#this was supposed to be quick and easy low effort warm up stuff

[smolfoxbab]

guys in situations

[arrowflier]

Thank you for brightening my day with your stories. I always look forward to checking out your blog. Here's a prompt for you: S10 and 11, but Fiona is there and never left Chicago. How does the story change? Does she calm things down or cause more chaos? How does she get along with newer characters Tami (who she only knew a little) and Sandy? How does she react to Frank's dementia and death? Does she use her landlord skills and make Lip sign a damn lease before renting on a handshake deal?!

There's so much potential with this, but I just picked a few short scenes from season 11 to try and get a vibe!

--

“He can’t just kick you guys out,” Fiona insisted, following Lip through the house. He skirted the edge of the sofa on his way to the kitchen, and she almost ran into it. Only years of muscle memory and navigating her home in the dark—unpaid electric bills, drunken stupors, trying not to wake up the kids—kept her from banging her hip against the arm.

“He can,” Lip argued, passing through to the next room, “and he did.” He opened the fridge, looked at the beer cans inside. Closed it again, and got a glass of water from the tap instead.

“Sold it right out from under us,” he said bitterly into the glass. “New owners want us out before they close.

Fiona watched him take a sip, make a face and swallow it. Then she slapped the back of his head, hard, and grabbed the water before he could drop it.

“Listen to me,” she ordered as he scowled, rubbing the injury. She leaned down to get on the same level, face to disgruntled face. “I was a landlord, remember?”

“Not a very good one,” Lip muttered, and flinched back when she raised her hand again. She lowered it when he put his own up in surrender.

“I was a landlord,” she repeated, then paused, lips twisting. “And one of the reasons I’m not anymore is cause of a family of squatters I couldn’t get rid of.”

“And?” Lip asked, eyebrows raised. “The fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” she said dryly, then, “If it was that easy to kick somebody out, don’t you think I would’ve done it?”

Lip frowned.

“I mean, sure,” he said slowly, working through the thought. “But we don’t even have a lease.”

“Neither did they, that’s for damn sure,” Fiona grumbled. She turned to lean back against the counter next to him, shoulder to broad shoulder. Both had held enough wait for a lifetime.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him. “That you don’t have a lease, I mean.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“The eviction process isn’t as quick as people think.”

Lip’s brow furrowed as he glanced up at her.

“Are you…” Lip trailed off, started again. “Are you telling me to make him take us to court?”

Fiona smiled.

I’m telling you you might as well fight for it,” she said. “You’re broke anyway; what have you got to lose?”

---

“Can you believe her?” Debbie spit out, slamming the cabinet door shut. She stood, holding a box of cake mix, and set it down so hard on the counter that Fiona’s drink almost tipped over.

“Believe what?” Fiona asked, scooting back just in case. “That she left?”

Debbie glared.

“No, not that,” she said. “I told her to leave, remember?”

“What then?” Fiona took a sip of her beer, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter once she deemed it safe again.

“That she just abandoned her kid,” Debbie said. “Left him all alone, no mother, no nothing, just so she could go live a little.”

Oh. Fiona frowned.

“Debs…” she stared, swirling the dregs of beer left in the bottom of the bottle. She looked back up at her sister, down again to shield herself from the heat Debbie let off.

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“How can you say that?” Debbie asked, loud, angry. “You of all people know what it’s like to be…to be abandoned!”

Debbie bent down to grab a heavy metal bowl, slammed that down, too. The sound echoed, ringing through the quiet room. By the time it faded, she had too.

“It’s not the same, is it?” Debbie asked quietly, and Fiona shook her head.

“No,” she answered, just as soft. “No, it’s not.”

“Guess I should talk to her,” Debbie whispered, flat. Defeated.

“Probably,” Fiona agreed, then stood.

“Spend some time with Franny, first,” she suggested on her way toward the stairs, looking back in time to meet Debbie’s eyes as she lifted them.

“You’ve done a good job with her, you know,” Fiona said, and smiled. “I’m really proud of you”

And then she walked up the steps, and left Debbie to her thoughts.

---

“What—Mickey?” Fiona asked, passing her brother’s husband in the doorway. He was scowling, shoulders squared, stomping through the door and outside.

“You’re brother’s an asshole,” he answered shortly, and then he was gone.

Fiona watched him go. Then she went straight through the house, and out the back door, to where she knew Ian waited.

Sure enough, the door opened onto his stiff back, and she slipped out without a word. Sat down next to him, there on the stairs, and stole the cigarette from his hand.

“Thought you were trying to be healthier,” she asked, taking a long drag.

He reached for it, and she passed it back, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, well,” he said, just staring at the glowing end of the stick. “Not much point in that if I can’t even afford to pay the bills next month.”

That again. Fiona sighed.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” she tried, but Ian waved her off before she could finish.

“We’d be better if he’d get a damn job.”

Fiona nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “we might be.” The filter of the cigarette was burning low, close to Ian’s fingers, so she took it again and threw it under her shoe.

“But are you willing to give everything up on a maybe?”

Ian looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaned into him. He was as tall as her, now, and her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder.

“You’ve got the closest thing to happiness any of us have ever seen,” she said, looking out over the yard. She picked absently at the step she sat on, prying up thin splinters and smoothing them back down again.

“Maybe you should just let yourself have it, for a while.”

Ian was silent. But he reached an arm up around her back, let her in closer. Rested his chin on her head.

“You think so?” he finally asked, so quiet she barely heard it.

She rested a hand on his knee, squeezed it. Breathed out.

“I really do.”

---

“Oh my god, Liam, where have you been?”

Fiona was on him the moment he got through the door, long arms scooping him into a hug so tight she grunted with the effort.

“I was so worried,” she said, pulling back, hands gently but firm as they found his face. “You can’t just disappear like that, Liam, I sent everyone out to look for you hours ago!”

“You noticed?” Liam asked, his young face scrunched, and Fiona shook him, then folded him back into her arms.

“Of course I noticed, you little asshole,” she muttered into his hair, pressing her cheek against springy strands. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Liam shrugged, his shoulders barely moving in her tight embrace.

“Everybody is so busy,” he said. “Trying to figure stuff out.”

“So?” Fiona asked, still holding him, hands smoothing down the back of his hand-me-down shirt. “Why does that mean you get to wander off without telling me?”

“Gotta figure out my stuff too, don’t I?” he answered, quiet, sad, and Fiona let go of him to crouch down. She looked him in the eyes, brushing a hand over his soft hair, and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You’re a kid,” she said firmly. “What do you need to figure out that you can’t come to me for?”

“Where to live, for one,” Liam said, looking away, and Fiona frowned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’ll come live with me.”

His eyes widened, and she hesitated.

“Do you…” She paused, swallowed. “Do you not want that?”

Liam just blinked. Then smiled, bright and relieved, and buried his head down on her shoulder in all the answer she needed.

---

“Hey, You okay?” Fiona asked, coming up behind Carl where he stood staring at Frank’s ashes on the mantel. She put a hand up on his shoulder, rubbed once, twice.

“Course I am,” Carl answered, all swagger and false confidence. “Frank was an asshole.”

Fiona hummed.

“He was,” she agreed. “But he was our asshole. And I know you two used to be close.”

“Nobody was close to Frank,” Carl muttered bitterly. “They just thought they were.”

A beat passed, tense, quiet. Then Carl’s shoulders sagged.

“Not like he was the same Frank anymore, anyway,” he said softly.

Fiona stepped closer, a warm presence at his side.

“Does that make it easier?” she asked. “Or harder?”

Carl shrugged.

“Neither, I don’t think,” he answered, then his face scrunched, the way it used to when his brothers made him think to hard. “Just feel like it’s wrong to still be mad at him, you know? He didn’t even remember all the shit he did, at the end.”

Fiona looked at him, and smiled sadly.

“That’s okay,” she said simply. “I’m still mad, too.”

After another moment, she leaned in, kissed the side of his head.

“Time to get to work though,” she said, “we can be as maudlin as you like when you get back.”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked, following her into the kitchen, and she laughed as she dug his packed lunch out from the back of the fridge.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, “but right now, work mister!”

Carl accepted the answer, and his lunch. Then, as Fiona grabbed her keys off the counter, the ones to her new SUV, he said, “I’m thinking of quitting, you know.”

Fiona didn’t hesitate, shoving him toward the door.

“That’s fine,” she said, slamming it shut behind them. “But until them, no brother of mine is going to be late!”

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Presents and Kisses

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,858

Summary: It’s reader’s birthday and Reid has some surprises up his sleeve. Dedicated to the lovely @saviorsong​. Happy Birthday! 

The café was a small, single room operation so sound from both the dining area and the kitchen traveled throughout. And everyone heard when your boyfriend came out of the bathroom, throwing the door open with such force that a bang rang out from where it hit the wall.

The poor barista almost dropped a drink they were making out of surprise.

“Babe, that was the biggest shit I’ve taken this month,” Reid practically shouted as he made his way back to the table.

You didn’t bother to acknowledge that particular comment and kept your attention on Tyler who had also tagged along with you guys. It was better to not entertain poop talk seeing as how you were in public.

“Babe! Did you hear what I said?”

“I think everyone did,” you replied pointedly. He dropped into his chair, hands clutching at his stomach.

You continued chatting with Tyler about a class you were taking and Reid still kept fidgeting and groaning. He was normally dramatic but he was really hamming it up.

You turned to him with a raised brow. That was all it took for him to increase his complaining.

“I think it was the food. It’s gotta be food poisoning, I feel so sick.”

“But we ate from the same plate.”

A glance at the table showed a shared plate that had long been eaten with not a drop of sauce left on the it after you both had all but cleaned the dish. If he actually had food poisoning, shouldn’t you be feeling it too? Your stomach felt perfectly fine, if not satisfied.

“Everyone reacts differently to these things, you know.”

Tyler nodded seriously, corroborating Reid’s claim. Those two were thicker than thieves, always ready to back each other up.

“No telling how bad this could get. I’m gonna head home but you should stay, Ty can hang out with you,” he said.

“Really?” Your tone was colored with incredulously. “Today of all days?”

He completely ignored that and bent down for a kiss. You were extremely tempted to turn away but ended up giving in. Reid may be an idiot, but he was your idiot. Keeping up with the sick-as-a-dog routine, he gingerly hobbled out of the café.

And since he was your idiot, you knew something was definitely up. You didn’t claim to be the smartest person around but Reid wasn’t exactly subtle.

Immediately, your attention turned towards Tyler. If one was plotting, then the other would know.

The brunette raised his hands as if to keep things peaceful. “Okay, okay. Don’t be upset.”

“It’s my birthday and my man just ran out under suspicious circumstances. I have every right to be annoyed.”

“Exactly! You’re the reason why he left!” He paused for an awkward second. “Wow. That came out totally wrong. What I mean is that he’s setting up something nice for you.”

“He is?” you asked suddenly touched.

Reid was a romantic sort. Maybe not always so smooth about it, but a romantic nonetheless. And he did do things for you often, even if a good number of things were in an attempt to apologize for something stupid he did, but he had never done a birthday surprise.

Well, not one where he had kept it a surprise for this long. Normally he couldn’t keep quiet about his plans so you were a bit impressed that you hadn’t noticed until his terrible acting just then.

Tyler nodded again, this time in excitement. “Yep. He needs a few hours to get it ready though…we can either stay here or walk around. Your birthday, your choice.”

His methods may be, well, unconventional, but your heart beat a little faster knowing he was planning something. Your mind wandered, thinking up various possibilities. Two hours couldn’t go by fast enough.

***

It ended up being close to six o’clock before you returned home.

You closed the door gently and toed your shoes off. The quietness seemed that much thicker with anticipation weighing heavily.

A trail of rose petals wound around the living room and trailed down the hallway, presumably to the bedroom, but you got distracted by a tantalizing aroma. 

You followed that into the kitchen instead and found a skillet filled with something delicious. Other bowls with other fantastic side dishes were arranged randomly around it on the countertops.  

And then you noticed the cake. Unlike the others, the cake was displayed on the table, a package of candles lying next to it. You walked closer to get a better view and couldn’t the grin hat spread across your face.

Clearly, he had made the cake himself. Not that that was off-putting to you in any way. It was really quite cute.

He had made a small two-layer cake which in of itself didn’t look too bad. The sides were not traditionally frosted so, the parts that were visible, you could see that the shape and the softness looked about right. Kind of. 

In lieu of normal frosting, he had attempted to coat them with a crumb frosting of some sort. Despite his best effort, the crumbs didn’t hadn’t spread evenly with some parts having barely any and others having too much.

It looked like he also had issues with the frosting on top. You guessed that he had tried to apply it while the cake was still warm because it was thinner than it should have been, almost glaze-like. Some had even started to leak over the sides before it was cool enough to harden up again.

Even with flaws, it was still the sweetest, frumpiest birthday cake you could ever remember someone making for you.

You stuck out a finger trying to taste the crumb coat when you felt a sharp smack to your ass.

“Oww!” Rubbing it, you saw Reid standing behind you with a towel in his hand. “Did you really just spank me with a towel?”

“It’s not time for cake yet,” he said. He was shirtless, tattoos on display, baggy cargo pants riding low on his hips. There was a hint of tiredness in his eyes but it was mostly irritation. “This part was for last. You were supposed to follow the roses first.”

Ah. He was irritated that you messed up the plan. But you were so excited to see what else he had in store that you didn’t answer back with a sharp quip of your own. “Then lead the way.”

With a sigh, he put his hands on your shoulders and walked you out of the kitchen. His grip was gentle though so you knew he wasn’t seriously frustrated with you.

The path of rose petals came back into view and you realized they were from a real flower and not plastic. A warm feeling spread through you and it only grew the closer the closer the path drew you to the bedroom. Reid stayed just behind you the whole way, your gentle guide.

“The flowers are beautiful, Reid.”

“I know. And a normal person would’ve followed them from the start.”

“Sorry,” you giggled. “The food all looked really good though. Three Michelin stars across the board.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the door, would ya?”

You pushed the door with your fingers, thoughts racing. What were you going to find? That fancy stationary set you’d been eyeing online? A fluffy, tail-wagging puppy? A chest of kinky toys?

With Reid it could any one of the three. Maybe even all three.

Tons of balloons were inflated and rolling around the floor, so much so that you had to kick a few out of the way to be able to step in. Even a birthday banner hung over the bed when he had thumbtacked it into the wall.

But the gift was unmistakable.

The large woven basket was sitting on the dresser, fibers dyed your favorite color was hard to miss.

Then came the stuff that was practically overflowing from said basket. You rummaged through it like a old woman at a yard sale, pulling out something new with every handful.

Jewelry. A soft blanket. Cans of your favorite type of drink. Hand painted ceramics. Some hard cover additions you’d been meaning to add to your personal library. New head phones. Dozens of origami creatures. A tee from your favorite team. Coffee mugs and several blends of beans. Hand-held tools  to replace your old ones with. And not only a stationary set but a wax letter stamp seal as well.

And everything from the basket to the last gift followed the same theme: it was all in your favorite color.

You jumped into his arms and he caught you. “I’m—this is…this is…”

“What?” he said, his breath tickling your ear and fingers gripping your thighs tightly. “Impressive? Inspiring? The best goddamn gift you’ve ever seen?”

“Touching,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the soft expression on his face.

“How did you even manage to find some of this stuff in this color?”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you…”

He went on explaining how he started with the just the stationary (you were right and he had noticed you looking at it) in your favorite color.

Then he added the headphones, also in your favorite color.

Then he’d painted the ceramic pieces himself.  

Eventually thinking up even more potential presents to get, he’d come up with the idea to do everything in that color. The tools were the hardest but he was very proud that he’d been able to pull it off with the help of a custom order from a local business.

“This is super touching. Thanks for putting in this much thought and effort,” you said finally lifting your head up to give him a kiss.

It was meant to be a quick peck but Reid’s lips followed yours when you tried to pull back, turning it into something more passionate. He even managed to lick his way into your mouth before you finally parted, panting for air.

“Mmm,” he breathed, lips back on yours. “You’re eager to get to the next event.”

You made a confused sound in your throat which he swallowed. One of his hands traveled up your leg and over your hip to come to a rest on your lower back. He turned you and that’s when you noticed the bed.

The comforter was already pulled slightly down and more rose petals were scattered all around. He laid you down on the mattress and prowled up your body. The petals were even more fragrant now that you were closer to them.

“What’s the next event?” you asked coyly although it wasn’t hard to guess.

“One kiss for every year you’ve been alive,” he said with a cocked smile. “It was either that many kisses or that many orgasms—I figured all those orgasms might be too much for you though.”

You bit his bottom lip and snuck your fingers under the waistband of his cargo pants suggestively. “How about both?”

He watched in rapture as you removed your shirt, eyes glued to your chest.  

“Anything for you, babe. Happy Birthday.”

_______________

Yay! Thanks for reading. I hope this was alright. 

In my mind, Reid is the type of romantic to make you things, hence the food, origami, and ceramics. But sensual time will also be included just because. 

Honestly, he probably heard what Caleb did for his s/o and, in typical competitive fashion, decided he could do better. He roped in Tyler to keep reader distracted and spent a few hours cooking, decorating, and assembling the massive personalized gift basket. 

They likely did reach fulfill the birthday kiss count but how many orgasms they managed to achieve is up to your imagination. 

[yeenybeanies]

Slaying Monsters

i started this three months ago, and decided it was time to finish it. i’ve been wanting to write a piece with dev & some other gang members for a while now i didn’t proofread it yet don’t @ me

red dead redemption | charles smith & devin clarke ( oc )

3,728 words

language, blood, & animal death warnings

thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!! patreon | ko-fi

Unattended bags are always tempting to a borrower. It’s partly survival and partly curiosity that draws the little beings to bags and boxes and other such vessels that contain stuff. Ideally, that stuff would be useful. 

Such is Devin’s idea upon approaching a lone saddlebag. They’ve been watching it for a while now. It has remained unbothered and undisturbed atop a tree stump for over an hour. Surely there’s bound to be something good inside, what with the many members of the Van Der Linde gang constantly coming and going. And surely, whatever those contents may be, small amounts won’t be missed.

The coast is clear. The camp is preoccupied in tending to the daily duties; no one is paying the bag any mind. Devin makes a break for it, keeping low as they run through the grass, to the stump. They pause at the base and give the camp a quick look, pleased to see that no one has taken notice of their presence. For just a moment, they allow themself a prideful smirk, then they refocus on the task at hand: climb the stump and get in the bag. The former is hardly a challenge; deep cracks in the bark provide handholds enough that the borrower doesn’t need their hook or climbing equipment to scale it. Despite the strap and buckle keeping the bag shut, Devin is small enough to slip through a gap and reach the interior. 

The space is dark and cramped, but some light filters in through the gap they’d entered. The first thing Devin notices is the smell of leather and sweat, and fabric beneath their feet. Clothing. It’s best not to take anything from these; missing scraps from a shirt or a pair of pants would definitely be noticed. Deeper down, past the clothes, another smell becomes more prominent: something earthy and floral. That could be useful. Devin crawls through the mounds of fabric, navigating the musty space, until their hand brushes something soft. A bit more pawing around reveals it to be an umbel of little flowers. Intrigued, they grasp the stem and pull the plant into the light for better inspection. 

“ What the hell…. ”   White flowers, jagged leaves…. Devin scrunches their nose, confused. Is their plant identification knowledge failing them? Or is the owner of this bag an idiot? 

Pondering is short-lived. Footsteps approach from the outside––a human. Devin’s heart speeds up. They drop the plant and dive for cover within the clothes just as the bag is lifted. It sways in the air with the human’s long strides, most disorienting. When the swaying stops, the borrower remains hidden, knowing full-well that they are not safe yet. There’s an exchange of words overhead, a brief moment of stillness, and then the world starts tumbling. Devin clutches hard onto the clothing concealing them. Much to their chagrin, this particular jostling is painfully familiar. They’re on a horse. 

Somehow, being in a saddlebag is worse than being stuck under a hat. 

Fuck. 

Suppressing the sickening feeling in their stomach and the myriad of emotions swarming their brain, Devin fights against the horrible shaking and pushes their way out of the fabric folds. Climbing is significantly harder, but they still press on, going so far as to use their knife and hook for more purchase on the tough leather. Slowly but surely, they manage to reach the opening they’d initially climbed through and peek out. The wind whips and frays their hair and makes it difficult to see much of anything. They catch glimpses of the ground speeding below at breakneck speed, and at the horse’s white-and-grey spotted pelt. 

Most surprisingly, and to some relief, though, is the rider. The long, black hair and the big, sawed-off shotgun identify the man: “Charles!” 

Alas, their voice is unheard over the wind. Devin growls, frustrated, and retreats back into the relative safety of the saddlebag. There’s no use trying to get his attention right now. They’re just going to have to endure the bouncing and the shaking until he slows down. They can only pray that it’s soon.

———

Only an hour or so elapsed by the time the galloping slowed, though, to Devin, it felt like a lifetime. Despite their queasiness (courtesy of the bumpy ride), the borrower pushes free of the mountains of fabric and scrambles up the leathery interior, to the opening. They pause at the rim and focus on swallowing the bile in their throat, then, once it’s clear, level the back of the human’s head with a hard stare. 

They breathe in until their chest burns, and let out the loudest yell they can muster: “CHARLES!”  

The man jumps in his saddle and whips his head around, one hand to the shotgun on his hip. His eyes scan the horizon behind him, well over Devin’s head. 

“Down here. Hey!” They wave an arm, trying to ignore how foolish they feel. Even after months of being around Arthur, it still goes against everything they know as a borrower to flag down a human. 

Were the situation different—were Devin not currently fighting some ferocious nausea—they might find it comical how Charles’s expression changes. First he’s struck with recognition, eyes still on the horizon, and then the color in his face pales with realization and horror. Slowly, as if he were making every effort to delay the inevitable find, his gaze lowers to the gap under the saddle bag flap and the little borrower peeking out. 

“Devin?” It still takes him a moment to process their presence, and then he’s all but falling out of the saddle (much to his horse’s displeasure). After he’s got his feet on the ground and his balance under control, the man unbuckles the saddlebag lid and flips it open. The color is rapidly returning to his face in a heated flush. “M-Miss Clarke, I didn’t know you were—why are you in my bag?” His hand nears them, but Devin waves it off. 

“Don’t. I might puke. It’s a marvel that I haven’t already.” They try to suppress a shudder.  “I didn’t know this was your bag. I just saw it sitting back at the camp, untouched for some time. Thought I could get something useful.” 

Charles grimaces sympathetically and lets his hand come to rest on his horse’s flank. He isn’t thrilled to hear that someone was rummaging through his belongings for things to scavenge, but such behavior is to be expected from a borrower, he figures. It does make him feel a little better to know that Devin hadn’t been targeting him specifically. 

“I should take you back to camp. Arthur would kill me if something happened to you.” Never mind the berating Charles would give himself. He might not know Devin as well as Arthur does, but their charm is infectious. They are well on their way to having another human wrapped around their teeny tiny finger. 

“I’d like that. Eventually. But I don’t think I can take much more galloping right now. Riding in Arthur’s hat was better than riding in here.” The borrower leans over the leather with a quiet groan. The nausea is subsiding, albeit slowly. They do stiffen just a little when Charles lightly rubs a knuckle to their back, but the gentle pressure draws another, more content groan from their tiny lungs. 

“I'm alright,” they say after a minute. They glance up at Charles, offering him a weak but grateful smile, and then look to their surroundings. It’s not anywhere they recognize, but that’s not surprising. “So where are we going? ” 

“Well, I was going out foraging,” the man says. “Now that you’re here, though…” He trails off, uncertain. 

“Oh! Speaking of foraging–––” the borrower vanishes back into the bag, leaving Charles perplexed. Once they emerge again, they hold up a sprig of white flowers. “What the hell are you doing with this?” 

Charles squints at the plant, then raises his brow in realization. “You know what that is?” 

The surprise in his voice is a little insulting. Devin scrunches their nose. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Smith. I’ve lived in the wild most of my life. I know what water hemlock is.” 

He holds his hands up and offers an apologetic shrug. “That’s actually what I was going to forage for. I found some while I was out with Javier the other day, but I didn’t have time to collect more.” 

“Okay.”  Devin inspects the flowers, twirling the stem between their hands. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re going to do with it. Are you planning to poison someone? Is it that Micah guy?” 

That earns them a snort. If only. “No. I use it on my knives and arrowheads. That and oleander sage. Gives them an extra kick.” 

Devin frowns, just a smidge disappointed.  “I suppose that’s a good alternative use. I used to do the same with my knife when I could find hemlock.” They drop the sprig and watch it fall to the ground far below. “It’d be so easy to poison Micah though…” They say so only half-jokingly. 

“Don’t I know it.” Charles shares the sentiment, but he shakes his head. Much as he’d like to see that snake gone, it’s not his place to do anything about his presence. Yet. 

Now that the nausea has passed (for the most part), the borrower pulls themself from the bag and climbs up the saddle, making their way up to the seat. “I’m okay now,” they say. “We’ve already come this far. We might as well go get that hemlock. I can use it too.”

Charles looks a little uncertain, but when he opens his mouth to protest, Devin levels him with a hard stare that makes him think twice. He clears his throat. “Why don’t you ride up here with me?” he offers. “It’d probably be a bit smoother.” 

Smoother would certainly be welcomed. Devin nods and climbs onto the man’s hand when it’s brought down to their level. His skin is warm and rough, similar to Arthur’s hands. Unlike Arthur, though, he carries them with greater caution. Devin pats his thumb. 

“Relax. I’m not made of paper.”  

“Er… right.”  

They can’t fault him for his caution. Charles has significantly less experience handling Devin than does Arthur. If anything, it’s comforting to know that he is actively trying to keep them comfortable. 

He grabs the saddlehorn with his free hand and hauls himself up. First he brings them to his lap, and then, after thinking, lifts them higher to his shoulder, where they climb off. Devin sits just outside of his beaded necklace and takes a handful of his hair. 

“Is this going to bother you?” 

“No, it’s fine. Use what you need. Let me know if you start to slip.” 

Once he’s sure Devin is secure––as secure as they can be on his shoulder––he spurs his horse gently in the ribs. They set off at a slow canter, something a bit less bumpy than the gallop before. Charles is correct: it’s more comfortable riding on his shoulder than it was in the bag, if only a little bit. Devin resigns themself to the reality that they will likely never enjoy travel on horseback, but this is at least tolerable. 

Charles is silent for the most part, which doesn’t bother Devin. They find themself occupied looking at the scenery. From their usual vantage point on the ground, they don’t much get to appreciate views of mountains and trees and vast prairies. Even on the off occasion that they hitch a ride on Arthur’s person, they often take to hiding in his scarf, thus dashing any chances of catching the view. 

Despite the ride’s discomfort, Devin finds themself enjoying this. They are grateful, though, when Charles tugs the reins and brings the horse to a gradual stop. He spares them a glance when they sigh. 

“You doing okay?” 

“Just peachy.” Devin gives the shoulder beneath them a pat. He dismounts rather awkwardly, trying not to jostle them too much. 

It strikes Devin that they have not just one, but two humans invested in their safety and comfort. It leaves them with mixed feelings fluttering about in their chest. 

Best not to dwell on it right now. 

Walking is a little choppy at first, what with Charles figuring out how best to adjust his gait with Devin on his shoulder, but, once he figures out a good rhythm, it smooths out. He steps carefully, eyes scanning the ground for the plants he seeks. Devin watches too, though they’re less focused on the hemlock and more interested in… well, everything else. Hemlock is but one plant in a new area full of things to explore. 

“Hey. Let me down.” Devin gives the man’s hair a light tug, drawing his attention back to them. Though he can’t fully look at them from where they sit, he still furrows his brow in an uncertain expression meant for them. Devin rolls their eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a big boy, Charles; I walk around on my own every day.”

“I’m sure, but–––”

“Either you let me down or I’m jumping.” That seems to work. Charles acquiesces with a reluctant sigh and gingerly helps the borrower down to the ground. He remains crouched after they hop off of his hand, still looking unsure. Devin waves up at him. “Go on. Keep doing what you were doing. I’m fine.” 

“Yell if you get into trouble,” he says, voice stern. Devin chooses not to take offense. 

“Sure thing.” They part with a final wave and dart off into the grass, out of the human’s view. Still he hesitates, but he does eventually get up and carry on with his task. Devin breathes out an exasperated breath. 

Having the care and concern of two humans is endearing, yes, but it can also be annoying. Devin might need to have a stern talk with the both of them if they keep this overprotective behavior up. They aren’t a child.

Charles does not feel good about just leaving Devin on the ground, but it wouldn’t have been right of him to hold them like some helpless creature. They’ve reminded him twice now that this is the life they live; he makes a mental note to try and be more respectful of that. After all, he reasons that he wouldn’t much appreciate it if someone else tried to keep him from doing the things he does every day. He isn’t palm-sized, but he imagines Devin still doesn’t care to be doted over. So he bites back his unease. He came out here for water hemlock. That’s what he’s going to find. Devin will be okay. 

Following the nearby creek, Charles begins his search. He tests the soil beneath him with his foot, feeling its spring, its moisture, then starts scanning. Familiar white flowers speckle the banks. A faint smile creeps onto his lips. There’s plenty here for him to make use of.

–– –– ––

Devin pushes through the tall foliage, looking high and low for anything that might be useful. They find medicinal herbs, and spices for seasoning. Mentally they commend Charles; he sure knows where to look when it comes to valuable natural resources. Some of these plants are a rare find back at Horseshoe Outlook. They pick and take as much as they can carry, stuffing their bag full. 

All is going fine. It’s going great, even. They’re making their way back down to the ground, munching on a sweet, juicy raspberry. The red fruit soaks their hands, their face, and their clothes, making them appear as though they’d just mauled something. It makes them snicker, thinking how Charles will react to see them like this. Their good humor dies suddenly, though. Devin feels a chill rush down their spine. They pause, alert, head on a swivel. 

In an instant, everything seems to slow down. Devin drops to the ground as a pink, gaping mouth sails just a hair’s breadth over their head. It snaps shut, long fangs closing around air, and the scaly head of a rattlesnake retreats back to its coils, gearing up for another strike. Berry forgotten, Devin pulls their knife and their hook out. They stare the snake down just as it does them. It’s big––not just to them, but by rattlesnake standards. It’s a big fucking snake. The borrower’s heart races in their chest, but they don’t run, nor do they back down.

–– –– ––

Charles takes several clippings of water hemlock and carefully stows them in his satchel. He doesn’t take everything that he sees, not wanting to clear the area of the deadly plant, but he’s pleased with his haul so far. Already he has enough to coat his knives twice over, so he thinks that he could probably give Arthur and Javier some as well, so as not to waste it. He takes a few more stalks, then stands and stretches his back, arms held out to the side. 

“That’s enough,” he mumbles to himself. He turns back to where he’d left Devin and scans the ground. Their tiny footprints are just barely visible in the dirt, and disappear into the grass. 

“Miss Clarke?” he calls, taking a knee near the footprints. They don’t answer. “I think I’m just about done here, so I’m ready to go when you––woah––!” The man jumps back as a rattlesnake head pushes through the grasses. Layers of alarm spike in his brain: it’s a big-ass snake; Devin isn’t here; it has blood on its face; Did it eat Devin––? 

“Just ‘Devin,’ Charles,” says the tiny voice. Charles flinches again. He swears he heard that voice coming from the snake. Did it eat them? He stares on in confusion, pondering whether or not he needs to cut the damn thing open, when its head flops to the side. Hauling it along is the little borrower. 

“Oh my god. Are you––did the snake–––?” He stammers over his words, which surprises Devin. Arthur stammers here and there, but Charles is always so clear and calm when he speaks. They glance down at themself, noting the red stain and slick coating their hands, their head, their clothes… 

“Ah! It’s okay! This isn’t––” they drop the snake and wave their hands, trying to placate the man, “I’m okay! This is all snake blood! And raspberry juice.”

Charles still looks horrified, glancing between the borrower and the rattlesnake. He does note that the blood seems to be coming from a deep wound on its head, right between its vacant eyes. 

“You… killed it?” He gathers himself on his knees and leans forward, gingerly prodding the lifeless body. 

“It tried to kill me first,” they say, sounding almost indignant. “Kinda lucky, though. I haven’t taken down a rattlesnake in a while. I can use it’s fangs and its venom.” 

Charles lifts the carcass from the ground, testing its weight in his hands. His eyebrows shoot up at its heft. When he stands with its head at eye-level, its rattle-tipped tail still touches the ground. 

It’s a big fucking snake. 

“You… killed this monster?” He can’t hide the disbelief––or perhaps it’s awe––in his eyes as he looks back down to Devin.

They huff back up at him, trying not to take offense. “Yeah. I did,” they say, arms crossed over their chest. Charles waves his free hand. 

“I don’t––I don’t mean to doubt you Miss––er, Devin. Sorry, I’m just… impressed.” Impressed would be an understatement. 

Devin rolls their eyes. They adjust their bag and their knife, then trudge on towards Charles. Before they can ask him to, he stoops down and lowers a hand for them to climb onto. Once he has them at his level, Charles can see their annoyance clear as day. 

“I tell you––both you and Arthur, you need to understand that I’m not helpless. I’ve lived my whole life out here. Half of it’s been alone. So spare me your patronizing looks and comments.” There’s venom in their eyes, in their words, as present as that in the venom in the snake’s fangs. 

Charles has no hand free to hold up, but he does dip his head apologetically. “You’re right. I admit, I underestimated you. And I’m sorry for it. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and it’s a learning process.” 

Devin’s features soften a little. They sigh and run a hand through their blood-slicked hair. It’s gross, but it’s not the first time they’ve been covered in blood. It won’t be the last time either. 

“I like you, Charles. A lot. It’s a learning process for me too.” They offer him a half smile, though it does look a bit daunting with their red visage. “I think I’m ready to go home now.” 

The man grimaces. “Think you want to… wash off first? Arthur is going to have a fit if he sees you like this.” 

Devin looks down to themself, returning the grimace. “...yeah, probably. What I can, at least.” The blood wasn’t going to come out of their clothes without any soap, but they could wash their skin and hair off. Maybe they could hide their outerwear from Arthur, too. They had their underclothing on that wouldn’t show bloodstains. 

Rattlesnake draped around his neck, Charles carries the borrower down to the creek and crouches at the bank. He brings his hands down for them to hop off and clean themself off. When they start stripping their outerwear, he turns his head to give them some privacy, and waits for them to draw his attention again when they’re done. Damp, but cleaner, and left in their long underclothes, Devin climbs back into Charles’ hands and scurries up to his shoulder, right next to the snake carcass. 

“You good?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” they say. They give his shoulder a pat. 

Charles stands, still a bit awkward with his passenger, but less so than before. “Pearson is gonna love this snake,” he says, tongue in cheek.

Devin bristles and glares daggers at the man. “This snake is my prize. That man is getting none of it. You can have some of it if you want, since you’re carrying it home, but I’m not sharing it with anyone else.” There’s that venom again.

Charles snorts. He pulls himself into his saddle and spurs his horse, gently pushing her to start trotting. “Right. Of course. My apologies, Devin.” 

[babyloposts]

RoseBud

My Hero Academia Gang AU

Pairing(s): Sero Hanta x fem!reader

Warnings: language, drug use, explicit content, sexual themes, gang imagery, violence

Summary: a simple crush on a guy quickly turns south as you become wrapped up in an unsafe life of lies, drugs, and violence. What happens when you become a key player in a war between to rival gangs and have to deal with a complicated love life all at the same time.

—————————————————

0.4

The tattoo shop was small and almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for the glowing neon sign in the window that read “Fuck Off!”. That sure is welcoming. Sero glanced at you, his signature smirk plastered on his face as you approached the shop.

“Tattoo shop?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Figured you should get something you like, and will remember.” Sero chuckled and continued his walk to the back of the shop. It was cozy and surprisingly quiet. Not much business tonight even though it was the start of the weekend. You weren’t complaining though, it’d be nice to get some alone time with Sero.

You both neared a back room that was separated from the rest of the shop by beads that hung from the door frame.

“Is... anybody here?” You asked your guide hesitantly. He smiled at you and winked before going to another door behind the partition and banging on it hard.

“JESUS FUCKING-” You heard a voice yell from behind the door. Startled by the abrupt opening of the door, you stepped back a bit as a pink head popped from behind the wooden door. “Bakugou I swear if-” She began, but was cut off when she saw Sero’s smiling face.

“Not Bakugou. Better.” He chided and she came fully out of the back room. You were able to take in her appearance fully. She had short pink hair pulled up into a messy bun displaying her overgrown undercut. She was wearing a low cut tank top that showed off the top of her lace bra and tattoos that littered her skin underneath. And she was clothed from waist down in comfy oversized sweatpants and Nike slides. Lowkey she had looked like she just woke up or something, but her striking features and pierced skin was a beautiful contrast.

“Hanta? The fuck you doing here without the Creep Squad?” She laughed and pulled him in for a quick hug.

“‘Sup Hatsume. And it’s just me today. I was reprieved from my duties a bit early and decided to stop by. I hope I’m not, uh, bothering you?” He looked her up and down and she placed her hands on her hips and smirked.

“Never. Out of all of the hoodlums I deal with you’re probably my favorite. Well, aside from Izu~” she gushed before finally turning her attention towards you, giving you a once over. “And who’s this?”

“This is y/n. She wants to get a tattoo so I thought I’d bring her to the best damn tattoo artist I know.”

“Hanta please. Don’t flatter me. Especially before you tell me what you want.” Her gaze suddenly turned cold and was staring daggers into the tall man. He put his hands up in protest.

“I promise it’s nothing out of the ordinary, usual stuff. But really, she wants to get inked. You free?”

Mei sighed. “Of course I’m free.” She threw her hands up in the air and stomped off toward the main area of the shop leaving you and Sero a few paces behind her.

“I know how she seems, but don’t worry. I trust Hatsume to do all of my ink even though she is a bit... theatrical. Second only to Mina of course.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah it must be the pink hair or something.” You quip as you make your way to the main area where Mei is already putting on some gloves and prepping her work station.

“So do you know what you want to get done?” Mei raises her brow at you questioningly. In all honesty you hadn’t thought about it. You never explicitly told Sero that you wanted to get a tattoo. He just volunteered you for it, but you weren’t gonna decline. It would be nice to get some ink that you could look at and love.

“I don’t know. I’m still kind of deciding.” You chuckled nervously, embarrassed at the fact that you didn’t have an answer for her. This seemed to annoy Hatsume more than she already was, but she didn’t let it show in her voice.

“Okay...” she trailed off and swiveled in her chair to reach for a photo album tucked beneath her work station. It looked like it had started collecting dust. “Well you can look through my portfolio, let me know if you see something you like. Or you can suggest something and I can freehand.” She smirked suggestively. You hoped that freehand didn’t mean she would do anything obscene.

You flipped through the book looking closely at some of the designs. Hatsume’s work was beautiful, but that was evident from seeing Sero’s tattoos. The designs were all nice, but none of them really spoke to you. You sighed quietly under your breath and paused on a page that had some flower designs on it. Your breath hitched as you felt a presence over your shoulder. Sero was behind you looking at the flower on the page you had stopped on.

“That’s nice.” He smiled, “it wouldn’t suit you though. Roses are definitely your flower.” He suggested and went to sit down at the waiting area towards the front of the shop.

Roses you thought. You already had a rose tattoo, and it’s not like you didn’t like it, but you wish you hadn’t gotten it when you did. Maybe if you got another one now, you could start to appreciate the flower as you once did.

“A rose?” Hatsume smirked at you. “Very romantic flower. I think it’d suit you.” She looked hopeful and you nodded. She smiled to herself and began to sketch out an idea.

“Ooh!” She squealed. “And I have the perfect idea. Do you know where you want your tattoo to go?” You shook your head solemnly. Again, you hadn’t really thought about it. You thought Hatsume would have been annoyed, but she looked ecstatic. “Perfect I know just the place. I’ve always wanted to do a cutesy underboob tattoo.”

Underboob? That seemed a little out of your comfort zone, but to be fair this whole situation was out of your comfort zone. You out with a guy? Unheard of to the masses.

Reluctantly you agreed and Hatsume took you back behind the beaded-off area.

“You can take your top off back here and go in that room. I’ll go get my stuff, okay?” She happily skipped back out to retrieve her tattoo gun and you followed her instructions to strip.

The room was small and the warm toned walls were barren yet inviting. You got up on the table that you vaguely remember laying on a few years back and positioned yourself so Mei had easy access to stick you.

Hatsume barged into the small room, startling you. Quickly you scrambled to use your hands to cover yourself, but clearly she had already seen.

“Girl, don’t be shy. Just think of me as your doctor. It’s a no judgement zone in here.” She reassured you and you calmed down from the mini heart attack you just had. “Plus your boobs are super nice. My A Cups could never.” She whined eliciting a laugh from you. Hatsume turned out to be pretty cool.

Once she was all set up and you were numb and had the design was applied your anxiety was quelled by the overwhelming feeling of pain that you almost forgot.

“Damn I forgot how much this shit hurt.” You laughed in an effort to not tear up. “Makes sense that I was black out drunk the last time.” Hatsume laughed as she continued the process trying to be as gentle as she possibly could (not much change was made, but it’s the thought that counts).

Hatsume had begun the finishing touches and clean up details when you started to hear a bit of commotion outside. You could hear two distinct voices aside from Sero’s coming from the front of the store. It sounded like yelling and it quickly approached you. Hatsume seemed unbothered by it until an angry figure popped its head into the doorway of the “private” room.

“Hatsume!” A buff blond guy yelled as he entered. It took everything in Mei to not accidentally stick you with the gun.

“Bakugou what the fuck!?” Hatsume yelled and whipped her head around. “Do you not understand the concept of a private room?”

“Hatsume I’m not in the mood. I just spent the last half hour getting yelled at for Sero up and leaving without telling anyone and I have to do his little chores now. So give me what Hawks wants so I can get the fuck out of here.” The blond man rants and raves all the while you’re just kind of sitting there trying to cover your tits from the glaring eyes of the crabby intruder.

When his gaze met yours his eyes went wide. You didn’t know what he was expecting to find Hatsume doing back here, but tattooing a half naked girl probably wasn’t it. His eyes snapped back to Hatsume and the malicious glare came back as if he wasn’t phased at all.

“Don’t come in here fucking yelling at me to get you something. One I’m with a client and two I’m doing Hawks favor with all this so don’t demand shit from me. You’ll get it when I’m done.” She seethed, her words laced with venom. She was clearly not a fan of Blondie over here.

At the commotion you heard another set of footsteps approaching quickly. Just great.

“Bakugou calm down.” A taller redhead popped into your view trying to get the angry man from berating the woman who was supposed to be dressing your wound. When he made eye contact with you his whole face lit up red as hell and he quickly turned away to spare you whatever dignity you had left. “Uh... j-just let her finish man.”

“No fucking way. I wasn’t even supposed to be working today, but fucking IcyHot bailed and I just had to chase Tape Face around the whole fucking world. I’m ready to get my shit and go.”

“You do know that this is my business, right? I have an obligation to my clients. Not Hawks, you, or any other goons that try and threaten me. So you will wait.” Hatsume seethed. This set Bakugou off. His large hand came down to grip Mei’s upper arm and pull her in close. His eyes spoke only violence and Hatsume’s an intense fear. This guy was not to be played with. If he was this bad you couldn’t imagine what this Hawks guy was like.

Bakugou was fixing his mouth to spew out another threat, but before he could finish you were already interjecting. “I can wait!” You catch everyone’s attention again; although rather embarrassing.

“What?” Bakugou glares now at you, his stare burning into your skin.

“I said I can wait. Go ahead and do what you need to do Hatsume. No need to cause trouble.” Hatsume’s eyes soften and she shakes out of Bakugou’s death grip.

“Fine.” She sighs and stalks off to the back room she had started in earlier that night. “Bring the car around back. I got everything ready for you.”

Bakugou nodded and he and Red exited out the way they had came in.

Finally you felt like you could breath again. There were no longer so many eyes on you and the tension within the room finally dissipated. This definitely wasn’t how you expected your first date with Sero to go.

A/N: I’m backkk. Had a bit of writers block and I was away visiting family last weekend but I had a free day today and got lots of good ideas about the story while writing this. So yeah ALSO I know in the show Hatsume has big boobs, but everyone has big boobs in My Hero so lemme change it up a bit 😩😩 anyways I hope you guys enjoyed and uploads should start becoming more frequent (I hope :))

previous|next

Masterlist

[ryosei-hime]

Date Night

Continuation of Personal Space. Husk spends the day getting ready for his date with Angel and the rest of the night being a mess. Can also be found over on AO3.

Husk groaned as he rolled off the sofa in the foyer, bottles clattering as he disturbed them. He dragged a paw down his face before a huge yawn escaped. A sound of agony followed as he stretched his back, every vertebrae popping and shifting. That damn thing was not meant for sleeping on. A feather floated down to the floor and he followed it’s trajectory back to the sofa to find more littering the cushions. Oh, great, molting. That’s what he needed.

He checked his phone for the time and saw a message from Angel. It was a picture of him splayed out on the sofa with his mouth open, a bottle clutched in one hand, and a leg over the back. He’d captioned it “Sleeping Beauty” followed by one of those winking kissy faces. 

Husk rolled his eyes as he picked himself up off the ground. If he found that damn thing on his social media, he’d kill him. Nobody had any damn privacy anymore. He texted back a threat and searched around his empties for any remnants - hair of the dog and all - until a static-filled voice interrupted him.

“Good afternoon, Husker.”

“Yeah, what’d you want?” 

“Simply passing through, my friend.”

Husk’s lip curled. Every time Alastor called him friend it caused a visceral reaction. Fuckin asshole. He’d rather the fucker just treat their relationship as it was instead of trying to paint a polite picture. You could put lipstick on a pig but it was still a fuckin pig. 

“But good luck on your little date tonight.”

Alastor’s smile turned sharper and his eyes more sinister. God dammit, Angel. Couldn’t he keep his fuckin mouth shut? Husk just gave Alastor the finger as he moved on with his day. He checked to make sure Angel hadn’t blabbed about this anywhere else. But it must have just been good old fashioned word of mouth.

Actually, he’d barely posted at all today which was weird for Angel. Probably knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he did. Husk sighed and dragged himself to his room. He had a few hours to get himself together enough for this. Plenty of time to go over everything that would go wrong in minute detail.

It was Nifty who helped him get ready. Of course, she knew, too. Whole damn hotel knew. She insisted on helping him get dressed up in an old suit and tie. He didn’t see the need to bother. Wasn’t like he wore clothes regularly and they wouldn’t be on him long.

But it made Nifty happy to get him ready, giving him advice so fast he couldn’t take half of it in even if he’d wanted to. He smiled at her as she fixed his tie and stood back with her hands on her hips.

“You look great! Angel’s gonna love it. I’m so excited for you!” 

“At least someone is,” Husk muttered, resisting the urge to loosen the tie a bit. 

“Aren’t you excited?” 

“Ah, I’m no good at this stuff. You know that.” 

“Don’t worry! Just let Angel help you. He’s great at it.” She started dusting Husk’s own fur off his suit as it shed, her efforts only making it worse. “And he really likes you!”

“Yeah, I know,” Husk replied. “Thanks Nifty.”

Nifty gave him a big hug and he returned it gently. Her slight frame made him extra careful with her. 

“I have to get back to cleaning, but I hope you enjoy your date!” 

“Yeah. I’ll try.” 

He raised a hand in a slight wave as she hurried off. He decided to spend the rest of the day waiting for Angel at the bar. That turned out to be a mistake. Everyone had something to say. They wished him luck. They cooed and sighed like it was some big fuckin show. Their words were supportive but somehow they only made Husk more nervous, maybe even a little bitter. This shit seemed so easy for everyone else. 

It had been easy for him once, too.

Eventually the foyer emptied out as it got late. Husk knew Angel would be returning for him any minute. He finally had to loosen the tie around his neck and decided to fix himself a drink to calm his nerves, but just as he reached under the bar, the doors opened. 

His wings lifted slightly as Angel made his entrance. Husk wasn’t the only one who’d gotten dressed up. Angel’d gotten his hair done or some kind of extensions or something. Fuck if Husk knew. He wore a strapless pink number, the skirt covered with some kinda fake flower and vine decorations. Looked like it was supposed to be a train, but he was too tall for it to do much but brush the floor as he approached. Husk actually thought he looked beautiful all dolled up like that. Maybe he should tell him. Instead, what came out of his mouth was: 

“What’re we going to the fuckin prom?” 

“I dunno. Will you be doin’ my taxes when we’re done?” Angel shot back with a grin. 

He reached across the bar and fixed his tie. Dammit, he’d choke to death before he got through this night. Angel didn’t release his tie right away. He used it to pull him closer for a quick kiss. 

“Ready?”

No.

“Yeah, sure.” 

Husk came out from behind the bar and let Angel take his arm. He had no idea where they were going, but he just let Angel take the lead. Like Nifty had said, he was good at this. When they arrived at their destination, Husk was a little grateful she’d insisted on dressing him up. Angel had chosen some high end, classy joint. 

They got a lot of stares on the way to their table. He knew Angel was the center of attention wherever he went, but he didn’t like being caught in the crossfire of all those lustful gazes. A growl sounded low in his chest before he could stop it, his teeth bared. The stares become a little less overt.

Angel put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t scare my fans, Husk. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not. People need to mind their own fuckin business.”

Without thinking about it, Husk pulled a chair out for Angel. At least he remembered something from the old days.

“Whatta gentleman,” Angel joked, batting his lashes at him as he sat. 

Husk gave his chair a rough shove up to the table, taking his own with a grumble. When he looked up, Angel had his chin on his hands, fingers laced to make a cradle, staring at him with such a soft look it took Husk’s breath away. He made himself busy with the menu. As the waiter approached, Angel sat up suddenly.

“Oh, I forgot. This place is Italian. Like Italian Italian. But I can order for ya, if ya want.” 

Angel looked quite proud of himself and Husk hated to burst his bubble. 

“I got it.”

He gave the waiter his order in perfect Italian and looked back to Angel as the waiter turned to him. Angel stared at him in shock for a moment before stumbling through his own order. He waited until the waiter had disappeared before going off.

“You know Italian? Holy shit, Husk! I been dirty talkin ya all this time at the bar and you knew?!”

Husk hid his smirk behind his menu, trying not to laugh. Angel pushed it away and stared him down, motioning with two fingers between them.

“You look at me, look at me!” 

Husk looked up, still grinning. Angel’s face had gone stern, and he held his gaze for a moment before simply uttering,

“You bastard.” 

Husk let himself laugh a little and teased him. 

“You get real creative when you’re drunk, you know that?”  

Angel just smirked and crossed his second set of arms while another hand brought a glass of wine up to his cheek.

“Well, I guess you know what you got to look forward to then, donchya?”

The conversation during dinner remained light-hearted and Angel kept reaching out for Husk’s paw, making eyes at him. He avoided making direct eye contact, insides churning every time Angel tried. Once their plates were taken away, Angel stood and held a hand out to him.

“Can I get a dance before we go?” 

Husk felt a little more confident as he put a paw in his hand. Dancing was something he knew he could do at least. He smiled back at him.

“Sure.” 

He let Angel draw him out onto the dance floor and pull him into a waltzing position. His extra hands found a place to rest on Husk’s hips as they began to move. Angel took the lead, but Husk had expected as much with the height difference. He wouldn’t let Angel know, but he was surprised he knew how to waltz. It seemed a bit old-fashioned for him. Or at least for how he tended to present himself. It was easy to forget he was from an older era than he was.

“Thank you.”

Husk looked up and felt all the air rush out of his lungs again. Angel gazed down at him with such a genuine look of gratitude. If he didn’t stop stealing his breath, he’d never make it through this night.

“A bet’s a bet,” he repeated.

“You didn’t have to go on a date with me, but ya did. I really appreciate that. It’s nice.” 

Husk closed their stance and pressed his forehead against Angel’s shoulder in response. Angel’s secondary arms held him close, his other hands sliding softly over his shoulders and down his arms. Husk turned his face in towards Angel’s neck instinctually. Everything felt so warm and comforting in this moment. Husk had to say something to break the spell before he started purring and embarrassed himself.

“You’re payin’ right? Cause I can’t afford this shit on my salary.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchya, babe,” Angel replied. “The least I can do is buy ya dinner first.”

Husk pulled back and a hand found his cheek as Angel leaned down to kiss him softly. Then again, a bit harder, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. Husk had to close his, but his paws slid up Angel’s back to grip his shoulders as he reciprocated. Angel broke the kiss and lowered his lips to Husk’s ear, brushing over the hairs at the tip for a moment, sending a thrill through his whole body. 

“Let’s get outta here.”

Husk just nodded his agreement as Angel moved towards the table to pay, his hand sliding off Husk’s shoulder as he went. Husk loosened his tie as he focused on breathing. Fuck. This was happening. Shit. Fuck. As he panicked, a feather slowly floated to the floor then another. Oh, fan-fucking-tastic! This shit!

He stepped on the feathers to hide them as Angel returned, trying to keep a neutral expression. He probably wouldn’t have noticed the feathers anyways. He had his eyes locked onto Husk’s as he reached for his arm again. A devious light there had chased away the tenderness that had been prevalent the rest of the night, letting Husk know Angel’d fully shifted gears. 

Thankfully when they returned to the hotel it wasn’t to some kind of fuckin fanfare. He’d half expected some kind of congratulatory party, the way people acted around here. But the foyer was as empty as it usually was this time of night. Just the two of them as it so often was. Angel stopped by the bar and released his arm. 

“Okay, gimme ten to slip into somethin more comfortable,” Angel said with a joking tone. “Then meet me in my room.” 

He made a show of walking away, swinging his hips and looking back at Husk over his shoulder before disappearing down the corridor. Husk just stood there calmly until he was out of sight. Once alone, he threw himself abruptly over the bar, gasping in air like a drowning man. He sent bottles clattering to the floor as he fished around for a drink. He leaned back against the bar and sank to the ground as he chugged whatever booze he’d managed to grab. The chugging became less frantic after a moment and he started to breathe again. Thank fucking god for alcohol. 

“You did this to yourself, asshole,” he muttered under his breath. 

He watched the clock as it ticked away the seconds he had to get himself together. He finally did away with his tie entirely and ran a paw over his head. Okay, this wasn’t such a big deal. God, it wasn’t like he didn’t find Angel attractive. And this would make him happy. 

All of Husk’s limbs went limp and his head banged back against the bar. Dammit, he wanted him to be happy. How had he let this happen? He sighed and let the empty bottle roll out of his grasp before picking himself up off the floor. 

He trudged down the hall to Angel’s room, leaving a sparse trail of feathers in his wake, and gave a light rap on the door before pushing it open. The lights were low and tinged pink from the scarves draped over the shades. Angel had tossed rose petals around the room wildly. He followed their general trail over to the bed where Angel was, of course, poised seductively. 

He’d changed out of the prom dress and into lacy black lingerie, makeup entirely redone to match. How the fuck did he do that so fast? Angel shifted forward and pushed himself off the bed, sauntering over to him the way he approached a pole at a show. He brushed the back of a hand against his cheek as he circled around behind him. All three sets of arms snaked around him, hands working at buttons and sliding under his shirt.

Husk froze as his clothes just fell around him, only brought back to motion by the shiver that went down his spine when Angel pressed soft kisses against the back of his neck. Damn, he was good. His paws rose to find the closest pair of Angel’s hands and slid over them. Angel nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck before finding his ear. 

“I’ve been waiting for this.” 

Husk turned in his arms and tried to think of something to say. All he could think of was how long it had been and how badly he was about to fuck up. He started backing away slowly, but Angel followed. 

He felt his knees buckle as he backed up into the bedframe. He fell back onto the bed and Angel leaned over him, using a pair of arms to hold himself up while the other two ran down his chest. Husk’s throat felt like it had closed up and he gasped for air. 

“W-wait.” 

[thero0ks]

A Rose From Starrick’s Garden

I debated if I should post this oneshot. It is completely self indulgent, I couldn’t pick a plot line, and well I just wanted A LOT out of one fic. It’s complete trash, but hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did. 

Also, I am aware this fic is not cannon compliant at all, but just enjoy the dumpster fire of a fic I created :) 

The research Evie had trusted her with, had lead to another dead end. Defeated, she had shuffled through the train car in search of Evie to relay the bad news. Evie's voice indicated she was in the den, but another soft voice had Y/N pressing herself against the wall. 

Shame flooded her for a second, eavesdropping was rude, but her curiosity won over in the end. A small smile played at her lips at the bashful exchange between the two. The subtle flirting had her feeling giddy inside. In her mind Evie and Henry were a match made in heaven, and she'd been watching the romance blossom between the two. 

"Spying are we?" 

That smooth voice, tickling the shell of her ear made her jump. Her cheeks flamed red at being caught. It didn't help that the person who caught her had to be Jacob Frye of all people. The smug bastard would hold this over her head for weeks to come. 

"It's not what you think…"  

She knew it was a lame excuse, and by the quirk of his brow he conveyed that it was exactly what he thought. 

"I wonder how my dear ol' sis will take it when she finds out her best friend has taken up match making?" He pressed his gauntlet against the wall as he leaned close to her. "And when she finds out she's the main target."

The complete arrogance he conveyed had her shrinking against the wall. He was aware that he was in complete control of the conversation, and it amused him to no end to watch her squirm. 

"There aren't two people more perfect for each other…" She dared a glance up at him. Her statement seemed to briefly catch him off guard. He straightened, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. His next words were muttered under his breath. If her hearing wasn't so keen she would have missed it. 

"I can think of two people more deserving."

Before she could inquire further he had already made his presence known in the next room. Y/N could already feel the tension in the next room grow. Evie's obvious annoyance at her younger twin interrupting a shared moment with Henry.

"Careful Greenie, my sister seems to be having another fit again." 

"A fit you say?" 

Y/N made her way into the room to find Evie ready to explode. 

"You nearly wrecked England's economy!" She cried.

"Nearly Evie, key word." He said lounging on the sofa. 

"Nearly? If fath-" Y/N was quick to intercede. 

"Jacob was just about to brief me on a party Starrick will be attending." She said shooting a pointed glance at Jacob. 

Mirth danced in his eyes at the sight of Evie being worked up once again by his antics. "Yes, I was. A party your dear friend offered to go to in your place." 

Evie's shoulders relaxed a bit, "no rib crushing contraption for me then?" 

"Precisely." Y/N said with a nod. "Starrick is unaware of my involvement with the brotherhood, so it is possible that I may be able to glean some information from him."

Evie's eyes ran over her figure a moment, "with a bit of cleaning up I suppose you're exactly the type of woman Starrick would take an interest in."

"Yes, but how far are you willing to go for information?" Henry asked thoughtfully. "The most you could carry is a knife, which you would only have access to if you were…" Henry coughed, rubbing a hand up his neck. 

"I believe the word you're looking for is undressed Henry." Jacob chimed in. His voice was taut as he shifted into a sitting position on the couch. "Which at that point Starrick will put two and two together, and her throat will be slit faster than either of us can blink." 

"Then I'll go unarmed." Y/N said simply. 

"You expect us to let you walk in there unarmed and alone, right into Starricks arms?" Jacob inquired.

"I think the plan is bloody brilliant!" Evie said excitedly. "Think about it, if he decides he likes you he may start inviting you to other places as well." 

"A double agent infiltrating Templar ranks?" Henry interrupted, catching onto Evie's plan.

Jacob scoffed, "do you even realize what you're asking?" He said standing up, "you're asking your best friend to not only court the Templar Grandmaster, but warm his bed as well?" He cried, exasperated at Evie's schemes. "He could break her neck like a twig if he got the slightest hint that she's an assassin."

Evie rolled her eyes, "don't act like Y/N can't protect herself. She's a trained killer." 

"So is Starrick!" Jacob cried, throwing his hands up. "When she's caught in a Templar den, surrounded by a bunch of highly trained Templars her odds of survival drop to zero!"

"Oh just admit it Jacob, you can't stand the thought of another man touching her." Evie said brushing him off. 

Jacob froze, and Evie's shoulder's stiffened the moment she realized what she had said. "Jake, I didn't mean...it slipped." She said softly, as if she were trying to approach a startled deer. 

Jacob brushed past her, slamming the car door behind him. Y/N's jaw had gone slack as her eyes darted between Henry and Evie. 

Evie looked shameful, her hand covering her mouth as she sat down at the desk. She was still in shock over the secret she'd accidentally let slip.

"Evie..." Y/N began.

"You should get ready for the party." Evie's voice sounded hollow. "We've been waiting to infiltrate the Templars ranks for years. We can't waste this opportunity." Evie's crystal gaze seemed miles away. 

Y/N's eyes darted between Evie and Henry. He only offered her a shrug, as if this was another feud between the Fryes he'd rather not get involved in. With a sigh she left the two to scheme up their next plan. 

She could expect very little help from Evie with getting ready, which left her with only one option. Find a Rook willing to stuff her into a gown. 

She was lucky enough to find a few female Rooks occupying the bar car who agreed to assist.

White knuckles gripped the table as the lacings were pulled tight. "How tight do you want it ma'am?"

"As tight as it'll go." She gritted. She had concluded that Starrick's suspicions would be laid to rest if she appeared overtly vain. No assassin would dare to waltz into a ball in a contraption they couldn't breath in...right? 

The deep red satin skirt hung heavy on her hips, and the shoulder sleeves left her feeling bare and exposed. After inspecting her reflection in the mirror she concluded that she could appeal to any man with minimal effort. "I"ll be right surprised if Mr. Starrick leaves your side at all tonight." One of the Rooks concluded. 

Y/N offered her a kind smile, "thank you Emma." 

She grabbed the shawl wrapping it around her shoulders before making her way off the train. She was able to exit at (train station). Her next objective was to find a carriage.

•

••

•

Jacob watched the swish of a red dress disappearing into a carriage. A frown pulled at his lips. It was just like Evie to get her way. The mission was the only thing that mattered to her. When he had returned to the train car to plead his case once more she had quoted their father at him, "don't let personal feelings compromise the mission."

It had mattered very little that the mission involved her best friend. She could be extremely shrewd at times, and there was little he could do or say that would change her mind. 

The carriage was easy to catch. In a flash he'd opened the door and seated himself across from her. A look of shock was plain on her face, and a bit of fear once she realized she was unarmed. A scowl quickly appeared on her face as soon as she recognized him. "Jacob Frye! How dare you scare me like that!" She hissed slapping him with her fan. 

"Oi, I was only checking in love." He said, and a blush dusted her cheeks at the word "love." The unresolved tension from earlier hung in the air. 

Y/N was the first to look away, giving Jacob the chance to take her in. She was stunning. The dress complimented her soft skin, and the low neckline of the dress created a beautiful decolletage. He'd never seen so much skin on the assassin, and greedily his eyes hungered for more. He had to avert his hazel eyes, "you won't have any issues catching Starrick's eye in that."

(E/c) eyes flickered down at the ensemble. "Evie will be thrilled." She muttered. 

Jacob leaned forward capturing her chin in his hand tilting her gaze up into his hazel pools. "I'll be on the rooftops, if there are any issues signal me and I'll get you out of there." 

To his surprise she threw her arms around him engulfing him in a hug. "Thank you Jacob." She pulled away quickly, "perhaps I'm more nervous than I thought." 

Jacob quirked a smile, "I'll be there if you need me love." With a soft kiss to the back of her hand, he disappeared out of the carriage and into the night. 

•

••

•

She steadied her breathing as the carriage pulled up to the stone mansion. The carriage driver assisted her out the carriage. Her sides were already aching as she made her way up the steps of the house. She fanned herself in hopes that it would draw more oxygen into her lungs, but it was no use. Many eyes were drawn her way when she stepped into the gardens. Satisfaction grew inside when she noticed even the Grandmaster had paused mid sentence to stare. She threw him a small smirk before heading towards the dance floor.

The bait was laid, and all she had to do was wait for him to bite. Her eyes were about to dart to the rooftops when she felt a hand press into the small of her back. "I don't believe I have made your acquaintance."

His voice was elegant, and refined. One would suppose it was due to good breeding, and coming from a proper upbringing. "I very much doubt it Sir, I just arrived in London not three days ago." She turned to face him, but found herself even closer to him as he guided her closer with his hands. 

"Dance with me." It wasn't a request, he was a man who was used to being in control.

"I take it you always get your way?" She inquired as he lead her to the center of the dance floor.

"I'm a man who knows what he wants, and you look like a woman who knows what she wants."

Her lips quirked up, "I confess my strong will has lead me into trouble at times."

"A rose among the weeds, beautiful to look at, but painful for those who cannot handle the thorns." His palm felt solid on her waist, and she caught his eyes drinking in her figure that was on display. 

"Have you handled many roses then?" 

She found herself chest to chest with him. His eyes were hypnotic, and his body radiated power and control. A shiver went down her spine as his fingers trailed up her back. "Never one so sweet."

His lips were dangerously close, and propriety was insisting she pull away. She was unsure if it was the corset making her pant, or her heart that pounded dangerously inside her chest. 

A smoke bomb went off, and the shuffling of feet could be heard. She felt hands pulling her from behind. Crawford's arms felt like a steel cage as they tightened around her. She was being pulled in both directions. "Let go of her." That snarl could only belong to one man. 

"This has made the game more interesting Jacob." The smoke had started to clear and Starrick's expression was predatory. Cold steel pressed against her throat, and Jacob immediately froze. "What would Jacob Frye do to save a rose?"

"Let her go, this is between you and me Starrick." 

Starrick touted, "I suspect she is an assassin. More's the pity,  she would have looked absolutely divine spread across my desk." Gloved fingers tightened around her esophagus. She fought desperately to pry his fingers off. "I wish this had been under more sensual circumstances." His low voice tickled the shell of her ear.

Panic flooded Jacob's eyes, until a lucky blow found its mark. Y/N could feel the hard impact of bone against her elbow. It was enough for him to loosen his grip. Jacob sprung to action pulling her to him and grappling to the nearest rooftop. He took off across the rooftops. Y/N doing her best to find any speed quicker than a brisk walk. Jacob realizing she wasn't close behind, stopped to find her picking her way across the roof. "Why did you lace that thing so bloody tight?!" He cried.

"Why did you decide to ruin the mission?!" She countered. 

"I rescued you from that man's skeevy arms!" 

A roll of her (e/c) eyes was all she replied, "just find us a carriage. I can't run in this!"

Jacob was quick to zipline them to the ground. He found a small carriage and unceremoniously stuffed her in. She hadn't even seated herself when the carriage jolted forward, throwing her into the leather seat. "Can this thing go any faster?" She cried finding several blighters on their tail. 

"I'm sorry your highness, did you want to drive?" Jacob quipped back. 

A gunshot echoed behind them. "Glad to know I got dressed up for my funeral." She shouted angrily.

"Oh, Y/N I've been in worse spats than this. We are perfectly fine." He said simply. It wasn't a second later when another carriage slammed into the left side of theirs. Y/N wished she hadn't gazed out the window. It all seemed to happen too quickly. Jacob had taken a sharp turn onto the bridge when the blighter carriage had slammed into theirs. The world was upside down a moment, and Y/N knew she was headed right for the Thames. 

Jacob had been thrown out of his seat when the carriage tipped over. He braced himself for the cold water. When he surfaced he found the carriage slipping below the water's surface. It was then that it dawned on him that Y/N would be stuck. He dove under searching blindly for the carriage. The murky Thames making visibility poor. He found a window and began to smash through it. He pulled her body through the window, but found the dress was stuck. His hidden blade set to work shredding any material he could get his hands on. When the dress finally loosened, he pulled her free and pulled them up to the surface.

The shore wasn't far and she was barely breathing. As soon as they reached shore he cut the lacings. She coughed up water, gulps full of air burning her lungs. She was freezing, and the white shift sticking to her skin made her realize how exposed she was. "J-j-j-a-a-cob Fr-r-rye," her teeth clattered as shivers wracked her body. 

"Shh love," he said softly as his eyes ran down her, inspecting her for any damage. Self consciously she covered her chest. The shift was extremely see-through while wet, and she was mortified the younger Frye twin had practically seen everything at this point. To her surprise there was no trace of smugness in his eyes. Only concern, and possible guilt. 

"Let's get you back to the train before you freeze." He said simply. 

"I cant walk around London like this." She said gazing down at her stockings that were caked with sand.

Jacob looked her up and down, "I think this is the best you've looked yet." Hazel eyes flickered down at sopping linen that was barely hanging onto her body. 

"My eyes are up here Mr. Frye." She dead panned. She immediately got to her feet. "Well I suppose if I'm to be a trollop, I shall be the best trollop London has ever seen." She set off towards the train tracks, shoulders back and head held high.

Jacob's head cocked to the side, how he loved a woman with spunk. However, he was just starting to realize just how see through that shift was. If there was anything Jacob Frye considered himself to be, a gentleman was one of them. He was quick to remove his over coat and soon engulfed her in it. A shiver ran down her spine when the dripping coat hit her shoulders. He scooped her up in his arms, and he was surprised to find out how light she was in his arms. "Jacob!" She squeaked in surprise. 

"Now come love, a gentleman wouldn't let a lady stroll about the streets in her undergarments."

"A gentleman wouldn't have made me go for a swim either." She grumbled. 

His chest rumbled with a chuckle. "I am taking you for a moonlight stroll, and what's more romantic than that?" He inquired. "All in all, I would say this was a successful date." 

She sputtered, "a successful date?" 

"Fancy clothes, a carriage ride, an evening swim, a moonlit stroll, and you're almost completely naked. What more could I have done to make it a success?" 

A blush stained her cheeks, "pray, what gave you the notion that we are on a date?" 

A smirk spread across his lips, "you never denied that we were on a date, besides there are some positively wicked things I've wanted to do to you all evening."

"I think this whole night started, because your jealousy got the best of you Jacob." 

His grip tightened on her, "what do I have to be jealous about love? My hands are the ones touching your arse not Starrick's." His breath tickled her ear as it lowered an octave, "and what a lovely arse it is." 

"Why haven't you said anything?" Her voice sounded small. Unsure if this was a conversation the two should have. 

He sighed, "I never thought you'd give a bloke like me a second glance." He said with a simple shrug. 

"Jacob, you literally stuffed me ass first into a carriage, then proceeded to wreck said carriage in the Thames. I should be pissed, but honestly it's a little endearing. I know you mean well." Her hand came up to cup his face, and a small blush appeared on his cheeks.

"What in the bloody hell did you do Jacob?" Evie's voice snapped the two at attention. 

"The mission was a success Evie!" Jacob said with a grin. 

"Starrick’s men are all over London looking for you two! You wrecked a carriage off the bridge, and Y/N where on earth are your clothes?" 

"The bottom of the Thames…" she said sheepishly. 

"The mission was an utter disaster!" Evie cried. 

"That is where you are wrong. Your mission was a disaster, mine was an utter success." Jacob said proudly. "Now if you don't mind dear sis, I would recommend staying far away from my train car for the rest of the evening." He leaned closer to his sister, "I have plucked a rose from Starrick's garden that I plan to worship thoroughly."  

@marshmallow--3

[ft-dads-au]

Part of the Family

A collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

Fairy Friendship Week 2020 Prompt: Secrets Pairing(s): Sting & Gray, Gray & Rogue, Sting x Rogue

AO3 | FF.Net

Summary: With Rogue's and Aki's birthdays coming up, Mika suggests that Sting and Gray go gift shopping together. Neither of them are excited about the idea, but it ends up being just the thing to bring them all closer together.

September 9, 2020

“That’s a great idea!”

The words burst out of Sting’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

It wasn’t a great idea.

In fact, it was one of the worst ideas Sting had ever heard. He was exhausted, having just got off what was supposed to have been a twelve-hour shift in the Emergency Room that had turned out to be more like fifteen, on top of not having gotten much sleep because the twins had been fussy all night.

He smiled at his mother-in-law warmly while scrambling for any excuse he thought she might accept that would get him out of a trip to the mall with his brother-in-law, who looked about as enthused with the idea as he felt.

“Wonderful!” Mika Fullbuster practically beamed at them, “I’ll feed the boys and get dinner ready for us while you’re gone.”

She picked up his son, Kuro, and cooed at him before placing him in a high chair next to his identical twin Haku. Gray’s son, Aki, watched with interest, although he kept close to his father.

Sting knew he was screwed when Gray remained silent, examining him with that glacial expression of his. “Okay, I’ll take a quick shower then. Be back in 10.”

He could hear Mika and Gray talking in low voices, Mika reminding her son that Rogue would probably like it if he got to know Sting a little bit better.

More than anything else, it was those words that motivated Sting to get in the shower and put on his best face because he knew she was right. Rogue loved his brother, had missed him all those years they had been on the outs, and now that Gray and his parents were a part of his life again, he wanted them all to become the family he never thought he’d have.

But Gray wasn’t exactly easy to get along with, and Sting was still irritated about how he had treated Natsu on the night of Lisanna’s birthday, not to mention how he’d dismissed Rogue all those years. Still, for Rogue, he could make an effort. The cold shower didn’t wake him up as much as he’d hoped, but he knew he wouldn’t have gotten out as quickly if he’d taken a warm one. Now he wasn’t just exhausted but also freezing cold and nervous, a far cry from what he’d been looking forward to when his shift was finally over. He passed the bed on his way from the bathroom to the closet and almost sobbed at how badly he wanted to get in it. “Come on Sting, you can do this!” he encouraged himself as he grabbed something comfy to wear and got dressed. “Go to the mall, get some birthday presents, have a chat with your brother-in-law...Can’t be too hard, right?”

It was incredibly hard.

Gray hadn’t said a word since the moment they’d left the house, and Sting had no idea what to say to get a conversation going. Almost everything he knew about the guy was off-limits to talk about, so they walked around the mall quietly, occasionally entering a store that looked interesting.

“Do you think Aki would like this?” Sting grabbed a colorful book thinking it would make a good birthday present for his nephew. He pushed some of the buttons on the front to see what kinds of sounds it made.

Gray shook his head, “He doesn’t like loud noises.”

“I wish I could say the same about the twins,” Sting groaned, placing the book back on the shelf, “just about every toy they have is loud.”

“Cana?” Gray asked, mouth stretching into a small smile.

“Well, she’s not the worst offender. That would have to be my parents,” Sting chuckled, “They’ve wanted grandkids since probably before I was born.”

Gray studied him briefly before turning his attention back to the shelf full of electronic board books. He moved away from them as he discovered the hardcover storybooks.

“He does like books though, tries to memorize them and pretend he’s reading them,” Gray added with a proud smile, “He could probably use some new ones.”

Sting thought Gray had a nice smile, it reminded him of Rogue’s. It was the first time he’d seen a real resemblance between the two brothers, outside of the dry wit they shared, and it made him warm up to him a little.

"Yeah, Rogue mentioned that.” He considered his next words for a moment, ultimately deciding he trusted Gray to be the kind of person who could keep a secret. “He’s uhm...taking a break from the stuff he usually writes to work on a book of fairy tales for kids. One of his college friends is doing the illustrations.”

“He’s writing a children’s book?” Gray asked, his voice sounding softer than Sting had ever heard it outside of speaking to Aki. He appeared stunned by the news but also something else.

Was it pride?

Sting thought it might be. The twinkle in his brother-in-law’s eye made him believe he was right.

“I kind of figured he’d write one of those mystery novels he always loved so much.” “Oh, he did. Published it under a pseudo a few years back,” Sting beamed, the swell of pride overtaking his fatigue for a brief moment. “Don’t tell anyone about the children’s book, though. He wants to keep it a secret because...well, you know your mom. Just act real surprised when Aki gets it for Christmas.”

They checked out some of the books together, flipping through the pages to see if the stories were fitting for Aki's age and whether or not they would appeal to him. Soon they'd decided on a few and headed to the register.

Sting grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, staring at its contents blankly for a moment. He took a card out and waited for the cashier to finish ringing up his purchases so he could place it in the reader. Trying to hide a big yawn he couldn’t quite contain, Sting inserted the card into the bottom slot when the reader prompted him. He waited to plug in his pin, thinking about how happy he was that they had managed to get one of the presents out of the way fairly quickly.

The card reader beeped at him, a message reading Card Declined displaying on the screen, much to Sting’s confusion. There should be plenty of money in there, he’d just gotten paid. But even knowing that, he could feel his cheeks darken with embarrassment as he saw the cashier glance at him surreptitiously.

He turned to see Gray’s eyebrow arched in silent question.

“I don’t understand,” Sting protested, “I’m sure there’s more than enough in there.”

“Are you sure about that?” Gray asked, looking somewhat exasperated.

“Yeah, I got paid yesterday,” he insisted. “I’ll just rerun it. Sometimes these things are flaky.”

“I don’t think it’s the reader that’s flaky,” Gray muttered under his breath.

“Let me just see it for a moment,” the cashier offered graciously, “Sometimes, you just have to wipe the chip a bit.”

Sting shrugged, handing the card over. There was something about it that seemed off, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“I think I see the problem,” the cashier said, and although his face remained serious, Sting could hear traces of laughter in his voice. “We do not currently accept Magnolia Hospital ID Cards as a valid form of currency.”

“What?” Sting could only gape in confusion as the cashier handed him back his ID Card.

“Long day?” Gray smirked, taking Sting’s wallet from his hand and grabbing his debit card, finishing up the transaction for him.

“You have no idea,” Sting muttered, finally entering his pin into the keypad and waiting for Gray to complete his purchase, pretending not to see that his brother-in-law was still laughing at him.

“Come on,” Gray said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“Coffee.”

He led them to the nearest coffee shop, where they each ordered a drink and a snack. Spotting an empty table, they quickly sat down.

“You know, if you were this tired, you could have just said no,” Gray sighed, shaking his head at him. “Mom isn’t that scary.”

Sting looked up, and having already shoved his chocolate chip muffin in his mouth, he shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Oy, take bites!” Gray griped, snorting at the crumbly mess he was making on the table, “I bet Rogue loves that.”

Sting laughed, easily picturing the look of distaste he’d receive from his husband if he’d been present. “He knew what he was getting into. Was he always so neat and tidy as a kid too?” he asked, eager to learn some things about Rogue from before they’d met each other.

“Kind of, not as bad as he seems to be now, though,” Gray mused, “He was always serious, with a very sharp tongue, but he could be a lot of fun too.”

He stared off into space and suddenly broke out in laughter, so hard that Sting began to worry for him. It stopped as soon as it started, but the amusement continued to play on his features. “I bet there’s one thing you don’t know about him, though.”

Sting leaned forward in his seat, eyes suddenly flying right open as he was dying for him to continue.

Gray’s whole face lit up with mischief, “Did you know that right up until the moment he was born, Rogue’s middle name was Ashley?“

“Ashley?” Sting repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Yep,” Gray grinned, “Mom’s doctor insisted Rogue was a girl, something about the way she was carrying or whatever, and the ultrasound confirmed it, so we all thought he was a girl. For months my mom told me all about the new little sister I was going to have. She had Dad paint the nursery pink, coordinated all the crib sheets, bought the clothes, everything.”

“You can imagine my parents’ surprise when he was born. Everything they had was for a girl. You should ask my mom to show you his hospital pictures. They’re hilarious! My dad and I have never let him live it down,” Gray chuckled, “I still call him Ashley when I want to piss him off.”

At first, Sting was just boggled by the fact that a doctor would predict a baby's gender from the way the mother was carrying, and how, even back in the early ’90s, an ultrasound managed to support that statement. But when he imagined what those pictures would look like, not to mention Rogue’s face when he’d ask his mother-in-law about them later- which he totally would- he almost choked on his muffin from his laughter. “I should buy him some extra gifts,” he giggled, “I have a feeling I’ll need them to get in his good graces again later.”

“He had a figure skating phase too,” Gray continued, “I was a hockey nut, so I loved to tease him about it, but the truth was he was terrific. Very graceful. I was kind of surprised to see he got rid of the ice rink in the backyard. Maybe now that we’re all back, we can set it back up,” he added.

"I knew about the figure skating. He made sure to show off the first time we went skating together because I ran my big mouth but completely sucked at it."

“Well, he does love to show off.”

“I’m glad you two made up,” Sting confided, getting carried away by the moment they were sharing. “He really missed you.”

He realized too late that it had been the wrong thing to say as Gray only nodded and then went right back to being quiet, but Sting didn’t let that bother him. He’d seen a different side of his brother-in-law, and he was confident that with time they could become good friends.

They finished their coffee and shopped for birthday presents for Rogue for another hour before calling it a night. Gray drove them back to the house to let Sting rest. When they arrived, Mika had already finished cooking, and the boys were playing quietly in front of the TV.

"Wow, looks like you had a successful trip!" Mika smiled happily at the shopping bags they were carrying, "and you're right on time for dinner!"

Sting was happy to see Rogue had gotten home as well, and even more delighted when he stopped setting the table to greet him with a hug and a kiss.

"You look really tired," Rogue fretted, frowning at the mark left on Sting's cheek by the zipper of his coat when he'd fallen asleep in the car. "Go sit. I’ll plate up for you."

"You're the best-" Sting flopped down on one of the dining room chairs, watching fondly as Rogue started scooping rice onto his plate. It was a small effort, but he thought it was really sweet, and it almost made him think twice about his next words.

Almost.

"Thanks, Ashley."

Between Gray's loud snort, Mika's knowing grin, and the look of horror that started to spread across Rogue’s face, Sting could honestly say that the unexpected shopping trip, exhausting as it was, had definitely been worth it.

"You just had to tell him, didn't you?" Rogue fumed at Gray, only managing to contain his outrage for the sake of the kids.

“He’s family now, isn’t he?” Gray’s attempt to sound innocent only riled Rogue up further. “Relax, Squirt, there’s lots of stuff I didn’t tell him. Like the time you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Rogue seethed, much to everyone’s amusement, but when he looked around the room, he suddenly became skittish. "Wait…where did mom go?"

"Right here," Mika answered as she appeared from the hallway, carrying a large photo album and an even larger smile on her face. She sat down next to Sting, who knew exactly what was going to happen, as his own mother had put him through a similar skit once.

"Let's see-" she pulled a curious Aki onto her lap, completely ignoring the protests of both her sons as she started flipping through the pages.

"Look how cute your daddy used to be when he was little," she told Aki, pointing at some of the pictures of Gray when he was the same age. "He looked just like you, but he always managed to take off his clothes wherever we went."

Sting tried but failed not to laugh as he saw her finger pointing at a picture of a much younger looking Silver holding what appeared to be a bunch of children's clothes as he chased an almost naked Gray across the playground. “Dada,” Aki bubbled at the picture and the others on that page.

Meanwhile, Rogue had finished piling food onto Sting’s plate and went to put the twins back into their high chairs before they’d start protesting the fact that everyone else had left them to gather at the dining table. He finished just in time to see Mika turn the page, much to Gray’s relief and amusement, because the next set of pictures were made at the hospital. Rogue could only groan as Sting went off in what could only be described as a laughing fit at the sight of his first baby pictures, in which he was dressed in pink from socks to bonnet.

“See Gray’s face? He was actually a little disappointed when we told him he didn’t get a sister after all, “ Mika chuckled. “He was so proud of the pink frog plushie he’d picked out as a welcoming gift, and he was worried his brother wouldn’t like it.” “The opposite was true, though,” she continued, smiling at Rogue as she continued to spill more embarrassing moments from his childhood. “You had it with you all the time. The one time you lost it, you wouldn’t stop crying and refused to leave the park without it. Dad searched for half an hour in the pouring rain before he finally found it.” “He still has it,” Sting revealed, returning Rogue’s pout of betrayal with an innocent smile. “It’s sitting on a shelf in our bedroom.” “Gee, when I saw how exhausted you looked, I didn’t think I was getting screwed today. Guess I was wrong.” “Rogue!” Mika was quick to scold her son. “What? It was kid-proof.”

Gray cackled in appreciation at Rogue’s snide remark, his grin withering when his mother flashed him a disapproving glare. He coughed uncomfortably and shifted his attention back to his brother, “You still have it? I thought you’d said you lost it.”

“Don’t get full of yourself,” Rogue crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked away. “I happened to find it when I was cleaning out the basement a while back.”

Sting knew that was some high-level bs, but he let it go, enjoying the back and forth between the two brothers. Judging from the pleased expression on Mika’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

“Suuuure you did,” Gray teased, marching towards their bedroom with an air of purpose, “I’m gonna go see it.”

“Don’t you dare put your grubby hands on Frosch!” Rogue yelled, chasing after him.

“You named it Frosch?” Sting snickered, although he had to admit it sounded incredibly cute.

“Shut up!” Rogue complained, “I was little.”

“Boys!” Mika scolded, turning to Sting to explain. “Gray ended up loving Frosch just as much as Rogue. He’d sneak into Rogue’s room and take it back to his room.”

“No I didn’t!” Gray denied, “I remember stealing or hiding it just to mess with him. It was hilarious, watching him have a complete meltdown.”

Rogue stuck his tongue out at his brother, acting more childish than Sting had seen in a long time. It was both endearing and amusing as hell.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Bro,” Gray replied, walking over to Rogue and bravely ruffling his hair.

“Rogue wasn’t the only one having a meltdown,” Mika retorted, quietly enough that only Sting could hear her.

“Ugh, just wait until you start dating someone. I am telling them everything,” Rogue promised.

Gray laughed heartily, “Good luck with that. I have zero intention of dating anyone.”

“That’s a shame,” Sting sighed, “you and Natsu looked pretty cute slow-dancing together the other night.”

“That was not what that was,” Gray sputtered, “That was just me comforting a friend.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re friends now?” Rogue immediately pounced on Gray’s words.

“No, I-we are friendly-ish, uhm…friend adjacent? Whatever! He’s still a pain in my ass!” Gray attempted to clear things up, but at hearing that, Sting and Rogue glanced at each other and cracked up.

“Oh my God, get your minds out of the gutter, that’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

But it was too late. Sting and Rogue only laughed harder at Gray’s outrage.

“Who’s Natsu?” Mika interrupted, completely lost as to what was happening.

“Gray’s source of butthurt-” Rogue pulled out his phone and looked through his image gallery, showing his mother a picture of their friend.

“Oh, he’s cute! You should ask him out, sweetie,” Mika encouraged her older son, as Aki gave them all a tentative smile from his spot on his grandmother’s lap.

“Look what you started,” Gray glared at Sting accusingly, “Now I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Well, you said it yourself. I’m family now, aren’t I?” Sting bounced Gray’s words back at him, patting him on the back, “That’s what family’s for!”

Sting and Mika laughed at Gray’s less than enthusiastic response and Rogue’s triumphant smirk.

It was a fantastic feeling to no longer be watching from the sidelines like he usually did, but to actually take part in this moment and give as good as he got. It wasn’t something he was used to, having grown up as an only child.

And it was with a start that Sting realized that while he’d grudgingly agreed to go on the shopping trip with Gray hoping to befriend him, somehow in the last couple of hours, they’d become brothers instead.

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

the constant

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Genre: suggestive fluff

Tags: gang!au, partnersincrime!au

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, mature content... the whole works

day 15 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which you and yuta have a love/hate relationship in the way that yes, there are times you’d stop at nothing to rip his throat out... but you’d still kill anyone who’d try to kill him.

// tryin’ to be with you is crazy // (x)

--

[23:44]

Out of all the things that were supposed to happen today, you would have never expected to be at yet another lavish party, posing as Yuta’s arm candy in an effort to catch any piece of information that could help total the yakuza your group had been having trouble with for years. On top of that, nor did you expect to have his hands teasing the edges of your thin party dress up little by little, sloppy, open mouthed kisses coaxing moan after moan from your glossed lips. 

Today was supposed to be your day off. No guns, no violence, no blood, no sex, and no Yuta. Forget the perfectly tailored leather pants that hugged you in all the right ways and concealed so many dangerous gadgets, the hidden knives up your sleeves, and the eternally loaded gun always ready in your holster. Today was all about comfy sweatpants, oversized long sleeves, and all the unhealthy food you fasted from during the work week at the 127 syndicate. 

The aroma of slow baked chocolate and the tiniest hint of vanilla wafted through the air, bringing a genuinely happy smile to your watering mouth. Nothing could ruin this afternoon. And then, your phone lit up, vibrated against the wood grain of the table you sat against with a ring you wished meant something - someone - else. You stuffed a piece of brownie in your mouth before pulling the device up to your ear. 

"Where you at, baby girl?" Yuta's relaxed voice floated through the phone speakers like honey; smooth, sickeningly sweet, and so very easy to get addicted to. Yuta was cocky, he was confident. You supposed it was part of his charm as the infamous womanizer of the gang. Nevertheless, having to hear that almost every hour of every minute of the week was definitely part of the reason hearing his ring tone never hesitated to spark irritation in the very depths of your being. He continued. “Just thought I’d let you know I missed seeing your ass this morning at the 07:00 meeting.” Your lips curled back into a sneer, swallowing the rest of the brownie chunk you had just stuffed into your mouth.

"How nice of you to call in on my day off, sweet cheeks." Shoving the freshly baked plate of brownies back onto the counter, you hissed at your partner, not even bothering to cover the annoyance in your tone. "Thought you had another - what was it you rather me call them again? Oh right - another rendezvous this afternoon. 

"Oh, that’s right. I did have something planned. If I remember correctly, it was with this hot piece of multi-million dollar eye candy, Bae Joohyun. And I was looking forward to it, too. Would’ve been an easy couple thousand.” An over exaggerated sigh pushed its way out of your partner’s infuriatingly soft lips. Had the handsome blond been right beside you, a sure smirk would have appeared on his face, challenging you, taunting you. “Too bad it got cancelled. Jealous, babe?"

"Never in a million years, dickhead,” the scoff elicited a sigh from his end of the call. “Now what do you want?"

His answer was quick, sharp and you could practically see the shit-eating grin seeping into his voice.

"Jaehyun said to be back within the hour. He and ‘Yong have a thing for us to do sometime soon. And by 'sometime soon' I mean by the end of today." Good thing you had put the brownies away a few minutes ago, the news surely would have shocked you into choking on a piece of chocolate-y heaven. Your eyes widened and your back stiffened. This must have been important. Jaehyun and Taeyong never called you or any other member in on a day off unless it was imperative to the success of the crime syndicate. “Y/N? You still on?” 

"Wha- wait, Yuta, what’s going on?” Adjusting the phone so that it was in speaker mode, you quickly pulled your hair up into a sleek ponytail and ran about your studio apartment in a rush to get your work-outfit on. Pressed button down? Check. Sexy pants? Check. Dark shoes, sunglasses, and mask? Check. “Why today? Wh- I mean, what details are we working with here? What type of stuff do I need?" 

“They didn’t give me much to work off of, babe, just told me to tell you to get your ass up and over to the company in 15 minutes.” The pet name flew over your head to go completely unnoticed as you stripped down to change. Gone was the playful banter the two of you shared on the daily. Yuta’s work voice was on which meant he was serious. You bit back a groan, hopping around on one foot as you tried to stuff your other foot into the pant leg. 

“You said within the hour. Fifteen minutes?! Really?" 

"The sooner the better, Princess. You know Jae doesn't like to be kept waiting." 

Grumbled complaints fell upon deaf ears and you stuffed your company wallet and ID into your purse. “Fine. I’ll see you in fifteen.” 

“Make that ten.” 

“Oh my fucking- Yuta!” 

--

Getting to the party had been no problem. Slipping in unnoticed hadn’t been a problem, either. Hell, even convincing everyone you were another escort and that Yuta was part of a new development in one of their small eastern groups was easy money. However, getting the information… had been posing a problem. 

The rough prints Taeyong had provided the two of you with said the meeting room was more centrally located in the house. While the information you were going off of was limited, the moment the two of you wandered past the crowds of low ranking footmen and into barren hallways where only a few, higher class gang members stood guarding a door, you knew you had found what you were looking for. 

A surge of confidence welled up within you and you started toward the group of men over in front of the door. You could take these pansies. However, a hand, warm and calloused from years of fighting, tugged you back into a familiar chest before you could do anything. Within seconds, his lips were on your neck, kissing and sucking dark bruises into your skin with leisure. Albeit a little taken aback, you followed your partner’s lead and tilted your neck to grant him more access.

“Ahh… Yuta…” Leaning back into his body, you crained your neck so you could shoot a hooded glare up at your partner. “As much as I love how needy you are at the most inconvenient of times-” 

“Easy, princess,” Yuta murmured, smile evident in the way his voice lowered, deep and sensual against the shell of your ear. You suppressed a delicious shiver at the sensation of his hands sliding up and down your arms. “Sorry about the sudden contact, there are just a couple of guys to my five o’ clock that were looking. But those goons over there? There’s three of them, two of us. We can’t rush them like this.” 

“Gr… Fine.” All of a sudden, he paused to spin you around and slam you up against the wall of the hallway, only loud enough to garner the little bit more of��needed attention to the two of you. With his hands on either side of your head and his teeth teasing the flesh of your neck, you couldn’t decide whether to glare at him or kiss the dumb grin off his lips when he wedged his knee between your legs. 

“How about a little... distraction?” Your eyelids fluttered when kissed you again, immediately understanding what he meant. You knew well this was all a part of the job, rolling your core up into the evident arousal forming in your partner’s pants, biting back a moan when he bent down slowly, eyes flickering over your shoulder to check on your audience... But damn, the way his clothed hips met yours had you moaning your partner’s name louder than you originally meant to. 

“Oh my go- Yuta, oh fuck…” One last kiss and he pulled away, sparing you a knowing smirk before turning towards the sound of footsteps near your position. All three men surrounded the two of you, eyes trained solely on your partner.

“HEY.” A giggle threatened to slip from your mouth when you heard how high one of the guy’s voices was. 

“‘Sup, man?” Yuta cocked his head, running a finger over your lips playfully before grinning up at the frowning male glaring at him, the shorter one. “Need something? Another drink? You need a light? Oh shit, have you tried any of the girls over here-”

“Cap it, dickwad,” another guy growled. You noticed Yuta’s smile drop ever so slightly and your blood began to boil. No one called Yuta ‘dickwad’ except for you. “You got 10 seconds to find another hallway to fuck this bitch in before I-” 

“She’s not a ‘bitch’,” your partner grumbled before the other idiot could finish his sentence. The other man stopped and glanced at his friends in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘low-ranking foot soldier’ dared talk back to him. You fought the urge to go for your knife when he grabbed Yuta’s collar, sneering. 

“Care to repeat that, dumbass?”

“Sure, old man,” Yuta growled, eyes narrowing as he squared his shoulders in front of you. “Don’t. Call. Her. A. Bitch.” 

“Why you little fuck-” he didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, though. Because Yuta had already kicked him in the gut and threw a well-squared punch straight into his jaw, knocking him out cold. The other two rushed at him, dark eyes glowing with something dangerous - but they, too, were on the floor, unconscious within seconds.

“Come on,” he called, stepping carelessly over the unconscious bodies and towards the door. “Door’s open.” For a moment, all you could do was stare with your mouth agape at your partner. You had worked with him for the past 4 years and while so much of your time together was spent arguing, bickering over trivial things… There were moments like these that reminded you he still cared in his own way. Releasing a breath, Yuta’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he pulled the recording device out of his suit jacket. 

“Wait- Yuta!” you spoke, hurrying over to your partner’s side. He turned and paused mid-stride, eyes refusing to meet yours just like the way they did every other time he did something for you. “What the fuck- I mean, what was that- I mean, wait. No. T-thank you. You… You didn’t need to beat them up.”

“Pfft, who said I was doing it for you,” he shrugged, voice back to being cocky, slinging an arm around your waist to pull you closer to the door, still avoiding your gaze. “Those guys- they were just assholes in general, they don’t know how much shit you put up with. They deserved that.” 

“But still…” You trailed off, knowing he wasn’t just going to take a compliment like this. So instead, you turned towards him, cupped his chin and pressed a sweet kiss to the frown disfiguring his beautiful features. And he stopped, grabbing your waist to pull you to him once more, soft lips caressed yours. It was all part of the job, that much you knew. Playing coy, acting dumb, kicking ass, skipping days off, and kissing random strangers. 

But the one constant you could always count on was Yuta. Your annoying partner who would always, always have your back.

[un-piorthos-et-tous-pour-un]

The thrilling adventures of a PA - Chapter Five : One man’s loss is another one’s gain. (Adam Sackler x Reader)

The nights have been short after what happened. You couldn’t find sleep, your mind kept rehashing that night, what you have said or done that might have laid to this, what you’ve could have done or said differently after he didn’t say anything all night long. It was tiring to say the least, combined with your work and the day to day life. It was starting to show, dark circles under your eyes, your shortened attention span and increased coffee consumption were obvious signs but working with actors rubbed off on you since you managed to fool the others until now, pretending everything was ok. But of course, you were not, and it was driving you crazy. Why were you stuck like this, knowing this must have been just a game for him, hoping for something that’ll never happen and hurting yourself for nothing ? It was ludicrous, completely laughable and once again you remember Stew’s words. So as you’re sat at your table, (barely) eating your lunch, you decide to move on, to stop been that wreck you’ve become and this time, you’ll stick to your plan. No more distractions, no more foolish hopes. You’ll do your job, perfectly, be nice and all but it’ll be it.

After you’re done, you go to the trailer park, walking mechanically towards Adam’s and you knock at the door. You hear footsteps inside, and you take a step back, knowing it’ll open in a few seconds, revealing the actor and you ready yourself for what’s to come. You take a deep breath and smile when he gets out, greeting you with a small ‘hello’. - ‘’We’re expected in 25 minutes on stage 8, are you ready to go ?’’, you ask him quietly, feeling he’s grumpy by the way he’s standing there, hand clenched on the doorknob. - ‘’Just give me a second, I’ve got something to finish first’’, he answers, getting back in the trailer and you nod, waiting as you cannot really do anything else for the moment. You cannot really hear what he’s saying but he seems pretty tensed. You jump a little when a loud thud resonates from the inside, the sound of a phone getting crashed on the floor it seems. You wonder what’s going on but just after you remind yourself that you’re not supposed to care about him anymore. - ‘’Adam?’’, you simply ask, as suddenly he rushes out, closing the door behind him in a loud clash. - ‘’I’ll need a new cellphone, can you get one for me ?’’, he simply throws at you as an answer, storming towards the stage without looking back. - ‘’Of course, you’ll have it tonight’’, you reply, brows furrowed for a second before you start walking behind him, letting him deal with whatever this is on his own. It’s not your problem and it never was after all. The rest of the day goes by in almost total silence but it’s not a bad thing in the end, it allows you to detach yourself, Once you’re home after getting some food from the little grocery store near your beuilding block, you check your mail and start preparing diner as tonight you’re hosting a small party at your place with some coworkers. Of course Shirley & Stew are going to be there along with Oona and the others but also some other technicians you’ve made friends with over the weeks. Nothing too fancy, just some snacks and drinks, a little chill evening to unwind after a hard day at work. Last time it was Oona’s turn to host and it was a nice setting as she had access to her building’s rooftop, so you try to make it up for it with a large variety of snacks. You’re not a good cook but you’re creative so you’ve come up with many different dips for the crips & vegetable sticks you’ve prepared for the occasion. You just hope you’ll be able to make the evening enjoyable for your guests, you all deserve a break and it would bother you to fail to provide that tonight. Once you’re all set, you take a quick look around and you’re pretty satisfied, the place looks cosy, invinting and the food is spread equally, if they don’t want to move too much they’ll be able to taste everything in one spot. Being a PA as also rubbed off on your organizing skiils, you tend to anticipate more, think ahead and it shows. A few months ago, such a party would result in utter choas because you’d have second guess yourself about everything, trying to please everyone to be accepted, leading to disaster because time would have fly by, leaving you with only one option, to order everythin & empty your meager savings just to save face. That xas progress, in the right way even & it made you smile. Who would’ve thought it possible only a few months ago ? Not yourself, for sure.

Before the first guests arrive, you go change your attire for something a bit more fitting but still quite comfy. You’re not going out after all, might as well just do the bare minimum, it’s not like you’re trying to get someone’s attention these days... A last look at yourself in the mirror and you go back to your living room, waiting for your friends who should be there in only a few minutes now. The first to knock is, not a surprise for you, Oona, who got her arms full of boxes, each containing her famous cupcakes. - “I think I’ve overdone myself this time”, she says laughing a bit as she comes in but knowing the others, there would be none left by the end of the evening. - “If you ever consider a career change, I suggest you open a bakery, I’ll be your most loyal customer, your cupcakes are to die for”, you tell her as she puts the boxes down on the table before she turns over to hug you. - “I’ll keep that idea in mind, maybe i’ll do it on the down low, like some people do it on Etsy or something”, she answers smiling before making herself at home. “Need a hand for something?” - “Nope, I’m all set as you can see but you’re sweet to ask.” Before you can say anything else, the others start arriving and so the party begins. You try your best to be a good host, it’s not easy for you as usually you’d rather stay home, by yourself and watch tv shows & stuff like that but for once, you’ll make an effort. Your little group made you feel accepted & competent so you kinda owe them that, and you could survive being a social animal for one small night, right ? It’s 2 hours into the party when you see Shirley coming your way with a big smile on er face and you’re not sure what it bodes for you so you try to match her attitude but still weary deep inside. She wants to congratulate you for the party, saying it’s one the chilliest she’s ever been to but you can’t help but think she’s only saying that to make you feel better (that’s so Shirley after all). Without missing a beat though, she changes topics and mentions that there is someone here that seems very interest in you and she points (not so) discreetly towards him, making him wave back at the both of you. - “So unconspicuous, thanks now I’m blushing for no reason”, you joke with her but your cheeks feel warm still. It’s Dominic. He’s working as a gaffer for the studio and you’ve talked with him a couple of times already. He seems to be a nice guy, geeky like you. last time you two chatted together, you’ve spent a good 20 minutes debating which composer was the best when it came to original movie soundtracks, something any other guy would probably consider boring and trivial. - “Maybe not for no reason... I mean dearie, he’s kinda cute. Plus he’s clearly into you. You should go talk to him, like right now”, she says still smiling but you can sens it’s not really a recommandation, more like an order. - “You’re never going to leave it alone, are you?”, you reply  you know the answer already. - “You deserver some love too darling, so go on, he doesn’t bite... maybe if you ask nicely though...” - “Shirley!”, you utter disapprovingly as she waddles away from you chuckling. But the deed is done, you notice that Dominic is coming towards you & you smile politely as he stops in front of you. - “Quite à party you’ve thrown here, congratulations”, he says jokingly as he points out to all your coworkers around, busy chatting while emptying the plates & drinks you’ve set out in the appartement. - “Thanks, you’re sweet to say that but I know it’s pretty basic. I didn’t have the time to come up with something as elaborate as the others”, you defend yourself. - “Yeah but at least you did your best, that has to count for something, right?”, he remarks and you nod slightly. - “Oh, now that’ I’m thinking about it, did you have time to watch the movie I talked you about the other day?”, you ask, more than relieved to change subject. - “Not yet, no, but I’ll give it a try soon, it’s on my watch list”, he answers chuckling a bit. - “So you’ve got one too, I’m not the only one who keeps tracks like this”, you admit chuckling too. And off you both go into a conversation about your most anticipated tv shows and without noticing it, the party is over and you’re left on your own to clean up the place but your friends are nice people, they collected the glasses and plates so you just have to pick everything up & put it in your sink. After the last bit is set to dry for the night, you crawl to your bedroom and fall on your bed, drowsing off into sleep with ease. The following days when you cross path with them, you got some compliments for your little spree and you must say, it uplifts your spirit after all that happened. Plus, as days go by, you’re starting to get closer to Dominic. Often you’re spending your lunch break together, chatting about your hobbies and stuff like that, discovering that you have a lot in common. As you thought, he’s nuce, not to narrow-minded but not too opiniated either. He loves animals (he showed you loads of pictures of his dog already and he’s as cute as his owner you must admit) and he loves the same old tv shows such as Xena or McGyver. It’s almost as if you made him in a computer (to continue the references to vintage tv shows you both like of course). So obviously, you’re on your guard. You’ve learned that if it’s too good to be true, it’s probably a trap and you’d rather avoid falling in another one right now. Plus the fact that you like the same things doesn’t mean anything, just that you had similar tastes and backgrounds as you’re roughly the same age too. But you’re not going to lie, you wouldn’t mind going out with him if the possibility should present itself some day. As for how things are going with Adam, you’re not exactly sure where you’re standing. Still not a single word regarding the kiss and he’s been pissed ever since that phone call the other day. So you do your job, daily and as good as ever even if the mood has clearly changed between you two. It’s a bit hard for you to force yourself not to care since it’s part of the job in a way but well, not that way and you know it. You’re not far from him as you both walk to the set and you yawn a bit, you watched the last season of How To Get Away With Murder yesterday’s evening but you sacrified your resting hours to know how it ended & it shows. - “Another party ?”, you suddenly hear coming from him, making you furrow your brows. Was that a jab at you ? It certainly feels so... - “No, not that it’s any of your business even if it was”, you remark maybe a bit too hastily but you don’t wanna hear any more innuendos regarding what you do or might be doing at night coming from him. He has no right to comment on that. “I’ve left the new pages of the script on your table, there’s only 3 lines that changed. I’ve marked them to save you the pain to go through it to found out which”, you add then to change the topics and open the door to the set, letting him enter first. He just nods to thank you and that’s it for conversation. You go join the others on the side and gladly chat with them after that new spat with Adam. Stew gives you a compassionate pat on your arm and you smile back at him, content that none of them ask what put you in that mood. The usual chatter sets your mind aside and the rest of the day arrives sooner than you thought, allowing you to get home early, giving you the opportunity to treat yourself with a feel good movie & some comfort food. But even that doesn’t really help because you can’t stop asking yourself what game he’s playing with you, ignoring you one moment and asking personal questions the other, like he’s some kind of Jekyll & Mr. Hyde. But luckily, you’re tired so you doze off, your mind finally giving you a break & cherry on the to of it all, you’re not coming back to work before noon the next day. As you join Shirley & Oona at their table for lunch, you catch Dominic in the distance. He’s waving at you so you wave back & see Shirley smile a bit as you sit down. - “What? He was saying hello, I just waved back”, you defend yourself, knowing what that smile means coming from her. - “I didn’t say a word darling”, she says a little bit too cheerfully to your taste. - “No need for that, you’ve got your ‘I’m judging you pout’ going on”, quips Oona, visibly amused too by your conversation. - “Ah! See, you’ve got that face, I’m not the only one saying it”, you remark as you sip on your drink with your straw. - “But she’s got a point though, you’re flirting with him”, Oona points out sipping hers too, making you almost sneeze yours out. - “I’m not, I’m being polite, you two should try it some time”, you retort, knowing they’re saying the truth but for now you ant to avoid confronting it, you’re not in the right mindset to start a relationship. They both chuckle and you end up chuckling too, making you think the topic was over but as usual, Shirley doesn’t give up that easily. - “Just be careful if you go out with him, don’t give him any false hope”, she adds, all wisely. - “Why would I do that?”, you ask, brows furrowed, not really knowing where this is coming from. - “You know why”, she says giving you the ‘you know who I’m talking about’ look. “The guy’s into you but don’t let him get close if your heart & mind are still hooked somewhere else”.

She just hit the spot. You always felt like she was some sort of a mind reader and this just confirms it for you because it’s like she knew what was going on inside your brain and strangely, you both knew it, given the look you two share at this point. Feeling the silence is getting awkward, Oona throws another subject out of nowhere and lunch goes by with you thinking about way too many things to really enjoy your food. You’re still processing that whole exchange during the afternoon, warranting yourself some side glances from Adam from time to time, which you deliberately chosoe to ignore. And it kinda pisses you off that he cares now but still not enough to talk to you about wha happened. Another reason you really should start to forget about him & you know it but it’s not that easy since you’re by his side all day long. Deep down you know what you have to do, it’s obvous but that’ll ask a lot for you & you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold the distance. Despite your slight shyness, you’re someone who cares about people (some may even say you care too much) so for you to cast your feelings aside even though you know that’s what needs to be done, it’s gonna be problematic. On your ride home, you nearly miss your stop because you’re deep in your thoughts and as the evening goes on, you feel a headache forming up, making you officially brand the day a crappy one. The next morning you arrive on set, completely on auto-pilot, the two coffee you already took didn’t have any effect on you until now but you pull through, the last thing you xant is hearing another remark coming from Adam about how you look tired, assuming you went out even though he’s part of the reason you’re in that state. But nothing comes and you’re relieved, avoiding yet another spat with him makes your day easier. In order to keep your cool for the day, you decide to eat your lunch next to the costume department building, knowing almost nobody goes there during the break. After a good thirthy minutes, you return to the real world and you cross path with Dominic, who’s leaving for the day, lucky him. You chat a little and when he leaves, you feel lighter. It’s stupid, you curse yourself to be that way, so unstable in your emotions, such a mess when clearly you should know better with what to expect from someone like him, playing with people just because he can. That’s where you’d like to have a dog, to keep you company in times like this, to cheer you up with its cute face. And at least, he wouldn’t play with your feelings like someone else did. But it would be unfair to him, as you wouldn’t be able to xlak him when needed, plus your building rules don’t allow pets in the appartments so... You just hold your pillow close & wait for sleep to come and get you so you can finally call it a day.

[loopy777]

Return of the Jedi is often looked upon as the weakest of the original trilogy. If you share that opinion, what do you think would have improved it? Aside from the Ewok thing, I think they could have gone with a different climax that doesn’t involve a second Death Star (maybe an old timey ship-to-ship style battle with the Executor but in space?)

Yeah, having another Death Star is definitely a bit tired. I appreciate that it came with a bunch of different visuals thanks to its half-finished nature, destroying it didn't involve another trench run, and it allowed for the biggest and most technically accomplished space action of the entire series (they did that all with real models and compositing! CGI may look nice, but it's easy), but having another super-weapon -- never mind the exact same thing as the first movie -- feels lazy.

In the early drafts, the creative team had been toying with something involving the Imperial Capital, but the action never really went beyond Death Star-esque space stations and a forest moon. I think something could have been done with the capital planet itself, but that would have required more budget than George Lucas wanted to spend, and his vision possibly wasn't even technically possible at the time.

Also, I do agree that that Ewoks are perhaps a little too kid-friendly. I think the theme works, with the 'primitives' defeating the more technological Empire, and I even think it was implemented in a believable manner. But the whole 'teddy bear picnic' look of it (as Carrie Fisher called it) was probably too much for the aging primary audience, never mind the adult fans, and there didn't need to be so much silliness and comedy with them. It's the same thing that sunk Jar-Jar and the Gungans in Phantom Menace- cute bumbling critters are fine, but then the audience isn't really going to warm to them winning a war. I don't mean that the fight needs to be all gritty and violent, but leaving the slapstick to just Wicket and letting the other Ewoks looks like experienced guerillas would have probably accomplished a lot in endearing the idea to the audience.

More than the teddy bears, though, I think the look of Endor's moon itself doesn't meet Star Wars standards. It's just a forest, the same thing you can see in any low-budget fantasy movie. Sure, there are a few more redwoods in RotJ than in LotR Knockoff #47, but it's still a step down from what came before. Tatooine was probably the most boring-looking planet before that, in terms of environment, but the sci-fi civilization built on the desert made it interesting. Endor's moon is just a forest and the Ewok treehouses. There's no wow-factor, especially after ESB upped the game from the first movie.

Overall, though, I think the main problem with RotJ is one that isn't really visible on the screen. It's the primary culprit behind the lack of enthusiasm people feel for the movie, IMO.

I'm talking, of course, about the pacing.

The first part of the movie, the rescue of Han from Jabba, feels like a stand-alone adventure more appropriate to an episode of a TV series. It has nothing to do with the conflict with the Empire, and has this slow rollout of the cast that definitely feels like it's reintroducing the audience to them, an odd choice for the last movie in a trilogy. Nothing is accomplished by it except reestablishing the status quo, getting the whole cast ready to return to the real story. It's the most visually impressive location in the movie, with the rancor and all the alien costumes, but in the end Luke just fights his way through it. Throwing Luke and company into something a bit more involved, like if Jabba was meeting with another crime lord and Luke played them off against each other or something, would be a bit more engaging. But that would still leave this section of the movie feeling separate from everything else. I'm not sure how to solve that, as it is a bit of business leftover from ESB that has to be tided up in some way, and it's a good example of why playing things by ear can be really hard even for people who are good at it.

The next major problem with the pacing comes on Endor's moon, when Luke and company spend so much time meeting the Ewoks. I don't think it's a long time in actual count of minutes, but it's a slow bit that's probably more drawn out than it needs to be. The original Star Wars was a location-hopping adventure with wonderfully-paced forward momentum buoyed by some fun moments of natural downtime. ESB was a chase sequence spiced up with the ramping romance between Han and Leia, with Luke's powering up and exploration of the Force inter-spaced, culminating in the heroes suffering major dramatic defeats. But RotJ starts with a side-quest, then Luke gets the truth about Vader in a good scene that's still just people sitting around and talking, and after a speeder bike chase (that again is probably too long) the heroes take their time becoming friends with Ewoks in a forest. Star Wars was exhilarating before this, and now it's laboring to the finish line while dithering to clean up its own subplots.

(Note: I do NOT advocate avoiding the due diligence of cleaning up subplots in order to try to maintain a propulsive plot, and the final movie certainly isn't the place to be throwing new subplots in. That's how you get Rise Of Skywalker, and no one wants that.)

When the big finale starts, with Luke confronting Vader and then the Battle of Endor kicking off, the pacing finally gets back on track, IMO. George Lucas knows how to edit together an action sequence, if nothing else, and knows when to cut back to the slower but more emotionally meaty Luke-stuff with the Emperor.

However, I do think the parts with Han and Leia can come across as a little rote, since their action isn't really tied to any story or character arc for them. It's functional enough with them both leading the rebellion, but there's nothing particularly dramatic about it for them, and they're just busting one small bunker, compared to Lando taking on the big examples of Imperial might, the Death Star and the Executor Super Star Destroyer. Han and Leia don't even get to fight one of the big walkers, they just fight the smaller chicken-walkers! And I think Lando's role does feel more like part of his character arc, with him being a respectable leader for the good guys in a nice uniform, and using his cleverness to keep the fleet alive long enough to assault the Death Star.

But, strangely, the moment in the whole Endor battle that feels the most like a culmination is when the Executor Super Star Destroyer is destroyed, and none of the main characters are even involved in that! Sure, blowing up another Death Star is fine, but we've already done it. No one has blown up a Super Star Destroyer before, and that got built up through the whole previous movie.

Fortunately, everything about Luke's big climax with Vader and the Emperor is functionally perfect, and that's the part that people were most interested in, so I don't think that RotJ really stumbles at the end. It succeeds and does deliver a lot of what people had come to like about Star Wars. It just doesn't do it as intensely or smoothly as the previous efforts, so it feels weaker.

So if I were to try to create a 'stronger' RotJ, I'd probably shave the Han Rescue down to a quick action-packed prologue, do the Vader=Father explanation for Luke as a mix of Obi-Wan's explanation with a trippy Force Vision Quest with some interesting visuals, then have the Rebellion assault the Imperial capital in a mix of space and ground battle. I'd get rid of the whole concept of the forest setting and the spear-wielding primitives, since that's the same metaphor as the Empire and Rebellion, anyway. I'd also make the Rebellion fleet smaller and more desperate, connecting it clearly to the losses from the previous movie, and the attack on the capital is some kind of desperate last ploy, motivated by some kind of time limit. Luke still confronts Vader and the Emperor alone. For Han and Leia, I wonder if -- instead of simply having them fight -- they could maybe rally some downtrodden local citizenry to help take down or turn off some big Imperial Plot Thingy, giving them a chance to show leadership and unite the Rebellion with the people it's been fighting for, or something like that. Han could even tell the locals about the Force, something they've never heard of, living on the capital. And Leia gives them the chance at freedom.

Hm, perhaps the first assault against the Imperial Palace fails at first, with a bunch of Rebels dying but Leia and Han escaping, leaving Lando and company stranded in space with the baddies? Then Leia and Han need to find an alternate way to accomplish the goal, giving the 'meet the locals' sequence a bit more intensity and a time limit, but still serving as a bit of downtime between actiony bits. Or the final half of the movie could be all action, with the relative downtime being Luke's part with the Emperor and Vader in the palace. (This is the kind of thing decided in the editing room.) Then the Rebel assault can be continuous, and about to lose when Han and Leia show up with reinforcements. Movie audiences love that. They turn off the Imperial Plot Thingy. Then Lando lands the decisive blow on the Executor, which crashes into the Imperial Palace just after Luke escapes in the wake of Vader's death.

Anyway, that's all off the top of my head. But you see where I'm going with this. Keep it moving, keep it intense, keep it new and interesting, don't get too hung up on the Vietnam War metaphor that inspired certain themes, and try to put more characters arcs into things so that Harrison Ford doesn't spend the next 30 years talking about how much he wanted his character to die.

Maybe we can have a village of Ewoks living in the capital sewers, along with other Downtroddens. There's no reason not to have any teddy bears.

Star Wars is supposed to be fun, too. And a little silly.

[whumphoarder]

Karmaitis

Summary: Peter fakes sick to help Tony get out of going to an important event, but then later ends up actually sick. His mentor is a bit slow on the uptake.

Word count: 3,043

Genre: Sickfic, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

Link to read on ao3

A/N: I definitely took some liberties with this prompt, but hopefully you still enjoy the story :D Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading and giving me ideas, and to @fandomsficsandfeels for inspiration for the plotline!

“I can’t believe this, Tony,” Pepper whispers from just inside the room’s threshold. Her back is to Peter and her voice is quiet enough that if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, he wouldn’t have registered it. “You’ve known about this award ceremony for months, and now, two hours before it starts, you’re telling me you can’t go?”

“I’m sorry, Pep, but what am I supposed to do?” Tony says, and Peter can hear the distress in his voice. “The kid’s practically coughing up a lung, and FRI says he’s running a fever—I can’t leave him alone like this.”

Peter pushes himself up from where he’s currently sprawled out on the living room sofa, his arms trembling from the effort. “No, no M’s’r Stark…” he rasps, “you can go. I’ll be fi—” he cuts himself off by hunching forward to hack out a few more horrible-sounding coughs.

Tony, dressed in a suit that Peter figures could easily pay for several months of his aunt’s rent, is beside him in three quick strides, immediately wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders to push him to a more upright position.“Hey, hey, easy, kid, easy…” he instructs, rubbing a comforting hand up and down on Peter’s back.

Pepper’s mildly irritated expression softens into one of genuine concern. Her long sparkly gown swishes behind her as she moves over to locate Peter’s water glass on the coffee table and perches herself on the edge of the sofa in front of him. “Here, take a sip,” she says gently.

As soon as the current coughing fit is passed, Peter nods gratefully to her and takes the glass with a shaky hand. “Thanks…” he croaks.

Pepper sighs, but there’s a sad sort of smile to her eyes now. She smooths a few of his curls back out of his eyes. “I’m really sorry you’re feeling so bad.”

Peter feels his face flush slightly. It’s one thing to have Tony see him like this, but it’s another thing entirely to have Pepper Potts witnessing. “It’s really not so bad,” he protests weakly. “I’ll be okay, I just—” He quickly places the glass back down as he breaks into more coughs.

Frowning, Tony presses the back of his hand to the kid’s slightly sweaty forehead. Peter shivers at the touch. “Sorry, kiddo, but May would have my head if she knew I left you alone in this state.” He shudders a bit. “That woman may be sweet, but she’s also terrifying.”

Peter can’t help but bark out a hoarse laugh at that. It’s true that May laid out some pretty strict guidelines before leaving Peter in the Starks’ care while she visits her college friend in Seattle, and he’s fairly sure that letting him die from bronchitis while Tony receives this year’s Green Energy Champion award would violate a few of those.

Turning back to his fiancée, Tony gives her a regretful look. “I guess I could ask Happy to stay with him, but…”

Pepper shakes her head. “No, you’re right,” she concedes. “He’s sick, and until Sunday evening, you’re his temporary guardian. You have to stay.” She gets to her feet again and straightens her dress back out. “I’ll accept the award for you and smooth things over with the organizers and the press.”

Tony stands up as well to plant a quick kiss on her lips. “Have I ever told you that you’re a lifesaver?”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Lifesaver? More like your entire National Guard service.”

While Tony waves her off, Peter lowers his gaze down to the blanket spread across his legs, picking at a piece of fuzz with his fingernails. “I’m really sorry…”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Pepper assures, her tone kind. “It’s not your fault you’re sick—just kind of inconvenient timing. But I’ll figure it all out, don’t worry.” With a humorous huff, she adds, “This is far from the first important event Tony’s missed.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Tony grumbles. “I’ve been much better about that stuff lately.”

“True,” she allows, giving him an extra peck on the cheek. “It’s been nearly a decade since you blew off the Queen of England.”

Peter’s eyes widen, but Tony only rolls his own at the kid in response. “Oh please, as if you would want to fly six hours to drink some tea from a fancy cup with an elderly lady for some international magazine spread...”

“Anyway,” Pepper goes on, “I’d better get going. Good luck you two.” Glancing to Peter, she adds, “Feel better.”

Tony and Peter wave their goodbyes and Pepper makes her way out to the parking garage. They keep their eyes glued to the TV screen, which has been playing Brooklyn Nine-Nine reruns in the background, for several minutes before FRIDAY breaks the silence.

“Boss, Ms. Potts’ car has left the property. She is en route to the ceremony.”

“Oh thank god,” Peter breathes out, immediately untangling the blanket from his legs and pulling the single-use heating packs out from under his hoodie. “I’m about to keel over from heatstroke here. You know spiders can’t thermoregulate well.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I was monitoring you—your temp barely even hit 100 that whole time. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You owe me one,” Peter quips, rubbing at his throat. It’s actually pretty sore now from all the fake coughing. “I lied for you—to Ms. Potts of all people.”

“Technically, you never lied,” Tony points out, holding up his index finger. “You just presented her with some misleading information and she came to her own conclusions. Totally different.”

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Is it, though?”

“It is,” Tony declares. He unknots his tie and tugs it out from his shirt collar before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Ready to finish your webshooter upgrades?”

“Yeah, alright,” Peter agrees. He gets to his feet with a small groan, feeling stiff from having sat curled up for the last few hours to really drive home the performance.

Ordinarily, this kind of deception isn’t something that Peter would endorse, much less participate in. But something about Tony’s reluctance to attend the event tonight seemed to run a bit deeper than the simple explanation he’d given Peter about having “better things to do” and these types of events being “so boring they’ll make your eyes bleed” would seem to suggest, so he’d agreed to play along.

(Secretly, Peter’s pretty sure it has more to do with the fact that the presenter is a man named Patrick Milton, whom a quick google search revealed to be a long-time friend of both Howard Stark and Obadiah Stane. That would definitely explain the way Tony’s eyes darken and lips press together a bit tighter every time Milton’s name is mentioned.)

“Let’s go, kid! Time’s a-wastin'!” Tony calls, moving in the direction of the workshop doors. He seems much more chipper already, and that alone helps to confirm to Peter that he made the right choice. “It’s not every day we get to play hooky.”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Peter replies with a grin.

X

Over the next few hours, Peter and Tony tinker with the webshooter design, tweaking one mechanism or another to add different features. It’s exactly the kind of project Peter would usually be all over, but the longer he stares at the parts of the contraption on the table before him, the more he just wants to go back to the sofa and resume their Hulu marathon. A headache is setting in now and he’s weirdly tired, almost shaky, though that can likely be attributed to low blood sugar from the meager three bites of canned soup he pretended to struggle to swallow down earlier at lunch.

He figures he should probably stop Mr. Stark pretty soon to remind him that dinner is a thing that should happen (his mentor is notorious for working through meals and that’s something that just doesn’t fly with enhanced teenage metabolisms), but Peter’s stomach is feeling decidedly “off” now and food is rapidly losing its appeal. Not to mention he’s awfully warm all of a sudden, despite having stripped to only a t-shirt now.

“Hand me a three-eighths wrench, will you?” Tony asks without looking up from the project.

Peter nods, hopping up from his stool. But the moment his feet touch the ground, a cloud of darkness rolls over his field of vision and he wobbles where he stands. “Whoa…” he whispers, gripping the workbench for support.

Tony glances up and his brow immediately wrinkles in concern. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Peter replies, blinking a couple of times to clear his vision. “Stood up too fast.”

Tony glances at his watch. “I guess it is getting pretty late.” He sets down his tools and wipes his greasy hands off on the towel. “I’ll order us some dinner. Pizza sound good?”

Peter’s stomach twists at the thought and he grimaces slightly—pizza definitely does not sound good at the moment. “Uh, maybe something else...”

“What do you want then?” Tony asks. He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through it. “Sushi? Chinese? Indian?”

Each suggestion causes Peter’s stomach to churn and his face to drain a bit further of color. “You can just get something for yourself,” he mutters. “I think I might have the rest of that soup...” Or nothing, he thinks. Nothing is sounding rather good at the moment.

Tony rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “It’s just us now. You don’t have to put on a show anymore.”

“I’m not,” Peter protests. He presses his fingers to the throbbing spot near his eye. “I’m just not feeling super great…”

“Yeah, sure kid,” Tony dismisses with a disbelieving scoff, both of them moving toward the exit. “Hit the lights, FRI,” he commands.

Tony takes the liberty of ordering them both dinner from a local restaurant (“I got you a cheeseburger”, he informs Peter, who merely grunts in response) and then heads upstairs to take a shower. Meanwhile, Peter shuffles into the living room and curls up against the armrest on one of the sofas, tugging the throw blanket around him tightly. He’s cold now—shivering, actually. When did it get so cold in here?

Despite the aching in his head and the uneasiness in his stomach, his eyelids drift shut and he finds himself falling asleep.

X

“Hey, Pete, wake up.”

Peter groans and tugs the blanket up around his shoulders a little further, burrowing his face into the pillow. He hears the crinkle of a paper bag and the smell of greasy burgers and fries wafts toward him, causing his face to scrunch up.

“Food’s here,” Tony’s voice continues. “Better hurry up and eat before Pep gets back.”

“Hmph…” Peter manages to open his eyes and sits up on the couch, trying to blink away the bleariness. He feels like shit.

Tony tosses one of the paper-wrapped burgers unceremoniously into his lap. “Nice bedhead,” he remarks. “That’ll definitely help with our cover story, which by the way is that you had a nice quiet evening napping on the couch and taking your spidey-kid strength cough medicine and that’s why you’re on the mend now.” He tosses a few fries into his mouth.

Peter hums a bit. He’s only half listening—mostly he’s just trying to keep his breaths even. Maybe if he just holds very, very still, he can quell the growing queasiness in his gut.

Plopping himself down in the armchair, Tony flaps his hand as he goes on. “Tomorrow we can spin some BS about your super healing being responsible for your miraculous recovery… yada, yada.”

The burger still sits on Peter’s thighs, untouched. He blinks at it a few times and then has to swallow down the bile that’s starting to creep up his throat. Nothing has ever looked less appetizing in his life.

As Tony starts to unwrap his own burger, Peter suddenly comes to the conclusion that if he so much as sees that damn burger, he’s going to be redecorating the carpet. It’s probably only fair to give the man some kind of warning.

Peter draws in a careful breath. “Um, Mr. Stark?” he mumbles. “I feel kinda—”

FRIDAY’s voice interrupts over the speakers, “Boss, Ms. Potts has just pulled into the parking garage.”

Tony’s eyes widen and he scrambles back up to his feet, stuffing his burger back into the paper bag. “Shit. She must have left early.”

He grabs Peter’s burger as well (much to the kid’s relief) and shoves it back into the sack along with the fries, throwing him a regretful look as he does so. “I’m sorry—I’ll sneak you something once she’s upstairs.”

“’S’fine....” Peter murmurs as Tony hurries out of the room with the food. His mentor is out of earshot before Peter adds, under his breath, “Think I’ll jus’ go puke now...”

Peter’s mouth is rapidly filling with saliva and he figures he’s got about a minute, tops, before catastrophe strikes. He’s torn between wanting to move as slowly and gingerly as possible in the hopes that his meager lunch will stay down, and the feeling that he should just run for the nearest bathroom and pray that he makes it.

He ends up failing at both.

Easing himself up from the couch, Peter manages to take three steps before his stomach lurches. He leaps forward and changes course for the trash can instead, barely managing to get it under his chin before he’s retching miserably into it.

Between gasping breaths, Peter can hear two sets of footsteps approaching.

“Yeah, he sounds much better now,” Tony’s voice floats down the hallway in his direction. “The meds helped a lot. I think I’ll just let him sleep in tomorrow and his healing factor should kick this bug for good before—“

Both Tony and Pepper stop abruptly in the room’s threshold. Peter shoots his flabbergasted mentor a pained look before dropping his head back into the bin and gagging again.

Before he can resurface, Peter feels a gentle hand on his back. “Oh, Peter…” Pepper soothes. Addressing Tony, she whispers, a little accusingly, “I thought you said he was doing better.”

Snapping right out of his daze, Tony quickly moves over to join them. “He was, but that was before.” He grabs a hold of Peter’s upper arm. “It’s alright, I got him,” he tells her, starting to maneuver Peter toward the bathroom. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s get you sorted out…”

Feeling too weak to protest, Peter shuffles shakily in the direction Tony guides him, still gripping the trash can tightly to his chest.

Pepper casts them both a worried look. “Maybe we should call Cho.”

“He probably just coughed so hard he made himself sick,” Tony explains. Catching Peter’s gaze, Tony shoots him a look that’s somewhere between baffled and pleading. If Peter wasn’t so focused on walking in a straight line at the moment, he might have found it funny. “Right, Pete?”

Peter merely shrugs in response as his mentor ushers him into the bathroom.

“See? He’ll be just fine,” Tony promises. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, honey.” And with that he shuts the bathroom door behind them, leaving Pepper in the hall.

The second they’re alone, Tony releases Peter’s arm and turns to face him. “What are you doing?” he whispers, dumbfounded. “I mean, I admire your commitment here, but she was totally buying it already. You didn’t have to go this far.”

Swaying slightly, Peter grips the sink counter to steady himself. “No,” he croaks. “I’m sick.”

“Right,” Tony agrees, nodding. “You’re sick. But we agreed on taking the respiratory route here, so suddenly going off-script is—”

Peter’s stomach clenches again. He pushes Tony aside and stumbles toward the toilet, yanking the lid up and leaning forward over the bowl before retching yet again.

When the current round of heaving tapers off, Peter glances up to see Tony staring at him, sudden realization dawning. “Oh, shit.” He moves his hand up to feel Peter’s overly-warm forehead. “You really are sick.”

“Told you,” Peter rasps. He’s still trembling, so Tony grabs the kid’s elbow and helps lower him down to sit on the floor beside the toilet. “This always happens…” he mutters.

Tony’s brow furrows. “What always happens?”

“It’s like my body knows when I’m faking,” Peter explains. “Tries to help with the act. Gets a little too enthusiastic.” He pauses to close his eyes and press his palm to his still aching forehead. “In fourth grade, May and Ben told the school I had chickenpox the week before summer break so we could go on vacation to Lego Land before all the prices went up.” He swallows hard. “Except I got a really bad fever the next day and we missed our flight.”

“Fuck…” Tony runs a hand through his own hair, exasperated. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Yeah, and one time I faked sick to get out of a Spanish test and the next week I had tonsillitis,” Peter goes on, feeling his stomach starting to cramp again. “I’m telling you, karma sucks.”

“But I put you up to this,” Tony protests, his face stricken with guilt. “It should’ve been me who got sick then.”

Shrugging, Peter wraps one arm around his middle. “S’okay. Like you said, my healing factor will fix it soon.” He gives a weak grin. “Plus, now we don’t have to worry about Ms. Potts doubting the authenticity.”

Tony huffs out a quick laugh. “Yeah, now we’re just left with explaining why your ‘bronchitis’”—he puts air quotes around the term—“has suddenly morphed into something that’s got you puking your guts up.”

Peter grunts as he scoots a little closer to the toilet again, the nausea returning. “Yeah, I dunno...” He drapes his arm on the rim of the bowl and rests his heavy head on it as he awaits the next round. “Tell her it’s a spider thing?”

With a sigh, Tony sits down beside him and places a hand on the kid’s back. “I’m going to make this up to you somehow.” He starts rubbing gentle circles on Peter’s sweaty t-shirt. “You and May still up for that trip to Lego Land?”

“Sounds good, Mr. Stark…” Peter murmurs before gagging into the bowl again.

Fic masterlist

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: Give the Kid an Oscar

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 6- Tulip Karasu

Hey, guys.

New chapter is up. Sorry it took so long, I've been dealing with some highly personal stuff. It's not going to get any easier so things are going to be a bit unpredictable for awhile.

But that being said, I hope you all like the content as usual and please let me know what you think of my interpretation of Tulip!

Tonks did indeed have a plan, but it was risky, even by their group’s standards. Rowan and Ben were not at all convinced of its merit.

“Let me get this correctly. Tonks is going to pretend to be Snape and report that Peeves is messing up the Transfiguration classroom while you sneak into his office and take back your brother’s quill?” his best friend asked while they ate dinner in the Great Hall.

“Yup,” David replied, taking a bite of his steak. “Pretty much.”

“You seem entirely too unconcerned.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug.

“What choice do I have? I’d have to break into his office somehow and get it back.”

“There are many ways to get Filch to leave his office,” Rowan told him. “But impersonating a teacher is probably the most dangerous. Especially Snape. What if the real one catches you?”

“We’re doing it Friday evening,” David explained. “By that time, Snape will be brooding in his bedroom and won’t even be aware of what’s going on.”

“He could always find out later,” Ben pointed out.

“And how could they prove it was me? Mates, we got every angle of this plan covered. I promise.”

Rowan adjusted his glasses skeptically.

“I just hope Tonks knows what she’s doing. I hope you both know what you’re doing. This could go spectacularly wrong.”

“It’s the only way to find out more about my brother. I’m taking that chance, plus I owe that mean old geezer what for.”

“And what about the cursed vaults? More boggarts keep popping up everywhere. Are you still content to heed Dumbledore and your parents?”

It was the million galleon question. More than ever, David felt the pull to continue to investigate the vaults. But despite what people thought of him, he was not going to purposefully seek trouble. Family mattered more. Not the vaults. But was it time to concede the two were irrevocably linked?

“I’ll have to do a rain check on that,” he told Rowan who looked at Ben.

Neither one of them seemed reassured.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was quite impressive...and bit odd that Tonks knew Filch’s habits so thoroughly. David didn’t mind pointing it out to the metamorphmagus either.

“If you spent half the effort in Herbology as you do tricking Filch, you wouldn’t be spending every other Tuesday with Sprout shoveling dung.”

Tonks clutched her heart in mock offense.

“Merlin’s beard, Dave. You wound me to the quick. The art of hoodwinking this mangy caretaker is an art just as important as any academic mark.”

David snorted.

“Right, whatever you say.”

“Do you want your quill back or not?”

They were in the same corridor as Filch’s office, about thirty feet away, peeking around one of the corners. Tonks wore her usual ensemble of a ripped t-shirt, boots, gray woolen tights, and denim shorts, but she summoned a huge mess of robes from her bag and put them on. The effect was to make her look like a pint sized dementor without the hood.

“Of course.”

“Then follow my lead.”

“Where did you get the robes?”

Tonks couldn’t help but grin.

“Penny has a contact with one of the house elves. Also helps that our common room is right by the kitchen and laundry room.”

“One of these days one of you has to sneak me in there, I swear,” David said eagerly.

“All in good time,” the pink haired witch said with a wink. “For now, it’s showtime. Follow my lead, and stay hidden until Filch is out of sight.”

Without another word, she transformed into an exact replica of Professor Snape, walked promptly down the hall and knocked on the third door to the left.

The jangly, old caretaker opened it immediately, Mrs. Norris purring by his shoes.

“Professor Snape, sir! What can I do for you?”

It was evident that Filch had a great deal of respect as the man bowed as low as his aching joints would let him. David supposed it had something to do with Snape’s reputation as a harsh, no nonsense disciplinarian.

“Yes. It is I: Severus Snape. Potions Master and head of Slytherin. I have a job for you.”

Much as he hated to admit it, Tonk’s acting was atrocious compared to his own stint as the Potions Master. He slapped a hand to his forehead.

“We’re bloody doomed.”

But thankfully, Filch was no Dumbledore when it came to discerning through disguises.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“Peeves is currently wrecking the Transfiguration classroom and I thought you were just the man to fend him off. I would have done it myself, but I have too many papers to grade.”

“Yes, sir, Professor Snape. I’ll go head him off right now. Come, Mrs. Norrus.”

The caretaker hobbled off, his beloved cat in tow. David was sure to remain plastered to the wall as he went by. When out of sight, he went back towards Tonks, who by now had returned to her normal self.

“That was quite a performance.”

“Thank you, kindly. The Transfiguration classroom is pretty far away but I reckon you still only have fifteen minutes before he realizes he’s been tricked and comes back. Search that office as quickly as you can.”

“Right. You’re amazing, Tonks,” he said sincerely to her.

“Praise me later. Go!” she urged him. “I’ll stand guard and give a signal when you have five minutes.”

Wasting no more time, David used a simple unlocking spell on the door, which opened with a small click, granting him access to its contents.

Inside was a jumbled mess of filing cabinets, papers, and notes that surrounded a heavy wooden desk. Boxes of contraband lined the walls. There was a bowl and sleeping area for the mangy cat as well as a cot for a human being. Hanging from the walls were shackles, which were the best maintained objects in the entire room. They were shiny, well oiled and ominous, as if they were being prepared for use in a seconds notice. On top of that, there was a light draft from an unknown source.

David couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for the man but there was little time to dwell on that. He needed to find this quill and fast.

“Filch’s office is just as cold and depressing as I imagined,” he surmised to himself.

Peering around the mass of boxes, cabinets, and contraband he gave a frustrated sigh.

“It’s going to take me forever to go through all this rubbish.”

He began looking through the drawers and various boxes, ignoring the damp smell of moth balls and cat hair. There was nothing much to report, files on various students who had attended the school many years ago, confiscated items such as fanged frisbees and nose biting tea cups. No doubt he’d been on the receiving end of many prank items.

“This is taking too much time,” he muttered.

Then David realized he’d been looking in the wrong place. Quills were small items most likely to be kept inside a desk…

Quickly, he turned around and began scrummaging through Filch’s hardwood desk and soon enough in the second drawer from the right, there it was.”

“Gotcha!” he cried out triumphantly.

Just then, there was a knock on the door indicating five minutes left. He’d made it with time to spare.

Time to get the hell out of here

He and Tonks laughed all the way back to the Gryffindor Tower where she saw him off, both surprised the plan went off without any hitches.

“He’s going to be furious tomorrow,” the pink haired witch chuckled. “Peeves was actually in the Astronomy Tower. Oops.”

“I guess it pays being a metamorphagus,” David said with a grin.

“The teachers all know, of course. I’d never try to fool one of them, but Filch is an exception. Plus, this was important to you.”

David felt his heart warm with gratitude. For as clumsy and goofy as she could be, Tonks really was a true and loyal friend. She had proved that yet again.

“Thank you.”

“Any time, mate. So what do you think this quill contains anyway?”

Rubbing his fingers on the soft, smooth edge of the feather, David only had one thought in mind.

“Something that belonged to my brother. And another key to finding him.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back in the common room It didn’t take long for David and Rowan to get started in analyzing the quill. Though it was late, they were careful to stay quiet so as not to be overheard.

“This quill looks remarkably similar to the one we found on Ben during second year. Do you think it’s ‘R’ again?” Rowan asked.

R was still a mystery to them all. There had been no sign or message from the group since last year and without more evidence to go off, finding out who they were would remain unknown for the time being.

“I don’t think so. Madam Rosmerta said this quill belonged to my brother. It was on his person when the Ministry hauled him away for questioning before leaving it behind.”

“Only one way to find out,” his best friend shrugged.

Laying the quill out on one the tables, David cast the untransfiguring spell.

“Repifarage!”

Almost immediately the quill turned into a brown, leatherback notebook. On the bottom right corner was the name ‘Jacob H. Grant’.

“Whoa…”

Wasting no time, the two young Gryffindors opened it up to the first page. It contained a bevy of symbols and a language that looked suspiciously familiar.

“Ancient Aramaic,” Rowan breathed out. “The same inscription we saw in our first year and on the walls of the ice vault.”

“It’s becoming a common theme,” David said. “Can you decipher it?”

Rowan nodded as he picked up the book and studied its contents.

“I can but it’ll take me a few minutes. Not exactly easy to decipher messages in a dead language.”

“Only a few minutes?” David teased him.

Rowan blushed. “Shut up.”

Indeed, the prowess of his highly intelligent and book smart friend proved quite useful as it only took him a short amount of time to work out the message, constantly tapping the pages with his wand while muttering underneath his breath.

“Alright, I think I have the basic gist of it.”

“What does it say?”

Rowan cleared his throat but spoke in a low whisper as a few sixth year stragglers passed them by. No doubt they were returning from a party of some sort.

“‘These boggarts must have something to do with the curse protecting the next vault, which means someone found it first. If I don’t hurry, Hogwarts is doomed.’”

“History seems to be repeating itself, then,” David mused to himself.

“And look at this!” Rowan said in a hushed, excited tone. “A location of where he conducted most of his research. It’s near the greenhouses on one of the lower corridors.”

David’s heart began to race with anticipation. He hadn’t felt a sense of urgency quite like this since the previous year.

“Just like he told me last year in the ice vault. ‘Find my room, David’. We need to get into it, pronto.”

“You go find it while I take Sunday to decipher the rest of this notebook,” his best friend told him. “We can cover more ground that way.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take Bill with me. He’ll be more than happy to do more investigating into this vault. Plus, he can use his prefect status as a cover just in case a teacher comes along.”

“Tell him I said hello!”

“Rowan, we see him almost every day.”

“I know...I just...never mind.”

David smiled and shook his head. He often wondered just how far Rowan’s admiration of Bill Weasley went. But he shrugged off that thought.

It was time to find his brother’s room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday was always a lazy day, even by Hogwarts’ usual busybody standards. Most students were content to lay around, sleep in, catch up on homework, or hang out with their friends. For David Grant and Bill Weasley, however, that time was spent searching for a random room that contained possible information about a cursed vault.

“This is definitely an unexpected development, but not an unwelcome one,” Bill told him as they walked along the lower corridor. “How did you find out about your brother’s secret room, Dave? You never explained that when you asked me to come along.”

“He kept records of his search for the Cursed Vaults. Madam Rosmerta gave me a black quill at the Three Broomsticks that once belonged to him. Turns out it was a hidden notebook. Rowan deciphered one of the pages and we found the location of the room he used for his research.”

“That’s huge,” the eldest Weasley commented, clearly impressed. “I’m amazed you deciphered it so fast.”

“Thank Rowan. He’s a genius when it comes to that sort of stuff.”

“Of course. So this place is somewhere at the end of this hallway?”

“Past the greenhouses. There’s supposed to be an anonymous room with a dark wooden door.”

Bill swelled up with pride.

“Well then let’s go find it. Now that I’m a prefect, I can make sure that students are out of the corridors if we need some privacy. Plus the teachers won’t think to question us.”

“Didn’t think you’d get those kinds of perks, did ya?” David elbowed him with a grin.

“Being a prefect is something I’m truly thankful for. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy being able to move more freely throughout the castle because of it,” Bill laughed.

Moving forward, they scoured the corridor, glancing around for any sign of their quarry. When there was no door to speak of, David had an idea.

“Let me try something.”

Visualizing an old, dark brown, wooden door, the third year Gryffindor cast a revealing charm. And sure enough, in a tiny corner packed away to the left underneath an archway of stone, one materialized.

“Blimey, David. I still can’t believe you know that spell. McGonagall says most students don’t even attempt vanishing and revealing until sixth year.”

“She says I have the chance to be a certified master in the subject before I turn 17,” he replied, trying not to brag. “I dunno, I guess I’m just naturally good at it.”

“Ever think of becoming an animagus?”

The third year Gryffindor shrugged.

“Not really. The idea of changing into a smelly animal isn’t all that appealing.”

“Fair enough,” Bill chuckled. “Now let’s check out this room.”

But they were in for a frustrating surprise. Upon closer inspection, there was a yellow padlock with two keyholes around the handle.

“Well this sucks,” David muttered.

“I’m sure we can get around it with an unlocking spell,” Bill encouraged.

David withdrew his wand and gave an ‘Alohomora’ but nothing happened, much to his chagrin.

“No good.”

“I’ll try busting it down,” the eldest Weasley said, taking out his own wand. “Flipendo!”

It did not have the intended effect. The spell ricocheted off the door narrowly missing his head and creating a scorch mark on the opposite wall.

“Guess we can cross that method off the list.”

“Must be sealed with some kind of spell beyond our means to break,” Bill surmised. “We’re going to have to find another way.”

It was then that David finally noticed something he hadn’t before: scrawled, tiny writing at the bottom of the lock.

“Look at this,” he pointed. “Property of Tulip Karasu. He looked towards Bill for clarification. “Who the hell is that?”

“I actually know of her,” the Prefect explained. “She’s a Ravenclaw in your year. Apparently, she’s always in detention. Bit of an eccentric from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, joy,” the third year Gryffindor snarked. “Guess we have no choice but to confront the nutter, eh?”

“Either that or we’re not getting through this door.”

There was no question on what to do next. Whoever this Tulip Karasu was, they would have to somehow convince her to give them the key or enchantment to unlock the secrets inside. Another roadblock in the enigma that was fast becoming the next cursed vault.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It didn’t take long for David and Bill to track down their desired person. Tulip was known to hang out in the Transfiguration room after school hours and it was actually Andre Egwu who pointed them in the right direction.

“Just be careful,” he told them at breakfast. “None of us really interact with her that much, but she’s weird even by Ravenclaw standards.”

“We’ll be alright, Andre,” David thanked him. “I’ve taken down an Ice Knight before. I think this shouldn’t be too hard.”

The black teen gave a knowing shrug.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And so the two boys agreed to meet outside the Transfiguration classroom once lessons were done for the day. Ben had unfortunately landed in detention after Ismelda blew up his cauldron and laid the blame at his feet. Rowan was assisting Madam Pince in the library. Upon meeting in the corridor once more, Bill gave him an inquisitive glance.

“I forgot to ask, David. Given everything that’s going on, does this mean we’re all in on the vaults again?”

The third year couldn’t deny that finding his brother and the vaults were undeniably linked by this time. And what’s more, that inescapable, consuming drive was back. He could feel it in the very essence of his soul. He wanted to find Jacob and this vault by extension. If that meant saving the school from a few boggarts, so be it.

“Yeah,” he replied back with a reassuring look. “We’re back.”

Bill grinned.

“I was hoping you’d say that. Come on, let’s see what we can find out from this girl.”

Sure enough inside, there was a third year girl dressed in Ravenclaw colors. She was writing something on a sheet of parchment, giving no indication she was aware of any other presence in the room.

“That reminds me, how do you want to approach this?” Bill asked him.

“Ask nicely and hope she cooperates?” David whispered to the side. “She can’t be that unreasonable.”

Upon approaching the desk Tulip was sitting in, he was able to garner more of her physical features. She was fair skinned, thin, with dark brown eyes that took on a slight Asiatic quality. Long, red hair draped down past her shoulders and like Merula, took certain liberties with the uniform; her sleeves were rolled up and she wore brown oxfords, light blue socks with black tights underneath. To top it off, she also donned a necklace that looked suspiciously like a dungbomb. On the left side of the desk was a green toad which David thought was peculiar but thought nothing more of.

“Uh...excuse me? Tulip? Hi, I’m David Grant. I know your time is valuable and you’re probably very busy, but I really need your help.”

The response they received was bizarre to say the least. The Ravenclaw girl didn’t even bother to look up from her writing.

“Little flower...smells so sweet, so soft and delicate.”

David and Bill gave each other sideways glances, eyebrows raised.

“Uh...did you hear what I asked, Tulip?”

“I’m very busy. Talk to Dennis until I’m finished.”

“Who’s Dennis?” Bill asked, highly confused. He looked down at the toad in front of them, which gave a loud croak. “And what is that?”

Tulip again didn’t bother to look up from whatever she was writing.

“That’s a toad. His name is Dennis.”

Bill resisted rolling his eyes, while David had to suppress a laugh. This girl was barmy.

“We know what a toad is,” the third year Gryffindor said. “What’s that thing strapped to its back?”

It was only now that both boys noticed there was an object tied around the toad’s midsection, which looked suspiciously like…

“A dungbomb,” came the girl’s reply.

“As a prefect and a Weasley I can safely say that is the case,” Bill affirmed.

“I don’t smell anything.”

“It will when it explodes.”

Sure enough, the detonation timer was already set, a quiet ticking permeating through the odd conversation. It was only then David realized the gravity of the situation.

“Son of a...Tulip! How do I disarm this thing?”

“I can’t just give you the answers to my test. I need to know if you’re worthy of my help.”

He looked back towards Bill, panic growing on both of their faces.

“Wait a minute can you actually disarm a dungbomb?”

“If there's a method, I’m not aware of one. Fred and George set them off all the time. I’d say we only have about 10 seconds before it goes off.”

David was in no mood to be smelling the end of yesterday’s lunch and they had mere moments until the fateful explosion. Mind racing, he struggled to think of a solution.

“Wait, Bill. Use that new charm you were showing me the other day.”

“Which one?”

“The bubble head thingy.”

“You mean the bubble head charm?”

“Yes!”

Bill looked very perplexed now.

“How is that supposed to-”

By now David had cut the smelly projectile from the toad’s back and tossed it into the air.

“Cast it now!”

With precise aim, Bill understood his meaning and hit the dungbomb with a liquid blue bubble, enveloping it at the moment of detonation. Inside a greenish gas swirled about before the charm was lifted allowing the noxious air to pass harmlessly into the air.

“That was way too close,” the elder Weasley muttered.

“We didn’t disarm it but we got rid of it at least,” David offered.

“I assumed you would,” Tulip cut across them. By now she had ceased writing and looked upon both boys with great interest. “Getting rid of a dungbomb is nothing compared to breaking the curse on a Cursed Vault. I was quite jealous to be honest. I’ve always wanted to be told off in front of the entire school at the Welcoming Feast.”

“Er...right. May I ask why?” David asked, still unsure of what to make of this person.

“Because rules are made to be broken and Hogwarts has far too many rules,” came the mischievous reply with an equally mischievous smirk he felt oddly drawn to. “You inspired me David Grant. I knew I had to be the next one to open a Cursed Vault. I immediately scoured this castle for clues until I found an abandoned room that your brother used to research the vaults. To prevent anyone else from going in, I fashioned a key with two locks.”

“Well I’m flattered. But I can only assume you have the means to get inside?”

“I do but only partially. One key is in my possession. The other I agreed to give to my accomplice.”

David didn’t like where this conversation was heading. Every time he thought he had the answer to getting into his brother’s room, something else thwarted him.

“And who would this accomplice be?”

Tulip again gave him a curious, eccentric stare.

“I need to know I can trust you before I tell you that, David Grant. Meet me in the Great Hall tonight for dinner. We can chat one on one.”

David was tempted to put his foot down and just demand for the information and they key right then and there but he withheld his frustration. That kind of tactic wouldn’t work with someone like Tulip, especially since she held the key to his brother and the latest vault...quite literally. Of all the houses, he had the least amount of experience with the Ravenclaws.

It seemed as though he was about to get an education. Bill gave him a shrug as if to say ‘couldn’t hurt’.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you there.”

Tulip gave another mischievous smile in return.

“Excellent.”

[somefinelipstickonthatpig]

Of Dancing and Laughter Fic #4, Zestiria - AtlA AU

[Read on AO3]

After fleeing the Fire Navy ships, Sorey, Lailah and Mikleo take shelter for the night in what was once the Southern Air Temple. Though they can't stay, maybe they can bring a little more life and light to the forgotten ruins.

Also, Sorey just wants to try on Lailah's heels.

o - o - o

Lailah decided it was probably some kind of divine fortune that they managed to find the Southern Air Temple when they did. She is sure that otherwise, they would have continued flying until the Fire Nation found them or Atakk became too tired.

Sorey was the first to slide down from the dragon's saddle and onto the outdoor frontcourt of the Southern Air Temple. His booted feet hit greyscale stone; his eyes swept over the crumbling architecture. He seemed at once to be filled with as much awe as dismay.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a temple?”

Lailah slid down after Mikleo, cradling in her arms the bundle of supplies she had stuffed into Atakk’s saddlebags. A shake traveled down the dragon’s form, starting from his nose and rolling down to his tail. He flapped his wings once, then twice, and promptly sat. His nose bowed towards his flank, teeth picking and itching at where one of the buckles latched around his stomach.

Lailah made a soft sound. “Yes. And for all intents and purposes, it still is.”

“But it’s…” Mikleo’s voice drifted off. His brow pinched tightly. “…desecrated.”

Lailah’s mouth pressed to a tight line. “Yes.” She readjusted the bundle in her arms. “Ever since the airbenders fell to the Fire Nation, well…I’m afraid the temple has had no one to care for it.”

Sorey’s shoulders tensed. “That’s awful…”

“It is,” Lailah agreed. “But that also means our job to bring balance is doubly as important as it should be.”

“Y-yeah. I guess so.”

Lailah stepped forward, heels clicking against the stone. “Come with me. We’re going to set up camp.”

o - o - o

As Sorey gathered firewood from lower on the island, Mikleo located three sleeping mats, and Lailah found a few stone hall benches that she instructed the boys to drag over once they returned. In a few moments, the crumbling side entryway began to look like something livable--comfortable, even.

Lailah arranged the kindling in the center of a loose circle of stones when Sorey approached her.

“Lailah?”

“Yes, Sorey?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Lailah hummed an absent-minded affirmative. Her fiddling finished, she snapped her fingers and lit the kindle. She rocked back to view her two charges.

Much to her amusement, Sorey looked to Mikleo at his side with a sheepish glance. Mikleo shrugged back to him, and Sorey turned to Lailah again. His cheeks were dusted an adorable red. “How, uh…how can you walk in those heels all the time? Don’t they hurt?”

“Oh!” Lailah laughed. She rose to her feet and looked down to the scarlet pair she liked to call her ‘statement’ heels. “Not at all! They’re quite comfortable, actually. Heels can be, you know, after you’ve broken them in.”

Mikleo’s eyes brightened; in the campfire light, his violet eyes were painted like a beautiful sunset. He leaned forward. “I saw you wear them back at the South Pole on the ice!”

“Well, yes. I wear them everywhere.”

“But on the ice?” Mikleo stressed. “I was surprised you didn’t fall!”

“Oh, that makes two of us!” Lailah giggled. She raised a hand to her cheek. “I kept thinking I would slip while I was there. It was rather hard to keep my balance.”

“Really?” Sorey’s eyes grew round. “But you didn’t look like you were worried about falling.”

Mikleo crossed his arms over his chest. “You made it look so easy.”

Lailah tittered with pleased laughter. She leaned back and pressed both of her hands to her cheeks and turned away. “Oh, you boys are both so sweet! Why, thank you! How flattering!”

“But really,” Mikleo hummed. He lifted an ungloved hand to his chin. “How do you do it? That’s an impressive skill.”

“It's helped me train my focus when I firebend.” Lailah smiled. “Balance is very important when controlling fire, after all.”

“Gramps used to say the same thing when he was teaching me,” Sorey breathed with big eyes. His gaze darted down to the red heels Lailah had on her feet, and then back up to her face. He bit his lip, and after a brief bout of hesitation, burst out another question with youthful and unabashed eagerness, “Would you mind if I tried…?”

“Oh! Not at all!” Lailah clapped her hands.

Mikleo balked. “Sorey, what?”

But Sorey was already taking off his heavy winter coat and boots. He shivered when his bare feet hit the chilled tiles of the Southern Air Temple, but his grin remained wide on his face. “C’mon, Mikleo! You can’t tell me you don’t want to try it! Not even a little bit?”

A pinched frown spread across Mikleo’s red face. He didn’t say a word but kept his arms resolutely crossed over his chest.

Lailah brought over a low and unbroken bench from the hall to sit on before she slid her heels off. The shoes clacked against one another when she held them out. The other firebender sat down beside her, quick to stuff his feet in them.

“They’re a little tight,” Sorey said with a wince once they were on. But he looked down at the heels and moved his feet back and forth to watch the way their red surface shined in the firelight.

“My feet are most likely a little smaller than yours,” Lailah hummed, watching his face. Her smile widened. “But as long as they fit, you should be good to try walking in them! Why don’t you give it a go?”

“He’s going to trip.”

“Oh, he’ll be all right.” Lailah stood up. Her bare feet quietly clapped against the dusty stone. She turned to Sorey and held out her hands. “Here, let me help you stand.”

Sorey took her hands with a quiet thanks. After a beat, Lailah pulled him upright. Almost immediately, Sorey wobbled.

“Whoa!” He clung tighter to her hands. “Oof! My toes!”

Lailah giggled. She didn't move as he leaned on her. “It’s a bit different, isn’t it?”

“It kinda hurts.”

“It’s probably because my shoes are a bit small for you. Do you think you can walk?”

“I--I’ll try.”

Mikleo shook his head as he watched Sorey take tentative and slow steps with Lailah’s bracing support. Together, the two began to orbit the campfire. It almost looked like they were dancing.

“If only the world could see their Avatar now,” Mikleo murmured lowly, dryly. “Felled by a pair of heels, of all things.”

“Hey…” Sorey called to him; Lailah tried not to laugh. The young man pulled away from her, one arm held out as he attempted to walk on his own around the fire. “…I actually haven’t fallen, you know.”

“Yet.”

Sorey let go of Lailah’s hand. “See? I’m doing just fine.”

“Remarkable.”

“Thank you.”

Lailah giggled. She came to a stop by her bench and clapped her hands together, watching as Sorey made another careful circle. “How do you feel?”

“My feet hurt,” he laughed. “But I think I’m getting the hang of it!”

The brunet walked around once more. Before he started his next lap, however, Sorey changed direction. His green eyes were bright and mischievous, pinned on Mikleo, and Lailah tried not to giggle as she watched him reach for the crossed arms in front of his best friend’s chest.

Mikleo’s face burned red. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Sorey…” he said; his voice dipped low.

“C’mon, Mikleo! I think I’m getting the hang of it!” Sorey’s grin was cheeky and warm. When Mikleo pulled back, his face turning an even brighter shade of crimson, the brunet bowed. He placed a hand to his chest and held the other out. “May I have this dance?”

Lailah clapped her hands together.

Mikleo rolled his eyes. He kept his amethyst gaze resolutely on the temple wall as he slid his hand into Sorey’s. “Yes,” he sighed with faux great effort. “I suppose you can.”

“Yes!” Sorey cheered and he squeezed hard. He leaned back, stepped once and then twice--and all of a sudden, his face paled. The heel of Lailah’s shoe caught on a crumbling edge of a tile and without stability, he lost balance, falling backward, slipping--

Lailah jerked forward, but Mikleo was faster.

He held tight to the hand Sorey already was holding and leaned forward. His arm snatched around Sorey’s waist as Sorey bent backward. Immediately, he could feel his friend’s weight fall into the curve of his embrace. With no control at all, Sorey’s left foot kicked out, pointing to the ceiling.

Mikleo stared down at the wide-eyed Sorey in his hold.

Lailah gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my…”

If it had looked like Sorey and Lailah were dancing earlier around the campfire, it seemed as if Sorey and Mikleo had been caught in an intimate tango.

“I-I’m sorry!” Sorey’s face turned beet red. He released both hands from Mikleo to cover his own face.

Mikleo stuttered, eyes wide.

And then--after a moment--his shoulders trembled. His hold on Sorey shook.

Mikleo laughed.

The sound echoed far and wide down the halls, bouncing off of broken walls and dead columns. Lailah wondered if she was half-imagining how the old desecrated temple now seemed to breathe again with new life, or if that was just an effect of the flickering firelight, licking upwards at the sky.

[sidhewrites]

From an older version of Hoarfrost, showcasing more of the family dynamic I don’t think I’ll be able to explore as fully in this version. But I really enjoyed writing the interaction so I’ll be sharing some of it instead. Excerpt 2, approx 1900 words. Previous Installment found Here.

A few hours past noon, I was filthy with soot and sweat, and Sawyll had taken a seat on a workbench. He shouldn’t have. It was old and rickety, and I’d been meaning to get it replaced for weeks now, but somehow it stayed intact under his bulk. He sang happily, commenting on my form after all these years.

“You still slouch, Bette. Stand up taller.”

“Did Tamber braid your hair today? She’s such an excellent artist, Bette. I wish your posture matched her grace.”

“Don’t hold it so tightly, Bette. It’s a pair of tongs, not a slimy fish.”

I scoffed. “And you’d know everything about slimy fish, wouldn’t you, old man?”

“I know more than you, little girl.” There was a challenge in his voice I didn’t have the chance to answer.

“Oh, look, the dirt and grime has come together in the shape of my sister,” Naza interrupted with a grin in her voice.

“Speaking of slimy fish,” I answered, not looking up from my work. I stood at the anvil, bending a bar into what would become an ornate knocker shaped like a bull’s head. We didn’t have brass in Kellu, but with the help of a whitesmith, we could polish the iron into a shimmering, beautiful work of art.

“A slimy fish, or a loving, wonderful sister who’s come all this way to bring you pie?”

I turned then, unable to smell the meat pie through the fumes and smoke. But I could certainly see the food basket well enough, steaming and beautiful. My mouth watered at the sight.

Sawyll gestured, grinning despite our bickering. “Come in, Naza, come in.”

She did as she was told, and they exchanged pleasantries as I shaped the bar into a ring, and doused it in cold water. “Any changes at home?” I asked over the hiss of the steam.

“Nothing new,” she answered. “Mama is weaving out of stress again, but that’s to be expected.”

I pulled the ring from the water and set it on the anvil along with the rest of my tools, removing and setting my gloves down on top of them.

“My sister returns from the front lines of war,” Naza preened, placing the basket on the work bench and holding her arms out for a hug.

Before I got close enough to embrace her, however, she wrinkled her face and pretended to gag. “You smell like a pig!”

“Just for you, lovely sister,” I said, and pulled her towards me to a proper hug, making sure to bury her face against my armpit.

“You’re as disgusting as an old troll.” She wriggled and groaned. Sawyll laughed, keeping well away from the bickering.

“Just for you,” I said again, and held on tighter.

“You’re getting soot on my coat!”

“It’s your fishing coat. It’s not as if you haven’t had worse on it.” The very idea of fish remains on my hands made my stomach turn.

“If you two are too busy arguing,” Sawyll chimed in, “I’ll be happy to eat this on my own.”

I released her immediately, and Naza descended on the basket, swooping it out of Sawyll’s reach and slapping his hand away. “Not until Sam arrives,” she snapped, and my ears immediately began to burn.

“You invited him over?” Sawyll asked, delighted. Sawyll’s son had been a friend of ours for longer than I could remember, and it was always an event to be around them both. If Sawyll noticed my blushing, he said nothing of it, and I turned away to remove my apron before Naza could see it as well.

“We met up on my way here. I invited him to join us after he washed his hair.”

“Well then, place the basket near the forge. It’ll stay warm while we wait.”

I kept my mouth tightly shut, and made an effort to neaten up my workspace while we waited, and scrubbed my face with a rag. Naza accused me of making a fuss.

“He’s never cared about your mess before,” she said, a bit too sharp for my liking.

“I thought you disliked how filthy I was.”

“Only when you stuff my face in your smelly parts.”

“Let her be,” Sawyll insisted, patting Naza on the arm. “It’s about time that girl took pride in her appearance.”

I flushed again, hiding my scowl in the rag as I pretended to scrub some more. I never quite got the grime off my face, and there would be streaks in odd places when Sam arrived, but I made the effort anyway. There was nothing to be done about my hair, however. It was falling around my face, out of Tamber’s intricate artistry, and I only hoped it didn’t leave me looking like a street urchin.

Naza watched me fuss with a grin. She relaxed onto the workbench next to Sawyll for only a few seconds before a dangerous creaking filled the air. They had just long enough to exchange a glance before the bench snapped beneath them. I forgot my worry at the sight, falling into laughter, and rushing forward to help Sawyll up.

He shoved me off with a single hand. “I can do it, I can get up on my own.”

Indeed, he could not, and it took a moment of struggling before he gave in, and pouted like a child. “All right then, go on.” He held his arms up, and Naza helped me pull him to his feet and lead him over to the low wall around my pavilion.

Minutes later, Sam’s voice echoed around the smithy. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“Probably banging on the front door,” Sawyll guessed.

“Go get him, then.” Naza shoved me towards the gate, grinning wickedly. I would get her back for this, somehow. Eventually.

I did as I was told, however, adjusting my shirt and thick smithing skirts, as if there was any way to make them look good. They were loose, easy to fold or adjust, and hung around me awkwardly, if not comfortably.

I rounded the corner to the front of my shop, boots crunching in the snow.

Before I could, he turned to me with that toothy, crooked smile he gave everyone, grey eyes sparkling. Sam stood in clean clothes, and his shock of violent red hair had been pulled back neatly with a ribbon. I couldn’t help but notice it was the poorly-embroidered one I’d given him last year that looked awful, especially with his red hair. I wasn’t sure he knew it, though, with how often he wore the damn thing. Didn’t he have anything better to tie his hair with?

“Samuel Hackett?” I asked.

“Alzbeta Cinden,” he answered.

“What are you doing in the front of my shop?”

“Propriety, Miss. A proper gentleman never enters through a lady’s back gate without express invitation.” He gave a sweeping bow, mocking the gentry we so rarely saw.

“How glad I am to know you are a gentleman,” I answered, holding my composure for barely three seconds before snickering at the euphemism. He laughed along with me.

“Naza told me how your sister’s doing. I thought I might stop by and cook for you three tonight, and give your mother some peace of mind.”

I shrugged, but the idea excited me. Not enough men in Kellu knew how to cook, and it would be good to have someone cook for us. To force Mama to sit down and breathe for a few hours, rather than fretting over us like a mother bird. Besides – we had always hated the idea that one couldn’t enter someone’s lands without invitation. In Kellu, it was easy. Stand outside a fence and shout until your neighbor came out. It was much harder to do that with a league between you and the house. “If you like.”

“I would like.”

“Then you are welcome to our home.”

A moment passed. Sam looked me over, smile fading. I was clenching my jaw, watching him too closely. I was sure my eyes were still read and sunken from lack of sleep, and Sam could see the stress clear on my face.

“How are you doing?” I didn’t like his genuine concern.

“Better than my mother, I’m sure.”

He looked at me warily. I understood that look, and I didn’t want to address it.

Eventually, I gave in, pursing my lips before answering. “As well as I can be,” I said, honest enough.

“That’s good to hear.” He offered his arm, which I refused to take.

“A gentleman knows not to touch anything covered in filth. Especially not when wearing his only clean pair of clothes.” He opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off. “Come on back. Naza brought us pie, and your father broke my work bench.” I couldn’t stand the idea of him touching me when I was so filthy, especially when the idea of him touching me alone was enough to make me shy.

“Weren’t you supposed to replace that a month ago?”

“Only if you believe what I told you last week.”

“You’re a devil of a woman, Miss Cinden.” He was the only man who called me that. It drove me mad, trying to figure out if I liked it or hated it.

“The man speaks the truth!” Naza cheered, running over to drag Sam by the arm into the pavilion. He looked back at me for just a moment, until Sawyll called him over.

“You’re late!” The old man grabbed Sam’s hands as soon as he was in reach and squeezed them tight.

“Unfortunately so, father. There was a particularly nasty bit of slime in my hair today.”

“It can’t be worse than anything on Bette,” Naza offered, and I shoved her out of my way with a grin.

I made for the food basket, still hot by the flames. “The only thing worse than me is my twin sister. Of course, Sam, I’m sure you could make a case for third.”

“How cruel,” Sawyll chided. “I feel left out.”

“You’re far too good for any of us, Father.”

“I’d rate him at least eighty-seventh worst thing in town,” Naza said.

“Worst thing or worst person?” I asked.

She paused for a moment, pressing a finger to her lips as she thought. “I’m not certain. I’d have to take inventory again.”

“Again?” I placed the basket on the table, and Naza helped me serve.

“Again.” She served Sawyll first, and he thanked us quickly before digging in.

“I think that list is too suited to your tastes,” Sam insisted. He accepted his plate with a quick thank-you before continuing. “If I were honest, I’d be at the top of that list directly after work, if cleanliness was the only thing that mattered.”

“That’s because you’ve never suffered one of Bette’s infamous blacksmith embraces.” Naza grinned as she handed me my plate.

Sam looked between us, hoping for an answer.

I made a show of dropping my fork to hide my blush, while my sister answered for me: “She wraps you up, and stuffs your face in her armpit.”

I stood up just in time to see his cheeks turn pink, and his gaze slide to me. “For sisters only.” It was the only retort I could think of. The smell of my forge might have covered my stench, but he’d get a face full of odor and sweat if I embraced him now. The very idea of it…

If nothing else, that seemed to end that conversation. Our chat drifted to other things – the astrologer’s latest readings, Sam’s morning at sea, and the possibility of a merciful winter this year.

Tag List: @fearlings-lament​, @quilloftheclouds​

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[a-black-pegasus]

Warm Hands and Soup

Its easy to name stuff if you just spout things that are in the story.

Steve and Borrower reader that he found frozen in the cold. Enjoy!

______________________________________________

Steve hummed to himself as he walked back home from the gym. The weather had taken a severe turn for the worst, and decided to dump a foot of snow over the city.

As he walked down the street, taking his usual route he heard dogs barking.

Normally, this wouldn't concern him, but as he got closer he could see through the chain link fence that they weren't barking at him, but at something across from them in the snow drift.

Steve pursed his lips. It could be a cat, in which case it was probably half frozen. Stooping down in front of the snow bank he dug around with his fingers. It wasn't long before he swiped away enough snow, and found something.

Only it wasn't something.

"What in the world...?" Steve wrapped his fingers around a miniscule frozen form. It was a tiny person! He cupped his hands around them, in an attempt to keep the cold out.

"I got to get home." He murmered, hurrying his pace.

***

Getting back home was the easy part, helping his tiny friend wake up on the other hand.....

Steve wrapped them up in a clean hand towel, and held them as he walked over to the closet.

Quickly he pulled out a heating pad, and a blow dryer, and set to work. Within minutes he had them on the pad with the blow dryer fixed over them.

"Please work,...please work..."

***previously***

You were in trouble.

The beans at the last place had spotted you, forcing you to evict yourself. Everything you owned was now in a bag at your hip.

And if they wasn't bad enough, It was snowing!

For a borrower, you had gotten far that afternoon, having already traveled down the alleys, and almost reaching the street sidewalk. But it was cold, and you became stiff as the temperature dropped.

Almost as if in a daze you trudged forward, telling yourself that you would be able to find a hole to slip in somewhere along the brick wall. Eventually you found one, but the hole in question was a climb up.

No matter, that was what you did right? Besides, you needed to get up there.

Stomping forward through the rising snow, you dropped at the foot of the snow hill, and began climbing up on your hands and knees. Within minutes you were soaked to the bone, and frozen. Your toes, your face... every part of you felt numb! You could barely even bend your fingers...

Vaguely you heard dogs barking behind you as you reached the wall. Finding a foot hole amongst the bricks, you tried to pull yourself up.

"Come on...move!" Panick swelled within you as your body barely responded. You were going to freeze to death if you didn't get climbing.

You dropped down to swing your arms, and stomp your feet to get the blood flowing through you. For a few moments, it seemed to do the trick. You started your climb again...

After about four inches, your freezing fingers slipped, and you fell back down into the snow.

Curling your legs up, you let the snow fall over you. To stiff, and tired to care, you let tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

***

"Come on buddy,....can you hear me?"

With an invouluntary groan you made an effort to open your eyes, but it was like they were glued shut. Everything ached, and burned, and you were damp;

Pressure moved up, and down your back. A noise like a large fan blowing went on in the background. As you stirred some more the fan turned off, and you felt whatever warm surface you were laying on move.

Your stomach dropped....you realized you had been picked up!

A whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. It would have been better if they thought you were dead.

"Hey little buddy, are you ok? Here..."

You were turned over, light streamed through your eyelids. Raising your hands you blocked out whatever was in front of you. But then Your arms were pushed down, while something warm was held up to your mouth.

"Come on you can do it. Try to drink this."

You tried to open your eyes again. Almost painfully they cracked open, and though everything was blurry you attempted speaking.

"W-where—" you croaked out, but started spluttering as liquid was tipped down your throat.

"I'm sorry! I thought... Never mind," the voice apologised. You were put back on your stomach as you coughed.

"Where!.." you coughed some more. "Put me down!" You wheezed.

Imediately you were set down. After catching your breath again, you stood to your shaking feet, and turned around.

Before you loomed the biggest bean you had ever seen. He was huge, wide and blonde. A beard covered his face, and an apron covered his clothes. It was green, and had flowers over it, you would have laughed if you weren't terrified.

Holding a spoon in his thick fingers, he pulled a chair over and sat down. "Hey there. My name's Steve." He spoke in a low tone. "How are you feeling?"

You couldn't help but stare. "F-fine..." You lied.

Steve smiled, and moved his hand towards you causing you to flinch back.

"Hey hey, its ok. I'm not gonna hurt you." He held the spoon out. "I want you to get some soup down. It'll make you feel better."

You eyed the spoon, and Steve. The way you looked at it you had two options; you could run, or you could stay and see what this giant does. So far Steve has been nothing but nice, even if he did almost drown you.

Of course there was the third option where he forced fed you the soup, but that was the last thing you wanted.

You sighed, and stepped forward. "Ok..." Placing your hands under the spoon you bent your head down to sip it up. It was good. It spread through your body warming you further.

"There you go." Steve said after a moment. "What's your name?"

"(Y/N)." You answered. A quick look around showed you were in an apartment, and not a house. It would be easier to slip away if there were borrower holes around. "Umm...."

"So, what were you doing out there in the snow?" Steve questioned suddenly. "It's dangerous out there for someone like you."

You folded your arms, and sighed. There really was no reason to lie. "I was moving."

Steve chuckled. "You picked a heck of a time to move."

"It was an emergency!" You snapped. Wilting back, you realized you just snapped at a human.

Steve pulled the spoon back, while his other hand came up, and around you. Huddling back you covered your head. "Wait! I'm sorry!"

Steve stopped looking confused. "Huh why?" His hand scooped you up, his fingers curled in towards you. "You feel like ice still, sit on the heating pad for awhile." Steve moved you back over to the pad, and let you down.

You grabbed a folder of the towel and clung to it. Steve kept speaking. "It's still snowing you know. You can stay here until it passes if you want short stack."

"You're gonna let me go?"

Steve shrugged. "I mean yeah? Why wouldn't I? Although if you need a new place, you're welcome to stay here. I don't think you would take up much room." He chuckled.

"Um...." He wasn't really supposed to know you were there. "...can I think about it?" You dodged answering the question. You didn't want to tick him off.

"Sure. In the meantime would you like to watch a movie? You can have more soup if you want."

You couldn't exactly refuse free food. "Ok." You agreed.

Steve smiled. "Great! Have you ever seen Moana?"

You squinted your eyes. "Who?" You thought you were going to see a movie.

"You'll see." He chuckled.

______________________________________________

Heyo thanks for reading

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