass it sometimes when you take Artemis out for a walk. More often than not, you’ve found yourself studying its red bricks and white windowsills, yearning for a peek inside.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, wrenching you from your thoughts.

“Yes.” You nod, blinking twice. “Your letter—,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “—who is it from?”

And you immediately want to sink into the earth, because it’s none of your bloody business, is it? You have no right to be poking around and questioning him about his personal life. A slight grimace tugs at the corners of your lips, smearing a pained expression across your features.

But Harry just hums, unperturbed by your inquiry.

“My sister,” he tells you, shrugging. “She writes to me from Paris.”

He has a sister?

“Paris,” you echo dumbly. “France?”

His lips twitch. You want to set yourself on fire.

“Does she like it?”

“I think so,” he says, watching you with twinkling eyes. “She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m—” He hesitates, looking away. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

And though he hadn’t let the words slip out, you know exactly what he meant to say.

She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m stuck here.

A pang of guilt ricochets through your chest. Blood thunders in your ears as you direct your attention to the ground, kicking at the dirt below your slippers. You suddenly realise that whilst Harry is fully clothed, you’re dressed in nothing but a flimsy silk nightgown. You wrap your arms around your torso, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your knuckles.

“Er—”

You glance up at Harry when the awkward noise falls from his mouth. “Yes?”

He lifts his chin and gestures toward Artemis, who has returned to her tasty pile of hay. “She belongs to Lydia, does she not?”

“No, actually,” you reply. “Lydia takes her out, typically, but…she’s mine.”

“I see.” His face renders an innocent type of curiosity, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “Do you ride?”

You balk, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I beg your pardon?”

And just like that, the innocence is gone. Harry’s features melt into a portrait of wicked mirth. His irises glint roguishly as he fixes you with a shrewd, crafty smirk.

“The horse,” he says slowly, his tone ripe with amusement. “Do you ride?”

“Oh,” you croak. “Sorry, I—”

Your nostrils flare as you avert your eyes, too humiliated to meet his gaze. He’s aware of the way in which you interpreted his question. He understands why you were so appalled. He knows exactly where your mind went.

“No,” you answer quickly. “I don’t. Not anymore, at least.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, confused.

“How long has it been?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mount.”

“I stopped a few months before you came to work for us,” you say, playing with a loose thread hanging from your cardigan. After a beat of silence, you add, “There was…an incident. I fell.”

“Oh.” He recoils slightly, taken aback by your revelation. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.” Your feet scuffle against the dusty ground. “Sometimes, I catch myself longing for it, but I just—” You shrug. “I can never seem to get back on.”

“I understand.” His response is excruciatingly sincere.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He takes an experimental step forward, gauging your reaction. When you don’t make a move to retreat, he does it again. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he draws nearer, and your heart stutters beneath your ribs when he angles his body to the side, offering you his arm.

“May I walk you back?”

Is there a hint of fondness in his voice, or is it merely your imagination?

“You may,” you concede weakly.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and bid Artemis goodnight. The two of you stroll back up to the estate in silence, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. The wind whistles through the thicket of trees lining the edge of the property. Crickets chirp loudly, seeking shelter between blades of grass. Harry’s body is unbelievably warm, radiating heat despite the slight chill carried by nightfall.

You release his arm once you reach the steps of the back porch. He studies you carefully as you climb the first two stairs, a divot digging into the space between his brows.

All of a sudden, you pause, brought to a standstill by an invisible string. You spin back around, looking down and finding a pair of bright jade eyes in the dark.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you say softly, hands dropping to your sides.

Quicker than a bolt of lightning, he seizes your fingers between his. A faint gasp leaves your mouth when he bows forward and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Harry peers up at you innocuously, pulling his lips away from your skin after a long moment of stillness.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says. The words flow over you like molasses, viscous and warm and inconceivably sweet. “Sleep tight.”

~*~

PART II: The Week

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #there's not a single curse word in this fic holy shit.............i think this is a first for me snfsjsdnsfsjfsn #ANYWAY i hope u like it!!!!! i'll be here if yall wanna chat after lol #farmhandrry #harry writing

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friendofhayley · 4 years ago

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In the midst of chaos, it’s healthy to sometimes soothe ourselves with fiction so thank you, fic writers, for providing us with a safe space. Anyway here’s a list of the best fics I read this month. This rec includes 18 fics from Game of Thrones, One Direction, Teen Wolf, and The Witcher fandoms. The starred ones are *special*

Sanrion (Game of Thrones)

1. A Change of Fate by TheTruffalo | time travel fix-it fic - slow burn - BAMF!Sansa - all the unexpected friendships - 119k+

What would happen if Sansa Stark travelled back in time to the beginning of Game of Thrones? How would she change the future? With her knowledge of the future, marriage to Tyrion Lannister, allegiances to the Targarian Dynasty and lets not forget her tutelage under the notorious Lord Baelish, what will she change? She is not a Little Bird this time, no, now she is a wolf. This time she will come out on top. The question is, who will she bring with her and who will be the collateral? It is all in the days work when playing the Game of Thrones; and she has learned from the best.

2. *The North Remembers* (series) by K_R_Closson, tasalmalin | BAMF!Sansa - the revenge tastes so sweet - time travel fix-it fic - more action than romance - 3 parts

When Sansa and Theon flee Winterfell, they encounter someone who can give Sansa a chance to start over. Sansa has to determine what she can change and what she has to accept to get a future she wants.

Larry (One Direction)

3. haunted by the ghost of you by @missandrogyny | real estate agent Louis - angst and fluff - memory loss - enemies to friends to lovers - 49k

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

4. I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works | enemies to lovers - rough sex - unrequited love - Louis is such a bottom brat - 39k

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

5. thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in by @absoloutenonsense | friends to lovers - heavy mutual pining - misunderstandings - fluff and angst - 52k

Harry’s alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam’s latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis’ financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

6. *What’s It Gonna Be?* by @shesarealphony | GOD TIER FIC - based on this music video - there are lesbians!! - gay found family !! - 35k

Louis and Bebe, best friends since childhood, have crushes on two of the most popular kids in school, and in an attempt to increase their respective chances, Louis befriends Harry Styles, quarterback of the football team, while Bebe befriends Clare Uchima, head cheerleader. Only… the plan… doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Zouis (One Direction)

7. Gravity Always Wins by @writeivywrite | canon - friends to lovers - ot5 - misunderstandings - 17k

The truth is: if they weren’t in a band together, Zayn wouldn’t be friends with someone like Louis.

8. keep you like an oath by @ohnokonecny | strangers to lovers - Louis is a force of nature - American AU - fake relationship - 18k

Zayn doesn’t recognize the man through the peephole, but he looks harmless enough, so Zayn swings the door open, barely able to get out a greeting before,

“Hello, would you be interested in being my boyfriend?” The stranger asks.

“Uh,” Zayn mumbles, looking between the man and the space behind him, waiting for someone to jump out at him and tell him what’s going on. No one does. And the stranger is still grinning at him, blue eyes shining and teeth on full display as he waits. “Who are you?” Zayn finally asks, when the stranger makes no move to give him more information about what’s happening.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

9. hope is the thing with feathers by @shanastoryteller | author wrote Survival is a Talent and you can tell because it’s amazing - first of a series - BAMF!Stiles - alive Hale family - 28k

Then he’s facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There’s Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that’s his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man’s chest so he knows he’s alive, but he’s not waking up.

He shoves away his hood so he can shout, “Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there’s a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!” Nothing, he’s not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they’re having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

There’s a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it’s all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet.

10. Every stumble and each misfire by @everchanginginks | future fic - deputy Siles - BAMF!Stiles - soft Derek - 14k

Stiles hasn’t seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It’s a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek’s return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.

11. Hide Of A Life War by @etharei | BAMF!Stiles - Sheriff finds out - suspense - found family - 26k

The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

12. Pale Skin and Fragile Bone by fakinbrilliance | BAMF!Stiles - mates - don’t underestimate the Hale pack - found family - 62k

Stiles asks Derek to teach him self-defense.

13. *Sweet Buns* by @pantstomatch | omega Stiles - misunderstandings - pining - Derek is bad at feelings - 17k

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

14. The Seven Lives of Stiles Stilinski by @glorious-spoon | angst with a happy ending - pining - time travel - hurt/comfort - 25k

Stiles disturbs an abandoned temple and catches the attention of a goddess of time and fate. When he starts time-traveling involuntarily through the past, he’s not sure if she means it as a curse or a lesson–but no matter when he travels to, he always seems to end up at Derek’s side.

7. *I know that you love me, even when I lose my head* by LunaCapisLupus_22 | amnesia - internalized homophobia - omega Stiles - BAMF!Stiles - 135k

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

15. Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill | SO much angst with a happy ending - slow burn - BAMF!Stiles - PTSD - 70k

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

16. *Not Your Disney Romance* by Rawren (Deshonanana) | THIS IS SO GOOD - the perfect mix of crack and angst - disabled Stiles - mind control - 42k

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack’s alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

Geraskier (The Witcher)

17. Landfall by round_robin | merman Jaskier - soft Geralt - future fic - trust porn - 10k

Geralt spotted Jaskier’s blue breeches neatly folded in the sand by the rock, his boots next to them, doublet unbuttoned and blowing in the wind. Those too blue eyes looked even brighter next to the sea and his heart skipped a beat. “Jaskier,” he sighed. He didn’t know what else to say.

While relief flooded Geralt—Jaskier was alive and well, no evil befell him after Geralt stupidly pushed him away—Jaskier didn’t seem to share his feelings. His lips turned down, shoulders slumped. Finally, he said, “Are you here to kill me?”

18. ‘My Own’ by @valleyofwitcher | creature Jaskier - found family - Kaer Morhen - they’re soft for each other - 43k

Jaskier has been hiding his draconic ‘heritage’ for as long as he could remember. And travelling with Geralt and Ciri, it didn’t seem to be an issue. That is until a notice comes up about hunting dragons.

All of a sudden, everything is thrown into disarray as he has to face feelings and impulses he had been suppressing for years, nothing seems safe anymore. Geralt tries to fix it.

#fic rec #monthly reads #multifandom #sterek #larry #larrie hijinks #the witcher #sanrion #game of thrones #zouis

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kylorengarbagedump · 5 years ago

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Little Bird: Chapter 27 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 26 here. Part 28 here.

Summary: You were having such a good time before you were reminded of what you needed to be doing for the Resistance.

Words: 5000

Warnings: glove kink

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: >tfw you have your husband wear the shoes of your other husband bc you're a slut for a silver-tipped boot

Hello! I just wanted to say I was kind of blown away by the feedback I got for last chapter? Thank you guys so much? If you're unaware, my life has been sort of crazy, lately--if you google Kylo Ren, an article about Fix Your Attitude is currently the first result, haha.

I've deeply appreciated all the support, engagement, and love I've received for my writing. This fic is the apple of my eye, and being lucky enough to have people connect with it and enjoy it is truly THE gift for any writer, at all. I can't thank y'all enough, some of whom have been reading the garbage I crank out for like, 4 years. It's absolutely humbling and baffling, to me.Anyway, enough of my rambling.

Hope you enjoyed the fucking, because, to quote my true love, we're not done yet.

The sun had set. The party had begun hours ago.

You’d remained upstairs during the opening service, the three-course meal, folding and flipping the hem on your dress. The fabric was slippery, soft, a cold creek on your skin--refreshing, liquid relief, filling your lungs with air that had never known enslavement. It was enough to trick you for seconds into thinking that you could slink down the steps without hesitation, find your Commander’s eyes in the crowd, and sidle up to him. Like his partner.

But the lightless loneliness of your room crushed that dream.

A knock on the door, a hammerfist. “The Commander requests you.”

You blushed--your cheeks were tight. “All right.”

Greeting the Knight at your door, you followed him into the hall, down the steps. He didn’t even pay you a second glance, but you’d kept your bonnet and your boots, not brave enough yet to let your hair hang free in front of anyone but Kylo Ren. Descending into the home, the tinkle of piano keys floated through your ears, joined by the babbling of strangers. The reality of it smacked you--you were about to reveal yourself to a crowd in a champagne-pink gown, with your wrists peeking out and your ankles kissed by chiffon. Your heart thumped--thank God you weren’t in space, or you might have confused the heavy pain with an alien ready to burst through your chest.

Following dinner, light in the home was supplied only by strategic white candles placed on hall tables; you felt like a concubine, being led through a castle passage to the king, scurrying with your black-clad escort aided only by tiny flames. He guided you to the piano room, stopping at the threshold, but you were frozen. Just beyond the Knight you spied a few dozen people congregated together, some chatting, a few couples dancing to the music. You couldn’t stand the thought of moving, of entering that room as if you belonged.

But you were a survivor. You did belong. After all, this was Ren’s idea--not yours.

You swallowed, stuck your chin out, the click of your boots resonating up your calves as you crossed into the piano room. At first, you were invisible, an observer--you spied Armitage and Dolpheld chatting with an older, silver-haired man. The rest were faces you didn’t recognize, except for two: Finn and Rey, swaying in rhythm, murmuring to each other under the melody. And then, at the back of the room, almost hidden by the crowd, you glimpsed him--your Commander, staring off into the wall while Johana, serene and smitten, guided him through a reluctant waltz. Something speared your gut. No dress in the world would afford you the ability to earn the space she occupied.

So strange you could envy her position under a man who was the very enforcer of your conflict.

The first people to spot you were Rey and Finn, pausing in confusion as they reconciled your appearance with their knowledge of your role. The next couple noticed them noticing you--and it spread. As if in a recording, each new person glimpsed you and stopped, a slow-pause of shock rippling from the epicenter of your dress. The final pairs of eyes belonged to Johana and Kylo Ren, their gazes searing you simultaneously. Her expression collapsed to something strange, muscles twitching with disbelief, a wave of horror spilling over her face. She blinked, an apparent impulse to tear herself away, but despite it, kept staring.

It was then that finally, crowd parted, you saw him--and the ground opened, a pit of lust swallowing you whole.

Commander Kylo Ren, in leather gloves, tugged at his sleeve, a black velvet jacket cut tight to his frame, open to a brocade waistcoat. A shift of his feet, wrapped in pointed, silver-toed boots, a tapered end to the trousers that were slim against his long, powerful legs. At his breast pocket, a sterling chain hung loose from his lapel, glinting in the candlelight, highlighting the absence of a tie. And his hair, full and thick, brushed his shoulders in raven waves, the crown swept into a loose, soft bun at the back of his head. He captured you in his gaze, paralyzing you, desire dripping from his eyes.

Despite being fully concealed, you’d never felt more naked, more exposed. And you’d never wanted a man more than you wanted him, in this moment, in your entire life.

The tension in the room ballooned, every person looking between you and Ren, and Johana squeezed her husband’s hands.

“So!” The insincerity of her smile bled through her teeth. “I suppose the Commander would like to make his announcement… regarding, uh…” She blinked. “This, uh…”

“The existence of Handmaids is an unfortunate necessity.” Ren’s gaze traveled over you in millimeters, cementing your image to his mind. “Recent rashes of disappearances and suicides threaten this necessity. Experimenting with small allowances--increasing satisfaction with Gilead--may provide us with greater compliance.” His lids fell in a slow blink, his stare met yours again; the glittering ache inside it failed to match his words. “And who better to advise me in this venture than a Handmaid herself.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Johana patted Ren’s hand, like she’d been part of the plan all along. Her attention kept dancing over the details of your dress, as if there was something familiar there. “It’s important that our Handmaid feels loved in our home. A part of our family. We’re so proud of what she’ll be helping to bring other Handmaids in Gilead.” She grinned at you, opening her arm, inviting you into this new family portrait. “Isn’t that right, Ofkylo?”

Every gaze in the room rested on you. You looked to Ren, then to her. “Yes, it is.” Nodding, you crossed the room, face hot as you allowed her to coil an arm around your shoulders and squeeze you just slightly too tight. The guests gawked, murmuring between themselves as Johana’s nails dug like talons into your flesh.

“He’s really so brilliant,” Johana said, gazing up at her husband. He was impassive. “That reminds me!”

She shoved you off, and you stumbled forward into the crowd, catching the twitch of concern under Ren’s lid. Affection and excitement tickled your skin, a buzz at the back of your brain. Being acknowledged as his advisor to the public was somehow thrilling, despite it marking you as complicit in Gilead’s clutches. It wasn’t the position--you had no intention of advising him--more so that for a moment, in his eyes, you’d been someone. You clung like a leech to these hints of his affection, of his acknowledgement of your personhood.

An arm tugged you around, a whisper in your ear. “Meet us in the downstairs washroom in twenty minutes.” Rey’s voice.

You cleared your throat and nodded, disappearing further through the guests, toward the entrance, hoping to escape the attention that swarmed you. At some point, you’d need to find an opportunity to slip away.

“As many of you know, Commander Snoke’s Wife, Christine, is now a Widow.” Johana was ushering some of the Wives forward, their husbands watching them with suspicion. “Many of you also know how my late husband, Moden Canady, died in service of founding Gilead. What I found helpful…”

“Ren lets her talk far too much.” In front of you was the silver-haired man, leaning in to mutter to Armitage. “What’s this Handmaid nonsense he’s going on about?”

Armitage peered over his shoulder at you, annoyingly smug smirk plastered on his lips--you were beginning to wonder if it was a permanent fixture. “Ren’s young and inexperienced. He won’t be around for long. Neither will his plans.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “One might think you’d be the one person supportive of his allowances for Handmaids.”

A flicker of fear crossed his face. “What?”

Johana clapped her hands. “So what I’ve devised is a prayer circle. Here’s how it will work…”

The crowd was shifting, gathering toward Johana, the bustle and music swallowing the cadence of her voice. Behind you, the Knight Templar stood at the threshold, a silent sentinel. Part of you wanted to continue sniping at Armitage. The other part realized that with murmurs of dissent already apparent, you couldn’t guarantee who the Knight was there to protect. ‘

Ren--or you?

You set your jaw, offering Armitage a brief curtsy.

“Excuse me.” The distraction created a serendipitous opportunity to escape. You went to pass the Knight, who blockaded your exit. “The washroom, sir.”

He glanced beyond you, and you followed his gaze. There, you saw your Commander, and heat rushed you again, a tangible longing that whirled like wildfire across the crowd, stoked the both of you, two flittering moths, in its flame. God, he looked incredible--you could devour him, like this, and you knew he’d stormed with that same need since he’d raked you over in your dress.

Ren nodded at his Knight, and the spell broke. Right. You were meeting with the Resistance. Shaking the hunger from your eyes, you realized he had stepped aside, allowing you to pass. With your head bowed, you shuffled into the hall, quick steps taking you to the washroom around the corner, and you escaped beyond the door.

Incandescent mirror lights gleamed on shiny subway tile, stark along the black accents in the floor trim and the polished clawfoot tub at the far wall. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, resting on the sleek ceramic sink, cheeks still glowing. The dress looked better on you under this lighting, the chiffon almost lustrous against your skin. No wonder Ren had been so entranced. The idea pressed your thighs together.

Focus. Thoughts flurried as you anticipated Rey and Finn’s arrival, what they’d want from you, what you’d say. It was true--you’d been a pitiable spy, so far. All you’d managed to do in your tenure for the Resistance was get fucked by and cum on your Commander’s cock (oh, and get bathed in blood and call him Daddy--you shuddered). Something told you that wasn’t the type of subversive action they’d been counting on. At the same time, you felt at a loss for what to do, regardless. He’d destroyed his information cache, and he’d spent the past couple of weeks recovering from injury.

It was frustrating, to feel more hope for your future with Kylo Ren than your future with the Resistance. You seemed perfectly capable urging him toward minor change, but when it came to taking action for the group that actually had your freedom in mind, you floundered, a hapless child.

The door opened, you spun--it’d only been about 30 seconds since you’d entered--and in slid your Commander, eyes trained on you while he locked it behind him. You blinked.

“Comman--”

Ren snatched your hips, spinning you over and shoving you onto the sink as his lips smothered yours. That flame from the piano room roared, drenched in the fuel of your connection, your skin flickering to life. Your fingers dove into his hair, wringing around his luscious waves, and he groaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth, a large hand coming to cup your head, to trap you there, the other coasting up and down your side.

Your legs spread for him, welcoming him, cunt already throbbing in anticipation. For a brief second, you pushed away, running your hands over his velvet chest, taking a moment to admire him, to soak in how absolutely fucking beautiful he looked. Ren did the same, seeming new, somehow, a reverent awe in his gaze, not just feral, but tormented, needing to have you in his arms. His lip twitched, and he kissed you again, jerking you closer, sucking in air through his nose while his tongue swirled over yours.

Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair once more, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, nearly shoving you into the basin as he trembled.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re fucking beautiful.” He flipped up your dress, warm leather smoothing over your skin. “I need to make you cum.”

A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard. Your hips rolled forward, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he’d fit his thick fingers under the hem. The spark of leather-on-skin earned a groan from your throat, and you combed through his hair, meeting the fervor of his kiss.

Ren peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. “So wet for me,” he murmured. “And all mine...” He dragged a slickened gloved finger over your clit, the sensation new and delicious--you quivered, biting your lip. “Only for me…”

You nodded, inching forward, the only articulate words escaping as please, please, please.

“I’ll make you cum here,” he said, “and I’ll make you cum again before the party’s over.” He leaned close, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. “And by the end of the night, the only thing this pretty mouth will be able to say is my name.”

“Oh--” you began, and he plunged into you. “God!”

He snickered. “Wrong name.”

Ren crooked his fingers in your cunt, focused on your flushing face, the tempo of your intermittent gasps, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. A leather thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, the seams tripping over the nub, and you snuffed a whimper in your chest, staring at him. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you saw the outline of his impressive erection straining at his pants. Your hand burned to stroke it, to feel it.

Chewing your cheek, you reached for him, grasping at his trousers, unzipping them and tugging everything down his thighs, length springing free, smacking his clothed stomach. He barely seemed to notice, so lost in the heat of your cunt in his hand. You scooted closer and wrapped your fingers around his warm, heavy cock--he choked, jabbing you deep, forcing a quaky breath from your lungs. Swallowing, you tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes.

He throbbed, twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, and his breath was uneven, tattered from the weight of lust--but so was yours. Ren circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse like perfect poison--a feeling you should never have wanted, but would now die without.

“Christ,” you mumbled, “Commander--”

“We’re alone.”

“I’m your advisor now, though.” You managed a half-smirk. “If we’re caught--I wouldn’t want anyone thinking this was anything more than an official handjob.”

Ren tilted his head, something devilish and dark and amused in his gaze--and then he kissed you again, shoving his tongue past your teeth, canting his hips in pace with your hand. He was smooth and silky and so big--in the back of your head, you couldn’t believe you’d taken all of him--the memory had you clench and groan into him, and his cock throbbed in your palm. The air was humid, thick with sex, dizzying you, shooting static through your skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, “you’re so tight…”

You hummed in delight. “And you’re so hard…”

He eased back, meeting your eyes, both of you slowing to stop as something slammed you in succession, a chasm of greed opening between your bodies. A snap, an ignition--in one smooth movement, you’d released him while his fingers left your core and yanked your underwear to the side, cock thrusting into you with a sweet sting. Ren hissed in bliss, sheathing himself in your heat.

“Yes…” He grappled your hips, encasing them in leather, fucking into you, watching his dick disappear into your pussy. “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” he muttered. “To be my little whore?”

You nodded, mouth dropped in ecstasy, head fighting not to fall back onto your shoulders. “Yes, Commander…”

“I knew it the moment I saw you in this dress, staring at me, pleading to get fucked.” Shuddering at his own words, he groaned, shifting closer, murmuring into your ear. “I want to fill this cunt up with my cum...” He strangled a moan in his throat, pounding you, pinning your hips against his. “I want it to drip down your legs when you walk out of this room…”

“Please...”

To your intoxicated mind, nothing sounded better than dripping with the cum of the most beautiful man on the planet. Desire had consumed you both, his pace embodying complete desperation, a frenzied, urgent need to bring you both to orgasm. Ren’s strokes were rough, painful, incredible, your breath catching up with your brain, the euphoric fullness of his cock ready to fling you to another plane. And then his gloved thumb slid over your clit, beating it in time with his thrusts--you cracked, crying out.

“Yes!”

“That’s right,” Ren growled, “that’s right--you’re mine, you’re mine...” He pressed his lips to yours, short and sharp. “I can cum inside you whenever I want. I can make you cum whenever I want...” He was slamming you deep, panting with every snap of his hips, your pussy hot and slick and pulsing with your oncoming climax. “Cum for me.” He kissed you again, mouth millimeters from yours. “Cum on my cock, little bird. Let me make you whole…”

Rapture numbed you, at the edge of your skin, a typhoon ready to wreck you witless. “Commander,” you whispered, “I’m--”

A knock on the door. Both of you froze, fear puncturing the pulsating swell of pleasure with a wheeze. Your skin crackled, oxygen returning to your blood, and you felt him seated inside you, throbbing at the base, a furious demand to cum. The denial of release snipped your nerves to stubs--and judging by the tension in his jaw, Ren was doing no better. He looked to you expectantly.

You swallowed, cleared the hunger from your throat. “Oc-occupied.”

“Oh.” It was Rey again. Dammit. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We’ll wait for you out here!”

Ren raised a brow. In a way, it was good that in this moment, he was still half-hard, stuck inside you--he wouldn’t get to know who the members of the Resistance were that had dared to show to his installation celebration. You shifted away, but he gripped you, held you there, waiting for you to respond, his stare inspiring sweat at the back of your neck. Unfraid, you held his gaze. He’d said himself that your association with the Resistance didn’t concern him. Even though that had been before he’d taken over.

“Meet me by the annex stairs.” You took a long breath, clenching around the girth of his dick--but he was already slipping free. “There’s too much going on here.”

“Got it,” she said. “See you in five.”

After a silent, awkward moment had passed, Ren tugged you against him, stuffing his softening cock into you, and you squealed. “You’re still meeting with the Resistance.”

“I am.” You wouldn’t let your chin tremble. “I thought you weren’t concerned.”

He considered you, muscle fluttering under his eye. “I’m not,” he said. “You’re fortunate that I’ve spent too much time already away from my guests. Any other occasion would see me hanging them tomorrow.” Pushing off of the sink, he tucked himself away. “Another day, then.”

His brow drawn low, Ren ran his gloved hands underneath the water before wiping them clean. He said nothing, spearing you with a glare before he unlocked the door and stalked into the hall. A slow sigh escaped you, and you wrung the guilt from your heart. His small concessions hadn’t changed your position--he must have known that. So why did he have to seem so hurt?

And your body was still wondering why it hadn’t gotten the orgasm it had been wanting since you’d drank him in. You eased yourself onto the ground, wincing at how swollen your pussy still felt between your thighs, and shook it off, making your way to the stairs.

You found Finn and Rey, posted near the landing rails, and you snuck up to them, head on a swivel.

“I just scouted,” Finn said. “Ren’s in the piano room. We’re clear for the next few minutes.”

“Got it.” You blushed, realizing that they had no idea that just moments ago, he’d been in you. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Rey said, a sly grin on her face. She gestured to your outfit. “What’s going here?”

A tornado in your mind, words you wanted to say: I can’t stop fucking my Commander. I think about him constantly. Together, we drew vines, and when he held my hand, I didn’t hate him. Since Gilead, I’m lost, but in his eyes, I feel found. He wants to own me. Sometimes I want that, too.

Instead, you said, “I’ve ingratiated myself. He thinks I’m so eager to change Gilead.” You snorted. “It’s a perfect opportunity to do whatever you guys need.”

“That’s great!” Rey said. “I knew you had it in you.”

You’d had something in you, all right. “Thanks,” you said. “It was… nothing.”

“There’s rumblings already in the lower ranks,” Finn said. “Some are thinking that Ren staged a coup and got the Knights to cover it up.”

For some reason, your heart sank.

“With how quickly he took over, the changes he plans to make…” He looked between you and Rey. “There’s heavy suspicion. But with Christine’s testimony, the lack of evidence, they can’t prove anything.” Now he stared at you. “You were there. Do you know what happened?”

More words at your tongue: We killed Commander Snoke together. He saved my life. I saved his. We fucked in the blood of Snoke’s men. The water ran red while Ren filled me with cum. The air was soaked with death. I’d never felt so alive.

But instead: “It’s like Christine says. A guard killed Snoke.”

It confused you when it left your mouth.

“Damn.” Rey frowned, crossing her arms, and glanced at Finn. “Do you think he set it up, somehow? Maybe he was working with the guard? There has to be some proof, somewhere that he orchestrated this. He couldn’t have done it alone.”

Just upstairs, in your room, you had the knife--the switchblade Ren had given you, still crusty with Snoke’s blood. It was physical proof that you’d been there, that you’d stabbed him, that you and Ren had lit the match together. You could, in this moment, hand it over, tell them the entire sordid story, begin your own journey toward emancipation. You could watch Ren crumble, and let him take Gilead down as he fell.

A simple choice. It should’ve been a simple choice.

Yet all you could remember was kneeling at Snoke’s feet, Ren’s gaze meeting yours, and the incontestable truth you’d felt there--that against any of the impossible odds in that home, he was choosing you. And that in that moment, for reasons you still couldn’t know or understand, you’d chosen him, too.

“I’ll see if I can find anything,” you said, knowing you wouldn’t even begin to look.

Poe’s words, you’re a survivor, floated through your mind. He was right--you were surviving. But maybe you didn’t really deserve to.

“Great.” Rey patted your shoulder in camaraderie. “This is tough work you’re doing.”

“But look where you’ve gotten yourself so far!” Finn made a motion along his body, as if he’d put on a dress, too. “You’re obviously doing something right. Just keep it up. You’ll crack it.”

You were doing something right, if that something was getting fucked by your Commander in the washroom during his own party celebrating his installation as the leader of a totalitarian government. You’d been doing a great job at that, actually, until the group meant to unshackle you from slavery interrupted you. A shame, that.

“We should get back to the party,” Rey said. “Being gone too long looks suspicious. You head in first. We’ll catch up in a bit.”

You nodded.

The sensitivity between your legs still needed time to disappear, but you were able to make your way back to the piano room without waddling. The piano’s autoplayer was now running through a raucous, jaunty tune--it sounded like Largo al factotum. Not that you were a music expert, but you’d learned enough to know that. Either way, you were thankful for the noise that muffled the sound of your boots as you breezed past the Knight Templar and back into the music room. You tried to weave your way through to crowd toward Ren--even with the Knight here, you felt like every pair of eyes had pinned a target to your back.

You found him in the corner of the room, far from the piano, in conversation (debate?) with Armitage. Johana was at his side, her arms crossed.

“There’s plenty of ways we could be utilizing these precious resources,” Armitage said. “You insist on wasting them on something as fickle as reconditioning.”

“Fickle.”

“Yes, fickle.” He scoffed. “When we already have a fully-trained infantry. What we should be focusing on is building our navy. The biggest threats come from--”

Ren flicked his wrist in dismissal. “The biggest threats come from the West coast,” he said. “California, in particular, has made overt threats toward the Republic of Gilead.”

The chatter of the crowd was dying as the two men traded barbs, focus being drawn to the little corner where you’d hoped to disappear. Largo al factotum entered its second chorus. You’d remained silent, but Johana still managed to spot you. Her gaze darted over your dress again, and she narrowed her eyes.

“What is your goal, then, Ren?” Armitage still looked smug, even in challenge. “England has already made threats to assist the West if we push forward with any sort of idiotic manifest destiny--”

“The goal is to sanctify the rest of the continent.” Ren regarded Armitage as if he were, by any measure, the dumbest person on Earth. “Reconditioning our forces will make it possible for us to expand our reach to the West coast. To crush any opposition.”

“Crush.” The lilt in Armitage’s voice didn’t make sense until you realized, in horror, his attention was on you. The melody soared. It was only after he’d noticed you that Ren finally turned to see you, too. “An interesting word to use, Ren.” He paused, making sure he had the attention of the other guests. The piano pounded a rapid repetition of notes. “What exactly are you crushing by giving yourself a second Wife?”

He’d said it loud enough that the back of the crowd could hear. The piano had paused, a full rest in the music. If you’d been wearing your Handmaid uniform, you imagined your face would have been redder than your dress. Ren’s nostrils flared. And the piano picked up without irony.

Johana shrugged, a tiny smirk on her face. “Don’t be silly, Commander Hux,” Johana said. “Of course, we love our Handmaid… but a Handmaid could never hope to be a Wife.” She looked to Ren. “They earn those positions, don’t they? By going against the Bible?” Now back to you. “Who, for heaven’s sake, would ever want to be married to someone like that?”

Your fingers trembled, and you glanced at your Commander. He hadn’t said a word, but hardly seemed passive. Instead, there was a hint of intrigue in his gaze. Curiosity. Observing you, waiting to see what you’d do. Another rest in the music. You took it as permission.

“Interesting assumption the both of you have made,” you said, a model advisor. “After all, I don’t believe most Handmaids are asking for marriage.” This time you met Armitage’s stare again. “Unless wearing a new dress means you secretly want a life partnership.”

He frowned, jaw tight. “So, will we all be afforded advisors, then, Ren?” he said. “Or is this how you reward yourself?”

“Why would a man who makes no decisions of value require an advisor?” Ren replied.

He raised a hand, beckoning you forward with two leather fingers. The memory of where those fingers had been just minutes ago made you shiver--you obeyed, taking a space next to him, opposite of Johana. Largo al factotum entered its third chorus. Her face trembled with scorn.

“Roles are essential, but not permanent. We see shifting all the time--Angels to Commanders, Econowives to Handmaids, Wives to Widows. A Handmaid as an advisor is no different.” He aimed an empty, solemn gaze at Armitage. You felt tall and safe and disgustingly special. “It should come as no surprise that roles can form by necessity.”

Armitage sneered. “You parade your necessity around like a prized pet.”

“No,” Ren replied. The final patter of piano sailed through the air. “I assumed that you’d have difficulty grasping a new concept. It appears I was correct.”

The concluding chords rumbled, and Johana pulled her lips in over her teeth in what you guessed was unexpected, reluctant amusement. Armitage said nothing, and the other guests muttered to each other--you couldn’t tell if it was in admiration or disdain.

“Further questions about my decision can be directed to me at the next Council meeting.” The auto-player began a sweeter, softer tune. This one you didn’t recognize. The mumbling in the crowd grew to full chatter, and Ren looked to the Knight at the entry. “Ruk. Escort her.”

Before you could move, Ren snatched your wrist, so quick and subtle you weren’t even sure Johana noticed. What she <did notice was him leaning to your ear, whispering over it like sable silk.

“I’m not done with you, yet. Wait in your room. Keep the dress on.”

It took every bit of strength you had to prevent your cheeks from glowing. “Yes, Commander.” You cleared your throat, nodding to him and Johana. “Goodnight.”

Her gaze followed you, studied your dress as crossed to the Knight, her arms folded, eyes shiny. The melody in the room rolled into a slow, flooding crescendo. And as you disappeared around the corner, she broke the stare and turned away, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #glove kink #god I love majima's shoes though #I can't help myself I had to make Ren look hot because I CAN

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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Re the BTD recap: "the prose is still incredibly messy in places" "To be frank, it’s not that I think this is all particularly good… just not particularly bad either." If it's not too much trouble, can I get some concrete examples for why? I feel like I often don't notice this sort of thing, so I want to know what I'm missing. Might help me to be a better writer.

Challenging request, anon! :D I feel like I need a few disclaimers here:

The book is serviceable. It’s just not going to be winning any awards. Talking about how the prose and dialogue can be better isn’t meant to translate to, “This is the worst thing ever written.” Because it’s not.

This is very much a pot calling the kettle black situation. Anyone here has the capability of hopping onto AO3, finding a horribly written passage of my own, and shaking it in my virtual face. So this is likewise not intended to be me standing atop a pedestal going, “Anyone - myself included - could do better.” I often can’t do better because writing is hard.

I’m not a creative writing instructor, thus it’s often difficult for me to articulate why I think a piece of literature doesn’t read well. If you’ve ever, say, come out of a movie with a strong sense of it not being “good” but can’t easily explain why it failed? It’s similar to that. By consuming lots of media we get a sense of “quality” over “badly written” that then informs our reactions to new texts, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to boil that response down to, “See here on page 3? They shouldn’t have done this. Fix that and it’s ‘good’ now.”

Nevertheless, let’s try. I’ll take a passage from the prologue where Sun is facing off against these “goons”

Two glowing clones of Sun flared into existence, one facing Pink and the second squaring off against Green. That left Brown—whom he figured was both the leader of the group and the most dangerous. Why? Because he was hiding the most.

Brown slashed a hand toward Sun. “Take him.”

“Which one?” Green asked.

“The real one,” Pink said. “These are just flashy illusions.”

Sun directed one of his clones to punch Pink in the face.

She blinked and looked more annoyed than hurt.

“That’s no illusion!” Green reached for clone Two.

Sun’s clones were physical manifestations of his Aura, every bit as capable of inflicting damage as he was. But it could be difficult to control them, especially while he was fighting. They were better suited to giving him the element of surprise, extra pairs of hands, or emergency backup when he needed it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t sustain them long, and they couldn’t take much damage, as they drew Aura from Sun himself. If he kept them going too long, or tried to create too many clones, it usually weakened the Aura shield protecting him. But he’d improved a lot with training, and his Semblance was a lot stronger than it used to be.

Sun whipped out his gunchucks, Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang, spinning them as he and Brown circled each other slowly. At the same time, Sun was fighting Pink and Green through his clones. Pink was some kind of boxer, dancing around and jabbing with her fists, which One was managing to block. Meanwhile, Green was trying to grab Two and wrestle him to the ground.

Brown had some kind of martial arts training similar to Sun’s—but he wasn’t nearly as good. Sun leaned back as Brown did a high roundhouse kick; he felt a breeze as his opponent’s booted foot swept past his nose with a lot of power behind it. Sun flicked his right gunchuck to loop it around Brown’s ankle and pulled him out of his stance, hitting him with the closed gunchuck in his left hand. The man took the full blow, but it didn’t even faze him.

Now let’s break down some of the reasons why this passage doesn’t work for me. I’ll work chronologically.

As mentioned in the recap, it’s rather awkward for a PoV character to ask and answer their own questions. Especially when they’re not presented as literal thoughts. The “Why? Because...” takes me right out of the story. It suddenly sounds like I’m attending a lecture or reading an article. Sun believes X. Why does he believe this? Because of Y evidence.

The dialogue is clunky. This problem is admittedly more obvious at other points, but there are a lot of moments where it doesn’t feel like this is a natural thing someone would think or say. Which again, is really hard to write. How people speak is quite different from how we think they speak and finding a balance between that (eliminating most pauses like “um” or “like” that would be too frustrating to read, giving characters more flowery language to serve the story’s goals even if it’s not realistic, etc.) is hard to nail. Here, Sun is often thinking things that don’t sound l like an actual thought in a panicked teen’s head.

Oh crap, Sun thought. I’m losing. How am I actually losing?

It just sounds like exposition. The reader needs to know that Sun is losing! So Sun will tell them that.

The villains, so far, are a bit too cartoony for me.

“You got lucky, monkeyboy,” Green said as he walked off, his companions following him through the cloud of foul vapor. “This time.”

Which is admittedly a matter of taste and does have some justification given RWBY’s early writing (think Roman). Still, it’s hard to take lines like this seriously, especially when we just had the group making fun of Velvet for cheesy quips. But the villain’s quips are supposed to read as daunting?

Connected to Sun’s thought above, there is a lot of telling rather than showing throughout. For example: “She blinked and looked more annoyed than hurt.” There are ways of showing the reader that Pink is annoyed (indeed, just leaving it at “She blinked” would have gotten the point across) rather than resorting to, “She looked ___”. Another good example would be “ Sun leaned back as Brown did a high roundhouse kick; he felt a breeze as his opponent’s booted foot swept past his nose with a lot of power behind it.” You don’t need to reassure the reader that there was “a lot of power behind it.” The action itself - feeling a breeze, his boot passing close to his nose - conveys that on its own.

To be clear, telling isn’t something you can’t ever do (break those writing rules!!) especially when sometimes you just want to be clear/convey something succinctly, but it is something to keep in mind. It’s another balancing act. Too much telling and the reader feels like they’re just being told a list of things to believe. Too much showing and it feels like the writer is trying too hard to make everything detailed, exciting, etc. Still, a good writer is going to be able to convey everything (Sun losing a fight, annoyance, a powerful kick) without feeling the need to remind the reader of things every few lines, “This is what’s happening. Don’t get confused!”

After the fight starts we immediately get a two paragraph info-dump about Sun’s semblance. How it works, what his limitations are, and what that means for this fight. Again, show that! We’ve just started an action sequence. The fight is underway. The reader doesn’t want to get pulled out of the action for another lecture. Rather than hitting pause on the fun stuff to explain things, create scenarios where these details become relevant and can be shown to the reader. Right now we don’t care what Sun’s limitations are unless those limitations become important.

We get another announcement in the form of “[Brown] wasn’t nearly as good [as Sun]” instead of (again) showing us that. Indeed, as I mention in the recap all the action that comes next contradicts this. So where did this assertion come from? If Sun knows that Brown uses a martial arts style similar to his then theoretically they’ve been fighting for at least a few seconds... but the reader doesn’t get to see that. Meyers was too busy telling us about Sun’s semblance.

Finally, there are pockets of Meyer’s writing that are all roughly the same. Meaning, sentences have little variety to them. This isn’t a consistent problem (and it’s certainly not the worst example I’ve seen of this) but on the whole he could use a more engaging flow to his work, both in terms of sentence length and balance among actions, dialogue, descriptions, and thoughts. Otherwise you get prose that reads, “This happened. Then this happened. This happened next. See the length? It’s all the same. Very little changes. And the reader gets bored.” Again, not a consistent problem, but one he should keep working on.

There are a number of other, smaller issues that are beginning to pop up. Such as the in parentheses pronunciation of the teams’ names, or the overuse of “he sent” whenever Fox communicates telepathically. In contrast, there are things about the writing that I’ve enjoyed. There are moments of dialogue - such as Fox’s joke in Chapter One, or how Sun’s instructions to “find Shade” literally refer to the school but also remind the reader that shade, in such a hot environment, is crucial - that I think are worth pointing to and going, “Yeah. That was a nice touch.” Overall though? It’s that, “I just came out of a bad movie” feeling. There’s too much clunkiness throughout. The writing often lacks variety or feels absurd. I’m taken out of the story more often than I fall into it. Is it the worst thing I’ve ever read? Far from it, but fans aren’t wrong when they say things like, “I’ve read better fic than this professional story.”

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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artistic-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Love Finds a Way :: CS Jurassic World AU :: Ch 10

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World. She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape. Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more. Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: We are so close to the end of this fic and I have never had so much fun writing about a dinosaur battle than I have in this chapter! This chapter took me a bit to write because, as you’ll see, it is mostly action with very little dialogue and is a tad longer than those previous, but as ever, I hope you all enjoy yourselves! Captain Cobra feels ahoy! This chapter also leads immediately on from ch 9, so if you haven’t read that one, you can find it HERE Also, pushed a few little easter eggs in there, as found by my lovely beta @resident-of-storybrooke - can you find them too? ;)

Taglist: @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @cocohook38 @sherlockianwhovian @wordsmith-storyweaver@winterbaby89 @kymbersmith-90 @killianmesmalls @killian-whump @nonnyj @jennjenn615 @thislassishooked @searchingwardrobes @doodlelolly0910 @cs-forlife @darkcolinodonorgasm @mariakov81 @xemmaloveskillianx @carpedzem @effulgentcolors @shardminds @hookedonapirate

Please show your appreciation for my writing and artwork by buying me a Ko-fi. If you are unable to do that, then please enjoy it and show your appreciation with a reblog. Or leave me a comment, i’m a sucker for that. Any feedback welcome :D

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The hall was narrow, the three of them rushing back the way they had come, Killian’s boots scuffing the floor as he struggled for balance. The gun in his hand made him heavier on one side, biceps bulging under the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he gripped it and clung to Emma’s hand with the other. He practically dragged her along, Henry completing the human train as he gripped his mother’s sweaty fingers in a desperate attempt to keep up, his younger legs taking twice as many steps to stay with them. The door was in sight. Outside would be dangerous, Killian knew that, but the chances of them remaining alive whilst trapped inside a lab with a raptor who had tasted blood were very much against them.

The shattering of glass made Emma scream and she pinched her eyes closed as Killian tugged her arm a little too hard to stop her from advancing any more. Delta, having finished off her Walsh sized snack and hungry for more, burst through another pane, showering cubes of safety glass all across the hall in front of them. The dinosaur skidded awkwardly to a stop, scrambling for a foothold as Killian turned them all around and pushed Emma and Henry ahead of him, putting himself between them and Delta.

The raptor let out a screech, short and frustrated, something Killian had come to recognize from her as he had raised them. She had always been a bit of a troublesome youngster, too quick to react instead of thinking a problem through like her littermates. Killian used it to their advantage, using the time it took the man-height dinosaur to work out she couldn’t chase them at full speed on the slippery, tiled floor to make their escape. The sound of their feet pounding the hard floor was lost in the thundering footsteps of Delta behind them, both echoing around them as the hall opened up into the visitor’s center main lobby.

“This way!” Killian urged quickly, nodding his head towards the other side of the lobby.

Emma gave Henry another small push, making sure the boy was ahead of them both and running as fast as he could. Delta screeched again, closing in on her targets, and the sound reverberated around them, making Emma’s skin crawl with a tingling sensation. Sweat beaded her brow and the top of her bosom, her skin clammy, sticking the vest she was wearing to her skin. Henry’s hair had stuck to his forehead, adrenaline coursing through his body, but even though his vision was slightly cloudy from the room whizzing past his as he ran, his mind was as sharp as ever.

The middle of the room was where the visitor center had a holographic interactive dinosaur learning computer. Users needed to push a button to engage the learning module, complete with a life sized holographic version of the dinosaur they had chosen. As they ran passed it, Henry slapped an open palm to one of the glowing buttons, hoping, praying, that it would buy them some time. After a millisecond, the computer beeped and a full sized Dilophosaurus sprang up behind them, causing Delta to crane her neck back as she slid to a stop just in front of the dinosaur now in her path.

The hologram hissed, its neck frill flaring in aggression, something that since the first park opened, scientists had proved to be false. Henry ignored the inaccuracy because it had worked, Delta rearing and giving a screeching cry at the shaking dinosaur in front of her, claws ready to swipe as she began to circle sideways. The hologram didn’t move, repeating the hissing action as a narrator talked from the speaker behind it. Delta let out a roar, jumping at the intruder who dared interrupt her hunt, only to come out on the other side of the blue shimmer confused. She spun on her heels, attempting the move again but to the same result, giving Killian, Emma and Henry enough time to reach the front doors and slip outside without her noticing.

The heavy wooden doors were rigged to close behind them, so Killian led the charge down the steps in long strides, only to rush head first into another of the raptors. Blue, with her distinctive coloured stripe down her neck and body, was standing to full attention in front of them, eyeing the man she saw as Alpha with two morsels. Her yap of excitement told Killian she was keen to share his spoils, thinking that he had brought her food, so he put himself between her and Emma and Henry, puffing his chest out. He knew it might not do any good, not with the Indominus around, and especially when he heard a bang on the doors behind them and Delta appeared at the top of the staircase in search of her lost quarry.

She roared, moving down the steps slowly, deliberately, eyes with slit like pupils fixed on Henry. Killian turned to her, towering over Emma and Henry as he stared her down, reducing her cries to nothing more than a hiss as she circled them with her blood stained maw still dripping with her last meal. Killian’s grip on the gun tightened even more, his fingertips turning white as he instinctively lifted an arm to try and hold the raptors back, a move he would forever be weary of around Delta, but still hoping they understood his gesture.

The high pitched screech of a third raptor made Henry cry out, his small body bumping into his mother’s as Echo appeared beside them, her sandy coloured tiger like stripes almost flashing brighter with her excitement at finding prey. She took a step towards them, Killian watching her out of the corner of his eye and Emma and Henry huddled up behind him, the gap between them and the three raptors becoming ever smaller as the reptiles formed a circle around them.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be, eh, ladies?” Killian said softly, keeping eye contact with Blue. Even after all the times he had been there for his girls, fought to keep them as wild as he could, he would never fault them for simply being themselves. If they tore him limb from limb, he would never blame them. It was their nature, a nature that man had no right trying to tame.

The beta raptor growled, the sound in her throat more than anywhere else as she took a step towards the three of them. Delta and Echo were in attack formation, closing in on both sides, so there was no escape. Blue made an odd crackling sound again, her pupils dilating and her eyes flashing in the overhead lights as Killian slowly leaned sideways to put his gun down. The muzzle touched the ground first and without breaking eye contact with his beta, Killian let the barrel slide along the pavement until he had no choice but to drop the gun the rest of the way. The stock hit the floor with a clattering sound and he righted himself, face to face with Blue.

She had calmed somewhat, seeming to have her own internal conflict about the situation laid out in front of her. Her sisters cawed and screeched, eager to sink their teeth into what they saw before them, but they wouldn’t until Blue gave the word. And Killian knew it. His face was so close to Blue’s that each time she breathed, the hot, putrid air from her nostrils fogged his face. She blinked, a small affectionate grunting noise coming from the back of her throat as she simply watched her Alpha, a silence falling between them that made Emma start to shiver and sweat even more than the humidity had made her already.

Killian closed the gap even more, slowly raising his hand, trying to abstain from shaking. Blue’s lips curled back in a low growl of warning, her eyes flicking towards his hand as Killian moved it higher still, almost touching her snout. Blue snapped, not really meaning anything by it other than another warning that Killian promptly ignored.

“There, lass,” he whispered smoothly and Emma wondered how his voice managed to remain so even. “Easy.”

Blue snorted but allowed his advance. Killian watched her, knowing that he would have no time to respond now if she decided to change her mind about being amicable. He lifted his arm a little higher, moving to the back of Blue’s head, her beady eye swivelling in its socket as his palm made contact with the ridges of her reptilian skin and she let out a human-like groan.

“Easy,” Killian whispered, his words almost inaudible to Emma who clutched Henry to her even harder.

Blue relaxed a little, blinking her eyes a few more times as he growling turned into a purr at Killian’s touch, the approval of her Alpha all she was seeking. Killian’s fingertips reached the lock keeping Blue’s headcam fixed to her head and turned the mechanism towards himself, the click and snap of an opening buckle making Blue rear back a little. Her movement dislodged the head strap and the weight of the camera pulled it free, and it hit the ground with a smashing glass sound.

Blue simply purred again, the offending item now gone where it had previously been such an aggravation. Her eyes softened, subtly, so subtly that only he would have noticed, and Killian’s lips ticked up at the corners as he slowly lowered his arm.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it, lass?” He quirked an eyebrow at the raptor in front of him and Blue’s lips rippled a little, something Killian’s recognized she only did when she was pleased.

They all stiffened when a roar sounded out from in front of them, morphing into a growl. Emma could barely stop herself shaking with fear, her eyes glazed over and fixed on the darkness. The raptors were one thing, but this growl was from something much larger, something more dangerous, unmistakably the Indominus Rex. Her hand wrapped around Henry’s so hard that he winced in pain from her fingernails, not even really noticing when his eyes fixed onto the ripple of water in the puddles as huge footsteps grew louder.

Blue whipped around, her tail almost slapping across Killian’s abdomen as the Indominus Rex appeared from around the side of a kiosk, the strewn chairs becoming a mess of mangled metal under her feet. The ground shook as she stepped forward, long, steady strides than made the ground beneath their feet feel like it was moving out from under them. Delta and Echo both switched positions too, still at Killian, Emma and Henry’s side, but now obediently focused on the much larger dinosaur approaching them.

The Indominus took a few more steps before coming to a stop and letting out a roar, the stench of rotten meat and fish coating them all in a fine mist from her breath where she was so close. Blue reared up, seeming to make herself higher, shielding Killian’s view. He was frozen in place, arm still outstretched as if he could control the huge, part raptor dinosaur just as he could with his own raptors, eyes burning with the need to blink where he was so focused on the threat in front of them.

The Indominus made a chirping noise, the size of her vocal cords making the sound much deeper and almost like a cough, but Killian knew it was unmistakably her trying to communicate with the raptors. More short barks followed, her massive jaws opening just a tad each time, her tails whipping to the side furiously and her claws clenching her hands into spiky fists as she spoke to her kin. Killian wasn’t a stupid man, and after their interaction in the forest, he knew exactly what she was trying to say. When Blue turned to face him with a hiss of her own, it was clear.

The Indominus wanted what Blue had. Three tasty bite-sized prizes.

Killian shifted his weight, inching back a little and letting his arm drop to his side. It wasn’t up to him anymore. Blue let out a series of yips, high pitched and almost like toddler chatter as she took in Killian and let her lips curl. She was trying to tell him something, Killian knew it, but he had never been in this sort of situation before. All he knew was that her eyes were soft, the ripple of her lips along her mouths edge was a good sign, a happy sign, and he had to have faith in her.

He gave her a quick smile and she seemed to understand, blinking rapidly in excitement. Blue was asking what to do, what her alpha wanted her to do, and Killian couldn’t stop the smirk on his face as he blinked, refocusing his gaze on the Indominus, and Blue instantly spun to face the Indominus with a screeching roar. Ragefully, the huge dinosaur roared back, the sound vibrating right through them where they stood, as she lunged forward and headbutted Blue out of the way, sending the smaller dinosaur flying into a nearby concrete pillar.

Blue’s body hit the hard surface so hard that the concrete crumbled like sand, exposing the metal rebars inside the column. Her tail flew out and hit a window, shattering the glass that spilled out onto the floor and created a bed of shards that her lifeless body fell onto. Blue lay still, the brightness in her yellow eyes disappearing as her eyelids closed and she exhaled hard. Killian had to rein in his emotions, turning back to face the Indominus with a renewed hatred for the hybrid as, satisfied with her actions, she took a menacing step towards them.

Killian’s arms flew out to the side and he tried to shield Emma and Henry as best he could, stumbling a little over a crack in the floor as he eased backwards and they moved with him. Emma began to cry harder, a whimper in her voice that he knew she was trying to hide from her son. Henry clutched the back of Killian’s shirt, pulling the material so it felt tight against his shoulder, but Killian ignored it. He stared down the rex, another huge step closer making him seem even more imposing than she already did, when Delta suddenly let out an almighty cry from beside them.

Killian’s head whipped sideways, watching Delta as she squatted low and tensed her claws against the ground. Echo joined in, mirroring her sister and roaring at the Indominus, the sound of the water fountain behind her lost in the sound. They were ready to attack, their claws flexing on their front feet eagerly, whole bodies tensed to the maximum so that every single one of their muscles was visible to their enemy. Killian’s stomach dropped and he inched another step backwards with Emma and Henry, knowing exactly what was about to transpire.

The raptors were asking permission from him, their Alpha.

Killian took a huge breath, steadying himself, before curling his bottom lip under his teeth and then whistling as hard as he could. The sound came out, thankfully, louder than all of the commotion around them, and the two raptors moved instantly. Echo was quicker, racing towards the Indomnius as low to the ground as she could, gaining as much speed as her legs would allow, before leaping into the air with an attack cry and sinking her claws into the side of the Indominus Rex. The larger reptile roared, trying to dislodge the smaller one, but Echo held on, tearing into the Indominus’ shoulder and sinking her jaws into the ridged bumps along her spine.

Delta was quick to join her sister, leaping onto the rex’s neck and digging at the skin there like a terrier, her claws effortlessly slicing through to the bone. With another angry bellow, the Indominus spun around, trying to dislodge her two attackers, disoriented and confused by their sudden mutiny. She tried to reach them, jerking her head backwards but unable to grab ahold of either of them, her claws ripping into her own skin as she changed tactics and tried to pull them off that way.

Whilst the dinosaurs were distracted, Killian saw their opportunity to reach safety, grabbing his gun for good measure. He grabbed Emma’s hand, knowing she would grab onto Henry’s too, and pulled with all his might, racing out of the situation under the tail of the Indominus Rex. Her tail swung around behind them, narrowly missing Henry as she smashed one of the fountains, sending shards of glass and droplets of water everywhere. Henry broke free from his mother, taking the lead and vaulting over the counter of a nearby kiosk, Emma following suit and both of them landing inside with a grunt.

Killian circled around the dinosaur in front of him, her piercing screech tearing through his ears like a needle. He ignored it, lifting the rifle to his face for stability and better accuracy as he looked down the iron sights and pulled the trigger. The muzzle of his gun flashed with orange, the short bursts of bullets hitting the Indominus right where he had aimed, more blood flowing out of the creature as she cried out in fury. The sound of the raptors pulling at her flesh made him pause, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the fact that they were probably too far gone to recall now. He had to be careful, lest they turn on him too.

The Indominus changed her stance, attempting to remove the two dinosaurs ripping into her flesh by dipping low to the ground. Her tail flew up, narrowingly missing Killian as he took shelter behind another fountain, the giant, orange glass sculpture a replica of a mosquito stuck in amber. He leaned against the glass, the material cold on his back, and fumbled with the mechanism of his gun, trying to reload the rifle with one eye on what was going on behind him. He took his eyes off the dinosaurs for a second, unable to reload the weapon without looking, and then looked up to see one of his raptors slide across the wet ground in front of him.

Echo righted herself quickly, almost coming to a stop outside of the small shop Henry and Emma were huddled inside for safety. Henry jumped a little, freezing to the spot he had made into a sort of teddy bear fort at the back of the kiosk. He was scared, but he couldn’t stop thinking, his brain churning over and over with the same thought.

“We need more,” he whispered to himself, counting on his fingers to confirm his thoughts.

“More what?” Emma spun to look at him from where she had been watching Killian over the counter and gave him a questioning frown. Henry nodded, half to himself and half to her, meeting her gaze.

“More teeth. We need more teeth,” Henry said quickly, still short of breath from running.

A moment of confusion for Emma was followed by a moment of realisation. Of course. Henry was right. He was always right. They needed more teeth because the Indominus was full of them, her hybrid status making her more formidable than any other carnivore that had ever walked the earth. There was only one way they were going to defeat her, for good this time, and that was, indeed, with more teeth.

“Stay here,” Emma whispered to her son, grabbing his face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, wiping away the tears stains on his slightly red cherub cheeks. “I’ll be back, I promise,” she nodded. When Henry nodded back, Emma leaned forward and kissed his forehead, sealing her promise with the soft press of her lips to his skin.

Scrambling to her feet, Emma reached for the first aid box on the way. She slammed her hand against the latch, sending the lid falling until it hit a shelf, and grabbing the flare that was inside. She was going to need a little more help for her plan to work fully, so she also reached for the radio that each employee used to communicate around the park, the sound of static hissing from the speaker.

With a short, nervous breath that shook her entire body, Emma clambered over the kiosk counter, ignoring the sound of gunfire and the roaring shriek of the raptor that flew passed her and leapt back onto the back of the Rex once more. Killian watched, his brow pulling together in confusion, as Emma ran off into the darkness, the sound of her heels against the tarmac echoing into nothing as she got further away. He didn’t know where she was going, and he didn’t have time to find out before the Indominus shook the ground with another hefty step towards him.

Killian wasted no time when the opportunity to fire was so obvious, leaning against the yellow glass to stabilize himself and aiming straight at the massive reptile. One, two, three direct hits had her whirling around towards him, but she didn’t have a chance to see him because Echo was back on her, crawling up her back and sinking her teeth into the back of the Indominus’ neck. It was a fatal mistake, Echo’s blood lust blinding her strategy because it gave the Indominus time to reach around and clamp the smaller raptor in her jaws.

Echo’s high pitched shriek was cut short as her life ended, her body falling limp in the Indominus’ maw before she was thrown through the window of another nearby kiosk. Killian wasn’t sure what the kiosk was for, but when Echo’s body hit a still burning gas barbecue style burner, the canister of gas exploded and engulfed the dead raptor in flames. The Indominus spun around on the spot, trying to reach the other dinosaur terrorizing her, and when she whipped her tail into the amber sculpture Killian was hiding behind, it sent him racing for somewhere else to hide.

Chunks of orange glass littered the ground around him but he managed to dodge them in an attempt to reach the kiosk where Henry was already hiding. Just as Killian leapt over the counter, hip sliding against the metal surface and the arm holding his gun held aloft to balance himself, the Indominus managed to snatch up Delta in her powerful jaws and flung her aside like she was nothing. Killian landed in the kiosk silently, crouching down in front of Henry and silencing the boy with a single finger that he pressed to his lips. He cast his eyes sideways as if he could look behind him when the rumbling snuffle of the Indominus reverberated through the air as she searched for more prey.

The kiosk was plunged into darkness, the Indominus casting a huge shadow over the whole area as she walked past. Her growl was different now, somewhat infuriated, and Henry swallowed hard as her huge head and eye appeared in his view. Her pupil narrowed and she let out a roar at having found what she was looking for, the whole kiosk rocking from side to side as she bashed into it with her bulk. Toys and other merchandise tumbled from the shelves overhead, hitting both Henry and Killian, who had tried to shield the boy as much as he could with his bigger bulk.

Killian would die for Henry, he was pretty sure of it in that moment. He wasn’t his boy, but Killian understood what people said when they loved a child so unconditionally that they would be willing to sacrifice themselves for that child’s life. If the Indominus wanted Henry, she would have to go through him. Henry screamed, his voice so high pitched that the sound reminded Killian of just how young the boy was and how real his fear would manifest at that age. Killian cradled him in his arms, trying to cover his view, but when the Indominus punched a hole into the side of the kiosk and tried to claw them out with her scythe like fingers, Henry screamed even louder.

Killian pulled Henry with him as he flattened himself to the opposite wall, bunching the boy in his arms. The rex reached in further, one of her fingers nearly catching Henry’s leg, but Killian was too quick. He pulled Henry closer still, the razor sharp talon just missing the boy’s flesh and scoring a line into the concrete floor as she withdrew it, the sound of Henry’s cries echoing in Killian’s ears.

“Ruby! Ruby, can you hear me?” Emma yelled into the speaker of the radio in her hands. Her voice was jostled on account of her running so fast, and she nearly dropped it a few times, but when she released the button and heard Ruby’s voice return, she was so relieved.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here!” Ruby answered enthusiastically, pressing the one speaker headset to her ear so she could make out Emma’s words clearly. “Hey, where are you?” Ruby urged, eyes scanning the operations room as if Emma was there.

“I need you to open paddock 9,” Emma ordered, feet pounding the pavement as she ran, her ankles aching in her high heels.

“Paddock 9?” Ruby asked quickly, frowning. She slid her wheeled chair sideways to the gate control panel and shook her head at what she was seeing. Paddock 9 was huge, industrially built to house one of the islands main assets. “Are you kidding?” Ruby squeaked, entering the override code but hovering her fingers over the enter button reluctantly.

“Ruby, just do it!” Emma repeated, looking directly at the camera next to the paddock gate that she was sure Ruby was watching. The not so distant roar of the Indominus made Emma’s heart pound even harder in her chest and she gripped the flare in her hand even tighter. “Do it now!”

Ruby dropped her headset, fixing her gaze on the camera footage of Emma. She was dirty, ruffled hair and torn clothes, but definitely powerful as she stood outside the huge metal gates and stared into the camera defiantly. Emma tossed the walkie aside, the plastic device disappearing off the screen as Ruby fought with herself internally. Opening paddock 9 could be disastrous, and she had no idea what Emma was thinking, but she had to trust her. Emma wasn’t just her boss, but her friend, so with a grimace, Ruby touched the enter button on the screen and a siren sounded to warn of the gate opening.

There was a red light beside the gate’s keypad and it flashed and spun around in its little dome. A claxon sounded out and Emma took deeper breaths, hoping the shake in her legs would not hinder her plan in any way. She pulled the lid of the flare, a bright, red flame shooting from the end and bathing the whole area in a glow like a warning beacon. The smell of the flare filled Emma’s nostrils but she ignored it, watching, waiting, fighting her flight response as the four foot thick door rose in front of her.

The silence was broken but the even thud of footsteps, paddock 9’s occupant drawn to the sound of the door opening. Years of conditioning had taught her it was food that came through the door, day or night, saliva dripping from her worn toothed jaw as she made her way towards the red glow in the doorway. Emma stood fast, unable to make out anything in the blackness of the paddock in front of her, the ground shaking beneath her feet and the stench of rotting flesh wafting out of the trees as her fingers gripped at the flare even harder. This was madness. There was already at least one dinosaur full of teeth running free on the island, but the sound of rumbling breath told Emma it was too late to go back now.

She was here.

All Emma could see was darkness were two tiny pinprick glows that approached the light she held in her hand, growing bigger with each step the dinosaur took, its eyes reflecting the flare in the darkness. Emma, frozen to the spot, watched as, out of the darkness, a Tyrannosaurus Rex approached her, eyes fixated on the flare in her hand. When the dinosaur reached the threshold, Emma waved the flare a little, making sure she had her full attention, before spinning on her heels and breaking into a sprint away from the paddock gate and back towards the visitor center.

So far, Emma’s plan was working. More teeth, Henry had said, and more teeth she had found. Despite its lack of attention from the new visitors to the island in the wake of newer dinosaurs, the T-Rex was one of the biggest and most dangerous carnivores on the island. In fact, she was the exact same dinosaur that had been introduced to the original park, the beast matured and monstrous now she had aged by two decades, her body scarred to prove her superiority. Emma had to run faster than she had anticipated to keep out of her reach and when the deep, ground shaking footsteps behind her were lost behind a deep, guttural roar, she couldn’t help the panicked squeak that escaped her lips.

Emma’s ears buzzed with adrenaline, the water from the puddles she was stepping in soaking her feet, but she ignored it as she ran through the gates to where the Indominus was still wreaking havoc. The T-Rex was still behind her and she could almost feel the dinosaur’s breath on her neck as she rushed into the light, the Indominus noticing her at the last second before Emma launched the lit flare at the dinosaur and peeled off into the darkness.

The flare hit the Indominus in the shoulder, singeing the opening wounds she had sustained there and making her turn towards what had caused her so much pain. The flare was forgotten almost instantly when she laid eyes of the T-rex, the other dinosaur breaking through a skeleton with an almighty roar of dominance, challenging the Indominus who returned the roar. As the two dinosaurs took each other in, circling around and crushing debris beneath their feet, it was clear that it wasn’t just raptor in the Indominus. She was clearly part Tyrannosaurus Rex too, her thick thighs and three toed bipedal stance almost an exact mirror image of the older dinosaur in front of her.

Emma, who had been displaced by the T-Rex breaking through the skeleton, lay behind her newly acquired ally, staying as still as she could behind the T-rex as the Indominus tried to intimidate the other dinosaur with another piercing cry. Emma locked eyes with Killian who had stood up inside the kiosk at the sound of another huge dinosaur. Seeing Emma made his heart flutter, a relief washing over him, but she wasn’t out of danger yet, the two dinosaurs sizing each other up mere feet away.

The rex took a lumbering step forward and her deeper roar shook the whole kiosk. Henry was up now, curiosity overriding his fear. The T-rex had always been one of his favourite dinosaurs, powerful and mean, with a tiny brain that was attuned to just the most simple of tasks. Eating, breeding and killing. This was her island, and she would kill to defend it. When Henry moved a little too close to the front of the kiosk, Killian’s arm flew across his chest to stop him, just as the T-rex broke into a sprint, jaws agape and eyes wide with intent as she headed straight for the Indominus.

The two dinosaurs collided in a mess of teeth and claws, the Indominus having the reach advantage because of her long arms, but the T-rex getting the better of her when she grabbed her by the neck and crunched down through the Indominus’ slightly armoured skin there. The dinosaurs shifted position, the T-rex holding onto the Indominus’ neck as she spun them both around to gain more of an advantage. The Indominus lowered herself in an attempt to slip from the rex’s jaws, but it just aided the giant dinosaur in gaining more of a grip. One of their tails slammed into a lampost, sending the metal pole flying and sparks shooting from the damaged electrics so close to Emma that she was shaken back to reality.

The T-rex pushed harder on the Indominus’ skin, the ridges much tougher than her own, her teeth taking a while to pierce through. It gave the Indominus a window of opportunity that she took, circling her head out of the T-Rex’s mouth and then turning offensive, using her longer arms to claw at the T-Rex’s face. One of her sharpened claws dug in, slicing the T-Rex across the face, causing the dinosaur to stumble back a little, carelessly snapping her jaws in an attempt to end the assault.

Her foot slipped out from under her and the T-Rex fell to the ground, a desperate roar strangled in her throat when the Indominus clamped her jaws down on her neck. Her back legs flailed wildly, her only other means of defense, but it was to no avail, and the Indominus dragged her huge bulk sideways and tossed her aside where she smashed through the side of the kiosk Henry and Killian had been hiding in.

Killian rushed Henry aside, the open jaws of the T-Rex only just missing him as she cried out, her yellowed teeth mere inches from his face.

“Run!” Emma screamed, drawing Killian’s attention.

When the dinosaurs retreated out of the kiosk to continue their fight, Killian hustled Henry’s fear frozen body forward and out of the hole that had now been created in the side of the kiosk.

“Go! Go!” He ushered hastily, ducking to avoid debris when the Indominus overpowered the T-Rex again and sent the dinosaur crashing to the ground behind them.

They ran towards where Emma had hunkered down behind another fountain sculpture, this one of blackened lava rocks, her arms wide open and expectant. Henry rushed into her embrace, burying his face in her chest, his arms wrapped so tightly around her body that Emma thought she might break in half any second. Killian laid a hand on Henry’s back where it brushed against Emma’s and she looked up from kissing the top of her son’s head to meet his gaze. There was something in Killian’s eyes she hadn’t seen before, something that scared her a little, more so at this moment than any other, and she wanted - needed - to know if Killian felt the same way she did.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the imminent danger, but Emma surged forward and grabbed Killian’s face with one hand, pulling his lips to hers where she kissed him as hungrily as she could with her son pinned between them. Killian kissed her back, pushing hard, his lips sliding against hers and his head tilting to accommodate her nose as it brushed his face, the tip cold from the night air. He felt the same, he always had, and despite this moment being that absolute worst time to figure it out, Emma wanted him as much as he wanted her.

The sound of the T-Rex roaring again broke them apart, the moment fading away in the anguished cry of the nearly defeated dinosaur. They both looked, Killian keeping a gentle grip on her elbow to stay tethered to her, and the T-Rex was down. She had sustained some injuries, fresh, red blood dripping from wounds as the Indominus towered over her and had her pinned to the ground by her head. There was a soft snuffling noise that came from the Indominus, victorious and pleased with herself, but it was drowned out by the call of a raptor that had everything with a pair of eyes looking towards the visitor centre doors.

The sound echoed again, a battle cry of sorts, as Blue came thundering around a kiosk with her head held high and her feet pounding the ground confidently. She raced towards the two dinosaurs, gathering speed with a lowered stance and a hiss of aggression declaring her intentions. The Indominus looked up in time to see her leap into the air, vault off of the downed T-Rex and attach herself to the side of her, Blue’s claws on all four feet sinking into her scaly flesh once more.

In the center of her back, Blue was unreachable, the Indominus violently shaking her body from side to side in an attempt to rid herself of the annoyance. Blue held on, jaws pulling chunks of flesh from the back of the dinosaur who had dared to oppress her and her sisters. The Indominus was not a raptor, she never would be, and distracted by Blue clawing at her skin, she had failed to notice the T-Rex had got back to her feet until her neck was once again in the vice grip of her jaws.

With a renewed energy, the T-Rex used her added weight to push the Indominus back until she hit the side of a building, the tall glass windows shattering and showering them with shards and sparks from a broken electrical outlet. The T-Rex ignored the Indominus when she cried out, desperately clawing at anything that would rid her of the assault. The T-Rex’s short arms were out of her reach and she rearranged her grip on the Indominus’ neck, twisting the collection of muscle and bone until the Indominus roared a pained cry.

Blue jumped between the two dinosaurs, using the T-rex for balance and cover when the Indominus managed to swipe a claw too close. The Indominus was running out of steam, Killian could tell, her raptor based genes built for sprinting and not a marathon. The energy she had exerted during this fight was taking its toll, and Killian used the opportunity to make sure Emma and Henry were on their way to safety. With a nod he motioned for them to move, all three of them running under the tail of the T-Rex as she, again, reasserted her grip on the Indominus by clamping her jaws shut around her head.

Henry led the charge away, through a shop that was partially open at both ends because it had no doors. Half way through the outlet, the sound of glass smashing made him skid to a stop, Blue sliding through the broken glass where she had been tossed from the back of the Indominus. The raptor simple rose back to her feet, none the worse for wear, and jumped back into the action, her shrill cry piercing the air as she leapt back at the Indominus Rex. The T-rex had the Indominus by the head again, shaking her own in an attempt to disorientate her foe. At one point, the Indominus wriggled free, but the T-Rex simple heaved her bulk into the other dinosaur who went crashing through an entire building where she fell onto her side with a groan.

The T-rex didn’t relent, chasing after the huge reptile and grabbing her by the head once more, blood from the Indominus’ previous wounds now restricting her sight. With a heaving sigh, the Indominus flailed her back legs, wildly kicking out at nothing as the T-Rex dragged the hulk of a dinosaur along the ground with her powerful neck muscles, finally tossing her aside like a rag doll where she crashed through a safety barrier next to the huge Mosasaurs lake.

The T-Rex and Blue watched from a distance as the Indominus rose to her feet, shaking her head from side to side like a wet dog, parts of glass and rebar sticking out of her body in all locations. One of her forearms had become limp and she was unable to keep herself steady as she attempted one last roar of defiance at the T-Rex. Defensively, Blue and the T-rex roared back, but there would be no more fighting between them, because, as she prepared to attack once more, the Indominus was grabbed by a gigantic Mosasaur. The monstrous aquatic beast breached the lake surface to beach itself on the concrete, taking the Indominus between her jaws and pulling her prey back into the lake to drown it.

A silent calm fell over the whole area, just the spark of electricity and the ripple of disturbed water the only sounds that could be heard. Blue let out an appreciative grumble noise in her through, the sound barely moving her lips as she took a tentative step back from the T-Rex. The huge lumbering beast simply stared at her, tired and weary from her fight, gave her a quick glance before heading off into the darkness of the island. Emma, Henry and Killian were all looking on, shocked by what had transpired, least of all Killian, who had never known raptors to work with any other species but their own. It seemed humans were not the only ones to band together for a common purpose.

Killian stepped forward out of their hiding place, Blue watching his every step. She was making a purring sound, the sound of happiness, the sound she only made when he was around. She was injured but they were superficial wounds and Killian knew they would heal just fine in time. He stared at her, watching the look in her eyes that told him she wanted to be free, to be able to live her life the way nature intended, and so Killian was caught in an internal struggle. For the safety of the island, she should be contained, but he had never seen the spark in her eyes as bright as it was now, and so he simply watched as, after a soft nod, she too disappeared into the forests of Isla Nublar.

#cs au #cs ff #cs fanfic #love finds a way #lfaw #ch 10 #jurassic world au #jw au #killian jones #emma swan #liam jones #henry #walsh #ruby lucas #dinosaurs eat people #fanart for fanfic #have you noticed how I did all the fanart?#after saying i never would after BNAN #im a sucker

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Jack Fenton/Maddie Fenton Characters: Dash Baxter, Wesley Weston, OC - Character, Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, Sam Manson, Ghost Writer (Danny Phantom), Andrew Riter Additional Tags: Soulmates, Reluctant Soulmates, countless headcanons, Not Phantom Planet Compliant, my canon now, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, will tag with progress, No Betas we die like fools Summary:

Casper High is a school that has several clubs, including the Occult Club, which Dash should've stayed very far away from no matter what Wes said. Now thanks to the conspiracy theorist, Phantom was pissed at him and the jock and hero were soulbound by a spell that Wes had fudged and Dash had mispronounced. How's he gonna make it up to his hero?

The soulmates fic that only my best bro really wanted out of me, which my brain was forced to provide.

Ao3 / Fanfiction.net

In hindsight, Dash should've stayed away from the occult club altogether. Sure, Wes had said they were gonna use some magick ritual they'd figured out to summon phantom, but people generally wanted to think they could do that and a club at school was the least likely to succeed. But Weston had been confident and Dash wasn't gonna pass on an opportunity to meet his hero without an attack happening.

So he'd gone along with it, even demanded to be the one to do it when they started. There was a chalk circle on the floor, candles, and one of em had a fuckin needle to prick themself with for it. Whatever, Dash wasn't unused to a little pain - he busted his knuckles on nerd's faces sometimes. So he got a drop on the circle, and he said the chant, and the candles turned green instead of reddish-yellow. But while the room went dark and cold and started looking like the night sky had come down to grab them, Dash may have fucked up a word in the book.

There he appeared, in a flash of light so bright Dash had to squint. Sky blue skin, a halo of white hair, freckles that glowed green and that ghost hunting hazmat suit of his. While Phantom was looking around like he was dizzy, Dash felt something. He Saw it, even, a line of bright silver that came out of his chest and turned toxic green before ending at the DP on Phantom's chest. Frowning, Dash looked over at the head of the club. "The fuck is this? A cord?"

"Oh no… oh no no no." The head nerd, a brunette with glasses and a mint green shirt, grabbed the book in Dash's hand and read what he'd said. Then his head whipped over to Wes and the basketballer backed up, his camera flashing the recording light. "You fucked up the summoning ritual!"

"Austin, I swear I was just-"

"This is a binding ritual, Wes, it binds the spirit to the target object - the circle, it looks like?"

"Pretty shitty binding," Phantom said, turning everyone's attention back to him. The blue-faced ghost was floating all around the room, soft green inner light casting weird shadows everywhere. "I'm nowhere near it. What is this thing between me and Dash though?"

"… Fuck." Wes quickly played back his recording on his camera to listen to what Dash had chanted. Dash could hear the moment he fumbled the words and Wes paled when he heard it. "That was the wrong subject word-"

"So you've bound Phantom's soul to Dash's soul now, is what I'm translating here. Cause that, wait lemme.” Austin grabbed the camera and replayed the video a few times while Dash dealt with a sea of complicated emotions. Confusion, shock, anger, resentment, anxiety. Those last three weren’t new per se but they felt… off. Not his. “Wes this is a permanent binding what the fuck?!”

“It wouldn’t’ve been permanent! We coulda scuffed the circle and the thing he’s bound to would be gone!”

Phantom reached down and grabbed the ginger by his shirt, lifting him two feet off the ground. His eyes were blue and gold and red, that dim green aura was now white and yellow and flaring up in arcs. “So lemme get this straight, Wesley. In your insane attempts to prove me as the still-living son of ghost hunters, you decided you'd bind me to a chalk circle. Which might bind me to the chalk itself, tearing me apart to keep myself connected to since you're a fucking hack."

"I-I-I hadn't uh thought of that, b-"

"And instead of that you let Dash, a jo- no THE Jock, read off the spell and so now you've bound me, irreversibly, to another person's soul. Did I get that right?"

Wes nodded the slightest bit, his entire frame shaking and Dash couldn't blame him. Dash was entirely up for pummeling Wes for fucking up his hairbrained scheme, but Phantom looked like he was about to rip Wes apart. He had fangs and his hair was turning into a cloud of fire that sucked all the heat out of the room instead of pushing it out into everything. Wes' shirt was frosting over and Austin and his band of merry freaks were shivering.

"When you get to the afterlife, Wes, I promise you a world of pain. And if you do something so fucking stupid and dangerous that it risks my safety and the safety of everyone else around you again, I'm tossing you to the police by your Fucking underwear!" Wes was dropped on his ass and Phantom growled, fading from sight. There was a Pop, all the pressure in the room shifting, and Dash rubbed his head with a groan.

"Wes you fucking idiot! Now Phantom is pissed at me and it's your fault!" Phantom may have decided not to give Wes what he had coming to him, Dash didn't have superpowers to worry about getting out of hand.

And so Dash had detention that day for wailing on a fellow school athlete.

“I swear I’m going to shatter his camera into a million tiny pieces and make him eat them,” Danny growled and struggled with not breaking his locker when he slammed it shut. The lights overhead buzzed louder and shone brighter from the energy pouring out of him, and Danny took several deep breaths. “Not only was what he wanted to do stupid and dangerous, now I’m fucking - what, Soulmates? With him?”

“Chill, Danny, I’m sure we can fix this.” Tucker pulled his sash from around his shirt and with a flick, it became a scepter once more. Holding out the golden rod over Danny, a look of concentration passed over the geek’s face while azure light bathed Danny’s body. The green thread leading off toward Dash was highlighted, though the silver threads leading to Tucker, Sam and Jazz were also visible and even the blue ones trailing off to his Mom and Dad. Tucker’s magick wrapped around his green thread and for a moment, Danny was sure that it’d be cut and all of this would be over and dealt with.

Tucker’s scepter was knocked out of his hand and clattered loudly on the tile floor of the school and the green thread shone brighter than before, seeming to have simply soaked up the magick. Danny’s growl was deep in his chest this time, and one of the lights blew a fuse. “That’s fucking ridiculous! He just read off the spell without even knowing what it did, why would that be stronger than the Pharoah’s command?”

“The language might not be from this world, Danny. We’ll have to ask Andrew if he knows how to undo it.” Sam patted Danny on his shoulder and he leaned onto her, embracing the calm of her aura. The bell rang and Danny pulled his hood over his head, pulling it shut over his face with the drawstrings. “C’ mon, let’s get you home and we can head over to see him right now.”

Danny grumbled as he was pulled along by Sam and Tucker outside to the parking lot, where all three of them pulled out their hoverboards. Danny mounted his star and nebulae covered creation and slipped on his helmet. The one he’d made for Tucker was gold and chrome-colored, a techno styled F on the bottom of it, while Sam’s was black with creeping vines appearing to weave all around it. It had been fun building these boards with Tucker and personalizing them since they made flying to school easier on them all. Magnetic boots locked in place, Danny slipped on the remote control glove and took off, followed closely by his friends into the even sky to the envious stares of their schoolmates.

The only ghosts that got in their way home were Skulker and the Box Ghost, and while Boxy was easy to take down with a few well-placed shots, Danny had to split off a Phantom copy while still in human form to take down Skulker, which sucked because he didn’t have the energy to make one as strong as he normally was in ghost form. With a kick to Skulker’s head that removed his helmet, and a swift click of the button on the Thermos, Skulker was dealt with and they headed to Fenton works.

Descending the stairs of the Fenton home to the basement lab and finding it empty was a blessing, mostly available due to Sam and her meddling in the business affairs of Fenton Works. Getting to the Ghost Writer’s library from there was a cakewalk, and soon they were knocking on his doors.

“Andy, I have a problem and I need your help fixing it!” Getting no reply for a moment, Danny took a deep superfluous breath and whined loudly against the door. “Aaandyyyyy!” The door opened inward fast enough that Danny hit the floor, and grumbled something rude about Vidya playing cruel pranks on him.

“Don’t pretend that Vidya doesn’t love you about as much as she does me, Danny, you’ll never get away with a lie that flimsy.” The baritone laughter of the Ghost Writer, otherwise known to a few as Andrew Riter, met Danny’s ears and a shark-toothed smile greeted Sam and Tucker. The librarian in grey and purple invited them deeper in to sit on couches and cushions scattered about the shelves of the library and cups of coffee and tea set themselves down on the table before them. “Alright, what trouble have you gotten yourselves into this time?”

“This time it wasn’t one of us, actually.” Sam nudged Danny with her boot and he slumped against Tucker, taking a long sip of his tea. “An idiot, Wes, tried to bind him to a circle during an event that the Occult Club was performing to summon Danny, but they let Dash Baxter read it and when Danny appeared, apparently Dash stuttered the wrong words and now he and Danny are bound by the soul. As far as we know.”

Andrew adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowed at Danny as a trio of books flew to him and Danny repeated the spell for Andrew to decipher. “Give me a couple of days to look this one up. Artificially created Soul Bonds like that typically break with the right spell and if both parties agree to sever the link.” Tucker groaned while Danny buried his face in his hands.

“I have to convince Dash to unlink himself with me? Wonderful. Fuck me, I guess.”

Tucker patted the ghost boy on his shoulder and Danny whined.

Ao3 / Fanfiction.net

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chromecutie · 5 years ago

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Not A Ghost - part 27

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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The scream that tore through the air like wind-blasted sleet didn’t even sound human. It sounded like a wild animal with its leg caught in a bear trap as predators closed in from every side. It was the sound of abject terror.

Colossus was still getting back to his feet, shaking off the effects of a significant electrical current passing over his skin. The scream chilled his spine, and with a sick feeling swelling in his heart, he looked toward the sound, hoping it didn’t come from his wife.

Rhonda was pinned to the ground by two DMC officers. Her face was turned away, but the green hair was unmistakable. The one who had a knee in her back let off to stand up, while the other hooked his fingers under the heavy black collar on her neck and hauled her up onto her knees. This man, in his faceless riot gear, jerked her around, even as she grunted and sobbed. When she lifted her hands, he slammed a gloved fist into her face hard enough that a spray of blood flew from her lips and she lost her balance - held off the ground only by the fist hooked in her collar, choking her.

Colossus roared, a single, long, wordless utterance. He had lost his wife once, and she had only just come back when monsters were trying to take her away again. They didn’t care she was already down and restrained - they would torture a person to top it off. Colossus barreled toward the brutes who dared lay hands on his wife. One tried to hit him with a tranq gun, but the small feathered needles just ping-ping-pinged off him. Enraged, Colossus lifted the officer with the tranq gun and threw him so far, his superiors would mark him as missing in action for days.

The remaining officer tried to drag Rhonda along with him as he staggered backwards away from the Russian giant. Colossus caught up to him in less than five paces and squeezed his wrist until he let go of the collar. There was a muffled pop and the officer shrieked - probably every bone in his wrist broke. Colossus didn’t throw this one as far, just slammed him into the side of a van, knocking him unconscious for a moment.

Footsteps and huffing sounded as Deadpool, flanked by Domino and Cable, found them. “Oh shit!” Domino hissed as they noticed the collar around Rhonda’s neck like a mechanical serpent.

“Welllll, that’s not good,” Wade said.

From the moment the officer’s hand left her neck, Rhonda was furiously scrabbling at the collar, desperately seeking the latch to get it off. Colossus knelt and gently pulled her hands away. “Shh, Sladkaya, let me look.” She was panting, heaving gasping breaths in a panic. Her lip was busted, one eye was swelling, and the other was glazed in hot tears.

Colossus had to hold Rhonda’s hands with one of his own while he examined the collar. He thought he found where he needed to break it when Wade started looking at it with him. “Hold up a sec,” Deadpool swatted his friend’s hands away, “This looks different from the one I had.” There was a thicker block that sat on the back of her neck. A panel flipped down to show a keypad, like the one Deadpool had worn, but the block was much thicker than any keypad and latch system needed.

The officer who Colossus had thrown into a van had come to, and when he saw the cluster of mutants fussing with the collar, he muttered, “Sweet Jesus!” before scrambling to get away.

“Wait,” Domino said. She strode over to the officer and seized him by the body armor on his shoulders before he could get far. With surprisingly little effort, she dragged him closer to the rest and demanded, “How do we get that thing off?”

The man struggled against Domino’s grip, but she held firm. He forced a laugh as he answered with a slightly trembling voice, “Like I’m gonna tell you mutant terrorists a goddamn thing! You wanna kill me? Go for it.”

Rhonda knew his voice. It awoke an anger, a raw hatred in her that was strong enough to cut through her panic, if only for a moment. She had never heard that tone in his voice - fear. It sounded so good on him. “Reyes,” her breathing slowed. Her shoulders hunkered forward, like a wolf ready to lunge for the kill. She swatted Colossus and Deadpool’s hands away from her face as she got to her feet and stalked toward Reyes. “Piotr, hold him,” Rhonda snarled. “I don’t want this bastard squirming.”

His large hands closed around the officer’s arms and pressed them into his sides so hard he grunted.

Despite her fingers still trembling, Rhonda unbuckled Reyes’s headgear and tossed it to the side. The man underneath was greying at the temples, had a scar on his chin, and cold eyes that have never known empathy. She demanded, “What’s different about these collars?” When he didn’t answer immediately, Rhonda hauled off and slapped him with an open palm with her full strength.

“How do we get these collars off?” she said louder. Reyes spat in her face. Piotr squeezed his arms a little harder.

Rhonda broke one of his fingers, then a second, then a third. As Reyes yowled, Piotr reproached her, "Rhonda--"

"Not now," she said icily, looking up to give her husband a brief but harsh glance. There was a look in her eyes that was foreign, and he dreaded what it meant. Leaning close to a whimpering Reyes, she said, "The man holding you? Is my husband. I told him some of what happened to me in the Icebox, but I didn't say which parts were you." She slapped his face again to make sure she still had his attention. Gesturing to the rows of trucks she continued, "You see those semis? He lifts trucks like that for breakfast. I wonder what he'll do to you."

Gritting his teeth, Reyes drawled, "Shred me all you want, Guestbook, you're still a mutant piece of shit, and you're still going back in the Icebox to rot--"

Rhonda drove her heel into the side of his knee, splintering his bones with a wet crack. Reyes screamed, Deadpool said something about needing popcorn, Piotr shouted, "Rhonda, stop!"

"[Shut up and let me handle this!]" She fired back in Russian.

Piotr flinched, but didn’t let go of the officer. He watched her incredulously. This wasn’t the woman he knew - snapping at him, torturing a person, regardless of what he might have done to her. For the first time, Piotr was starting to see the real toll the Icebox had taken on his wife.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rhonda saw something hanging off the belt of a dead DMC officer. Rhonda strode over to the body, snatched it, and crossed back to Reyes. With a metallic snap that chilled her own bones, she clapped a collar on him. Too calmly, she said, “Now you’re as fucked as I am. Either you tell me how to get this off, or we start some trial and error on you.”

Reyes glowered at her, doing his best to suppress his grunts of pain.

The breeze lifted some strands of Rhonda’s hair, frizzed out from all the electricity she had emitted. Her hand absently found its way to her neck and scratched under the heavy collar. “Okay,” she raised her eyebrows flippantly, “Piotr, let’s see what happens if you break that collar off.”

As Piotr released the man’s arms to take hold of the collar, Reyes yelped, “It’ll explode! If you tamper with it, it--it’ll explode!”

Rhonda jerked her hand away from her neck in horror. It wasn’t bad enough to have a control collar - it was also a bomb. White-hot rage coursed through her veins. Quicker than her husband could react, she hooked both hands into Reyes’s collar and yanked him to the ground, planting herself on top of him. Piotr threw one hand around Rhonda's arm, ready to tear her off the officer, but hesitated while she growled, “When your buddies come out here to pick up their trash, how will they get it off you?”

Reyes had his hands locked around Rhonda’s wrists, but his grip was weak with a broken wrist and fingers. He gulped, “Hard tokens. At the office in the Icebox, there’s hard tokens. They randomly generate a code every ten seconds, and that’s what you enter on the keypad.” He wheezed for Rhonda’s weight on his chest.

“Do any officers carry one of these hard tokens?”

“No,” Reyes grunted. “Only in the Icebox.”

His words hit her like ice chips straight in the face. She rocked back, and Piotr lifted her off Reyes to let him breathe. As her hands started shaking, Piotr reassured her, “We will get the collar off you, Sladkaya. I promise.”

Reyes started scooting away with his elbows and one good leg before Domino stopped him with a boot on his chest.

Questions broke out and Rhonda was hardly aware of who said what.

“Couldn’t Cable or Ellie do anything?”

“We cannot risk collar detonating.”

“Then we’ll break into the Icebox and take the fucking hard tokens.”

“We don’t know enough about the place to break in without a lot of trouble.”

“I bet Rhonda does.”

Eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare, Rhonda scrabbled at her neck and the collar, her panic redoubled. She dug hard enough to break the skin, and blood started caking on her broken fingernails.

“She’s gonna tear into her own jugular,” Cable grumbled. He set down his gun and crossed to her. She dimly registered someone coming toward her and tried to edge away from him. “Easy, easy,” he said slowly. He pulled off one glove and reached for her. When his fingertips touched her head, she slumped bonelessly against Piotr’s leg. Her last thought, before she went under, was the absolute, horrible certainty that she was going back to the Icebox.

#not a ghost #deadpool fanfic #piotr rasputin x oc #colossus x oc #colossus #piotr rasputin #angst #xmen fanfic #mutants #longfic

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mozarellarellarella123-blog · 5 years ago

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El amor esta aqui

By mozarellarellarella123

@shalilyweek

Writers Note:

Hello everyone!!! I’m fairly new to this community and I’m glad to be a part of it! By the way, the title (El amor esta aqui) translates to “love is here” from Spanish to English. (Not accurately) Anyway, before you read, I’d like to thank @indayiashow for helping and inspiring me to be a part of this community and to write fan-fics like this! Another note, this is actually my first fan fiction (So naturally it’s gonna be terrible) so please tell me what you think because even if you say something like: “This was terrible and never do this again”, I’d rather have that then a comment that lies to me about my work. So please leave criticism down below!!! 😊 Anyway, lets get to the story!

Fandom: Fairy Tail | Characters: (Human) Shagotte X Pantherlily | Word Count: 2,208 | Age: 13+ (Includes bad words and fluff)

Heavy and shining lightning strook the sky from the rain-filled heavy clouds above as rain wet the land like a cold shower and hit Lily’s umbrella, making a pitter-patter sound as hail hit Lily’s head like a hard rock being thrown at him. Lily was shivering cold and sidestepping along the wet pavement. He was wearing some green and purple nike trainers, a soaked shirt and tie, some drenched blue jeans and a smart top hat which was also wet. The street lamp illuminated Lily’s smile. He had finally arrived.

But where did lily arrive? Why was he in the rain and how did he find himself into this situation? It all started in Lily’s house. It was your regular, average day and lily was relaxing in his house.

He was watching a movie with the fire on, some marshmallows and a soft, woollen blanket. He heard a knock and paused the film to answer the door. “Hello-“ Lily was in shock. It was none other then his old friend Gajeel Redfox.

“What’s up punk?” Gajeel Laughed histerically while smiling cheekily. “Gajeel! It’s been a while hasn’t it?!” Lily exclaimed a little too loudly. “...”. An awkward silence occurred as the two stopped looking at each other and started to twiddle their thumbs or look the other way.

Finally, Gajeel broke the silence in a heartwarming and honest way. “Look lily, I’m sorry for what I did...” He softly said as he started to make eye contact with lily again. “I’m sorry too.....” Lily muttered awkwardly while looking down and fiddling with his fingers.

“To make it up to you, I want you to come to a party I’m hostin’. How does that sound huh?” Gajeel explained bravely. A smile spread across Lily’s face. “I would love to.” He replied with a bright smile and shaking Gajeel’s hand.

Lily would’ve brang a coat and a pair of boots if he knew it would rain this hard. He brought out an umbrella but the heavy drops of rain and the intense, strong and superior wind blew the umbrella away, leaving lily exposed to the lightning and hail.

This would’ve been a lot easier if he went to the party by car, so then he could avoid the rain and get there in a jiffy. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t afford a car; he couldn’t even afford most things. He wasn’t the richest person in the world but he definitely had the looks.

He would’ve entered the party in style if his whole outfit wasn’t soaked to the core. Once he arrived, he knocked the door and rang the doorbell. He shivered intensely while waiting for someone to let him in. After 5 minutes had passed, lily knocked again and at last, Gajeel answered the door. He just opened the door and walked away, not even welcoming lily into his house. This was why they fell out in the first place, Gajeel being a dick.

Once he walked in, he was blinded by a disco ball, colourful lights and massive fog machines. He had to close his eyes and shove his way past everyone into the bathroom. Once he was in there, he used a towel to dry himself off and make sure he looked smart. He fixed his tie and did his collar until he looked fairly presentable. (Well at least, as presentable as you can look when you have been walking in the harsh rain for 20 minutes)

The lights weren’t blinding him when he walked out of the bathroom so he decided to take this chance to look around. There was a disco area, a karaoke/stage area,(Where Gajeel was) a snack area and a gaming area.

This area particularly peaked Lily’s interest as he was indeed a gamer. When he is off work, he usually games for 2-3 hours before going to bed. He absolutely loved gaming. Gaming was his soul. Gaming kept him alive. Gaming was his true passion and he wouldn’t give it up for absolutely anything.

He walked over to that area faster then a cat chasing a mouse and soon found himself in the middle of three sections. These sections were: The Video Game area, (Where people played video games) The board Game area, (Where people played board games) and finally, The card area, where you can imagine what they play there. He swiftly approached the video game area.

Lily sat down next to a person who had won matches 5 times in a row with complete perfection and accuracy. “So, you just arrived?” She asked menacingly while giving lily a dirty look through her black sunglasses.

She was an absolute badass. Lily gulped. He obviously picked a fight with someone way above his competition. But, he was prepared. He was ready. He turned around and what he saw was absolutely mind blowing.

It was a women with beautiful white hair that flowed down her body like a river, some beautiful jewellery that you could see your own reflection in and a beautiful dress that complimented her entire body. Lily had never seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. In fact, he has never actually felt love until now.

His heart rate went from 60 to a clean 120 in nothing short of a millisecond. “Ahem?!” She scowled intimidatingly. Lily had completely forgotten about her question because of this girl.

His mouth was watering and his senses were tingling. He quickly remembered what the women had asked him and answered as quickly as he could. “Y-y-yeah...” He awkwardly stumbled out.

She didn’t say a word after that and just started the match. They were playing smash bros and Lily loved to play as mewtwo. That was his favoutite character. The terrifying and mysterious women played as Mario, simple but complicated.

Lily turned around to see the girl watching him play. He must not lose. Or else that may lead to massive embarrassment. He had to win. It was the only way. His heart rate shot up again and he could literally feel his heart pounding out of his chest.

This match decided his fate.

The match had started. 3, 2, 1, GO!!! Lily immediately attacked his neural special which fired a shadow ball. She immediately parried it with a perfect shield. Lily was in shock.

Her instincts and reflexes were on a whole new level. A lever way higher than Lily’s playing level. She saw her advantage and immediately attacked back with 3 fireballs.

Lily didn’t have the reflexes to dodge or parry it in time, so he ended up taking the hit. 12% damage. Lily got annoyed and immediately used his side smash. This sent Mario flying and now all lily had to do was to stop her from getting back onto the stage.

On the edge, lily ceased his opportunity and used his down special, disable. This let her off the platform completely and she went flying into the distance. She had an agitated look on her face. A look of rivalry and revenge.

She was absolutely pissed. Lily gulped again. He just had to survive one more minute more until the time ran out. But there was a thin chance of him surviving her wrath.

When she respawned, she immediately started throwing punches, none of which lily could dodge. She kept on going until her final smash meter was charged up. This was bad news.

She was gonna finish him off with one last final sweep. It was called fireball finale. This was the attack that was gonna send lily flying off stage. Lily immediately started to jump around because if she missed then her chance of using it would be over. But she wasted absolutely no time in using it. There it was.

Fireball Finale.

The move that sent lily flying off stage. GAME!!! The match had ended. They both had one kill on each other. A tie. Which means this could only be settled in sudden death.

Sudden death was a finale move that ended everything off. Lily was so scared. More scared then he has ever been is his entire life. He looked at the mysterious women. Her face told of winning and determination. Lily’s face told of the opposite. SUDDEN DEATH!!! GO!!!!!

This was now or never. Lily immediately used disable, which stunned her and gave lily one last chance. One last chance to attack. The stage was filling with fire and he had finite time. He made his final attack and it finished her off. GAME!!!

She obviously was annoyed but you could literally see the red on her face. After all of Lily’s hard gaming and training, he had broken her winning streak. She immediately left annoyed and frustrated with herself.

The beautiful girl went over to him and happily said: “That was amazing!!! You did great!” Lily smiled joyously. He was victorious. “Thank you but it was nothing really...” He mumbled overconfidently.

“What’s your name?” She asked curiously. “Pantherlily. But you can call me lily.” Lily told her. “Shagotte is mine. But you can call me anything you want!” She explained excitedly. “Shagotte is just fine for me.” He replied.

This made her blush and put a massive smile on her face. They both shared a glance at each other. A glance that spoke to them saying: “Love has finally arrived. Love is here.”

They walked to the dance floor holding each other’s hands. Lily did the gentlemanly thing and asked: “May I have this dance?” Shagotte straight away started to dance with him. Kisses and hugs were exchanged and that night was one of Lily’s best nights in his entire life.

Lily couldn’t sleep that night. His thoughts had filled up with love and romance and dance like a whole new world had been opened up to him. He finally fell asleep and dreamed about Shagotte. Getting married, having kids and overall living a good life. When he woke up he cried and wished that dreams could be brought to life.

He wondered why he was so addicted. Why was he so drawn to Shagotte like a magnet? He pulled himself together and got out of bed. He put a vest and some underwear on, and shortly head downstairs for a nice bowl of cereal.

After that, he started to clean frantically. He wouldn’t normally clean but he knew that Shagotte was coming over to his house for the day, and he needed to clean. Sure his house wasn’t very “grand” or “stylish” but inviting her over would put him closer to bringing that dream to real life just like he wished.

Once he finished cleaning, he put some clothes on, used deodorant and brushed his teeth until they were sparkling clean like a diamond being polished with a cloth. He heard the doorbell ring and got excited. He rushed downstairs and took deep breaths, trying to hide his everlasting excitement for her, and finally opened the door.

“Hello!!! Come in and make yourself at home!” Lily welcomed kindly. She smiled at the warm opening and sat on the couch. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” He asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Coffee please! And can I have 2 sugars and milk in it as well?” She questioned while also trying to hide her excitement for him. “Coffee with milk and two sugars coming right up!!!” He exclaimed. Shagotte turned on the tv and enjoyed herself.

Once lily made two coffees, they both sat down and started a conversation. “So, how has life been treating you?” Lily asked, trying to start up a conversation. “It’s been okay I guess... It’s just that...” Shagotte muttered sadly. “I’ve been really lonely lately...”

“Yeah me too. I understand.” He said awkwardly. “I’ve been struggling for money and working at this job I hate.” She stuttered while taking a small sip of her coffee. “I’m also struggling with money and a job to find.” Lily replied.

“I have no friends, no job and no money.” She stated in a depressed tone. It was like they were in the same boat. Lily also didn’t have these things and was in a state of sadness. He decided to cheer her up.

“That’s a lie. You have one friend. And that friend is me.” He declared heartwarmingly. Lily could see the tears in her eyes. “Oh lily-“ She cried as she gave him a massive hug and a kiss.

Lily saw an opportunity and whispered in her ear: “I love you.” These three words made Shagotte burst into even more tears; tears of happiness and pure joy.

“I love you too... lily...” She sniffled while tightening her hug even more. “I absolutely hate my house. I live in a cramped flat that only has one room in it.” Lily started to feel bad because he thought that his house was bad.

“So please!!! PLEASE!!! Can I live here?!” She wailed loudly, letting all of her feelings out. “Yes. Of course you can.” Lily smiled rapidly. This resulted in even more tears and love.

The next day they became boyfriend and girlfriend. Lily had found his hope. His light at the end of the dark tunnel. His happiness. Happiness that he had been searching for but could never find. The happiness that led to a bright and joy-filled future.

-mozarellarellarella123

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greekowl87 · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: It’s Cold Outside

This is my fic for the X-Files Easter Fic Exchange (@xfilesfanficexchange). My prompt was for slippinmickeys over on AO3. This is cross-posted with AO3.

The prompt was: “Mulder gets stuck at Maggie Scully's for the weekend during a Scully family holiday (any holiday). UST becomes RST and drama ensues. Seasons 1-7. No PWP, need story.” So this is set during season three and is inspired by The Blizzard of 1996 (January 6 -10) was an actual event that took place. I myself was nine and remember being miserable, sick and losing power for 3 days during the course of it while living in Virginia but took it as inspiration for this fic.

A quick thank you for @peacenik0 and @baronessblixen talking me through some writer’s block with this fic. Mind you, it’s long. Also, there’s some smut in this: just a head’s up. I hope you all enjoy.

P.S. @today-in-fic

Friday, January 5, 1996

“Mulder, you don’t have to do this.” Scully gathered her coat and briefcase for the weekend as Mulder donned his own trench coat and car keys. “I’m just taking the bus home and then driving to my mother’s for the weekend in the morning.”

“It would make me feel better, Scully. I don’t know if you saw the forecast for the weekend but they are calling for a big Nor’easter. Anyways, what’s so special about your mom’s this weekend?”

“A belated celebration of Christmas,” she told him with a smile. “Ever since dad and with Missy just a few months ago, mom’s had a hankering to get the family together. A belated Christmas seemed like the answer. My brothers Bill and Charlie are coming with their wives. Bill’s ship just got into Norfolk two days ago and is already up in Baltimore with Tara. Charlie is coming down from Pennsylvania.”

Mulder felt his heart drop in his chest at the mention of the recent murder of Melissa Scully. His partner had told him multiple times that she did not blame him; the dangers came with their work. But deep down, Mulder still felt guilt himself. He was only more determined to make things right for her, even if it was as simple as driving to her mother’s for a makeup Christmas holiday in early January.

“Really, Scully, it’s no big deal. I can drive you first thing tomorrow morning to Baltimore.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

His smile must have melted her resolve as Scully smiled. “Fine. Tomorrow morning at ten, okay?”

“Okay.” He grinned.

. . . . . . . . .

Saturday, January 6, 1996

Scully glanced at her wall clock as it read 10:08 as she heard a knock at the door. Her weekend bag sat next to the door along with her freshly dug out snow boots and winter jacket. She had been watching the local news and now The Weather Channel. Mulder’s warning the previous day about an upcoming nor’easter had sparked her interest however her attention was once again distracted by the knocking again.

“It’s open,” she called.

The brass doorknob opened and she saw her partner wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and black turtleneck. He smiled at her awkwardly. “Ready to go, Scully?”

“You know you can come in, Mulder.”

She turned off the television and cast the remote onto the wooden coffee table. She saw him sidestep the welcome mat and inch around her entryway before shutting the door. He held his gaze at the fixed point in the floor before forcing a smile. “I do. I see you got your snow boots.”

“Yep. Finally got a chance to see the forecast. Might as well be prepared.”

Scully was already pulling on her jacket and then her shoes. “You really didn’t have to do this, Mulder.”

“I want to, Scully.”

He picked up her bag, loaded her bag into his backseat, and began the journey up to Maryland. The drive was quiet between them with a little conversation with the exception of small talk about the Scully family plans. As Mulder pulled up to the familiar driveway, he threw the car into park and looked at Scully. “Here’s your stop,” he said.

Scully gave him a thankful smile and nodded towards the porch. “Why don’t you come in before you head back to Alexandria?”

“I couldn’t impose, Scully.”

The last time he had been to Mrs. Scully’s house was shortly after his partner’s abduction when he had to swallow his pride and failure and let her know that her baby daughter had disappeared into thin air. He only saw himself as an omen of ill news for the Scullys. The most recent stigma was the death of Melissa Scully and him keeping Scully away due to their crazy crusade. The prospect of visiting her again under such circumstances wasn’t very appealing to him.

“Come on, Mulder. At least take a bathroom break and get a drink of coffee?” Her teasing smile made him relax slightly.’ “Come on, Mulder. My family isn’t going to crucify you.”

“The wrong holiday,” he joked. It fell on deaf ears. “I couldn’t impose, Scully. Really.”

“You can at least get some coffee before hitting the road,” she encouraged. “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“You aren’t going to take no for an answer are you?”

“Sound familiar? Why don’t you just put yourself out of your misery and come in.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

They both exited the car and Mulder went to grab her weekend bag from the trunk of his car. Together, they went up to the steps to the Scully household. His partner grabbed the brass doorknob and swung the door open wide. “Mom! I’m here!”

“Is that little Dana?” A playful voice echoed from the kitchen. “Still believing in Santa Claus?”

“Charlie!”

Mulder stood awkwardly by the doorframe, unsure if he should close the door behind him and stay or if he should run away. He saw a much taller man, about his height with dark auburn hair and blue eyes like his partner wearing a Penn State sweatshirt and jeans. Scully ran to her brother, throwing her arms around her youngest brother as he spun her in a circle. “It’s been too long, Dana! Mom, Dana’s here!”

Mulder stood straighter as he saw the matronly Mrs. Scully come from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a yellow apron. “No traffic I hope?”

“No,” Scully answered.

“Good. The weather forecast is calling for snow tonight and I hated the thought of you driving in this weather.”

“Mulder drove me,” Scully said, turning to gesture to him.

Mulder would have preferred to have fallen into a hole in the ground on the way to China than face the Scully matriarch. “Fox,” she greeted coolly.

“Mrs. Scully.”

Charlie turned to Mulder and smiled warmly. “So your Dana’s FBI partner. What kind of name is Fox anyways?”

To Mulder’s surprise, the youngest Scully offered a welcoming handshake which he returned hesitantly. “My parents probably hated me. I prefer Mulder anyways.”

“FBI thing?”

“Something like that. I’m going to go, Scully. I’ll see you back at the office on Monday.”

Scully narrowed her eyes in annoyance and nudged her mother. “I was going to invite Mulder to some coffee before he goes back. He was nice enough to drive me.”

“Of course.” Like magic, Mrs. Scully’s face materialized into the welcoming host that used to make her the talk of all the housewives of the San Diego Naval Base. “Take off your jacket and shoes, Fox. Stay awhile. You take your coffee black right?”

“That’d be fine.”

Mulder was already taking off his shoes and jacket as Charlie said something about finding Bill and Tara from upstairs. Soon, Mulder found himself standing in the atrium alone with Scully. She gave him a smile small. “Thank you for staying for a bit.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“I appreciate it regardless. Come on, let’s get you that cup of coffee.”

He was powerless to say no to her and followed her like an obedient puppy. Mrs. Scully was smiling and getting coffee, trying to make small talk with the two FBI agents. Charlie soon came back with a man and a woman which Mulder could only assume was Big Brother Bill and his wife Tara. He felt himself shrink under the steely gaze as Scully greeted the rest of her family. Mulder took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Fox Mulder.”

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill said carefully.

He had the sneaking suspicion he was being appraised. The blond hair woman, Tara, rushed forward to shake his hand as well. “It is so nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder. Dana has told us so much about you.”

“You can call me Mulder.” Mulder raised his eyebrow playfully at Scully. “Is that so?”

Charlie was by the fridge grabbing a beer out. “Don’t worry, Mulder. If you stick around long enough, you’ll hear some embarrassing stories about little Dana.”

As the afternoon progressed, the snow became heavier and showed no signs of letting up. By seven that evening, Mulder still found himself in the Scully household recovering from a wonderful dinner over embarrassing stories in front of a Christmas tree and the Scully clan. How had time escaped him was beyond Mulder’s grasp; he should open an x-file on it. By ten in the evening, he decided it was time to call it a night.

“Mrs. Scully, as much as I would love to stay, I must get going. The drive back to Alexandria is bound to belong.”

“You can’t be serious, Mulder!” Charlie cried. “All that snow!”

“It’s not safe,” Bill added as his wife yawned. She leaned against his shoulder sleepily. “You ready to hit the hay, hon?”

“Yeah. Traveling must’ve taken it out of me yesterday.”

“Why don’t you get going to bed. I’ll be right up.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder,” Tara said getting up. “Good night, everyone.”

A chorus of good nights and good evenings followed her out of the room. Scully looked at Mulder and bit her lip in thought. Mulder sensed something from her but did not say anything. “Why doesn’t he crash on the couch tonight, mom? Hopefully, the main roads will be plowed by tomorrow?”

Mrs. Scully nodded in agreement. “I’ll go get some blankets and pillows for you, Fox.”

Mulder had not even had a chance to say anything as Scully brothers said goodnight quickly and retreated back upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Mulder and Scully were left together alone in the living room. “What just happened?”

“Sleepover,” Scully chuckled.

“You weren’t planning this, were you?”

“No.” She lowered her voice and brought her knees to her chest. “Unless I suddenly gained control of the weather.”

“Knock it off, Scully.”

“I’m just teasing. But my brothers are right. It’s not safe to drive. I’m not up to saving your butt again.” They shared a knowing smile. “Besides, I was happy to have you here tonight.”

“How come?”

“It made things more...bearable tonight.” Without another word, she rose from the couch. “Good night, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

Like ships passing in the sea, he watched Scully glide upstairs for the night as Mrs. Scully let her motherly instinct take over and make Mulder’s temporary bed for the night. He suddenly remembered the spare bag of clothes he kept in his car and rushed outside to grab it real quick before the snow grew any worse.

. . . . . . . .

Sunday, January 7, 1996

The meteorologists, both locally and nationally, metrologists were already calling it The Great Blizzard of 1996. When Mulder and the Scully family had retired for the night, Mother Nature had other plans. There was already almost a foot of snow before it transitioned to sleet, icing in the layers and locking them away. The storm came back with colder temperatures and even heavier bands of snow. Snow, ice, and more snow. And with that, Mulder found himself trapped in Baltimore for the Scully’s makeup Christmas. Unwanted guest indeed.

Mulder found himself waking up in the early morning hours. He could hear the winds battering the side of the house, snow, and ice pelting the windows, and the colorful glow of the Christmas tree dancing around the living room. He did not know what he was doing.

Sleep just didn’t happen for Mulder anymore. After many years of isolation and peculiarness had molded him into a couch dozing insomniac that slept with the tv on. Maybe, deep in his own mind and subconscious, he was still trying to bring back Samantha by somehow recreating that night from November 1973. It seemed awfully true now as the Scully clan tried to recreate the memory of their lost kin.

“Can’t sleep?”

Mulder jumped and spun around. Scully stood in the door frame as the shadows clung to her. Her robe was wrapped tightly around her, her arms weaved into a knot as if trying to protect her against something. She gazed longingly at the multicolored Christmas tree and then to stockings on the old fireplace. “And the stockings were hung on the chimney with care with hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be here,” Scully recited softly. She cleared her throat. “I see Mom is keeping Missy’s up.”

Mulder turned to the stockings counting them quickly. “I count seven.”

“Mom still keeps dad’s up.” She gave a sad smile. “Christmas was a favorite holiday growing up for us. The last time we were all together was the December before I went to the academy.”

Mulder scooted over on the couch as Scully sat next to him. “What a turn of events, huh, Scully?”

“Hmm?”

Mulder gestured to the window as white snow blinded the outside. “Weather. Mother nature. The inconvenience of timing.”

“It depends on the way you look at it, Mulder.”

“I’m probably ruining your little family get-together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your mother’s scalding gaze.” Self-deprecating humor at its finest. Another mechanism. “I don’t know if I should be alarmed or not.”

“Mulder,” she sighed. She pinched her nose and gave a weak smile. “She’s not mad at you.”

“I’m sure they’re just waiting and plotting. I would know.”

Scully tilted her head to the side and gave him a warm smile. She moved closer to him and rubbed her against his left shoulder smoothing the cotton beneath her palm. “I did it so I could save you. You were out of your mind,” she whispered softly. Even beneath that fabric, she could still feel the puckered scar. “I saved you, didn’t I?”

He chuckled. “Does your mother know what you did?”

“No. And neither do my brothers.”

She smiled in the light and moved closer to Mulder. He stilled as she reached for a stray blanket to pull it over her lap and rest her head against his shoulder. “What are you thinking,” he whispered.

“Those lights and decorations. I think my mom used the last time when we were all together. The last Christmas. It was right before I left for the academy.” She smiled at the memory. “It’s funny because Missy and I were sitting on this very couch, watching those colored lights. I had just been recruited into the FBI and I remember feeling uncertain.”

“You’re never uncertain about anything.”

There was a pause between them and Scully continued to stare off into the distance. “She told me that…” She took a breath. “She told me don’t mistake a path for what it really represents: the people that we meet along the way. I didn’t know who I was going to meet, how my life was going to change, or whose life I would change along the way.”

Overwhelming guilt wrecked his heart (as if the guilt from Melissa Scully’s death, Scully’s abduction, and the disappearance from his own sister weren’t enough). The silence that ensued must have been enough for Scully to grasp his hand tightly, startling him out of dismal, gloomy thoughts. “Mulder, don’t think that.”

“It’s because of me,” he murmured, “that all this happened to you.”

“Didn’t you hear me? It is a two-way street. With the bad, there has also been good. These three years, I wouldn’t change. I wouldn’t want this journey with anyone else but you.”

Unable to find words he settled for the thing that had worked best for them: unspoken communication. He wrapped his arm around her in a hug. Scully settled her head back against his shoulder in silence. The moment seemed trapped in a bubble that was only meant for the two of them. “I am incredibly grateful you are here with me now, Mulder, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” She took a deep breath and kissed his temple softly. “Thank you.”

Like a shadow in the night, she quickly retreated leaving a very confused Mulder alone on the couch to wonder exactly what had transpired at that moment.

As the early morning crawled on, the Christmas lights turned off from the automatic timer leaving Mulder in the dark. He did not remember when he dozed off but awoke a few hours later to the smell of coffee being brewed and laughter in the room next door. “Charles, I do not recall that Christmas.”

The voice of Mrs. Scully laughed as there as a masculine snorting of giggles. “Oh shut up, Bill.”

That must be Charlie, she surmised.

Mulder stretched his aching body against the stiff couch, wincing at some unknown muscle cramp. The air was chilled in the living room and he spied a smoldering fireplace in need of fresh wood. Mulder got up to stoke the fire before searching for his Oxford sweatshirt to ward off the chill. His foggy mind, already going through the things that he needed to do the first thing to get back to Alexandria. He’d need to get gas, make sure he had a shovel or something in his car for the snow.

“Mulder.”

He looked up to see Scully standing in the doorway wearing her white fluffy robe and her hair clipped back into a loose bun. She held up a steaming cup of coffee enticingly. “Morning,” he croaked. He gave her a weak smile and tried to comb his bedhead. Scully shook her head and hid her amused smile behind her hand and a fake yawn. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept.” She shrugged and dropped off the coffee onto a side table. “Come join us for breakfast when you’re ready.”

“I think I’ll just get going this morning back to Alexandria.”

Scully smirked and nodded to a window. “I doubt that, Mulder. The snow turned over to sleet and then back to snow overnight. The news is saying at least nine inches.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Come on, let’s get breakfast.”

“Scully, I really can’t impose. I have already done enough damage here.”

“Mulder,” she said calmly. She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. My family isn’t planning to burn you at the stake or anything.” He was taken back by the openness of the invitation. She watched his emotions play across his face and arched her elegant eyebrow. “Is it what we do? Our work? My abduction? What, Mulder?”

“How do you openly invite me here? Expect that your brothers and mothers won’t flail me alive?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “My brothers know we solve unusual cases for the FBI, the cold cases that others won’t touch. They don’t know anything about government conspiracies or anything like that. As long as you don’t say about green little men.”

“They’re gray,” he whispered.

“Green. Gray. I still have yet to scientifically prove it.”

In the span of a few seconds, the platonic partners were decidedly close to one another. Electricity sparked between the air and the strange feeling shifted between them again. Mulder licked his lips as the stray thought of kissing Scully popped up in his mind. Scully was leaning towards him, as if in a trance, before Mrs. Scully’s voice called from the kitchen. “Dana! Fox! If you don’t get in here soon, all these pancakes will be gone.”

With the spell broken, both Mulder and Scully blinked. “Pancakes,” Mulder asked.

“Scully family Christmas tradition. I told you mom is going all out even though it is January. It’s been forever since we’ve had a proper Christmas.” She glanced at the two stockings meant for her passed father and murdered sister. “Even if some of us couldn’t be here.” Mulder opened his mouth to apologize but Scully cut him off. “But I’m very happy you are here with me, Mulder. I really mean it.”

He nodded unable to find anything else to say. Mulder followed her into the kitchen to find Mrs. Scully standing with Charlie by the electric griddle skillfully making pancakes like an assembly line. Bill and Tara sat at the kitchen table reading the copy of The Washington Post from the day before. On the corner of the counter, a small black and white tv had the local news on.

“Boy, oh, boy!” Cried the news anchor. “What was supposed to be a few snow flurries has turned into a full-blow blizzard. Chase, what can you tell us about this storm?”

The camera panned to another man wearing a suit in front of a local weather map colored in various shades of gray, black, and white. “You are right, Craig. I wouldn't dare go out this weather. Last night, we were only looking at a couple of inches of snow and now the forecast is calling for totals up to 20 inches plus. Also, overnight, the snow briefly changed to sleet and then back to snow. Don’t even think about going out in this weather! It’s best to stay hunkered down until this storm passes through tomorrow morning. The drive-in is going to be a mess well so plan accordingly.”

“That’s one thing I don’t miss is snow,” Bill grumbled flipping the paper.

“I forgot,” Charlie called. “Sunny San Diego.”

“And you choose to live in the great white north,” the brother shot back.

“Maine is not the great white north. You’re thinking of Minnesota.”

“I would argue differently. I grew up in Massachusetts and have some memories of nasty winters.”

Mulder stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure where to go. Scully squeezed his hand discreetly and pulled him to a stool near the kitchen counter where she sat next to him.

“Where exactly did you grow up, Mr. Mulder?” Bill asked.

“The Vineyard,” he answered automatically. Charlie winked at him as he supplied Mulder and his sister coffee. He turned his attention to the small black and white television. “I can try and dig out later this morning, Mrs. Scully once the snow lets up and be out of your hair.”

“Nonsense, Fox. You are not driving back to Virginia in this weather. We’ve already gotten 13 inches and were forecasted to get 10 more. What’s one more mouth to feed.” She looked up and gave him a smile. Mulder did not know how to respond. “If you really want, you can help shovel my driveway.”

Scully smiled. “I tried to tell him that but I told you he is thick-headed.”

“He’s not the only one, Dana.”

“Hey, do you remember when we were in New Haven?” Charlie asked.

“As if you remember,” Bill snorted. “You were three.”

“How can anyone forget the Christmas tree being set on fire? It was clearly your fault. If I recall, I heard something about you trying to ‘light Christmas spirit.’”

“Even I remember it.” Scully grinned.

Mrs. Scully rolled her eyes. “Well, since we have a proper blizzard, why don’t we all just take it easy today. We can all take turns shoveling the driveway to make it more authentic.”

Mulder was about to say something else but Scully’s stern glare made him reconsider. “I think three men can manage that, mom,” Charlie chuckled. “So what does us leaving to do in the meantime?”

“Movies?” Tara suggested.

“Oh, AMC is doing a B-Rated Horror Film Marathon this weekend,” Charlie said excitedly. “That would be awesome.”

“Sounds right up your alley.” Scully elbowed Mulder.

He shifted stiffly and wondered just how much she had told her brothers about him and his far fetched theories. “You all can do that,” Bill shrugged. He remained focused on the paper. “There are some of dad’s things I would like to go through this afternoon.”

“Fun killer,” Charlie called as he skillfully flipped the next batch of pancakes. “Tara? What about you?”

“I would love to. That used to be a favorite thing to do with my sisters.”

“Honestly, Tara,” Bill scoffed. “We don’t have time for such childish things.”

“Shut up, Bill. We’re supposed to be celebrating Christmas, right? Staying in our PJs all day and watching tv was something we did in our family.”

“Ours was nothing but midnight masses,” Charlie added.

“Well, we can always improvise, “ Mrs. Scully answered, “but I doubt that would be any fun.”

“Then it’s settled.” Scully smiled but frowned when she saw Mulder focusing on some unknown spot in front of him. She frowned in frustration.

Breakfast continued without a hitch. Mulder withdrew into himself even further feeling alienated among the Scully clan. He felt trapped. He could take the chance and risk his car on the roads but Scully would save his ass and then kill him for his stupidity. A rouge hand took his own and squeezed it beneath the table top was all he needed to force the smile and endure this bizarre family holiday a bit longer.

The day seemed to be stuck in some sort of time zone because Mulder felt like he was experiencing deja vu. The last time he had experienced Christmas joy, any Christmas joy was the Christmas before Samantha’s abduction. The Mulder's had been a happy family then. But now, he somehow found himself swept along in marathons of horror films with Charlie, Bill’s polite decline to participate, and Tara, Scully, and her mother in the kitchen working on a makeshift dinner. The blizzard of 1996 continued on in spectacular fashion bringing more snow and ice.

At the end of the day, Mulder still found himself trapped with the Scullys with no means of escape.

That night, Mulder heard the grandfather clock in the hallway strike midnight, echoing throughout the silent house. He wished he was somewhere else.

In his makeshift bed on the living room couch, he still could not find a comfortable position. The blue light from the muted tv added to the eerie ambiance from the colored Christmas tree lights. It was nights like this he would call Scully just to hear her voice and his loneliness less palatable. But she was right upstairs and he did not think that he family (especially Big Brother Bill who had regarded him cautiously since his arrival) would take to it very kindly. Lost in his thoughts, he heard the silent scuffle of slippers against the wood floor.

“Still can’t sleep?”

He smiled, recognizing that voice from anywhere. “Could you?”

“I suppose not. Today wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be, was it?”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You wore you panic face throughout most of breakfast.”

Scully emerged from the shadows. Elegant no matter what, Mulder thought. His partner wore the same robe from the morning before except her hair was down. “You being here I think is helping mom too. The distraction is nice since Missy is no longer here. The first Christmas after dad passed it was a nightmare.”

“I’m glad I’m not too much of a burden.”

“You are never a burden, Mulder.”

He smiled coyly at her. “You know, it’s funny, Scully. I know the special agent but I don’t know the story behind Dana Scully.”

She chewed on her lips playfully and held out her hand. “Want to see?” Just in the past 48 hours, this new side of Scully that was emerging that he wanted to know more of. Playing her game, he grasped her hand and she lead him down the hall and upstair case. “Watch the second step from the top. It always makes a noise.”

Following her expert direction, they navigated the maze in the dark. Scully led him to a door furthest down the hall. She opened the door to reveal a room frozen in time that belonged to some sort of punk rock teenager. Faded posters decorated the wall above the bed. A black bookcase held numerous copies of books ranging from physics to Latin to Nancy Drew. In the corner was a small desk with a bulletin board covered in various ribbons from science fairs and a University of Maryland flag above it. There was a picture on the bulletin board that looked vaguely familiar.

“Is that you?”

Mulder squinted as he picked up the photo as she shut the door behind them. “I was a bit of a punk.”

“And science wiz,” he added, nodding to the ribbons. “Little Dana Scully was a rebel.”

“Not always,” she said slowly, trying to hide back a laugh. “I did get suspended in my sophomore year for almost blowing up the chemistry lab trying to prove a senior wrong.”

“You took chemistry as a sophomore?”

“Science wiz,” she reminded him. She sat on the bed and patted the space next to her. “I know I’ve told you numerous times but I’m really glad you are here. It’s nice having someone to…” She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re here, Mulder.”

He took the spot next to him. “I guess we should thank fate.”

She snorted in amusement. “I told you there is no such thing as fate.”

“This blizzard.”

“Convenient timing.”

He leaned closer into her personal space like he did when they were ready to verbally spare. She smiled and shook her head. Something must have shifted between them at that moment. Maybe it was the wintry atmosphere or some random static charge from the dry air, but he leaned forward, and almost teasingly, kissed her. A catalyst exploded between them. He expected her to pull away but she didn’t.

She deepened it.

Rational thought became lost and pure instinct took over. He cupped her face and held it for a moment longer. By the time they broke away to draw breath, words were pouring from his lips. “Scully, I’m sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to…”

The flood of apologies was stopped by a single order.

“Stop.”

He closed his mouth obediently. Her eyes had narrowed and she looked feral.

“There is nothing you should be sorry for. You...you are a good man, a good friend, Mulder…” Scully swallowed, already losing her courage. “And nothing would change between us.”

“Maybe I want them to change.”

Scully arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

Mulder did not know the exact moment he fell in love with her but the past two years and her abduction only made it worse for him. During her absence, he did not know how close he was to pulling that trigger and blowing out his brains. He never had such thoughts during the years after Samantha’s appearance but without Scully, life seemed worthless. But this moment...oh how he wished for this moment since he had laid eyes on her again.

“Change?”

“I wanted this,” he confessed, “for a very long time.”

“Mulder.”

“I understand if I have overstepped my bounds.”

He was panicking. This was falling apart, everything was becoming a slow-motion horrific accident. Thoughts of a ruined partnership, their work, being alone. He began to pull away. He needed to run. To escape.

“Mulder. Mulder!”

Her voice called out to him like a lifeline. He looked down as Scully took his hand and pulled him back down beside her. “I don’t want to ruin what we already have.”

“You won’t.”

Her hand rubbed his thigh enticingly and Mulder closed his eyes with flushed cheeks. It had been so long since someone had touched him like that. He heard the locking of a door and he knew then, he couldn’t escape. Her hands rested on his shoulders and trailed down his arms. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she hugged him from behind. “Despite me being a bit of a rebel in high school, most boys never made it this far. You’re the first,” she teased.

“First what?” Mulder breathed.

Once again during the past 48 hours, he was surprised at this side of Scully. Or was this Dana? “Mulder, don’t make me scientifically prove the nature of the whammy.”

He burst out laughing as Scully met his lips sensually and he was gone. Gone was his resolve any fears. Her hands had a mind all their own. Mulder sighed in between kisses and let Scully take the lead. Like a dancer, she came around to the front and kneeled in front of him. Mulder smiled and ran his hands down Scully’s hips appreciatively. “Scully,” he murmured. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. However,” she licked her lips. “Charlie's is right next door. My mother, Bill, and Tara are right down the hall. We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Quiet,” he chuckled. He turned serious. “Scully, we can still avoid this if you want.”

“Mulder, let me tell you something,” she began, “there was always something between us, wasn’t there?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“I remember,” she continued, slipping off her robe, “after my abduction, visiting with my mom and Missy. You came in with that stupid video.” She chuckled at the memory. “I know you only stayed briefly but I was glad you came.”

“I called you. Sorry, but meeting your big sister kind of unnerved me.”

“Worse than Bill?” She bit back a grin.

“I don’t know. I think Charlie likes me, but Bill…”

“Firstborn are usually stubborn.” Mulder raised his eyebrow in mock horror. “You are my evidence. After you left, Missy stayed with me until the morning. We talked a lot. About life. You. Cosmic connections. Us.”

“She came to my apartment one night before I got your call that you were back. Someone told me I was going to be killed and at that point, I had nothing to live for. You were gone. Samantha…” Mulder scoffed. “You were real. You were always real and something I could save.”

“We’ll still find your sister.”

“At the loss of yours?”

She gave a weak smile and gently wrapped an arm around his neck. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here with me now, Mulder. You were there that night.”

“But you still couldn’t say goodbye.”

She sighed and drew him closer. “Is that what’s been bothering you the entire time being here? Deep down?” Mulder looked down and felt the atmosphere become suffocating. “Look at me. It’s not your fault, Mulder. What happened to Missy is not your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“What about your mother?”

“Don’t worry about her. Or Bill. Or Charlie.”

Mulder lowered his head. How did always do this to him? Make him weak in the knees and doubt everything he has ever known. She brought him closer. “She told me once that we were, and I quote, ‘Once in a lifetime.’”

“Who? Your sister?”

She nodded. “The first time I told her about you. I was complaining about how were stubborn you were and she told me that is was no different than me.”

Mulder gave a weak smile. His mind was melted at this point. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this, Scully,” he whispered.

“Pictured what?”

“This.”

He pulled off her robe slowly and tossed it the ground. She shivered as the cold air hit her. Mulder saw the soft blue silk pajamas reflected in the soft light from the lamp. She blushed and whispered, “Lights on or off?”

“On,” he whispered reverently. “I want to see all of you.”

The first time he had a fantasy with her, Mulder had felt that he had committed the holiest of sins and paid with a bottle of tequila, a hangover, and a shiner on his eye that made Scully raise a suspicious eyebrow on the following Monday. But as much as he tried to fight it, he was powerless to do anything but give in. He was startled out of his thoughts as she ran her hand over him appreciatively and his body responded automatically. He let out a guttural moan; God, it had been too long since someone had touched him like that. “I’m just conducting a thorough investigation, Mulder,” she responded.

“I’m sure,” he swallowed, “but if you keep doing that, this won’t last long.”

“Well, we better get busy then.”

Mulder still could not believe this was happening. Blood rushed in his ears and he could hear the wind outside howled. Scully pulled Mulder’s shirt off first and gave a soft smile. He shivered himself as the cold air hit his skin. “Let’s get under the covers,” he whispered.

Her hands were distracting as they slipped beneath the small blanket of the double bed. He rolled to his side and slowly unbuttoned her top. Milky white skin slowly appeared and he touched her reverently slowly making his way up. When her first breast appeared, he knew she was a goddess fallen to earth. “Aphrodite, Venus,” he mumbled. He kissed her soundly and squeezed her breast slowly, trying to memorize everything. “A goddess come to life.”

Mulder grew bolder in his exploration moving his mouth to one breast and then the other, heaping worship upon her altar. She sighed breathily, raking her fingers through his hair, and leaned her head back. Mulder was already on fire but hearing her sigh “Mulder…” set him aflame.

Her arms wrapped around him and he felt her nails lightly scratch down his back. The cold and snow from the Blizzard of 1996 continued to rage outside. He could faintly hear little bits of snow and ice hitting the window glass but none of that mattered. For the first time in ages, he was alive and the icy loneliness that plagued his life had finally melted in her embrace. Time vanished and Mulder became a firm believer in missing time except, for this, he wanted his photographic memory to remember everything.

Mulder broke away from his adoration of Scully to look up and share a gaze with her. Her face was flushed as she smiled. “It’s been so long,” she whispered.

“Try to be quiet then,” he chuckled. He kissed her before disappearing the beneath the covers. His mind raced a thousand miles per hour and he didn’t know if he should take it slow or like a flash flood. He kissed her exposed abdomen, panting heavily. “What do you want?”

“I want to remember everything,” she breathed.

Mulder smiled and placed a series of kisses until he reached the waistband of her pants. She lifted her waist without command as he pulled them down. Mulder was intoxicated by both the scent of her and the thrill of the moment. Scully was already lifting her hips as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and pulled downwards. If Mulder was a religious man, he would be proclaiming a miracle. A variety of dirty thoughts came to mind but one stuck out in particular. Overcome with lust and passion, he nuzzled her lower half, almost bashfully, nuzzled her. She jerked in response. He sought and took her hand, calming her in the process. She relaxed slightly and felt something move above him: a pillow.

“Scully?”

“Fine,” came the muffled reply. Mulder strained his ears trying to discern if she was uncomfortable or not. “I’m good, Mulder.”

The tone in her voice threw him off. Was she in pain? Or was it something else. He began to hesitate but he felt her fingers run through his hair reassuringly. It was enough for him to continue. He went back to his ministrations, testing out this and that, teasing her until he felt her writhing beneath him. Scully’s hips lifted and he heard her muffled cries. That explains the pillow, he thought, smiling.

Mulder eventually broke away and slid back up to greet Mulder with a kiss. He was smiling; she was smiling. “That was amazing,” she chuckled. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“I hope not. A pillow, Scully? Really?”

“Shut up.” A devilish grin spread across her face. “Enough with the formalities, Mulder. Let’s get down to business.”

She reached into the drawer and pulled out a condemn. He raised an eyebrow with the unasked question. “It’s good. And I know we’re good…” She caressed his cheek. “Perks of also being your doctor.”

“Remind me to have you make house calls more often.”

With expertise he suspected that was from her medical education, Scully slipped on the condemn and rubbed him possessively. She smiled and whispered, “I want all of you.”

She tore off his shirt and sweats eagerly. Mulder lifted his hips and crushed her lips. Scully lifted her neck as he trailed a row of kisses down to shoulder where he bit into her shoulder blade, marking her. She lifted her hips meeting hip and let out a loud cry. She howled into her shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured into her ear.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispered. “The blizzard will only hide our...enjoyment for so long.”

“Well, I’m just getting started.

Something overcame both of them. Maybe it was desperateness, maybe it was the blizzard, maybe it was the moment. They both guided Mulder into her, working together as they did in everything.together. She sighed at the initial contact and moaned at the sudden fullness. “Oh, Mulder.”

He drew a sharp breath in. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no.” She tried to relax. “It’s just been a while.”

“Me too.” He started moving slowly and she shifted beneath him. “Scully, if I’m hurting you…”

“You’re fine, Mulder. I just didn’t expect you to be so…”

“What?”

“There’s a lot of you to go around.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Everything feels wonderful.”

Mulder focused his effort into trying to please her, no one but her. He wanted to make her forget the shadow the death of a lost sister had caused her along with her mother’s shame and the scorching glare that her big brother had been plaguing them since their arrival.

She breathed sharply and whispered, “More.”

He redoubled his efforts. He entwined their hands like vines and pushed them above her head. He attacked her with new fever, swallowing her breathy moans and sighs with his rough kisses. Gone were the thoughts of being trapped in a snowstorm but rather whatever it was they created. Mulder tried to show Scully how much he cared for her, what she meant, and that he would do anything for her. Her ankles crossed behind his back and dug into his muscles, holding him her. Then he felt it. She was coming with a quick series of contractions that pulled him over with her. Mulder howled into her shoulder as he became spent and collapsed on top of her. She ran her hands up in down his bare back as he withdrew, tied off the condemn, and threw it a small trash can.

“So classy,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re not a cheap date, Scully.” He was already shivering as he dashed back to her bed and to the warmth. She coiled around him and smiled against his chest. “You are like a little heater.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, G-man.”

Mulder rolled to the side and used his long arm to turn off the lamp. She whispered something to him and although he probably misunderstood, he slid out of the cold air to open the blinds slightly before rushing back under the covers to the warmth they had created. They watched the snowfall in the streetlights together. He rolled onto his side and pulled Scully’s bare form against him. “This is something I could get used to,” he teased gently.

As they watched memorized, the blinding winds had lessened slightly and now just gentle snow fell. They could see the pristine streets covered in an eerie glow from the orange street lights. Scully pulled his arm tighter around her. “I’m glad you are here,” she murmured loudly enough so he could just hear her. “When mom asked, I tried to think of an excuse not to come. Missy’s shadow still hanging over this house. The bad whatever left from me not being there or the fact it should have been me. It should’ve been me, Mulder.”

“I’m sorry for Missy,” he whispered, “I really am. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you again. I can’t lose you again.”

“I know,” Scully whispered. “But with you being here, right now. Stuck in a snowstorm. Making love in my childhood home, despite the rebelliousness of it, I am grateful you are here. I am happy to have you here with me, Mulder. You make this bearable.”

He was quiet for a moment before he answered. His emotions spun like the snow outside before it settled one conclusion. He hugged her tightly, vowing to protect her and keep her happy no matter what. “No place where I would rather be,” he replied. He kissed the crook of her neck. “Sleep.”

With a final sigh of contentment, Scully let herself drift off finally as Mulder kept vigil and watched the falling snow.

. . . . . . . . .

Sunday, January 7, 1996

Because they were creating their own Christmas holiday in January and the snowstorm prevented Mrs. Scully from attending mass with her family, she decided the next thing: celebrate a January Christmas on a Sunday. Charlie was the first to wake up that morning at four a.m, somehow beating his mother’s habitual early rising. He had always been a light sleeper as a result of his father’s early morning revelries. He slipped downstairs to start the coffee first and noticed the rumpled blankets and absent guest on the couch. He raised an eyebrow before smirking. He and Dana had always been close growing up. Unlike their old siblings, only a year separated Dana and Charlie and the two often found themselves partners-in-crime covering for each other’s adolescent antics. He smirked as he sipped his morning coffee, already guessing what had transpired judging by Mulder’s empty couch. He supposed that he could still be a reliable accomplice to his sister.

At 4:30, with his coffee in hand, he twisted the doorknob gently and found it locked; a tell-tale sign Dana was up to something. He jiggled the handout a bit more before rasping lightly against the white wood door. “Dana,” he called out quietly. He eyed Bill’s room and his mothers. “Dae.”

There was movement on the other side. Some muffled exchange and cussing about the cold. The door opened the crack and he saw his sister’s narrowed blue eyes in the twilight light from the Christmas tree downstairs. “I thought I would give you a wake-up call before mom or Bill got up. And Mulder too.” He smelled the familiar scent of a good night spent with someone wafting off her. “And you may want to clean up?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m the first one up, promise. And I won’t tell a soul. Take my coffee.”

“Not a word,” she breathed.

“See you in a bit.”

She shut the door soundly and Charlie bit back his laughter at the entire situation. Downstairs in the kitchen with only the stove light to keep him company, Dana emerged look fresh with Mulder trailing behind her like a puppy dog. Both avoided eye contact with him. Charlie stood at the kitchen counter, fighting a grin. “Coffee’s fresh. And I won’t tell a soul, promise.”

Mulder’s eyes shot up in alarm and glanced at Scully as some unspoken conversation occurred between them. She was pouring herself a cup. “Charlie already knows,” she moaned.

“How?’ Mulder asked.

“I’m not going to castrate you,” he shrugged. “Dae and I were partners in crime. We used to cover for each other when we would do more questionable things.”

“Like that library fire?” She asked.

“Once and they never caught me.”

“Don’t forget your big sister is an FBI agent.”

“Right. What are you gonna do? Arrest me, copper?”

Mulder watched the exchanged and wondered faintly if it would have been that way with Samantha. Charlie nodded towards Mulder. “He’s the best you’ve done.”

“I appreciate you have taken an interest in my taste of men,” she muttered. “Mulder, do you want anything?”

“I’m good, Scully.”

Charlie tilted his head. “Why do you call her that?”

“What?”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably.

“Why do you call her Scully?”

“Why not? She’s Scully,” Mulder answered. He shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s cute.”

“Charlie, remember I also know how to get away with murder if I wanted to,” Scully hissed. She blew on her cup of coffee. “And no one would be the wiser.”

“What else is new. If Missy could see you now.”

“You are bad enough by yourself.”

Mulder looked away at the mention of the Melissa Scully. Charlie took a cup of the cupboard and poured some coffee. He offered it to Mulder like an olive branch. “I don’t judge, Mulder. You’re good for my sister, despite what others may think.” The brother watched his eyes dart toward his sister. “I know about her abduction and everything else. You make her happy. I see it. I can hear about it every time we talk. You’re good for Dana. And that’s good enough for me. Even if you are sleeping with her.” Their silence was insinuating. “Oh, nice one, Dana. First time in mom’s house. In your childhood bed?”

“A needle between the toes with a small enough dosage to stop your heart,” she told Charlie ominously.

Her brother watched Mulder become at ease a bit and smiled. He took the cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t cross her, Charlie. She shot me once.”

“Dana’s all fire and no bite,” he replied.

Mulder glanced at Scully and pulled at his shirt to reveal a puckered bullet wound on his left shoulder. “Wanna bet?”

“No way.” Charlie bent closer to examine the wound. “Dana actually shot you?”

“To be fair, I was out of my mind. But your sister is good enough to perform surgery with a PPK and take it out with a field surgery kit in her apartment. I wouldn’t tease her.”

Charlie chuckled. “I have a scar on my arm from one our antics that never healed. Once she mars you, she owns you. Welcome to the club.”

The love-struck gaze between the two did not go unnoticed.

By six a.m., the rest of the Scully clan had awoken. Charlie watched the morning unfurl with delight. Dana was more reserved than usual. Mulder wouldn’t leave his sister's side. Bill had started mastering their father’s glare and directed towards Mulder. His sister-in-law and mother seemed ignorant. But Charlie also knew his mother.

Unlike Bill and Dana, he had followed a path similar to Melissa where he discovered his own way. After high school, he waited tables, eventually becoming a hotshot bartender in Philadelphia before finding a full-time job in marketing where he could utilize all the sale skills he had mastered throughout the year. He also learned how to read people. Mrs. Scully wanted to keep Mulder at a distance but she would not let her feelings disappointment show for Dana’s sake. By eight, there was a buffet of bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and biscuits and gravy. Everyone helped themselves to large portions (except Mulder and Dana who shared a plate). Dana made up an excuse about bad habits in the field. Charlie knew better.

By nine, there was the unofficial six o’clock Christmas roll call to be held fashionably late three hours later. Presents were exchanged and Bill’s glare seemed to grow. Halfway through the present exchange, Charlie excused himself to refill his coffee with Bill trailing his younger brother into the kitchen. “Are you helping me with the coffee now, Bill?”

Bill stalked behind Charlie and shut the door to the kitchen behind them. “Don’t you find it a little suspicious?”

The younger brother arched an eyebrow suspiciously as he poured a fresh coffee. “What are you talking about?’

“Dana and her partner.” Bill scrunched his face like a child at yucky food. “Mulder.”

“What about him?”

“Doesn’t this sit with as a bit odd or off?”

“What?”

“Them. What they’re doing.”

“You sound worse than dad. Dana is a grown woman. Let her do what she wants.”

“Haven’t you seen how he looks at her. There has to be more to it.”

“So what if there is, Bill? That is none of our business.”

“If dad could see Dana now, his little pride and joy, now. I knew the FBI was a bad idea. A boys club. I told you.”

“What are you trying to imply? That Dana should be at home and have a nice doctor for a husband?”

“Well, at least Melissa would be alive,” he spat.

“You don’t know that.”

Both brothers turned around to see their youngest sister’s eyes narrowed dangerously at her brothers. Charlie knew that scorching glare that she seemed to develop all her own. He looked away trying to find something that would occupy his time. “Charlie, stop hiding from me.”

“I didn’t say anything, Dana. You’re the one leaving Mulder alone with mom.”

“He’s a big boy and Tara seems to have taken quite a sign of affection to him.”

Her steely blue eyes zeroed in on Bill whose own look hardened in determination. “You know full well he doesn’t belong here, Dana. He’s already ruined this family enough. First with your abduction and then with Missy. Where does it end with him?”

“He had nothing to do with my abduction. And don't think I don’t know about who convinced mom to finally give up hope and get my headstone,” she hissed. “At least Mulder never gave up hope on me.”

“What was I supposed to do, Dana? Dad is gone and then, less than a year, you are too. How could you continue to put her through that? He was only making things worse.”

Scully slammed a coffee cup hard onto the counter with such force that she broke the handle off bashing her left hand. “Son of a bitch,” she hissed. She reached for a towel in order to stem the blood flow as Charlie looked down in alarm. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“Charlie? Bill? Dana? Is everything all right?” There mother’s voice came from the other room.

Bill watched his little sister continue to stare daggers at him. “Everything’s fine, mom,” Bill said. “Charlie and Dana were just cleaning up.”

Still aware of her smoldering gaze, he left without saying a word. Charlie looked at her impressed. “I think that’s the first time I have ever seen him shut up just be someone looking at him. FBI teach you that?”

“Sometimes we just learn that we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for,” she answered evasively. “Charlie, run to the first aid kit and grab it for me? I think it’s still under the sink.”

“Don’t you need stitches or something?”

“Probably but were we going to get that in this weather? Check the kitchen drawer. I think mom has some superglue in there.”

“You’re not serious, Dae.”

“If you can’t do it, go get Mulder then,” she snapped. She pulled back the towel to reveal a small gash going down her palm. “God forbid mom sees this.”

“I’m not the enemy.” He went to the kitchen drawer and began to search for the requested item. “Is it true that you actually shot, Mulder?”

“Yes.”

Scully was clearly distracted. She turned the sink on and ran warm water over the small gash. Charlie watched in amazement as his sister did not flinch as she cleaned the wound. She skillfully dressed the wound and thankfully did not need to glue the gash shut. He leaned against the counter as she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Dana?”

“I didn’t plan on this blizzard and I knew he wanted to leave. He’s been eyeing that exit since we came here. But I’m glad he’s here, Charlie. As fucked up it is sounds, he’s made this bearable for me.”

“Missy liked him, you know. She told me about him on the rare occasion we talked. I don’t what you all have going on and I don’t care what’s got Bill’s undies in a twist, he’s good for you, Dana.”

Scully motioned for her brother’s help and he tied off the bandage around her hand. “I’m glad to hear that,” she whispered. Scully flashed a smile. “I’m glad you get along with him.”

“He’s…” Charlie leaned against the counter, crossed his arm, and tried to find an answer. “He’s not what I expected from you, Dana.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Daniel? Marcus? What was that other guy’s name? Your FBI instructor…Jack?”

“Maybe I should have told Missy instead of you.”

“Oh, she told me everything as it was when I could get a hold of her.”

Scully grew quiet. “You miss her.”

“We all do,” she answered.

“Dana, Charlie, are you going to stay in the kitchen all morning?”

Their mother’s voice pulled them from the tension that surrounded them. Charlie motioned with his arm for Scully to reenter the living room. Big Brother Bill was discussing something with Tara. Mulder was talking to Maggie that caused her to laugh and try and hide it behind her hand. Bill glared at her partner and then directed his wrath towards Charlie.

“You certainly took your time,” the oldest brother stated. He narrowed his eyes as Mulder and then Scully. “What happened to your hand, Dana?”

“I must’ve cut it,” she said dismissively. Charlie sat next to his mother and Scully next to Mulder. “I’m okay, really.”

Mulder was staring at her the same way he did when he was on the edge of forming a theory. He gingerly lifted her bandaged hand for an inspection as her and Charlie’s gaze met. “Are you sure?” Mulder asked. Charlie could hear the pain in his voice. “Scully?”

“Fine, Mulder. I promise.”

“You need to be more careful, Dana,” their mother admonished. “Now, let’s continue where we left off.”

Charlie watched Dana smile and lean against Mulder’s shoulder. Bill cast a withering glare before picking up a wrapped present for Tara. If their mother suspected of something, she wisely kept silent and the peace.

At January 7th continued, so did the snow. Mrs. Scully continued to play hostess entertaining her children. They all tried to pass the time by watching endless movies on the television. There was a feeling of relative peace in the household. After dinner, Bill and Tara retired to bed early as did Charlie and Mrs. Scully. Something about the notion of endless snow made the household sleepy and go to bed early. Mulder and Scully were left downstairs on his makeshift living room bed watching the weather channel on television

Now that they were alone, Mulder was afraid of doing anything else that resembled what they had the night before in her bedroom. Now that they were alone, downstairs, he wondered what he was again doing here. Stuck in Baltimore. In the middle of a snowstorm. In her mother’s house. “So today was nice,” he started.

“Bill was such an ass,” she answered in a quiet voice. She lifted her bandaged hand to inspect it. “But Charlie seems to like you.”

“Does he know?” He took her bandaged hand and held in, resting it on his thigh. She arched an eyebrow as he suddenly pulled back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Mulder.” She played with his long fingers. “Last night wasn’t a mistake. I wanted it just as much as you.”

“But do you view it as a mistake. We can’t go back,” he said cautiously. “What happens when the snow is done and I go back to Alexandria, you go back to Georgetown, and we walk into the Hoover the next morning? What about the work?”

“The work,” she muttered. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Mulder, there’s more to it than the work. It’s our journey now, together.” He was quiet. “Or was I wrong in assuming so?”

He shook his head. “It became about you,” he whispered. “It’s all about you. When we were on the bridge and you were being held hostage by that alien bounty hunter and I had to choose you or my sister...the only thing I saw was you. The only thing I could think of was you. I mean, here was my sister but you were the only constant thing I had in a very long time.” He gave Scully a wistful smile. “You were one heck of a little spy.”

“Still trying to debunk your work,” she teased.

“What are we doing, Scully?” he asked. His eyes stared down the hallways that led upstairs to her sleeping family. “Last night…”

“What about last night?”

“Was it a mistake,” Mulder asked. He let his insecurity show. “What we did? I’m half surprised that you haven’t thrown me out into the blizzard.”

“Why would I do that?” She played with his hair. “What?”

“This is something else I can get past. This Scully…” He played with her fingers and the gauze bandage. “You are so…”

“What?”

“Relaxed,” he replied, unable to say anything else.

“Mulder, I told you the truth. I am glad you are here. You make all this bearable. The past few months since Missy’s death, I sensed some sort of...tension between my mother and me. I feel like a part of her wishes it should have been me instead of her. I told you that she and Missy were close like me and dad right?” She shook her head. “I am glad you are here with me, Mulder. I don’t know where we are going down this journey or what the next step will be,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this,” she motioned back and forth between “to stop.”

Mulder relaxed slightly and gave her a wistful smile. “You are full of surprises, Scully.”

“You said it yourself,” she replied with a smirk, “I’m an x-file.”

Only Scully could turn something he said into something so wonderful. “I want to believe…” he teased.

She leaned closer and kissed him with a sigh. Mulder lounged back into the couch taking her with him. Unlike the night before, they were not rushed this time. He felt like a teenager and was about to get in trouble. He shifted Scully so they both were on their side facing each other. “We can’t be too loud.”

“We could go back upstairs,” he breathed.

His hands were remapping her body, cataloging each sigh and twist of her body. When he found that magic little space between her legs, she gasped. Sensing there was more coming, he increased his ministrations. There was suddenly a different sound coming from upstairs: the creaking of old stairs.

“Wait, wait. Scully!” He hissed.

She bit into his shoulder as another wave of pleasure overtook her. The footsteps were growing closer and despite Mulder’s handy work briefly pausing, the sensations Scully was causing was making him extremely uncomfortable suddenly. “Scully,” he whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

“I’m trying,” came the rushed pant in her ear, “but you’re making this very hard by being so good.”

Mulder awkwardly pulled a blanket over her and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was asleep. Scully tried to smother a giggle that was threatening to erupt. Her hands played with him teasingly and he clinched his eyes in response. They both heard the footsteps drawing closer and Bill’s familiar voice mutter, “God damn them,” before stalking away.

Scully’s head emerged from underneath the blanket and looked at Mulder with hooded eyes. “What else do you do, Mulder?”

. . . . . . . . . .

January 8, 1996

The snow had finally stopped the next morning and it looked like an alien land as the snow reflected like crystals in the rising sun. Mulder stood by the front door, admiring the snow the stopped just below his knee through the glass storm door. He could walk through that, couldn’t he? The idea of facing Bill with the possible knowledge that he slept with his baby sister made him sick inside. Charlie was enough and did not seem keen on maiming him but Bill…

Mulder shivered.

Would he have been the same if Sam was alive? Sam...Melissa Scully. The crushing guilt came back suddenly as he was suddenly brought out of his reverie when Scully came up beside him with a cup of coffee. “He doesn’t know,” she murmured. “And even if he did, he wouldn’t say anything.” Scully eyed the snowfall. “And you wouldn’t make it down the block.”

“What makes you think I would be going alone?”

Her laughter was soft and she pulled at his hand, bringing him back into the kitchen. Mrs. Scully was making another breakfast fit for an army. Charlie was reading yesterday’s paper. Tara was watching the news while she helped her mother-in-law with the food preparation. Bill was conspicuously absent. “At least the weather has cleared up, Fox. They usually plow the roads within a day so you and Dana can get back to work. I must admit, I enjoyed your company as an added guest.”

“Thank you for not letting me freeze to death.”

Maggie chuckled. “I’m not cold-hearted, Fox.”

“Besides, the entire Scully family is not out to kill you,” Charlie added from behind the news section. Dana sat next to her brother and tossed a balled napkin at him. “I’m just stating a fact, Dana.”

Tara tore her eyes away from the television. “They are talking about shutting down the federal government for a few days because of the weather. Even if you could go back to work, you wouldn’t need to.”

“We’re classified as essential personnel,” Scully replied, “but it wouldn’t make a damn difference because of the government shutdown. We aren’t getting paid right now .”

“Think Newt Gingrich orchestrated this blizzard, Scully?”

“It’d be a convenient excuse anyways,” she laughed.

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you were still a doctor.”

All eyes spun to Bill who looked less than pleased that morning. “Bill, I told you to stay in bed. Throwing up all night.”

“Throwing up?” Maggie Scully raised an eyebrow, going into mother mode. “Are you okay, Bill?”

“Fine,” he groaned. “I saw something very unpleasant.”

He directed his scorching gaze towards Mulder as Tara and Mrs. Scully abandoned breakfast to baby Big Brother Bill back up to bed. Scully remained silent as Charlie folder the paper causally. “Well, Dana,” he murmured, “at least you still have one Scully on your side and that knows.”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“Don’t worry, Mulder. Bill hates everyone that Dana saw. You’re nothing special.”

Underneath the table, Mulder felt Scully squeeze his hand and give him a soft smile. Charlie set the paper aside and looked at his sister. “You were rather loud last night, Dana.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as Mulder wisely decided to take a sip of coffee and keep his mouth shut.

“For what it’s worth, Mulder. I’m glad you are here with Dana. Certainly spices things up in more ways than one,” he laughed.

Scully blushed and squeezed her partner’s hand as Mulder chuckled, unable to come up with a reply.

. . . . . . . . .

January 10, 1996

By Tuesday, the city and state authorities had worked through the past 48 hours to clear the roads enough for Charlie, Mulder, and Scully decide it was time to depart Maggie Scully’s house and get back to their own lives. Mrs. Scully said goodbye with Tara in front of the house. Mulder caught Bill’s scorching glare from upstairs. Goodbyes were said by Mulder, Scully, Charlie as they departed to go their separate way. As the FBI partners got into the recently unearthed car to head by to Georgetown.

“Not how you thought it would turn out, huh?”

“Not bad at all, Scully.”

“Bill certain hates you.”

“Well, your mother doesn’t. Yet.”

“Give it time,” he answered.

She laughed as they began the treacherous drive back to spend an extra day off together before the snows safely melted.

#xfiles #txf fic #xfeaster2019 #msr #msrfic #mulder and scully #mulder #scully #maggie scully #melissa scully (mention)#big brother bill scully #charlie scully #smut #it's long btw so apologies in advance #paper clip post ep

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teyriantimelord10 · 6 years ago

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“You have an ability humans have only dreamed of,” Peggy said firmly. “Use it. For both our sakes, don’t give up on her. For the past 25 years, my biggest regret has been that I’m living my life while you’ve been deprived yours. Go bring her back.”

(This is my fix-it-fic for Endgame in which Steve is ready to move heaven and earth to undo what happened to Nat on Vormir, and Peggy gets to live happily ever after with her husband. Read it on AO3 or under “keep reading” below. This is how it happened and nothing will change my mind...movie writers’ retconning bullshit interviews included.)

It felt surreal, standing on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers like a lovestruck teenager asking his sweetheart to prom. He knew who was going to open the door, and he was right. The man wasn’t particularly handsome in a traditional sense, with a short stature and a round figure, but above a slightly lopsided smile were kind eyes. The kind of eyes Steve recognized as a warrior who has been through hell and come out the other side determined not to let the weight of the world break him down. Maybe not a perfect soldier… but a good man.

“Christ almighty,” the man whispered through heavy breath. “It’s you. It’s really you. But, but, that’s not possible.”

“Can I come in?” Steve asked, trying to keep up his smile through the awkwardness.

“Of-of course,” the other man stuttered.

He stood aside and ushered Steve through the door, though when he looked down he noticed his hands were shaking. He wanted to reassure him that everything was alright and nothing was going to change, but that would be too much for him. Too much for them both. The inside of the house was almost exactly the way he pictured it would be. Peggy kept a clean home the way she kept a clean office and a clean team. The floors were immaculate, the window sills were free of dust, and the smell of a burning candle softly wafted through the living room.

“Darling, who’s at the door?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice calling from up the stairs. Her voice. There was the slightest hint of a rasp to it, probably from a long day of yelling orders, but still as melodious and beautiful as he remembered. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another and squeezed the flower stems in his hands until he felt a soft crunch. All these years of planning for this moment and he still wasn’t ready.

“It’s… It’s Captain America,” her husband replied without taking his eyes off Steve.

The ring of shattering glass was suddenly echoing through the house, followed swiftly by the fast clicking of high heels on wood flooring. In barely the time it took him to blink twice, she was standing in front of him with her face as pale as if she had seen a ghost. Well, he suppose she did. The slightly girlish touch of her youth as he had known her during the war was gone, but the powerful woman he loved remained, and that was what mattered most. He had seen her in her beginning and at her end; now they were meeting in the middle. Finally where they should have been a long time ago.

“Hi, Peg,” he said as strongly as he could through the wavering in his voice. “Sorry I’m late.”

He had played the hypotheticals in his mind a thousand different ways. Would she scream at him? Would she be glad? Would she break down sobbing? Would she throw him out? The few seconds it took her to process felt like years, but finally a wide smile came over her lips and tears began to stream down her face.

“You’re alive,” she managed to choke out through the sobbing and the laughter. “Steve, you’re alive!”

He wanted to run forward and pull her into his arms and hold her for hours on end, but he was acutely aware of how her feet were planted in place, and that her husband was staring at them slack-jawed.

“I can’t stay for long, but I owe you a dance.”

He thought of Peggy as he trudged across the empty sands. He’d been walking for miles and hours now. On Earth, night would have come and gone by this time, but the landscape was still cloaked in the same pale darkness with a slight gloss of purple from the eclipsed sun. His boots were soaked through in some liquid that looked like water, but smelled like sulfur and made his skin itch and tingle. The air felt humid and warm, and yet chilled his throat the same way a winter night would on a night mission back home. There was not a doubt in his mind that this was the kind of place capable of driving a man mad. But that wasn’t an option. He thought of Peggy, thought of everything he had missed on ice and everything he had gained after waking up. He thought of his mission.

Finally, the two spires he had been searching for appeared on the horizon, just as menacing as Clint and Nebula had warned him. He took as deep a breath as the atmosphere would allow and looked at the timepieces on his wrist. Bruce, Janet, and Hank had designed two watches designed specifically for his mission: one that aligned to where ever (whenever) he was, and one that timed his days away as a whole, as a way of knowing how much of his life had been devoted to this task to keep him from losing all sense of time and direction. 482 days and counting away from Earth… away from home. All the other Infinity Stones had been returned. This was his final task, and there was no way of knowing how it would end. He couldn’t take it anymore, and took off into a sprint. He ran until it felt like his knees were going to give out and his lungs were going to fail, but he at last reached the foot of the mountain. Steve touched the pouch on his pocket and felt the ebbing warmth from within, and all the dread and hatred that came with it. Still, a knot of hope rose in his throat at well. A familiar conversation came to mind.

“This is gonna work, Steve.”

“I know it will. Because I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t.”

This was going to work.

As he ascended the winding path up to the gateway, the warm dampness swiftly disappeared as he rose, being instead replaced with thin air and what could have been mistaken for falling snow. It smelled and felt more like ash. A faint vibration began bristling against his ears, so he removed the shield from its magnetic holster and strapped it onto his arm. He wasn’t sure what would meet him at the top, but he was very glad that he came prepared when he saw the cloaked figure hovering above the ground. However, he never in 10,000 could have prepared for what he saw then the phantom lifted his hood.

“Are you enjoying your future without flags, Captain?” Schmidt’s voice echoed hauntingly around the entire cliff face.

Steve threw his shield only to have it pass right through Red Skull and ricochet off the rocks behind him. Rage boiled in his stomach and under his skin. He thought of Peggy. What cruel trick was it that after all these years, he’d come face to face with the spectre of the man who stole his life. Stole his future. Stole his best friend. Stole his chance to be with the woman he loved so dearly. And to not be able to bash in that horrible scarlet face.

“I’m not here for you, Schmidt,” Steve growled. “There’s a deal you owe me.”

An eerie chuckle seemed to come from behind him, but Steve knew better than to turn and look.

“I don’t have the stone anymore.”

Steve took the opportunity to smirk as he pulled the Soul Stone from his belt.

“I do.”

The entire atmosphere of the mountain changed in a heartbeat. A gust swept around them and then elevated like a vacuum, nearly sucking all the air out of his lungs. The previously still sky tore open and he looked up to see what looked like a vortex forming above their heads; a tunnel of swirling clouds that reached up into the infinite darkness.

“A soul for a soul. That’s what you told Clint,” Steve shouted over the whirring of the column. “I give you this soul, and you give me one back. That’s how it works.”

“Give it to me!” the ghost screeched, diving down toward him, but Steve quickly rolled to the side of the cliff and extended his hand over the edge that dropped into a chasm so deep he could barely see the bottom.

He nearly vomited imagining all the things that happened here. All who had died in vain… and more importantly the ones who had not.

“A soul for a soul, Schmidt,” Steve repeated. “Give her back and I’ll let it go.”

He could see the seething rage burning in the Red Skull’s eyes.

“I do not have the power to make that bargain nor the arcane knowledge to see if this foolishness with succeed,” he said venomously. “I am merely the gatekeeper, not the source.”

Steve swallowed hard. So no matter what, there was no way of knowing. No way of fighting his way through to get what he wanted. He just had to have faith, and have hope that the stone could sense that he’d put his very soul into bringing her home… Bringing their Natasha home.

He almost didn’t notice the burning against his palm and fingers until he looked away from Red Skull and over to his own hand. The Soul Stone was glowing and heating with such intensity that it had eaten its way through his leather glove and into his skin. He held on as long as he could, endured as much of the pain as his body could handle. It was sinking down, down past his skin and into the flesh, the scalding of it beginning to melt into his bones. A shot of pain ran up his arm and throughout his entire body, clawing at his nerves and muscles until he had no choice but to let go. Steve’s eyes watched as the stone descended further and further into the canyon, falling almost indefinitely like a flair. But the moment it finally struck the bottom, a wave of light surged over the peak, and then fell into complete darkness. In the last second, he thought about Peggy.

“I don’t know what to do, Peg,” he admitted, pulling her a little closer and they swayed back and forth together. “I lost Bucky, then I lost you, and now I’ve lost her too and… I loved her.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look up at him with those rich, wise eyes.

“You have an ability humans have only dreamed of,” she said firmly. “Use it. For both our sakes, don’t give up on her. For the past 25 years, my biggest regret has been that I’m living my life while you’ve been deprived yours. Go bring her back.”

Steve kept his eyes shut while he evaluated his body. His entire right arm ached and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with sand, but other than that everything was… fine. The agonizing pain was gone like the lost memory of a forgotten nightmare. He heard a groan that seemed to express exactly he felt, but it wasn’t his.

It wasn’t his.

In an instant, Steve’s eyes snapped opened and he shot upright to a sitting position. He was sitting in a shallow oasis amidst the endless sand, but surprisingly didn’t feel any damper than before. Nighttime still hung over the landscape, but this time he didn’t marvel at the strange horror and beauty of the planet. He heard another groan and frantically looked around until he found the source of the sound. Lying a few yards away from him was a figure curled in on itself, knees tucked to chest and body visibly trembling in the dimness. Steve held his breath and prayed as he stumbled his way over. As he got closer, his entire heart almost exploded in joy as he caught the sight he had been hoping for most… red hair.

“Natasha!” he cried out, finally reaching her side and scooping her into his arms.

Her eyes were still closed and fluttering, like a child trapped in a bad dream. Even through the thick layers of her tactical suit, caked in dirt and blood, she started shaking even harder at his touch. Steve’s joy quickly melted into fear.

“Come on, Nat, wake up,” he whispered, slowly rocking them both back and forth. “We need you… I need you.”

Natasha’s face began to contort in what looked like pain, brows furrowed and lips twisting. The panic in Steve’s chest grew stronger as she let out a longer, louder moan. The bitter taste of dread made him wonder if he had made a mistake. Was this it? Had be bargained for her soul only to bring her back into a broken body?

“Come on,” he repeated, feeling tears well in his eyes. “Please, Nat. Please, wake up.”

He didn’t know what he would do with himself if he came this far only to lose her again. Too many times in his life, Steve had lost someone once just to lose them again. Bucky. Peggy. He couldn’t do it again, not with Natasha too. He’d do anything, give anything.

But after a few moments, she stilled. Her trembling stopped, her face relaxed, and her mouth opened slightly with the escape of a small hiss.

“Sss…. Sss�� Steve?”

It took every ounce of willpower in his body to keep from embracing her as tightly as he could.

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” he answered softly.

As her eyes slowly opened, he noticed a faint orange glow tinting the green of her irises that gently faded away when she began to blink into lucidity. The haze of disruption on her face gave way to realization, and the entire air around her seemed to light up when a small, exhausted, smile pulled at her lips. Steve could not remember the last time in his life he had felt so relieved.

“Hey,” she said hoarsely. “Did we bring them back?”

Steve choked on a laugh that no power of heaven or earth could have stopped.

“You brought them back. And now we have you back too.”

Natasha gingerly wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder. He had a million questions for her, but they could wait. Instead, he did his best to quiet his mind, and he thought of Peggy. He thought of everything she said to him with her wisdom and encouragement and guidance, of how she didn’t let him give up. He took a few moments to luxuriate in the warmth of having Natasha back in his arms again... Having his life, his love, his world back in his arms again. He’d have to find a way to thank her for that.

“I missed you,” Natasha murmured against his chest.

Steve gently kissed her forehead.

“I missed you too,” he replied, and scooped under her arms and legs so he could carry her as he stood. “Let’s go home.”

#romanogers #avengers endgame #endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #peggy carter #peggy carters husband

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ladylynse · 6 years ago

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Together: [FF | AO3] “We’ll always be together,” Maddie had promised, but then there was the accident, and they weren’t. Until she came back. Warning: Character death.

Written for the 2019 Phic Phight! Largely based off a prompt by @hauntedjoanns (After a freak lab accident, the Fentons bury Maddie. But she comes back.) but also incorporating one of @quishaphantom‘s prompts (Start and end the fic with the same sentence, the first time it's positive and happy. The second time it's chilling and foreboding.). This is about 6.7 K and is set after The Fright Before Christmas.

Now with some awesome fanart by @dannyphandump!

“We’ll always be together. We’re a family, and we’re Fentons. A silly little feud like this isn’t going to break us apart.” Maddie sat down on the foot of Danny’s bed and smiled at him. “You know that, right, sweetie?”

She thought he didn’t want to talk about what had happened at Christmas, when in reality he’d spent half his time with his friends and the rest in the Ghost Zone celebrating the Christmas Truce—and, on a more personal level, the end of the Ghost Writer’s infernal rhymes. Had he been in his room when she’d first knocked and begun talking to him outside of his door, soothing him, trying to coax him into opening it, she might not have this impression. She’d believed his apology when he’d come back with the presents, but considering she and Jack had run out fairly soon afterwards…. Maybe she thought they’d ruined it for him again, since he’d disappeared for so much of the evening.

He wondered how late it actually was.

He probably should’ve come back sooner, spent more of his Christmas with them, but once he’d gone, the food in the Ghost Zone had been unexpectedly good. It had been real, fresh, and surprisingly not contaminated, unlike everything in the Fenton household. But he could make it up to them tomorrow; he was off school for another week and a half, and all he had to do was find out from Jazz which weapons it was safe to pretend to be interested in. Once he asked about those, maybe agreed to go on a quick patrol with his parents and take down an ectopus or something, they’d believe the truth when he told it: that he really didn’t harbour any hard feelings about how they’d acted all these years, not anymore.

“I know, Mom,” he answered dutifully.

“Sometimes we fight; every family does. And, sometimes, things escalate. And sometimes our dinner is contaminated and gains sentience.” Her lips quirked into another smile, and he smiled, too. There had been too many disasters in the past for them to ignore that. “But we’ll handle each problem as it comes, honey. I promise you; nothing like that will ever separate us. You and Jazz are more precious to us than anything else in this world or the Ghost Zone. We love you both. I don’t want you to think anything is going to get in the way of that, or of our love for each other.”

He just nodded. It wasn’t like he could tell her the truth about why he’d run away—well, the whole truth, anyway—or how he’d come to be surrounded by formerly-possessed Christmas trees or where he’d gotten the presents he’d given to them in the end. It was easier if she believed his behaviour was due to the Christmas feud, of how she and Jack had carried on, of how they’d run out in pursuit of ghosts. Honestly, it was rather sweet that she’d come to reassure him. He just didn’t need the reassurance.

“You can talk to us, honey. About anything.”

She suspected there was more to this. If he brushed her off now, she’d find a way to bring it up again. Danny untangled himself from the covers so he could give his mom a proper hug. “I know,” he repeated, “and I love you guys, too. Like I said before, I overreacted earlier, and I’m sorry. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you when you came up tonight; I just fell asleep early. I didn’t hear you right away.” The lie fell easily from his lips, and he forced a laugh as he finished with the truth. “It was a long day.”

“I’ll let you get back to sleep, then.” She kissed his cheek before he had a chance to contemplate escape. “Good night, Danny. I love you.”

“Night, Mom. Love you, too.”

XXXXX

Danny woke to wailing alarms, sleepiness falling away as adrenaline filled him. He transformed—

—and four ecto-energy seeking weapons sprang out of the walls to focus on him. He groaned and changed back before they could fire. Who had activated the Fenton Anti-Creep Mode? His ghost sense had never gone off, so it wasn’t like someone had breached the Fenton Ghost Portal again. He grabbed his ecto-gun off the shelf with his model rockets (he refused to sleep with it under his pillow, despite what his parents wanted) but didn’t even bother shoving his feet into slippers before running into the hallway.

His parents’ bedroom door was open. So was Jazz’s. A quick peek inside both rooms proved that they were empty, as was the bathroom, so Danny started down the stairs. He saw Jack pushing Jazz towards the front door, but before he could open his mouth to ask, one of Jack’s hands had grabbed his and was tugging him down the last of the steps.

“What happened?” Danny asked, twisting to look behind him.

His father’s face was unusually grim. “Outside, you two. Mads and I will deal with this.”

“Deal with what? What’s going on?”

“Wait for us across the street,” Jack said, and then he slammed the door in their faces, leaving them standing on the stoop in their pajamas.

Danny looked at Jazz, who shrugged and rubbed her arms. “Ghost?”

He shook his head. “My ghost sense never woke me up.”

“And it always does?”

“Kinda hard to sleep through a sudden freezing sensation.” Truth was, though, he didn’t know that his ghost sense always woke him up. How could he? He’d still be asleep.

“Maybe it’s a drill, then.” But the alarm was still ringing inside, and Jazz didn’t look convinced. Every other family drill they’d had had come with reminders—never trust a ghost, always remember technology may have been infected, never back yourself into a corner, always keep at least one weapon within arm’s reach, that kind of thing—and it seemed unlikely that they’d stop now.

They’d never had a ghost drill in the middle of the night before, either, for all that his parents had threatened it. He watched some of the lights flick on in the neighbouring houses and realized why. More than one disgruntled face looked out the window before turning away and disappearing into darkness, realizing it was just the Fentons. Again.

“This is probably to keep us on our toes,” Jazz said lightly. She took his ecto-gun from him and shoved it into a pocket in her housecoat—hers was already in the other pocket, judging by the bulge—before crouching in front of him. “Come on; climb on. You’re barefoot, and powers or not, I don’t want to find out if you can lose any toes to frostbite.”

Neither did he, so Danny climbed on her back. She hadn’t given him a piggyback ride in years, but she shuffled across the street and waited under the streetlight. As the wind picked up, bringing with it a few flakes of snow, he could feel her shivering beneath her thin housecoat. He wished there was something he could do to help, but with the possible exception of a ghost shield—

“Cold wind,” Jazz commented after a moment, but her voice was high, wrong, and Danny suddenly realized that she wasn’t shivering; she was shaking.

He clutched her tighter, turning them both intangible except for the soles of her feet and slippers, as if it would help them escape from the chest-constricting feeling that was settling over them.

Something was wrong.

Something he couldn’t stop.

Something she couldn’t fix.

“We have to go back in,” Danny whispered. He didn’t know how long it had been. Too long. It must have already been too long. Their parents should have come out to get them ages ago. They should have—

The alarms finally cut off. He flew them both back across the street, past caring that someone might see. If they did, they’d just explain it away, like they explained away everything else. It was just the Fentons, after all. Just the Fentons, steeped in their paranormal studies again, inventing strange things and talking about it to anyone close enough to listen.

Danny didn’t drop their intangibility until they were safely inside. Jazz was running for the basement lab before his feet even hit the kitchen floor, but he wasn’t far behind her.

The door to the lab wasn’t closed like it usually was, like it was supposed to be, but he took the stairs two at a time without stopping to wonder why. The Christmas Truce was no longer in effect, but the ghosts weren’t that cruel; they wouldn’t have planned something for the moment the Truce ended.

And his ghost sense had never gone off.

“Dad?”

Jazz’s voice sounded strangled, as if she had to force herself to speak. As if she were trying not to cry. Danny caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs and finally let himself look around. The emergency lighting was on, softer lights lining the walls and disappearing up the emergency exit tunnel to the backyard, but he didn’t need the usual harsh fluorescence of the lab to know that something had happened here. Broken glass, splattered ecto-samples, scorch marks along the far wall.

A lingering smell of burnt something, acrid and plasticky and maybe a bit acidic.

“What happened?”

There was definitely panic in Jazz’s voice now.

Danny followed her gaze and swallowed as he recognized the black boots sticking out from behind the examination table. The rest was hidden by his father’s hulking form, but—

“Dad.” Jazz’s voice cracked. “How’s Mom?”

Jack’s shoulders shook, and something inside of Danny twisted.

A choked sob was Jazz’s only answer.

Danny couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat back again as the world blurred.

XXXXXXXX

Jack explained it to them later, as much as he could explain it. Maddie had gone down to the lab to tinker with something. A surprise, she’d called it. Wouldn’t tell him the details, but he had a few guesses, none of which mattered now. Something shorted out. Something got knocked off the shelf. The order of events wasn’t entirely clear, but some of their ecto-samples had been released, and not just the standard ectoplasm ones. Danny was pretty sure Jack had mentioned a suspected hallucinogen, though he wasn’t sure which ghost was supposed to be involved in that. Maybe it wasn’t a ghost at all. He hadn’t realized his parents had ever done a scouting mission into the Ghost Zone, let alone collected some of the native flora, but maybe they had. Or maybe that had been part of his mother’s surprise.

Whatever the exact circumstances, Jack hadn’t been able to save her in the end. Something had gone wrong, something Danny couldn’t stop, something Jazz couldn’t fix, and now—

Jazz put a cup of hot chocolate in front of him.

He hadn’t realized she’d gotten up to make something. Hadn’t noticed her leave her spot at the table, hadn’t heard the kettle’s shrill whistle or the clink of the spoon against the cup. She’d made one for each of them.

She’d made three.

It wasn’t enough.

Danny wrapped his hands around his mug, lifting it to his face to breathe in the steam, but it couldn’t warm him, and his stomach twisted after the first sip.

He didn’t drink the rest. Jack never touched his. By the time Jazz finished hers, it must have been ice cold.

They sat in silence, trying to come to terms with everything, until the phone rang. Jazz jumped up to get it, and Jack shot her a grateful look, and then there was too much to do to sit in silence. There was too much to do to think. Contacting all their relatives, breaking the news to Vlad, talking to the funeral home and getting all those preparations in order, writing the obituary and getting it in the paper, picking up Aunt Alicia from the airport, talking to the florist, the bank, the accountant, the lawyer, the insurance company, finding out who needed to know what and by when and which places needed a death certificate and—

None of them were sleeping.

It was a good thing he didn’t need much sleep anyway.

People kept stopping by to bring them food and their condolences, which was just as well, because Danny didn’t think they could eat any of the food in their house anyway. Not that any of them were hungry. They were too tired to be hungry, stuck in cycles of shock and grief as reality started to sink in. But they did try to eat, since it was there.

The ghosts stayed away, though.

Danny thought he might have Vlad to thank for that, but he didn’t ask.

XXXXXX

A lot of people turned up for the funeral.

Danny didn’t know half of them, but they knew him, and they shook his hand or hugged him or touched his shoulder. In hindsight, it made sense; everyone in town knew the Fentons. But it was weird, seeing all these people show up, all these people being sad for someone he wasn’t sure they’d really known. Sometimes people cried instead of trying to talk to him, and he always got tears in his eyes, too. If he let himself think about it, he cried. He tried to distance himself, tried to distract himself, just to get through it.

He couldn’t remember anything anyone said to him at the funeral.

He had a vague recollection of being at the cemetery, of the cold seeping into his bones, of the wisps of snow skittering across the ground at their feet, of the way the artificial turf didn’t quite cover the mound of dirt that had been displaced. He remembered looking up at one point and seeing Valerie standing there with her dad, and he remembered thinking that she knew what this felt like. Unlike Sam and Tucker, she knew.

He remembered wondering if he could ask her how long the pain would last, but he hadn’t known how to ask the question, and there had been too many people at the reception, anyway.

He’d nibbled at the food on the plate Sam had brought for him, but even when she and Tucker had sat with him at a table, talking more to each other than to him, it hadn’t been enough.

Was any of this his fault, even partially? Had she been doing something in response to how he’d been acting? Had she been hoping to surprise him? Had it really been a freak accident or had it been a targeted attack on her because he was Phantom? Would things have been different if she’d known the truth? His mom had always taken more safety precautions in the lab than his dad, and he knew theirs wasn’t exactly the safest profession to begin with, but—

At least he’d told her he loved her. At least he had that. But he hadn’t spent…. He’d left them, left them all, when he shouldn’t have, and she’d thought…. She’d…. If only he’d….

Danny cried himself to sleep that night.

Again.

XXXXXX

When Danny woke, it took him a few seconds to orient himself. He was in his room, of course, in bed, but he couldn’t remember falling asleep. It had been after three in the morning when he’d last looked at the clock and sworn to himself that he wouldn’t look at it again, and—

Bright red numbers informed him that it was half past six. It was still dark outside. The house was quiet. He couldn’t remember dreaming. He wondered dumbly what had woken him.

And then a shiver ran through him, and he coughed, and he realized his grace period was over.

He wasn’t ready for normal, wasn’t ready for any semblance of normal, but the ghosts weren’t going to wait any longer.

Danny grabbed the ecto-gun off the shelf, picked up the thermos he’d started storing next to it, and shuffled his slippers onto his feet.

He didn’t want to fight.

But he didn’t want to lose anyone else, either.

And maybe it would just be the Box Ghost, and Danny could give him some cereal boxes and send him over to Vlad’s to look for more and be done with it. He shouldn’t, considering Vlad had agreed to put up Aunt Alicia and take her back to the airport in the morning, but Vlad would just call Valerie anyway. Frankly, Danny was happy to leave the ghost hunting to Valerie for a while.

Something fell. Shattered, from the sound of it. Maybe it was the Box Ghost after all. Or Technus after the toaster again. Or the Lunch Lady, stocking up on semi-sentient meat. Danny headed downstairs and walked towards the kitchen. He didn’t want to do this, but Jack and Jazz hadn’t been sleeping well, either, and if he could deal with this before either of them woke up—

He crossed over the threshold of the kitchen, blinked, and froze.

It was a cloudy night. Some light from the streetlamps spilled inside, but he didn’t need that to be sure of what he was seeing. Ghosts always had their own glow, however subtle, and it was his ghost sense which had woken him up. Even running on very little sleep, Danny knew there was no mistaking what he saw.

Maddie stood over the shards of her glass mixing bowl, and when she looked up at him, she smiled. “Hi, sweetie,” she called softly.

He took a step back.

“Did I wake you? I just wanted to make some cookies.”

He took another step back.

“Did you want some water? Let me get you some water.”

She glided smoothly over broken glass to the cupboard by the sink, and after a moment’s concentration, she had a glass in her hand and was fighting to grasp the tap, to turn it on and fill a glass of water for him.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard running water, and he didn’t look back.

XXXXXXX

They didn’t talk about it. There was no screaming, no crying, no denials. No one drew any weapons, either.

Not even Jack.

She’d made sure they didn’t have any weapons left to draw.

None of them had ventured into the lab until her return, but she had, probably that first night. As far as Danny could tell, what she couldn’t destroy, she’d simply tossed into the Ghost Zone. Whether the genetic lock recognized her or whether she simply used her knowledge of it to get around all the protocols, he didn’t know. He did know that she’d deactivated the Fenton Anti-Creep Mode, probably at the same time she’d stolen his dad’s arsenal and swiped his sister’s ecto-gun and thermos.

She hadn’t found his yet, despite watching him carefully behind a too-sharp smile.

She didn’t know he’d hidden them in his bedroom wall that first night.

She still didn’t know he could.

She must have never talked to any of the other ghosts. Not that he thought they’d talk to her, except maybe Plasmius, but Vlad didn’t know or he’d be here. He’d probably come even knowing this wasn’t really Maddie anymore; he’d just be desperate to see her one last time. But he wouldn’t come without knowing, and as far as Danny could tell, the other ghosts were still avoiding the Real World—or at least avoiding his little corner of it.

He’d even tried calling Cujo, to no avail. Either Cujo hadn’t heard him or he couldn’t get through whatever Maddie had reconfigured to keep other ghosts out. There was definitely something. Danny kept hitting a barrier, presumably the Fenton Ghost Shield, every time he tried to phase all the way through an outside wall. Trying to phase through the ground didn’t work, either; whatever it was passed through the earth, too, which might be what was messing with Cujo’s ability to create portals if he had heard Danny’s call.

Intentional trap or not, it meant Danny couldn’t sneak messages out that way. Or any way, really, considering Maddie had destroyed their computer, their phones, and everything else she thought they might ultimately use against her. Since their routines had been so disrupted, no one was going to question this. Even Sam and Tucker had been trying to give him space, sending only the occasional message to check up on him with assurances that he didn’t have to answer right away and promises that they’d be there if he ever wanted to do something, whether that involved talking about what had happened or avoiding the subject at all costs. Not hearing from him for a few days would have been weird before, but not now.

It was…strange. They were all walking on eggshells, trying to adjust, trying to figure out the boundaries without pushing too far. They didn’t know what the consequences would be, not yet, but they still feared them. Feared this. Feared what Maddie had become.

Danny was finally beginning to appreciate some of his parents’ theories on ghosts.

Then again, ghosts were as much a culmination of people’s beliefs around the afterlife, around ghosts, as they were people’s spirits and echoes of their lives.

And Maddie had believed ghosts had obsessions.

She had believed they didn’t feel pain.

She had believed they had no true emotions, merely masks, and that they were expert manipulators.

She had believed they couldn’t be trusted.

Some of that certainly held true now, but he didn’t yet know how much.

Danny lay in his bed with his eyes closed. Not pretending to sleep—she wouldn’t believe that—but content to use it as an excuse to think. She was watching him. He knew that. She was watching him the most closely of all, probably because she’d come to realize she could trust him the least.

Danny wasn’t sure, if it came down to it, if Jack would be able to fight her. She was a ghost, but she was his wife. That might change things, just as knowing he was Phantom might change things, if he ever gave it the chance. It wasn’t quite the same—she was dead, a proper ghost; she had no body, no human side to embrace, not anymore—but for every fear he’d ever had about them finding out, he now found himself thinking that the opposite would happen here. They wouldn’t have attacked him for being Phantom, and Jack wouldn’t attack Maddie now.

Even if he had the opportunity, even knowing what he did, he’d hesitate.

She’d know what to say to make him hesitate.

And then she’d act before he could, and the opportunity would be lost.

Jazz wouldn’t be any better. He could pass a weapon to her without explaining how he still had it, but she was trying to get through to their mom. To talk to her. Remind her of who she really was, not this façade, this shadow. Jazz wouldn’t want to attack until she was convinced it was too late, and if he talked to her about this, she’d just ask for him to give her time.

He wasn’t concerned about keeping his secret from his dad anymore; he just wanted to keep it a secret from his mom. It was the only advantage they had. Telling Jack anything now just ran the risk of Maddie finding out, especially since Jack wasn’t great at subtle.

It would be different if Maddie hadn’t changed. But for all that the ghost of his mother smiled at them and baked batch after batch of cookies, the ghost wasn’t his mom. Not really.

There was a thump across the hall. Jazz. Danny opened his eyes, climbed out of bed, and met her in the hallway. Her eyebrows rose a fraction, and he gave his head a minute shake. It wasn’t safe to talk. Maddie was listening.

Jazz risked reaching for the front door handle, but Danny wasn’t surprised when her hand fell away and she kept pace with him into the living room. The doors in the house weren’t locked, per se, but they wouldn’t open, either. Neither did the windows. No doubt the Fenton Ops Centre was locked down as tightly as the Fenton Ghost Portal—and, presumably, the emergency exit to the backyard.

Jack looked up from his needlework. “You kids all right?” The stitches Danny could see were tiny, tight, but he wasn’t much farther along than he had been last time Danny had looked. Likely as not, he kept picking them out.

“We’re great, Dad,” Jazz chirped, but her eyes told the real story.

They were a family of ghost hunters trapped in their own home by a ghost who had been one of them, who knew their usual tricks. Jazz hadn’t been making any progress with her psychology, Jack seemed at a loss for what to do, Danny wasn’t sure of the best plan of attack and couldn’t discuss it with either of them, and she was afraid.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Maddie asked, materializing as Danny and Jazz sat down on the sofa. “We need to spend more time together, as a family. We’re better this way.”

It didn’t even sound like her anymore.

Danny had thought, if there were a change, that it would be gradual. Time deteriorated all things, even memories. But this was…. She’d never seemed like herself since she’d come back. Maybe not all of her had come back.

“It’s nice to have quality family time,” Jazz agreed carefully. “Too many people have trouble keeping their lives balanced.”

The smile that had been fixed on Maddie’s face faltered. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry. We’ll make up for lost time. I promise.”

Jazz swallowed and glanced at Danny. He pretended not to see.

“We’re making do,” Jack said. “We…we still have food we can eat.”

As opposed to food they couldn’t eat, like the Christmas oranges the cookies had infected yesterday. Danny had nearly had to reveal himself then and there, until Jazz had fished the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick out of her closet and, between that and Jack’s golf clubs, they’d turned the oranges into pulp and trapped the remains in jars.

Maddie had been suspiciously absent for the entire incident.

“You haven’t finished my cookies.” Maddie’s tone was light, but she was watching their reactions, frowning slightly at every grimace. Danny wasn’t sure if she was intentionally contaminating every batch or not. He hadn’t figured out what she wanted.

Aside from trapping them all inside, she hadn’t given them a lot of clues. Revenge for what had happened to her? As far as he knew, it had been a freak accident—not even the sort carelessness could cause, like not cleaning the ecto-filter on the portal. Unfinished business? Maybe, except ghost hunting had been the family business, and destroying their weapons so they couldn’t be used against her, while beneficial to her continued existence in the Real World, wasn’t conducive to achieving that goal and moving on. He hoped she didn’t want him and Jazz to take up ghost hunting more wholeheartedly than either of them had, but if that was her goal and the reason she was trying to keep them here….

“Just don’t have much of a sweet tooth lately,” Jazz murmured. None of them had tried their hand at cooking a meal yet, but Danny knew they were running out of gifted casseroles—albeit more because they kept getting contaminated than because they were being eaten. Maddie wasn’t exactly careful in the kitchen anymore, but he knew how hard it could be to learn to control new powers. He doubted it was much easier for her than it had been for him, especially since she was spending all her time in the Real World.

Still, they’d have to act soon. Three days of being a prisoner in his own home, and his skin was constantly crawling.

Cold flooded through him, and Danny shivered. “You’re being awfully quiet, sweetie,” his mother said.

“I was just thinking,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“Aren’t you happy? We’re a family again.”

Danny’s head shot up. Was that all it was? Was that what this was? He wished he could discuss it with Jazz—she’d know in a heartbeat; she probably already had a guess—but all he could do now was search Maddie’s face. She was smiling again, and it was more than her usual mask. Cruelness twisted on the edge of it, and her eyes…. He hadn’t seen them look so cold when she’d been alive, even when she’d been cheerfully informing them that ghosts didn’t feel pain.

Maddie stepped back, but the cold didn’t diminish, some combination of her presence and his ghost sense and who knew what else. “You don’t think we’re a family,” she concluded, and her gaze focused on Jack and Jazz. “Do any of you think we’re still a family?”

Even Danny knew their pause was too long, their assurances too late.

Shadows danced across the drawn curtains as the light in the room pulled away and dimmed. Jazz didn’t even look at him, knowing full well he wasn’t the cause. Her gaze was fixed on Maddie. This was the first time she’d openly displayed any of her new powers, and which ones she had would give them the best clues as to what had happened.

“I’ll just have to prove it to you, then,” she said, and Danny heard a thump from the kitchen. He jumped to his feet, and Jazz screamed, and Jack was looking around for something to use as a weapon—

There was something in here with them, something besides Maddie, but he couldn’t spot it, and he was so cold now that he wasn’t sure he’d have noticed his ghost sense going off. Could Maddie really control light and shadows or was there some sort of mutual agreement between her and a shadow ghost, not unlike what Johnny 13 and Shadow had? But when would she have made one—when could she have made one—and who would make such a deal with her without even telling her who he really was? If they’d planned to double cross her—

“Look out!” Jazz shrieked, and she tackled him. Something exploded overhead, showering them with sparks, and then he could smell smoke, and burning cloth, burning hair, and fire crackled and heat swelled and his eyes were smarting, and Jack was yelling at them to get to the door—

And then there was nothing.

“This is what I’m protecting you from,” Maddie said as Jazz rolled off his back and climbed tentatively to her feet. He sat up but stayed on the floor. His eyes were watering. Smoke and ash still stung his nostrils and hung on his tongue. But the heat was gone, and the earlier cold, and he was more convinced than ever that his ghost sense hadn’t gone off.

Not for someone besides his mother, anyway.

He thought he knew what this was now. He’d met enough ghosts that worked with illusions, or near enough, and if Jack was right about what he thought had happened….

“It’s not safe outside,” she continued. “Not anymore. When I broke through, when I came back…. They followed me. They got out, and now they’re trying to get all of you. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’ll fight—”

“You can’t,” Maddie interrupted, cutting off Jack before he could begin his argument. “Not these ghosts. You’re a terrible shot, honey.”

“Not when it comes to protecting my family,” he replied, lifting his head.

“That’s all I’m doing,” she answered. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. And now I can do it properly. You’ll all stay here, and you’ll stay safe. Now, I’ll bring in those cookies in case anyone decides their sweet tooth is back.”

Danny caught Jazz’s eye as Maddie left the room and risked a tiny nod. He didn’t have a plan, not really, but she’d follow his lead, and Jack would catch on soon enough. They needed to move before things got worse, before Maddie got stronger.

While she was preoccupied in the kitchen, Danny slipped upstairs.

XXXXXX

Danny didn’t know if Maddie had any sort of ghost sense. If she knew of his ghost powers, she certainly hadn’t let on. Then again, he’d barely used his ghost powers since her return. Until now.

He wasn’t as good as Vlad when it came to duplicating himself—he couldn’t hold a duplicate very long in ghost mode, let alone in human form—and he risked giving the game away faster if he tried sending one downstairs as a stand-in. He didn’t need it disappearing mid-sentence. Instead, he’d let Jazz cover for him, like she always had before.

Danny turned invisible the moment he was out of sight, though he stayed tangible until he needed to grab the weapons he’d stowed away. He stayed this way as he flew back to the living room and pressed the thermos into Jazz’s hands. She shifted, subtly pointing to the pillow resting against the arm of the couch, and he slipped it behind that instead as Maddie returned with a plate of chocolate chip cookies that emitted a faint green glow.

Danny steered clear of her as he edged toward Jack, but he needn’t have worried. Maddie stopped in her tracks when she noticed his absence. The room grew colder again.

“Danny just ran to the washroom,” Jazz offered before Maddie asked. Maddie looked in the direction of the upstairs bathroom, frowning slightly. Danny shivered even though he was certain she didn’t know—yet—that he wasn’t actually up there.

Maddie’s lips thinned, and Jazz glanced at Jack before snagging Maddie’s attention again. Danny took the opening for what it was. “Trust me,” he murmured in Jack’s ear as he slipped the ecto-gun into one of the side pockets of his dad’s suit. To Jack’s credit, he jerked but didn’t say anything—maybe because he recognized the familiar weight of what had become forbidden weaponry.

Danny sneaked back upstairs, flushing the toilet and running the tap for good measure, before joining the others in the living room again. Maddie didn’t smile when she saw him. Whether or not she knew the truth, she didn’t believe the lie. She’d be expecting something.

“Are you feeling okay, sweetie?” she asked, half turning towards him.

Danny opened his mouth to repeat his usual lie—I’m fine—when he saw Jack draw the ecto-gun and flip off the safety. Maddie was turning back to him even before it finished powering up, but she surely wasn’t expecting the pillow Jazz threw at her or she’d have phased through it.

The distraction was enough for the ecto-gun’s whine to reach its climax. Jack fired. Danny ducked and shot off an ectoblast for good measure. Maddie had also managed to avoid Jack’s blast, but she hadn’t been anticipating his when she’d thought him unarmed. It caught her in the side and threw her across the room. He rolled and transformed, figuring he’d withstand anything she retaliated with better in ghost mode and not wanting to be in the same spot by the time she recovered enough to send something at him. Just because he hadn’t seen her use a ghost ray, didn’t mean she couldn’t.

When Danny came back up in a crouch, the world was thick with smoke. Turning intangible helped—it was easier to breathe, the smoke didn’t sting anymore, and he couldn’t feel any heat from the flames which had sprung up—but it didn’t give him his sight lines back. Jazz and Jack were lost in choking darkness, and Maddie was far enough away that he couldn’t spot her, either. He knew this couldn’t be real, but he also had no idea how he was supposed to see through an illusion like this.

There wasn’t fire, just as there wasn’t really smoke, so trying to do anything to fight it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He’d do more harm than good. But she could have easily removed herself from view in a world spun of her own illusions, and if he didn’t do something—

The world filled with blinding light, and then everything was dark.

XXXX

Reality snapped back into place when the thermos left Jazz’s hands. “Wh…what…?”

“It seems someone’s been keeping secrets,” Maddie said, tucking the thermos under her arm. Jazz’s eyes darted around the room, her heart sinking when she couldn’t spot her little brother. True, there was a chance he was hiding again and biding his time, but….

But that didn’t seem likely, given that Maddie held the thermos and the ecto-gun Jack had used was in pieces on the carpet. Jack was staring blankly at the remains, and Jazz didn’t know if he was shocked to find out he’d spent the last few days living with two ghosts or if he was still lost in Maddie’s illusions.

That’s what it had to be. It was rare for a ghost not to have some power related to either the means of their death or their obsession, particularly a ghost who could keep their form and interact with the Real World for as long as Maddie had. She didn’t have Spectra’s years of practice, and Jazz doubted she’d opened the Fenton Ghost Portal since coming through it from the other side. It was too risky for her to leave such an obvious hole in their defenses, even if she hadn’t known of Danny’s dual nature or Vlad’s personal portal.

Jazz had tried overriding the security system of the Ops Centre last night. She’d tried crawling out through a vent the night before, thinking it a less obvious choice. But while the air could get through, she could not. And Danny couldn’t have had any luck with anything he had tried, either, or he’d have let her know. Somehow.

And Jack….

Jazz swallowed.

Jack hadn’t hesitated before taking a shot at Maddie at the first opportunity.

She hoped he hadn’t merely been acting on old instincts. If this was an indication that he might not accept Danny—

“We’re supposed to be a family,” Maddie said. Jazz flinched at her sharp tone, but Jack looked over, and Jazz edged closer to her father. She’d have to figure out how to get the thermos back later. She’d have to— “Do you not want to be a family, now that things have changed?”

Jazz knew better than to answer that question. Jack frowned, but he kept quiet, too.

“I’ll admit this was a surprise—” here Maddie tapped her finger on the thermos’s lid “—but it works in our favour, really. Danny will come over sooner or later. I’ll just keep him safe in here until you two have come over to my side.”

“To your side?” Jack growled. “You can’t pretend we’re a family when this is what you do.”

Maddie’s smile was all wrong. “You know exactly which side I mean, honey.”

Jazz’s breath hitched. Maddie might not be able to cut off their air supply, but it wouldn’t be difficult for her to contaminate the rest of their food. She might be able to taint their water, too. She might—

“You’ll see things from my perspective soon enough,” Maddie continued. Her tone made it clear that she didn’t intend to give them a choice. Jazz tried to remember if she still had a Fenton Lipstick sewn into Bearbert or if she’d forgotten to replace it the last time half his stuffing had been ripped out. She’d have to check.

Providing she ever had the opportunity.

With Maddie’s apparent control of illusion, with her ability to bend their perspective of reality, Jazz couldn’t even be sure this much was real.

“We’re family, after all, and I’m going to do what’s best for you. For all of you.” Maddie stroked the thermos before looking up at the two of them. Her eyes held no love for them; they were filled instead with possessiveness, with obsession. Their hardness kept Jazz rooted in place, terrified of what a misstep might mean now that Danny was trapped. “We can be a family of ghosts instead of a family of ghost hunters. I’ll do whatever’s needed to make that happen. Don’t worry. We’ll always be together.”

(see more fics | my phight phics | that fanart for this fic you should see)

#danny phantom #phanfiction #phic phight #phic phight 19 #phigh phight 2019 #danny fenton #maddie fenton #character death #tw death #jazz fenton #jack fenton #dp fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet #my phic phight phics

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twdeadlysins · 6 years ago

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What Lies Ahead: Part Three

Season two, episode one (3/3)

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon and Reader

Word Count: 5,422

Warnings: Slow burn, minor mention of character death, mention of attempted suicide, the usual walking dead violence, language, blood, and such with possible typos.

Author’s Note: I don’t own anything from The Walking Dead, so all credit goes to their respective owners. This is a twd series rewrite with the reader inserted into the mix. I did and will continue to use dialogue from the actual show because I want it to be similar to what you’ve already watched, but obviously have the reader in it.

If you want to be (un)tagged for this series rewrite, don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message me, or leave a comment and I’ll add/remove you. The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer. Any feedback is appreciated, but hate is a different story. Thank you and enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

With tumblr being stupid and all, my Masterlist can be found linked in my bio to catch up or what not. Sorry for the inconvenience… hopefully this gets fixed soon.

Rick had discussed privately with you, Shane and Daryl about the four of you having permission to carry guns while the rest were going to be equipped with some other type of weapon that didn’t require bullets. There was no objection there, no one besides the four of you should carry a loaded weapon since no one else had experience. After the meeting, you exchanged goodnights and decided to make a little makeshift bed in the back of a random pickup truck that was near the RV. You gathered whatever blankets you could find and tossed one into a drawstring bag to use as a pillow before setting your backpack and weapons in the back as well.

Dale had offered for you to sleep in the RV, but you kindly declined wanting to be alone and not coped up in the vehicle even if it was just to sleep. You wanted to feel the cool air and look up at the stars since you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep as quick as you had the last couple of nights. Besides you wanted a space to yourself and call your own. The stars twinkled in the dusk sky giving you a distraction away from the thoughts that crept in your mind and you hoped the trance you were in would put you to sleep, you needed the energy for tomorrow to look for Sophia.

Despite the trouble you had in snoozing off, you woke up early enough to see the sun rise from your spot in the truck bed. It wasn’t like you’d be able to rest any longer since the rays would’ve awaken you anyways, so might as well get a head start. Since no one was up yet, you traded your black v-neck top for a white one and hopped out since you slept in your ripped jeans and combat boots. You strapped on your holsters and secured your pistol and machete along with your collection of knives before peeking into one of the nearby cars in search of food because boy were you starving.

Once you sifted through and found some kettle chips, you leaned up against the back of the truck to pop open the bag to see Rick approaching you with his cop uniform on. You gave him a smile, offering the bag to him to which he smirked and took a few earning a giggle from you. When you two were in high school, you’d both get different things for lunch and share each other’s trays, having a bit of everything to munch on.

“You know there’s a whole stash of food behind that car that everyone gathered,” Rick mentioned with a chuckle as he dusted off his hands, causing you to pause on the chip you were currently crunching on to comprehend what he just said.

“Whoops?” you shrugged, earning your best friend to shake his head with a laugh and you couldn’t help, but to giggle yourself hearing happiness come out of his mouth and how stupid you were.

After the goofiness died down, Rick had folded his arms across his chest and turned a little serious while you placed the empty bag in the truck bed behind you. “You sure you ready to help search? I heard about your hip.”

You sighed, “I’m sure. I’ll be fine, it’s just a bruise besides I have you to look after me,” you playfully said with a smirk, nudging his side with your elbow making him break out into a gleeful smile.

Not long after, everyone started to wake up and come out, so you and Rick made your way over to a car that was close to the RV to finally set out to find Sophia. You took position against the RV as Rick slammed a collection of weapon tools on the hood of the vehicle and unraveled it. “Everybody takes a weapon.”

“These aren’t the kind of weapons we need,” Andrea complained and you rolled your eyes knowing damn well she couldn’t shoot a gun because when you met her, she didn’t even take the safety off, so why should it matter? “What about the guns?”

“We’ve been over that,” Shane blatantly said. “Daryl, Rick, Y/N and I are carrying. We can’t have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles.” You quietly snickered to yourself at his comment while you doubled check to see if your P99 was loaded and had a full clip.

“It’s not the trees I’m worried about,” she hesitantly clarified.

“Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it’s game over for all of us,” he said all jokes aside. “So you need to get over it.”

The blonde still didn’t look very pleased, but she chose to finally shut her mouth on the situation giving Daryl the opportunity to discuss the plan, where you’d all head to search. His idea was to take the creek up for about five miles, then turn around and come back down on the other side. It wasn’t a bad plan at all, so there was no need for you to voice an opinion especially since he knew the woods better than you did. The creek was her only landmark, so finding her near there was high.

“Stay quiet and stay sharp. Keep space between you, but always stay within sight of each other,” Rick instructed at the group, causing you to nod with the corner of your mouth turned up. That was something the sheriff said to the three of you before going on a grid search or raiding a house, when things were more simpler than the dead rising.

Rick had requested for Dale to keep tinkering on the RV, so once you found Sophia, you’d all be able to get the hell out of the area and back on the original plan, to head for Fort Benning. You still thought it was a waste of time and resources, but it was better than being stranded on the interstate. Before you could head out, Rick had asked for the old man to keep an eye on Carl, but he said he was going with you all which wasn’t surprising to hear, it even made you chuckle.

“You need people, right? To cover as much ground as possible,” Carl said, trying to convince his father which made Rick groan in thought, trying to make a decision on him joining. Rick had turned over to his wife for an answer, but all she did was look at the ground and tell him it was his call. Dale even made a point in saying he had all of you to look after him, so you were sold on him tagging along. His father ultimately agreed, making you grin at the boy after they departed.

“I guess this is finally the hunting trip you always wanted me to take you out on,” you joked in light of the situation, ruffling his hair before hugging him into your good side. “Sorry it won’t be fun,” you gloomily apologized once you loosened your grip to hug his face within your palms.

Carl shrugged his shoulders, “It’s okay. All that matters is finding Sophia.” You gingerly smiled and pressed a quick kiss on top of his head before smoothing out his hair. “Stick with me, kid. I’m going to be real slow out there and I need you to protect me,” you quipped, earning a chuckle in return.

With you and Carl in conversation, you didn’t notice the feud between Andrea and Dale occurring, she wasn’t backing down without her gun that he took from her. “But if Y/N and I hadn’t done what we did, you’d be dead right now,” Dale reminded.

“Jenner gave us an option. I chose to stay-”

“You chose suicide!” Dale argued.

“So what’s that to you? Or Y/N? You barely know me,” Andrea lashed back and it made you uncomfortable that she had felt this way this entire time.

“I know Amy’s death devastated you,” Dale began to say.

“Keep her out of this,” Andrea sternly said. “This is not about Amy. This is about us and if I decided that I had nothing left to live for, who the hell are you to tell me otherwise? To force my hand like that?”

“We saved your life,” Dale confusedly spoke.

“No, Dale. I saved both of yours, you guys forced that on me. I didn’t want the blood on my hands and that is the only reason I left that building. What did you expect?” Andrea questioned.

“Maybe just a little gratitude,” he softly voiced.

“Gratitude? I wanted to die my way, not torn apart by drooling freaks. That was my choice, you took that away from me,” she said, tears ready to spill. “All I wanted after my sister died was to get out of this endless horrific nightmare we live everyday. I wasn’t hurting anyone else. You took my choice away, Dale right along with Y/N and you expect… gratitude?”

You moved away from Carl to take a couple steps forward. “I don’t appreciate being dragged into this because the only reason why I went back into that building was to try and reason with you to not opt out, not force you. If you had still refused, then I would’ve left and dragged Dale right along with me ‘cause then I could say I at least tried. I even said it was your choice and that we couldn’t make you, so I did not force your hand and I sure as hell did not take your choice away. So don’t you dare say I did,” you fumed, tears wanting to be freed, but you refused to let them. You understood being blamed for Sophia, you faulted yourself for it and for not being able to save your aunt and uncle, but you sure as hell weren’t about to be blamed for saving her. It made you risking the chances of being blown up mean nothing.

You began to walk away, not caring to hear any other remarks, but you turned your head to peer at the ground to clarify one more thing. “By the way, you said you weren’t hurting anyone else… well you’re wrong. You would’ve hurt everyone in this group just like Jacqui’s death did.” And with that you strided off hearing multiple footsteps behind you, the search for Sophia was on.

Daryl was leading the way while you were following Lori and Carl, skimming through the knee lengthed grass with Shane as the caboose, trailing behind you. You had the palm of your hand resting on the grip of your pistol while your other hand held your machete. Carl was fiddling with one of your knives in his hands as he walked, but he stopped to show Shane his new weapon. He was telling him how you had given it to him to protect you which made a grin stretch across your face, but it disappeared once Shane had interrupted him in the rudest of ways.

“Keep it down, we’re lookin’ for Sophia. You need to focus on the task,” he scolded as he turned around to search for anything behind. Lori had ushered for her child to keep up, giving you a look that she had heard everything, so you pivoted around to give him a piece of your mind.

“What the fuck was that?” you harshly whispered.

“What was what?” he questioned, preoccupied at scanning the area instead of looking at your face.

You huffed, pointing in the direction of the group with your blade. “What you did to Carl. He was just trying to show you his cool new knife and you had to bring him down with your ‘Focus on the task’ attitude,” you mocked with your fists on your hips, puffing out your chest with a deep voice.

All he did was scoff and press on with you tied to the hip, you weren’t going to let him off that easy. “You know you’re very lucky I somewhat forgave you from what happened at the C.D.C,” you reminded in a hush tone, catching his attention.

“You know I was just drunk, you know that,” he definitively pointed at you, his eyes full of regret.

You scoffed, surveying the area and making sure to watch your step. “Yeah, well, that still doesn’t change what you did, but I’m not going to hang it above your head. Anyways, now that I grabbed your attention, are you pushing away Carl because of Lori?” you eagerly questioned.

“I don’t see why that’s any of your concern or business,” he retorted, giving you a sideways glance.

“It is my business!” you somewhat shouted accidentally and you pried your angered glare off of Shane to see if anyone was looking. Lori’s questioning eyes met yours and you gave her a fake smile before going back to what you were doing. “You are having a feud with my best friend’s- your best friend’s wife,” you corrected, poking him on his arm. “And I want to know why.”

Before he could answer, Shane had tapped you with the back of his hand still keeping his orbs forward and you wanted to slap it away, but you followed his line of sight. There was a tent crowded around with trees giving it a secluded feeling and Shane brought up how Sophia could be in there which wasn’t a terrible assumption.

The four of you that carried guns quietly approached the tent before Daryl gave a signal for the three of you to stay back. He wielded out his knife and got into a crouched stance, ready to strike as he stepped closer to the makeshift home. The archer peeked inside the holes of the tent and waved his hands in an i-don’t-know-can’t-tell way, so Rick quietly called Carol over. He ordered her to call Sophia out softly, if she was in there, her mother’s voice should be the first thing she should hear.

Carol loudly, but quietly called for her daughter, promising that it was safe to come out. It was silent… she wasn’t in there and your heart shattered. Rick and Shane advanced to the tent while you stood beside Carol as Daryl gradually unzipped the tent before lifting the flap. He jerked his head away and covered his senses with the back of hand, indicating in your mind that there was a dead body in there and if it stunk that bad, it had to have been there for weeks. Daryl confirmed what you had thought as he exited the tent, he opted out.

All of a sudden, a sound began to ring out and as you listened closer it sounded like bells, but you couldn’t tell where they were coming from since your concussion prevented you from doing so. Luckily, Rick motioned the way and you all frantically sprinted towards the sound, it could be Sophia.

You were keeping up with the group pretty well considering your injured leg, but then Rick and Shane paused trying to pinpoint the sound again. It wasn’t just your hearing then, the woods were affecting it, bouncing off of trees or what not. Carol and Glenn made a good point, if you could hear them, then Sophia could hear them too or someone was calling for others or maybe she was ringing them herself.

There were trees hovering over your path, but you could identify a clearing and a white building. Once you pushed passed the leaves, a church came into view, but it didn’t have a steeple or bells to cause the ringing. Rick ignored Shane’s observation and began to dash towards the godly building. No one was in grave danger, so you chose to speed walk while the others followed the southern quickly. After you caught up with the group, Rick and Daryl were positioned on either side of the door ready to breach in with Shane in front.

The doors were pushed open and three walkers craned their heads to look at you. One was in a bridal gown and the two others looked to be in matching attire, well that was a wedding to remember. You left the killings to Rick, Shane and Daryl since it was only three plus your hip was bothering you.

“I’m telling you, it’s the wrong church. It’s got no steeple, Rick,” Shane said after the walkers were put down. And it triggered in your brain, there wasn’t a steeple or bells, but it did come from this church, just like the one you went to with your aunt and uncle when you were younger. Before you could voice your theory, the bells began to ring again causing you to wince and hold your ears as they ran out the door, your concussion was doing a number on you. “Guys it’s automated!” you shouted, but they didn’t hear you.

When you stumbled outside, the persistent ringing had finally stopped and you spotted a speaker on the side of the building. You exhaled a sigh and dragged your feet back into the church and sat on a pew in the back, leaning your elbows on the one in front of you as you rested your chin in your hand and stared at the statue of Jesus hanging on the cross. Rick, Carl and Daryl were standing in the back while Lori was in the front row for Carol’s comfort.

You overheard Carol pray out loud, asking for forgiveness even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. She had prayed for a safe trip to Atlanta, punishment on Ed for laying his hands on her and looking at his own daughter which made your stomach turn. She continued to talk about Sophia and how she pleaded for the Lord to bring her back to her. How her wanting Ed dead was a sin and Sophia shouldn’t be punished for it, just her.

Once it was silent with the exception of Carol’s whimpers, you began to quietly pray yourself. You didn’t consider yourself a very religious person, yeah you believed in a higher power since you also believed everything happened for a reason, but you didn’t pray as often as you should. When you were sixteen, your aunt and uncle, well mainly your uncle, was cool with allowing you to get your first tattoo. With it being your first tattoo and all, you decided to get something small and meaningful, you never wanted to get inked unless it had significance to you. The first thing that came to mind was a cross, not only as a symbol of your faith, but for your parents as well. You wanted to believe they were in better place, that they were looking down on you with proud smiles on their faces.

“Yo what up Christ,” you joked with a nervous chuckle before shaking your head at how much of an idiot you were. “I haven’t done this in well… only you would know besides you can tell from- whatever,” you scrambled your hands in the air before linking them together in your lap.

“I just wanted to say that I don’t blame you for what happened to Jolene and Chris… and I know you wouldn’t want me to blame myself and I’m getting better at not doing so. This is going to sound fucked up- ‘scuse my language Lord- I’m kind of glad it happened because I didn’t want them to have to live in this world. To go through the things we’ll have to go through because they deserved better than this world we live in now. Hell, the people I’m with deserve more, but just because I’m thankful that they don’t have to go through everyday surviving doesn’t mean I wish death upon these people- upon Sophia,” you solemnly whispered, staring at the statue and the ceiling from time to time.

“Please guide us to her or her to us, we just want her alive and safe, to be with her loving mother and us- the people who care about her,” you pleaded in a hushed tone. “In the name of Jesus, Amen.”

After you finished, you stood up and turned to get out of the aisle. Once you did, your eyes connected to Daryl’s and you knew he heard everything you said by the soft look in his eyes, but you still wished he somehow didn’t. You averted your gaze quicker than you had looked at him and stepped out of the church with Rick following you out.

Shane had trekked where the two of you were telling you the group had to get a move on since there was only a couple hours of daylight left and that there was a long way back. Rick didn’t want to stop and you didn’t want to either, but you were spent. There was a whole lot of ground to cover and not enough hours in the day unfortunately.

“Her being out here is my fault,” Rick said, leading you to abruptly shake your head.

“No it isn’t. You did everything in your power to keep her safe, you lead those walkers away and made sure she was hidden, gave her directions just in case,” you assertively said. “It’s my fault. I could’ve done a lot of things, but chose to be a hero instead of thinking. I learned to come up with tactics and ideas in high pressure situations in the military and when it came to a little girl-,” you paused, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t use anything.”

Shane halfheartedly chuckled which caused you to frown his way. “That’s great. Now they got you both doubting yourselves, huh.”

“What about you? You doubt me? You doubt her?” Rick inquired, but knowing Shane he’d just maneuver around the question.

“Hey, we can assign all kinds of blame,” he began to say, making you lift your hands and smile in disbelief, you couldn’t have been more right. Rick had gotten in his face saying how finding Sophia meant something, that they couldn’t give up, so Shane patted the two of you on the backs as he walked passed.

Shane cleared his throat and told the group that they’d follow the creek bed back and that Daryl was in charge. He then explained how the three of you were going to hang back and search the area for another hour or so. You were sort of exhausted, but not enough to stop looking, you could manage a couple hours. The redneck questioned the idea of splitting you all up, but Shane assured you’d all catch up.

“I want to stay too,” Carol spoke up, causing you to quirk a brow and shift your gaze on the little boy to his father for an answer. “I’m her friend.” You smiled at that and Rick exchanged looks between you and Shane, wondering what he should do, so you just shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t see any harm in it, bringing him out was a big decision in itself, a couple more hours wouldn’t hurt.

Lori ended up giving the okay as she told him to be careful. “When did you start growing up,” she teased, kissing him on the head as she gave him a hug. Rick went to bid a brief see-you-soon hug and kiss and you noticed the look that Shane and Lori had as they did. Shane and Andrea even gave each other a look leaving you to wonder what the fuck was going on. What were you missing?

Rick offered his wife his gun, but she denied, not wanting to leave him unarmed. Daryl had a spare from the tent he retrieved, so he handed it to her leaving Andrea to shake her head in disbelief. You understood her frustration since only four people were allowed to have guns, but the three of you were separating. They needed another person with a loaded weapon. She just needed to grow up and not take everything to heart, life was unfair, so you rolled your eyes at her behavior.

As the rest of the group headed back to the interstate, Rick had asked for a minute before you all started back up again, so you hung out on the steps and played rock, paper, scissors with Carl. Rick was in the church most likely praying which was something he never did, but who were you to judge? You were a believer and barely talked to the Lord yourself.

You wanted to continue the conversation you were having with Shane before you all found the tent, but you didn’t want to do that in front of Carl. He was already getting dragged into it by his mother and Shane, he didn’t need to be engrossed into all of this drama… if that was what it was.

“Okay, how about whoever gets the best out of three gets,” you tailed off, thinking of what the grand prize would be. “Gets to have those double chocolate chip cookies at the highway when we get back,” you smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. Carl giggled and agreed to the terms, bragging about how he was going to win which caused Shane to try and suppress a smile.

One, two, three. You= paper, Carl= rock

One, two, three. You= rock, Carl= rock

One, two, three. You= rock, Carl= paper

You had a feeling he was going to choose rock next since every time you two would play, he would do whatever you did last next for his turn. You had chosen scissors and Carl had done rock, and when he realized he had won, he sprouted up and began cheering making Shane laugh and you fake pout with your arms crossed.

“Looks like you get the cookies, Carl, nice play,” you annoyedly faked in defeat and gave him a lousy high five before Rick came out. You stood up and ruffled Carl’s hair before stepping down to follow his father. He didn’t look too happy and Shane had picked up on that too since he gave you a look, so you shrugged your shoulders in return.

Daryl’s POV

“So this is it? This the whole plan?” Carol complained and Daryl understood, it didn’t exactly turn out the way he envisioned. He didn’t expect for the group to get smaller which he still thought wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

“Carrying knives and pointy sticks,” Andrea mentioned, peering over jealousy on her face at Lori who was unzipping her backpack. “I see you have a gun.”

Lori didn’t take no time in replying back. “Why you want it? Here take it.” She handed the gun over with attitude, fed up with the blonde’s. “I’m sick of the looks you’re giving me.” Andrea scoffed, but took the weapon anyways, isn’t that what she wanted?

Daryl thought Andrea was overreacting, that it wasn’t a big if she didn’t have one. It wasn’t like any of them were going to be shooting any walkers, they’d resort to his crossbow or the bladed weapons. No sense in making noise when you don’t have to.

“All of you,” Lori began before directing her attention to Carol. “Honey, I can’t imagine what you’re going through and I would do anything to stop it, but you have got to stop blaming Rick and Y/N. It is in your face every- time- you- look- at- them,” she emphasized. “When Sophia ran they didn’t hesitate, did they? Not for a second. I don’t know that any of us would have gone after her the way they did or made the hard decisions they had to make or that anybody could have done it any differently. Anybody?” she questioned, wandering her orbs over everyone, looking if anyone would speak up.

Daryl wanted to think he could, but deep down he probably wouldn’t have done what Y/N and Rick had done. He wasn’t there in the moment since he was aiding T-Dog with his arm, hiding them both under corpses so the dead would pass by. He risked his life for him which made him take a second to think back about those times he had scolded Y/N for doing the exact same thing he did. It wasn’t a blowing building situation, but it was sort of like Sophia and he had shouted at Y/N for chasing after her since she had a concussion. He had a justified reason for everything that he did, so why did he feel so bad?

“Y’all look to him and then you blame him when he’s not perfect. If you think you can do this without him, go right head, nobody is stopping you,” Lori angrily said, now only talking about Rick since even Y/N looked to him for answers, he was like an older brother to her. He could relate, Daryl always had looked up to Merle even when he was a dick, didn’t change the fact that they were blood, that he loved him.

He also didn’t blame Y/N for what had happened with Sophia. She had bolted after her the minute she heard something go down and that said a lot about her character. She was caring, put others before herself, strong, and an all around good person… something Daryl still didn’t believe he could be.

After Lori’s rant had ended, Andrea had handed back over the gun and advised that they should keep moving, so Daryl motioned for them to get in front while he stayed in the middle just in case.

Y/N’s POV

The four of you had been casually walking through the wooded area, still searching for Sophia in silence, not wanting to get distracted or make noise. The pain in your hip was a distraction in itself and you were curious as to what it looked since it had been a whole day. While you continued to limp as you followed closely, you gestured for Shane to hold your machete. Once your hands were free, you quietly undid your belt and stretched down your jeans to reveal your now multi colored bruise. It had to have had all the colors in the rainbow including black which indicated a bone bruise, you’d have pain and the look to go with it for weeks. Shane had given you a remorseful look as you zipped up your pants and buckled your belt frustratedly.

“Y/N,” he whispered cautiously and you quickly gawked at him only to see him point at your arms. You reluctantly shifted your gaze over to your forearms to see redness around your wounds and what looked to be blisters. You had a damn infection and would start coughing and catching a fever soon. What in the hell were you going to do now?

A sudden snap of a twig pulled you out of your worried thoughts and so you motioned for Shane to hand you back your weapon as you pushed Carl a little behind you, stopping to hear for anything else. Rick had pointed to where the noise came from, so you slowly moved forward with caution. Once you saw Rick stop, you followed his line of sight to see a deer coming through the clearing where you stood, sniffing for food.

Shane went to aim, but you and Rick both muttered his name and nodded to Carl who was intrigued by the creature as he approached closer with a smile plastered on his face. You grinned seeing the first animal you’d seen since the world went to shit, this was the best moment to bare witness to. Everything seemed so eerie with death and Sophia missing, but this… this was what made fighting that much worth it.

You continued to stare with curiosity with a hand on your hip with your bad leg stretched to the side as Carl itched closer and closer with each step. The three of you had exchanged wondering looks, but the lively expressions never left your faces. You heard a twig lightly break under Carl’s feet and the deer brought it’s attention over to the source, gawking at the little boy. The moment of the two of them having a staring contest seemed to have gone on for minutes when in reality it only went on for seconds and within those seconds a piercing shot rang out and you saw the deer right along with Carl fall to the ground with a thud.

_____________________________________

Thank you for reading! What did you think of this part? Any feedback is much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts, criticism, suggestions, etc! If you’d like to be tagged or removed, don’t hesitate to let me know!

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edourado · 6 years ago

Text

Complete

Here lies another beggining of the year indulgent thing.

I have written fix-it fics and AU’s before, but none, I think, as sticky-sweet as this one. But it is also a lil smutty. So be warned.

The first fic of 2019 had to be bright, given what Netflix and Disney are hell bent on doing to us all.

Here it is. I hope you like it. Please let me know. The writer needs affection/validation.

Much love. Happy 2019 to all of us.

(Also #SaveDaredevil while we’re at it)

Frank caused a commotion the first time he visited her at her office.

She had not been expecting him at all. He was supposed to be in Florida with his kids, a Disney World event for Lisa’s 9th birthday. His flight was not scheduled to arrive until eight that night.

But then there he was, at 11 in the morning.

“Hey”, he called from her door, that voice full of gravel that still made her skin shiver, almost a year into their relationship.

“Oh”, she let out, looking up from her computer, surprised to see him. “Hi!”

Frank has this thing about him, that no matter what he put on, he looked good. It can be a bit infuriating, actually, especially on those days that she couldn’t decide what to wear or what to do with her hair. Frank just threw on a hoodie and some jeans and those boots he would wear to bed if he could, and he was ready.

Walking into her office, he made his way to her and she realized her strategy of not thinking about him during the week he spent away had worked. She had focused on everything but Frank Castle and everything she had to do so as not to think about him and, consequently, miss him too much, but now that he was here, placing the white roses that he always presented her with behind her pencil case, she felt the tightness in her chest that told that she had missed missed missed him but now was so glad that he was here.

Oh, she just knew this office was about to implode because of him.

He bent over her desk to place a kiss on her lips, and she angled her face up, but as soon as he backed away, she got up to close the door and shut the blinds, ignoring the protests of her nosy coworkers.

“I thought you were supposed to fly back tonight.”

“Yeah”, he started while she shook her head at Arlene through the window, who was making faces and mouthing “oh my God??” at her. “Leave it to those kids to not follow the plan.”

Turning to him, Karen smiled and moved to better greet him after a week of texts and quick calls to say good night.

“What happened?” She asked after a proper kiss and a tight hug, pulling him towards the couch, moving to sit sideways on his lap.

“We got a dog.”

She was on her way to kiss him again, but stopped and moved back to look at his face.

“You got a- the dog you were planning on getting Frankie?”

“Nope, not that one. Well, now, I guess, yeah.”

He had been planning on getting a dog for his son for his birthday, two months from now, in order to maybe teach some responsibility to the young boy that, unlike his sister, that took to their father and developed her organization skills from an early age, was truly content on being the spoiled youngest sibling, leaving a messy trail wherever he went.

“I took them to dinner last night”, he started to explain, one arm behind her, hand on her hip, the other caressing her thigh over her jeans.

Karen has never been happier to have a private office.

“We went to this sea food place-”

“You got a dog at a seafood place?”

“Almost. We get there and I’m looking for a parking spot when these two little maniacs yell ‘SHELTER!’ and hop off the car.”

Karen smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. They had picked this up a while ago, under the impression that, as long as the car was moving very slowly and they loudly announced why they were exiting the vehicle and where they were going, it was ok to simply unbuckle and leave.

“So I park the damn car, and when I get there they go ‘daddy daddy please!’, thrusting this puppy on my face.”

“What breed?”

Here, he sighed.

“A pitbull.”

“Oh, these kids are good.”

Frank loves pitbulls. Everyone that knows him knows this. He had forfeited the privilege of having one when he married Maria, who is very allergic to dogs, leaving the one he already had to live with his parents. Old Max had died soon after Frankie was born, and Frank has been puppy orphaned since then.

“Yeah”, he says, softly, as he always does when talking about his children, picking on a seam of her jeans. “I made it a little difficult, though, made them promise all kinds of things about taking care of it, going for walks and shit, but Lisa hit me with the birthday bribe thing, and Frankie said he never wanted anything more in his entire life, even if he had met the dog three minutes ago.”

With hands on his face, Karen bent to take her kiss, and the familiar warmth of him made her want to go home.

“So now you have a dog.”

“Now I have a dog. Its technically the kids’ dog, but he’s gonna live with me full time, so yeah.”

Weaving her arms around his neck, she pulled him for a hug, aware that someone was going to knock, any second now.

“I’m happy for you”, she said, feeling his arms tighten around her. “And I’m also glad you’re home a whole nine hours earlier.”

She had been right. Right when he was weaving his fingers inside her hair, opening his mouth to her kiss, someone knocked on the door, and she got up from his lap.

“Yeah, come in.”

Simone and Andre, of course. Everybody had been asking about Frank, wanting to meet him, but these two have been the worst.

“Hi-i, excuse us”, Simone sing-sang, walking in as Frank slowly got up from the couch. “We just wanted to know if you’re gonna join us for lunch. Hi, I’m Simone.”

Frank moved to shake her hand, and Andre stood there sizing him up.

“Frank Castle.”

“Ah, the famous Frank. I wish I could say we’ve heard all about you, but this one has built a mystery”, Andre said, taking his turn in shaking his hand. “She doesn’t say anything, no matter how much we beg.”

Karen would have sent them away, but it was a little fun to watch Frank squirm under her coworkers’ scrutiny.

He smiled his polite smile, and touched a hand on the small of her back.

“I’m afraid I came to steal her away for lunch.”

They tried to convince him they could all have lunch together, but he explained that he had just touched down in New York, his suitcase was still in the car, he had his kids waiting for them back home.

After a lot of probing, a lot of insistence, Alex and Sam joining them in the office, she managed to shoo everybody away and, finally, pull him by the hand to the elevators.

“I feel like The Bachelor or something”, he whispered to her while they waited, mouth to her ear, and she put one arm around his torso.

“They’re a bunch of reporters, and I have been retaining information about you for almost a year. You’re lucky they’re not dissecting you over my desk.”

The door pinged and opened, and they stepped into the empty elevator. Frank kissed her discreetly, a sweet hand on her face while they descended to the lobby for his car.

“Sorry for showing up unannounced”, he said against her cheek. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“It’s ok. I’ll have to hold a press conference in the break room when I come back, but it’s worth it.”

He smiled against her face, placing a lingering kiss on her temple just as the doors opened to the lobby.

She asked about the trip on the way to his apartment, a hand on his hair while he drove, and he told her about long lines and kiddie rides, but how it was worth it, just to see the kids so happy. How they had to smuggle the puppy to the hotel, and Lisa forfeited a day in Sea World so they could go back home early and how they almost cried along when the puppy whined in the plane, the loud noises hurting his little ears.

When he parked in his usual spot, Karen tugged on his sleeve before he even started gathering his stuff to get out of the car.

Unbuckling, she leaned to kiss him and, after quickly bunching up her skirt to her hips, moved out of her seat and maneuvered herself on top of him, laughing out an “ouch!” when she banged her head on the car ceiling in the process.

He was smiling when she moved to kiss him, hands eager on her, going from her face to her hair, down her neck, over to her back and down her hips until he was gripping her ass firmly, kissing her slow and deep, making her sigh against his lips.

“I missed you”, she whispered when he dove to kiss and nibble on her neck, arms around his shoulders, feeling warm and tingly from his kisses.

“Fuck”, he sighed against her skin, looking up again to catch another kiss. “I missed you more.”

Frank had his hands full of her and everything was already spinning when she took her hands from his face, lowering them down his chest.

“The kids are gonna sleep over?”

“Yeah”, he said against her neck while she pushed his shirt out of her way.

“Well then”, she said, closing her eyes when he pressed a chunk of her skin between his teeth, a reaction to her fingers unbuckling his belt. “We’ll have to make do.”

It’s not that they never had sex with the kids in the house. He shared custody with Maria, 50/50, and they’ve been going out 10 months, now, of course they had to make sure the door was locked and try to be as quiet as possible.

But he was just coming back from a week away, if they went upstairs right away, she would have to wait until bedtime to get her fill of him.

So the car it was.

“Hold on, hold on”, he breathed, one arm around her, leaning off the seat to start the car again, setting the air conditioner on high.

Frank came back to her with renewed gusto, and she kinda liked the rough fabric of his jeans scratching her bare thighs.

It had to be quick. No time or space to draw out anything. Plus, his windows were tinted and the garage was underground, but this was still a public space.

She groaned into his mouth when he slipped inside her, bracing a hand on the ceiling right above her head, rolling her hips on his, the vents of his (very impractical) Mustang blasting cold air on her back.

He had ripped the buttons out of one of her shirts, once, on a drunk encounter where he knocked on her door after drinking with his buddies, and as exciting as it had been at the time, she had warned him not to do it again, she couldn’t exactly afford this habit of his. So now he was always careful, going button by button every time.

This time, he stopped just after three, when her bra was exposed enough, and pushed the lacy fabric aside to attach his mouth over her breasts, hugging her to him, making her moan at what the movement did, he was just so good at this.

Oh, his hands. Frank knew just how to handle her, his fingers applying just the right amount of pressure. A little bit over comfortable, not enough to hurt, just enough to make her shiver, guiding her over him, pressing and kneading, and they have to hurry, the kids are waiting upstairs, one of his neighbors could walk in any minute, there might be a security camera or two registering as his car bounced.

“Now, Kare’, come on”, he growled in her ear after just a few minutes, dipping his hand between them and bucking his hips up towards her, and she pressed her lips together to keep the scream in, moaning loud against his face, the air conditioner too loud to let anyone outside the car hear her.

Frank let go just after her, face pressed against her neck, and she hugged him to her, moving her hips to and fro slowly as they both came down, sweating a little bit in spite of the cold air coming out of the vents.

“One fucking week”, he said, all mellow, head resting against the seat, a hand on her face, and she kissed him slowly. “Away from you. I never wanna do that again.”

They took a few more minutes to put themselves together and look around before exiting the car.

Upstairs, opening the door, they found the Castle kids on the living room floor, playing with their new puppy.

“Hi, you guys!” She greeted, and both Lisa and Frank got up from the floor, excitedly talking over each other, showing her the dog, trying to tell her all about the trip to Florida in less than a minute.

“Ok, ok, hey, calm down”, Frank said, closing the door behind them. “Take a breath.”

The plan had been for them to go out, and they would drop her off at work after they ate, but she ended up sitting on the floor with the children, playing with the new family member, trying to come up with a name for him, so Frank ordered in.

“He looked straight at us when we came in”, Lisa was telling her, sitting by her side playing with the puppy while Frankie sat, technically, on the floor, but with his back against her chest, her legs crossed around his small frame while he played on her phone. “The lady told us he was born less than a week ago. We were the very first to come in and see them.”

“He has three sisters”, Frankie piped in, not looking up from the phone. “I wanted to bring them all home.”

“Yeah, in your dreams, buddy”, Frank said from the couch.

“But daddy, you love dogs”, he argued, calm as cucumber. “You would love all of them.”

“I think it’s good that you only got him”, Karen said, pushing the boy’s hair away from his forehead. “One dog is already such a big responsibility, can you imagine four?”

“I agree”, went Lisa, rubbing the puppy’s belly. “We would be totally overwhelmed.”

Nine years old and such big words.

“Right. Totally overbelted”, echoed her brother, sort of.

“By the way”, Frank said from his spot on the couch. “What’s this guy’s name?”

They thought about names for a few minutes, laughing while she and Frank suggested names like Tiberius or Leandrenous.

“Frank Jr Jr!” Suggested an excited boy.

“That’s too many Franks in one house”, argued his sister, shaking her head solemnly.

The food arrived and they jumped to set the table, babbling away about Disney World and how they couldn’t wait to be old enough for the “big rides” while Frank opened the door and payed the delivery guy.

They sat down at the table to eat and, while Frank served rice to Lisa, Karen spotted a stain on his neck, right below his left ear.

Lipstick. Hers, from the car.

Dropping her fork, she reached out to clean it, or, at the very least, smudge it away before the kids saw it. He looked at her, a question in his eyes, and she moved her hand to show him the soft pink tinge in her fingers.

She had to breathe deep not to laugh at the smug expression on his face.

“No chicken for me, daddy”, Lisa said. “I’m a vegetarian.”

He fixed her with a look.

“Since when?”

“Since today. I just saw on TV how they make burgers and chicken nuggets, so I’m not gonna eat meat anymore.”

“You could have mentioned that before I ordered chicken and steak, maybe?”

“Sorry. I’ll have rice and fries. And I guess I can have some cauliflower.”

They ate and the puppy whined, begging for food while Frankie listed all the disadvantages of being a vegetarian and Lisa listed the benefits.

“They eat dogs in China. Did you know that?”

“No they don’t!”

“They do, too! And in India, cows are sacred. So us having burgers is just as weird for them. You wouldn’t eat a dog, would you? So why should I eat a cow?”

There was a moment of quiet, while Frankie thought about it and Lisa tried not to make a face at the steamed vegetables she was munching on.

“What else do they eat in China?”

.:.

After teaming up to load the dishwasher, they all got into their shoes again, to go out and drive Karen back to work. They needed to also stop at a pet store, to buy the newest member of the family some proper food.

“You’re sleeping over, right?” Lisa asked from the back seat when Frank pulled over in front of the Bulletin, the dog on her lap.

“Yep”, she confirmed, twisted around to look at the girl.

“Good. We still need to tell you about the rest of the trip.”

“And I need to show you my new comic books”, Frankie - now also a vegetarian - added.

“I want to hear and see it all”, she smiled at them. “Bye, you guys.”

Moving back, she looked at Frank, who leaned in to collect a kiss.

“We can come pick you up.”

“No need. I have a Skype interview, don’t know how long it’ll take. I’ll get a cab, or something.”

“Ok. But call me if you want me. I’ll come running.”

She took the kiss, and whispered just for him.

“I always want you.”

.:.

As she expected, the office was holding its collective breath waiting for her return. She had barely walked out of the elevator when Simone got up and started to follow her.

“You sneaky bitch”, she said, pinching her arm and Karen smiled. “You were hiding that all along?”

“I wasn’t hiding anything. Or anyone.”

“Karen”, said Sam, catching up to them. “That is your boyfriend? Jesus Christ, he’s so yummy.”

She didn’t say anything to that because, well, yes, he is.

She didn’t mean to keep Frank a secret. He wasn’t, really. But things had started very uncertain, with them.

He was married, when they first met. Just starting on his divorce process, and he was not in a very good place then. Neither was she, really, what with the break up with Matt and Wilson Fisk waging war on her over the exposè she wrote on him, Nelson & Murdock handling the case, it was a mess.

But then they met again, and she wrote a story on him, they teamed up to bring some corrupt CIA officials down, he became a source, she became his one woman database, he saved her life, and suddenly-

Suddenly they were in love. Crazy, stupid, inexplicable love, theirs was a completely new thing, for her.

Karen had boyfriends before, she had been in love before, but what she felt for Frank and what he felt for her was beyond her own comprehension. She’s a respected journalist, and she doesn’t have the words to describe it.

She’s his and he’s hers. That’s it.

But she never had envisioned herself falling so hard for a man as complicated as Frank Castle. A man whose divorce papers were still warm from the printer, the ink from the judge’s signature still fresh. A man whose job she couldn’t even understand right, so covert everything was. A man with two children (and a pretty spectacular ex wife, if she’s being honest. It was pretty much impossible not to fall in love with Maria Castle) and more redacted record files than she thought was healthy.

Still. There she was, ten months after the first time he kissed her, unable to imagine her life without him, anymore.

But if she was anything, it was a pessimist. Her own life and history too punctuated with heartbreak for her to be anything other than that.

So she kept him a mystery. Not telling her coworkers she was dating, at first, and then evading questions about him when it became obvious that she was indeed seeing someone.

Plus, it felt good, to keep him all to herself.

During that time, she had also developed the purest form of love for little Lisa and Frank Jr.. She met them after a few months of dating, and the kids took to her with ease, embracing Daddy’s new girlfriend with a warmth that, honestly, choked her up a little bit.

She loved Lisa and her curious mind, sharp wit and enormous heart.

She loved Frankie and his tenacity, his sweetness and his bravery.

And, Lord above, she loved Frank. All of him, even the parts that made her want to yank her hair out in frustration, sometimes.

They were, both of them, more than a little bit broken when they first met. The way they put each other back together made them stronger everyday.

“Come on”, Alex was saying as she put her hair up for her interview. “Dish.”

“There’s nothing to dish”, she lied. “Now shoo. I have a call with Tony Stark, if you don’t mind.”

They only left after she promised happy hour next Monday, so they could question her about her relationship over tequilas and margaritas.

And, while she waited for the call to connect, she conceded: that didn’t sound so bad.

.:.

Dinner was somewhat tricky.

Lisa was standing her ground with this whole vegetarian thing, and the last thing Frank wanted was to curb any of her impulses - especially when they were rooted in something valid -, even if they didn’t last long, so he had no choice but to adapt.

When she got there, they were, Frank and Lisa, in the kitchen, trying to make a cheese and broccoli soup.

“Tomorrow”, Frank started while he supervised the kids brushing their teeth after dinner, already dressed for bed. “We’re gonna go to the vet, get that little guy all the vaccines he needs to be healthy.”

“Can we go to the park after?” Frankie asked, standing on a little stool step to make him reach the sink, foam spilling out of his mouth.

“Depends on what the vet says.”

“We should get him a trainer”, Lisa said after rinsing, drying her face. “Like the one Kim Kardashian got. You know, to house train him.”

“I doubt I can afford Kim Kardashian’s dog whisperer.”

They said goodnight while Karen rubbed moisturizer on her face and Frank walked to tuck each of them into their own beds, maybe read with them a little bit. The dog - who still didn’t have a name - was going to sleep in Frankie’s room tonight (he had won the coin toss).

She was already in bed, browsing her phone when he walked in, turning the lights off and closing the door behind him, carefully turning the key.

Karen locked the screen and reached to put the phone on the nightstand, smiling when Frank reached the mattress and got a hold of both her ankles, yanking her to him, she giggled and bit on her lower lip, watching as he quickly shed his shirt and threw it behind him.

He bent to place kisses and nibbles on her belly, moving her own shirt out of his way, until he was pushing it over her head and lying down on top of her, his kisses slower than the ones they shared earlier in the car, but not any less intense.

Karen likes the weight of him on top of her. Likes to raise her legs and wrap them around his torso, feel the muscles of his back with her hands, tug on the longer strands of his hair. And she loves everything he does to her, he never disappoints.

But she felt him a little different this time. While his right hand holding her hips up for him was nothing new, the left one on her jaw, angling her face up so he can kiss and lick and nibble on her neck, lower, a tiny bit more intense than usual, was.

(Not unpleasant, by any means, but new.)

“Fuckin’ craved you all week”, he says against her navel, hands busy busy busy on her, and Karen feels violent shivers running all over her. “Missed the taste of your skin.”

This is what her coworkers meant when they said “dish”. They wanted the details of how Frank performs in bed, how his body feels on top of her, how thoroughly he fucks her and how expertly he eats her out, but that is something she was determined to keeping for herself.

She didn’t want to share how he makes her arch her back off the bed when he dips his head between her legs, or how he makes her shiver with the way he works his mouth on her, how she trembles while trying to be quiet, biting on her lip and seeking leverage on his hair.

Karen was not even a little bit eager to describe how he makes her come on his tongue, her skin erupting in goosebumps when he slides up to whisper how much he loves the taste of her, or how he is so good in reading her body that he knows just how to touch her to have her shivering for him all over again, or how perfectly he fits between her legs, how perfectly he fits inside her, her perfectly he moves within her.

This is just theirs.

But, maybe, depending on her mood, she can imply the way he rolls them around and perches her on top of him, and how very good she is at riding while his eyes inspect her, hungry and loving.

Maybe, just maybe, if the drinks are good and the mood is right, she might even tell them how hard he takes her from behind, and she has to scream into a pillow to avoid waking the kids, but even then he doesn’t stop, how he can go for so long she ends up dizzy.

Karen would never soberly admit how she begs for him, how he commands and she obeys, because this is the best she’s ever had, or how he tells her that he loves her so so so much while fucking her silly.

Her nosy and curious coworkers sure would like to know about the shower they shared after that, because they worked up quite a sweat, and maybe Sam, the hopeless romantic, would sigh if she told him that the way Frank looks at her makes her heart spread warmth all over her.

But she thought that it was private, just like the fact that her favorite position is when he’s fully lying on top of her and she is all tangled around him, or that is how the start and end most of their encounters, except when they’re too eager to make it to the bed.

Maybe she’ll tell them. We’ll see.

.:.

Frank is usually the first to wake up, so he’s the one that starts breakfast. Eggs and waffles with honey and jam, fruits, fresh juice for the kids and coffee for himself and the woman who stole his heart. A decent breakfast for a Saturday morning.

This morning, though, he had company. While he cracked eggs on top of melted butter, a tiny little puppy wobbled his way to the kitchen, no doubt following the smell.

After the table was set, Frank picked the dog up, feeding him a little treat, and walked back to the bedroom, to pick wake the rest of the house up.

And honestly. This boy is almost seven years old, now. Maybe it was about time he stopped climbing into his parents’ beds? He would have to talk to Maria about that.

Not that he didn’t like that his son felt safe and comfortable enough around Karen to sneak into bed with her and pass back out while Frank was in the kitchen, sleeping starfish style in the middle of the mattress, one of his feet on top of her stomach, his little chest rising and falling as he breathed.

(Good thing Karen insisted on changing the sheets last night after their enthusiastic reunion. Even tired as she was, she had the presence of mind to predict his kid’s behavior.)

“Go on”, he whispered to the dog, placing him on the bed, watching as he walked towards Frankie’s face to sniff and inspect.

Frank walked to the window and cracked the curtains open, letting a little sun in before lying back down on his side of the bed, moving the kid so he could fit.

“Morning”, Karen greeted, stretching, eyes still closed, moving her face towards his for a kiss. “Something smells good.”

“I made breakfast”, he said softly as the dog sniffed Frankie’s face and the boy turned away, groaning and rolling until he was lying on his stomach. “Hey there, buddy. When’d you get here?”

Soon, Lisa padded out of her bedroom and joined them, hair a mess, also woken up by her nose.

They walked to the table and Frank carried his youngest like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, placing him on the chair and laughing at his sleepy face while he blinked awake, staring at the plate in front of him.

Deep sleeper, Frank Jr.. Barely ever cried when he was a baby. Slept through the night from the beginning. Unlike Lisa, whose lungs capacity had humbled her parents and their neighbors alike.

Finally sitting down on his own chair after making sure everybody’s plate was full, Frank watched his daughter make plans with Karen about next year’s birthday, when she would be old enough for some of the bigger rides at Disney.

He thought he lost his family when he got divorced. Had night terrors about becoming one of those estranged fathers, alone and unloved for the rest of his life.

Instead, he never even had time to miss his kids. He just got a new dog, and there was a ring burning a hole inside the safe in his office.

All there was missing was a “yes”.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastle fic #kastle fluff #kastle smut #writing #Hell's kitchen Chronicles #Frank Castle #Karen Page #fix it fic #AU

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years ago

Text

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 8~

||Previous Chapter ||

Image Credit: Me. Pictures not mine obviously, but the collage is.

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, violence, suggested sexual/physical abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst.

Chapter Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while since I updated last! I’ve had an insane case of writers block that has been kicking my ass. Anywho, I hope you enjoy! There’s a new character, Tawni, introduced in this chapter, portrayed by the lovely @jacksonroth, who actually came up with the idea of a cross over between her own SOA fic and this one! So hop on over and check out ‘This Charming Life’ and show her some love!

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Music blared from the speakers of the stereo she set up outside in the storage unit. Teagan moving outside to work on the Chevelle some more after finishing up the last of her stress cleaning endeavor, having taken it upon herself after the guys left to spend the rest of the morning elbows deep in reorganizing the entire bar and kitchen areas, using it as a way to distract herself from the anxiety that still loomed at the back of her mind.

Until Gemma came back in from the office at least, taken aback at first by how much Teagan had managed to accomplish in just a few short hours. “You need a better hobby, Sweetheart.” She had stated sarcastically as she poured herself some more coffee.

“C’mon now, out with you.” She shooed Teagan out the back the door. “Delivery guy just dropped off a shit load of parts for your car. Go do something more productive, that doesn’t end in me having to explain to Clay why the Clubhouse got redecorated!”

And now here she sat, unboxing and organizing parts in the order they needed to be used. Knowing she couldn’t get much done work wise without having a second pair of hands, and with everyone gone for the day she was burnt on actually accomplishing anything. As she stood, beginning to organize all her parts, dragging one of the tool boxes over, she jumped as the storage door rattled as it was slid up and opened.

“For fuck’s sake, Gemma! I’m fine in here! You didn't want me in the clubhouse, you didn't want me cleaning...what else is there to-” As Teagan ranted at ‘Gemma’ she ground the heels of her palms into her eyes as she turned. When she finally lowered her hands, the black spots soon fading, she stopped short, staring at the dark, curly haired woman smirking at her, green eyes burning in excitement.

“Last I checked,” She started, waltzing into the room, stepping over the scattered car parts. “I only looked like Gemma?”

“Holy fuck. Tawni! What the hell are you doing here?!” Teagan cried, making her way over to her and wrapping her arms around her neck, both women squealing in delight as they hugged.

“Well, I just got back from my trip.” Tawni said as she let go of her friend. “I was up in Washington for a while, checking on a few friends. I was going to come down with Kozik, but shit got tied up.” Tawni gave a shrug as she spoke, shoving her hands into her back pocket. Teagan chuckled and shook her head, stepping back to lean against the car with a sigh.

“Well, shit. It’s still good to see you.” Teagan sighed. Tawni smiled and nodded in return.

“Yeah, you too. When did you blow back into town?” Tawni asked, looking around at all the parts, picking up a few to inspect them. Teagan smirked and swiped the part from her hands, setting it aside with a snide smirk, making Tawni giggle.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” She teased. Tawni smirked, realizing what she meant.

“Hey, honey. If the boot fits?” She teased back as Teagan chuckled and shook her head.

“It’s a long fucking story.” Teagan stated, gesturing to her still healing face. “One that I’m fairly certain calls for a drink...or a bottle. That’s up to you.” She smirked.

Tawni gave a low whistle and stepped closer, touching her face gingerly. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Who the fuck did ye piss off, Teage?” Tawni asked, a subtle hint of her accent coming through.

“Some of Darby’s dipshit crew members...Bradley to be exact.” Teagan replied with a small sneer at the memory that was still fresh in her mind.

“Bradley. Tha’ fuckin’ snake. Hasn’ he gotten ‘imself killed yet?!” Tawni cried with a sneer of her own before she went to Teagan and slid her arms around her neck, pressing her cheek to hers. “‘M’sorry, babe. Wish I was here when it happened, I would have kicked his arse.”

Teagan chuckled in response and shooed Tawni away, making her giggle. “It’s cool...he’ll get what’s comin’ to him sooner or later.” She replied with a sly smirk. “You said hi to Gem yet?”

Tawni giggled and shook her head. “No. I saw your ‘Quinn’ girl parked out front where the other bikes usually are, and I had to come see you first.” Tawni giggled with a small smirk. “Besides, I see Gemma all the time. I’m nothing new.”

“Well, it’ll be a goddamn miracle she doesn’t call out the entire Charming Police force when she sees us walk in together.” Teagan gave a small laugh as she wrapped an arm around Tawni’s shoulder and tugged her forward towards the Clubhouse. Tawni laughed as well, sliding her arm around Teagan’s waist.

“Oh, please. We were not that bad...it was a few bitch fights, that’s all.” Tawni said. Her lips twisted up in a smirk as she added, “Besides, we were still friends after it.”

“True…except for that one time I hotwired the Principles car and we spent two days in Juvie. You didn’t speak to me for like a week.” Teagan mused with a thoughtful and mischievous grin. “But memory lane aside, it’s a shame I busted ass all morning cleaning the bar…’cause that shit’s about to get wrecked!”

Tawni tossed back her head and laughed, Teagan giggling as the two women walked and talked their way to the clubhouse. Gemma looked up at the sound and went to the door of the office, leaning against it, smirk on her face as she shook her head.

“Oh. Shit.” Gemma muttered.

It was late, around 2am, when the guys finally rolled back into the lot at Teller-Morrow, finding it extremely unusual when they noticed the loud music bumping from the Clubhouse the second they cut the engines of their bikes. A round of questioning glances making its way through the group.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Clay muttered in a disgruntled tone as they made their way to the door, pausing briefly just outside at the sounds of the loud drunken laughter that could be heard from inside over the music that was blaring. Clay turning to fix Tig with a glare, hand on the door waiting to open it.

“Why the hell you lookin’ at me?” Tig stated defensively.

“Maybe because she’s your Sister.” Clay ground out between clenched teeth, not in the mood to deal with whatever nonsense was happening on the other side of the door.

“Jesus…” Tig muttered under his breath as he stepped forward, Clay opening the door and gesturing for him to enter first as he stepped aside. Tig groaned outwardly at the scene that lay out before him as he stepped inside, shaking his head, the rest of the guys entering cautiously behind him.

“TIGGY!” The two women exclaimed -- Teagan with a little less enthusiasm -- from where they sat on the bar. Tawni climbing over the top of Teagan, using her as a foothold as she climbed down upon spotting her Uncle; Chibs. Hugging Tig briefly before nearly tackling the Scotsman that stood directly behind him.

“Jesus...are you high?” Tig questioned as he approached his Sister who was now struggling to climb down off the bar, watching as she slipped, landing on the floor with an audible ‘THUD’.

“Teagan…” She corrected drunkenly as he reached down and pulled her up, steadying her as she swayed a little. “And as a fuckin’ kite.”

“The hell you guys doin’ havin’ a party without us, anyway?” Jax inquired with a curious grin as he propped a elbow against the bar, plucking one of the half smoked blunts from an ashtray and relighting it to take a hit.

“T-Think of it as a loooong awaited reunion of BFF’s.” Tawni chimed in drunkenly before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles that Teagan soon became a part of. Tig turning to share a scathing look with Chibs.

“Aye, well, as lovely as tha’ is; party’s over. Time for bed Lassies.” Chibs stated as he ushered Tawni forward towards the hallway, ignoring both her and Teagan’s protesting, which was eventually silenced by a stern look from Clay.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiine.” They both whined in unison.

“You two can continue your little ‘celebration’ some other time.” Clay stated flatly as he headed for the door of the Chapel. “But in the meantime, party’s over.”

“Looks like you two had quite a night.” Gemma stated sarcastically as she entered the Clubhouse to find both Teagan and Tawni, trash bags in hand, cleaning up their mess from the night before. Both girls groaning in disapproval at the intrusion of sunlight that the open door was providing as Gemma purposely held it open for longer than necessary.

“Don’t remind me…” Teagan all but gagged as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, pausing her cleaning efforts for a moment as she struggled not to be sick. “I can still taste the tequila.”

“So I suppose a round o’whiskies is ou’ of the question this mornin’, then?” Chibs chimed in sarcastically as he rounded the corner of the hallway and entered the room, leaning up against the bar with an amused grin as he watched them.

“Why you gotta be like that?” Tawni whined as she turned to glare at her Uncle. His grin widening as he glanced behind her to find Teagan, staring him down what he assumed was supposed to be a menacing look, but her disheveled appearance only made it all the more amusing. Chibs coughing into his hand to cover up a laugh as she rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning up empty beer bottles as Tawni turned around to do the same.

“Well, as entertaining as this is,” Gemma mused as she passed through the room to the kitchen, no doubt heading for a cup of coffee. “I’ve got work to do. Which reminds me, there’s a couple of rigs need picking up in town, when you get the chance. I have the paperwork in the office.” She added, stopping in front a Chibs for a moment, giving him her own look before continuing on to the kitchen.

“Aye.” Chibs sighed as he pushed away from the bar and started towards the door. “Ye lassies try not to have too much fun now, ye hear.” He teased, ducking to avoid the stray boot that was aimed at his head by his Niece as she started shouting -- what Teagan only assumed to be expletives -- at him in Gaelic. Chibs’ laughter echoing through the Clubhouse, even after the door had swung shut behind him as he headed for the shop.

“I need a shower...and about eight more hours of sleep.” Tawni mumbled as she retrieved her boot, tugging it back on before returning to finish clearing off the bar, Teagan wiping it down behind her as they finished cleaning up in mutual silence for the sake of the roaring headaches that plagued them both from the previous nights events. Teagan finally taking a seat and resting her forehead against the coolness of the bar top when Gemma hollered at her from the kitchen.

“For the love of God...just put me out of my misery already.” Teagan groaned as she slid off of the barstool to see what Gem needed.

“As fun as that sounds, I feel like a shower is of greater priority at the moment.” Tawni gave a smirk as she patted Teagan on the back quickly before taking off down the hall to her room.

“Bitch!” Teagan yelled after her as she started for the kitchen, giving a small smirk of her own a Tawni yelled back,

“Jerk!”

Gemma was standing at the counter, piece of paper in hand, when Teagan rounded the corner. Grabbing herself a cup of coffee before leaning against the counter with an expectant look as she sipped at the contents of her mug. “You yelled?”

“Engine for your car finally came in.” Gemma stated matter of factly as she slid the piece of paper across the counter, Teagan picking it up to inspect the phone number that had been written on it, along with what time and where she could pick it up from. “I’m sure Ope would let you borrow his truck since Chibs won’t be back with the Tow-Truck for a while.

Teagan gave a nod and tucked the piece of paper into the back pocket of her jeans as she straightened and grabbed her coffee, taking a sip before she said, “Is Ope here yet?”

Gemma nodded with a sigh. “He should be. I think he’s heading out with Chibs. You might be able to catch him.” She said. Teagan gave a soft groan, not really wanting to have to chase the man down, but she would for the sake of her car. Teagan set her coffee down on the counter before rushing out, catching the tow truck just as it passed.

“Hey!” Teagan shouted, waving her hands to get their attention as she came up to the passenger window, Opie stopping the truck and rolling the window down. “Hey, Opie, can I borrow your truck? My engine came in and I want to go pick it up.”

“For the Chevelle? Shit, already?” Opie asked, throwing the truck in park as he dug through his pockets for his keys. Teagan lit up despite her headache, if only briefly, excited to get things going with her car.

“Well, I’ve been here for a few weeks already. I ordered it when I found out Tig kept the damn thing.” She shrugged in response, reaching in and swiping the keys from Opie’s outstretched hand. Opie chuckled and nodded.

“Just don’t fuck it up my truck?” Opie asked.

“Aye, are ye still drunk?” Chibs teased. Teagan narrowed her eyes at him, smirking as she gave a small shake of her head, pocketing the keys.

“No.” She scoffed playfully. “I’m hungover, not drunk. There’s a difference, Scotty.”

Chibs snickered as Opie put the truck back in drive, waiting for Teagan to step away. “Well, we’ll just have to see abou’ tha’ when I get back, won’ we?” He teased, his voice low so only Teagan could hear. Her lips pricked up as she fought the goofy grin that threatened to spread across her face.

“Don’t you two have work to do?” She teased back, stepping away before turning and going back to the clubhouse. Opie chuckled and shook his head as he drove off.

“Dude. Really? You’re gonna mess around with Raven? You do remember her, right?” Opie asked as they drove down the street. Chibs sighed and nodded.

“Aye. After’ las’ nigh’, seein’ her wit’ Tawni. I forgot how close they were before.” Chibs stated.

“And that still doesn’t change your mind? Or the fact that she’s Tig’s little sister?” Opie asked. Chibs scoffed, brushing the comment off.

“Och, i’s jus a bit’o fun. Nothin’ serious.” Chibs said, earning a snicker from Opie as he rolled his eyes..

“Right.”

Back in the clubhouse, Teagan still needed a little more of a pick me up, spiking her coffee with just a touch of whiskey, the thought of tequila making the back of her throat closing up in attempt to stop the threat of potentially throwing up. Tawni’s laughter perked her up a bit as she turned to see her walking down the hall with Juice. Teagan smirked and turned on the barstool, watching the pair, as she was still invisible to them for the time being.

“Come on, Tawn. You used to be as bad as the rest of us...you really don’t fight anymore?” Juice teased, grabbing a fistful of her side, making her squeak, laugh and jump as she turned to him, trying to pry his fingers away. She bit her lip as Juice moved his hands, Tawni’s hands around his wrists, pulling her closer as he moved his arms behind his back. Her laughter died off, slowly, as they got a little closer.

Teagan desperately wanted to witness this historical event, something that would make her ‘affair’ with Chibs pale in comparison to his precious niece flirting with a member, but she was still a decent enough friend that she cleared her throat, making her presence known and making the pair jump and move away from each other, both of them afraid it was Chibs. But Tawni sighed when she saw it was just Teagan.

“See? Even ask Teagan.” Juice said, diverting the moment as they approached the bar. “You can’t tell me you believe her, that she doesn’t fight anymore.”

Teagan shrugged. “Well, I haven’t exactly been around lately, but...I believe her.”

Juice sighed and shook his head as Tawni went behind the bar, pulling out a beer and opening it before she handed it to him.

“I told you. You don’t see me as often anymore. I’m fucking mature, thank you.” Tawni giggled in reply as Teagan swung back around to the bar and leaned over her coffee cup with a soft groan. Tawni looked over her best friend and giggled. “Hey, I’m gonna hit the store. Gonna get some things to make my Nan’s hangover stew. Wanna come?”

Teagan shook her head and sat up, saying, “Nah. I have to go pick up my engine from the shop.”

Tawni gave a small pout, but shrugged it off and wiped down the bar, double checking everything before she left. The deviousness of Teagan’s mind began working as she sat back and added, “But, um...Juicy, why don’t you accompany her? I do still remember our dear, sweet, little Tawni likes company when she shops.”

“It’s called impulse control, and I’ve gotten a better hold on it, thank you...Bitch…” Tawni stated with a giggle. Teagan snickered and shrugged, going back to her coffee. Tawni glanced at Juice and said, “But I would like the company...especially being hungover.”

Juice smirked and set his beer down, leaning a little closer. “Yeah. Sure. I don’t have much to do today. I can come.” He said. Tawni bit her lip and smiled with a nod.

“Cool. I’ll go grab my stuff and meet you out front?” She said. Juice nodded and watched her as she walked off, letting out a heavy sigh as he smirked and bit his lower lip. Once she was out of sight, Juice chuckled and turned back to talk to Teagan, but stopped and jumped when he saw the fierce look she had fixed him with. He glanced around before he said, “What did I do?”

“Nothing...yet. Just make sure you’re well aware, that not only will Chibs kill you if he finds you with her, but I will break your face and cut off your balls if you ever hurt her…” Teagan threatened, making Juice’s eyes grow wide. “Don’t forget who I am, Juice.”

“No. Nope. No. Never. I-I promise.” Juice stumbled.

Teagan glared at him for a moment longer, then smirked and chirped, happily, “Good. Then have fun! Oh, and, if I were you, I’d make the first move? Tawni really wants to make good on her promise to Chibs about not messing around with members, but if you initiate, she won’t see it as her breaking the promise.”

Teagan giggled and wiggled her fingers at him as she left the clubhouse, with a little sing-song, “Have fun!”

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

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