#those random waves of anxiety have come back recently

[snittygoop]

My brother and sister also had rage/anger issues. I’m the youngest. Guess who they took it out on

I also had rage but I had no power to express it

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No. 1

Prompt: Panic Attack

Warnings: Mentions of torture; anxiety attack

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

It happened so fast. 

One moment, you were in the kitchen, preparing dinner—a stew of venison and vegetables. The next, you were crouched in front of Daryl, whispering words of encouragement while he tried to catch his breath. 

Tara hadn’t meant any harm. Over for dinner, she had been rummaging through a box of records—a bonus from a recent run that had gone smoothly. The record player and vinyls had been the reward you had bestowed upon yourselves when you had extra time due to the lack of walkers to dispatch. 

First, to Daryl’s utter joy—expressed by a grunt and appreciative nod—she had chosen Johnny Cash, allowing the record to play through in its entirety before deciding to try her luck with a random choice. The moment the song began, you knew—even before the sound of Daryl’s knife and whetstone clattering on the floor—what would come of it. 

We’re on easy street

“Tara, no!” The spoon you had been using to stir was abandoned somewhere in the kitchen to be found later. Your steps were hurried, finding Daryl with his back pressed against the wall, eyes wide and shining, unseeing. “Daryl. Baby.”

“What’s—I didn’t—” Tara stammered from across the room, her hands flailing uselessly. You waved her off, somewhat urgently. 

“Just turn it off.” Your focus was centered on the man in front of you, his face pale, breaths quick and shallow. “Hey. Hey, you’re okay.”

“Can’t—can’t breathe.” He gasped, a hand coming up to lay against his throat, the other palm flat against his chest. “Don’t—I can’t—”

“You’re not there, Daryl. You’re here. With me.” You yearned to touch him, to ground and comfort him, but knew that he would only flinch away, lost in the torment of those days trapped and tortured at the Sanctuary. “You’re safe.”

“Ain’t—” His breaths were sobbing rushes of air that he thought he couldn’t capture. He was pale, his skin glistening with perspiration. “Y/N—”

“I’m right here.” You followed him as he slid down the wall, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Breathe, Daryl.”

“Can’t—I can’t—”

“You can.” You replied, encouragement outlining each syllable. “Do it like me.” Your gaze honed in on the flutter of his pulse beneath the skin of his neck, too fast. If you didn’t help him gain control, he would pass out. He would be mortified by the display of weakness, an entirely new issue but not a surprising one. Still, if it could be avoided, that would be ideal. “Like me, Daryl.”

He finally dropped his hands, swaying where he sat as his gaze locked onto yours. He blinked hard, attempting to focus. You drew in a deep breath and held it before exhaling, slowly for but a few seconds more. Daryl gasped and hiccuped, trying to imitate your efforts with intense struggle. 

“I’m going to touch you, okay?” You said, simultaneously reaching for him. With a gentle but firm hold on his wrist, you placed his palm against your chest and continued your breathing techniques. “There we go.” You whispered. The redness coloring his skin was receding, the strained tendons in his neck beginning to relax. He was wheezing but each hiccuping breath appeared to come easier than the one that preceded it. 

While you continued your gentle coaxing, you glanced at Tara from the corner of your eye and thanked every deity you could possibly recall that she noticed and grabbed her coat on her way out. You didn’t want her to dwell on guilt. You would talk to her later. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” You could have cried when Daryl finally dragged in a deep breath, the fog that had clouded his eyes mercifully receding. He said nothing while all but collapsing toward you, his forehead meeting your shoulder roughly. “You’re okay.” His willingness to lean against you was all the permission you needed to fold your arms around him. One hand cradled the back of his head while the other rubbed circles over his back. 

“M’sorry.” It was barely a whisper around breaths that still seemed too fast but came without struggle. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, Daryl Dixon.” He tensed beneath your touch but for a mere heartbeat. “What you went through was not just cruel. It was barbaric.” You held him tighter and felt his right arm encircle your lower back. “But you survived. You came back to me. You’re here and you’re safe.” Nuzzling your cheek against his hair, you pressed a kiss against the spot right above his ear. He had yet to pull away and buried his face against the junction of your shoulder. 

“Ain’t none’a us safe.” He mumbled, the words muted. He was right, of course. The world that existed didn’t offer safety or security. All you had known since the turn had been running, surviving. Still—

“We have each other, Daryl.” You pulled back, willing him to meet your eyes. It was a struggle for him. He loathed any display of what he thought was weakness, of what was truly just humanity. His gaze was searching, a hint of sadness outlined with something akin to hope. “Isn’t that enough?” You offered. You brought a hand to his cheek, your thumb wiping away moisture there. Sweat or tears, who knew? 

After a moment, he sniffed and cleared his throat, his hand coming up to cover yours. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Yeah. S’more than enough.”

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 11: Date Night

…in which Ezi’s first date gets interfered.

Word count: 2.5k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: sorry this chapter is so short. I was emotionally unstable when I wrote this last week :D I'll try to write more for the next one.

Also, please follow my writing account on Instagram: @allie.writes :) Don't forget to leave comments on this chapter!

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“Hey, do you remember Dolores?” Dawson asked.

“How could I forget?” Ezili murmured, eyeing her sister up and down.

Of course Ezi remembered Dolores. She couldn’t if she tried. Whenever she looked at Koa, all she saw was what she could never be, what her mother wished that she was, and it only made her despise herself. When she’d first arrived here, she had felt so out of place, but at the same time, free. She still revisited her old life in her sleep, which made her wake up screaming during the night. And despite all the struggles she’d gone through, she felt appreciated. Harry wasn’t anywhere near great, but he wasn’t bad. He looked out for her even though she wasn’t his kind. And she knew if her mother knew she felt this way about a human, she would not be standing here.

But why was she thinking about Harry? He wasn’t here. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked around as the vibrant atmosphere of the night market drowned out her thoughts. Her sister came forward and pulled her into a hug. She could feel Koa’s claws leaving marks on her shoulders, but she knew it was just her imagination.

Koa withdrew with a smile and lifted those perfect human hands with short blunt nails and twisted her hair into a bun. She looked so human, so natural. Ezili wondered how Koa it, but then she caught a glimpse of the trident hanging on a chain around her neck. She’d been using magic.

Immediately, Ezili grabbed Dawson’s hand and pulled him to her side. Koa tilted her head, looking quite confused, which Ezili knew was all an act. Meanwhile, Dawson was blushing. He cleared his throat. “So...Dolores is also here for the book fair. Mind if she joins us?”

“Not at all,” Ezili said with a tight smile.

“Great!” Koa said, hands clasped against her chest.

Ezili tried to figure out what her sister’s intentions were. Was she here to kill Ezili? Was she here to kill Harry? What if she thought Dawson was Ezili’s new target and was here to kill him? Also, how many humans had she killed for her to be here, dressed, act, and talk like a real human girl?

Ezili walked beside Koa as the girl went on and on about how she’d just moved to London, and all the places she’d visited and enjoyed. She must have got all this information from the magic of the trident. She couldn’t be more human than Ezili, who’d had to learn everything by herself.

“Harry?”

Ezili’s heart gave a lurch when she spotted his face in the crowd. It started with a feeling of comfort, like finding a warm bed in the middle of the raging ocean. But then a tidal wave of anxiety crashed down upon her, and she momentarily forgot about Dawson and her sister. She rushed toward him, pushing past a group of tourists and teenagers who cursed at her.

“There you are!” Harry said, spreading his arms. “My favourite fish.”

“What are you doing here?” she hissed and tugged hard at his sleeve. “Why did you follow me here?”

“I didn’t follow you here.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not,” Harry sighed and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he looked around. “Where’s Dawson anyway? Why are you standing here all by yourself?”

Ezili had no time for his questions. “Harry, go home.”

“I’m here to buy books!”

“Oh, yeah? What books?”

“This one,” he said, grabbing a random book from a display shelf they were in front of.

“The Sex Life of Pets?”

“Oh.” His smile dropped as he read the title. “I mean, it does look kinda interesting.”

“Harry, go home. I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are. Dawson left you here all by yourself.”

“He’s taking care of something,” Ezili said anxiously as she put her arms around herself and rubbed. The air was getting cold. She hadn’t had to feel the cold when she’d been a siren. She hated how weak humans were. A slight change of the weather could get them all messed up.

She was about to tell Harry to go home right now because her sister was here, and Dawson might be in danger. Ezili’s job here was to kill one of these men, not save them every single time. But to her surprise, Harry took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. “Come home with me,” he said, gently. “If you stay here, you might get lost among all these tourists.”

“No, you go home,” she said, pushing his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “It’s not safe here for you.”

“How?” he chuckled. “I know London like the back of my hand.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Ezili, you’re acting stran—” Harry was about to finish his sentence when his smile vanished. He pointed over Ezili’s shoulder. “Is that Dawson talking to your sister?”

Ezili whirled around, relieved to find Dawson still alive, but the grin her sister gave her while Dawson was talking to a seller made her uneasy.

“Harry, go home,” she snapped at Harry, shoved him hard so he stumbled back. If something happened, she could only save one of them, and she knew for a fact it would be Harry.

“I’m not going home and leaving you here—”

“And I won’t save you if my sister does something again. I’ll save Dawson, and you don’t want to die, do you?”

At first, she thought those words were all harmless, until she saw the way Harry’s smile dropped, and his shoulders slumped. He said nothing, only nodded. Koa and Dawson were heading towards them now. It was too risky to have Harry here.

“Go!” she shouted and pushed him hard. He didn’t joke about it or react, just held her gaze for a moment and walked away.

“Is that Harry? Harry!”

“He’s leaving, Dawson,” Ezili said and turned to her sister. “Could you come with me to the restroom?”

“Yeah, sure!” Koa happily said, then waved at a puzzled Dawson as she got dragged away.

“What are you trying to do?” Ezili asked in Séren when they were far enough from Dawson, but not too far; she still needed to keep an eye on him just in case.

“Nothing,” Koa answered in their mother tongue. “Although Pretty Boy over there looks quite delicious.”

“Stop it!” Ezili snapped. “You’ve been breaking so many rules around here. You’re not allowed to use the magic of the trident for personal gains.”

“Mother entrusted me with it,” Koa mused.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to know what you’d used it for,” Ezili said, disgusted.

Koa’s dark pink lips curled to the side. “You’re jealous,” she said, leaning back, arms crossed.

Ezili had no time for this. “Please go home,” she told her sister. “I have things under control here. I’ll return in a year with the heart.”

“But you don’t have a whole year,” Koa said. “One year could be a lifetime for these creatures. Humans are fickle. They can stay married for twenty years and still can’t love each other.”

Ezili scoffed, eyebrows raised. “Does the trident tell you that?”

“No, Dolores did,” Koa said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger innocently as if she weren’t talking about someone she’d murdered for no reason. “She hated her husband,” she went on. “I heard her talking on the phone with someone about how she had never loved him, and they had two grown children together. Can you believe it? These creatures made up the thing called ‘marriage’ - a lifetime commitment, which they could not keep up with themselves. And as much as your pretty head wants to see the good in these filthy creatures. They are far from good. Not only do they harm other living things, they also harm their own kind. Physically and emotionally.” Koa put her hand on Ezili’s shoulder and squeezed. “That boy you’re so attached to is no different, Ezili. He will never love you.”

Ezili bit her lip and brushed her sister���s hand off of her. “Don’t tell me about humans when I’ve been here for longer than you do.”

“And yet,” Koa said, “you’re still here.”

Ezili wanted to tell Koa she was wrong for doubting Ezili, but Koa wasn’t wrong. Recently, Ezili had been doubting herself, too. She had even considered switching her target from Harry to Dawson, but she could not feel the same connection she’d had with Harry.

“I have an offer for you, Ezili,” Koa’s voice dragged her out of her own thoughts. She blinked at her sister. “Before your birthday, which was supposed to be your coronation day, you may come back to the Queendom. You’ll tell Mother that you cannot accomplish the mission and ask her to make me Queen of the Seven Seas. Then we’ll have a new Queen as planned. Our evil aunt can’t plot against the throne. And when I’m Queen, I’ll make sure you won’t be banished. You’ll get to keep your title as a princess and stay in the castle.”

Ezili hated that she wasted a second to actually consider the offer. “No. I won’t do it,” she spat, stepping back. “If I accepted this offer, no one and nothing in the ocean world would take me seriously. I would become an outcast anyway.”

Koa rolled her eyes and laughed heartily. “At least you’ll still be protected by the army and you’ll have a family. Or would you rather join the mermaids collecting gold all day for your sad little collection? Also, I’m sure the white sharks would love an abandoned siren.”

“I’m going to be Queen,” Ezili said through clenched teeth. “I’m bringing Mother the heart no matter what. Now you go home and tell her just that. And be careful with my trident that you wore around your little breakable neck.”

Koa opened her mouth to speak, but Ezili didn’t give her a chance. She put up a hand and shouted, “Dawson, let’s go! Dolores is just about to leave.”

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.

Ezili didn’t know what time she arrived home. She tried not to think about her sister’s words, which had clearly been for the purpose of making her doubt herself. She still hoped Dawson had had a great time tonight. They’d bought some books after she’d got rid of Koa, then stopped at a restaurant on the way back to Harry’s mansion. She’d apologised when he’d dropped her off for not being quite herself tonight, and she hated how he’d cheerfully said, “It was nothing. No worries.” Why did humans lie about how they felt all the time? If something bothered you or made you uncomfortable, why not just say it? Why did they feel the need to complicate things? It was hard enough for her to understand human emotions, and they expected her to be able to guess?

“Hey,” Harry said when their eyes met and she froze in the doorway. She’d expected him to be sleeping right now. “You look clean. Guess your sister didn’t kill Dawson?”

Ezili narrowed her eyes at him and kicked off her shoes. “No. Nothing bad happened.”

“Oh, man. I was hoping he was dead.”

“Shut up,” she said. “Also, I don’t think my sister will ever bother us again.” That, she wasn’t sure. She just wanted to be reassured even if it was by her own words.

Harry got up, hands slipped into his pockets. “Sooo...how was your date?”

Ezili pretended she hadn’t heard that question. “Why are you still up?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Had too much coffee earlier.” Then repeated, “How was your date?”

“It was fine,” Ezili said. "Why did you show up?"

"I was just making sure you wouldn't cause any trouble? Your name is tied to mine now, in case you've forgotten."

"How can I? You literally remind me of our fake relationship every two seconds."

“Why are you so pissed off?”

“I’m not.”

“You clearly are,” he persisted.

She let out a sigh, about to just go upstairs and ignore him for the rest of the night, but this one question kept tugging at her. So she had to ask.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry looked confused for a second. “No. Never. I think I’ve told you about what happened with my exes.”

“But did you love them at one point?”

“Well, I thought I loved them,” he said. “But looking back now, I don’t think I know what love is. It’s just...a lot of times, I want to be alone. Just me and Chilli. If someone enters my life and stays around for too long, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“But I’m also living here. We see each other all the time.”

“It’s not like I have a choice to kick you out,” he said, then instantly looked regretful.

Ezili padded across the room and stopped in front of him. “Why would anybody want to be alone?” She knew she didn’t. She was doing all this just to be accepted by her kind, but he, who had everything from fame and wealth to a supportive family, wanted to be left alone?

“You’re not the first girl to ask me that,” he said with a grin. “I think it has a lot to do with how I was brought up. I feel like everyone has these certain expectations for me, and when I don’t meet those expectations, I disappoint them. I just want to be by myself so I can just be me. I don’t want to adjust myself to the presence of others.”

Ezili nodded then moved a bit closer.

“What are you--”

She surprised him by placing her palm on the left side of his chest. Her skin tingled with the sensation of his little unsteady heartbeats when she came near. “But there’s nothing here,” she mumbled as if it would make sense to him. “You were telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?” Harry let out a nervous laugh and reached for her hand, which she withdrew before he could touch.

“Nothing.”

Harry’s smile faded. “Did Dawson say anything about me?”

“No. We hardly talked about you.”

“What about your sister? Why is she here?” he kept asking when she brushed past him and headed for the stairs. “Does your mother want you back? Ezi, what happened tonight?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m just tired. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Ezi,” he said, his voice soft and pleading as if he could love her for a moment. But how could he? How could a man, who had lived his whole life without falling in love and prided himself on his loneliness, ever fall in love with a siren? He’d said he’d wanted to kiss her again, but there he’d stood in front of her and claimed her presence in this house made him uncomfortable. Then when her hand had been on his heart, she had felt nothing.

So had he lied about it? Humans lied about how they felt all the time. If they could lie about wanting to spend the rest of their life with one person, they could lie about wanting to kiss a siren.

Maybe, just maybe, Ezili should consider her sister’s offer.

[kylie-writes-stuff]

we don't have to dance

pairing: corpse husband x reader (female)

word count: 1,101

(somewhat) based off: We Dont Have to Dance - Andy Black

plot: (y/n) gets invited to a party. corpse wants to be there with her, despite his anxiety

authors note: lol kinda don't like the way this turned out but i spent a long time on it and didn't want to just delete it. anyways i watched an interview where andy says the song is about his own social anxiety and being at a party. i immediately thought about corpse. ALSO I DIDNT PROOF READ SO. and sorry if the lowercase bothers you

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"baby, you really don't have to go," you say, softly rubbing his knuckles with your thumb.

corpse swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head, "i want to go with you."

you had recently been invited to a party, well more of a hang out, with the people of the Dream SMP. you were part of the smp and good friends with everyone on the server.

the invite said that everyone was allowed a plus one, if they wanted to bring someone. corpse was your boyfriend of almost 6 months and the two of you supported each other through everything.

he saw how excited you were about seeing everyone and he wanted to go with you.

"are you sure?" you ask again.

you knew about his social anxiety, of course, and didn't want him to push himself or be uncomfortable with anything.

he nods.

"okay..." you started, "but if you feel like you can't do it, you tell me. we'll leave immediately."

he agreed and the two of you grabbed everything you needed.

you drove to the house the party would be at, knowing corpse hates using Uber.

you parked and turned off the car. you stayed in for a second more though.

"really wanna do this?"

you knew that you constantly asking could be annoying, but you just really wanted to make sure he was okay.

he looked at you, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "i do."

he took a deep breath as he fiddled with the mask in his hands.

"y'know, dream will be wearing one too," you said, trying to ease his nerves even just a little.

he gave you a small smile and put it on.

the two of you walked up to the door and you knocked, holding corpse's hand and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

the door opened, revealing alex with a dorky grin on his face.

you said your hello's and walked in, never letting go of corpse's hand.

everyone was already there. seeing this many people in one room made corpse's heart beat out of chest. yes, he knew most of them, but still.

you led him to a corner, somewhat away from everyone. you didn't even have to say anything, just being in your presence and him knowing you'd do anything for him made him feel slightly better.

"do you want some water or something?" you asked.

"yes please." he got out.

you nodded, "want me to go or do you want to come with me?"

"i'll stay here,"

you gave his hand one more squeeze, telling him you'd be right back.

in the few minutes you were gone he watched everyone around him.

How can you all even stand it

Why is there joy in this poison, oh

some people drunk or just buzzed. everyone laughing and being loud. people dancing and not having a care in the world.

Faking smiles and confidence

every once in a while someone would wave at him or even say a quick hello. in those moments he would have to pretend to be okay.

you came back with his water and he was glad. since you were in the corner, he was able to lower his mask and take quick drinks.

he wanted you to have fun and not worry about him. he let you have time to talk and laugh with your friends.

you never truly wandered too far from corpse. you wanted to be with him but you knew that it wouldn't help him if people came near to talk to you. he told you he'd be fine but you always stayed somewhat close, somewhere you could keep an eye on him.

as he continued to watch, his heart started beating faster, his breathing becoming staggered.

Driving miles to capture this excitement

I cant take anymore, oh

corpse never really understood why people would go out of their way to just be in a crowd like this. aanything close to this situation took too much out of him.

eventually, after you said hello to everyone and talked for a bit, you made your way back to corpse.

"you doing okay, my love?" you asked softly.

he nodded, taking your hand in his, "i'm okay."

and it was the truth. he always felt better with you by his side.

after a few more minutes, though, it got to be too much for him. even being with you and talking with him couldnt ease his anxiety.

a drunk wilbur came wandering up to you.

you immediately felt corpse's hand tighten around yours, his palms sweaty.

"what are you losers doing over here?" he asked, not mean but in a joking tone, "c,mon, dance with everyone!"

you looked over and saw everyone laughing and dancing. they weren't all drunk, of course.

you faked a smile and small giggle, "sure, we'll be out there, wil. go ahead, we'll catch up."

he shot you a thumbs up and went off with everyone else.

you turned to corpse, "you okay?"

"n-no," he shook his head.

"hey, that's okay, love. we don't have to dance. we don't have to do anything. wanna leave?" you gently stroked his cheek.

he nodded, leaning into your touch.

you lead him out the house. you didn't really say bye to anyone, but you did see karl. you gestured your head to the door and he nodded, understanding.

you felt corpse relax slightly as you stepped out of the house. you both got in the car and sat for a moment, just like you did when you arrived.

"i'm sorry," corpse mumbled, taking his mask off.

you looked at him, your head tilted, "for what?"

"i wanted you to enjoy this night. i know you don't get to see all of them often. i feel like i was holding you back from having fun. i shouldnt of come... i'm sorry."

you held his hand, "corpsie, it's okay. you didn't hold me back from anything. i'm so proud of you for trying. you know you're always my number 1 priority. hell, you know i'd rather a single night with you than a million with them."

he looked up and smiled, "i love you."

"i love you too."

you drove home and the two of you spent the rest of the night with each other.

you looked down from the tv, a random movie playing, and to your lap. there corpse's head laid, his eyes closed and him breathing softly. you gently ran your fingers through his hair and thought to yourself:

'god, i'm so in love with this man'

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[e-of-west-glendia]

This is a very very very late birthday present for the amazing @moonscarsandstars. I love you so so much babe (except for that thing yesterday you little shit) and I hope you enjoy this thing I wrote!

“I’m not doing it.”

“But whyyy?”

“Because it’s creepy as hell, James. That’s why.”

Sirius shoulders open the door to James’ room and flops down onto his bed.

“It’s not creepy!” James protests, flinging his backpack into a corner.

“It’s just unconventional.”

“Read ‘creepy and stalker-ish’,” Sirius mutters.

James plops down on the bed next to Sirius. “You,” he says, poking his friend in the ribs. “Are no fun.”

Sirius snorts. “I’m plenty of fun. I just don’t write random people letters and put them in their mailbox.”

“At least not yet,” James teases.

“Not ever.”

James rolls his eyes, toeing his shoes off. “You’ll cave, eventually.”

“Unlikely,” Sirius says firmly, folding his legs up onto the bed. Only to be shoved roughly off not a moment later.

“Prongs!”

“No shoes on the bed!” James gestures to his own recently departed shoes. “This is the one rule that I have.”

Sirius picks himself up off the floor. “You sound like your mother.”

“Do not.”

Sirius kicks his shoes off but doesn’t return to the bed. Instead, he takes a seat at James’ desk. In favor of silently spinning in the swivel chair.

They’d been having the same back and forth debate for days now. Should Sirius send a letter to that boy who lived down the street? Or no.

James, of course, voted yes. As did many of Sirius’ friends. Sirius, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why.

His friends seemed to be under the impression that this was some sort of young adult novel. It wasn’t.

You couldn’t just send random people letters. What if they called the police? Then what? Not to mention the fact that Sirius didn’t even know his name. That certainly would complicate things.

That’s not to say they were complete strangers though, Sirius and the mystery boy. Quite the contrary, actually.

The two had met before, when Peter’s mother pointed out the fact that that house was the one she grew up in.

The current occupants of Mrs. Pettigrew’s childhood home had insisted on giving her a tour. A sort of them versus now type thing, Sirius supposed.

As it happened, James and Sirius were there the day of the tour. And that was when Sirius had first run into mystery kid.

They’d been briefly introduced, but Sirius was too busy considering how awkward it was to be walking through someone’s house to pay attention to his name.

Now, nearly seven months later, Sirius, James, and Peter had seen the boy again. And for some ridiculous reason, James was under the impression that sticking a letter with his number on it in that boys mailbox was the best idea ever.

Ok technically it was Sirius’ own fault that the idea even came to mind. But he was absolutely joking when he’d said, “what do you want me to do, stick a letter in his mailbox?”

In response to James’ telling him to go socialize. That didn’t mean he was serious (all jokes aside, of course.)

“Yo,” James says, and Sirius stops spinning.

“Mm?”

“Peters asking if we want to come over. His mom's baking cookies.”

Sirius halts his spinning and stands. “Really all you had to say was ‘cookies’ and I would’ve been on board.”

James laughs. “Fair enough.”

James scoops up his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder while Sirius pulls his shoes back on.

“What are you bringing that for,” Sirius asks, curiously.

James shrugs. “You never know.”

Sirius rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else about it, he just leads the way out of James’ room.

The two of them run into Euphemia at the foot of the stairs.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Peter invited us over,” James explains.

“His mom is making cookies,” Sirius adds.

Euphemia nods solemnly. “I don’t blame you, Peggy’s baking is amazing.”

“That it is!” James agrees, starting for the front door. Sirius follows him.

“Sirius,” Euphemia says, voice slightly sing-songy.

Sirius stops in his tracks.

“Those aren’t shoes are they?”

“Nope,” Sirius says. “They absolutely are not.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” she says with a laugh. “You boys have fun now.”

“We will,” James calls, opening the door and then shutting it firmly behind them.

“I told you you sound like your mother,” Sirius snickers.

“Oh, fuck off,” James says. “That was a joke and you know it.”

Sirius very much does know it, but he chooses to ignore it.

A little while into their walk, Sirius feels a buzz at his side, buoyed by the familiar Apple ringtone.

“Who is it?” James asks.

“Lemme get the phone out first,” Sirius responds. Then, “Marlene.”

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“I’m getting there.”

A moment later Marlene’s face pops onto the screen. Her blonde hair splayed across the pillows around her.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks.

“Did you do it?” She asks, and Sirius groans.

James plucks the phone out of his hand before he can respond.

“No, he absolutely did not. I’ve been trying for hours!”

“Give Sirius his phone back,” Marlene commands.

Sirius take his phone back, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“Pussy,” Marlene says, and then eats what appears to be a handful of gummy worms.

Sirius throws his hands up, exasperated. “What is it with you all and your stupid letter!”

Marlene shrugs. “Dunno, just need some gay drama in our lives I suppose.”

Sirius glares at her. “Marlene,” he says slowly. “You. Are. A. Lesbian.”

“And you’re gay as a maypole,” Marlene retorts. “Go get the guy, Black.”

“It is not that easy,” Sirius sighs.

“Can you write?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“No, I’m calling from a toaster.”

“That would explain the poor video quality.”

“Bullshit.”

Marlene ignores this. “Seems to me like you’re perfectly capable of writing that letter.”

“Yes, but I’m not social,” Sirius says.

Both Marlene and James laugh at that.

“Sirius Black you are the most social person I know aside from myself and your haired idiot over there.”

“Hey!” James says, indignant.

“You can write that letter,” Marlene continues. “I know you can.”

“The problem isn’t I can’t do it,” Sirius says, handing the phone to Marlene so that he can tie up his hair, which has decided for whatever reason to fall in his eyes and be irritating. “I just don’t want to because it’s stupid,” Sirius finishes.

“I see,” Marlene says.

She’s silent for a bit. Which is slightly alarming to Sirius. Marlene is only this quiet on the phone when she’s thinking or playing Subway Surfers, her designated FaceTime Game.

“Well then,” She says, and Sirius releases a sigh of relief. “I guess I can’t make you.”

“Nope,” Sirius says cheerfully, a girl starting to spread across his face.

“Unless of course I dare you to,” Marlene says, and Sirius’ grin drops.

It’s Marlene’s turn to smile now. “Gotcha.”

“You’re the devil.”

It’s quite the well known fact that Sirius will take basically any dare, so long as it doesn’t hurt someone else. And as far as he can tell, this dare isn’t hurting anyone. Not even himself, save for some minor embarrassment.

“How did you know what my Halloween costume was,” Marlene asks, she’s still grinning at him.

“Well, you certainly aren’t an angel,” Sirius grumbles.

Marlene waves a gummy worm at him. “Ain’t that the truth. Well then, I dare you to write that random guy a letter.”

James whistles. “Gosh why didn’t I think of that?”

“You’re afraid of being murdered, maybe?” Sirius suggests.

“And Marlene isn’t?”

“I’m the devil, remember? Already dead.”

“Right, of course, my bad,” James says.

Marlene turns her attention back towards Sirius. “You’re near Peter’s, right? You should send the letter now.”

“With what?” Sirius asks. “I’m short on paper if you can’t tell.”

Marlene gestures to James who is holding up his backpack triumphantly.

“Told you we’d need it!”

“I hate you both,” Sirius mutters, snatching a pen and paper from James.

“What the hell am I even supposed to write?”

“You number,” Marlene says unhelpfully.

“No shit Sherlock.”

Sirius decides not to ask anymore questions. He just scribbles out a quick note and folds the paper.

“What’d you say?” James asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius retorts.

They’re right in front of the house now, and Sirius is wondering if he should just back out of it.

“Don’t be shy,” Marlene says from her end of the phone. Sirius has the vague idea that she’d be shoving him forward if she were here right now.

As it happens he doesn’t need the shove. He walked up the drive himself, ignoring Marlene’s, “Wait flip the camera James. I wanna see him do it.”

He’s at the front porch now, and he thinks he can hear something in the kitchen. There’s the sound of rushing water, dishes maybe?

Without giving it much more thought, Sirius shoves the letter inside the mailbox, wincing at the slight creak it makes.

Then he jogs back down the drive and continues towards Peter’s house.

James runs after him.

“Don’t you feel liberated now?” Marlene asks.

“If by ‘liberated’ you mean like a fucking fairytale charcater then, yes. Sure.”

“I don’t know of any fairyta—“

“Goodbye Marlene,” Sirius says, he takes the phone from James and promptly hangs up on her.

“Rude,” James says jokingly.

“Oh, please, she’s done worse,” Sirius snorts.

“But don’t you feel excited?” James asks.

“I feel anxiety.”

“You’ll thank us later.”

Even thought Sirius rolls his eyes and shoves James into a nearby plant, he can’t help but wonder if James and Marlene are right. And if this’ll actually go somewhere.

Ah, well, that’s another problem for another day. At present moment he should probably be running right about now before James comes to exact his revenge. And that, is exactly what he does.

[dalamjisung]

team wang ❃ jackson wang

word count: 1899

genre: slice of life, fluff, team wang!jackson

member: jackson x reader

description: this is it– all he’s ever wanted: jackson is his own boss now. Team Wang will now have his undivided attention and, well, you couldn’t be prouder. You’ve always been Team Wang, anyways. 

“Delivery,” A voice calls through the building’s intercom, and you try to remember of any recent purchase made from Amazon, but you just can’t.

“Whom for?” You ask, and if Jackson was here, he’d be proud. He always told you to be more aware of security, considering the amount of ill intent directed towards public figures like him. You’d always roll your eyes whenever he lectured you about opening the door for the food delivery man without asking for an identification from the other person, but you’d let it go whenever he hugged you and mumbled in your ear, I just want you to be safe.

“Uh… Jackson Wang?” The man responds. “From Team Wang…?”

The uncertainty in the man’s voice is enough to make you frown, but you tell him to wait downstairs, that you’ll go get the parcels yourself. Putting your shoes on, you go down, passing through Mr. Min, the building’s security guard.

“Can you sign here, ma’am?” The delivery man asks, giving you an electronic pad. You do as instructed and he starts giving you the many boxes piled behind him.

“Wait… is that all for Jackson Wang?” You gasp, looking behind to wave the security guard over. “I might need some help, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Min smiles and both of you work on taking all twelve large boxes to your apartment. After you’re done, you send him back to his post with a ‘thank you’ sandwich and cup of coffee; he’s always been incredibly helpful and kind to you, during the years that you and Jackson had been together, and you can’t help but see Mr. Min as a friend. He’s seen you at your best and at your worst, and if not for his comforting words, sometimes you don’t know what would’ve happened to you after a fight with Jackson, or after a particular hard day at work. He’s always spared you a few words of wisdom, a few moments of hope, and he’s never let you walk out the door with unresolved issues.

“Ah, Seun-ie,” You tut under your breath, looking at the three piles of boxes. “Why did–“

“I’m home!” His melodic voice echoes in the apartment and you chuckle at his clear excitement. “Is it here? Did it arrive? Y/N, did something arrive for me today?”

“Uh,” You turn around to face your fiancee. “I’d say so, yes.”

His eyes shine with contained happiness and he drops his bag by the entrance, running to the many boxes to inspect all of them.

“Babe can you get me a knife?”

You roll your eyes, walking to the kitchen and coming back with scissors instead. You didn’t want him to get lost in his packages and end up hurting himself.

“Here you go, babe,” You help him move the boxes to the living room, where together you cut through all the cardboard. As you two work, he tells you about his day at the studio, about the songs he’s producing, about all the content he’s posting on social media– and you soak it all in, loving the way he rambles on and on about all that he did, all that he couldn’t do before. Because of the restrictions of his old agency, Jackson always talked about all the things he wanted to do, but rarely ever about the things he did. It’s been a week now, and ever since their last performance under their past contract, Jackson’s been much more open to trying out all of the things he talked about before. I’m my own boss now, baby, he’d giggle at random time. I can do what I want.

“Jacks,” You call, looking at him while resting your chin on your hand, a small side adorning your face.

“Yes, my love?” He looks at you from behind a large box, eyes wide and round.

“I’m proud of you,” You tell him, and he blushes. “Really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” He mutters, looking down at the deliveries. “It means a lot coming form you…”

“Well, then you should believe it,” You get up and kiss his cheek on the way back to the kitchen, making some coffee for both of you. “Want milk or not?”

“No, thank you!”

Routine feels like this– this normalcy that you sense from having Jackson in the living room, humming random tunes that are bound to become singles, while you make some coffee; the same normalcy you felt this morning, when he woke you up with breakfast in bed, and the same normalcy you’ll feel tonight, when you both scroll through twitter together, like you’ve done most nights, enjoying the fact that now Bambam has nothing better to do than roast people publicly.

“Y/N, love, come here!”

“Just a second!” You put his coffee in his favorite lime green mug, and, taking your own mug, you waddle back to the living room. “Yes, honey?”

According to the other guys, you and Jackson had always been the most lovey-dovey couple, abusing pet names like there is no tomorrow, but you to always laugh it off, enjoying the little world you create every time he calls you a different lovely nickname.

“Can you try this on for me?” He holds a black velvet puffer jacket and throws it to you. “It’s a size up than your usual, but I think you’ll look fire with an oversized one.”

His enthusiasm is palpable and when you take off your hoodie to try on the jacket, you hear him giggling.

“Are you filming me?” You question once you notice the phone in his hands.

“Of course I’m filming you,” Jackson scoffs as if you had asked the most obvious question in the world. “You look hot wearing Team Wang design.”

You only realize you are wearing Team Wang from head to toe once he points out; you have one of their sweatpants that you hastily put on this morning to finish some work due in the afternoon, and underneath the hoodie, also belonging to your beloved’s company, you had one of their white t-shirts. 

“Oh my god,” You gasp. “I feel so expensive.”

“Wha–“

“I could never afford this,” You mumble under your breath, laughing at his reaction.

“Just try the jacket on,” He grumbles, and when you finally do what he says, the excitement is back. Jackson gets into business mode and soon you are being prepped for a photoshoot by your fiancee. He positions you near the window, and, using the sunlight in his favor, gives you one of the new collection’s cap. Now you truly are Team Wang from head to toe, and he snaps picture after picture, directing you to the best of his abilities. You laugh at the faces he makes, and you enjoy the attention, still not being used to receiving so much of Jackson for so long. Usually, he’d been whisked away already, something about a schedule to follow through. But now, as he showers you with compliments, feeling proud of his work, you feel like he is truly happy.

“Let me see, let me see,” You say after he’s done, jumping where he is sitting on the couch looking through the many photos he took. “You’re not going to post that, right?”

His head snaps up at you, and he is quick to put his phone aside and pull you to sit on his lap.

“Why not?” He questions, looking deeply into your eyes. “They came out amazing, baby!”

“Jackson,” You chuckle, loving his playfulness. “You can hire the best models out there to promote and display your creation if you want… you are not posting a picture of me as a model.”

“But you are a model,” He raises the phone for you to see the album he already created for the shoot. “My model.”

“Jackson–“

“No, I think you don’t understand,” He chuckles a bit, looking down at where one of his hands hold one of yours. He is blushing, and you caress his face with the other hand. “You’ve been my model for a long while now, Y/N. On many different aspects of life. The way you think, the way you speak, the way you act– It’s always been a huge influence for me; always pushing me to be a better version of myself. I love you, yes, but more than that, I admire you. You’re my idol, baby.”

You don’t know how to express yourself in words– you think there might be none, as you kiss him senseless. With a permanent smile, you kiss him, the man of your dreams and the man of your reality. The one that always tried to fix everything, even if there is nothing to fix; the man that works so hard to provide only the best for himself and those around him; the man that promised to love you forever. You kiss him the only way you see possible. You kiss him with all you have. Love. Passion. Admiration. It’s all a mess of emotions that you can hope get through to him. He pulls away first, pecking your lips slowly and firmly, and then snuggles into you, pulling you down to lay on the couch, and you almost laugh at how comic you two must look, surrounded by boxes.

You can’t help but notice six boxes left unopened.

“Jacks,” You poke his cheek and he hums. “What’s in those boxes?”

He raises his head to look where you are pointing.

“Ah,” He smiles and wiggles his brows. “Those are special treats for the guys. I always sent them previews, ever since I started Team Wang… I don’t see why not keep tradition. I also added some things for their girls, now that they can publicly wear them.”

“That’s really nice of you, my love,” You smile at him, hugging him tighter. “I’m sure they’ll love it. They always comment on it whenever I wear Team Wang.”

“Do you think they’ll like it?” He suddenly asks, a bit nervous. “I designed the bucket hat thinking of Jaebeom hyung, and I think Bam will really enjoy the velvet vest but–“

You shut him up with a kiss, straddling his waist. When you pull away, you can see the anxiety in his face; with Jackson, it’s always in the eyes– all his fears, all his accomplishments, all his feelings. You can read him like a book and you think it’s adorable how much he still dories about his group’s– his family’s– opinion of his endeavors, even though he proved himself again and again that no matter what, GOT7 will always walk beside him, supporting him during everything.

“I think they will absolutely love it,” You scoff, hands holding his face in place to look straight into his surprised eyes. “You know they’ll absolutely love it.”

He nods.

“And do you know why?”

He nods once again.

“Why?” You ask, wanting to hear if from his mouth.

“Because they love me,” He smiles, hands moving up and down on your thighs. “And because I love them, too.”

“And?”

“And because they’re proud of me,” Jackson’s voice grows stronger and more confident with each word that leaves his mouth. “And because I’m proud of me.”

“That’s right, baby,” You soften at his wide smile. “We’re all proud of you. We’re all Team Wang.”

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

Well... we really are all Team Wang ;) What do you think of this one, my lovelies? I can just imagine Jackson with his cute smile, getting hyped up. If you liked this story, please please please share, comment, like, or anything you feel comfortable doing ❤️ thank you for your endless support, lovelies💕

[wouldpollyapprove]

Coal Miner’s Daughter

Request: Can you do Tommy with number 4 from the fluff list?????

Requested by Anonymous

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language

A/N: I enjoyed writing this so much and I think I’m gonna at least do a second part. I can’t tell you when that’ll be out, I have to first find time to write it. I also didn’t expect this to turn out this long as I’ve been suffuring from writer’s block. Thinking about it now, I think it’s because I wasn’t inspired by the prompt I was given.

Masterlist

Recently moving to Small Heath, Y/n knew nothing but the fact that everything she owned would be covered in dust and soot. The fact left her unfazed, being a coal miner’s daughter and all meant that she knew no life without either. But this place was cleaner than the Welsh village she’d come from that was covered in layers upon layers of the black material. With the life given to her, she also knew little of what went on in the larger cities both in Wales and England. And that meant, she knew nothing of Mr. Thomas Shelby. 

At least, no until she spilled her drink on him.

“Fuck,” the man shouted as the chilled liquor soaked through his waistcoat. Hands raised, he backed away from the puddle that collected beneath him, the whiskey in his glass splashing onto his fingers. His eyes meet that of what he could only describe as a terrified deer, wide-eyed and doe-like.

Sucking in a breath, Y/n set down her empty glass, cursing herself for not paying attention. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized and reached for a handkerchief that was tucked away in her purse. “Here let me.” Y/n dabbed the clothe over a few areas to suck some of the moisture out. 

“Just-” He removed her hand from his chest. “-go somewhere else.” Though, it was clear her intentions were good, having gin thrown at him put him in a rather grumpy mood.

Nodding, Y/n scurried past the man, his stern tone told her it wouldn’t be delightful to cross him. With an empty glass, she slid into the where her neighbors sat, the ones who invited her to the Garrison in the first place. After she’d told them that she’d never been to a proper pub, they shared a single glance and then declared that they would take her out for around. Seeing as how her portion of the round ended up on a random man, Y/n wasn’t enjoying herself.

Marie shook her head when Y/n slide in next to her brother, Will. “Can’t believe you spilled gin all over Thomas Shelby and he let you live,” she snickered, a finger tracing the rim of the mug in front of her. 

Eyes wide in confusion, Y/n hoped someone would explain who she was talking about. Had she known such a simple accident could result in her death, perhaps she would have reconsidered moving to Birmingham. When no one caught on, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Christ, you are as innocent and naive as they come, aren’t ya?” Will rolled his eyes, downing the last of his whiskey. He sighed, setting the glass down when he caught the hurt and confusion in her eyes. “That man-” A finger pointed at the slender man that could be seen in the pub’s private room. Even from such a distance, Y/n couldn’t help but notice the sparkle of his ice-blue eyes under the light. “-is Thomas Shelby. Very long story short: he’s a businessman and gangster. Guts men like they’re fish and blinds them like their bastards. He’s not one to trifle with. Or lay in bed with.”

Face paling at his words, Y/n couldn’t believe she hadn’t been warned about the man before. Where she came from, the only people you had to worry about were the drunks. There were no gangsters in Aberfan, it was simply unheard of. You had the occasional thief, usually children who were left to starve when their fathers died in the mines and their mothers who couldn’t find work, and perhaps a murderer or two if a man was caught in the wrong bed. But it was never anything like what the people of Birmingham had to deal with. “Should I be worried?”

The woman across from her laughed, “No, dear. The worst he’d do to you is charge you for a new waistcoat.”

An hour or so later, Will let out a sigh and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m beat, think I’m gonna head home,” he said before shuffling out of the booth. Marie nodded in agreement, but she would agree to anything since she had finished off her sixth glass of wine. Y/n watched them stand and throw on their coats to protect themselves from the brutal Birmingham wind. “You coming?” Will asked, throwing a few coins on the table. 

Glancing at the glass that laid abandoned in front of her, barely touched after being refilled, she couldn’t find a reason to go home. Y/n didn’t want to spend another night in her apartment, too big for one person, all alone. Watch the shadows play tricks on her, make her feel safe one minute but let her believe she was in danger the next. At the same time, there was no reason for her to stay in the pub. Her glass would never empty and she would do nothing but feel sorry for herself, sorry that she couldn’t be more like everyone else. 

“I think I’m going to stay a little longer,” she finally said.

Marie raised a brow, “Are you sure ya wanna do that?” Y/n simply nodded and watched the pair slipped out the door.

Once they disappeared behind the wooden doors, Y/n started to regret her decision. It wasn’t too late to run after them, but her brain was telling her otherwise. In a room full of people who had known each other for years, seen each other on the street since they were children, she felt out of place. If she stood, Y/n feared a spotlight would be put on her, following her all the way to the door. But then, when would she leave? There would be no good time to slip past those in her way and run to the comfort and silence of the outside world if she feared the eyes that would be on her. 

Before her anxiety could bury her any deeper, someone slid into the booth. Bringing her eyes up from her glass, Y/n met the eyes of a thick, red-haired man. He looked like every other man that worked in the factories and the look in his eyes told her he didn’t care for a thing she had to say. “Here alone?”

Y/n hesitantly nodded. But as soon as she caught his reaction, she knew it would have been better to lie, say she was here with anyone to get him to find a new place to sit.

“Such a shame. A pretty girl like you, here all by yourself,” he commented, eyes scanning her body. “If you want, we could go back to my place.”

She smiled, “I would rather stay here and finish my drink. You can go home if you’d like.” Over the rim of her glass, she could see he wasn’t pleased and as the liquid stung her throat, she knew he wouldn’t leave willingly. 

“Or I could wait for you to finish.”

Closing her eyes, Y/n couldn’t understand how she had become lucky enough to not only spill her drink on a gangster but also have to put up with a bastard in the same night. How hard was it for the man to see she was uncomfortable? Did the loss of color in her cheeks not give it away? “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want to go home with you.”

The man scuffed, obvious it was rare for women to pass him by. “What are you a prude? Women don’t come sit in pubs alone unless they want to leave with someone.”

Obviously, women in Birmingham took up much different social lives than those in Aberfan. If Y/n were back home, no one would question her being in a pub alone. No one would assume she was there for any reason other than to drink. Small Heath, Birmingham wasn’t the same and she was a fool to believe there wouldn’t be a little culture shock. 

“I-” she started before a shadow was cast over the table. Glancing up, Y/n wasn’t sure if she should be relieved to see Thomas Shelby standing in front of the booth. There was a dangerous look in his eyes when Thomas glared at the man across from her. Y/n found it odd, the man was her problem not his, so why wasn’t he enjoying himself in the little room that seemed to be set aside just for his enjoyment.

“This man bothering you?” he asked Y/n, eyes set on the man across from her. Before she could even nod, the man swallowed, skin turning a dangerous white. 

Shuffling out of the booth, the man stammered, “Sorry, so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I-I’ll just go then.” And like that, he was gone, almost as if he’d never been there to begin with. 

Watching him flee through the door, Y/n slide out of the booth, the eyes of her savior never leaving her. Standing next to him, she wrung her hands together, trying to find the courage to look him in the eye. Mr. Shelby was a tall man that held himself with a deadly sort of confidence that entered the room way before he even made an appearance. He looked like the man that was hard to please and easy to anger. 

Grabbing her coat off the back of her seat, Thomas handed it to her, “You alright?” 

His voice was soft, much different than she expected it to be when he wasn’t angry. “Yes, yes, thank you,” she finally managed, quickly glancing at his face that had softened since she’d spilled her drink all over him. “I think I’ll go home now, don’t want to bother you any more than I already have.”

“It’s no bother and I’d feel much better if you let me walk you home,” he waved her comment off and waited for his offer to be accepted.

Believing it rude to turn him down, a man like him probably wasn’t used to that, Y/n nodded, “If you want to, I suppose.”

With that, Thomas led her out of the pub, the cold air biting her cheeks as they walked out into the empty street. Stuffing her hands in her pocket, Y/n let her eyes wander around the buildings they passed. The brick structures, though not tall, were much larger than the ones she had grown up around. They were giants, looming over the pair as they passed, silence filling the air between them.

Thomas was the first break to the silence, his voice echoing down the street. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” she replied, eyes meeting anything but his own. 

It was silly to be nervous, she could tell he was making an effort. His voice was softer, a gentle touch to it that warmed her heart, and his demeanor was kind, almost loving. The glow from the few lights they passed drown his features in gold, making the man look angelic. In this light, Thomas Shelby didn’t look like a man that could pull the trigger and have blood on his hands. Instead, he looked like a man in love with the world, a poet or a painter. One that found beauty in almost everything. It made Y/n wonder if that’s what he looked like before he had turned to violence. 

“That’s a lovely name,” he mused, searching his pocket for something. With ease, he pulled out a cigarette canister and put one of the thin sticks between his mouth before passing it over to his company. 

“I don’t smoke,” Y/n shook her head as the cigarettes were placed back in Thomas’s pocket.

He nodded, striking a match. “Name’s Tommy,” he informed her once his cigarette was lit and he’d taken a drag, the match forgotten on the cobblestone behind them. “Am I correct in assuming you already know who I am?”

“I just know your name, not much else.” Y/n spared a quick glance at him, his eyes were following her every move, but she didn’t feel like prey with his graze upon her. In his presence, she felt safe, that could have been because he was a gangster or it could have been something she couldn’t put her finger on.

Taking a drag, Tommy glanced up at the night sky. It was a cloudless night, he knew it would be cold. When his mother was alive, she always grew a small garden and made sure to cover her plants when clouds disappeared from the sky come nightfall. “Starry nights are dangerous,” she’d say. “Not only are men fools when the sky is clear, but it’s anything but warm.” If his mother was right, he would wake up to a blanket of frost covering the plants at Arrow House. “You’re not from Birmingham, are you?”

Y/n shook her head, fiddling with the buttons of her coat. “Is it that obvious? But no, I’m not. I’m not from a place that’s anything like this,” she laughed, wondering why she ever chose to move to such a large city. 

“Where are you from then?” Tommy inquired, lips turning up in a small smile when he saw her eyes light up.

“Aberfan. It’s a coal mining village in Wales, dirty place but every lively,” she told him. “Small, everyone knows everybody and when you look past the soot and dirt, it’s very colorful and green. Beautiful, really.”

A big smile broke out on Tommy’s face, matching Y/n’s, it was out of character for him, but her smile was so God damn infectious. There were few people who talked of their home like that, especially considering she came from a mining town. Those mines were death traps for the men that entered, everyone was aware they may not see the light of day, but yet they went down because they needed the money. Knowing, that despite the death, Y/n saw beauty in the place she was raised made Tommy rethink how he viewed the city around him.

He couldn’t speak about the whole of Birmingham, only spending the majority of his life in Small Heath, but once he’d seen stacks of bills, the streets around him had become nothing but filth. Watery Lane was then a just a place for the poor to become poorer and where dreams came to die. There was nothing appealing about the dirt-covered streets but maybe there could be. If Tommy could only view his home under a different light, perhaps he could see the same type of beauty that Y/n did when Aberfan crossed her mind.

Tommy watched the smoke from his cigarette float through the cold air, his breath alongside it. “You miss it then?” The woman beside him shrugged. “You don’t?”

“I’ll always long for it,” she explained, finding herself to grow more comfortable around him. “But I know there’s more to the world than some quaint little mining village in Wales. As long as it’s in my heart, I do believe I’ll be fine.”

Letting her words sink in, Tommy came to a stop beside her at the steps of a front door, which no doubt lead to her apartment. How she felt about Aberfan was how he once felt about Small Heath when he was shipped over to France. The young man that went off to war believed that as long as he kept his home in his heart, it would be as if he never left. The man, a few years older, that returned from the tunnels no longer believed that, no matter how much he wished he did. “This your place,” he motioned to the front door, earning a nod from her. 

“Thank you for walking me home, you didn’t have to,” Y/n found herself smiling at the man as she climbed a few of the steps.

Taking off his cap, Tommy held it between his hands, the anxiety of a schoolboy coursing through his veins. “No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company.” There was a pause as Y/n climbed the rest of the steps, her hand hovering over the door handle. “And I was wondering if I could possibly see you again?”

Y/n didn’t give herself time to stop and question why a man that could drown in his fortune would want to spend time with a coal miner’s daughter. She was dirt and grim, while he was clean and polished, it just didn’t add up. But Y/n didn’t care as heat spread across her cheeks. “I’d like that very much, Tommy.”

“My Friday’s free, if that works for you then perhaps 7 o’clock,” he smiled up at her. 

She nodded, “That works for me. Good night, Tommy.” Y/n opened the door, but not before he said, “Good night, Y/n.”

Watching her slip through the door, Tommy stood there, hearing her feet on the floorboards. He didn’t know what was so appealing about the woman, she seemed shy, one to keep to herself, the total opposite of him. But he couldn’t just see her once and let her slip into the night, no, he simply couldn’t do that.

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[draculaurafangz]

swim good / p. parker

a/n: honestly i did not plan on posting anything but i had to get this out of my drafts because, it’s been there for a while. anyways, this was based off of frank ocean’s song “swim good”. if you’ve ever listened to the song then you’d definitely know what i’m getting at with this. also, you guys can imagine the reader to look however you want, it’s not limited to like one specific image.

warnings: there’s like, a whole lotta angst, there’s curses here & there, and mentions of smut (not really but it’s kinda there, if you read you understand. lmao i don’t like writing smut at all.) also peter’s aged up 18 in this story & in college.

─ ─ ─

peter parker was very popular at your school. not only was it because of the fact that the whole entire school knew he was spiderman, but it was because he was known for sleeping around with girls on campus. thinking back on it, peter doesn’t even remember how it happened. one minute he was this nerdy, awkward teenager who always read his comic books and put together star wars lego sets, and here he is now messing around with girls and tugging at their heartstrings.

at first, he was obsessed with the idea of being this chick magnet. he lived with the pride, no matter how many girls he had lead on and given false hope to.

but now, he’s not so sure.

he’s realized he’s caused other girls around the school, and even in queens, a ton of pain. but most importantly, he had hurt you a great deal. to the point where you had left voicemails, telling him you wished you’d never see him again, and that you regret anything you ever did with him.

peter doesn’t regret it, he actually felt some sort of feeling towards you. out of all the other friday night hookups, you were different. your aura and your presence was just unmatched to those other girls. of course, you cursed yourself for ever sleeping with him because you knew about his reputation. but when you know you had the opportunity you had to take it. you thought you would be able to convince him and change his mind, but it was no use.

so here peter is on a friday night, sitting in his room all by himself, no hookup present. he missed you. god, he missed you so fucking much. he knew you wouldn’t talk to him if he just messaged you or even left a voicemail. he couldn’t bring himself to even think about the last conversation the two of you had because he hated seeing your face. you were broken and in pain. tears streaming down your face as your voice boomed within the room. saying that he was an asshole, and you thought you could actually change him but there was no point in changing him.

little did you know, you did change peter. you changed him a lot, to the point where you caused him to think about his past. there were some girls that honestly treated his hookups the way they were, and some actually cared but soon after got over it. then there were some like you who had been extremely heartbroken. peter never really paid attention to them though because they always made it their mission to ignore him.

it’s not that you didn’t ignore peter, because you did. you just didn’t talk to him at random anymore. he was in a couple of your classes, and would sometimes ask for notes. but other times, he’d just bump into you on campus. so yeah, you were ignoring him. with no intention of talking to him.

he felt so much pain over the past couple of days, thinking about he hurt other girls, thinking about how he hurt you. he cannot stop thinking about you, at this point he’s in love with you. he’s so guilt-ridden that even ned notices something is off with him.

“are you sure you’re okay? you just haven’t been yourself lately,” ned questioned just noticing that his friend seemed to always be disturbed.

“it’s nothing ned,” is what he’d usually respond with “i’m just stressed with my classes right now.”

ned shook his head understandingly. he knew that college for sure was hard on him and couldn’t even imagine how hard it was on peter. peter never told ned about everything, ned was three states away from peter. there was nothing ned could do to fix this, as peter realized he needed to fix everything himself.

his professors even noticed it. some of them even had to speak with him after class letting him know his grade was in great jeopardy. when they asked if everything okay, peter just explained that he had been off recently. he assured them that he’d be back on track soon, and get on top of his academics as well. after speaking with his physics professor he had headed towards your dorm. he never actually went to visit you at your dorm so he had no clue what room was yours. he’d remember swinging by your window, but never got an exact numbered door. when he walked into the main lobby, he asked some random girl if she knew who you were or where your dorm was. luckily for him, he actually bumped into your roomate, but your roomate refused to talk to him.

“i know who you are, and i think you should go,” she coldly spoke.

he pleaded with her and he promised he would make everything right with you if he could actually see you and get the chance to talk to you. after hearing his long ramble about his overdue apology, your roomate caved him and gave him your room number.

he felt anxiety rushing throughout his entire body as he looked through the hallways of numbered doors and finally spotted yours. he took a deep breath before knocking, reminding himself that he was going to be okay, this was going to be okay.

you opened the door and immediately slammed it in his face. behind the door, your eyes went wide and you bit your bottom lip as you thought about opening the door again. what could he have possibly wanted? what was he doing here? had he been stalking you? how the fuck did he find you room? your mind went back to the main question: what does he want and why is he here?

you turned around again facing your door and wiped your sweaty palms against your sweatpants. opening your door, you made a joke about how it was too early for a booty call. peter’s face remained straight seeming to just be unamused with the joke. you then asked what he had wanted. how this was all unlike him and how he truly he doesn’t chase but rather attract.

“y/n, just please hear me out. give me five minutes, two minutes even. i just need to talk to you,” he started.

you gulped, the big lump in your throat returning as you whispered a “come in” to him.

he sat on the edge of your bed as you stood in the middle of your room. your arms were crossed and you had a blank look on your face.

“i- i just wanted to say i’m sorry,” he stuttered, “i regret ever hurting you, y/n. i think back about how i ruined everything between us daily. usually i don’t let feelings get in the way of this but holy shit i cannot even deny them anymore. and that’s why i came here. i know i’ve given you so much stress lately and i truly apologize. i know i hurt you at night and i can’t even sleep sometimes knowing that i hurt you. i need to make things right. i’m not asking for anything major, i just want to be on good terms again with you,” he finished, averting his eyes away from yours.

you took his words in, thinking them over as you stared back at his features. you didn’t hate him, as a matter of fact you were head over heels in love with him. but you couldn’t do it. you could not be in a relationship right now, but you weren’t going to just dismiss the way he wanted to mend things between the two of you.

the two of you sat in silence for another minute as you collected your thoughts, him waiting patiently for you. you walked over to him and just hugged him. you already felt tears well up in your eyes but did not want them to spill. peter at this point was full on crying. this was the closure you both needed. you whispered in his ear how you don’t want a relationship right now, but he understood because he didn’t know if he was able to take on one by himself right now. as the two of you pulled apart, you wiped your eyes as you gave peter time to collect himself.

“i’m down to fix things. i love you a lot pete but we need to work on ourselves and our own dynamic before we even think about jumping into that whole relationship stage,” you said.

“and i’m totally okay with that. i can deal with that. i was just scared of losing you,” his eyes glossed over again as he said that. new tears were forming in his eyes.

you’d never thought you’d see the day where peter parker was actually showing some emotion. he seemed like the type to be emotionless after you had your experience with him.

it was going to take a while to heal, but you both had each other so there was no fear. peter was going to be more open and honest with his feelings. he was sorry, he was taking the accountability he should’ve taken a long time ago. he had you to thank for that.

i’m goin off (oh, my pretty love)

don’t try stopping me

i’m goin off (throw me in a line)

don’t try saving (you broke my heart)

no flares (you broke my heart)

no vest (you drove my love)

and no fear

waves are washin’ me out.

[kitkat1003]

Everything is Blue

Chapter 1:  His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him.  He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out!  I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au.  Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr!  It even has a sequel!  Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her.  A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it.  He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point?  She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories.  He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead.  Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing.  If anything, MK thought he’d be older.  He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them.  Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time.  DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young.  Powerful.  Weak.  Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin.  Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops.  His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face.  The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot.  It’s a miracle he’s even standing.  

What is this?  

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters.  The empty canisters.  There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?  

Is this?  Wher e it w  e n    t?  

Wha t   i  s  . .   .  ?

It’s hard to think.  His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel.  Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea.  He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze.  How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face.  He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here.  Then again, he doesn’t even  know how he got here.  He feels dizzy just trying to remember. 

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss.  Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time.  He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing.  There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little.  He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost.  He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before.  Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands.  He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy  

“Here, kid.  Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever.  Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown.  MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight.  MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying 

Leave. 

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air. 

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm.  Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again.  He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain.  The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.  

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque.  MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable.  He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?  He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little.  Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second. 

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud!  Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone.  Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him.  He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know?  Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool.  You uh...you bring anyone with you?” 

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No?  Unless-Oh no, is there someone here?  Is it a demon guy?”  What if he led a bad guy here?  What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved.  MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves.  Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh!  That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head.  “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt.  But!  If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker!  Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.  

“Sure, why not?  If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow. 

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin.  “Totally!  I’m, like, the best at meditation.  I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects.  MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits.  Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks.  A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move.  It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise.  “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out.  Nothing else matters but the energies around you.  Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,” 

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride.  “I’m a pretty powerful guy.  DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too.  Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath.  The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin.  Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King.  Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding.  He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already?  You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope!  Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?”  He shrugs, and then stands, looking around.  Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip.  “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong?  I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself.  “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud.  I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off.  MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei!  She’s...very green.  Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid.  Not surprising.  Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts.  “You’re freezing.  It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal.  Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe?  I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately.  Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again.  “You’re probably fine.  Just, take it easy the next few days, alright?  Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job.  When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely.  MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay.  Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.  

Monkey King deliberates.  Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what.  We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago.  Kay?” 

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home.  He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find.  He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold.  He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest.  For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat.  There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice.  He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training.  It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore.  MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work.  Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries.  It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day.  He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy.  Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so. 

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam.  Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing.  He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake.  Cruel, to yell at one so young.  Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump.  Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down.  He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

 That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it?  When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

 It’s probably nothing.  After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments.  When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings.  When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating.  When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up.  When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days.  When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you.  They want you gone.  They’re plotting against you.  They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that.  He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying.  He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues.  He knows that he’s not a good enough successor.  And that just makes him want to do better.  

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense.  He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know?  He’s the Monkey King’s successor.  He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager.  If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part.  Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be.  He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter.  He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough.  He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often.  If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week.  He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier.  Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades.  He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.  

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet.  He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right?  That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right?  He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough.  They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room.  He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore.  He’s losing feeling in his fingers.  He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him.  And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out.  If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him.  He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?  

Listen to me. 

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it.  The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice.  He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them.  They try to kill him, but it’s never personal.  He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him.  He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder.  They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him.  And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close.  And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age.  And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son.  It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen.  Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in.  Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon.  They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat.  After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task.  So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm.  You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around.  He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad.  Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number.  Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text.  He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before. 

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape.  They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt.  MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK.  You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it.  He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth.  He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them.  That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently.  He sips the tea.  It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says.  “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt.  If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea.  A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away.  Apparently MK is too cold for its liking.  He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning.  Mistakes are bound to happen.  Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever!  You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.  And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is.  “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool.  Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with.  MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright.  Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced.  Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang.  I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.  What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories.  I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back.  He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble.  Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it.  It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay.  The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by.  Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled.  Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly.  MK tilts his head to the side.  “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh.  So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits.  Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK?  You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah!  What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled.  They thought he had killed an innocent girl!  He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him.  The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit.  She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather.  Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up.  Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently.  “More than once.  Not that it matters.” 

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends.  “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better.  But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side.  “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.  

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right.  Eugh, gross.  Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down.  “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter.  MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind.  He stumbles a bit while walking.  He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time.  He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing.  She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating.  Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt.  His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue.  He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours.  Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her.  He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon.  There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet.  He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.  

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there.  This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face.  Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud?  You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it.  MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful.  And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward.  The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.  

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second.  “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something.  There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward.  Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house.  When did they get there?  Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid.  Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch.  Warm.  Safe.  

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked.  Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks.  “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK.  MK blinks in confusion.  He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear.  It’s nice, sometimes.  Mean other times.  MK wonders if that’s his fault.  Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him?  How can he be better?  He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on.  MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away.  Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote.  Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off.  It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream.  He stands on ice.  Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles.  He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer.  The closer he gets, the more he can make them out.  “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls.  His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants.  He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow.  Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face.  It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself.  He misses the contact.  He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him.  It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else.  Her face is ice cold, yet inviting.  He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay?  Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly.  Of course that’s what he wants.  More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration.  He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity.  She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it.  The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm.  It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired.  He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero.  He is warm.  He is ready.  

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before.  Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.  

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps.  The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin.  MK has never felt better.  He knows what to do now.  He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will.  He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while.  He forgot he had to.  He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching.  He remembers, now, how to look at auras.  He remembers a lot of things now.  It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first?  He needs to get all of them, keep them secure.  It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first.  We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense.  MK grins to himself.  It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing.  He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance.  He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory.  Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash.  They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough.  They’re demons.  Dangerous.  He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.  

He heads to their home, not in a hurry.  There’s no rush to the inevitable.  Is this what self confidence is?  The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you?  It feels very gratifying.  He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.  

His phone buzzes.  A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is.  He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff.  Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps.  That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh.  “Step two, take the staff from him.” 

As if they could.  MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door.  Polite.  He still has manners, after all.

“Huh?  Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice.  MK pats the statue with a fond look.  He’ll chip away the extra pieces later.  This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise.  He can get better at it with practice.  Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other.  Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes.  He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders.  Where is he going to put them?  There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed.  What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave?  The old villain hideout?  

That’s perfect!  After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right?  Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan.  Gosh, he’s so smart.  Because this is him, all him.  He finally is smart enough to know what to do.  He has to clear out the cave, first.  It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers.  There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses.  He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right?  He can fix anything, given enough time.  That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release.  He nods to himself, and heads off.  He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon.  That stops him short.  He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now?  He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away.  The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time.  The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter.  “On it!” 

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart.  Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times.  “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion.  A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders.  He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind.  Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven.  The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work.  The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going.  He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree.  Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live.  MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim.  The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be.  Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel.  The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up.  Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet.  Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.  

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white.  He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool.  He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn.  He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up.  Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually.  The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers.  They seem new?  Why hasn’t he used them before?  How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he?  MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy.  It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right.  MK nods to himself.  Now, time to get Yin and Jin!  Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them.  He has to consider DBK’s size.  Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady?  He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut.  Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes.  But first, rest.

Right.  He needs to head back to his house.  Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon.  He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one.  MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays.  The spider demon isn’t easy to find.  He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will.  He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him.  Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing.  MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished.  It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch.  It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers.  He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes.  Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction.  The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver.  “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine.  Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes.  “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern.  He tilts his head to a side in confusion.  “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all.  He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway.  “I’m trying out some contacts.  Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits.  “But those look cool!”  

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade.  Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind.  Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory.  Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away.  He’s too cold for them.  

He needs contact.  

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade.  Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising.  Someone hurt his friend.  A demon?  A scan of the area reveals no such thing.  Just a mean person.  He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up.  He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town.  Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight.  When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough!  Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable.  He heads to his room and paces.  How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks.  Now, there’s an idea.  But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever.  Just until they know how to behave.  Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment.  Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it.  Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that.  Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out.  However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends.  This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair.  Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her.  He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember?  Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.  

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway.  Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to.  The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence.  He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right?  MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her.  She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back.  “Ooo, we’re rough, now?  Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all.  Huh.  His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot.  ��Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.” 

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle.  The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her.  MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down.  Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder.  MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard.  The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up.  “What’s the occasion?  Is there something new you wanted to teach me?  Is there a demon we have to fight?”  We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself.  Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun!  He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond.  Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week.  “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know?  And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him.  But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue.  “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left!  Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re?  Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch.  Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out.  It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all.  He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns.  He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine.  You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days.  Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.  

“Anyway, get some rest, bud.  You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off.  The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all.  But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans.  Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all.  He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city.  How it will look, when he’s done.  He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this.  So he sketches.  Pins the piece to the wall.  

Squints.  He doesn’t like it.  

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied.  But there is no time to waste.  So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture.  He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part.  Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder.  It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place.  He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects.  But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly.  He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure.  After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything.  There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure.  There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos.  MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums.  He wonders if they have statues, a shrine?  He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow.  MK listens in with interest.  What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him.  He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply.  “He barely knows you, and he’s young.  He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them.  The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders.  MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily.  “But, anyway, could you hold still?  This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually.  DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness.  “We are in your debt for helping save my husband.  However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues  “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire.  Volcanoes.  She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry.  But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles.  The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder.  Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ͪtͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there.  He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges. 

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground.  MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy!  What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son!  I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor.  Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him.  “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore.  You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks.  He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that.  He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts.  “But, I get it.  You don’t understand.  You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming.  For a moment, something rises within him.  

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.  

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency.  MK blinks, tries to remember where he is.  Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan.  He got them!  Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.  

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm.  It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him.  He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right.  Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously.  “What…happened to you?  You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts.  “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK.  What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest.  “I stopped all the bad guys!  See?” he gestures to them.  “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice.  Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion.  “Kid, how are you doing this?  Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand.  “And the-my head voice gave me the idea.  Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar.  “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains.  “It-it told me how to do it.  And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here?  He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in. 

“You shouldn’t have any deviations.  Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash.  “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.  

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever.  “I’m just fixing things, okay?  I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror.  “He’ll be fine!  It doesn’t hurt.  I’ve been freezing for ages!  It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal.  His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach.  His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it.  “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now.  Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point.  “It’s mine.”  Right?  Because Monkey King gave it to him.  Gifts can’t be taken back, right?  MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it.  ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud.  C’mon.” 

Another step forward.  MK grips the staff tighter.  

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!  

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong.  His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun.  It’s too soft to be true.  “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble.  MK’s eyes are wild.  

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it!  I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.  

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts.  Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder.  Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go!  Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected.  Why is everyone so terrified?  This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot.  MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart.  And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused.  He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard.  The ice is up to his chest.  “Get out of here.  Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over.  “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets.  Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets.  The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends.  They have to understand.  This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other.  The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.  

She groans, her bike suit torn.  He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt.  Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is.  Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places.  Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.  

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.  Are you alright?  Where does it hurt?  I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps.  He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.  

Gosh, humans.  They’re so annoying!  If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting.  MK nods.  

Right.  A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash.  It crawls over and into everything.  Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes.  He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice. 

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet.  With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops.  Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.  

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud.  “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading.  He just wants to do right.  Why don’t they understand?  Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy.  Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.  

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream.  At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises.  It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain.  Something warm and different and yet familiar stings.  Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!  If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.  

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else.  He doesn’t know who he is.  What’s right?  What’s wrong?  How can he tell?  

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.  

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat.  No, this isn’t right.  You froze good people.  Innocent people!  You froze Tang and Sandy!  You made Pigsy cry!  You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet.  Monkey King is notoriously stubborn.  He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet.  All you have to do is wait for them to come back.  And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.  

The voice sounds so self assured.  The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.  

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin.  He chokes on his own breath.  It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  

Everyone’s gone.  

He’s alone.  

This can’t be right.

It is.  You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands.  The need to do more, be more.  It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet.  He feels a hand brush his hair back.  He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.  

MK stands.  The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then!  Let’s get to work!”  

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages.  He doesn’t think he can.  He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue.  He has to fix that, it’s unsightly!  Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head.  It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel.  We’re going to do great things together.

[lastxviolet]

The Assistant - CH. 1

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

The Dark Mark.

Cloaked figures running, burning, torturing.

The threat of a second war.

Screaming.

A sharp train whistle brought Violet Wilkes back into her body on Platform 9 ¾, its sound tearing her mind away from the horrifying morning news in the Daily Prophet just last week. The moving pictures on the papers front page had barely left her thoughts, even now, as she was steps away from saying goodbye to her family for nearly a year, the dark mark burned behind her eyelids with every blink.

She walked ahead of her parents and little sister, weaving through the crowd of fawning mothers and sniffling siblings, towards the very last car in the line, dreading the long journey ahead more and more with every step.

For the past five years, she had seriously considered not returning to Hogwarts, solely because of the egregious train ride from London, and this year was no different, except for the pit in her stomach from the thought of noise, people, and confined space was joined by the fear of her family's hypothetical imminent doom at the hands of Death Eaters. Despite the fact that no one else shared her fears.

She'd told them all week that the events at the Quidditch World Cup weren't a fluke. No one conjured the most fearsome symbol in their world nearly thirteen years after its disappearance, by accident. It meant something.

A terrible something.

And now, she was leaving them. Defenseless.

Her father hadn't picked up his wand in nearly a decade, and her mother had no magical abilities to speak of. Her sister, Olivia, would surely be a powerful witch in the coming years but for now, she remained a timid ten-year-old. They hardly stood a chance without her. That was if the events last week were as dire and fearsome as she believed them to be.

Of all people, she thought her father would understand her worry but he insisted that it wasn't going to be like 'last time.' Even then, she'd made him swear that he would brush up on his spells and hexes just in case you-know-who had returned and picked up where he'd left off, targeting blood traitors and their families.

The train whistle cut through the commotion again and they sped up to make the 11:00 departure. She glanced down at her watch; 10:58.

If they hurried, she'd make it. But if they didn't, the train would mosey on without her. Not that she'd mind.

She looked around at her fellow hustling peers pouring into the train and exhaled sharply. What if she just stopped? Dropped to her knees and refused to move. Missed the train and begged her father to let her go to a muggle school as her mother had. Her fingers gripped the iron handrail in the vestibule of the final car, and she hesitated, ready to throw herself back onto the platform but deep down, she knew it was already too late. There was no avoiding the journey ahead.

Her sister launched into her arms, squeezing tight before her mother's arms replaced them around her neck. She kissed her father's cheek last, lingering on his kind, dark blue eyes, staring at their own mirrored pupils in her head. He pressed one more kiss onto her forehead before stepping back to wrap his arms around the other halves of her heart.

A blood-traitor.

How could anyone call him a blood traitor?

Easy, she thought. It was the same way her housemates called her a half-blood. With condescending smirks and dead eyes.

She turned to enter the car so they couldn't see the tear falling down her cheek and rushed to wipe it away before she came back into view through the last window.

Her sister called out a final time when the train began to slowly move away and a wave of dread constricted her lungs. The sound was too similar to the screams she heard in her nightmares nearly every night. Fog from her breath on the window obscured the final visible moments of her family's smiling faces and wildly waving arms as the platform disappeared from view.

11:00. As one torturous moment ended, another, 8-hour-long one, began. The ruckus of running feet, excited hello's, and sporadic spell work was instantaneous and completely impossible to ignore. She closed her eyes and tried to tune it out.

She couldn't conceive why a wizarding school would trust their unsupervised adolescent students to not blow each other up when muggle schools barely trusted their docile coeds to use the bathroom alone. Other people's happiness didn't normally give her such a headache but the lack of professor supervision provided no perimeters on her peer's ability to run amuck.

She felt her stomach flip with the swaying movement. Bile burned her throat, as the seat underneath her moved back and forth, rocking in a nauseating pattern. The noise, in combination with the repetitive piercing whistle and lurching wheels thudding through London, was dizzying.

Distraction. She needed a distraction.

Calloused leather brushed her hip, reminding her that she'd anticipated this very moment. She thanked her past self profusely and dug through the bag until the pebbly fabric of her favorite muggle book scratched her fingertips.

The deep blue hardcover still precariously clung to its title even after years of wear and tear, reading and rereading. She caressed the carved gold words with a shaky, anxious finger.

The Princess Bride

By William Goldman

It was a pity that the Hogwarts library didn't cater to muggle-born students, she thought. Even in Muggle Studies class, assigned readings were books about muggles, written by the magical beings that walked among them. Wizard writers were wonderful but their ability to write compelling fiction was limited when they can do the unthinkable with the mindless flick of a wand.

She flipped it open and paused to admire her mother's swirly signature on the dedication page before turning to the first chapter.

"I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm Boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard."

"I hear you now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only Westley. Until I die."

Eventually, the disorienting blur of houses, trees, and cars ceased— replaced by much more appealing, rolling hills and sprawling fields. The speed of the train was barely discernible as the scenery outside the window moved in slow motion, barely changing, monotonous and still, a comfort to her dizzy head.

She glanced towards the glass doors that were protecting her from the chaos throughout the halls and determined that the motion sickness and general discomfort had been suppressed. She took a deep breath and weighed the options for the second half of the trip. Stay, and finish the beloved book that lay open in her lap, or leave, and trade all peace for conversation.

Alone, but also lonely.

She'd probably missed loads of drama on the first half of the ride, and Sadie would surely be furious with her for being absent.

Sadie Baldock had plopped down next to her at the Slytherin table one random morning during her second week at Hogwarts. Happy to have some company, she'd let the energetic girl talk her ear off for the entire meal, not once interrupting or telling her to shut up, even though it would've been warranted. They'd been best friends ever since and she'd been an absolute treasure for the entirety of their past five years.

Despite Sadies strong personality and pension for gossip, she understood and accepted that Violet had no desire to be attached at the hip to anyone and gladly gave her space.

Alone and lonely, was much better than being suffocated, she thought. This had been her preference, even before she arrived at Hogwarts, and was sorted into Slytherin, her supposed 'family' away from home.

She scoffed and shook her head.

Family, yeah right.

Other houses might consider themselves family. Hers, however, felt more like a cage.

Families weren't supposed to be judgmental, at least not to the degree that her peers were. Families didn't shun disgraced peers for impure bloodlines or enforce generational loyalty without question. In recent years, the house had shed any sense of camaraderie left, even between those with pure-blood and ancient ties.

Due to this, tensions ran high and tempers were like time-bombs. It was exhausting to bite her tongue enough to remain cordial with most of the somewhat sane peers in her house and fly under the radar of the rest. She clenched her jaw, remembering Draco Malfoy and crew taunting her half-blood status and muggle mother.

Exhausting, but necessary, for self-preservation and peaceful existence. She occasionally betrayed herself with a viper-quick temper that was always simmering in her chest but most took it for stereotypical Slytherin nastiness, and not a haunting disdain for those who shared her green and silver uniform. This, a knack for potions and a morbidly dark wardrobe were perhaps the only evidence of a correct sorting.

Oh well, she thought. It was a bit late in her career to be considering a house change, besides, the sorting hat was a sod old brute who insisted that he was never wrong.

In actuality though, it wasn't all terrible. At least she had Sadie and the few other perks that came with the snake emblem.

The dungeons provided cool darkness that deprived the senses of any reason for restlessness and anxiety. Although the green uniform occasionally invited disapproving glances, it complimented her dark blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair much better than the blue and white of Ravenclaw, or heaven forbid the bright red Gryffindor insignia. And, she was only a few feet away from the potions classroom, where she'd managed to instate herself as one of the only students their head of house, Professor Severus Snape, did not actively hate. The bond had been painstakingly cultivated over the years the only that way he would allow; speaking when spoken to, correct answers, and perfect potions.

She stared out the window, focusing on the rolling hills, trying to let go of the gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that couldn't help but wonder if the hat had gotten it wrong.

Introspection was one of her biggest flaws. Sadie was constantly telling her to get out of her head and she knew that she was right. But, analysis always felt necessary, even about moments and emotions long gone. Sorting through every feeling, decision, movement; double-checking every second to make sure they were all accounted for, was compulsory.

Even now, six years later, she wondered whether she even truly belonged in Slytherin, and whether or not being sorted into the other houses would've been easier or even different at all. Would it have been better to be sorted into her father's Hufflepuff house?

Maybe, but unfortunately, when considering where to place her, the sorting hat had ignored her father and zeroed in on the countless other Wilkes before him, all in Slytherin, before deciding that she would be forced to pick up the lineage again. Not that any of them would ever know, or care.

She felt a shiver down her spine.

It was for the best that they hadn't any idea of her existence, let alone the continuation of their legacy.

She squeezed her eyes closed and the beautiful scenery outside dissolved into the Dark Mark behind her lids and the memory of photos she'd secretly found amongst her father's old school things. Photos of a boy, a few years older than her father, clad in green standing next to his younger brother in yellow and black.

A legacy, broken. A legacy, reborn.

She felt her heartbeat quicken and tried desperately to conjure the image of her sister, next year, with the sorting hat on her head, yelling any other house's name.

Screams from the next train car over tore her away from her thoughts. She jumped slightly and shook her head, glad for a distraction from the oncoming downward spiral. She'd forgotten where she was for a moment but another chorus of "no's" and laughter bursting through the door at the front of the cabin pulled her back to reality.

Pushing the doors apart slightly, she poked her head into the hall and moved to step out but voices stopped her. Loud, obnoxious, exuberant voices yelled something about "research" to an amused audience.

The Weasley twins.

Maybe the imminent doom she'd been worrying about wouldn't come at the hands of Death Eaters at all, but two idiotic and insufferable redheads instead.

She searched for an escape, eyes moving frantically, but her only option seemed to be a jump from the back door and onto the tracks below. Why hadn't she left to find Sadie when she'd had the chance?

Rolling her eyes as far back into her head as they would go, she sunk back down onto the bench and held her breath, hoping to miraculously turn invisible before the twins could sour her mood further.

"C'mon George, one last try," a voice belonging to Fred Weasley yelled over the last wave of students laughing and telling the twins to get lost.

She groaned, knowing that they were indeed coming for her. She couldn't think of a single time during her years at Hogwarts when she'd enjoyed the terroristic Weasley antics, but this moment was particularly ill-timed. Their talents for pranking were legendary and despite being in the same year, she'd never been a target or victim. But, it seemed as though her time had come.

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to find a single positive about the cursed situation. The nerves twisted her stomach into a knot while she listened to nearing footsteps. Maybe, if she played along and let them get it out of their system, they would leave quicker, and get back to ignoring her.

Another couple of torturous seconds crawled by before the twin who she thought might be George yanked open the cabin door.

She forced herself to breathe and tilted her head to meet them with a perturbed expression glued to her face; brows furrowed, lips pursed, and arms crossed. Every Slytherin instinct whispered in her ear to hex them back to London but the exhaustion from her emotional goodbye a few hours ago overwhelmed any anger left, resigning her to accept this fate without much of a fight.

"Well hello, Violet. Today is your lucky day."

She was right, the one coming in first was George Weasley. She recognized the two moles on the left side of his neck from Herbology last year when she'd fantasized about slashing his jugular when he wouldn't shut up.

He moved her feet from the bench opposite her, and she stared at him, noting that his slightly crooked nose also distinguished him from the brother coming in second. Once seated, they stared at her with intense brown eyes, and eager slack-jaw smiles —incredibly sharp features exaggerated by flowing radioactive red hair, waiting for an answer.

"Is that so?" she growled, conjuring a deadpan stare.

The twins straightened their chests and leaned forward simultaneously. "Yes, indeed," Fred said, the excitement in his face and voice completely unaffected by her cold response. "And we'll tell you why. George?"

"For a limited time only, you have the incredible opportunity to join us on an intellectual exploration," George explained. She shot him a disapproving glance before shifting back to Fred who was nodding fervently at his brother's side. "Groundbreaking research," he added, sensing her apprehension.

"I've never exactly thought of you two as intellectual," she sneered.

"Been thinking about us though?" George teased.

She cursed herself for the blush that formed instantly and shifted her gaze back to Fred who was still waiting anxiously to explain the situation.

"All you need to do is eat this delicious toffee," Fred said, producing a brown lump from his robe.

He shoved it towards her and unsuccessfully tried to hide the mischievous glint in his eye with a sweet smile.

She glared at him, remaining silent, unsure of what to say next. What were they trying to pull? And why did they think that she was going to fall for it this easily? Did they think she was stupid?

She narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore her bruised dignity. "You're joking," she drawled, earning fake looks of concern from both of the twins. "What makes you think I'm going to fall for that?"

Fred's long red hair covered his face slightly as he shook his head. "See this is where everyone keeps misunderstanding us, George."

George leaned across the small space between them. "Indeed Fred —Violet darling, clearly our offer is much too transparent to be a prank," he said, now a little too close for comfort. "This is product research for our business so please try and take it seriously."

She scowled at the pet name and leaned away. Why was he being so familiar with her?

Gryffindors. Always too friendly to be trusted. At least her fellow Slytherins never tried to hide their agenda, no matter how much their bluntness stung.

It was difficult to gauge how to best get rid of them. Their puppy dog eyes didn't seem to be affected by rudeness, if anything, it seemed to egg them on further. She decided to try another route instead, hoping to catch them off guard.

"Fine. In the spirit of transparency, say that I do eat it," she said. "What will happen to me?"

Their coy confidence turned to surprise. "It's only ever been tested on a Muggle so we have no clue," George confessed matter-o-factly. "Hence it being such a great research opportunity."

"You'd be a pioneer," Fred finished, a stupid confident grin returning to his face. "Maybe even a legend."

Violet looked down at Fred's outstretched arm and plucked the brown ball from his hand. She stared at it skeptically and brought it up to her nose. It smelled just like normal toffee, but no way it was that simple.

The twins exchanged a nervous glance and she could tell that they were holding their breath.

They most likely doubted her ability to take a joke and were probably nervous about the outcome of their prank, if she did indeed fall for it.

She couldn't blame them, of course. Last year, Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy's toadies, joked about her mother being a muggle during the Halloween feast, and nearly the whole school had witnessed her merciless rebuttal. She stifled a smile, remembering the look on his face when she'd stuck her wand in his mouth and said "Langlock." His friends had scrambled and scratched to open his mouth again and Madam Pomfrey had about reached her wits end trying to figure out how to separate his tongue from the roof of his mouth. She wondered if they'd been there for that, but the sudden hesitation in George's smile told her they were well aware of her short fuse.

Lucky for them though, she didn't have enough energy to fly off the handle today.

She slipped her wand out of her bag and touched the tip to the toffee, muttering a revealing charm. "Specialis Revelio."

The twins lunged forward to snatch their sweet back, but she was quicker.

"An engorgement charm?"

"That's cheating," Fred protested.

"What is this?"

They stared at her with a mixture of defeat and annoyance.

"It's a ton-tongue-toffee," George said grimly. "The newest product from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

She remembered him talking about his plans for a joke shop constantly in Herbology, while his gaggle of admiring Gryffindors hung onto every word but she never thought he could be serious about such a stupid career endeavor.

She frowned. "That's idiotic."

"That's the whole point," Fred snapped. "It would've been funny if you hadn't taken the easy way out."

"What would have been funny?" she countered, relishing in their sudden mood shift from smug to perturbed. "Me casting a counter-charm as soon as I felt my tongue swelling? I thought you two were supposed to be good at pranks."

She tried to hide her delight at the ability to get under their skin. Their presence was unwelcome but not as completely intolerable as she had expected, even as their cheerful nature and goofy grins faded, they were almost bearable.

Suddenly, she saw something dark shift over George's gaze. "Well then eat it, if you're so sure."

Violet's eyes widened, unprepared for the confident challenge. Irritation moved swiftly through her chest. She tried to hide her nerves and glanced down at the ball in her hand. It would be easier to tell them to leave, or even get up and walk away but she couldn't let a Weasley best her.

If living inside of her head was her first flaw, then pride was her second.

Her eyes bore holes into George's, and regardless of what happened next, his look of shock was prize enough as she popped the lump into her mouth. The toffee was a little warm and soft but not inedible, she wondered if their mother had made it.

Her mouth was fuzzy before she even swallowed, and as she had suspected, her tongue began to swell profusely. She poked the tip of her wand to her tongue as it flopped out of her mouth, nearly reaching twice its size.

"Reducio."

The twin's mouths dropped open in shock before they exchanged a curious glance. Even though the counter-charm came out with a slight lisp, as quick as it had happened, her mouth closed around her normal-sized tongue, the caramel-like taste of toffee on her lips all that remained of the prank.

She broke her staring contest with George and glanced back to Fred, but neither looked like they were going to say anything.

Arrogance replaced her irritation and she just couldn't hold back.

"Had you not thought of that?" She asked with a smug smile. "I hope none of your other products are so easily reversible. Who would want to buy something so temporary? Faulty merchandise is hardly a way to run a business."

They both stared at her in displeasure, but George looked more enraged than anything, not that she cared about hurting his feelings. This was turning out to be quite fun, she thought.

"Well, you've been a lovely assistant," Fred said, trying to quell the tension and clearly over the situation. "C'mon Georgie, finding someone less capable than Wilkes will be a snap."

George didn't budge. He just stared back at her, his brow furrowed, like he couldn't remember her name anymore. The thoughtful expression was freaking her out. She waited for him to return to the annoying ginger twat who had entered her cabin without permission but his expression didn't change.

His eyes searched hers for something but she couldn't tell what. She chanted 'fuck off' in her head, hoping that he could see the sentiment reflected in her eyes.

How odd, looking at them now, they weren't identical at all. While Fred seemed to operate as their crazy motor, George was something else…steering wheel maybe? Regardless, she was glad their exchange was coming to an end.

"What would you suggest then?" George inquired with a sneer, standing up to follow his brother out the door. "Since you're so smart."

As if she'd help them.

George loomed over her, blocking her view of anything else. She stared up at him defiantly, not letting his size intimidate her. The question lingered in the thick air between them, ringing in her ears over and over. Surprisingly, she did indeed have an answer to his inquiry, not that she was going to say anything. They didn't deserve her help, even if she could mask it as superiority. She waited for him to leave but he seemed just as content sitting in their tension as she was.

He smirked and that threw her over the edge.

Besting him in his expertise would be a satisfying final nail in the coffin and he'd asked for it. She didn't mind him this way, begging her to intellectually best him.

"Potions," she blurted.

She watched his eyes widen. "What?"

"Potions," she repeated wearily. "If you had used Swelling Solution, it wouldn't have been detectable by a revealing charm and no one would take the time to brew its antidote. Victims would be stuck with a fat tongue until the effects wore off, which, apparently, is funny."

It had meant to sound smug but it came out too much like she was tutoring him in earnest. He looked just as surprised at her tone as she was and stood up a little straighter, before reaching for the door. She glanced down at her hands, aware of his eyes still on her, and cursed the sincerity in her voice, hoping he wouldn't take it seriously or respond.

Thankfully, the door clicked shut and his footsteps disappeared down the hall, without another word. She sighed in relief and stuffed the book back into her bag to finally go find Sadie.

Violet shook the strange interaction with the Weasleys from her head and pushed through, packed train car, after packed train car before reaching the self-anointed 'Slytherin Only' door. Out of all the options on the train, her house had managed to claim the worst one. The tables and benches were much more uncomfortable than the stuffy cabins and the openness of the room made every ride a free-for-all.

The window fogged from her breath for a moment but through the sea of green, black, and silver, she could just make out the short, dark-haired girl she'd been looking for.

She wove through the room, focusing on Sadie's scowling face, at the back table. She followed the witch's death glare to a gaggle of girls surrounding Draco Malfoy across the room, holding up some Quidditch pamphlet that was somehow making them squeal. She pushed through a group of large boys lurking around a few older sixth years and successfully made it the length of the train without anyone trying to speak with her, or leer something hurtful, which was prone to happen.

"I was beginning to wonder if you even got on," Sadie said.

"Please, hold your applause," she responded, thankful to hear her friend's voice after months apart.

Sadie smirked knowingly. "Did you yak?"

Violet sat on the bench across from her. "Nope. Almost threw myself out of the window near Manchester though, when the Weasley twins raided my compartment."

She thought about recounting the entirety of the strange interaction but decided against it, as Sadie already seemed perturbed enough.

"Merlin, those spazzy gits never take a day off. We haven't even started the school year yet," she murmured. "Please tell me you unleashed your wrath on them."

Before she could answer, a chorus of ooh's and ahh's erupted from the show going on at the front table.

"Oi get a room or shut the hell up," Sadie yelled, earning her more than a few dirty looks around the room and an especially sour sneer from Malfoy himself.

"Shove off, Baldock," Malfoy sneered.

Normally, Violet would've laughed but she didn't particularly feel like drawing attention to herself today so she turned to avoid his gaze.

"I swear, those girls should be over that albino twat by now," she scowled, staring daggers into Malfoy's back.

"Not everyone has your refined taste Sades."

Her friend fell silent, gazing towards the blond boy dreamily. "Vi, do you think I could kill him? Snap him like a twig or something?"

She laughed and turned slightly, ensuring that Malfoy's ominous gaze was off of them. "Surely he deserves a more painful death than that."

She shifted in her seat to rest the side of her face against the window and smiled at Sadie's hearty, murderous cackle. The cool glass quelled any queasiness left as she watched the sunset over Scotland, signaling that the ride was almost over. Despite her surroundings and previous disposition, it was quite beautiful.

As she has suspected, Sadie recounted the first couple hours of the ride with impeccable detail. Pansy Parkinson had gotten an unfortunate haircut, Theodore Knott had gotten hotter over the summer, and Malfoy wouldn't shut up about the Quidditch World Cup.

Her mind snapped to the dark mark once again. Of course, the Malfoy's had been in attendance.

"He was there?" she whispered across the table.

"Of course he was. As if his family would miss an opportunity to show off to the whole world," Sadie said rolling her eyes.

"What did he say about it?"

"Just the usual. Father this, ministers box that. Gloating twat."

"Did he say anything about the ending…about the Dark Mark?"

Violet's ears rang.

A forgotten picture she'd stumbled upon in her father's abandoned school photo album flashed in her mind once more. Lucious Malfoy swinging his arm around her uncle, clad in Slytherin robes, a year before the war started. Their smiling faces were unburdened from what was yet to come.

The same Lucious Malfoy who was charged with being a Death Eater, but ultimately exonerated.

Sadie shrugged. "Just that he saw Potter running scared like a little girl," she said plainly before launching into the details of her summer. It was the same every year; she fought with her sisters and mother all summer long, and then cried like a baby while saying goodbye to them on the platform.

Violet attempted to tune her out and glanced at the cruel blonde.

This was the closest she'd been to him in nearly two years. Ever since Lucious had recognized her father on the platform, she'd taken every precaution to dodge him in every meal, class, or school event, in order to avoid the things that he knew about her.

The image of both Malfoy's smiles twitching smugly as Lucious recanted the Wilkes family history to his monstrous son on the train platform flashed in her mind. Her father had ushered the family away, uncaring of the secrets that would follow her to school and unwilling to speak about it.

She knew he knew, and even though he had every opportunity to tell the whole school, he didn't. Or rather, hadn't yet, like she knew he would someday. She could tell that he was waiting for the most opportune time by the way he said half-blood, and blood traitor instead of her name and the way his eyes were always just a little too confident when regarding her. The anticipation and fear seemed to be torture enough, for him. Surely though, it was only a matter of time.

His presence suddenly became too much. The thought of sharing a room with someone so amused by the ridicule of anyone who wasn't of pure-blood made the taste of bile claw up her throat.

"Sades," she interrupted her friend who was still animatedly speaking. "Wanna head back to mine and change?"

The dark-haired witch nodded and chattered on.

She led them both back down the train, breathing freely again among less threatening red, blue, and yellow students. She was relieved to have Sadie rambling at her side, yelling at first years in their way, and shoving leering seventh-year boys back into the cabins.

They finally reached the last car, and suddenly, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. A tall redhead was leaning against the wall outside of her cabin. He was staring down at his shoes and muttering something. She couldn't tell which one it was from this angle but had a hunch.

Two times in one day? She must be cursed.

Her stomach tangled itself once more with nerves. Maybe he'd come back to enact some cruel revenge on her, for thwarting his prank. She gripped Sadies hand a little tighter, thankful to have her as a backup if things went south. The sound of her footsteps made him finally lookup. She wasn't expecting the expressionless look on his face, and suddenly she doubted that he wanted to harm her at all.

Sadie saw him not a second later and pushed past her, letting go of her hand and yelling, "Bothering her once wasn't enough, you back for more Weasley?"

George's calm face suddenly contorted into panic as Sadie shoved past him and into the cabin. Violet didn't move, and stared at him from a few paces away, unsure of what he was doing if not pranking her.

She hadn't noticed his height earlier when they were sitting, but now that she stood in front of him, it was a shock to be eye level with his chest. Concealing her nervousness to the best of her ability, she met his eyes.

"What?" She said deadpan, hoping to convey his unwelcomeness as much as Sadie had.

He furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground for a moment, failing to hide a flustered blush.

"Sorry…erm — I thought I forgot something —talk to you later," he mumbled through a forced smile. The sudden change in demeanor was surprising. His attempt at confidence was oddly manufactured and she saw, for the first time, a glimmer of shyness.

Git. He probably needed his brother for backup.

Before she could say anything, he brushed past her and sped down the hall and out the door.

"What the bloody hell was that," Sadie said, scrunching her nose in annoyance. "Freaks, the lot of them."

Violet's stomach detangled itself and she turned to watch the floppy long hair retreat from view. She nodded in agreement but kept her mouth closed.

[stan-joonies]

Mine, Mine, Mine

Requested! Prompt:

26: "You're mine, i don't share,"

The girl grinned up at Sweet Pea when he threw a lazy arm carelessly around her shoulders. He was tapping something on his phone, playing with a piece of gum with his tongue. His hair curled across his tanned forehead and his towering frame covering her in warmth.

Toni rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely sickly. You're a bunch of lovesick puppies,"

She smirked.

"At least we haven't been caught licking at eachothers--"

"Woah, imma stop you there, mutt," Toni hissed, glaring up at her. She ignored it and just smirked.

"What? It's just me and you," she shoved a thumb back into her boyfriends chest. "Ever since he got the new phone he's been completely unresponsive," to prove her point, she dragged sharp nails from his chest down to his pelvis, then back up, a gesture that would usually make Sweet Pea shiver and drag her away, or at least blush. His eyes stuck glued to the screen, however, not even humming in acknowledgement .

"Bet you're regretting that purchase, aint you?"

Y/N shrugged. In all honesty, she didn't mind. Sweet Pea had originally had a flip phone, used only to take and recieve calls. Even then the only contacts was some of the serpent elders, Toni, Fangs, her and Jughead, albeit reluctantly. Sweet Pea claimed it didn't bother him, he barely used the internet anyway, but Y/N caught the longing glances Sweet Pea sent when they past electronic or apple stores. Y/N also noticed Sweet Pea's reluctance to pull out his phone infront of anyone. He always walked out the room or hid the phone, even when taking a text. So, Y/N worked hard leading up to his birthday and managed to buy him an iphone. It wasn't the newest model, but it wasn't in bad condition and it was brand new. Now, with more storage, he had flooded his phone with games and apps and pictures and videos. He was in love with that phone.

"Not really," she sighed, smiling up at him. "Love you, Pea,"

His eyes immediately broke away from the screen, blinking rapidly. He smirked, squeezing her closer and bowing his lips to the shell of her ear.

"Love you, too,"

The bell chose that moment to screech into their ears that it was time for class, with a kiss goodbye and a skip in her step, Y/N made her way to art, smiling happily.

-

Y/N preferred to sit near the back of the classroom because there was a window right next to her with the prettiest view. Trees and flowers swaying in the breeze, a couple leaves floating delicately down to the ground.

Today, though, someone sat in the seat next to her, which she found relatively odd. Most people tended to avoid her, terrified of her boyfriends famous temper.

When she walked up to the table, the boy smiled at her.

"You're Y/N?"

She hummed lightly, smiling back at him.

"Great! I'm Joseph, i just changed schools recently. Apparently you're the person to go to if i need help adjusting,"

Y/N inwardly sighed. At the beginning of her years at highschool, her goody-two-shoes self had sign up as a future "Hallway buddy". A job that basically allowed teachers to abandon their jobs as supervisors and shove it into the hands of willing, gullible new students.

She had tried to get out of it once she had to show a boy around, one who was more interested in picking up girls than the classrooms he needed to be in.

It was only then that the school informed her that if she wanted the extra credit, she had to continue into graduation. It was frustrating but she wasn't exactly the smartest so she needed it.

"That's me, nice to meet you," they shook hands, Joseph holding on slightly after she let go.

"Great, I'm not very socially...Im not very good with people so I'm glad you seem nice."

Y/N hummed in understanding.

"There are some annoying people you shouldn't get involved with. But I'm not gonna tell you who to and not to get involved with." She sat down next to him. "I just ask you don't believe everything you hear,"

"What? About the Serpents and the fact they're this cruel, bloodthirsty gang of emos?"

Y/N glared quickly.

"One of those serpents happens to be my boyfriend,"

Joseph tensed, straightening his back.

"Right, sorry,"

The lesson was spent in silence after that, Y/N focusing on the outside window.

When the bell announced their next lesson, she hurriedly collected her things, intent to leave before deflating.

She would have to show Joseph around either way, best get it over with.

She waited at the door, watching his glum face light up when he caught sight of her.

"Thank god," he sighed, smiling. "I was terrified I'd have to navigate the halls alone, worst fear."

She hummed, quickly manoeuvring through halls.

Joseph looked at her, tapping her meekly on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, about what i said about the Slytherins, i just...i normally stick with the crowd,"

"First off, they're called the Serpents, and if you actually wanna make friends...maybe you shouldn't just 'stick with the crowd'."

Joseph huffed, flushing.

"Right. And sorry, i had a harry Potter marathon last night."

Her eyebrow raised at the mention of her favourite movie.

"We might become really good friends," she muttered.

-

When it came to Lunch, Y/N took him to the cafeteria where they got their food. When they turned around, Y/N immediately caught sight of the group of leather clad teens. She was about to go towards them but stopped when she saw Joseph's ashen face.

"Joseph?" She questioned, noticing the hands clenching fearfully at the side of his tray.

"Sorry...i just...god..." he looked away.

Y/N groaned. Joseph had yet to make friends and so it was clear he was totally uncomfortable and self concious. She felt the weight of a familiar gaze on her and she looked away from Joseph to see Sweet Pea staring at her, brow raised, earning a decisive shrug in return .

Making up her mind, she balanced her tray with one hand, considerably harder than she thought before taking hold of Joseph's sweater.

"Come with me,"

They made their way to the Serpents, some glancing at her when she brought a random into the group.

"Hey, Toni, Fangs, Jug, Pea," she smiled down at them, smiling thankfully when Fangs took her tray and placed it near Sweet Pea,whom, once again, was concentrated on his phone. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, him humming slightly before he began to tap furiously at his phone. "This is Joseph, he's new. I was showing him around and thought it'd be nice for you all to meet him," she sat down, shoving Sweet Pea further up the table so Joseph had enough room to sit. Sweet Pea just grunted.

Joseph sat down stiffly, nodding at them all.

"Hello,"

He recieved echos of greeting. Y/N had a slight suspicion he wasn't just introverted. He seemed quite outgoing around her alone, waving his hand furiously and voice occasionally increasing past normal range. Yet as soon as they entered a classroom, all the colour he gained on his face was drained and he became unfortunately meek and cowered into himself.

"Joseph," Y/N muttered, wanting to vocalise her concerns "Do you have..."

"Social anxiety? Yeah," he laughed. "Really bad too. That's why i was so glad to be paired with you.

Sweet Pea's furious tapping stopped.

"Paired?" Toni questioned.

Joseph grinned.

"I'm paired up with her in art and we discovered we have pretty much every class together,"

Sweet Pea's eyes rose from the screen.

"It was a relief honestly! I would be completely lost otherwise!" The blonde scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit her picked up as a child. "She practically had to lead me by the hand, i looked quite pathetic, honestly!"

Sweet Pea slid his phone into his pocket.

"I'm sure you would've of been just fine, you're a lovely boy, Joseph. People will be eating you up--"

Suddenly, a heavy weight pressed down her shoulders and she found herself squished into Sweet Pea's side, his mouth kissing the crown of her head.

"Sweet Pea?" She looked up at him, frowning at the swirl of emotions peeking out behind dark clouds of brown. The table was completely forgotten. Y/N trusted Toni to pick up the conversation from there.

"Hmm," he burried his face into her neck, taking a deep breath in, tensing when he smelt deodorant. "What? Why do you smell of mint?" He wouldn't admit he missed the flowery, sweet scent she was usually accompanied with.

"Oh! Joseph let me borrow his, turns out we have PE together too! I ran out of mine last week," she flashed a grin.

"You could've told me, i would've brought you some more. They're only cheap," he mumbled into her ear, growling when Y/N laughed lightly.

"You don't need to get Jealous, Pea. Honest. I like the tall, dark and handsome type anyway,"

His lips came brushed against her ear slowly, kissing it gently.

"You're mine, i don't share,"

"And you don't, I'm yours just like you're mine,"

Sweet Pea growled playfully, biting her neck briefly

"Who said i was yours?"

Y/N scowled, her hand coming up to rest at his throat, forcing his head down so her mouth was at his jaw. She bit lightly at the skin, a difficult task.

"I said so, big boy,"

She squeezed his throat lightly, Sweet Pea shivering, before turning back to the table, taking notice that Sweet Pea didn't reach for his phone once.

[jaxsteamblog]

Ice Queen

Click here to read the full fic on AO3!

After the borders were tacked down, and things returned slowly back to normal, the mundane aspects of life started to bubble back up. Thuy was off with her group, still working on the brand new world that opened in seemingly random points around the world. The Earth Empire was restructuring, a delightful task full of awkward meetings and forgotten names on Katara’s end, and so they were all expecting new ambassadors.

Zuko had to return to the palace for that. They had discussed for days what to do about Izumi, wondering what the best course of action was. Katara decided to meet her appointment in the new central palace in Republic City, figuring that Izumi could more easily spend time with her father should the need arise.

Not that they could figure out what was going on with their five-year-old since the news broke.

“Auntie!” Kya bellowed as she ran through the wide entry hall. Her small voice bounced off the cool marble and echoed in the empty space. Sokka and Suki followed; Sokka’s arm was thrown nervously over Suki’s shoulders.

“Hello dear one.” Katara murmured as Kya ran into her, putting her small arms around Katara’s hips. Her niece was the spitting image of Sokka, with only the faint reddish hue in her hair linking her to Suki. It made her heart ache sometimes, seeing the South Pole face and saying her mother’s name.

It was in these moments that she was relieved Kya had been born first, securing Sokka’s claim to the name.

“Can we practice now?” Kya asked excitedly.

“Don’t you want to see Izumi?” Katara asked curiously, too quick to think.

Kya’s face smoothed and she stepped back.

“Oh. Right. Sure.” She said and darted past Katara into the palace.

“She’s been really excited about this trip.” Suki said, looking after her daughter’s retreating form.

“Should we really be doing all this formal stuff so soon?” Sokka interjected and Suki sighed heavily.

“She’s a Waterbender. Everyone knows it and they’re asking questions.” Katara answered.

“I seem to recall someone being extremely pissed off about forced expectations and public announcements.” Sokka countered.

Katara gave him a stern look but he didn’t budge.

“I’m not taking her away or anything. She’ll just have to come for training sometimes, which of course means you both will be staying.” Katara glanced over at Suki, who smiled. “And if she chooses not to be my heir later on, then we figure something else out. It’s up to her.”

“How is Izumi taking it?” Suki asked.

Katara looked back over her shoulder, as if her daughter would appear.

“Zuko thinks she’s a late bloomer, but I know. I don’t know if that makes things worse or not.” She said and then sighed, turning back. “She’s not really talking about it.”

“And Lu Ten?” Suki inquired.

“He’s definitely a Firebender, but no fire yet. Which is a blessing I think.” Katara shook her head and shrugged.

“We’re doing the best we can.” She added.

“You think this would be easy, since we saved the world twice.” Sokka muttered.

“It is what it is.” Katara said, waving her hand in an attempt to dispel the lingering mood. “I’ve got some tea waiting.”

Kya, having forgotten her earlier disappointment, ran screaming through the halls with Izumi, two Swamp Tribe children, and a North Pole boy. Katara kept her amusement to herself as she watched the flinching security guards as something crashed in their earpieces. With the carnage, she assumed the younger brother of the Swamp Tribe matriarch was babysitting this time.

“So I assume I’m keeping my appointment?” Sokka asked as he plucked a red bean bun from the platter. Now deeply in their thirties, Katara had hoped he would stop eating like a child but half of the bun was shoved unceremoniously into his mouth.

“Nepotism at its finest.” Katara said as an answer. “No one else really wanted to go, seeing how Zuko spends most of his time here and the Prime Minister is kind of…”

“Dull.” Suki finished for her and Katara pointed back at her.

“I really liked that other guy.” Sokka said, taking a drink from his mug.

“Sato? Very nice man. His son Hiroshi always played so well with Izumi. Maybe next time.” Katara said and sat back. The banality relaxed her, and she wished her work would go no further than this. “I’ve finalized my schedule with Dong-Lee and dad, and nothing has really changed.” Katara continued.

“Still ignoring him?” Sokka asked.

“I’m not ignoring him.” Katara snapped. “I just think he needs to spend a little more time at the South Pole. With the people he actually represents.”

“Malina really isn't all that bad.” Sokka said and Katara glared at him. He responded by shoving the other half of the bun into his mouth.

“Look, the point is, the Earth Empire has finally selected their ambassador and he’s arriving tomorrow. There’s going to be a big, fancy dinner and I’ll introduce Kya as my heir.” Katara said.

“So where’s dad?” Sokka asked, his mouth still mostly full.

Katara slammed a hand on the table. “This isn’t about dad!”

“He’s on the triumvirate.” Suki said gently.

“And I am the head.” Katara retorted. Shaking her head, she deflated. “He’s flying up this evening. I figured he would’ve told you.”

“We haven’t caught up in a bit. Did you see what’s happening in the news right now?” Sokka replied and Katara snorted. For weeks there had been almost nothing talked about that wasn’t related to the spirits.

A knock at the door made them all turn.

“Come in.” Katara called. The door opened and a guard poked her head in.

“Excuse me, your Majesty, but Prince Lu Ten has woken up from his nap.” She said.

Sokka jumped up, shoving the back of Suki’s chair as he moved.

“Hey!” Suki exclaimed with a laugh. “You can’t monopolize all of the baby time!”

“Those freaky twins aren’t here, so I’m taking what I can get.” Sokka yelled back, sliding past the flustered guard to run into the hall.

After everyone was unpacked, and had a proper lunch, Sokka and Suki took Izumi and Lu Ten out into the gardens for a walk. Katara and Kya then made their way down to the practice grounds. The talk of her dad and growing stress of the next few days weighed on Katara and she hoped that this moment with her niece would cheer her.

The sun was shining, and it was a crisp day that she cherished in the early spring. The sea was a few miles away from the palace, but the building was situated atop a bending made hill so Katara could see ripples of blue-gray between the skyscrapers. A particularly strong breeze would occasionally bring the scent of salt water to her doorstep.

Kya held Katara’s hand as they walked over the small footbridge to the flat square. The training ground was covered in soft gravel and bordered by channels of water. It was a place they could all practice together, though more recently it was used to smooth out Toph’s plans for her new sport.

“Auntie?” Kya asked as they walked onto the gravel.

“Yes dear?”

“Is Uncle going to teach Izumi firebending?”

Anxiety plucked at a tendon in the back of Katara’s neck.

“Izumi isn’t a Firebender, sweetie.”

“Uncle says you don’t know yet.”

“Well…” Katara drifted, letting go of Kya’s hand and looking off into the empty air. “Your uncle didn’t have a strong spark at Izumi’s age, but he still had one. Izumi doesn’t, and that’s okay.”

“But how do you know? Is it because you’re a Waterbender?”

“I think so.”

“Will you teach me?”

“In time.”

“Auntie?”

“Yes dear?”

“Who taught you waterbending?”

Katara’s entire neck spasmed and her shoulders shot up to her ears. Muttering nonsense under her breath, she called some of the water from the channels and smoothed out the knots in her muscles.

Kya, her mother, had been there when Katara found her first instructor. It was Kya’s blood that Katara used in her final test with Hama.

“An elder taught me.” Katara said, using a truth to blur the unsaid horror. “She lives in a village somewhere in the South Pole now.”

It went against everything she had ever been taught to even consider killing Hama. Revenge took more than it gave, and Hama was not only an elder, but the only other South Pole Waterbender alive. She had returned Hama to the South Pole under heavy guard and with charms a Kyoshi Warrior had picked up from a guru in the Earth Kingdom. Hama had promised no further violence, being overcome with the promise of going home. She did not return to her village, to Katara’s village, but she was taken back home.

Kya had been buried at the prison, with hopes that she would be returned as well.

They were still waiting.

“Auntie?” Kya asked cautiously.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Katara said brightly. “Did you say something?”

“Were you thinking about the war?” Kya asked and Katara flinched.

“Why do you say that?” She questioned.

“Papa looks like that too sometimes.” Kya answered.

“I’m fine sweetie.” Katara forced a smile and juggled three balls made of water. “Ready to practice?”

They practiced for a couple of hours before Kya inevitably got tired and asked to get a drink. By then, Sokka and Suki returned and Katara had to finish business of her own. Dong-Lee, the Swamp Tribe matriarch, was waiting for her with a dense looking folder.

The afternoon wound down that way, with Sokka making a call to Zuko about their next meeting. Suki took charge of all the children currently in the palace, telling stories and generally keeping the chaos relegated to one room. By dinner, most of them had calmed. Just in time for Hakoda to arrive.

Although completely expected, Katara still grumbled as Malina stepped into the main hall.

“Gran-Gran!” Kya and Izumi both yelled and Malina knelt down to hug them both.

“You’re going to pull something Tara.” Sokka said, keeping his voice low, and patting her upper back firmly.

“Shut up.” Katara grumbled, idly twisting the anchor bead of one hair loop.

“Oh look-” Sokka started just as Katara registered the third figure coming into view.

“Bato!” Katara said, her voice amplified by surprise.

Bato dropped his shoulder bag and strode forward, his arms open. Katara met him and they embraced each other tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Katara asked as they stepped apart.

“Can I not come pay homage to my queen?” Bato said with feigned shock. Katara laughed and swatted at him.

“If your father insists on sending me all over the frozen blue yonder doing his dirty work, I deserve the perk of visiting the High Queen in her fancy new palace in Republic City.” He explained.

“Good to see you Bato.” Sokka said and the two men hugged with the same type of loving force.

“Young man, fatherhood looks good on you.” Bato said, holding the back of Sokka’s head and pressing their foreheads together.

Sokka smiled, his eyes squeezing shut and a pin prick of water poked out the corner.

“Is Zuko not here?” Hakoda asked from behind them.

“His court is in session to approve the new Earth Empire ambassador.” Sokka said, moving off to the side. He stood between Katara and Malina, but that still put her in Hakoda’s line of sight.

“Daddy is going to bring me a present when he comes back.” Izumi interjected and Hakoda chuckled as he bent down.

“Oh is he now? I guess I better give you my present first!” He huffed as he stood up, swinging Izumi into the air.

“How are you Katara?” Malina asked softly. Katara watched her father carry Izumi, with Kya hopping at his side.

“I’m fine.” She said tersely and started walking. “Dinner is nearly ready.”

“That was ice cold.” Sokka said, jogging up to walk with her. Katara snapped sharply, sending sparks of frost into the air.

“Don’t you forget it.” She retorted.

“It’s okay that she’s not mom.” Sokka said.

“No Sokka, it’s not.” Katara replied, her words clipped short.

Despite their political positions, they took their dinner in the private family room, away from the other tribal members. Even with the separation, politics still dominated the table conversation.

“Who is the Fire Nation sending out?” Bato asked. Katara settled in her chair with Lu Ten wriggling in her lap. He had begun refusing the high chair, but was still too small for a booster. So Katara had to feed him while her own food cooled just out of reach.

“Zuko has made his appointments but the ministers have to approve them as well. I like the lady he sent to Ba Sing Se though, so I don’t see that changing.” She replied.

“Ugh, remember the ambassador last year? What a piece of work.” Sokka grunted, reaching over to cut Kya’s food. She fussed, insisting that she could do it herself, while Izumi smiled demurely with her chopsticks in hand. The mixed menu was always a struggle, and Izumi was leaning more toward Fire Nation fare while Kya was used to the knives and spoons of the South Pole.

“Who is going from us to Ba Sing Se?” Malina asked, of no one in particular.

“I have always wanted to do some proper travelling.” Bato said. “More than just the horrible marching in the war.”

“That might be pushing it.” Katara said. “Dong-Lee’s sister is going to Ba Sing Se, and I’m sending Hahn to Omashu.”

“HAHN?” Sokka cut hard and the knife in his hand went skidding across the plate. With a huff, Kya pulled her plate back and started sawing the meat with her own knife.

“Two ambassadors?” Suki asked.

“Omashu is the largest seat of power in the south, and it makes sense to have people in both places. Kuei won’t let the Fire Nation send more than one though.” Katara said.

“But why Hahn?” Sokka demanded.

“He’s grown up a lot, Sokka.” Katara said, sounding tired. “And no one could accuse me of favoritism since you hate his guts.”

“Fine.” Sokka said forcefully. Suki leaned over and rubbed his upper back.

“Paw-Paw, look what Auntie taught me!” Kya said suddenly. Everyone looked just as Kya levitated the tea from her cup, pushing it high above her head.

“Careful!” Katara warned.

“Mo-om! Kya shouldn’t play with her food!” Izumi said.

“I’m not playing, it’s waterbending.” Kya stated.

“That’s very nice Kya.” Hakoda said carefully. “But let’s make sure not to drop it.”

“I won’t!” Kya fussed.

“Even if I do-” Sokka took a finger and moved it toward Kya. “This?”

Cold tea fell on Kya’s head, causing her to burst into tears and Izumi started pummeling Sokka’s arm.

“Izumi! We don’t hit!” Katara jostled Lu Ten, who was still eating peacefully, as she tried to get up.

“Don’t be mean to Kya!” Izumi yelled while Sokka chuckled. Suki bit her trembling lip as she used her napkin to mop up as much tea as she could.

“That’s enough!” Katara said, keeping one hand on Lu Ten - who was starting to fuss - and using the other to bend away the tea.

“Izumi, go to your room!” Katara said.

“Katara, it’s fine.” Sokka said.

“Don’t tell me how to parent!” She snapped.

Sokka leaned back, holding up his hand.

Izumi, sniffling, stomped out of the room.

“I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Kya murmured.

“You didn’t.” Katara sighed.

“Kat, how about I take Lu Ten so you can eat?” Hakoda, suddenly at her side, asked.

Katara whirled around, grabbing hold of Lu Ten with both hands.

“I certainly don’t need your help.” She said sharply.

Hakoda’s eyes went hard but he didn’t move.

“I raised two children, Katara, I know what I’m doing.” He said.

“When? When mom was still alive and Gran-Gran lived with us? Or after you went off to fight, taking mom with you and leaving us behind? Or was it after mom died and you decided to stay in the North Pole to court a new woman?” Katara shot back. “Because it certainly seems like Gran-Gran raised two more children after you abandoned yours.”

“And where’s your husband then? He’s not here to raise them himself.” Hakoda said darkly.

“Zuko is the Fire Lord! And, if you really want to get technical about it, dad, he’s a five hour flight from here to the middle of the spirits be-damned palace!” Katara shouted. “Now sit down before I decide to make Bato the new chief of the South Pole and kick you out of my home.”

Turning on her heel, Katara shifted Lu Ten onto her hip and walked out the dining room. Ice crunched under her feet, grinding into her soles like diamonds. Goosebumps rippled on Lu Ten’s arms and Katara let out a worried breath as she moved down the hall to the bedrooms.

“I’m sorry baby-boo.” She whispered, kissing Lu Ten’s chubby cheek. “Let’s go call daddy.”

Katara grabbed a phone and went into Izumi’s room, letting her talk to Zuko first. Izumi immediately related what had happened at dinner, telling him all about Katara’s unfairness and tyrannical rule. Then, letting Izumi go back to dinner, Katara stayed in her daughter’s bedroom, letting Lu Ten play on the floor beside her while she talked.

“So what else happened?” Zuko asked.

“I got into a fight with my dad.” Katara answered.

“I know all about that.” Zuko said and she snorted.

“I just don’t get him.” Katara said with a sigh.

“Well of course. You lived with him for the first six of years of your life, while only being conscious of it for two, three years tops. Then he went off to fight when he was younger than you are now. He came back to his children being adults, and one of them bonded to the ocean spirit.” Zuko replied. Katara patted Lu Ten’s diapered backside while she listened. They were nearly done potty training, but it was a busy time and accidents happen. Lu Ten grumbled at the attention, pushing himself up to rummage through Izumi’s things.

“So you’re saying I should just forgive him?” Katara asked.

“I am the last person to ask about forgiving fathers.” Zuko quipped. “But more I’m just trying to break through your stubborn insistence to be mad at him.”

“I want to be mad at him?”

“Yes.”

“Zuko!”

“Katara, you know this. We’ve talked about it in therapy. If you feel like you’re justified in being mad at someone, it means you can get away with being mean to them.” Zuko replied calmly.

“I do have a right to be mad!” Katara countered.

“I agree. But do you think Dr. Matsuzawa would think you’re handling this in a healthy and loving manner?” He questioned.

“Mmmmm.” Katara rolled her discontent in the back of her throat. Lu Ten repeated the noise, bouncing up and down as he did.

“Let’s talk about Izumi.” Zuko said, his tone shifting.

“What do you mean?” Katara asked.

“You don’t normally blow up at the kids.” He clarified.

“Yeah.” The pit of her stomach twisted, shooting sour bile into her throat.

Zuko kept quiet, giving her space to process her words.

“I’m just worried about her.” Katara said.

“Why?”

“Why?” She repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah, why are you worried about her? Has she said anything?” Zuko asked.

“Well, no. Not yet.” Katara admitted.

“Izumi and Kya adore each other. I don’t think she’s jealous.” Zuko said.

“I don’t know.” Katara said.

“Are you jealous?” Zuko questioned gently.

Katara sat up, her stomach wrenching horribly.

“What?” She asked.

Zuko didn’t reply right away, but sighed.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you about this, and now probably isn’t the best time to bring it up.”  He said.

“Well you brought it up!” Katara said sharply.

“Katara.”

“You think I’m jealous that Sokka had a Waterbender and I didn’t?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? You’re weird about Kya.”

“How am I weird about her?”

“You nearly never say her name!” Zuko stated. “Maybe you’re not jealous but maybe you want Izumi to be, so you can have an excuse.”

“How can you say that?” Katara gasped.

“Katara, this isn’t an accusation. I think you’re hurting, a lot. The spirit world thing got us away from it all, but now we’re back. And there’s a little girl named after your mom, needing to learn waterbending, when you don’t really have the best experiences in your own instruction.” Zuko explained carefully. “I went through something similar with my firebending.”

“Zuko…” Katara whispered. Her throat tightened as her nose went numb and started to run.

“I’m coming home.” Zuko said softly.

“No, Zuko, you have things to do.” Katara said.

“I’ve already approved the ambassador, the ministers can handle the next part.” Zuko said dismissively.

“You can’t keep running from the palace. It’s pissing a lot of people off.” Katara said, sniffing and rubbing her weeping eyes with the heel of her hand.

“So what? What are they gonna do, depose me? None of these governors want to go up against me, my father is rattling around in a prison, Azula is quite happy in rehab, and Iroh is convalescent. Unless they want to go on a search for Ursa on their own, they’ve got no one to replace me.” Zuko scoffed. “Plus, Thuy likes me.”

“Having the Avatar in your pocket sure is handy.” Katara murmured.

“Thuy?” Lu Ten chirped, tottling back with his arms full of Izumi’s dolls. He held out one hand, dropping most of the dolls, and reached for the phone.

“Thuy?” He repeated and Katara laughed.

“It’s daddy.” She said.

“Daddy!” Lu Ten said excitedly, dropping all the dolls, and starting to bounce again.

“May I talk to my beloved youngest child?” Zuko asked. Katara laughed again and handed the phone over. Lu Ten took it with both hands, pressing it to the side of his face. A couple of the buttons beeped.

“Daddy coming home?” Lu Ten asked. Pushing herself back to lean against Izumi’s bed, Katara watched as Lu Ten babbled into the phone.

She wasn’t looking forward to their time apart.

With the call done, Katara gave Lu Ten a bath and put him to bed. Assigning a guard to act as a baby monitor, she then went in search of Izumi.

The residential wing of the palace was small compared to the rooms she kept in the North Pole and in the Fire Nation, but it was still much bigger than what she had grown up with. Being back in Republic City, Katara almost wondered if she was expecting her old college dorm. She hadn’t even returned to the campus, though they were certainly bothering her about it, but her mind kept returning to the uniform, beige buildings, relics of the war.

This palace was made with snow white marble, iron colored lumber from the Fire Nation, and miles of Omashu crystal to remind her of ice. The rooms were a mix of styles, some with low furniture and some with the more modern style of ornate desks and heavy pieces meant to be dusted, not moved.

Going through the rooms on the main floor, Katara found them all empty.

Not wanting to try the other bedrooms, she descended into the basement. This was the space Sokka had designed, and sure enough, it was where everyone important was hiding.

Sokka had built a pillow fort in the theater, a trail of popcorn leading to the draped blankets. An animated movie Katara vaguely remembered played on the large screen and she could hear both Izumi and Kya giggling. Deciding to leave them to it, Katara retreated.

With Zuko’s flight still hours away, Katara puttered around. She made more tea, put on a hoodie, and meandered out to the main courtyard to look at the stars. The sky was different here than the North Pole, and neither was at all like the sky in the South Pole.

Pulling her legs up higher on the lounge chair, Katara reached underneath for a folded blanket. She often spent nights out here and the staff was good about leaving cushions and blankets about for her. Folding herself over the arm was difficult with her tea in her other hand and Katara strained to reach.

“Let me.” A man’s voice said and the mug left her grip.

“Thanks.” She muttered, leaning further over and finally grabbing the blanket. As her hand folded over the fabric, the voice registered, and Katara looked down while she spread the blanket over her legs.

“Here you go.” Bato said, handing back her mug. Katara took it, holding it in her lap with both hands wrapped around it.

“Did you come to scold me?” Katara asked.

“You’re a grown woman.” Bato said with a grunt, sitting down in the grass beside her. “I want to make sure you still know your stars.”

Tilting her head back, Katara gazed at the stars.

“I’d rather you scold me.” She groaned.

“Really?”

“No.”

“I’ve already yelled at Hakoda.”

Katara rolled her head to the side to look at Bato, but he was still looking up at the sky himself.

“At dad?” She asked.

“You weren’t totally wrong Katara. He wasn’t around, even if he hated being away from you and Sokka, it doesn’t change the truth. Trying to pretend that he was still a dad is his way of telling you that he didn’t want to leave in the first place.” Bato explained. “But it doesn’t fix anything.”

“But I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Katara admitted.

“Sure, but where do you think you got your temper? It wasn’t your mother.” Bato scoffed.

“I never asked you about her.” Katara said softly, rolling onto her side to look at him better.

“Sokka did, but I wasn’t sure you would.” He replied.

“Will you tell me?” Katara asked.

“Of course.”

~

Banging rattled the thin door frame and Bato jolted upright, still tangled in his blankets and furs. As the banging continued, he clawed his way to freedom and shoved his arms back into the longjohns he was wearing. Moving from his bedroom in the back, he paused for a moment to put his feet into his unlaced boots before heading to the front door.

He yanked the shuttering door open, swearing in the bright summer sun.

“May you and your namesakes drown for a thousand cycles.” Bato growled.

“Oh come on Bato, too much sleep is bad for your health!” Hakoda said briskly.

“Did Kanna kick you out again?” Bato asked. He moved sleepily back to his bedroom, letting Hakoda close the door and follow. Kicking off his shoes, Bato began picking through the pile next to his bed while Hakoda leaned in the open door frame.

“She was up late for a birth.” Hakoda said, avoiding the truth.  Bato found his pants, pulled them on, and then searched for his parka. When he found it, he shook it out sharply.

“Is Kya up yet?” Bato inquired, pulling the parka over his head.

“That’s why I’m getting you. You know her father hates me.” Hakoda said.

Bato straightened his parka and avoided his friend’s gaze.

He couldn’t put into words what his life was like at the time. His parents had died last winter when there was another outbreak of tuberculosis. There were relatives he could have stayed with, or even gone to live with Hakoda and Kanna. Instead he chose to stay in his family’s house. They weren’t adults yet, but life on the ice and a blockade cutting them off from the rest of the world, it wasn’t like there was enough room for a childhood.

Hakoda was trying, and so was Kya. They had grown up together; all of the children in the village had grown up together, but it was different for the three of them. Bato had known they all loved each other, but two summers ago, he found out that Hakoda loved Kya differently, and it made him feel strange.

But it was difficult not to love Kya, in one form or another.

Bato punished Hakoda by forcing him to wait as he got ready. Bato dressed properly, shaved, and put together a meager breakfast. Ever the spoiled one, Hakoda bemoaned the bland food, which got Bato in for whatever Kanna had bubbling away on her stove that day.

Being back at Kanna’s wasted another hour and finally, finally, they were out on their own.

Bato was sent to get Kya and he grinned weakly under her father’s glare. Whatever he had against Hakoda, Bato was sure it was both misunderstood and completely deserved.

“Ah Bato, I wish we were children again.” Kya said, hanging off of his shoulder. “I miss penguin sledding.”

“You know, I think there’s an old canoe out back of my house. My dad and I were supposed to mend it this summer.” Bato said.

“We can’t go fishing in a broken canoe.” Hakoda stated.

“But we might be able to go sledding.” Bato countered.

The sledding worked, but somehow Hakoda decided that what they really ought to do was hitch a polar bear dog to the sled and really get going. Figuring they wouldn’t even get close to a den, Bato agreed.

This resulted in them running full-tilt through the snow away from a pack of polar bear pups with their milk teeth still in.

Wanting to hide their injuries, Hakoda then decided it would be a good idea to sift through Kanna’s unguents while she was sleeping.

That turned into Hakoda and Bato being temporarily blinded and Kya laughing so hard she fell into a slush pit at the coast line.

From there, they all piled into Bato’s bathroom, sectioning off the shower stall for Kya while he and Hakoda squeezed into the tub.

The room was covered in clean, but cracked, white tile squares. Steam filled the space, making their vision foggy even after clearing away the odd unguents.

This was the pair he had done his ice dodging with. All of their parents had been alive and watched proudly as they completed the ritual. Hakoda was the brave, Kya was the wise, and he was the trusted. It felt like their fate had been sealed then, and Bato relaxed into the grip of it. When Hakoda’s father died in a fishing accident, he went right back into the sea to make sure he was taking care of his mother. Kya always knew how to draw Bato out when he was pulling away. It was how they would always be.

“What do you think will happen in the future?” Bato asked, watching the steam curl within itself.

“How far are we talking?” Hakoda asked in reply.

“Ten years.” Bato answered.

“Hopefully this war will be over.” Kya remarked. The sound of the water hitting her skin sounded different than the tile. It was a sound Bato hadn’t heard in his house for many months.

“I hope to have children.” Hakoda said.

“Oh?” Kya intoned, turning off the faucets. She stayed behind her curtain, and Bato heard the splash of water as she wrung out her hair.

Hakoda looked away and Bato chuckled.

“What if the war is still going on?” Bato asked.

“Well, we’ll have to fight in it I suppose.” Kya said dreamily.

“How do you figure?” Hakoda asked sharply, sitting up so quickly the water sloshed over the side.

“If you want to have children, you���re okay raising them in a world like this? Where we can’t even trade up north anymore for fresh food?” Kya asked. “No one’s buying our fish, the Waterbenders have already gone off to fight and none of them have come back, and we don’t even have a local hospital.”

“But there’s so much to lose if we enlist. There’s no guarantee it’ll turn out in our favor.” Hakoda said.

“And here I thought you earned the mark of the brave.” Kya chided.

“So are you not having children until the war is done?” Bato asked.

“I think if I married the right man, I’d have to win a war for my children.” She answered.

Hakoda, sinking back into the tub, sighed happily with a smile.

~

Katara looked at the cold remains of her tea as Bato’s words swirled in her head. She didn’t see any of her mother in Malina, and she couldn’t work out if that made her happy or not. Perhaps Malina was the type of woman Kya would have picked out for Hakoda herself, someone to comfort him, not challenge him.

“Losing Kya is different for your father and me. We all got separated, so I keep thinking Kya’s just waiting in an Earth Kingdom city somewhere, waiting for us to find her.” Bato added.

“I know where she is.” Katara murmured.

“I know. And it kills me that you do.” Bato said. “Your mother didn’t deserve any of this. She deserved to see her children grow up and to meet her grandchildren. She shouldn’t have a namesake yet.”

“So what about dad?” Katara asked.

“Hakoda deserves peace. If you hadn’t gone through what you did, I would say he deserves to reunite with his children and live comfortably to grow old and fat. But you also deserve a father not blunted by years of imprisonment.” Bato shook his head, now looking at the ground. “You both deserve better but there is no substitution.”

Briefly, Katara thought about Noriko, but banished the seed before it could plant itself in her mind.

“What do I do then?” She questioned.

“My advice? Start over. Your father is a good man, and he loves you very much. We went away because we really thought we were going to protect you, to save you. He never wants to be far from you.” Bato said.

“Then why does he only ever stay with Malina? He was barely in the South Pole until I ordered him to go back.” Katara said sharply, her anger returning faster than she expected.

“You were supposed to be in the North Pole more than you were, remember? But someone decided they were better off traveling with the Avatar, or hiding out in the Fire Nation. Places your father couldn’t easily get to.” Bato said. “And how often did you want to see Malina when you were home?”

“Mmmm.” Katara grumbled, assenting to his point.

“Zuko is coming, correct?” Bato asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be glad to see him again. I haven’t had the chance to really talk to him.” Bato stood and stretched his back. Katara could hear the succession of pops from his joints.

“I think you’ll like him.” Katara said.

“Really? The son of the man who slaughtered my people? Who kept medicine from our village and killed my parents? You think I’ll like the Fire Lord, hmm?” Bato asked casually. Katara sat up, alarmed, and tried to see Bato’s face in the dark.

“Most of all, Katara, I think you need to understand just how much Hakoda is willing to deal with because of how much he loves you.” Bato said. “I hear that your husband is a good man, and I trust that you wouldn’t marry an evil person. But we have suffered differently, you and I. And I don’t have love to help me forgive as easily.”

Without another word, Bato turned and walked back to the palace, leaving Katara alone in the dark. Revenge was not sought in their tribe. Harming another person meant weakening the community. But there was still the matter of justice. Bato would not hold Zuko accountable for the sins of his father, but politics changed things. Katara understood that, and she understood Bato knew the difference as well. His hostility toward the Fire Lord was not the neutral friendliness he used to talk about her husband.

Hakoda had only ever fought with her about politics when he learned of her relationship with Zuko.

Heading back inside herself, Katara went straight to her private rooms. She showered and took extra care with her routine, wasting more of her time before Zuko arrived. Brushing out her hair, Katara’s shoulders sank seeing the wide swaths of black in her normal brown. The past two years had been exhausting beyond a physical way and had tapped into her spiritual reserves. So much had changed, but there was still that feeling of loss over what had been left behind or broken.

Very similar to how she felt at the end of the war.

While smoothing lotion into her arms and legs, Katara took a moment to examine the scars. She remembered Zuko’s fingers tracing them years ago, his pale skin somehow paler than the raised lines on her body.

Standing in the mirror, Katara saw the other scars that sank into her body. The stretch marks that rippled over her stomach and down her thighs. Ebony threads were like embroidery over her dark skin making no pattern but beautiful still.

Pulling on a robe, Katara tied the belt and walked silently to the bed. Purple sheets, made of silk to protect her hair and cool to the touch. There were places in the midlands of the Earth Empire that considered purple dye to belong to the royals. Apparently King Bumi was fond of it, mixing it with the typical green attire of Earth Kingdom citizens.

Katara just loved the blend of red and blue.

Sliding into bed, she shivered as her damp and lotioned legs brushed against the sheets. Tucking herself in, Katara shuddered deeply once and then relaxed. She thought for a moment that she was jealous, but not about Sokka or Kya specifically. Katara had hated everything she and Zuko had to go through in order to even have this place. She hated the schedule and the weeks away from her children and husband, or missing just Zuko.

If the world hadn’t been placed in peril yet again, they may never have won this small victory in the first place.

So in a way, Katara was bitter that she hadn’t earned any sort of simple ending. Her father, Sokka, even Thuy were uncomplicated by their relationships. Either no one was high enough or, as it was for Thuy, the Avatar was someone who could simply do whatever they wished.

A life where she graduated from medical school, became a doctor, and lived with her little family back in the South Pole would never happen. Instead, she had to worry about her daughter’s inheritance, take on her niece as her heir, and run three different nations while also sitting as the lady of another ruler.

And Thuy. Of course, she always had a duty to her Avatar.

Picking up her phone, Katara scrolled through the messages to see if there was any update from Zuko. The flight app showed his plane still in the air, but near enough to Republic City. With almost a decade of ruling as a monarch, her social media was limited, but it was still nice to see what her friends were up to.

Jinora’s daughter Bumi was in elementary school and had bonded with her Sky Bison. Ikki had adopted another flying lemur, bringing her total up to four. Meelo, while not specifically posting about it, was still living near the rehab center where Azula was staying. He was actually incredibly helpful, despite the strange stories Rohan had told her. Meelo seemed to care a lot about Azula and brought his trained, monastic calmness with him when he visited her.

Rohan was on radio silence, again, as they were doing something mysterious out at the Eastern Air Temple.

Thuy’s new account for “the family” was called The Dream Tweem, tweaking the pronunciation of Thuy’s name for the pun. It made Katara snort every time she saw it.

The Dream Tweem was heading to a remote village tucked somewhere in the Xishaan mountains. Jae-hwan, despite his numerous trips with Thuy, was still not a fan of the cold and there were plenty of pictures of him dealing with snow.

Just as Katara was flicking through the album, she got a video call.

“Good evening Auntie!” Thuy said cheerfully.

“Is that Lady Katara?” Suzu’s voice came from behind Thuy and Katara watched her push her shoulder back.

“The kids are in bed!” Thuy said sharply.

“You’re lying!” Suzu retorted and shoved Thuy’s face aside. Katara laughed as she watched the excitement drain from Sula’s face.

“Hello Fire Lady.” Suzu said sadly.

“I’m sorry Suzu, had I known Thuy was going to call, I’d have collected the children.”

“It’s fine.” Suzu replied, dragging the last word out on a sigh while she slunk of view.

“Have you met the ambassador yet?” Thuy asked, her face returning to the screen.

“He comes in tomorrow.” Katara said, shaking her head.

“Oh, Zuko got his then right?”

“Blazes, how can you just call him that?” Zula asked.

“Because my parents weren’t crazy Fire Nation royalists?” Thuy asked, annoyed and confused.

“Are you talking to Auntie?” Jae-hwan came from over Thuy, pushing down on her head.

“Auntie, it’s cold!” He whined.

“I’m not you’re Auntie.” Katara said. “And your mother would lose her mind if she heard you whine like that.”

“Don’t tell mom.” Jae-hwan said quickly.

“I have Toph on speed dial.” Katara warned.

Thuy shoved Jae-hwan off her and sat up, looking at him offscreen.

“You know, sifu says you can’t be cold if you’re practicing.” She said and then laughed as Jae-hwan made an unseen gesture.

“Am I going to hear from Aktuk or Tashi?” Katara asked.

“They’ve gone on ahead to scout since they can handle the cold better.” Thuy said.

“Excuse me?” Zula interjected and Thuy rolled her eyes.

“My apologies madam inner fire.” She said sarcastically.

“Did you call for a reason Thuy?” Katara asked.

“Oh, right. I was wondering if you’ve done any more research on the energybending thing. Tashi and I were talking about it, after that spirit debacle, but we don’t know if we should try again.” Thuy said.

Katara was silent for a moment and Thuy was also still, looking perfectly innocent.

“Where in the mountains are you going Thuy?” She asked.

“A village.”

“What village?”

“A…. mountainous one?”

“Thuy, are you looking for the guardians?”

“Okay so, remember, you can’t really tell me what to do anymore now that I’m a fully awakened Avatar!”

“Thuy! We were all going to go once Iroh recovered!”

“I am so close Auntie! Tashi and I feel really good about this one.” Thuy began but stopped as Katara sat up.

“We don’t know anything about the lion turtles. It could be dangerous!” Katara said.

“Mister Whiskers isn’t even freaking out a little.” Thuy said, trying to calm her down.

“That’s probably because she’s brumating, let’s be real.” Jae-hwan muttered.

“Oh, big word from the street urchin.” Suzu said with what passed for friendly mocking between them.

“I am a Beifong you horrendous little bit-” Jae-hwan’s voice was cut off as Thuy stepped away.

“Are any of you taking this seriously?” Katara asked.

“Auntie, we just came off a world saving mission. We know the stakes. I don’t think anyone else expects to find anything, so they’re doing, whatever. But Tashi and I can feel something out here.” Thuy said.

“Well, don’t poke around there for too long. We’ll go to Ember Island this summer. You and I already know something is out there and we can go as a family.” Katara urged gently.

Thuy smiled and nodded.

“You know, my parents are getting kind of jealous.” She said.

Katara’s breath slowed from the coincidence.

“Oh?” She asked.

“It’s not a big deal, considering how we view family in the Swamp. But it is weird for them to have me be so distant.” Thuy said.

“Comes with being the Avatar I suppose.” Katara agreed.

“We all have things to deal with. Good thing they had other kids.” Thuy said jokingly.

Remembering what Bato said about substitutions, Katara stayed quiet.

“We won’t stay long. I promise.” Thuy said, taking her silence as a reproach.

“Be safe.” Katara said.

“We will Auntie. I love you.” Thuy said.

“I love you. Give the others my love as well.” Katara said.

“Of course Auntie. Good night!” Thuy said.

Before she ended the call, Katara could hear the chorus of other voices wishing her goodnight.

Laying back, Katara held her phone to her chest.

Thuy called her Auntie, but she had become more like a little sister. Thuy had picked her from the very beginning and nothing over the years could change her mind. From every bad mood to times of no communication, Thuy never wavered in her loyalty to Katara.

Her family was such a complex thing.

Katara found a video channel about an unseen man who made knives from all sorts of materials. Hours in, and in the middle of a video about making a knife from smoke, her bedroom door opened slowly.

“Katara?” Zuko called out softly.

Half-asleep, Katara roused and sat up. Her body was warmer now and her robe slipped off one shoulder from her movement. Zuko paused as he stepped in, light burning in his palm.

“Well.” He said with enough interest that Katara felt her pulse quicken. She laughed and straightened out her robe.

“Oh don’t go through the trouble on my account.” Zuko said, walking to the bed.

“Did you just get in?” Katara asked.

Zuko extinguished his flame as he put a knee on the bed, propelling himself into her arms.

“Yes. I went to check on the children first.” He said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into the dip of her shoulder.

“Are they asleep?” She asked. She felt him begin to untie the belt and she chuckled.

“They were when I left.” Zuko said, sitting back now to properly attend the knot.

“I thought we were going to have a big talk.” Katara said as Zuko loosened the knot and undid the belt. He slid his hands through the small gap of the robe and around to her waist.

“You distracted me.” He said.

“By sitting here?” Katara asked and giggled as Zuko pulled her closer.

“Exactly. You know how beautiful you are, how dare you be visible when we have serious things to discuss?”

“You’re impossible.” There was laughter in her voice and Katara knew Zuko was smiling in the dark.

“I’m not sitting here flaunting such allure as if it weren’t enough to declare war.”

“War, sir?”

“War, my lady, and while I shall put up an earnest fight,” Zuko moved her, laying her back down as he straddled her and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I do believe you will best me yet again.”

“Oh but darling,” Katara said demurely, her fingers plucking at his belt buckle. “You may certainly try.”

And while she wished for light to see him, there had been enough years between them that she knew his body by heart.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74

[skateboarding-poet]

This is a scene from a fic that I was working on at some point but, after looking through it recently, I realised that this is the only scene I like out of the whole thing. So have this random scene from a fic I'm never gonna finish! :D

TW: mentions of physical violence, implied anxiety

Please tell me if I missed anything regarding the warnings.

***

Kumon could never forget the nauseous feeling in his stomach caused by the neverending wave of anxiety and questions that left him restless, or the way his head started spinning whenever he looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was 11 PM, way past the time Juza usually came back from school, and his brother wasn't home. He wasn't answering any of his calls, either.

Why in the world was he so late? Did something happen?

He could never forget how his mother would come out of her room every once in a while, to check if her son came home. She would silently lean on the kitchen counter for a few minutes, arms crossed and fingers tapping nervously, in an attempt to drum some of her own anxiety away. Neither of them were able to say a word. Instead, they looked at the clock and hoped.

...Should they go out and look for him?

"Mom, it's late,” Kumon said, with a voice that didn’t sound quite like his own. ”You have an early shift tomorrow. Please go and try to get some rest. When he comes back, I'll let you know."

His words managed to get a small smile from his mother. It was a little strained and tired, but she appreciated her son looking out for her too. "Don't you also have school tomorrow?" she asked with a small smirk on her face, hoping her comment would lift up the mood at least a little bit.

It didn’t.

She quietly headed to her room, only to come back fifteen minutes later and repeat her actions from before as if she was stuck in a weird loop. Kumon couldn’t blame her. He would pace around the house himself if he could, but his brain decided that being glued to the stool in the kitchen would be a much better option.

His mother stopped coming out of her room around midnight. Kumon hoped it was because she finally fell asleep. He understood how his mother felt, but she had work the next day. In comparison, Kumon could stay in the kitchen and wait for his brother for weeks if needed.

He hoped he wouldn’t need to, though.

He hoped to hear the apartment door opening, followed by his brother's usual, quiet "I'm home". Unfortunately, the only thing he could hear was the steady ticking of the clock in the kitchen.

The more attention he payed to the ticking, the more nervous he got. Weren’t constant and steady sounds meant to help with anxiety, not worsen it?

Or maybe the uneasiness came from the clock making him more aware of the passage of time? Or maybe because every tick seemed to only get louder and louder?

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

Was Juza okay? Was he hurt? Maybe he should go outside and look for him.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

What if he was beaten up and left unconscious somewhere?

No, his brother was strong and he could defend himself. No one would be able to beat him!

...Right?

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

Kumon put one hand on his cheek. His whole face was starting to get warmer. His breath started getting caught into his throat at every little sound. He put his head in his hands while letting out a tired groan.

He managed to stay awake until 2 AM, when he finally heard the usual creak of the apartment door, followed by the sound of it closing again.

A few seconds passed, and Juza was standing in front of Kumon. He had multiple forming bruises and cuts on his face and arms, but none of them were as bad as the forming black eye that stood out the most.

Kumon opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a small gasp.

"Why are you awake?" Juza asked.

"I, uh... I was waiting for you," was all Kumon managed to say.

Juza averted his eyes like he usually did when he felt guilty and mumbled a "shouldn't have".

Without saying anything else, Kumon got up from the chair he was sitting in and went to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. His legs felt a little numb, and he almost tripped and dropped the kit on his way back to the kitchen.

Kumon offered to help his brother patch himself up. It was the first time he was doing something like that, and yet why did he feel so bad for not knowing what he was doing?

Was it because he wanted to do more than that? Or was it because he failed to do the only thing he could do?

His memory was hazy and his mind was a mess. All he could remember was how he messily wrapped the bandage he had around Juza’s right wrist, and how his brother took it off and put it on again more properly, without saying anything. Or how Juza winched when his brother tried to clean one of the cuts on Juza’s cheek, right under his left eye.

Kumon sighed in frustration, catching his brother's attention.

"Nii-chan..."

Juza wasn't looking at him, but Kumon knew he was waiting, ready to listen to whatever he wanted to say.

"...Nii-chan, I love you," Kumon said firmly.

He always listened to Kumon, without fail. Maybe that thought was what pushed him to say those words.

Juza's eyes opened wide as his gaze shifted onto his brother.

Were there any words better than those to say in that moment? Maybe. But the way Juza smiled at Kumon told him that his message got across.

His only failure that night was the poorly applied bandages.

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapters 3/? | 12k words | Ao3

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: I was pondering whether I should leave the dance recital for later or just go with it and I decided that I had no idea how else could this third chapter go, so here it is! I hope you'll like it and as always I wanted to thank you so so much for all the love and kind words :') They all make my heart melt and make me actually excited (even though still anxious) about posting next chapters :') Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, liked or reblogged this fic, it means the world to me ♥

I was worried this one is going to be shorter but I've added some last minute Natasha content because who doesn't love Natasha content? I certainly do. Enjoy and see you all next time ♥

.

Chapter 3 

(4.4k words)

Bucky is nervous. It feels almost as if he is the one who’s going to dance in front of all those people in less than an hour. Although he thinks it would be less anxiety-inducing than watching Alex's performance. It’s not like he doesn’t believe in her. If there’s one thing that Bucky is sure of, it’s that his daughter is talented and brilliant and that she’s going to be amazing. He just knows how important it is to her, so he wants everything to go perfectly. Which is why in the last two minutes he has sent at least four messages to Clint to make sure he won't be late. 

Each time Clint told him to fuck off and not be a dick. There’s still over thirty minutes left before the recital starts and objectively Bucky knows Clint would never miss something that’s so important to Alex. It doesn’t stop him from worrying, though.

With a sigh, he slides his phone into his back pocket and looks around the lobby. Not that many people are around yet and Bucky is not that surprised. Besides the parents, there are rarely any other people coming to those things. Sometimes not even all the parents do. Alex probably has the biggest support group even on the smallest events. And Bucky doesn’t even need to drag anyone forcefully. They’re just lucky enough to have plenty of supportive friends in their life and thinking about it makes Bucky really emotional sometimes.

The door opens and Bucky’s eyes skip that way automatically. The man that walks in is tall and blond-haired, dressed in an old-school brown leather jacket and a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck. He hovers by the door for a few moments and looks a bit lost, scanning the lobby.

“Steve?” Bucky says and the man’s head turns towards him quickly.

When Steve's eyes land on Bucky, a big smile blooms on his face.

“Bucky, hi!” Steve says, walking over to him.

“You came.” Bucky points out with a smile. Steve made it clear on a few occasions that he will, but actually seeing him here is still a bit of a surprise.

“Of course. Didn’t want to let Alex down. Or you, but mostly her,” the sincerity in his voice warms Bucky’s heart. Steve rubs at his neck in a nervous gesture and reaches to his messenger bag. “I’ve actually— You’ve said how important to her it was so I— I’ve made a little something for her, I hope that’s OK?”

Surprised, Bucky looks down and sees that Steve is holding an open folder. Inside, there’s a drawing made with coloured pencils and when Bucky sees it his breath catches.

It shows Alexandra in full ballerina gear, with a big fluffy tutu and a little tiara on her head. There’s a huge smile on her face and her eyes are sparkling in the spotlights. She’s caught mid-pirouette. Even though it’s just a drawing, it’s so dynamic Bucky half expects her to start twirling across the page. Around her there is a confetti of musical notes and roses being thrown her way, some of them scattered on the stage in front of her. It’s so beautiful Bucky’s fingers twitch forward to touch the drawing but he quickly catches himself.

“God, Steve—” he starts but he has no idea what to say next.

“I just— I don’t know, I wanted to have a little gift for her? The dancers are given flowers after their performances, but I— I don’t know, I can just—,” Steve mumbles.

When Bucky finally tears his eyes away from the drawing, he notices that Steve has an honest to God blush on his cheeks and he’s still rubbing his neck in that nervous gesture. A sudden urge to wrap this amazing, kind man in a hug overwhelms Bucky. He manages to stop himself. Instead, he puts his hand on Steve’s bicep and squeezes lightly.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t even— My god, it’s amazing. Alex will go crazy when she sees it. I bet she’s gonna make me hang it somewhere,” Bucky lets out a chuckle. “And I’ll gladly do that, it’s really wonderful.”

A shy smile appears on Steve’s face as he closes the folder and carefully tucks it into his bag. “It’s nothing, just a little drawing.”

“Maybe for you but she’s gonna be over the moon. And I can’t believe that you really came and did this drawing and— You’re amazing, Steve.”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks only deepens. He looks down, refusing to look into Bucky’s eyes and he opens his mouth to say something.

But before he gets the chance, there’s some commotion on the other side of the lobby. When Bucky looks that way, he sees Clint and Scott arguing about something, the former holding a phone in front of his face. Walking calmly behind them are Hope and Cassie, both with similar tired yet fond expressions on their faces.

“Hi guys, you’ve made it!” Bucky greets them with a smile.

“We did! Clint kept rushing us cause apparently you’ve been bugging him for the last hour not to be late,” Hope says giving Bucky an one-armed hug. 

“I—,” Bucky stutters. “It wasn’t an hour. Besides I wouldn’t if I knew he was picking you up.”

“Of course it was an hour and of course you would, Barnes. Don’t lie and pretend you're not a crazy person,” Clint says, looking up from the phone. 

Clint’s eyes skip from Bucky to Steve, who moved half a step back and is watching the commotion with a polite smile on his face. When Clint looks back at Bucky, he wiggles his eyebrows with an awful smile. 

Bucky never wanted to smack him so badly. 

“You won’t introduce us?” Clint asks.

Sending him one last hateful look, Bucky glances at Steve, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Here’s Scott, his fiancee Hope and his daughter Cassie. And this idiot is Clint, sorry about him. Guys, this is Steve, a… friend, we’ve met recently.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Steve says with a smile.

“Wait, what Steve? How is James making friends, I didn’t know he could do that?” comes a voice from Clint’s phone, making Bucky groan.

“We’re just as surprised, Nat.”

Clint turns his phone around, showing the screen with Natasha’s slightly glitchy face on it. She quickly scans the new surroundings and her eyebrows shoot up when she notices Steve.

“Oh hello,” she greets with a signature Natasha smile, kind but slightly wolfish and possibly intimidating to strangers. "I'm Natasha."

“Um.” Steve sends a confused glance Bucky’s way, but says. “Nice to meet you too, Natasha. I’m Steve, the new friend. Apparently that's an achievement for Bucky.”

If Bucky felt sympathetic for Steve for being ambushed by his friends, he’s not anymore. Instead, he groans again and ignores the small smirk that Steve sends him and Natasha’s “I like this one!”.

“Can you all just shut up and proceed to the hall, please?” Bucky gestures towards the door across the room. “Since we’re all here already and the show is going to start soon we can as well take our seats already.”

When they don't move, Bucky ushers them forward, waving his arms as if they were a flock of chickens. Sometimes it feels like they are. Eventually, they do move and Bucky sends a small smile towards Steve who hangs back waiting for him.

"So, um—," Steve starts, looking at the small group in front of them before glancing back at Bucky. "Your wife couldn't come?"

Steve's voice is conversational so he seems surprised when Bucky halts to a stop.

"I'm—” Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. "I don't have a wife."

"Oh." Steve looks both confused and embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, I didn't— I just assumed, since Alex mentioned her mum a lot and— sorry."

"Oh no, Bucky's single," Scott says, apparently hearing the little exchange.

"And desperately ready to mingle," Clint prompts helpfully, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

It feels like Bucky has been doing nothing but groaning in distress during the past few minutes. "I'm not desperate—"

"I'm the mum!" comes Natasha's chipper voice from Clint's video call and he kindly turns the phone around. "Not the wife, though. James's too insufferable as anything but a friend. And likes men too much for that."

"Tasha, for fuck's sake," Bucky says loudly, getting a dirty look from some random mum who overhears him.

He pointedly doesn't look at Steve throughout this whole exchange. Why do his friends hate him so much? He doesn't deserve to be treated like this.

"Can we just—" Bucky takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, "not talk about this and to the performance, please. It's starting soon."

It's Hope who stops this madness and decides not to ignore Bucky's obvious discomfort. With a smile directed at both Steve and Bucky, she takes Scott by his elbow and turns him around, pushing Clint slightly towards the hall. They don't object. Bucky has never been more grateful for her.

It's not until a few minutes later when they are all seated in the hall, surrounded by the quiet murmur of different conversations before the show, when Steve leans closer from his seat next to Bucky's.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Steve says quietly.

Bucky chances a look at him. The lightning is dim but the distance between them is small enough for Bucky to make out the dark blush dusting Steve's cheeks.

"It's not your fault my friends are idiots," Bucky jokes to lighten the mood. "Should've worn ya' before I've invited you."

Steve laughs at that. "Still, though. Shouldn't have just assumed things."

"It was a perfectly normal assumption to make." Bucky points out. "Really, don't stress about it. It's all good."

For a moment, Steve doesn't look convinced but eventually he nods and smiles. Bucky reciprocates the gesture. For a moment they just look at each other but their attention is soon drawn towards the front of the room. Some more lights above the stage appear when the owner of the studio walks in with a smile, asking everyone to take a seat. Her introductions are pretty standard and she keeps them short. Soon enough, the main show begins.

It’s really entertaining, even considering the fact that the age of the performers varies between 4 and 12 years old. They’re dancing in many configurations, the smallest dancers mostly in big groups and Bucky smiles the whole time, watching their — sometimes still clumsy but oh so cheery — dancing. Two of the oldest kids perform an amazing pas de deux to the music from Sleeping Beauty. They dance to a lot of contemporary music and loads of Disney songs, to Steve’s great delight. Bucky only shakes his head with a disbelieving smile when he hears Steve singing along to A Whole New World under his breath. Feeling Bucky’s eyes on him, Steve only shrugs and laughs quietly.

Alex is in two group dances and she has her own solo performance. She’s brilliant in all of them. And it’s not just Bucky’s biased opinions, because the hall erupts in loud applause when she finishes her solo with a bow and a huge smile on her face. Watching the concentration on her face, mixed with the absolute joy of dancing makes Bucky teary-eyed and by the end of her last performance he doesn’t even try to stop the tears. All the pride he feels, threatens to tear him apart. He would be the proudest even if she sucked but the fact that she manages to awe everyone in the room makes it all so much better.

After the recital is over, some of the guests leave to wait in the lobby but Bucky and his friends stick around in the hall, moving closer to the stage. Soon enough, Alex bolts from backstage, still in her dress and everything and launches herself into Bucky’s arms.

“You were incredible, my love!" Bucky says, hugging her tight and kissing the side of her face. “I’m so proud of you! You made me cry real tears, you were so beautiful.”

“Thanks, papa,” Alex laughs, leaning away a bit to look at him, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Soon enough, she gets whipped away from Bucky’s embrace by Clint who starts spinning her around the room, both of them shrieking loudly. They earn some disapproving looks by doing that, but they couldn’t care less. Bucky only watches them with a fond smile, laughing and getting emotional again when Alexandra notices the huge bouquet they’ve bought just for her. She talks briefly with Natasha - the video conference was on during the whole performance so even though Nat couldn’t be here in person, she could still watch the whole thing. Natasha apologises for not being there but promises to make it to the next recital that is supposed to happen around New Year’s Eve and she points out how proud she is every two words.

Bucky lets everybody congratulate his little girl and shower her with the love she deserves. He’ll have plenty of time to do that at home. So he takes a step back and stands next to Steve.

Steve, who waits politely, probably not wanting to interrupt as he just watches it all with a smile on his face. But when Alex’s eyes finally land on him, matching big smiles bloom on both of their faces.

“Steve! You came!” Alex exclaims, bouncing closer to where Steve and Bucky are standing.

“Of course I did,” Steve says and he crouches to be on Alex’s eye level. “You were incredible! Thank you so much for inviting me, it was so worth it. And I have a little gift for you.”

Hearing that, Alex starts bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and she watches as Steve retrieves the drawing. The moment her eyes land on it, she lets out a small gasp. Just like Bucky did before, she moves her hand as if she wants to touch it but stops, afraid to ruin it. When she looks up at Steve, her eyes seem a little watery.

“It’s for me?” she asks and when Steve nods, she carefully takes it from his hands. “I love it! Thank you so much, Steve!”

With that, she wraps her small arms around Steve’s neck. The movement catches Steve off guard, almost enough to make him lose his balance and Bucky laughs at the surprised look Steve sends him.

“You’re so welcome, Alexandra,” Steve says eventually, rubbing her back. “I’m happy you like it. Thank you again for inviting me.”

“Papa, look!” Alex yells, moving away from Steve and proudly showing Bucky the drawing. “It’s me!”

“It is!” Bucky agrees, hugging her close one more time. “It's my wonderful little ballerina!"

***

After the performance, they all decide to go to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Steve tries to flee but both Clint and Hope — which comes out as a bit of surprise to Bucky — nag him to join them. He sends a look at Bucky, probably hoping Bucky's gonna back him up.

He doesn't. Instead, both he and Alex send Steve their best puppy dog eyes saying that they'll love if Steve came along. Steve is not able to resist such power.

Bucky's not sure why he insists so hard on Steve coming with them, not really knowing what to expect. It turns out he had nothing to worry about. Steve fits right in with their little group. The evening is very nice and they all feel comfortable in each other's company. Bucky's a bit afraid at the beginning, when Clint starts asking some pretty nosy questions and is being his horrible self. Everyone except Steve has gotten used to it and they know that Clint is the best friend one can have but for some reason, he sometimes hides it quite well. But Steve doesn’t seem to be judging or getting annoyed in any way. Quite the opposite. It also turns out that under all of Steve’s gold-heartedness hides a little asshole with witty comebacks and good-natured jabs at whoever tries to mess with him. He can totally keep up with whatever Clint’s up to at any given moment.

It's enough to say that Clint absolutely loves it.

They don’t stay at the restaurant for too long. They can’t since Alex is tired after all of today’s excitement. She tries very hard to hide it, though. Fortunately for her, Bucky knows her better and he saves her from crossing the line between happy and miserably exhausted. No matter how nice the evening is going so far, they should go. So for the sake of Alex’s pride, Bucky says he’s getting tired and the two of them are probably going to head home. It's not even a lie. Considering he's only 29 and it's not even 10 p.m. it's kind of sad that he really does feel a bit sleepy. Alex tries to protest but it’s weak, which only proves Bucky’s assessment of her energy levels was correct. Of course, everyone else jumps to their feet almost immediately. They exchange hugs and thank-you’s and more congratulations for Alexandra and finally some goodbye’s as they all go in different directions. 

The short walk home wakes Alex up a bit. And because it's still her big night, Bucky lets her stay up for a little longer than usually when they finally get home. They cuddle on the couch and watch How to Train Your Dragon together, while sharing a bowl of ice cream. Of course their private little celebrations can’t start until the drawing from Steve is safely put away in Alex's room with promises that Bucky will hang it tomorrow.

About halfway through the movie Alex drifts off to sleep, curled safely on Bucky's lap. He takes a few extra minutes stroking her hair, trying not to think too much about how big she's getting or that soon she won't be so happy about cuddling with her papa anymore. Eventually, Bucky picks her up gently and carries her to her room. He finishes the movie and gets himself an extra scoop of ice cream before he heads to bed.

The next morning Alex almost drags him out of bed, rushes him through breakfast and almost pushes him out of the door. All that because he promised they're gonna shop for things they need to put the portrait from Steve on the wall. Bucky is not even mad. It is a gorgeous piece of art and he's really happy that Alex is so thrilled with it.

A few hours, some drilling and vacuuming tons of dust later, he snaps a picture of the drawing hanging proudly on the wall above the chest of drawers in Alex's bed. He attaches it to a message.

To: Steve Guess who got bullied into an IKEA trip at 10 in the morning on a Saturday just to buy a frame? Saturday, 12:30 A.M.

From: Steve Sorry? :) Saturday, 12:31 A.M.

From: Steve I'm honoured she likes it so much, though. Saturday, 12:32 A.M.

To: Steve I bet you're not sorry at all, you jump out of buildings for fun, you can't be trusted. Saturday, 12:37 A.M.

From: Steve I did NOT jump out of a building, stop saying that! And what happened to "you're amazing, Steve"? Saturday, 12:40 A.M.

To: Steve ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Saturday, 12:41 A.M.

***

After all the emotions from yesterday, Saturday passes in a nice yet uneventful way. Alex falls asleep on her feet at barely half past seven, but it’s no surprise that the tiredness has finally caught up to her. She doesn’t even try to argue when Bucky suggests she should head to bed earlier. After tucking her in, he lays down on the couch for a second, promising himself that he’ll do the dishes before heading to bed. Suddenly, it’s past 10 P.M. and he’s mindlessly watching some late-night reruns of Say Yes to The Dress. He’s not even surprised at this turn of events.

The noise his phone makes blasts in the quiet of the living room, making Bucky jump. He’s in such a rush to turn off the ringing that he drops the phone on his face, accidentally answering the incoming video call.

“Hi, dimwit. Did you just drop your phone on your face again?” He hears Natasha’s amused voice.

“I’ve never dropped a phone on my face in my life, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky answers as he rubs his aching nose that has taken most of the impact.

Natasha only rolls her eyes at that. “My girl already asleep?”

“Yeah, went to bed before 8 p.m. and i bet she’ll sleep in tomorrow. She was positively exhausted today.”

“I’m not even surprised. She deserves some rest though, she was so brilliant last night,” Natasha says with a sad smile. “I hate that I couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tasha. She understands,” Bucky tries to convince her. “Besides you’re gonna be here for Christmas, right?”

Natasha is not reassured. She thinks she hides it well enough for Bucky not to notice, but he’s known her for too long. She sighs but then answers with a small smile. “Yeah, I will be home for most of December. I’ll need to go to Cali for a bit, as always, but I should be back for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Bucky smiles. “We miss you here and you’ll be just in time to see Alex in the Nutcracker, you know that one’s even more important to her.”

“Can’t wait. She’s gonna outmatch me sooner than I’ve expected.”

“She will and I don’t even feel sorry for you. She’s just so incredible. Like with your skills and my brains and also my good looks she’s destined for great things. I feel kind of bad for other kids,” Bucky chuckles but he only half-jokes.

In response he gets a raised eyebrow from Natasha. “I think you’ve meant my skills, my brains and my good looks and your—,” she waves her hand towards him dismissively. “I mean, I’m sure there’s something, we’ll figure it out at some point. Maybe it’s your love for Say Yes to the Dress, who knows.

“I’m—,” Bucky tries to defend himself but the grin on Natasha’s face tells him it’s a lost fight. He didn’t expect Natasha to recognise the background noise of his TV but then — it’s Natasha, so he should have. “You’re so full of shit, Romanoff.”

“I’m not. You are though,” Natasha says and when Bucky sends her a questioning look, she explains with a cheeky smirk. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me you’ve found yourself a new, smoking hot friend!”

“You know what, I don’t have to put up with this, I’m gonna go to bed,” Bucky sighs, but he makes no move to actually hang up.

Natasha only laughs triumphantly. “Oh my, why are you so defensive all of sudden? I didn’t say anything bad, did I?”

“You’re something bad in general, so I’m always prepared. Why are you all so obsessed with Steve? I have to put up with Clint already, so please, leave me alone.”

“We just care about you! And since you’ve been stuck with just us for ages, we’re excited there’s someone new, kind and handsome in your life!” the grin on her face makes Bucky groan out loud. “He seems nice and I hope you’ll be able to get to know him better. In a lot of ways.”

“See? This is exactly what I meant. I can’t believe I’ve been friends with you for so long.”

Another laugh escapes her mouth but her eyes soften when she looks back at him a moment later. “Really, though. You can’t be alone your whole life. And don’t bullshit me saying that you have Alex, you know that’s not my point. You’re just a huge softie who needs someone to make heart eyes at, it’s basically in your blood.”

Bucky chuckles in disbelief, not sure how this conversation got to this point. “What are you even talking about? I’ve known Steve for way too little for you to say all this. I’ve seen him in person twice. Twice, Natasha.”

“I’m not saying it has to be Steve, I know you’ve just met him. It was just a side note, completely unrelated to Steve. If anyone’s making a connection here, it’s you. So maybe you should think about that.” Natasha looks at him pointedly and when Bucky tries to chime in, she doesn’t let him. “Also on a completely unrelated note, Steve seems like a good guy, if you think about dating. And if you think about casual, he’s also smoking hot.”

“You’ve already mentioned that,” Bucky points out. “And you’ve only seen him via video chat.”

“Well, he is and it was clear even through Clint’s shitty camera.”

It’s hard to disagree with that. Even though Natasha is insane and he is not going to date anyone in the near future, let alone Steve whom he barely knows. He can objectively agree that Steve is unfairly attractive, though.

“Before you go all defensive and mean again — I just want you to be happy, James,” Natasha says. “And maybe having around someone who’s not Clint would be good for you.”

Bucky shakes his head with a chuckle. “You might have a point. But dating is not really on my priority list and I don’t think it’s a good time to change that now.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Natasha groans. “I really hope it won’t turn out that our daughter actually inherited your brains, because you’re an idiot.” She takes a deep sigh and changes the topic. “But let’s get to the important things now — is it just me or the dresses he shows this Caroline chick are getting uglier and uglier?”

“Oh God, I know, right? I don’t think I can handle another one of those monstrosities.”

taglist: @steverrogers​ @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk​ (@ anyone else - let me know if you want to be tagged ♥

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Nyx, of the Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

The reader is called Nyx in this, however, it is a reader insert :)

Warnings: language; slight pining; mentions of PTSD, anxiety, and drugs; the reader literally murders two people (oof)

The most recent addition to the Avengers--that’s who you were. They called you Nyx, the Greek Goddess of the night. You worked tirelessly at perfecting your powers--bringing death and sleep to people with a focused glance. You could also use “force fields” to do many things, including moving objects and throwing back the enemy.

Nobody was sure how you got these powers. You didn’t have a tragic backstory (beyond childhood trauma that was experienced by far too many people), you weren’t in some freak accident; nothing indicated that you would ever turn into this.

You, being a worshipper of the Greek deities, thought that perhaps it was a divine thing. Maybe something convinced a god or a goddess to bestow you with powers. The theory was ridiculous, but it was the only thing you could even think to come up with.

Getting close to the team wasn’t as easy as you would’ve hoped. It took a while for Steve to warm up to you, and even longer for Nat to start conversing with you openly. But, now, you were at least on good terms with everybody. You, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky were a small team within the team, which made you happy.

You and Nat would go out to brunch, you and Steve would sit around and sketch, and you and Bucky did everything together. He was easily your best friend. You used to think that he was quiet and held back, but it was the exact opposite when you got to know him. He was always making comments and joking around about whatever topic you were on about. Bucky made you laugh a lot more than you cared to admit.

Which brings us to the next point--you were deeply in love with your best friend. He just had a charm about him, and he cared about people, and he was friendly and funny, and have you seen those thighs? The man was a Greek god, and you were just another hopeless devotee.

You wouldn’t say anything, though (much to Steve and Nat’s dismay). It wasn’t that you couldn’t date him, but it was that you both just worked so well as friends. You were terrified to fuck that up. So much could go wrong, and you weren’t willing to risk that unless you were certain Bucky felt the same way.

Bucky, luckily, felt the same way. Yet, he also kept his mouth sealed about it. Even when it was blatantly obvious to everybody else, he chose to see it as you two just being friends. Steve and Natasha understood why; Bucky thought that he was a monster, even after all of the therapy and constant reassurance that he wasn’t. He believed that he didn’t deserve someone like you, who made him forget the past and live in the present. You were grounding to him, like a breath of fresh air.

The four of you were making cookies in the kitchen. It was Christmas, after all, and you wanted to do something privately before Tony’s big party tonight. Were any of you shocked that Tony was hosting another party? No. Were you happy about it? Also, no, but you supposed this was a better way to spend the holiday rather than out in the field. Besides that, this was your first Stark party.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of the other two Tony had thrown this year. The first one, you played sick and snuck out with a friend from way back in the day. The second one, you were on a mission in Bulgaria. You and Nat managed a ten-minute facetime call with Bucky and Steve, and even got a quick moment with Sam and Wanda before they had to go.

And now, even though you wanted to just curl up under the blankets and put on a movie, you forced yourself to go to Stark’s Christmas party.

You had plenty of time to prepare for it since it was currently noon, and the party was at seven. Steve had suggested doing some baking for the team and some of the higher-ups of SHIELD, which sounded great at the time--now you just wanted another hour of sleep.

For the most part, you just mixed and decorated since baking wasn’t a strong suit. You stayed in the kitchen when Nat went to do her workout (“it’s a daily requirement, Nyx”), and you started decorating when Steve responded to a text from Tony.

“Are you ready for your first Stark party?” Bucky asked, leaning on the counter beside you.

“I feel like nothing can prepare me for one of his parties,” You laughed, adding more frosting to a piping bag.

“Whatcha wearing?”

“You tryna match or something?” You joked flirtingly. He rolls his eyes with a smile. “Nat picked it out, so I have no clue if it’s up to standard.”

“If Natasha has any say in anything, you’re prepared,” Bucky laughs. Fuck, that laugh. It was music to your ears.

“Don’t forget what you promised me,” You sang out as the oven went off. Bucky groans and pulls out some pecan tarts while you cut the tip of the icing bag.

“I can’t forget when you remind me every two minutes,” He jokes, setting the tray on the counter. He spins you around and places his hands on either side of you, trapping you in a way. Both of you knew that you could give him one look and he’d be asleep, but this was a position you certainly weren’t complaining about. “I owe you one dance, doll. I know,” He says, his voice softer than usual. It took everything in you not to reach forward and kiss him. But, of course, you reminded yourself why you couldn’t. It could ruin your friendship.

Instead, you stealthily dipped your finger in the frosting and then swiped it on the tip of his nose. Bucky had a look of shock, and then a wave of expectation. You couldn’t see either of them, though, because you were laughing your ass off. He backs away and grabs a cloth to wipe his face, and then you get back to work.

It was moments like those that you loved with Bucky. Sometimes he’d back away, and other times he’d tickle you until you couldn’t breathe; either way, it gave you serotonin.

Natasha finished her workout routine right as you finished frosting the cookies, and she helped you clean up. “Hope you don’t mind, but I gotta steal her for a bit,” She smirked, looking at Bucky.

“I don’t mind at all,” He says, trying to get some flour off of his black shirt. “I’ll see you soon, ladies,” He adds, giving that signature smile.

Natasha decides to get some food from a random diner on the other side of town. It was a light lunch but definitely needed. You had managed not to eat any of the batter (which was truly surprising). And then, once you got back to the tower, it was go time.

Nat went to her room to shower, so you did the same. She met you back in your room twenty minutes later with a towel wrapped around her and a makeup bag in hand. You put your wet hair back and started on the makeup.

It was a full beat, to be honest. Your skin looked like porcelain, and your eyes and lips were snatched. Nat went all out, too, opting to use a bold red instead of your mauve lipstick. Then, you did your hair in curls. They weren’t too tight, and they weren’t too loose. Tonight, you let your hair stay down rather than pinning it up. Next came the dress. Nat picked a flowy red dress for herself. It ended a few inches above her knees and had a halter top to it. She chose an a-line forest green dress for you. It had a deep neckline, and it shimmered, but it wasn’t sequin. It was like there were diamonds sewn into the fabric--it was unlike any dress you’ve seen. Your dress, like her’s, ended quite a few inches above the knee.

After sliding on your heels (and realizing you were half an hour late), you both took the elevator down to the party deck. It only took up one floor (typically Tony’s parties took four, but he kept it light for Christmas), but it was still set up so extravagantly.

“Let’s make a straight shot for the bar and see how many shots we can take before Steve and Bucky find us,” Nat said. It was less of a suggestion and more of a command, but you did it either way.

“Nat, you know I’m a lightweight,” You warned as you stood at the bar.

“Even more fun,” She smirked, waving down the bartender. The young man poured six shots to share between the two of you, and they were gone in seconds. Your goal was to keep up with Nat. And you did, but you were also feeling it by shot number six.

Steve found you guys first, asking what was going on. Natasha gestured to the empty shot glasses and water that you were sipping on, and he nodded his head in understanding.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked.

“He’s in his room; he had a flare with his PTSD. He just texted me and said that he’d be down soon, though,” Steve answered. He whisked Natasha away after that, taking her to the dance floor.

You were concerned about Bucky, so you downed the water and hit the elevator. Tony made these so that they were faster than any elevator in New York, but the ascent to Bucky’s floor was maddeningly slow.

Passing your living area and heading to the only other door on the floor, you knocked. Bucky answered it a few seconds later, eyes widening at you.

“Doll, you look stunning,” He said.

You stepped into his room and shut the door, turning back to him. “What’s going on, Buck?” You asked him.

He sighs, knowing that he couldn’t keep anything from you. “I missed two days of my meds, so my PTSD and anxiety are flared.”

“Okay,” You told him. “Is it okay to touch you right now?” Bucky nods his head. How could he say no? Your arms around him grounded him in ways nothing else could. As much as he hated his nightmares and restlessness, he longed to have you in his bed and helping him sleep. Half of the time, you didn’t even need your powers to accomplish it.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into you, gently laying your head on his chest. Both of you let out a sigh of relief and welcomed each other’s warmth. “I’m sorry,” He muttered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” You replied. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at the pet name (you never used them on him) but felt his cheeks heat up at the sound of it. “If you don’t wanna go down there, you don’t have to.”

“But I promised you that dance.”

“I’ll take a raincheck, Buck. Your health and wellbeing are infinitely more important than a dance.” Before he could counter, you speak again. “Wanna come with me to take my makeup off?”

“I have some wipes in here,” He says, releasing you from the hug. You follow him through the hallway and to the bathroom, where he pulls out an unopened pack of makeup wipes. “I keep them in here just in case you or Nat need one.”

“You’re so sweet, Buck,” You smile, taking a wipe from the package.

“I’ll grab some sweats and a shirt for you if you’d like me to,” He adds. “We can set up a movie or something.”

“That sounds perfect,” You say. Bucky goes across the hall into his bedroom, and you take off your makeup. When you’re done, you meet him in his room, where he’s scrolling through Netflix. Changing in front of Bucky was something you had done before, but it never stopped being awkward, especially when you needed his help to unzip your dress.

Once you were both ready, you got under the sheets. At first, you were just side by side, but it quickly turned into a full cuddle session. For once, you were the first to fall asleep.

The next morning, you and Bucky were called into Tony’s office.

“You two look splendid,” Tony quipped. You didn’t think twice about being in Bucky’s sweatpants and shirt, a cup of coffee in your hand and a scowl on your face.

“It’s five in the morning, Tony,” You snapped back. You weren’t an early riser compared to the rest of the team--it was something Steve repeatedly told you to work on. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a trade deal happening on the Solviski case,” Tony started. “And you two are the only ones here that speak Polish. Therefore, I’m sending you both out for recon and hit.”

“So what you’re saying is the biggest mission we’ve seen all year, where we need to exercise every facet of my training, is my first mission?” You asked. You were in disbelief. You hadn’t been on a single mission. The only thing that came close was when you stopped a bank robbery. And that wasn’t a mission--that was just poor timing for you and the robber.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Get suited up. There’ll be a quinjet ready in an hour. The mission should be two days tops.”

You and Bucky turned and went back to your rooms to get ready. You brushed your hair and teeth, packed your bags, and met your partner at the hangar. Once he got there, you both loaded up and took flight.

It was relatively easy, considering Bucky can put in the coordinates and place the flight on auto-pilot. So, when he did that, you sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. It was ten hours from New York to Poland.

You got a hotel room first. It was a damn good thing you were both fluent in Polish because the nerves started to kick in, and Bucky had to do most of the talking to get checked in.

“Okay, so we have to go to his party tonight--”

“Another party?” You groaned. Bucky laughs softly before continuing.

“We’re going undercover as Mr. Dominik Rovlov and his loving wife, Mrs. Katina Rovlov. We’ve been married for five years, and we need to make a deal with Solviski to get drugs for our small gang in western Russia. And we have a deal that he can’t refuse.”

“Which is?”

“20 million zlotych, or the equivalent of five million dollars,” Bucky answers. “Let’s hit the town,” He added.

“For what?”

“I didn’t bring a suit, and I’m assuming you didn’t bring a formal dress. Plus, you need to work out your nerves,” Bucky answers, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you nervous?”

“It’s my first mission, and it’s high-profile. Mixed with the fact that Polish isn’t my native language--it’s like my fourth or fifth.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Bucky coos. “You’re Nyx. You’re like a Greek goddess. I wouldn’t mess with you; you’re powerful beyond words, doll.” Bucky always knew what to say and do when you were nervous. He knew you like the back of his hand. “You ready?”

“Sure?” You questioned. You were as ready as you were going to be. This was the easy part. All you needed to do was get a dress and get back here to prepare.

Bucky decided to split up when you got to town. He said that it’d be quicker since we only had two more hours to be at the party.

Once you got back to the hotel, you quickly changed into your dress while Bucky changed into his suit. The man was hot beyond belief.

“You look--wow,” Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, sweetheart,” You smirked. Bucky tied his hair up, slipped on his shoes, and then you got into the rental car. It was luxurious, but you didn’t care about the vehicle. Bucky had all of your attention.

Once you showed up at the party, Bucky parked a block away. He got out and opened your door for you like a gentleman.

“Okay. If something goes wrong--anything at all--you pull the pin,” He starts, referring to the codes you had made up in the hotel wrong. If you adjusted your earrings, it meant that something was off. It could be that you suspected that he was catching on to you, or anything along those lines. But if you pulled the pin out of your hair, it meant that a fight was going to break out any second, and you needed to be prepared. You weren’t horribly concerned with hand-to-hand combat or even knife-fighting; your powers were well adjusted to that. But if bullets were going to start flying, you didn’t know if you could put up a strong enough field to keep you and Bucky safe. “Nobody gets a single scratch; you got it?”

You nod your head in agreement. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, taking a nervous breath. “Now, kiss me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Kiss me. I need to know what to expect, so I’m not surprised in there.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You took a second to process the situation. Bucky was right--he usually was. This would eliminate both surprise and flooding emotions if you had to kiss in front of a crowd of people. It’s just that this was not how you expected your first kiss with Bucky to go.

You place a hand behind his neck and gently start to pull him down to you. He cups your face, leaning in agonizingly slowly. His lips flicker from your eyes to your lips, his mouth slightly parted, and if you didn’t know any better, this would be a dream-come-true.

Your lips finally meet, and your eyes flutter shut. This kiss felt right, even though it was a practice for a mission. Bucky’s lips were so soft and gentle, and he moved so smoothly that it didn’t let you think. His other hand, which previously held no position in this, came to rest on your waist.

You broke the kiss first, moving only an inch away from him. Your mind wandered back into your body, and the weight of what was happening around you hit.

Bucky had a small smile on his face for a second. “Okay, I got it.” You swallowed thickly and backed away from him, and you both walked the block to the entrance of the house.

“Dzień dobry (hello),” The guard at the front said. “Dla kogo jest rezerwacja (who is the reservation for)?”

“Dominik i Katina Rovlov,” Bucky said. The guard checks his list, sees the names, and lets us into the house. The house was extravagant. There was gold framing on hand-painted walls, a giant chandelier, and all the guests looked eloquent.

“To jest piękne (it’s beautiful),” You said, taking everything in.

“Nie tak piękna jak ty (not as beautiful as you),” Bucky responded, his eyes never leaving you. You smiled and looked up at him.

“Co powiesz na ten taniec (how about that dance)?” You asked. Bucky took your arm and led you to where the other couples were dancing, and you joined in smoothly.

“Solviski knows how to find us,” Bucky whispers. “The offer was already laid out; now it’s about waiting.”

You nodded your head but didn’t say a word, focused more on the dance than the mission. It was a bad idea to go on a mission with Bucky Barnes. He would be the death of you--or perhaps he’d be the life of you.

And you could’ve sworn Bucky was an actor in his youth. The way he looked at you right now, with such tenderness and warmth, like he would do absolutely anything for you, it looked like he was falling in love with you right before your eyes. It was intoxicating. You could get drunk off of one simple look from him, and that was perfectly fine by you.

“Jesteś poszukiwany w głównym biurze (you’re wanted in the main office),” A butler said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Chodź za mną (follow me),” He commanded, nudging his head toward the upstairs.

Bucky and you followed in a single file line, with you in the back. You made as many observations as you could--escape routes, the number of people that were in any given area, the location of the guards and butlers. Anything to help if the plan went wrong.

Once the butler got to the door, he knocked in a code. A female guard on the other side opened the door, giving a curt nod before looking at you and Bucky. She wore a plain black mask that covered the lower half of her face. Her dark brown hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and her eyes were a piercing grey. She was intimidating to most, but to you, she was as innocent as a child.

She opened the door and let you in, standing in front of it once it was closed. “Cieszę się, że przyszedłeś (I’m glad you came),” The man behind the desk said. From the files you’d gotten from Tony, it was easy to tell that this man was Solviski. Your nerves wanted to scream at you, and you had to keep your mind focused on anything other than kill mode, but you managed to look stoic. “Miło cię poznać (it’s a pleasure to meet you),” He added, gesturing to the chairs in front of him.

“Przyjemność po naszej stronie,” You said with a light smile.

“Moja żona i ja nie mogliśmy się tego doczekać (my wife and I have been looking forward to this),” Bucky adds.

“Otrzymałem twoją ofertę (I received your offer),” Solviski starts, tapping a file on his desk. “Po prostu nie mogę odmówić (I simply can’t refuse).”

“Świetny (excellent),” You say, clapping your hands together. “Załatwmy to (let’s arrange it).”

Bucky pulls out the briefcase he had carried in, and sets it on the desk. He opens it to reveal the money that we “owe” him. As Solviski looks through it, Bucky wraps his arm around your shoulders and gives three quick taps--the symbol to enter phase two. The hit. This, in your opinion, would be the easy part.

“Przepraszam (pardon me),” You started. “Myślę, że właśnie zacząłem okres (I believe I just started my period),” You added, faking some sense of panic. You stood up and looked to the female guard, who (although rather neutral) looked sympathetic. “Czy możesz mi pokazać łazienkę (may you please show me the bathroom)?” You asked her sweetly.

“Czy potrzebujesz czegoś ode mnie (do you need anything from me)?” Bucky asked, like a good husband should. It wasn’t a part of the plan for him to be caring, but you supposed it was just who he was.

“Nie, dziękuję, kochanie (no, thank you, my love),” You responded with a small smile. Turning back to the female guard, you nod as a signal that you’re ready. She leads you down the hallway and to the guest bathroom, where she opens the door and holds it for you.

You feel absolutely horrible for doing this to her, but it has to be done for the mission. So, you use a force field to shove her into the bathroom, and then shut the door behind you both. “I’m sorry,” You mutter as the lunges at you. You grab her arms and twist them so they’re pinned behind her, then you turn her to look into the mirror. Your gaze focuses right into her eyes and you will your brain into kill-mode. She looks stunned as she has an aneurysm, falling to the ground.

Quickly, you grab her body and place it into the bathtub, shutting the curtain. It was a good thing you wore gloves to this event because even though the Avengers would be taking care of the legal matters, you still felt horrible about the evidence you left behind.

You opened the door and locked it from the inside, shutting it behind you as you left. This would buy more time to complete the hit and make your escape. You gave the knock that the guard had given before entering, and the second you had entered, you gave a major blast to Solviski.

He flew backwards and hit the wall behind him, immediately coming back with a gun drawn. You threw up a forcefield right as Bucky stood in front of you with his metal arm as his only defense. The bullet stopped in mid-air, suspended by the field. You let Solviski empty his clip, watching as he panicked more and more. Once he ran out of bullets, he went to phone for more guards, but you gave him the same look that you gave to the guard, and he was dead in seconds. The second you felt the life leave his body, you dropped your shield, letting the bullets fall to the ground.

Bucky turns back toward you, heaving a sigh of relief as he pulled you into a kiss. You stood shocked for a second, but then your brain caught up to what was happening. Bucky pulled you tightly to him, nearly moaning when your hand went to his hair to keep him in place.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” He said against your lips.

“I had it handled,” You argued, biting down on his lips gently. He let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away.

“We have five minutes before the butler does his routine check-in; we need to leave,” Bucky said. You nodded, reluctantly processing his words.

Bucky led you out of the room calmly in an attempt to play it cool. It was a quick exit, and an even quicker walk to the car. The two of you didn’t even stop for a breath when you were at the hotel. It was two minutes of throwing everything into your bag and speeding to the quinjet.

You felt like you could finally breathe the second the jet was in auto-pilot. Leaning back in your seat, you took one grounding breath before undoing your seatbelt and standing up. Bucky followed behind you, and you quietly changed back into your civilian clothes.

“Hey, we should probably talk about that,” Bucky said as he slid his shirt on.

“Yeah, we should,” You repeated. You sit down on one of the benches, and he takes a seat next to you. “Listen, I don’t know if you kiss everybody like that on their first mission, but--”

“I should’ve done it sooner,” Bucky blurts out. He notices your shocked expression and takes that at his opportunity to continue. “I’ve liked you for months, and I should’ve said something before we went on a mission.”

“You--did--Buck--I just can’t--huh?” You stammered. You take a second, collect your thoughts, and try to speak again. “Bucky, are you sure?” You asked. Wow, that was a dumb question. “I mean, aren’t you scared that we could ruin what we already have?”

“We could, or we could have something even better,” Bucky bartered. He had a point, and you truly never thought of it quite like that. “I wanna give us a shot, as long as you’re okay with that.”

You smiled and nodded your head at Bucky, making him smile even more. He leans down, cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. This feeling was one you could get used to. Where you felt warm and fuzzy, as though you had taken five shots and were just starting to feel it hit.

They called you Nyx. The goddess of the night. But even the goddess of the darkness deserves a little light, right?