#tore it apart since i only needed the plastic base

[smute]

made a phone case that can hold my headphone amp ✌️😙

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Biggest Fan 3

Part 1 Part 2

Warning: coercion, blackmail, porn, nonconsent sex, cheating, toyplay

🎀🎀🎀

The week that followed was torture. Andy was insatiable. He found reasons to have you in his office; soon enough on your knees beneath the desk. Just a little workday relief, he said. Or when the clock tolled, he’d have you in his car. That was even more uncomfortable as you feared onlookers through the windows. He hadn’t again taken you back to his house.

And after that first week, he seemed distracted. Worse, he was angry. He dropped files on your desk without a word only to text you moments later. ‘Not today’. That was it. No explanations. As much as you were thankful for his retreat, it set you on edge. He was still your boss; your degree, your future career, your life, were all in his hands.

You sat at your desk, the font across the screen blared into your retinas. You leaned back to rub your eyes and as your vision cleared, you glanced over at Andy’s open door. He had his phone in hand, that sinister smirk on his lips. You knew that look. It had been almost two weeks since that very expression had drowned in icy dread.

He looked up from his phone and his gaze met yours. His chest puffed out and he stared back at you. He waved you in with his other hand. You pointed to the case files stacked beside your computer. He shrugged and his smirk disappeared. He pointed at his desk. That was an order.

You got up and grabbed a random file from the stack. An alibi. You held it in front of your chest as you neared his door. You knocked on the frame and he gave his usual, absent, “come in.” He was convincing. You supposed lawyers needed to be great actors. He nodded to the door and you closed it as you entered.

“We need to talk.” He looked at the empty chair across from him. You sat and rested the file on your lap, picking anxiously at the edges. “I’m sorry, baby girl, I know I haven’t had much time.” He began as he leaned on the arm of his chair. “I was just missing you like hell.”

He turned his screen to you and displayed one of your photos. This one was in your bathtub, bubbles barely hiding your nudity. He bit his lip before he blackened the screen and tossed his phone on his desk.

“I understand. Maybe it’s better we don’t--”

“You keep on with that. I thought you were a good girl. A good worker.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “The last thing you want on your performance report is the word ‘combative’. That only works in the courtroom, not in the office.”

“Andy.”

“Mr. Barber.” He purred with a wink. “Remember your first day? I think I prefer ‘sir’ now, baby girl.”

“Mr. Barber, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to relax,” He steepled his hands together over the desk, his fingertips dragged through the short hairs along his chin. “I have good news.”

“Oh?” You blinked and crossed your ankles.

“My wife just left with Jacob. Took him out of town to see her parents. She understands I’m too busy here to take the time off.” He explained. “She’ll be gone all week.”

You were silent. You didn’t need to ask why he was telling you.

“It’ll be good. For us.” He smiled. “She’s been down my neck for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to get away from her.”

“You think she knows?” You asked softly. “If she did, she could--”

“If she knew, she would say so,” He said. “That’s just who she is and your desk would already be empty.”

You nodded and lowered your chin. You chewed your lip.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He asked as he leaned over his desk.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. Especially your family.” You said.

“You keep this quiet, you keep me happy, and you don’t have to worry about all that.” He coaxed.

You mulled his words. What about your happiness? He really didn’t seem to care about that. You stood and waved the folder at him.

“I’m running behind. I should get back to it.” You said.

“Sure,” He sat back and pushed his legs apart. “Do me a favour before you do.”

You stared at him. He tilted his head. 

“You’ve earned a break. Go take a little photo for me.” He winked. “It will get me through the rest of the day.”

“And-- Mr. Barber, I can’t.” You glanced at the door. “I have to get this done.”

“No, you have to listen to me. I’m your boss.” He snarled. “Now, you go on.” He rolled closer to his desk and picked up his phone. “Oh, and uh, wait for me after work. I’ll pick you up in our usual spot.”

“Sir.” You said grimly as you grabbed the door handle.

Was all this worth it? It wasn’t too late to just start over, but you had done so much work already. You were so close. Well, you had known this profession was cutthroat. Swallow your lumps and one day you’d be in the big office making the rules.

🎀

The drive was silent. You could feel Andy looking at you in the rear view at every corner. His hand drifted to your thigh when it wasn’t on the stick. You sat stiffly, staring ahead. You wanted to sink into the seat entirely; become a part of it.

As you entered his house, you felt sick. You looked around at the photos of his family, of the remnants of their departure. A book on the arm of the couch, a game controller on the coffee table. You were intruding.

“Upstairs,” Andy set his briefcase down and took your bag from your shoulder. “I have a surprise.”

“I don’t like being here.” You said.

“You didn’t seem to hate it last time.” His hand went to the small of your back and he nudged you towards the stairs. “What’s the matter? You like the kitchen? We can come back to it.”

You shook your head but stayed silent. You climbed the stairs as he lingered behind you and his hand spread over your ass. He didn’t draw away until you reached the top.

“At the end,” He directed.

You continued on and entered the bedroom at the end of the hall. It smelled like gardenia and him. It was their room. You hesitated and stayed far from the bed. You turned and saw yourself in the round mirror hung on the wall. You had to look away.

You spun around and watched Andy go to the bed. He got down on a knee and reached beneath. He pulled something hidden up in the frame and revealed the long box. It was wrapped in lilac paper. He stood and neared you. He held it out to you.

“I’ve been waiting to give you this,” He said. 

You frowned as you searched his face, then your eyes fell to the box. You took it with a numb ‘thanks’, spoken on sheer instinct. He backed away and pulled off his jacket. He slung it over the chair by the window and turned back to you as he tugged on his tie.

“Well, open it! It’s part of the fun.” He untangled his tie and dropped it over his jacket.

You sighed and ran your thumb along a fold of paper. You tore open the wrap and revealed the black box with a plastic window. Inside that, a glittery pink dildo was displayed. You crumpled the paper in your hand as you stared at the toy. Aside from being tacky, it was huge.

“You like it?” He asked as he came closer.

You looked up at him. His brows drew together and you nodded. His lips slanted and he took the box from you.

“How about I get this all ready for you…” He peeled back the seal. “And you get ready for me.” He nodded to your attire. “Get nice and comfy on the bed.”

You nodded again. It was all you could do to keep from running away. He left you and disappeared into the attached bathroom. You listened to a draw glide open and you stepped out of your heels. You shed your blazer and then your striped blouse. You wiggled out of your skirt and Andy reappeared, loading batteries into the toy.

“Panties?” He mused. “When did you start wearing those?”

You ignored him and unclasped your bra. The sooner this was done with, the sooner you could be gone and flagellate your soul with self-loathing. 

You tossed away your bra then your panties as Andy watched. You could hear his eager breaths as he beckoned you towards the bed. You sat on the end as he held the toy up.

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” He purred as he shoved it closer. “I just wanna watch, baby girl.”

You took it and looked around. “Do we have to do it in here?”

“Trust me, it’s the most action this room will see for a while.” He brought his hands up to frame your face. “So lay back and relax.” His hands fell to your shoulders and he kneaded them. “You’re so tense. You need it.”

You fell away from him and bounced on your back. You pushed your legs apart as they hung over the edge of the mattress. You reluctantly grazed the tip of the toy along your pelvis. Andy stepped back and let out a sultry hum. You clicked the dildo on and closed your eyes.

You pushed the toy down against your cunt. You wiggled it just a little and found your clit. The soft buzz quickly sent a wave of electricity through you. Your feet arched and you hissed through your teeth. You rubbed the toy back and forth, working yourself up as you tried to forget the man looming around you.

“You think you can fit it all, baby girl?” He asked. “Hmm? You’re so tight.”

You moaned but couldn’t answer. You didn’t want to.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” His voice was low and gritty as he ran his hand up your leg. 

You bit your lip and angled the dildo along your folds. Your pussy clenched as you reached your entrance and you paused. He grabbed your hand around the base of the you and he guided the tip inside you. You gasped and he pushed deeper. Your thighs tensed as he released you and grasped your thigh to keep your legs apart.

“Keep going,” He order.

You whined as you drew the toy back and then pushed it back in, even further. His fingers tickled your leg and he lifted your foot up onto the bed to bend your leg completely. Then he raised the other and withdrew.

You whimpered as the dildo sank deeper and your eyes fluttered open. You gulped and his figure moved around the bed.

“That’s it, baby girl.” As he came closer, you saw the phone in his hand, pointed at your body. “Just like that. Look how fucking wet your are.”

“Are you rec--”

He shushed you and put his hand over yours once more. He shoved the toy to its limit and you cried out. He guided it in and out of you, fast and hard. Your voice grew louder and louder as he battered your walls with the silicone.

“Ow, please.”

“Don’t stop.” He growled as he slipped his hand away and pressed his thumb to your clit. 

He swirled around your bud and flicked up and down as your hand worked around his. You trembled as your core pulsed and the pressure grew suffocating. His low purrs mingled with your helpless moans and you arched your back as you struggled to keep the toy moving. 

You came and felt the gush around the dildo. You writhed and let out a guttural noise as you were awash with pleasure. You panted as he slowly pulled away and you pressed your legs together as you turned onto your side, crushing your hand between your thighs. The toy slowly slipped out of you as you laid, senseless and weak, at the end of the bed.

Andy’s large hand spread over your ass and continued down your thigh, making you quiver. He gripped your hip and pushed until you turned entirely onto your stomach.

“This part is just for me.” He said as he got down behind you and tossed his phone up on the pillow. “You’re mine. All mine.”

[bakurik]

The breakup, aka, BonBon messed up bad. 

Rockstar Bonnie could handle a lot. Children running around the pizzeria? Fine. An annoyed teen throwing their lackluster breadsticks at him cause they didn’t want to stuck at their little sister birthday party? Easy. A few small pranks, annoying but what can you do? But when he had started a relationship with the broken bear that was salvaged from the back alley he never expected to have to put up for so much and only get so little in return. He had promised his funny bear that he would make sure his little hand puppet pal was fixed, and to his credit and help of the other assembles they had done so, but finally he had enough. The little thing was dangerous. Jealous. And it wasn’t worth it anymore.   “I am so sick and tired of getting pushed around like this. I am so SICK of having to fear death every day of my life, because of you.” There was a snap of plastic, well another snap. If the instrument wasn’t broke before, it sure was now. This wasn’t meant to happen like this. “You know, sure, maybe I tried getting along with you because of Freddy, and maybe I thought you were annoying at a few points in time. But I tried, I genuinely tried.” 

BonBon hadn’t meant to actually break the stupid thing. Sure, snap a few strings to annoy, make the larger bun have to spend the day rummaging through the back of the Pizzeria’s supply closet with helpy before the night was over so the owner wouldn’t catch them when ordering things. He didn’t think that a little prank would end like this, none of the rest ever did. No. No this was the rockstar’s fault. “..And what do I get? A swinging bucket of water to the head. Make my circuits lock up and then have me land right on my beauty.”

The little rabbit didn’t know what to say back. He just stood on his spindly legs, tiny hands clasped together as he felt a weird sensation wash over him. Bonnie was mad. Steaming. This wasn’t the jokey anger he was used to and it wasn’t the complete insanity laced rage he learned to cool with Freddy. Did he try to distract the bun? Tell him to go to sleep? That worked on the bear.. He didn’t know how to even begin to fix this situation. 

“I admit it might be my fault that Freddy doesn’t hang out with you a lot anymore. But it was his decision. And it’s not my fault you can’t even respect that.” The rockstar had started to pace, the broken neck of his instrument in one hand while the base rested on the floor. That was going to forever to try and fix with how splintered the plastic on the neck had gotten. “I’m going to have to have Helpy order another one, that’s going to take a week or more to get here. I’ll be out of order until then..” 

BonBon finally opened his mouth, “There should be another guitar in the back-”

“Really? ‘Cause I remember you ripping off the tuning pegs and flushing them while I was taking Freddy outback to see the stars a few days ago.”

The little bun didn’t think they would go down, or at least that is what he told himself. He figured it would clog up the thing, it would have been funny to see the date end with the big bun trying to fish out the things before the owner got around to unclogging them via the computer. The things seemed so much larger in his paw. Watching the rockstar he could see the utter exhaust seeping in. His normal droopy eyelids Were the pranks really taking that much out of him? Surely not. It was just harmless fun to break his best friend and the guy apart. All he wanted was more time with Freddy, he loved the bear. He was comfort for the bear. They had been apart so long, he didn’t want to be replaced by-

 "You don't want me in your life? Fine. You win. Keep the bear, keep your little weird relationship, i'm done." ….What? “I can do a lot better than that pile of scrap. And without you sticking your button nose into my affairs. You want to play partner, then go ahead.  Now if you’ll excuse me,” He reached down and placed the lower half of the guitar under his arm as he did so. “I have to go find some flex tape for my guitar since it’s now utterly broken.” Stepping closer he pressed his free hand to the puppet’s face, pushing aside the bun and not caring as the thin metal legs scrambled to keep stable but ultimately failing as he landed on his back. Sure it hurt but the pain wasn’t crossing his mind, there was a new emotion that was washing over him. He didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t something he had felt before. Did he really cause this big of an issue? Just a few pranks didn’t… Okay sure, he didn’t do this to anyone else but he didn’t have to. Chica was hardly around at night. She wandered, cleaned, things that kept her busy. That rocker Freddy only seemed to care about collecting coins the kids left scattered after hours with the fox. And Lefty….well nobody fully knew what to make of the dark bear. She was always so quiet so most never bothered her and in turn she didn’t bother anyone else. She liked the vents and Freddy used to say she and him used to be buddies but the little bun never had to worry. BonBon didn’t see her as a threat-

Wait...what?

Threat? Why would anyone be a threat to...no. No that wasn’t right. BonBon knew that Freddy cared about him more than anyone. They were once attached at the wrist, always together. Always having such fun with the children that came to the paties. They knew all the best knock-knock jokes, could sing in harmony, if someone was mean to the bear BonBon was the key to keeping him calm and stable. Though the best times and the worst times. He made sure Freddy was okay even when the laughs turned to screams. They needed each other. Freddy needed him. They were made for each other, they were family! Even when the scooper tore them apart and everyone was forced to rebuild into one. BonBon could remember the voices going dark first, the bun had done all he could to stay awake but he just became so tired…

Looking at the ceiling of the pizzeria, the bun had gone quiet but felt his ears twitch as a new voice started coming down the hall, “-eard tha bear in the back, poor thing.” He knew that voice. With the accent it must have been the fox.. “I feel bad for the lad-” The pirate must have been talking about Freddy. How long had he been laying on the floor? “Bonnie seemed upset too, but ya know how his temper be. Cool and calm but inside it’s all a mess in his circuits. Dat wee lil’ one wasn’t much help. Da bear was helpin’ tho. ‘Least I believed so.”  

Was Freddy okay? BonBon knew one thing, and that was that big emotions weren’t easily processed by his friend. Most of the funtimes were very advanced but Freddy was simple in mind. When things got too much he’d snap, that’s why the human had made himself. BonBon was the safety switch. And now...now Freddy was now without the safety switch. 

[writtenonreceipts]

four thousand words later and another random fic is done.

A companion to this fic.  Can be read separately but some stuff might make more sense if you read the other first. Based on characters from the “Throne of Glass” World.

The Boys are Back in Town

Modern AU In which Rowan and Lorcan are up to their hijinks and where Lorcan ponders murder, his feelings, and food allergies. Warnings: None, just slight language.

“I made a mistake.”  Elide leaned against the kitchen counter--nose scrunched and fingers knit together beneath her chin.

Lorcan narrowed his eyes confused. Elide Lochan rarely, if ever, made mistakes.  Lowering his cup of coffee from his lips he shook his head.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said.  He sat across the counter from her on one of the absurdly uncomfortable stools.  Lorcan suspected the only reason Elide and Aelin had bought it was because it was on sale.

Elide’s lips puckered into a pout. “It’s true and you are going to hate me.”

That was impossible, but Lorcan didn’t say that.  He’d only just barely managed to tell Elide that he really, really liked her.  In reality, he was head over heels in love with her, but telling her that meant actually saying the words and admitting the feelings.  Not to mention the storm Aelin Galathynius would rain down on him after Elide was sure to tell her.

“Lorcan,” Elide said again.  She slipped around the counter until she came to his side.  She leaned into him until her chin rested on his shoulder and her lips nearly grazed his cheek.

It would be so easy to take her mouth with his.  So easy to let his hands trail over her body, through her hair.  Aelin wasn’t home so they had the apartment to themselves for a long while.

“Elide,” he said, his voice low.  He turned his face and their noses grazed.  He found her dark eyes bright with humor boring into his.  

“Aelin and I are having girls night,” Elide said.  Her mouth quirked to one side. “She went to pick up Lysandra and Manon.”

And just like that, Lorcan’s mood went to hell.  Sighing, he looked away from his girlfriend and stood.

It had been a while since the two of them had had time alone together.  Between her going to school and his job--he felt like they were ships in the night that kept passing by with little more than dim lights acknowledging the other’s existence.

“Hey,” Elide said, she snatched a hand out and cupped his cheek bringing his attention back to her.  Her expression softened. “I know.  I know what you’re thinking.  But if you want someone to blame, blame Rowan.”

“Rowan?” Lorcan scowled. “Why?”

“He said you all needed a boys night.”  Now Elide was full out grinning.  She chuckled as Lorcan’s confusion and small bit of anger.  Slipping onto her toes she brushed her lips against his and sighed.  “He sounded desperate.  Aelin’s been giving Fleetfoot more attention than him.  I think he’s jealous.”

As if summoned, the demon puppy flopped into the kitchen whining softly.  Elide laughed and stepped away from Lorcan to dote on the dog.  He frowned at the creature.  While Aelin was the one who ended up getting the dog and not Elide, Lorcan knew it was only a matter of time before Elide made goot on her promise and got an animal of some sort.

Just then the front door burst open.

“Y’all better be fully clothed,” Aelin announced as she marched into the apartment.  Behind her came Lysandra and Manon.  None of the women looked ready for a girls night.  In fact, everyone was in their pajamas.

“That was one time,” Elide said.  She glared at her roommate, hands on her hips. “And we weren’t even doing anything.”

Aelin shook a single finger in Lorcan’s direction.  “Mm-hmm.”

Lorcan held his hands up in a silent surrender, not wanting to say anything that would make him the topic of discussion for girls night.

Rowan waited outside the apartment, leaning against the door jam. “Let’s go Salvaterre.  Dorian and Aedion are meeting us at the bar.”

“Have fun!” Elide said.  She reached up to give Lorcan another sift kiss before she exclaimed the need to find her pajamas.

Lorcan shook his head and grabbed his jacket hanging over the side of the couch.  He, for once, offered a small wave to Manon and Lysandra.  The latter was the only one to acknowledge him.

One outside and away from the door, Lorcan punched Rowan. “This was my first Friday off in weeks and I was planning on spending it with my girlfriend.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I made a mistake.”

#

Unlike Elide, Lorcan was fully convinced Rowan was quite capable of making mistakes.

It had only been a month ago when he and Rowan were running for their lives through an impound lot.  Giant dobermans had been very close to eating them and Lorcan had decided then and there that he would never get into another one of Rowan’s antics.  Granted, that night he’d also been helping Elide by reducing a pair of Manon’s shoes from an impounded car...but still.  It was Rowan’s fault because it had been Aelin who first insisted on needed help.

It was a convoluted mess.

Now, Lorcan had been hoping that night was long gone and would only be a distant memory that Rowan and Lorcan would never, ever, bring up to anyone.

Oh what a fool he had been.

“No,” Lorcan said.

“Lorcan,” Rowan began.

“No.”

“But.”

“Hell Rowan, after last time?”

“This will be nothing like last time.”

“I don’t believe you.  Nor do I trust you.”  Loran ran a hand through his hair, loosely contained in a low bun.  He’d been meaning to cut his hair for a while now, but Elide had insisted he keep it long.  So he had.  

“It won’t be that bad,” Rowan insisted.

They stood in the alleyway behind Rowan’s apartment staring at the sickly green dumpster where tenants put anything, and everything.  It stank like ten different somethings had died back here and had ten different somethings growing on them.  Not to mention it was the prime of summer and the nights stayed unbearably hot more often than not.

“I’m not dumpster diving,” Lorcan said.

“The bag shouldn’t be down that far,” Rowan said.  “I had to hide something from Aelin, so I put it in the trash.  How was I supposed to know she’d take the bag out while I was in the shower?”

“What kind of boyfriend hides stuff from his girlfriend?” Lorcan shot back.

“A stupid one.”

“Obviously.”

Lorcan ran a hand down his face. “Where are Aedion and Dorian?  We can just chuck them in the dumpster for us.”

“Ah, well, they are maintaining our cover at the bar,” Rowan said.

Yes.  It was official.  Lorcan hated Rowan.  And Aelin.  Of course she was behind this.

Cursing, Lorcan sighed.  “You could have at least warned me.” He gestured down to his clothes, nice jeans and an expensive button up Elide had gifted him for their two-month anniversary.

Rowan brightened.  “Oh, I actually came prepared.”

Not five minutes later Rowan was throwing a thick blue jumpsuit at him, complete with rubber gloves.

“Fenrys might have committed a felony to help me out,” Rowan explained.

Lorcan zipped up his jumpsuit over his clothes and sighed.  He really didn’t want to do this.  He glanced to the dumpster then at Rowan.

“You know I’m allergic to peanuts, right?  What happens if someone just left a giant tub of peanut butter in there?  My throat closes up and everything.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and muttered a few curses under his breath, completely ignoring Lorcan.

“Do you want to give me mouth to mouth in that sort of situation?” Lorcan added. “Hell no.”

“Lorcan,” Rowan said.

“Hell no,” Lorcan repeated.

“Get in the dumpster or I tell Elide how you really feel about her.”

Several vicious curses flew out of Lorcan’s mouth.  “Mother-loving blackmail.  Dammit Whitethorn.”

“Get in the dumpster lover boy.”

“It had better be one impressive ring,” Lorcan muttered and he approached the dumpster.  Sending prayers up to whatever gods were listening, he launched himself into the trash pile.

#

It was worse than he’d imagined.

At least Rowan had also had the foresight to bring back up shoes. But Lorcan could have lived without feeling his socks getting soaked by some mystery liquid.  

“Oh I hate you,” Lorcan muttered.  He tossed another garbage sack out of the way.  They all looked the same and Rowan had no idea what brand of garbage sacks he used.

The cheap ones, he’d said.

Sure, because having a 401k and benefits meant you had to skimp on things like decent garbage bags.

“It’s not like you can get the plastic embroidered with your name,” Rowan added as they still had no luck finding the right bag.

“What kind of stuff are we looking for?” Lorcan asked.

“Mail,” Rowan shrugged.  He tore open a black bag and gagged.  “This was not my smartest idea.”

“No?  Really?” Lorcan snorted in derision.

Of all the things he’d done, Lorcan was sure this was the most disgusting.  Even worse than trudging through a pig farm with his foster brother while trying to run away from home when they were ten.

“What were you even hiding from Aelin anyways?” Lorcan finally asked.

Rowan tucked his nose in the collar of his shirt a moment and looked way.  If Lorcan wasn’t mistaken he was sure he saw a flush rise on his friends cheeks.

“Rowan?”

“It..I...you wouldn’t understand,” Rowan finally said.

Lorcan’s brows shot up.  “I wouldn’t understand?  Then why am I out here digging through trash with you?  Why not bring Aedion or Dorian and leave me at the bar?”

“That’s not,” Rowan began.  He paused.  It was the first time in a very long time that Lorcan had seen the silver haired man flustered.  “I got a ring.”

A banana peel smooshed in Lorcan’s grasp.  He shook it off with a curse and stared at Rowan.  “You got a what?”

“A ring,” Rowan repeated.  “I got Aelin an engagement ring.”

“You don’t even live together,” Lorcan said.  

“We practically do,” Rowan said. “Seriously.  My closet is full of more of her close than mine.  Not to mention how often I find her underwear lying around.”

“Stop,” Lorcan demanded.  He was tempted to find the moldy cup-noodle he’d just passed over and toss it at Rowan’s face.

The two stilled.  Distant sounds of the city passed around them.  Occasionally a siren shrilled or voices shouted back and forth.  A car backfired.

Lorcan finally found what he wanted to say. “You’re serious? You guys have only been dating a year.”

“I love her.” Rowan’s words were so genuine and sincere that Lorcan found himself sneering.

Love.  What did any of them know about it?

Rowan could tease him about being in love with Elide all he wanted, but was he?  Really?  Lorcan had no idea.  Every time he thought he was he found himself doubting everything.

His only experience with love had been an elusive relationship spanning four hundred miles and eight months with Essar.  They’d met every other weekend spending barely a day together with phone calls few and far between.  And Lorcan had thought...well he had thought that had been pretty damn great until Essar had called it off saying she found someone in her neighborhood.  Two months later she was engaged.

Not that Lorcan was mad or hung up about it.  Not really.  Because, he supposed, he’d only had surface feelings about Essar.  But with Elide...there was nothing surface or superficial about the way he felt about her.

But was it love?  Lorcan had no idea.

“Come on,” Rowan said after Lorcan had remained quiet for too long. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way about Elide.”

Lorcan shrugged.  “We’ve been together five months.”

“And?”

“And what, Whitethorn?”  Lorcan held a bag of trash in either hand. “How am I supposed to feel?  It’s Elide.  You know her.  You know what she’s been through.  And you know me.  I’m the worst possible person for her.  Hell, for anyone.”

Rowan nodded silently along, pursing his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“A bigger idiot than the man who threw out an engagement ring?”

“I wanted it to be romantic,” Rowan said defensively.  He opened his mouth to speak again when he stilled.  “Oh hell.”

Lorcan glared. “If I hear a single dog start barking, I am going to murder you.”

“It’s Aelin,” Rowan hissed.  He flapped a hand trying to get Lorcan to shut up.

“How could you possibly know that?” Lorcan asked, but then he heard the very definite sound of Aelin’s laughter.

The two men looked at each other for a split second before dropping down into the piles of trash.

“Rowan, I swear,” Lorcan snarled.

“Shut up.”

The two stilled and listened as Aelin’s voice came closer.

“I can’t believe you left your laptop here.”  Lysandra, by the sounds of it, was not pleased.  “Do you really need it?”

“Yes,” Aelin replied.  “And I can’t have Rowan bring it, after what happened with my car at the impound lot.”

“Did you ever get the full story about that?” Lysandra asked.  “It sounds like some weird stuff happened.”

“Apparently Rowan and Lorcan have a secret society,” Aelin said.

Their voices disappeared.  Neither man moved for several moments.

“What do we do?” Lorcan asked.  His face was pressed entirely too close to some old chinese food.  

“I’m not leaving without that ring,” Rowan said.

“I’m telling Aelin you threw her ring in the dumpster, just so you know,” Lorcan said.

Rowan grunted.  He was probably just grateful Lorcan had stopped calling Aeling “fire-breathing bitch queen.”  

They hurriedly began sifting through more trash.

“I think I found it,” Rowan practically yelled.  He hauled up a white trash bag and grinned at it.

“Well find the damned ring and--” Lorcan began, but he cut himself off when Lysandra’s voice rang out.

Cursing, the men dropped back into the trash.

“I’m telling you, you’re reading too much into it,” Lysandra said.

“He’s been acting so weird,” Aelin replied. “It’s the second weekend in a row he’s been busy or made plans or whatever that haven’t been date night.”

“Aelin,” Lysandra groaned.  They came to a stop just beside the dumpster. “You literally sound just like Elide, I’m going to slap you.”

“I’m serious,” Aelin said.  “He only got like this when he gave me a key to his place.  And then when he got that new job.  He’s going to break-up with me.”

“No he’s not,” Lysandra nearly shouted. “Just breath.  Every couple has their off weeks.”

Aelin let out a sigh. 

“Come on,” Lysandra said, “or else Elide and Manon will have drunk all the margaritas without us.”

Silence again.

“You’re an idiot Rowan,” Lorcan said.

“Shut up.”

#

They found the ring.

Which was a good thing because Lorcan had also found an abandoned wrench at the bottom of the dumpster that would make a very good weapon of mass destruction to use against Rowan, if necessary.  

After hauling themself out of the trash, they sat next to the dumpster for a long while.  They’d long become accustomed to the stench that would likely be a perpetual stain on their skin.

“Why would Aelin think I’m going to break-up with her?” Rowan asked suddenly.

“What?” Lorcan glanced over at his friend. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard her and Lys talking, she thinks I’m breaking up with her,” Rowan said.  “Why would she think that unless it’s something already in her head.”

Lorcan groaned.  He did not want to deal with this.  This was Aedion territory.  Dorian territory.  Hell even Chaol had gotten good at this sort of advice giving crap.

“Lorcan I’m serious.”

“Man,” Lorcan said.  He banged his head against the dumpster once. “How the hell should I know?  You both love each other right?  You spend every waking hour around each other.”

“We don’t live together,” Rowan said. “What if this is moving too fast.  She’s been through a lot in the boyfriend arena.”

“Rowan,” Lorcan said, reaching out to punch his friend roughly in the shoulder. “You’ve been happier in the last year with Aelin than I have ever seen you been before.  You said it yourself, she makes you want to do better and be better.  Or whatever Hallmark crap it was you spat out.”

Rowan snorted, shaking his head. “I see why Elide keeps you around.”

The night continued around them. Cars on the street passed by in a flurry despite the late hour. Lorcan barely paid it any attention, grateful they were tucked back in the alley.

“I think Aelin is just scared of losing you,” Lorcan said quietly. Rowan shifted giving Lorcan an incredulous look.  “I'm serious. They way she looks at you, man. The both of you are happier around each other and losing that happiness would terrify anyone.”

“And here I was thinking you were hoping she and I would break up.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. Maybe a part of him had wanted that, in the early days. Bit that was back when life had been screwing him over time and time again. Back when he'd known Aelin as the competitive piano player, the girl who never took no for an answer, who seemingly had no soul when it came to dealing with problems.

Lorcan was convinced all of those things we're still true and forever would be, but he'd also seen how Aelin used those personality traits to help others. Elide in particular.

“Yeah well,” Lorcan finally said, “Aelin owes me fifty bucks from poker last week so until she pays me back she can stick around.”

Rowan’s phone gave a buzz and he reached over to look at it.  He swore lightly. “Aedion and Dorian are wasted.”

After Rowan lent Lorcan a change of clothes, they went to pick up Dorian and Aedion from the bar.  The two were indeed wasted.

“Just so you know,” Rowan said as they drove back to Elide and Aelin’s, “you should tell Elide how you feel.”

“Why do you guys smell like you spent the night in a dumpster?” Dorian complained.  He rolled down the window of Rowan’s car and stuck his head out.  

Aedion muttered something incomprehensible as he flopped over into Dorians lap.

The two sober men ignored them.

“I’ve decided to never take advice from you,” Lorcan told Rowan. “And this is the last time I help you with anything.”

“I’m going to need help setting up how I’m going to ask Aelin,” Rowan said.  He glanced in the back to see that Dorian and Aedion were completely passed out.

“No dogs and no dumpsters,” Lorcan said.  “You’ll be fine.”

Rowan barked out a laugh and shook his head.  Grinning, Lorcan shot Elide a text telling her they were on their way, two drunk men in tow.

As they passed through the city, Lorcan pondered what would happen if he did admit how deep his feelings for Elide ran.  Maybe he would turn out like Rowan--giddy and happy to the point he was literally walking on water.  Lorcan wouldn’t mind feeling like that all the time.

So as he glanced at the ring box Rowan tucked in the drink holder between the front seats he decided that both he and Elide deserved to be disgustingly in love.  Even if it meant Elide would insist on getting a dog.  

[therainroguefanfiction]

🤾 Tryhard; Atsuhiro “Mr. Compress” Sako (Sportember #017)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,902

Pairing: Quirkless Reader x Compress

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: “Why do you try so hard?”

Sport: Dodgeball

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Sako frowned as he watched you running through the park, just as you did every night at eight. You had no regard for your safety, out late at night as a quirkless, headphones in your ears as loud music blocked out the sounds around you. He thought you were utterly stupid, perhaps having a desire to be kidnapped or murdered. You were certainly making yourself an easy target and he had already intercepted several thugs in the past three months that he had been watching you.

Why did he feel the need to protect you when you had no desire to make things easy for him? For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that he had fallen in love with you, but he had never really been a man to believe in love at first sight. However, when he first met you in that coffee shop three months ago, he knew there was something special about you, something different.

In that time, he had gotten to know you as he watched you. Your name was Y/N and even though you didn’t have a quirk, you had gotten a scholarship at the Japanese Sports Academy, or JSA. The school specialized in creating professional athletes, but the school had never seen a quirkless graduate. Sure, the school had many quirkless students, but they either never graduated or simply dropped out because of the pressure.

Sports these days focus heavily on quirks and the amount of quirkless sports around today were less than eight percent. The number went down every year because people were no longer interested in quirkless people playing a sport. They preferred the thrill of quirks battling it out on the field, threatening to destroy each other in the name of sport.

You knew these facts well. He knows that you. So why are you trying so damn hard to keep up with people that you physically can’t stand beside? The world constantly tore you down, telling you how worthless you were, how impossible your dreams were, simply because you didn’t have a quirk. So why? It made no sense to him and it hurt to see you struggling so hard only to fail in the end.

You came to a stop in front of the vending machine outside the park, breathing heavily as you wiped the sweat from your brow. There was a stitch in your side from your run, lungs burning and legs throbbing from the effort. You felt so tired, but you still have twenty minutes left in your run. You were already so behind, you couldn’t afford not to stick to your training regimen.

You slid the coins into the machine, pressing the button for the sports drink and waiting for it to fall to the tray. Just as you reached for it, another hand darted out to take it from you. Your shoulders tensed as the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your eyes locking with those of an older man. Two others stood close behind you.

Swallowing hard, you tugged one of the headphones from your ear, eyes narrowed at the man in front of you. “That’s my drink. Give it back.”

One of the men behind you snickered as he stepped closer, his hand on your shoulder. “Oh, looks like we got a feisty one, boys.”

You scowled, shrugging your shoulder as you tried to step away, but the three of them had you trapped against the machine. “If you want to keep your lives, I suggest you keep moving.” You may not have a quirk, but you had learned to fake it until you made it.

“Big talk coming from someone so small,” they snickered, exchanging amused looks.

“Why don’t you just hand over your wallet and we won’t have to hurt you.”

“Fat chance,” you scoffed, attempting to force yourself through them but the first man grabbed your arm. On reflex, you shot around and jabbed your foot into his crotch, watching him cry out as he fell to the ground.

“You bitch!”

“We’ll kill you!”

Their hands lit up as they activated their quirks – one seemed to be some form of electricity, the other sprouting green spikes. A squeak passed your lips when a spiked hand tried to grab at your face and you dodged just in time, the spike scratching the skin of your cheek. The man on the ground grabbed your ankle when you stepped back, causing your body to fall to the cement.

“Let go of me, you prick!” You scowled, using your other foot to kick at his hand, but his grip was like iron and wouldn’t let up.

“You’re gonna get it now!” They rushed at you and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the impact. The sound of screams filled your ears, the grip on your ankle disappearing and when you cracked an eye open, you found all three men a few feet away, unmoving on the ground.

You blinked, pushing yourself up. ‘What the…’

“Honestly, my dear, you really are trying to make things difficult for me.”

Your eyes snapped to the side, wide with surprise when you noticed the man standing beside you. He was quite tall, wearing a large yellow coat that covered his body like a tarp. His face was concealed behind a black and white mask, a top hat sitting on his head. You knew who he was, you had seen his picture on the TV along side the others that called themselves the League of Villains. But… this villain had just saved you, hadn’t he?

He turned toward you, extending a gloved hand toward you, the color of a ripe tomato. “Come along, now, before the cops arrive.”

You shook your head, sliding back away from him before scrambling to your feet. “You’re a villain.”

“Well, at least you have some sense,” he teased. “Now if only you applied that sense to everyday life, as well.”

You scowled, resting your back against the stone behind you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He tapped where his ear is beneath the black cloth. “Every single night you run around this neighborhood with music blaring into your ears. If you have a quirk, that would be one thing, but you do not. Have you any idea how many thugs I’ve had to take care of to keep you safe?”

“And why would you do something like that?” Your brow furrowed in confusion and he took a step closer to you.

“Hm, do I need a reason?”

“You’re a villain. You don’t save people unless you can use them.”

“Come now, Y/N. I’m not an animal,” he chided, finally closing the distance between the two of you. You should feel terrified by this man, but you didn’t. Instead, you felt… safe.

“You know my name.”

“I know many things about you, my dear. Now, won’t you come along? I will escort you home safe and sound.” His hand extended to you again and, for a moment, you just stared at it. You could hear sirens in the distance, steadily getting louder as they got closer to your position.

Your heart was thudding loudly within your chest, but you knew that if this man had the intention of hurting you or worse, killing you, that he would have done so. Better yet, he would have just allowed the thugs to do it for him. No, he was not intent on harming you, that much you were sure of.

Swallowing down the lump that had formed within your throat, you slid your hand into his, watching as his fingers curled around it. Your life changed that night.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

Sako rolled over in bed, his hand instinctively reaching out for you beside him, but the bed was empty, the sheets cold beneath his fingertips. His brown eyes squinted in the darkness, fumbling for his phone on the bedside table. Four in the morning. Where could you possibly be at four in the morning?

Throwing the covers back, he shifted until his bare feet rested against the soft brown carpet of the room. He checked the bathroom first, and then the living room, but the apartment was empty. With a sigh, he knew exactly where he would find you, so he quickly got changed and headed out.

Your breathing was heavy as you jogged on the treadmill, music blasting through your ears to try and motivate you to push yourself. You thought about the upcoming exams and you were determined to pass them, no matter the cost.

Sako stepped into the small gym that the apartment complex offered, his eyes scanning the empty room before settling on you. As usual, you were unaware of anything happening around you. With a sigh, he stepped up to you before tugging on the cord of your headphones, watching it fall from your ear.

Your head snapped to him in confusion before giving him a sheepish smile and turning off the machine, accepting the water bottle that he offered you. “Morning, Hiro…”

He hummed softly. “While I do appreciate that you’re no longer jogging at night, I would appreciate it if you actually slept sometimes.”

“I did sleep,” you pointed out. “We fell asleep together, remember?”

“For how long?” He quirked a brow, his hand resting upon his hip.

“Two hours.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, my love.”

You sighed, settling down onto one of the plastic chairs sitting under the window. “I know, it’s just… the exams are coming up soon. I have to train harder in order to keep up.”

He frowned as he squatted down in front of you, eyes scanning yours as he rested his hand upon your knee. “Why do you try so hard?” he mused softly. “The world will only hurt you.”

“Why?” You repeated with a smile, resting your hand over his. He was surprised by the warmth lingering within your eyes. “Maybe it will, but I won’t know that for sure until I try. This has been my dream since I was a child, the thing I based my whole life around. I know dodgeball isn’t the most popular sport, especially not for a quirkless like me, but… it’s a sport that I adore, that I grew up playing. If I don’t at least try and chase my dreams, then I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I know you don’t understand, but…”

“You’re right, I don’t understand.” His free hand came to rest upon your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin. “However, I will support you in whatever you choose to do with your life. Forever and always, my love.”

You smiled, tugging him closer until his lips met yours, soft and warm, and full of love as he pushed himself against you, hand sliding to your jaw to pull you closer. Sako would probably never understand your feelings when it came to how hard you tried at sports, but he didn’t have to understand in order to support your dreams.

His forehead rested against yours as you brushed a hand through his short brown hair. “I love you so much. Never forget that.”

You chuckled in response, giving his hair a gentle tug. “How could I possibly forget when you tell me every day?”

“Don’t act as if you don’t enjoy it,” he teased, capturing your lips again.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

[trillian-anders]

chambers - ii

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Angst

Word Count: 4429

Description: Post-Endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Very loosely based on the Netflix series of the same name.)

Frequent colds, high blood pressure, heart palpitations, asthma, anxiety, prior suffering of scarlet fever and rheumatic fever, and a family history of stroke, diabetes, cancer, and heart disease. Thanks Dad. 

The enlistment office was cold. The plastic chair they had him in was sticking against the backs of his thin thighs. You’ve never been this thin in your entire life. Your breathing--Steve’s breathing--was fine for now, but you could feel a rattling beginning in your chest. Just trying to get through this enlistment examination and then we can go home, light a fire, and eat the last tin of beans. 

“Rogers.” The man examined you, took a deep sigh and stamped your papers. 4F. Denied. 

This was the first one, in Brooklyn. The war has just started. Steve was trying to jump into the wagon early, trying against all odds to get his feet on the ground overseas. Do what he can, just like Dad did in the War to End All Wars. It’s too bad the war didn’t live up to its name. These memories came to you as you sat in a similar situation.

You were in grey shorts and a matching t shirt, Avengers logo in black on each in a lab, waiting for the man you had an appointment with. You jokingly thought to yourself about what it would have been like to fight in a war, lay your life on the line for a good noble cause, and you had to remind yourself that you truly hoped those memories never came to surface. 

You swallowed roughly, shifting on the sterile paper beneath you, waiting. There was a two way mirror here, you remembered. As you looked at it you wondered who would be watching on the other side. Coming to see the freak who possesses the heart of Captain America. You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky yet, thank god. Two hours ago a car showed up in front of your building and brought you to a jet bringing you to the compound, no sign of the super soldier or his winged friend in sight. You supposed you couldn’t blame them. This is a really strange situation to say the least. 

It also didn’t hurt that you knew them in a severely intimate way whereas you were a complete stranger to them. It was also strange that you missed them, terribly. Your heart ached for them. Steve’s heart ached for them. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” Two people entered the room, Bruce and Wanda. Your heart ached a little more. It was almost like reuniting with an old friend, you wonder if things will be the same, pick up right where you left off, the closeness you felt. But that’s Steve talking, not you. “I’m Bruce Banner and this is Wanda Maximoff,” the gentle giant offered with a soft smile, “but I’m sure you already knew that.” 

“It’s so strange,” You expressed, “Feeling like I know all of you so well, but being a complete stranger.” You laughed nervously and wrapped your arms around your middle, swinging your feet slightly as they hung off the edge of the examining table. 

“I couldn’t imagine honestly,” Bruce moved closest to you, Wanda opting to stay by the door. “Okay so first I’m going to take some blood if that’s okay with you?” He pulled a tray out from a medical drawer, setting it up beside you. 

“Of course,” You smiled softly. The trust in Bruce was intense. You knew Steve fought beside him. You have distinct memories from the Battle of New York, but more than that the nights of eating take out at the kitchen counter and listening to him babble about isolating samples of Caps blood to synthesize cures for disease, but also how he couldn’t imagine creating a world of super soldiers so the idea was nixed as soon as he spat it out. Bruce Banner had a good moral compass. He can be trusted. 

He quickly worked, wrapping a medical tourniquet onto your arm and finding a vein, filling six vials of blood. He bandaged you and removed the tourniquet just as quickly. 

“So you have these flashbacks right?” Bruce asked as he labeled the vials, “You have seizures during?”

“Not always, but it always involves some sort of passing out.” He nods, scribbling notes on his notepad. 

“And the agents in the alley?”

“No clue,” You admitted honestly. “My body,” Looking down at your hands, “It moved on its own, I had no control.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay, well today is going to be strictly medical, but I would like to talk to you about some of the tests we would like to run, if you consent to them.” It was hard. The decision seemed so easy. Let them test so that you can figure out what the hell is going on and hopefully put a stop to it, but also you’d been poked and prodded your whole life. 

You were born with the heart condition. You’ve literally been having surgeries since the day you were born. What if it never ends? What if they never find out why you and Steve are so connected? What if they do and you can’t keep the heart? 

“Whatever outcome, we will not put your life at risk.” This was the first time Wanda has spoken during this entire visit. Your eyes flicked over to hers. A maternal instinct bloomed in your chest. Steve had a fond love for her, when she was parted from Ultron and her brother died she had leaned hard into Clint, but when Clint retired, Steve took his place. Making sure she was okay, making sure she practiced wielding her powers, making sure she ate everyday. That same affection could be found in you now, your eyes teared at the thought. “We will figure this out and keep you alive, even if it means getting you a new heart.” 

It was what you needed to hear and she knew it. Part of her powers, but also she knew you would trust her. You nodded your head, looking back to Bruce. “Let's do it.” 

You knew this memory. You HATED this memory. 

Bucky Barnes. The handsome, charismatic, Bucky Barnes. James the dames would sigh as he nibbled their ears. He was screaming and there was nothing you could do to stop it. These videos you were obsessed with looking for clues. Where would he go? How could you find him? Sam was looking, but every day that Bucky was gone was a day his trail grew colder and colder. 

He was strapped into a metal chair, skin damp, ice still trapped in his hair. They had just woken him up, strapping him into the chair, electrodes coming to lay over his face and he fucking screamed. It was horrifying, why were you torturing yourself like this. You should have gone back to that ravine and retrieved his body. You weren’t even sure where he fell, but you should have searched that whole fucking mountain to find him. He would have for you. 

You let him down.

You fucking let him down. 

A gasp and you were awake. Damp with sweat you swung your legs over the side of your bed, panting. The guilt. So consuming. Your stomach churned and you quickly found your way to the bathroom, dropping to your knees in order to wretch into the toilet. Body shivering from the cold. You placed a hand over your now racing heart, crying against the porcelain. You missed Bucky.

You didn’t even know Bucky. 

Your heart was aching for him. Fuck. It had been a week since your initial visit with Bruce other than taking your blood and giving you a normal checkup not much else was done. He wanted to go easy on you, give you a little time to adjust and come to terms with your newfound anomaly. And for whatever reason right now you really wanted to run. Like… for stress relief. When has that thought ever crossed your mind? Who even were you? 

Oh right, Steve was a runner. You could remember him lapping Sam Wilson on multiple occasions as they took their morning runs together. Your body burned with energy and you checked the time, it was 5 am. You had closed the bar last night and didn’t get home until one. 

“Four hours of sleep.” You groaned. “Fucking great.” This itch wouldn’t give up so you dusted off your old gym shoes and strapped yourself into a sports bra, jacket, and sweats and you were out the door. 

Running. At 5 am. Who would have fucking thought. 

Old City was close, and you found yourself finding it. Not many cars out this early, but they’d grow in number to gridlock during rush hour. As you pounded the pavement, passing building after building, block after block you found yourself not even close to being out of breath, the energy not even close to being diminished. If you couldn’t get rid of this massive rush of energy you had been feeling then a mid morning nap was out of the question, and you had to be back at work at four. 

You picked up the pace, passing Independence Hall, running the museum mile, before running back towards the direction of your apartment. You were flying. You’ve never run so fast in your life. You were running faster than the cars were driving on the still mildly empty streets. This was wild. 

You weren’t a runner, but Steve Rogers was. It was almost like in the alley, where your body just sorta went and your brain followed. It was Steve’s body right now, you were just along for the ride. 

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked up the steps, adrenaline wearing off. You just barely made it inside your door before you collapsed on the ground in extreme pain. It felt like you tore every muscle in your legs, you let out a silent scream trying not to wake your neighbors, fumbling for your phone. You couldn’t move your legs. 

So you did the only thing you knew to do, you called Bruce. 

Since Steve’s death Bucky Barnes liked doing one thing and one thing only. Staying busy. Anything that crossed Fury’s desk, big or small, he wanted it and he would fight every other agent in the compound in order to get it. You need some simple recon on a businessman you think might have connections to old Hydra sympathizers? He’s on it. You need someone to go in a diffuse a bomb? He’s on it. You need someone to come get your cat out of a tree, please stop him on the side of the road. He’s begging you. 

It hurt bad enough when Steve said he was going to stay with Peggy. He resigned to the fact that his very selfless friend deserves to do a very selfish thing. He wanted Steve to be happy, and when you love someone you’ll let them be happy no matter the personal cost. But when Steve returned as an old man, and he had to physically watch him waste and die. That was probably something he could never forgive Steve for. He just couldn’t.

The coffee in his cup was basically water. The cheap motel Sam got them a room in was a fucking joke. Two single beds, a coffee maker from the 70s, and he didn’t even want to think about what was embedded in the shag carpet. Shit thing was they were leaving today, mission was over, recon was successful, information on a new budding cartel trafficking humans overseas was obtained. Procedure had them going back to report to Fury, getting a stat on how many people they should bring and what approach and then they’ll be back on the field. 

He can’t wait. 

Sam threw the now full duffel on the floor by the front door, turning to his friend. “I need a fucking break Bucky.” He groaned, stretching out his back. Bucky scoffed, 

“Then take a fucking break Sam.” He finished off his coffee, tossing the cup in the trash and picking up his own duffel. Sam looked at him wearily. 

“You need a break too.” Sam told Bucky as they left the motel room. The small plane they had taken over here sat for them 2 km into the woods behind this dingy motel, and that’s where they were headed, ready to take a quick flight home. 

“I don’t need a break,” Bucky protested, “I know when I need to take a break.” 

Sam looked at Bucky incredulously, “You literally got stabbed last week and hours later went back out on another mission. You’re taking a break.” Two duffels thrown into chairs on the plane, Bucky sitting himself in the pilot’s seat. A red, silver, and blue shield sat between them as Sam took his own seat in copilot. 

“I don’t need a break, not yet.” Sam rolled his eyes, beginning take off procedure. 

“You’re gonna have to deal with it sometime my man.” Bucky rolled his eyes at that, “Holding things in-”

“Don’t go all VA on me right now birdbrain.” Sam stared at Bucky a moment longer, trying to pick his next words out carefully. 

“Buck-” Saved by the bell. A phone ringing in Sam’s pocket. He pulled the cell out looking at Bruce’s name flashing across the screen. “Bruce? What’s-” Bucky stared him down, heart jumping at the prospect of flying somewhere else, anywhere but home. Sam quickly hung up, buckling his seat belt. “We gotta go to Philly, pick Y/N up.” Bucky’s heart dropped. He didn’t want that. 

“You’ve torn every muscle in your legs.”  Bruce plainly stated. You were currently in the cradle created by Helen Cho. “Just by running?” Your mouth opened and quickly shut again, shrugging. 

“Fast, I was running so fast.” Your eyes scanned the ceiling as you felt the machine slowly repairing the muscles of your legs. Bucky Barnes scoffed beside you, grunting when Sam elbowed him in his ribs. 

“Like-”

“Like….,” You looked over to Sam and Bucky before turning your eyes back to Bruce, “Steve fast.” Bruce stared at you a moment before looking away. He walked over to the large glass windows on the opposite side of the room. Not speaking. Thinking. 

“How is that possible? Muscle memory sure, but your body shouldn’t be able to move that way. Steve’s top speed is 60 mph.” You looked at him wide eyed. 

“Maybe that’s why her legs are shredded.” Bucky said with some humor. He was being a dick. Why was he being a dick? Sam glared at him. 

“Go file the report Buck, I’ll catch you up later.” Bucky turned to his friend with a glare, 

“Why do I have to-”

“I’ll catch you up later.” He said sternly. Bucky called it his Captain’s voice. Like the one Steve would use when he knew something you didn’t and you just needed to follow him. Into battle or just to leave the room. Bucky acquiesced, but not before casting one more glance at you in the cradle, hands clasped over your belly, looking at him with wet eyes. 

“So your body has this muscle memory of the activities Steve used to do,” Bruce began to pace. “Running and fighting-”

“Steve was really good at art too.” Sam offered. He took a seat in a chair by Bruce’s pacing, between you and the green giant. “That would be a safe activity to see if you’d be just as good.” You nodded in agreement. 

“But for the more dangerous activities, your mind seems to think you’re able to do them. So the real issue are instances like this, where your mind goes and your body follows no matter the cost.” Bruce was looking at you now, thinking about how to proceed next. 

“And this is a pretty high cost.” You said. Both men agreed.

…

The report was on Fury’s desk an hour later. Bucky’s hands gripping the leather chair across from him as his eye scanned the pages. “So what’s next?” Bucky asked. Like an addict asking for a fix. Fury studied him for a moment. “I can be ready to go back in with a task force in four hours, quick nap, time to clean my guns-”

“You’re suspended from missions until further notice.” Fury threw the folder onto his desk, waiting for the backlash. 

“What?” Bucky’s heart started racing. Fucking Sam. 

“Sam recommended it, but I was already going to suspend you until you can get your head on straight. I just needed a second person to sign off.” Bucky studied him for a moment. Trying to detect the lie. 

“I’m fine, I need to be back out on the field.” Bucky gestured to the window behind him where recruits were running drills. “Who else are you going to use?” 

“We have agents other than you Barnes.” He sounds tired, “You haven’t been out of the field since Steve died and we have an issue that came up that I know you don’t want anything to do with. It’s not good for you.” 

“So this is about her?” Bucky thought back to your wet eyes, he felt guilty for being such an ass. It just sorta came out without thinking. He had a hard time doing that when he was in front of you, thinking. 

When they went to pick you up, Sam hadn’t given him any warning in what they were about to walk into. They found you where you had fallen, sobbing in pain, body going into shock. He felt himself stunned. Your legs were black and blue, every inch of skin bruised. Sam yelled something at him he couldn’t hear and he watched Sam pick you up from the floor, clearly hearing the whimpering of pain you were steadily released from your body.  

His heart fell to the floor as your half lidded eyes met his, unfocused. 

It was terrifying. At first he felt some anger well up, who had done this to you? How did this happen? But when it was revealed that you had done it to yourself, that your muddled mind and heart caused you to run 60 mph into complete muscle destruction he found himself angry at you. It’s not her fault, he tried to remind himself, how could it be her fault?

He found himself, not for the first time, angry with Steve. It left him confused and broken. Steve on his deathbed. In a hospital, doctors ready to take his heart as soon as he took his last breath. It was planned. Steve had been in the hospital for a month before he died, no one knew why he was getting EKG’s almost daily and why he was moved so closely to the operating wing. He didn’t tell anyone. He was leaving his heart to her. Without even knowing her. What a good fucking guy. Bucky hated him for it. Barely getting to mourn before they carted him out into the OR to cut him open and shift his bloody, healthy heart into a woman who had a weak and dying one. 

It was hard. This was hard. 

“This is about you Barnes.” Fury leaned over his desk, folding his hands in front of him. “You continue doing this and you’ll be liable for a mistake. We can’t afford mistakes. Not when we are finally gaining ground back. You’re suspended from field work effective immediately, if you want to make yourself useful around here train some recruits, organize some files, or maybe help Bruce in the lab. His hands are pretty full.” With that he was dismissed. Fists meeting a punching bag not soon after. 

“What am I going to do?” You cried softly. “I can’t keep my job if I have to take a month off.” Bruce looked up at her from his microscope, the cradle still working on the muscles in her legs. 

“You’re on your feet for 12 hours a day,” Bruce explained, “You’re basically getting a new pair of legs right now, you’re gonna have to take it easy for a while.” 

“I’m sure we can pick up your bills.” Sam offered, “If that’s what you’re worried about.” You shake your head, hands coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“I won’t have a job to go back to,” You explained, “They’ll replace me.” Sam sighed and put down the Sudoku book he had been working on. 

“I’m saying this because it’s what Steve would have wanted Y/N.” He looked at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. “We will do whatever it takes to make sure you are taken care of.” You knew Sam was a good guy. You knew he worked at the VA not because he needed the money but because he genuinely cared about the people there. And you knew he helped Steve when the whole world was against him. Twice. 

“I don’t want you to feel-” you started, being cut off by Bruce,

“This is not an obligation. We want to help you, all of us do.” Bruce offered, “Not just because it’s what Steve would have wanted but also because this is a terrifying situation and we want you to be able to live a long, healthy life with or without these life altering issues.” He stood from his chair, bringing papers over and adjusting his glasses. “You’ll need to rest. For a while. I’m still examining your blood and tomorrow I’d like to get a look at your heart for myself, would that be okay?” 

You sighed heavily before replying, “Yeah, that would be okay.” 

Your legs were still sore, even after spending 12 hours in the cradle. You weren’t able to walk yet. Wanda was kind enough to help you use the restroom and helped you into the room they were going to have you staying in temporarily. “Do you want to make a list of items and their locations in your apartment you’d like me to bring here?” She asked. 

“Am I not going home?” She turned to look at you like she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. 

“Well…” She had given you half chicken, 2 sweet potatoes, and  a bowl broccoli with a large pat of butter. Bruce said you needed nutrients and a lot of them. “We can’t risk you doing something to your body that we won't be able to repair. Just until the testing is done. I’m sorry.” She played with the ends of her hair. “I thought they already told you. I’m sure they’re going to ask you tomorrow.” You sighed, rubbing the scar on your chest gently before looking up at Wanda.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You were starving. “I understand.” She gave you a soft look you couldn’t really read before turning the tv on, working with you to find something to watch as you ate your dinner. You were the hungriest you’d ever been in your life. While in the cradle you were given snacks, but it was hard to eat completely laying down. The work your body was put through by the cradle repairing your muscles caused a major calorie deficit, and the fatigue you’ve been feeling all day was the price you’d been paying. 

You almost choked halfway through eating, looking up from your plate to the television screen and seeing Steve Rogers staring back at you. He looked so real, the young Captain America, the person he was before the battle for the infinity stones. The Steve Rogers he was on every poster and war movie. What is happening?

Wanda’s hand began to pat your back as you tried to clear your airways, “Breathe, c’mon breathe.”

“Breathe, c’mon breathe.” Bucky’s hand was hard against your back, you couldn’t get air. “C’mon pal, that’s it.” It was a wet feeling in your throat, coughing the lard wad of mucus into the handkerchief held in Bucky’s palm. Gasping for breath Bucky was quick to toss the soiled napkin to the side, bringing your inhaler up to your mouth, thin weak hands coming up to grasp it as you inhaled the medicine, feeling your lungs expand and relax. “You okay?”

You could feel a rattle still in your chest. “Yeah I’m fine.” Steve was sick, which wasn’t anything new. You could feel the embarrassment. 

“I hate you being here alone.” Bucky stood from his chair next to the bed, getting up to turn the radio down a few decibels. “You could come move in with us? Ma loves you.” You could feel yourself shake your head. 

“I’ve lived in this apartment my whole life Buck.” 

“Then I’ll move in here! You can move into your Ma’s room and I’ll take your old room Stevie.” You sighed, resting your back against the pillows Bucky had so carefully propped against your back. “You won’t be able to afford this place forever doing sketches for funnies. You’ve barely got any food in the icebox.” 

“If you want to move in here Buck I’m not against it, but I’m staying right where I am.” Bucky nodded, hands on his hips turning to face his frail friend. 

“I make enough money at the canary that we should be just fine here Stevie.” This was a year before Bucky was sent off for war. A year and a half before Steve became Captain America. You wondered if either of them could sense what was coming. 

The piece of chicken that had been lodged in your throat was soon popped out and floated midair with a red energy surrounding it. Wanda had pulled it from your throat. Steve was gone. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, worry evident in her voice. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, losing your appetite. “I think I should go to bed.” You pushed the tray away from you and leaned back against your pillows. In that moment you could feel the Steve. Like a layer on top of your own body. His frail one, shivering with a chill he couldn’t shake, lungs rattling, weak. 

“If you need anything at all just alert FRIDAY.” You nodded, ignoring her worried eyes as she left the room. You needed to sleep.

You were exhausted and this day felt three days long. You just needed to sleep. So far away from everything that was going on here. And you were praying against all odds that Steve wouldn’t follow you there either. 

Those prayers went unanswered. 

.

.

.

@albinotigerpython​ @nutellakirb​ @witch-of-letters​ @torntaltos​

[moonshroooms]

So like, here’s a part-angst-part-fluff Ponytail!Dib AU oneshot here ya go! I kinda imagined this lil scenario to be after but not-too-long after these Sad Idiots confessed their Undying Love to each other (I’m totally positive that’s the exact scenario reyna’s gonna take her au, trust me on this I’m a doctor).

Now the beginning of this is definitely more angst and Sad but it do get cuter at the end I promise VwV But anyways, here! *throws this on the ground and runs away*

=

Dib laid out all the ingredients on the counter, double checking he had everything the recipe called for. Flour, eggs, sugar, check, check, check. Getting everything without alerting Zim what he was up to had been more than a challenge but somehow he’d managed to get past the sneaky bug. All that was left to do was wait for Zim to be busy long enough to enact his plan.

“Alright, it’s a shortcake, how hard could it be?” He pulled up the recipe on his phone, mumbling to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice taunted that he’d mess it up somehow. He mentally shoved it into a box and sealed the lid. It’s fine, he’d be fine. Just follow the instructions, he could do that.

With his best attempt at a determined nod Dib opened up the flour, pulling a large bowl out of the cupboard, giving a glance at the instructions.

“Mix strawberries with sugar and ffuh mhmm…” His sentence trailed off as his brain rewired itself to focus on the strawberries. “Alright, strawberries first, then.” He dumped the carton of berries in a little bowl of their own, scooping out a few spoonfuls of sugar and stirring. And put them in the fridge. Okay, step one done. See? Wasn’t so bad. A part of him felt kind of dump pep-talking himself, but he knew how much his self-deprecation bothered Zim, so he was trying to fight it. Most said step one was talking positively, even if you didn’t really believe it, so that’s what he was gonna do.

Dib pulled out the flour and measured it, pouring it in the mixing bowl once it was at the right level. Next was baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and heavy cream. Dib ran his eyes across the bottle of cream for not the first time. The store didn’t exactly have just “heavy cream.” “Heavy whipping cream,” it read. The names were pretty close and he was going to try and make whipped cream anyways. It was probably the same, right? He couldn’t find anything saying it was different (not that he found anything saying it was the same, either). Somewhere that voice trapped in the box whispered that he was already fucking up. He was probably fine. If it was the only one the store had it was probably the most common one anyways.

As he mixed the ingredients together Dib allowed his mind to wander. That cold winter in his car, being sick in his apartment, lunch after lunch of carefully crafted meals, all wrapped in hearts and flowers. He found himself thinking about those times a lot. A large part of him laughed, wondering how he was able to jump through so many hoops to explain why Zim would go through all that trouble, what nefarious plot they could possibly be apart of, when the answer was (quite literally) written in front of him. A larger part said he was stupid if he really thought this was real, that this wasn’t just some long con at his expense and the ball would drop soon enough.

It wasn’t surprising the lunches were on his mind now, anyways. It’s what spurred the baking adventure he was currently on. Zim tried so hard despite Dib’s bad attitude, his denial, even his blatant refusal to eat at times. He wanted to return the favor, at least a little bit.

Dib let out a sigh as the mixture was finally done, rolling his shoulder a bit. Somehow the mixing was surprisingly tiring. Sure, he could keep up with the plots of an alien invader with technology far more advanced than his own since he was 12, but mixing cake batter was the real test of strength. Repetitive motion, he supposed. He poured the mix into the baking pan and stuffed it in the oven. Oh, shit, he forgot to preheat it. Did anyone really even do that? Seemed like a waste of power, honestly. He set his phone timer for an extra 10 minutes than the recipe called for, hoping that’d make up for it.

Alright, all that was left to do was the whipped cream. He was breezing through this recipe! He could almost imagine the look on Zim’s face when he got back. Sure, Dib didn’t have fancy wrapping paper, and honestly, the cake would probably look like shit. But as long as it tasted fine that was the most important part, right?

Dib pulled a separate bowl from the upper cupboard, combined the whipped cream ingredients, and got to work on stirring. The recipe said to use a mixer but he didn’t exactly have one of those, so he was stuck using good ol’ elbow grease. He tried to make up for it by mixing faster but figured the speed wasn’t gonna be a huge factor in the outcome.

Or, so he thought, at least.

Five minutes of mixing later and the cream hadn’t taken on any kind of fluffy quality. Just the same white goop. It was supposed to get light and fluffy two minutes in. Did he forget something? He rechecked the recipe. Cream, sugar, vanilla, lemon zest. It was all in there. Was he just not going fast enough? Maybe the mixer was more crucial than he thought. He plopped himself on the ground and kicked his whisking up a notch. Another few minutes and the only significant change was that the goop was maybe a little thicker. That, and he definitely got a good portion of it all over his shirt. Great.

Alright, the recipe did stress the heavy cream needed to be chilled before mixing. Did he let it sit outside the fridge too long? He could leave it in the freezer for a bit, let the cold firm it up a little? He swallowed down the rising disgust at himself, he was such a fucking idiot, he didn’t even know how to fix his mistake. Yeah, that’d work. With a grunt he got to his feet-

SMACK.

“Shit, goddamn it!” Dib instantly recoiled, clutching at the back of his head where the open cupboard lovingly smacked into his skull. He slammed the door shut with bang, the loud sound satisfying his anger a little bit. Stomping over to the freezer he shoved aside the assortment of raw meats and frozen veggies (things Zim planned on cooking at some point), and stuffed the whipped cream in, slamming the door shut.

“It’s fine, you’re fine. Nothing’s ruined, it’ll be fine.” Wow you’re trying really hard to sell this, huh? Can’t even convince yourself to buy your own words without lying first.

Dib leaned against the kitchen counter, silently fuming at the throb on the back of his head. He could feel self-loathing spilling into his brain like a fog, seeping out from that mental lockbox he tried to shove it in. He shook his head and did his best to focus on the goal. Zim would be so happy Dib made him a present, he’d get to see that huge smile that had his heart squeezing funny, ruby eyes lighting up with appreciation. The idea soothed his mind a bit. He could get through a few hang-ups if he got to see that expression and…

Was something burning?

“Seriously?!” Dib yelled as he pushed away from the counter. He threw the oven open and grabbed the baking tin only to recoil back in pain as his hand came into contact with the hot metal. Dib cursed, shaking out his hand and grabbing the oven mitt staring him in the face. Sure, go ahead, just fucking break yourself while making your thank you gift. Nothing says “I appreciate you” like making him clean up your fucking mess.

The tin landed on the stove with a clatter as Dib quickly turned away to grab ice for his hand.

Only to be greeted with a freezer that had whipped cream spilled all over it. The half-empty mixing bowl clattered to the floor as the door swung open, a few splatters of not-quite-frozen whipped cream leaping to the floor as it did. No, it’s fine, it’s okay. They could always just buy whipped cream at the store. He was pretty sure Zim wasn’t allergic to normal whipped cream anyways. You can’t even put something in the fridge without fucking it up? Why are you even bothering?

Dib stuffed a few ice cubes into a plastic bag and clutched his fingers around it. With a grimace he turned off the phone timer that only decided to start ringing just now and looked over the cake. Honestly, it wasn’t even burned that much, they could just not eat the bottom. Geez, you’re really going for a record trying to screw up every stage of this project huh?

Was the cake… supposed to look like a biscuit? He tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth. Was it also supposed to taste bland as hell like a biscuit, too?

Despite the bag of ice pain stabbed through the skin of Dib’s hand anyways, only adding to the misery of his failed creation. Look, he couldn’t expect things to be perfect. It was his first time trying to bake something. Plenty of people probably messed things like this up. You couldn’t even make a damn cake. Honestly, why did you even bother trying? How many other things have you fucked up that were way easier than cooking and you couldn’t even do those right? What made you think you could get this right?

Dib slid to the floor, focusing on the quiet sting of his burned hand. He felt that urge to visit the nearby drugstore. He might’ve bought a bottle of something, too, were his wallet not thoroughly cleaned out from buying all the cake ingredients. Couldn’t get drunk if he wanted to.

And damn he wanted to right now.

Amber eyes glanced around the kitchen, taking in the few splatters of whipped cream on the floor, quickly melting into puddles now. He… could at least up the mess he made before Zim got back.

The frown on his face deepened.

Well, knowing you, you’ll probably find a way to fuck that up, too.

 =

 Zim slid the window to the apartment open, wasting no time scurrying in and ripping off his disguise. How Gir escaped view of his cameras long enough to floor half the base he’d never know. Computer wasn’t any help telling him what happened either. Zim suspected whatever started the whole “beach party” idea was both Gir and Computer’s idea.

Zim’s internal ranting didn’t have long to continue before his now-freed antenna picked up the scent of something burnt, as well as something sweet and almost… milky? Compound eyes were greeted with a less-than-clean kitchen, used and abandoned cooking utensils, and a few tiny puddles of something melted on the floor. Confusion buzzed around the Irken’s mind before worry crept up his throat when he realized he couldn’t see Dib in the small space around him.

Slow-creeping dread dropped like a rock in his gut as anxiety moved his limbs. “Dib?” Zim called, receiving no answer. As terrifying rooftop rescues were at least they were known. What was Zim supposed to do for this new situation? What was the protocol?

His panic didn’t last for long as he skidded past the kitchen and caught sight of his human’s familiar form. Relief quickly flooded over him and he ran to Dib’s side.

“Dib-beast, what happened, are you okay?”

Dib jumped a little, as if startled from sleep, and looked at Zim. “Oh, hey space boy, welcome back.”

Zim frowned. Dib had that… look in his eyes that he didn’t like. That faraway look he often had during drunken hazes, staring off into nothing like there was a storm brewing in his head with threats of nothing good.

The alien grabbed Dib’s face with both hands, turning him left and right to check for injuries, Dib scrunching his eyes as he did. Zim pursed his lips when he noticed the melting pack of ice in his human’s grip.

“Burned myself on the stove, no biggie.” Dib shrugged. Zim’s brow furrowed, giving Dib’s cheeks a squeeze before getting up to grab some first-aid things.

“So, were you going to tell me what happened here or do I have to check the cameras?” Zim plopped back down next to Dib, pulling the injured hand into his lap to treat it.

Dib snorted. “Ha, nice try, I already found ‘em all.”

“Mhm, yup, you certainly did. No use looking for more, they’re all gone.”

Zim couldn’t resist a grin at the glare and eyeroll he received. He didn’t know if Dib had actually found all his cameras yet, but no sense in letting the stinky know if there were actually more or not.

“Sorry about the mess,” Dib mumbled. “I was gonna clean it up before you got back. I got kinda...” A sigh. “Distracted.”

Zim finished wrapping up Dib’s injury with a band-aid and glanced around the kitchen once more. It seemed to have been some sort of… baking attempt, from what he could gather. But why wait until he was gone to do it?

“You are forgiven… only if you tell Zim was all this-” he gestured to the mess “-was about.”

Zim watched his human’s expression as he started back at him, seeming to debate whether he wanted to elaborate or not. Finally, he looked away with a sigh and Zim thought he saw the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“I was uh, trying to bake.” Zim could only just barely understand Dib through his purposeful mumbling. “A cake. For, uh, for you. To say thanks, you know. For all the food you’re always making me.” As he spoke his cheeks got redder and he started scratching at the back of his neck, a habit Zim noticed he usually did when he was nervous. “As you can see it didn’t really work out that well.” Dib gave a laugh but it felt so hollow to Zim’s antenna. The kind of laugh you did when you were trying to assure others you were fine but couldn’t really put any effort in it.

As the Irken glanced around he could spot all the different bowls, measuring spoons, and other utensils his Dib used. He… tried really hard, didn’t he? And now he was on the floor, looking like the entire world was crashing down and it was his own fault. Sad and warm feelings both swirled around Zim’s gut, a confusing swirl of emotion he wasn’t sure how to process.

Zim placed his hand on Dib’s leg and leaned up to press his lips to Dib’s, much to the human’s surprise. Zim felt Dib stiffen only slightly before relaxing in his hold, reciprocating the kiss. Zim’s antenna instinctively wrapped themselves around the untied scythe of hair atop Dib’s head. Hmm, it was getting long. They’d need to cut it again soon.

Zim pulled back from the kiss only slightly, resting his forehead against Dib’s as he brought up a hand to stroke Dib’s cheek. “Thank you, Dib-beast.”

Despite the slightly flustered look Dib managed to pull himself together enough to furrow his brows. “For what? The cake’s not even good. Trust me, I tried it. All I managed to make is a huge mess.”

One of Zim’s antenna bent down to lightly bop Dib’s cheek. “For trying so hard to make something special for me. For going out of your way to make it a surprise. For telling me you appreciated the things I did.” Zim leaned forward to nuzzle against Dib. “Thank you for all of that.”

Dib let out a sigh and Zim felt arms wrap around his waist and hoist him into Dib’s lap. His human easily nuzzled into his shoulder and Zim did the same, feeling long legs bending up and resting against his PAK. They fell into their embrace so easily, like they were supposed to fit together. Zim was sure he’d be perfectly happy just sitting like this with Dib for the rest of time.

The two stayed like that for a long while, Dib’s lanky arms wrapped around Zim in a tight vice, Zim content to breathe in Dib’s presence. Eventually they were interrupted by a low grumbling centered at Dib’s stomach. Zim let out a snicker at the very graceful noise, earning him a slightly embarrassed “shut up” from Dib. Zim gave a smell peck on the lips to placate his human and rose to his feet, offering Dib a hand to help hoist him up.

“What do you say we try and make a cake some other time?” Zim offered. “Now that I know I’m owed a gift, of course.”

Dib looked down with a rueful smile. “Not worried I’ll mess it up?” He said with a slight scoff.

Zim’s brows furrowed as he rose up on his PAK legs to be at eye-level with his human. “Not at all because I know how smart you are. Besides,” Zim said, running a finger along a glob of wet goop and popping it in his mouth. Hm, slightly sweet. “You know baking is like, level 20 cooking, right?”

“Hah?”

“Yeah.” Zim reached into the fridge, looking for some leftovers for Dib, his eye spotting the tub of strawberries soaking in sugar. Oh, those looked good, they could probably use those tomorrow. “If you’re going to try something new you’re supposed to start at level 1, stinky. Most cooking you can just kind of eyeball how much seasoning you want for things. But baking is very exact a lot of the time. You humans took cooking and decided to make it as finicky as chemistry for no good reason.” He pulled a tub of spaghetti from the fridge and popped it in the microwave.

“With both of us tackling it we’ll make a cake that rivals anything some dookie-brained ‘top chef’ could make.” Zim plopped himself on a clean section of counter, antenna sticking up as he boasted for the both of them.

Dib scoffed with a laugh and pulled the spaghetti out of the microwave once it was done. He pulled a fork from the sink of yet-to-be-put-away dishes and leaned against the counter next to Zim. “If you say so, space boy.”

Zim’s antenna quickly accosted Dib’s hair as he neared, tangling and wrapping themselves into place, vibrating with a happiness that said they were exactly where they belonged. “I know so,” he replied matter-of-factly.

=

The two made the shortcake later that week, despite Dib’s quiet protests. Zim even stole obtained an electric mixer just for the whipped cream. Dib complained that Zim was making him do all the work (Zim’s repeated answer to that was “it’s a present for me, why should I have to do the work?”) Once it was all done though Dib had to admit, it didn’t look bad. Granted, it didn’t exactly look magazine-worthy, but it was presentable. Better yet, it actually tasted pretty damn good. Good enough that he had to fight Zim over the last piece.

For once, that voice inside his mental lockbox had nothing to say.

=

How in-character is this oneshot actually? It’s a mystery, who knows, certainly not me. It’s been sent out into the world how in character they are is no longer my problem that’s a y’all kinda issue now 💅🏽

Go! Take! A gander! At! @reynaruina ‘s Ponytail Dib! AU! If! You Like! To Cry! (Though things have been looking up in those little blurbs and comics reyna’s making so hopefully there will be less crying soon 🎉)

Fun fact: a huge chunk of Dib’s failure to make a strawberry shortcake from scratch was based on my own failed attempt. I still don’t know if there’s a difference between heavy cream and heavy whipping cream or if an electric mixer mattered. No, stuffing the whipped cream into the freezer didn’t help make it fluffy either. RIP my shortcake 2019-2019 🤘🏽😔

Double fun fact: Did you know apparently classic strawberry shortcakes are actually gross disgusting lumpy buscuit-ass lookin’ mutherfuckers and not fluffy sweet cake things? Whoever the hell thought purposefully bland cake was what strawberry shortcakes needed to be should be forced to step on legos forever. They also owe me 20 bucks cuz I thought I was making the sweet fluffy kind of cake and instead of forced to eat a flavorless biscuit with strawberries on it. EVIL.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive (intro)

A/N: Once upon a time, @malionnes​ asked me what I would write if I could write any story for one of my characters. And this AU is the result. Logan Delos is much more than the sum of his flaws, and he is determined to prove that. 

Warning: this series will deal with drug use, depression, addiction, violence and other such topics. 

Word Count: 3,113

“Will it help?” You shocked yourself by asking the question in an even tone despite the way your chest was clenching and your throat tightening. Watching him struggle to remove the plastic band from around his wrist - thin...he’s so thin now…- you felt your bottom lip tremble and you pressed them together to stop it. Reaching out, you placed a hand on his arm and he froze, looking up at you. Oh... His eyes, always so bright and full of life now looked lost, the light in them dull, barely a flicker, and the darkness hit you like a sucker punch to the heart. You sucked in an involuntary breath, but swallowed it down, slipping your fingers beneath the band he wore. Giving a quick yank, you easily snapped it, letting it fall to the floor. He muttered a thank you under his breath, pulling his wrist away slowly, encircling it with the fingers of his other hand. Yours dropped to your lap and the second that it did you felt a distance start to form; a slow but strong undercurrent pulling you away from him. He hadn’t answered you, so as one last attempt to throw out a life vest- for him or for me?- you asked again. “Logan? Is that…” Don’t ask if it’s what he wants. Ask the question that matters. “Will it help?” 

It was all you’d been trying to do since he’d been released from the hospital after his last trip to Westworld; help him find a way through it. You’d thought he was joking the night before he left for his trip, when he told you that he’d updated his park profile to make you his emergency contact. He’d said it through a smirk, lips crawling up your neck, tongue sweeping across your sweat slicked skin as his hands roamed your body and his hips rolled against yours. You’d smacked his arm playfully, drawing a chuckle from him that tickled behind your ear. “No you didn’t, Delos,” you challenged. There was no reason for him to list you as any kind of contact, emergency or otherwise. You and Logan had been enjoying several months of unlabeled fun, and you knew that he’d been seeing other people during that time. You had, too, though it had been a few weeks since you’d seen anyone but him. And he’s the only one I’m sleeping with. “Besides, I thought Juliet was your emergency contact.” You twisted beneath him, turning your head to look in his eyes, your fingers going up to brush a few strands of his long chocolate brown hair away from them. 

“She was,” he answered, tilting his head to lean into your palm. “But William needed to list someone and park rules state that two guests can’t have the same emergency contact.” He rolled his eyes and sat up, moving so that he was next to you. Reaching over, he pulled you by the hips into his lap, the feel of his skin on yours better than any high thread count cotton you’d ever experienced. 

You hummed as he returned his lips to your neck, his touch trailing down between your breasts and over your abdomen. Fuck that feels amazing. Letting your head fall back onto his shoulder, you reached one hand up behind him to tangle your fingers in his hair where it curled near the base of his skull. “You excited to get back to the desert, cowboy?” You’d heard about Logan’s escapades in the wild west, knew that he enjoyed blowing off steam by channeling his inner outlaw. It’s a nice visual, too. You scratched your nails down over his scalp, smiling as he let out a groan, just like you knew he would. 

“Fuck, that feels…” Amazing? Yeah, Logan, I know. He released a throaty breath as his fingers flexed against your body to press you closer, your spine flush to his chest. “I always have fun when I go,” he said in answer to your question. “Know how to make my own fun no matter who I’m stuck with.” He’d been expressing his distaste for William since the man had proposed to Juliet and Logan realized that he could be stuck with him for a lot longer than a week’s vacation to a prairie full of robots. “But I wish I was gonna be stuck with you instead.” You sucked in a breath as he took your earlobe between his teeth. 

Your heart had been racing since before the two of you had fallen onto the mattress, shedding clothing and claiming each new inch of skin with lips and hands as though it were the first and not the fiftieth time you’d done so. But the way he’d said that he’d rather be stuck with you, the way he was clutching you close, the way you could feel the rise of his breathing against the blade of your shoulder brought you to another level. Too much, it’s not… this isn’t… You took a steadying breath and leaned forward, separating yourself from him and turning to face him. “Oh, come on, Logan, you don’t want me around ruining your chances with…” you tapped your chin in mock thought. “What’s her name? The one you told me about at the Mariposa? Peach?” He cocked his head to the side and gave you an exasperated glare, his hands falling to the tops of your thighs. “No, wait, Clementine, that’s it,” you winked and his glare melted into a grin. “Knew it was a fruit.” You scrunched your nose and laughed as he surged forward and caught you in his arms again, lips covering yours as he tackled you back onto the bed, his heart racing just as hard as yours was as it knocked against your chest. You kissed him back, arms winding around his shoulders and one leg thrown around his waist. 

You’d kissed Logan countless times in the past few months, but this one had been different. You felt him slow it down, pressing his body down on top of yours with intention as one hand cupped the side of your face and the other threaded through your hair, loose and spread out over the well-worked sheets. His tongue entered your mouth, yours blindly following his lead as you breathed together, your thoughts completely unraveling. When he finally broke apart he pulled away just enough so that you could see his eyes, a bright gleam in their nearly onyx depths. He shook his head and spoke your name, his voice taking on a low gravelly tone that set your blood on fire. “You really think I’d rather have one’a those dolls when I can have you?” 

Your breathing was heavy and uneven from his kiss, small puffs of air leaving your lips to meet his. Have me? Does he… He doesn’t mean… You closed your eyes and willed your heart to stop hammering at your ribs. He just means like this, not...nothing more. Swallowing hard, you opened your eyes to see that he hadn’t taken his off of you, still looking at you with that disarming clarity. “You have me right now, Logan,” you barely got the words out, your voice dissolving as you spoke. You can always have me. 

His eyes narrowed as he took a breath through his nose, his chest pressed to yours as his lungs expanded. “Yeah, I do.” He nodded, leaning in until his lips found yours again, this time leaving a quick kiss before trailing up your jaw to your ear. “And I’m gonna want you as soon as I get back, too.” You felt his biceps tightening as his arms wound around you.  

That makes two of us. You let him crush your body beneath his own, your palms pressing into the warm skin of his back. “I’ll be right here,” you told him, lips close to his ear. 

And you were. 

The call woke you up at 2:28 am, jarring you from your dreams as you bolted upright and grabbed for your phone. What’s… oh… Your confusion turned to worry as you read the caller ID. The number was restricted, but the entry came up as Delos Destinations INC. Your hands shook as you fumbled to answer. The voice on the other end greeted you with your name in the form of a question. 

“Yes,” you spoke the word into your phone, a slow sensation of dread spreading through your veins. 

“We’re calling on behalf of Logan Delos.” You held your breath in the dark, head spinning. Why can’t he call on his own behalf? “There’s been an incident in the park and Mr. Delos required… medical extraction. He’s being closely monitored and I’m told his condition has been downgraded from critical to stable.” You gasped his name, a fear you’d never felt before filling your heart. “At this time ma’am we are only required to inform you of Mr. Delos’ status, you are not obligated to come out to the facility or-” 

“I’m coming.” You tore the blankets from your legs and stood, cutting off the too-calm employee on the phone. Your entire being was vibrating with nerves and you could feel your pulse behind your eyes. There’s no way I’m leaving him alone. He’d made you his contact because he trusted you. He’d asked you to stay with him that last night before his trip, asked you to stay with him, in his bed, in his place, because he wanted you. “I’m coming, I’ll be there.” You got dressed as you listened for flight information, hands still shaking uncontrollably as you ended the call and headed for the door.

They continued to shake as you drove to the airport, dizzy from the rapid, shallow breaths you’d been taking between sobs. You’d been given a little more information on Logan’s condition, and while again you were told that he was stable, you felt no better. You stared at your fingers, laced together in your lap. They didn’t stop shaking at any point during the flight. 

Your hands didn’t stop shaking until they clutched the railing at his bedside, knuckles white and threatening to poke through your skin from how tight your grip was. Oh my god. “Logan…” Tears ran silently down your cheeks as you lowered yourself into the chair that had been provided for you. Bandages covered various portions of his body, where the burn was most severe; his wrists and palms- according to the medical team, these areas were worsened by adding the chafing of thick, coarse rope- the tops of his shoulders, where the sun was the most unrelenting, even on his cheek, where you were told he’d been given a shallow slash wound. Any exposed skin on his arms, neck or face was a deep purplish red color, peeling in patches on his nose and lips, and even while he slept he looked like he was in agony. His legs and torso were covered by the thin sheet, but you could only imagine that it was more of the same. Jesus, Logan, how did this… you felt a hollow ache as he flinched and mumbled in his sleep. Without realizing that you’d moved, you looked down to see that you’d placed your hand on his chest, desperate to give him any amount of comfort that you could. “I’m here, Logan, it’s okay, it's…” 

His eyes flew open, and for a few seconds he didn’t seem to see or hear you, his chest heaving as he gulped at the air, and you didn’t have to guess to know where he’d been in his dreams. Three days, they’d told you. He’d been out there for three days, naked, alone, dehydrated and without food, hands bound and left for dead. Three days of cooking in the scorching sun, two nights of frigid, silver moonlight. Host Malfunction, they’d said, telling you that Logan had joined some war narrative near the edges of the park, and one of the blood thirsty robots had taken things off script. It matched the story that William had told when he alerted park officials that Logan had gone missing. He’d turned up looking fairly rough himself, you were told, slightly dehydrated and sunburned. Your eyes roved over Logan’s weakened frame as he blinked and finally registered your presence. But not like this. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Logan, it’s okay,” You kept your hand on his chest as you spoke softly to him, fighting to keep from sobbing at the hurt in his eyes. He looked down to where you were touching him, tears gathering in his own eyes as he brought one bandaged hand up to cover yours. 

“You’re here.” The tips of his fingers were free over the top of the gauze wrapped around his palms, and they found their way between yours. 

You nodded, leaning in to get closer to him without hurting him. “Of course I am, I…” I think I’m falling in love with you. “I care about you Logan…” 

He’d broken down into tears then, both of his hands holding yours in place above his terrified heart. 

The weeks and months that followed were dark ones, the torture that he’d endured replaying on a relentless loop in his mind day and night. He hadn’t wanted to talk much, and you didn’t press him on it, trying only to be there for him in whatever way he wanted or needed you to be. I’m gonna want you when I get back, he’d said, and it was true- he wanted you to distract him from his waking nightmares, wanted to bury himself in you so he could bury the memories. You have me, Logan, however you want me. 

But it wasn’t enough of a distraction, and he soon found a much stronger way to dull the pain, which is how you ended up where you were now, sitting across from him in his apartment after he’d been released from the emergency room, still too weak to even snap the plastic band around his wrist. It was the second time you’d found him passed out with a needle in his hand and a strangled moan rattling in his throat, and the third time that you feared that you might lose him. You ached for him in ways you never thought possible when you first met, in ways that wouldn’t have made sense for the carefree fling you’d started. But there was one thing that was certain, and that was that you loved Logan Delos. You were even fairly certain that he loved you, too. You just couldn’t have had worse timing in realizing that. 

After the second overdose he made the decision that he needed to check into a rehab program. Your heart flipped and your eyes welled with tears, ecstatic that he’d come to that conclusion on his own, that he valued his own life enough to try to save it. You told him that you’d be there for him however you could, no matter what he needed. He hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating, and knowing that he wanted to do something about it was enough to give you the hope that he could be happy again, whole again, even if it wasn’t with you. “I’ll be here for you, Logan, when you get back.”   

He looked down then and shook his head. “I can’t…can’t ask you to do that” He didn’t try to hide the pained wince that creased his forehead, or the way his voice had snapped, becoming brittle and dry. You felt the bottom drop out of your chest as he turned his face back towards yours, his cheeks gone hollow and his eyes brimming with unshed tears. Oh, Logan… He shook his head again, unruly strands of hair falling over his eyes. It was longer than it had ever been, his beard, too, looked scruffy and unkempt. He looks like he did after the desert. All that was missing was the burn. Your breath caught in your throat as he continued. “What I’m doin’ isn’t… working. I can’t,” He tilted his head to the side, swallowing as a salty droplet fell from his eye. “Can’t do this to you again, and I…” He swore, the word wavering as it left his lips. Another few tears fell free as he blinked, his long lashes wet as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. The skin beneath them was sunken and dark, highlighting how pale he was, how fragile. That’s not you, Logan. “I won’t let you sit there, watching, waitin’ for me to…” His eyes opened again and they were as clear as they’d been in weeks, catching you off guard. “I don’t want you here just so I can lash out at you when things get hard and…” 

That’s when you’d asked him if it would help, taking time apart. His answer was a strained yes, and you could tell how badly he wanted it to be anything but yes. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you nodded. “Whatever you need…if it will help.” Even if that isn’t me. Though it hurt like a dagger to the heart to hear him tell you that he needed you to leave, there was nothing you wouldn’t do to help him heal, and seeing him like this was a pain that you both knew you couldn’t endure much more of. You wrapped your arms around him one last time, holding him close as he kissed you, slow and meaningful like the night before his trip, full of all the things neither of you had ever said. I love you, too. “Take care of yourself, Logan, you deserve to be happy.” You left him with those words, whispered against his cheek. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 

You deserve to be happy. 

That’s what you’d told him, and he was determined to prove you right. 

It’s like you’re programmed for fucking failure, Logan. 

How many times had he heard that from his father? Enough that I started to believe it. But of the two lines that stuck with him, yours was stronger. His father believed that everything in life could be broken down to codes and algorithms, simulations and predetermined pathways. I’m writing my own code, Dad, fuck yours. 

He read over the form one final time before clicking submit, the screen redirecting him to a new page thanking him for his application to Stanford School of Law. Like he’d tried to show William, there was a fundamental difference between the hyper realistic robots that populated the parks and a flesh and blood human. Choices, not codes, were what made a man, and Logan was making the choice to fight for himself.

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @gollyderek​ @thesumofmychoices​ @lexxierave​ @belladonnarey​ @ymariejp​ @obscurilicious​ @songtoyou​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @breanime​ @drinix​ @jigsawlover10​ @getlostinyourparadise​ @nananananananananananabatman​ @malionnes​

(i just used the same tag list from my other Logan series, so if you would like to be added or removed please let me know!)

[mrs-hatake]

Seven First Kisses (intro)

Summary: You were a Lotte Duty Free store employee who has never been in a relationship before. One day, you meet with a genie who grants you wishes to pick the perfect partner for your first kiss among seven different men.

Celebrities (not in order): Sanji, Dabi, Kakashi, Aizawa, Ace, Zoro and Levi.

Word count: 2185

Face Claim: Gin Akutagawa

A/N: as you’ve guessed, this is based on the popular web drama, Seven first kisses. I only have the first chapter written as it was posted on my aff years ago but I will try to update as often as possible!

a kpop version of this is also posted on @ikonct95​

p.s, ignore any errors. I will proof read later.

B/D = Birth Date

On (B/D)  2020, You were busy working at the Duty Free of Japan’s largest international airport. The sound of people muttering which items they should buy and the sound of cash registers dinging were like music to your ears.

You moved to Japan three years ago as an English teacher. Being a teacher was a wonderful and rewarding job. The fact that you helped shape the kids of the future sent an exciting shiver down your neck. It was fun for a while but You soon grew bored of it; the never ending routine, having to use your own pocket money for class supplies and living in a tiny apartment, you’ve had enough. Luckily, one of your friends’ brother works at the airport and she threw in a word for You. After two years of being a teacher, You signed up with the airport and never looked back.

You usually enjoy your job because You love meeting new people. But today, You were totally not feeling it.

“Thank you.” You said with a bow and a smile as you gave a customer their bag. You sighed once You were sure the customer is long gone.

Today is my (Age) birthday, but I don’t have a boyfriend to celebrate with this year. I didn’t have one last year. Or the year before. I have never dated a man before in my life. Single since birth.

You shook your head to get free of those negative thoughts that only seem to invade your mind when You had nothing to do.

Need to focus!

You reprimanded yourself.

You straightened yourself once you saw a man from a distance walking towards You. Your mouth slowly dropped open as the man grew closer.

He’s so handsome!

You could feel your heart picking up its pace at the mere sight of him; tall, handsome and charismatic. A tiny spark of hope of him asking you out on a date on your birthday ignited within You.

“Excuse me?” His voice was light.

“Yes.” You answered dreamily.

“Trash…?”

“…What?”

Well, that woke You up from your daydream.

“The trashcan…?”

Your smile faltered as You watched the man raise his empty plastic cup of coffee, “I want to throw this away.” He explained.

“Oh…”

You quickly plastered on a smile, “I’ll throw it away for you.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” The man returned the smile.

“Honey!” A woman’s voice is heard from behind the man.

“Did you finish shopping?” The man asked the woman who now stood next to him.

“Yeah.” She replied as she wrapped her arm around his and walked away.

You looked down in slight disappointment, ignoring the way the couple laughed away at whatever one of them had said.

My (Age) birthday present is an empty cup?

“L/N F/N!”

“Yes?”

Your head turned sharply to the side in surprise at the sound of your manager’s voice. He beckoned Your towards him with a wave of his hand. Quickly, you walked over to him.

–

“Hurry, hurry!”

You struggled to carry the two heavy duty free boxes while trying to catch up to your boss who seemed like he was just carrying a stack of paper as you both walked along the hallway that had pictures of very famous Japanese celebrities hung on the wall.

The sound of a man calling his girlfriend and pecking her lips lovingly and talking to her in a baby manner caught your attention. Your lips formed into a pout at the two of them.

You tore your eyes away from them and looked at the pictures of the celebrities on the wall and sighed sadly.

“Single since birth, (Age) years old and never been kissed. I wish I could have a great boyfriend before I die. Like, right now..” In your haziness, You didn’t realize that You had said that out loud.

You jumped as your boss called your name, telling you to hurry up.

You returned to the front desk with slumped shoulders and a loud exhale. You ignored your two coworkers who were obviously talking about You even though You were standing just five feet away from them.

You were looking down at your phone when a loud clunk made You look up.

In front of You stood a tall and very beautiful woman who had a lovely olive complexion and lusciously long black hair. The woman in front of You seemed disinterested at everything around her at first but when she made eye contact with You, she gave You a small but kind smile.

You couldn’t help but stare at her, dumbfounded.

“Ah…the trashcan is…” You regained composure instantly and tried to take the coffee cup from the woman’s hand.

“Where is the jewelry store?” Was the woman’s question.

You smiled as You replied, “If you go down one floor, the jewelry store is located behind the escalator. Is there a specific brand you’re looking for?”

The woman pretended to be thinking before she answered, “No, I’ll just find it. Thank you.”

“Have a great day.”

“Wow…” You breathed out once the woman was out of earshot.

Working in an airport, You were exposed to all sorts of people. The kind, the rude, the impatient and the chilled ones. You always had to see well-dressed customers who looked charming as well but that woman was simply dazzling. Her entire aura screamed elegance and her beauty was radiant that it left You speechless.

Tearing your eyes away from where the woman had disappeared to, You noticed that the she had left her coffee cup behind on the counter.

Of course…

You lifted the cup and was surprised to find a dark green passport beneath the cup. You snatched the passport as worry washed over your face.

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Shit!

You ran from the front desk as You realized that the beautiful woman had left the passport behind. You rushed down the escalators as the voice of your two coworkers followed You. You looked around for the woman on the lower level but couldn’t find her. Your eyes scanned the hundreds of faces in hopes to catch a glimpse of her but couldn’t spot her. You then walked into a random jewel store and asked the saleswoman, “Hello! Did a really tall beautiful woman with long hair come through here?” You knew that your description was vague but You had hoped that the saleswoman was just as awestruck as You were when You had seen the beautiful woman that she would know who You were talking about.

“No.” The woman replied apologetically.

“Thank you.”

You stood by the escalators and scanned your surroundings once more while repeatedly slapping the passport on your left hand. You rushed back upstairs and to the front desk where You asked your two coworkers “Did anyone come here searching for something?”

“No, no one.” One of them replied in annoyance while waving her hand in front of your face. “I couldn’t even go to the bathroom because of you! Why did you leave?”

You looked at her in surprise as she dragged the other coworker to the bathroom.

“Why do they always go to the bathroom together?” You exhaled loudly, “Seriously…”

You looked down at the green passport but your eyes widened at the sight of the sparkling engravings.

“Huh? This isn’t a passport!” You exclaimed while flipping the green booklet, “What is this?” You asked yourself as you opened it.

Inside the booklet was a picture of the beautiful woman from earlier with a brief description in a foreign language that You did not recognize.

“Excuse me. Did I…” A woman who sounded distressed interrupted your train of thought.

“Ah! This!” It was the beautiful woman from earlier, “I was running after you to return it…”

“Thank you so much!” The beautiful woman thanked You,  a grateful smile on her pillowy lips, “I thought I lost it. Thank you so much! How can I repay you?”

You smiled kindly, “It’s okay. I’m just doing my job.” You lowered your head humbly.

“Please, I insist” The beautiful woman proclaimed. “Thank you. If I didn’t have this… I wouldn’t be able to go back.”

“Ah…where are you going?” You asked curiously, “It doesn’t seem like a passport…” You trailed off.

The beautiful woman chuckled.

Instead, she said, “I want to repay you. Please tell me one wish.” And then proceeded to hold onto your hands.

You made a funny face at her, “A wish?”

The woman nodded her head.

“No, it’s really fine, ma’am.” You insisted. Unsure of what the woman meant by ‘wish’ and You weren’t sure if You wanted to find out.

“I really want to repay you. Just tell me anything! Hurry!”

You were taken aback at the woman’s impatience. You played along, not wanting to offend the woman, and thought of that one wish that You had been wishing for since you were 15 years old.

The beautiful woman looked at You with intensity, still holding your hand.

“You just made a wish saying you’ve been single since birth and never been kissed?” The woman stated.

“What?”

You blinked in confusion.

The woman smiled knowingly. “I know what your wish is.”

The woman pointed at the desk behind You and six cards appeared out of thin air.

“What the fuck?” You gasped at the sudden appearance of the cards.

In each card, there were black silhouettes in the shape of a man with a large, white question mark in the middle.

You turned to face the woman in slight fear and confusion.

“You’re going to meet a great man in 10 seconds.” The woman said with a calm smile.

“What?” You stuttered, heart racing in fear and body shaking in nervousness at the sheer madness of it all. You must be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation.

“Oh! My balloon!”

You got distracted by the sound of a child’s cry. You looked at the child whose balloon was drifting away when suddenly, everything around You started moving in slow motion. The handles on the wall clock moved agonizingly slow, the woman throwing popcorn into her mouth, standing next to the restrooms, was doing it at such a slow speed that You had to blink your eyes a couple of time to make sure You weren’t hallucinating. Everything that surrounded You moved in a very slow pace and made You slightly panic.

“It’s already 10 minutes before work is over.”

“Awesome!”

Your coworkers’ voices faded into the background noise and things no longer moved in slow motion.

You shook your head and turned to face the beautiful woman from earlier but was surprised to find her gone. You looked around but the woman was nowhere in sight. As You looked around, You did not notice the figure walking towards the front desk until he was a couple of feet in front of You. You squinted your eyes trying to see who the figure was and when he stood directly in front of You, your eyes widened and you let out a quiet ‘Oh my God!’

The man was dressed in a velvet maroon suit with his hair styled upwards into spikes. His thick lips were formed into a lazy smirk and his eyes were filled with mischief. He laid his hand on the counter top as he leaned his body forward.

“I heard you’re getting off work soon.” His voice was teasing.

Your two coworkers looked at You in amazement and jealousy, a fact You were unsure of.

“I’ll wait up by the front.” The man instructed.

“What? Me? You’re going to wait for me?” Your voice raised its pitch with every syllable.

The man nodded his head and smiled at your amusing confusion.

You looked at your coworkers who were just as surprised as You were.

The man smiled one last time before walking away.

One of the coworkers stood beside You and asked, “Do you know him?”

“Wasn’t that Levi Ackerman, the famous actor? Did he just come and speak to me?” You were in a state of shock but your voice was filled with glee.

“What do you mean, actor? He’s the newly-rising IT tycoon, the number one most charming single man in Japan, Levi Ackerman!” the second coworker frowned at You.

You stared at the retreating figure before throwing a shocked look at your coworker.

“Come on, stop teasing me!” You playfully slapped her arm, “He’s the actor, Levi Ackerman!”

The two coworkers continued to frown at you.

“Why do you keep insisting on him being an actor? We just told you he’s a tycoon.”

You ignored at their bickering and searched up the man on google. And true to their words, he was indeed not an actor.

“He’s not an actor? What in the world is going on?” You muttered to yourself quietly as You skimmed through several articles until the end of your shift.

Well, one thing for sure is that You needed to find that beautiful woman and ask her what’s going on because You had a strong hunch that that woman has something to do with this.

[youwouldneverbreakthechain]

Fic: Terra Incognita

Title: Terra Incognita Author: Kairos Summary: Rocket had a very limited number of people he loved, or even tolerated, and most of those are dead. What now? Why bother? And what happens when they come back? Wordcount: 4345 Warnings: Some violence, some language. No sex and no spoilers for anything post-Endgame.

Read it on Ao3 here.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

In the moments after Groot slipped through his fingers, the battleground became a graveyard. That wasn’t so bad; what was a graveyard but a place of remembrance? Rocket would have stayed there, just remembering, but it changed again. Time kept moving, people kept reacting, and the battleground turned into what it had been before Rocket had ever seen it -- a stretch of savannah that belonged to the nation of Wakanda, a nation of Earth.

The people changed too. They had been brothers in arms, and now they were Terrans. It shouldn’t have mattered; Rocket had never had his own kind anyway, but there was something unsettling about an entire world that was populated by just one sentient race. They all had the same biology, the same history, the same prejudices in spite of it. They all called him a raccoon. He never bothered to make one of them show him some justification for it.

Thor was the only exception, and Thor was broken. It took only a few days of sheltering with the so-called Avengers for Rocket to realize that he would never have a real friend among them. His only hope was for the survival of some part of his family, and that was no hope at all.

He held on anyway, long enough for Nebula to win her throw of the dice and make it down to Earth to confirm everyone else’s loss. It was as hard for her as it was for Rocket, he realized. There had been a time that understanding another’s pain would have been beyond him, but that was from before he had met Quill and the others. Losing them didn’t erase the way they had changed him. Nebula needed him now. He needed her.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

In the early days, once Thanos had been executed, all of Rocket’s work was done alongside the Avengers. They explained as much about their world as was needed for him to help reconstruct it, and they asked him whatever they thought they needed to know. The same went for Nebula, but since she and Rocket were usually together and she looked more like them than he did, they asked her first. 

There was plenty of living space for everyone at the Avengers headquarters, but Rocket didn’t officially claim a room. He strung up hammocks near his current projects, or found beds that nobody was using. Sometimes he fell asleep in Nebula’s room, which contained a few achingly familiar weapons that she had salvaged. She never remarked on it, though she tossed him a blanket if he needed one.

One day, Rocket finished updating all of the power sources in the building, and for the first time, was left with nothing to do. Instead of lowering himself to asking someone to help keep him busy, he took a walk outside and began to cross the expansive lawn. Footsteps soon took up behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know that it was Nebula.

At the edge of the property he stopped, sniffed the air, and said, “So Quill grew up here.”

“No wonder he never chose to return,” Nebula rasped.

Rocket’s impulse was to agree, but he knew that looking out to a distant city from a secluded compound wasn’t seeing a world. He hesitated, then ventured, “I might go check it out.”

She betrayed no emotion. “We could take a vehicle.”

Nebula drove. The transport units that Terrans used were mostly earthbound, difficult to maneuver and impossible to adjust for greater comfort. As soon as they had reached a living town, Nebula parked, and they left the car to explore on their feet.

Of course there was nobody but more Terrans, and few enough of those. They gawked, some shouted, but none approached, apparently too full of fear or apathy to investigate the foreign species in their midst. A Flerken strolled by, which raised Rocket’s hackles, but Nebula explained that they were called cats here and that none had ever been known to use its deadly power.

Quill’s frequent boasts about his home planet seemed to have no basis in reality. Rocket hadn’t expected much anyway, but he had been harboring a small secret hope that something would remind him of his late human friend. All of that, apparently, was back at the base. Even the music that the Avengers played was more like Quill’s than whatever was now drifting out of someone’s apartment window overhead.

That made sense, he had to admit. The Avengers were more like Quill than the other Terrans in almost every way.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

Rocket knew the real reason that Quill had never returned to his home, although he suspected that Nebula didn’t: like everything about Quill, it had to do with his mother. He had said more than once that he would never be able to set a foot on the planet without grieving for her all over again. 

When the team was still together, Rocket had quietly wondered how true that really was. Maybe it was an excuse for something else, or maybe Quill thought he meant it but would have changed his mind if he ever found himself on Earth again. 

What would Quill have thought about this version of Earth? About the Avengers? 

Rocket still didn’t particularly like them, but he tolerated some better than others. Rhodey had a kind of pragmatism to his despair; his grief was shared and not personal. When Rocket gave him engineering tips, he listened. Banner was intelligent, for a human. His goal of fusing his two personae into a single mind and body was one of the only ideas on Earth that had interested Rocket for its own sake, and Banner didn’t mind him coming into the lab to observe. 

Tony Stark had earned Nebula’s respect, which was enough to get Rocket’s too, but he was never around and the Avengers said he wouldn’t be back. Something about having a baby. That made Rocket think about Groot, so he tuned out every time it was mentioned.

The Terran that Rocket saw most often was Natasha Romanov, which he found unfortunate. She was as subdued and miserable as any of them, but she retained a detached amusement over anything she found incredible, and that included Rocket. When she spoke to him, it was after a brief pause, as if each time she had to convince herself all over again that he was real. He overheard her referring to him as “the raccoon”, long after she had learned his name. She turned all her attention to Nebula when he was standing right next to her.

All of that was typical enough to be barely worth the notice, though, and he found he didn’t want to get back at Romanov even if she were openly laughing at him. Everyone had to find something to not be subdued and miserable about.

For him it was Terran food. They had a knack for combining their meat and produce and grain and artificial flavors into unexpected and delicious snacks, and Rocket tried whatever was available and liked most of it. He seemed to like it more than the Terrans did, actually. They were all so goddamned picky.

One of the first times that he heard any of the Avengers laugh was when Rhodey gave Rogers some kind of candy that made him crease his brow and turn it over in his hands. “Marshmallow...Peeps?”

Rocket pricked his ears. He loved marshmallows.

Rhodey shrugged and ambled over to the monitor where he always checked the daily statistics. “It’s the week after Easter, they’re practically free. What, you didn’t have Peeps in your basket back in the old days?”

Rogers shook his head, smiling. “I think I’ll pass. Nat, you want these?” He tossed them over to her without waiting for an answer.

“Not even if you paid me,” she retorted even as she caught the cellophane-wrapped packet out of the air. She barely spared it a glance as it travelled in a smooth arc from her hand to the nearest wastebasket. 

The humans began reminiscing about the holidays of their youths, so Rocket took it upon himself to liberate the Peeps from the pile of crumpled paper they were sitting on in the basket. The packet hadn’t been opened, but it still smelled strongly of sugar. He tore off the plastic and pulled out one of the soft pink shapes inside, inspecting it with his hands and nose.

“Rocket, man,” said Rhodey suddenly, just as Rocket was stuffing the sweet blob into his mouth. “That is nasty.”

Rocket swallowed and glared. “Wastin’ good food, that’s nasty.”

“Yeah, but from the garbage?”

“I wouldn’a had to get it outta there if one of you dweebs offered me some before you trashed it.”

Rogers sat up straighter, his mirth fading. “I’m sorry, Rocket. Should have thought of that.”

Rocket shrugged. “Don’ matter.” He bit into a second Peep, glad that he wouldn’t have to share them, but the atmosphere in the room had changed. His ears flicked back and forth, sensing that the humans outside of his line of vision were trying to have a silent argument with gestures and facial expressions.

Not Rhodey, though. “I can get you more of those things,” he offered. Rocket nodded emphatically, unconcerned about whether this was going to become a running joke for them.

As he was leaving, absently licking sugar from his hands, he saw Romanov shoot him a quick but unmistakably disgusted look. It was a relief to find Nebula again, although there was no chance she would have understood why he liked the Terran candy. Nebula had never enjoyed any kind of food, as far as he could remember.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, after they had both been silently engaged in their own engineering tasks for a few hours. “Y’know they don’t need us here, right?”

She nodded. “Where should we go?”

“So what did you think of Earth?”

They went to Xandar. Rocket knew that it wouldn’t be easy to see it again, and it wasn’t, but there was work to be done there.

Rhomann Dey’s wife and daughter, he learned, had been taken by the Snap. Dey himself was among those slaughtered by Thanos’s army when it had come to retrieve the Power Stone. The wave of rage and hatred that swept over Rocket when he heard the news was stronger than anything he had felt in months, though still a dim reflection of what he had felt before this new reality had begun to sink in. 

It was energizing, in a way, and he channeled it into restoring the planet’s technology so that the remainder of its people could have some kind of comfort to rely on. They were grateful, in their deadened, glassy-eyed way, but Rocket wished that they blamed him and demanded satisfaction. He explained who he was to anyone who didn’t know, detailing the story of how the Guardians had defeated Ronan but left the Orb instead of keeping it safe from Thanos, and how he was the only Guardian left to atone for their mistakes.

They simply didn’t have the heart to care. Sometimes they interrupted him just to ask when he thought the television would be back on.

“I dunno what else to do,” he said quietly to Nebula, one day when they had retreated to the Benatar, which was the only place they could bear to live. She had been going through the same thing that he had, but moreso. When she told the Xandarians in no uncertain terms that she had last come here as an enemy and a killer, it barely raised eyebrows.

“Keep moving,” she answered promptly. 

They went to Contraxia, Tetra, A’askvaria. Everywhere it was the same. People accepted the help they gave, asked for nothing more, cooperated as needed, and showed no will to survive. Rocket and Nebula ended up spending much of their time chasing down opportunistic criminals, although their stated mission was still research and exchange of information with the team they had left on Terra.

One other, the woman they called Danvers, was moving freely around space. She was both powerful and knowledgeable about the universe outside of one little solar system, and that made Rocket curious about what she could accomplish. Before long, though, it became evident that damage control was all she had in her arsenal, just like him and Nebula and the Avengers and Stark with his baby and absolutely everyone else. Danvers was just one more Terran, and she didn’t even listen to good music.

By the time Rocket was summoned back to Earth, he didn’t have any expectations of hearing an idea with even the possibility of providing the slightest chance of a meager improvement on the current state of reality, but it didn’t matter. It turned out that Earth wasn’t any worse than anywhere else.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

The battle was raging all around him when he found them. Drax first, broadcasting his presence with mad laughter. Rocket dispatched the enemy between them to catch his eye, hailed him through the smoke, and moved on with a grin he couldn't have dropped if he tried. 

Mantis was nearby, as he had expected. She reached up with one bared hand, timing it just right for Rocket to reach down and touch her fingertips as he leaped overhead. She laughed in sheer delight, which he transmitted right back to her as it echoed through the empathic contact. 

He saw Quill and Groot at the same time, apparently right after they had found each other. They were hugging, and though it only lasted for a second, Rocket’s first impulse was to cuss them both out for dropping their guard in the middle of a battle. Quill should know better. Quill was a seasoned fighter. The only time he ever left himself so open was...was when he was overcome with emotion.

Rocket’s anger ebbed away, and he watched the two of them without letting himself be seen so he could cover them until they broke apart and went running back into the fray. It wasn’t hard to decide which one to follow; Groot needed him. He had been alone when he died and must have come back alone, scared and confused.

But when Rocket caught up to him, he only looked happy -- and determined. “I am Groot!” he insisted, extending a branch to point out the next enemy he wanted to slay. Rocket had never felt so proud in his life. 

He stayed by Groot’s side for as long as he could, though still keeping an eye out for Quill. The chance for a real reunion, even the split-second kind he had had with the others, seemed to keep slipping away. The first thing that Quill said to him, between heavy breaths, was, “Did you see Gamora?”

Rocket shook his head, dazed. Gamora was dead with no chance of resurrection; Nebula had told him about it. Had Quill gone mad?

“No. Listen, you gotta gimme a lift. I figured out this move with Rhodey, if you got the jets on your boots I can--”

Quill opened his mask, and Rocket saw his eyes for the first time, frustrated and wild. “Who’s Rhodey?” he demanded. “Forget it, there’s no time. Captain America’s in command, he’s the one with the shield--”

“I know who Captain America is!” Rocket snapped. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you!” 

The rest of the discussion was cut short; they both had to get into formation and there was no efficient way to make it work together. It didn’t bother Rocket that this had been their first conversation after so long, but it did bother him, even as he spotted Rhodey and jumped onto his back for the move they had invented, that it might be their last.

So what did you think of Earth?

Quill started packing up the Benatar as soon as Stark’s funeral was over. Rocket was sure he hadn’t even begun to process what happened, let alone taken a moment to explore his roots. 

“So you meant it, huh?” Rocket asked him after completing the final check on every gauge. “You really don’t wanna be on Terra.”

“Of course I meant it,” Quill muttered, tossing a sack into the hold. “Why, do you?”

Rocket knew better than to respond to what was obviously a sarcastic question, but he did have a silent, unexpected brush with doubt about his answer. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to leave Earth; on the other, there were a few goodbyes coming that would be harder than he had expected. 

Rhodey was standing solemnly outside the hatch, eye level with Rocket, halfway up the steps. “You ever need anything, you just ask,” he said.

Rocket laughed. “From Earth? Yeah right.”

Rhodey laughed along, but wouldn’t withdraw the offer. “You just ask,” he repeated. He handed Rocket a packet of Peeps, and then he was walking away, waving flippantly. “Catch you later, mister ringtail. Keep an eye on Thor.”

Rocket didn’t realize that Quill had been listening until after the Benatar had left the solar system. It was quiet, almost meditative, if you were into that kind of thing. Quill was in the frontmost seat on the right, Rocket on the left, and everything felt so right. 

“Was that guy an Avenger?” Quill asked in that too-casual tone he used when he was feeling pissy about something.

It was a tone that Rocket hadn’t heard in five years, and there was no way he could have reacted the way he used to, with rolled eyes and a barb. He wanted to cry for joy, just being here again, sitting next to this sulky idiot. Instead he grinned and replied, “Eh, they call all of ‘em Avengers now. Probably even us.”

“I’m not an Avenger!” Quill protested. 

As he was getting even more upset, Rocket was feeling even happier. “Who cares? The job got done. Nobody’s tryin’ to tell us we ain’t Guardians.”

Quill’s voice dropped under his breath. “Figures.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve got other friends now. It’s fine.”

It was stupid as hell but it was still funny, and even a little bit touching. Rocket let him change the subject to their flight path, and then Thor came in and started telling some off-the-wall story and it was a while before Rocket and Quill were alone together again.

But the next time it wasn’t funny. They were charting a routine supply run, and Rocket had to keep correcting him because of all the ways that the routes and businesses he had known had changed over the past five years, not to mention the various upgrades to the Benatar itself. Quill’s fuse kept getting shorter and shorter until finally he unstrapped his holster and slammed it onto the table, blasters and all, like that was the only gesture that could match his words. “Fine! You want Thor to be captain so bad, Thor’s captain now!”

Neither of them had been saying a thing about Thor, or who should be captain. The topic hadn’t even come up since they had left Earth. Rocket bared his teeth. “Whatever’s got its claws in you, Quill, you better start dealin’ with it. The rest of us did already.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to deal with it? Gamora’s the only one who ever understood me, and she’s dead! And now there’s another Gamora out there somewhere who doesn’t know us and hates my guts! And you - you -”

Rocket was down on all fours on the table, his fur bristling under his clothes. “Me what? Me went through hell all this time while you got to skip past it? Had a family one day and then nobody but Nebula the next? Gave everything I could to try to get you losers back?” 

Quill crossed his arms and locked eyes with Rocket. “Yeah,” he said, making it sound like a challenge. “All of that.”

There was a short but echoing pause. Rocket stood up. “I’m still here, Quill. Gamora’s not the only one who understood you. She never was.”

“After that battle…” Quill’s voice broke slightly, and he swallowed and took a deep breath before going on. “I saw the way people talked to you. How they respected you. And I thought, man, it took us four years to get to know each other that well. And then I thought, oh, right. They had five.”

That wasn’t news. Rocket had done the math himself, counting the days since Thanos won, and dismissed it as meaningless trivia. But the idea that the Terrans had respected him? Why would they? 

“I get it, y’know,” Quill stated bitterly. “Why the Avengers and all of them didn’t like me. If you feel the same way, I get that too.”

Rocket tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re all still mad because I screwed up the plan on Titan. Stark probably told everyone how I flipped out because...you know.”

“That’s your problem? Friggin’ mushbrained…” He inhaled, then bellowed, “THOR! Get your royal ass in here!”

Thor didn’t hurry, but he did come. He was looking better, although his depression had taken a toll on his body and his full recovery would take time. “Hello Rabbit, Captain Star-Lord,” he said, nodding to each of them. “Is there a cause for concern?”

Rocket jerked his head at Quill. “Yeah. Look, I need this moron to know what you did while he was gone, so just interrupt me if I get anything wrong, okay? Like, we all caught up to Thanos in the Garden and we’re debatin’ what to do with him and you just decide to swing your fancy axe and kill him dead so’s we never get any more answers outta him, is that how you remember that?”

The jovial expression that Thor had been wearing vanished. “Yes,” he replied. “That is how it happened.”

“And then how about when you and me are in Asgard tryin’ to snag the Reality Ooze and the whole future of everything depends on us and that’s when you have your meltdown ‘cause I guess it’s all about you in the end?”

Thor nodded solemnly, but Quill, plainly aghast, muttered, “Geez, dude, let up…”

Rocket shot him a glare. “You think you’re the only one who screwed us all over? This here’s a friggin’ god, calls down lightning an’ shit, and he still blew it. Why are we keepin’ him around, huh? What makes you think he’s gonna be a better captain than you?”

Quill gave Thor a hard look, then turned back to Rocket. “Maybe you’re the one who should be our captain.”

“Right,” said Rocket sarcastically. “Because I’m the one who never made a mistake. You’re a clown, Quill. Think back a little.”

As memories of life with the Guardians played openly across Quill’s face, Rocket took the chance to confront his own past. He had been born in a laboratory and raised by scientists who had barely acknowledged his capacity to feel pain. With everything that had happened, it no longer seemed so important, but he clearly remembered the days when he had thought that all he could be was what they had made him. Time hadn’t taught him differently. The Guardians had. 

Thor stepped forward and put a hand on Quill’s shoulder. He spoke softly and with infinite kindness. “I was the king of my people. I chose to abscond. I have no desire to take your place, Peter Quill, and it’s you that your people need.”

“They need each other. Not me.”

Hearing those words from Quill was as painful as death, and Rocket knew what that meant: there must be some truth to them. The team was fractured. Groot was Groot and Drax was Drax, and Mantis could bypass hours of heartfelt talk with one touch. But Gamora had left an open wound, and Thor was welcomed by all but still an outsider to the ones who had been gone.

Most of all, Rocket and Nebula now stood apart from the others. They had grown. They had changed a little, maybe a lot. It didn’t matter to Rocket, so he didn’t know what to do when he saw how it mattered to Quill.

“Yeah,” Rocket heard himself saying. “Five years without you, an’ I survived it. Never woulda thought it myself, but I guess that’s proof I didn’t need you.”

Thor’s eyes were wide; Quill’s were bloodshot and unfocused. “Are you…” He paused and inhaled deeply. “Are you going to go back and join the Avengers?”

“Like hell!” Rocket growled. “I’m a Guardian of the Galaxy, not some pansy-ass Avenger, no offense Thor.”

“None taken.”

“There’s nothin’ left for me on that d’ast planet. Just bad memories. People dyin’ who I didn’t want to die. You oughta get this better than anyone, Quill.” Rocket raked his claws through the fur on his head. “If you don’t, then why did we leave?”

Quill’s response was plainly automatic, and it took a second for his brain to catch up to his words. “Because my mother--!” He blinked. “Oh.”

Thor was grinning broadly, all of a sudden. “Well,” he announced, “I think I’ll go and have a salad.”

After he had left, Rocket and Quill were left staring at each other for a few moments, and then finally, both sighed and sat down at almost the same instant. 

“Five years, man,” said Quill.

“Still waitin’ for you to ask what I was doing all that time,” Rocket replied.

The laugh that Quill let out was as real and familiar and sweet as his anger had been. He sat up straighter and asked with cautious eagerness, “So...what did you think of Earth?”

Rocket felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, making his whiskers twitch. He cocked an ear at his friend. “You ever had a Marshmallow Peep?”

[dresupi]

Mr. Raven - Jon Snow/Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy

for @ibelieveinturtles​ Rated T 994 words Mr. Raven - MC Lars

A/n: Modern AU bc it’s what I do... also this is crack treated seriously. VERY SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS. Much serious. ;)

AKA, it’s loosely inspired by the Raven. And I mean loosely. I mean, it waves at the Raven from a passing jet plane as it begins its descent into the airport of Modern GoT AU.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Theon frowned at the screen, highlighting a rather large portion of the manuscript and adding a comment to the side. “Wordy? Wall of text?”

He glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of the screen. They should be back by now.

Sansa wasn’t going to be happy with some of his comments on her rough draft. Not that it wasn’t good. Everything she wrote was good. Not just good, wonderful.

But a majority of this most recent, penultimate chapter she’d sent him was heavy-handed.

Of course, he was trying to give her a bit of leeway, considering this was supposed to be a gothic romance, and those tended to be full of tropes and cliches. But this was a bit much.

First off, the love interest was constantly whinging and being distracted by the protagonist’s brilliantly voluptuous breasts.

Second, the raven that seemed to foretell tragedy had more personality in one claw than the love interest had in his entire body.

And the female protagonist seemed too smart to be taken in by the evil man keeping her as his ward.

Theon knew what the genre dictated, but this was a bit much. When he was rooting for a bird over everyone else in the story, then perhaps it became an issue.

A loud thumping at the door startled him, jarring him from his thoughts as he pushed back from the desk. Jon and Sansa had a key, who was knocking?

He pulled open the door to find a thoroughly soaked Jon Snow, wearing an equally wet black hooded sweatshirt, arms laden with plastic grocery sacks, and looking very much like he wanted to kick Theon in the face.

“Why are you knocking? Don’t you have a key?” Theon mused, holding out an arm and nearly toppling over from the weight of the bags.

“I do, but I dropped it somewhere in the mudslide of a driveway that you still haven’t rung someone about,” Jon muttered under his breath.

Theon smirked. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“It’s a phone, Greyjoy,” Jon grumbled. “I could do it in five minutes.”

“So do it, where’s Sansa?”

“She’ll be along in a mo, she’s waiting out the downpour in the car.” Jon motioned to the car parked at the end of the driveway, a mobile screen lighting up Sansa’s face in the passenger seat.

“I gave her rough draft a once-over,” Theon said, hefting the bags onto the ground so he could start sifting through them for things that needed to be chilled.

Jon snickered. “And?”

“It’s… different.”

“She always gets them published, Theon. She’s won awards.”

“I know, I know. But this one is very different.”

“What’d you think of the raven?” Jon asked, grinning widely as he fished out some chicken for the refrigerator.

“I thought the raven was the best part. Even though he only says that one word, he still has more characterization than any other one person in the entire novel.”

“That’s on purpose,” Jon replied, smirking. “She said it was a commentary on the genre. That the symbols spoke more than the characters.”

“Oh. I didn’t get that, but I wasn’t reading into it that much…” Theon glanced worriedly back at the computer. Perhaps he should amend his comments accordingly.

“I haven’t read it, mind. She just talked to me about it since she couldn’t with you this time.”

“She could have done,” Theon countered.

“Nah, she wanted your fresh thoughts.”

“So all the comments I made which tore apart her rough draft word by word… I should leave those in there? She won’t throw me out in a huff?”

“No, she won’t,” Sansa replied, slicking her soaked hair out of her face. “But she might argue, so be prepared for that.”

Theon placed the bread in the box on the counter and shot a smirk in her direction. “I always am, love.”

“Did Jon tell you how I based the raven on him?”

“What?” Theon squawked. “And who am I? The hapless stable boy who can’t tell his arse from his elbow when the protag’s breasts are in the vicinity?”

Sansa shrugged, smiling in that way that drove him crazy. “If the horseshoe fits.”

“Well, that raven only speaks one word, so there,” he countered, as much to Jon as to Sansa. “At least the stable boy has a decent vocabulary.”

“You’re right, Theon. A decent vocabulary will definitely keep your woman safe,” Jon teased.

“Better than wings and a beak, Bird-boy,” Theon retorted.

“You know you’ve had more than your share of romantic heroes based upon you, Theon,” Sansa reminded him, her hand carding through his hair and making his eyes flutter closed. “You’re quite heroic in your own way.”

“Aye, but I’ve not yet been bested by a bird. Figuratively. Plot-wise.”

“And you still haven’t, you stupid-ass,” Jon remarked from where he was tossing his soaked clothing into the washing machine.

“He’s right, you know. If anything, you and the bird are even.”

“Can’t help but think we’re not talking about the book anymore…” he mused, resuming his putting away of the groceries as Sansa too began peeling off her wet clothes. He made it a point not to stare at her breasts, but the pull was too powerful. Especially given the way she stalked near starkers to the computer to read through his comments.

Only then did he duck down behind a cupboard door to narrowly miss the pencil she threw at him.

“Oy!” he called in protest.

“You said I was too wordy? Wall of text? That’s rich coming from you, Stable Boy of Empty Verse.”

“I’m not the one who used four adverbs in a single, run-on sentence, Sans.”

“That’s it. Your character’s totally dying,” she snapped. And he heard the clack of the keys.

“I won’t worry, then. With the state of your rough draft, I’ll have a lifetime of tedious, monotonous, repetitious, insipid waiting.”

The resulting ball-point pen barrage was infinitely worth it.

[nessamaurice]

Simple, Ch. 8 (Loki x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Tony and the Avengers are in desperate need of something like a “babysitter” to have an eye on Loki and teach him “how to human”. He decided to stay on Midgard over the dungeons of Asgard as punishment for his deeds in New York. That’s where you swoop in. A simple receptionist at the Avengers compound. You have to share an apartment in the compound with Loki and damn, he’s a really tough nut. With your open and kind character it seems that you are slowly cracking his shell. But suddenly things are getting twists that will change your life and your relationships there irreversibly.

Story rating: M

chapter trigger warnings: torture, harming, human experiments, captivity, suicide thoughts

Words: 3301

8

Shortly after you disappeared all hell broke loose. Loki actually was there but changed his mind to stop you the last second. But the moment you got into the lift he felt a jolt that that was a giant mistake. He appeared back from the void where he hid and rushed after you but JARVIS had locked up all doors. He shouted for help and soon everyone was trying to get JARVIS to work properly again. Bruce sent a distress alert to Tony who arrived not much later and came in through the terrace door.

"What the hell is going on here?!" 

"JARVIS got hacked, he won't let us open the doors. Y/N was called to get outside and then we got locked up here." Loki explained.

Tony went pale within seconds. He ran into his lab to check on JARVIS. Loki was right, there was a virus program running. It didn't took him longer than a few minutes to get rid of it.

"JARVIS, what happened? Where's Y/N?"

"I am so sorry, Sir. I got intruded and was forced to ask Miss Y/N to go outside the personal rooms. Here is the CCTV from the lift."

The others stood behind Tony and all watched as a video frame popped up and showed you going down with the elevator and then getting kidnapped. Tony couldn't hold back his tears as he watched you going down on your knees, losing your consciousness.

"JARVIS, tell me her bracelet is working."

"Again, I am sorry. Either the bracelet is broken, which is unlikely or there is another virus hidden that keeps me from activating it again. I cannot locate."

"Tony, speak with us! Why would they kidnap Y/N?", Natasha asked Tony, grabbing him at the shoulder and trying to make eye contact.

"She... she... is my niece." That left everyone simply starstruck. Since there was no other way now, Tony explained them everything he found out within the last few days. Clint was the first one to speak again.

"Okay, that's a real shitload of complicating news. But the most important thing is to get this virus off of JARVIS so we will be able to locate her. Tony," he clapped in his hands to rip him out of his apathy, "that's your bodiless robot here, so get some shit done. Bruce, go check all your medical data you collected about her and try to find out why she may be of interest for someone. The rest of us should go through all the CCTV since she moved in. We have to find out how and why she was taken. Okay guys, let's go."

Everyone started to get busy with their tasks. They were all just so eager to find you, but it turned out that this way harder than all of them thought. As hours became days you went through pure hell.

***

You told Fieberbrunn what you remembered from the accident, but not everything. You didn't know why, but you changed the story a bit. You told him that you almost died in the accident and he left you lying on the street, presumed dead. You said it was all in fragments because you were severely injured, but you were told afterwards that soon after the accident another car drove by and provided first aid, calling an ambulance. The next thing you recalled was waking up in hospital months later. You didn't tell him what really happened.

This soldier brought you to someone he knew who could help you. Your eyes were closed but you didn't completely pass out, so you heard everything they said.

"Bucky! Where have you been so long? What happened?", a woman said after she opened the door. She had a british accent.

"I failed my mission. She reminded me of someone, someone I knew. My order was to bring her to the base, but I couldn't. I killed her parents. It happened again, they brought the Soldier back. I don't know for how long. I did so many things. So much cruelty. Please, help me, Doc. Help her." His voice was so full of panic and agony.

"My god, of course, come in, quick."

You heard creaking of wooden stairs, doors that were opened and closed silently. You were laid down on a hard mattress. You felt hands gently examining you, then the woman spoke again.

"I will have to get her into hospital. She is really severely injured. I think she has to be put into coma to stop her brain from swelling. She is not completely unconscious by now, maybe she can even hear us, but if we don't do something really soon it will not end well. Bucky, it's okay. It's not your fault. You were forced to do this. It wasn't even you. The soldier did this. All you did was fighting the Soldier and saving her. You have done the right thing. I will keep an eye on her. Do you know her name?"

"Y/N. I have to stay. I have to be sure that she will be alright. Let me stay."

"Okay. I can arrange that. But first of all I have to sedate her to relieve her organism."

You let out a silent moan as something pierced your arm and the voices ceased.

As you opened your eyes again you were in a hospital, in a single bed room. Slowly you turned your head to one side and then to other. In the farthermost corner you saw the man with the metal arm leaning against the wall. Your eyes met and panic began to rise again, followed by the accelerated beeping of your heart monitor. His expression was worried and helpless. Out of nowhere a pretty, blonde woman appeared right next to you and held your hand.

"Hey Y/N, it's alright. You are safe. He will not harm you. Listen to me, my dear. You are severely injured. We will have to put you into an artificial coma. That means we will let you sleep for a long while so your body gets enough rest to heal. Don't worry, honey. I will be always by your side, you will never be alone. And don't be afraid of Bucky. The one who hurt you is another person than him. I will protect you. We will."

At first you didn't want to believe what you heard. However, you knew she was telling you the truth, so you simply nodded and felt tears rolling down your cheeks, wetting your pillow.

"Oh, it's ok sweetheart. Don't worry, we will find someone to take care of you. Someone you know, and trust."

You wanted to say something. You dearly wanted to tell her that your uncle would look after you. But as you tried to speak you could only retch because of the tube in your throat.

"No, no. Don't try to speak. That's not good for you. We will find the person, alright? Now, rest again. Don't hurry. Everything will be just fine." She shared a beautiful but sad smile. Her bright red lips and deep brown eyes were the last thing you saw before everything went dark again.

As you eventually woke up again you were alone at first. You blinked into the orange dim light of an autumn afternoon. After a while a blonde woman entered the room to check on you and a broad smile decorated her face as she saw you looking at her.

"Oh my god, darling! How wonderful, you're finally awake! Take it easy. You made us worry a bit already but it's great that you take your time. The important thing is that you are doing very well. Your injuries are not completely healed by now but you are making good progress. Do you remember what happened? Do you remember me?"

You concentrated as good as possible, took in all her features; big brown eyes, wavy blonde hair, beautiful red tinted lips. It felt like you knew her before, but she seemed to be a stranger. You carefully shook your head.

Her smile dimmed a bit and she patted your hand. "Don't worry. That's okay. I'm sure you are feeling dizzy. If you want to you can sleep again a bit. I'll be always around your room. Here -" she gently lifted your hand and placed a small plastic box beneath it, "when you need something, no matter what, even if it is just some company, press this button. I'll be here within a minute. Okay, I'll stay until you are asleep again, alright?"

You felt her genuine compassion for you. It helped you calm down and soon you drifted into a dreamless sleep. In the following days you woke up and fell asleep again over and over, but the awake periods became longer every time. Then a woman appeared by your bed. You could have sworn you knew her, but had no idea who she was. But you felt affection towards her. Something in her face reminded you of happy times, so you trusted her.

With that information you ended your story. You were so tired, you just wanted to sleep. But every time your head doubled over you got slapped. Every time you got hit you didn't only feel the pain of the slap but also a rush of anger, but it felt so strange, like it wasn’t your anger. You had no idea how long you were kept here already but it felt just like years. Your skin was bruised and cold, your wrists so sore that every time you moved your hands a bit you tore the wounds open again because the scab stuck to the shackles. The dull but intensive pain of a cystitis was omnipresent. You reached the point where your body was about to give up and pass out, but they didn't let you. Every time you were close to losing conscious they added drugs to your infusion which set you on high alert mode. You were so desperately overstimulated that every second of being awake was too much. You just wanted to close your eyes forever and end this torture. They asked you so many questions you didn't know the answer to. Every time you couldn't answer they cut another part of your body. Only small wounds, about 3 cm long and not too deep to be dangerous but soon your whole body was burning, blood dripping on the floor. They even bent you over to cut the flesh on your back. You felt your blood making the chair glibbery and slick. After some time your opponent had enough of you. He took hold of your throat and came real close. You felt his rage and impatience, causing your heart to pond and your blood to rush. He wanted to say something, to threaten you but stopped. You could vividly feel him giving up on you for the moment and how he had to restrain himself from strangling you. His fingers went soft while he let go of you. He spoke in German again to the two big men who appeared immediately, "Schafft sie mir aus den Augen. Ich kann mit ihr jetzt fürs Erste nichts mehr anfangen. Einzelhaft." While he was talking he disconnected you from all the monitors and opened the shackles, not bothering to give you some gauze or something to stop your blood from running. The two men grabbed you by your arms and dragged you out of the chair. They hauled you through some corridors and dropped you on the dirty floor of a very small room. No bed, just a scratchy blanket on the floor. Exhausted to an unbearable level, you took all the strength you had left and crawled over to the blanket, almost not able to lift your limbs. In your mind you were permanently praying, begging. Why is this happening to me? Dear Lord, oh God please. Get me out. Just get me out. Send me strength. Send me ... someone... Why.. I can’t... please... Your already wounded hands and knees were scratching over the crumbly concrete floor. You reached it just in time before you passed out.

A familiar scent was the first thing that broke the faint. Fresh linen and sun warmed leather. You mouthed a name without even recognising, "Loki...", but all your lips left was a pathetic caw. Warily you opened one eye; the other one stuck together of blood and wound secretion. Someone had put a thin linen blanket over your bare and bloody body as you were unconscious. Dozens of small blood spots soaked it up and made it stick a bit onto the wounds. Very carefully you tried to sit up. Next to you stood a glass of a thick, milky liquid and something that looked like a protein bar. Driven by hunger you reached out as fast as you could manage and devoured the bar. You sniffed at the liquid and tasted it, the viscous consistency was so strange to swallow that you retched at first, but it was also like balm for your hoarse throat. After you had finished your modest meal you unstuck the blanket from your body and wrapped it very carefully around your shoulders. You looked around; a very small room made of concrete, windowless.The only light source was the slit beneath the heavy metal door. It had a small barred window with a slide hatch. You took a deep breath and tried to analyze the situation, but all you could think of was your home. Your new home. You've been living there only for a short time now but it felt like you would belong there. Of course you did. It was your family. It is your family. Your lost memories hit you hard. Why am I here? Why do I have to get through this?  Suddenly you missed him so much; your uncle. Tones. And you were surprised but you missed Loki as well. Really bad, actually. You longed for their presence. All the happy memories with your uncle popped up in your mind. You had so much fun together, you loved him so dearly. It felt like no time had passed, your feelings newly ignited after so many years. You wanted to cry but your body was so weary. A part of you just wanted to die right away; never feel this pain again, this humiliation, this despair. But another part wanted to get out. Get back to your recently won family. Those parts were fighting each other for a long time and you didn't know which one would win. But the longer you thought about dying, maybe killing yourself somehow in this cell, the more you opposed the idea. You were surprised as you accepted that you actually wanted to live. To not give up. Hold on until they would find you, and they would. You just knew it. Lord, you want me alive, don’t you? Please, give me something. Anything! You were torn from your pondering as the hatch in the door was slid open. Empty eyes staring down at you, then the hatch closed again. The door opened with heavy clicking and rattling. A woman dressed in white was pushed inside.

"Go on Missy, patch her up. The doctor wants her back in order asap."

The woman stumbled and almost tripped. The guard kicked in a doctor's case after her that slid over the floor until it stopped right next to her, the door was closed and locked again. She fixed her firm, blonde ponytail and picked on her white surgical clothes, strictly avoiding eye contact. Though so many years had passed you recognized her still beautiful face immediately.

"Doc?"

Her eyes darted at you. "I haven't been called this for years.", she whispered. She came closer, crouched down in front of you and studied your face. "My god..." she gasped, pressing a hand on her mouth to muffle the sounds. Tears shot in her big, brown eyes. Gently she cupped your face with one hand. So many feeling rushed through you; compassion, pity, worries, happiness and sadness all at once.

"Sweetheart, my god, what happened to you? You poor thing..." She grabbed her case and started to treat your wounds, beginning with your eye. 

"Are we being watched?" You whispered.

"No, this is one of the cells without surveillance. And the douchebag in front of the door is half deaf. We can talk. I guess you didn't tell them about me? Or Bucky? Otherwise they wouldn't have sent me in to treat you."

"No. I don't know why, but I couldn't tell them. I said the man with the metal arm presumed me dead and left. A passerby would have found me and called the ambulance. The next thing was me waking up in hospital alone." Then you told her just everything. She had to wipe away her tears every once in a while as she listened, treating your wounds. Your system was so overloaded with pain signals that you didn't even twitched as she sanitized your cuts. As you finished your story it was her turn.

"I had to work for Hydra as a doctor for a long time. Eventually I could manage to escape and I was too unimportant to sent someone after me; I didn't know any secrets and all I did could be done by any other physician as well. It was very unlikely that they just had let me go without chasing me, but later I had to find out that this was calculated. I was part of the team that was in charge of Bucky's transformation into a Soldier. It happened that, from time to time, very simple things he sensed in any way found a path into his subconscious and conjured Bucky back to the surface. They handled this problem with electro shocks wiping his memory, his mind over and over again. It was so awful to watch, but all I could do was to be there for him, whether he was Bucky at the moment or the Soldier. I became a confidant for them both. Then, after I escaped, it happened twice that Bucky came back while he was on a mission as the Soldier. I still don't know how, but he found me and I helped him through these times. He tried to hide from Hydra but they always found him. And wiped him over again. The last time I saw him was when he brought you to my door. It was pure luck that Hydra didn't find out about you before their spies spotted us. We got caught a month after you got adopted by your mom's friend; she was the only relative-like person I could find. When Hydra caught us, they put Bucky back to cryostasis. I haven't heard of him since then. And I was forced to work here in the Hydra prison, taking care of the captives. That's my story so far. Oh honey, I wish so dearly I could do more for your than just caring for your wounds." She furrowed her brows and tried to hold back the tears.

You reached out and gently touched her cheek. "It's okay. I owe so much to you. You saved my life. I couldn't ask for more. Thank you just for everything. I'm so happy that I remember you now and that I can thank you for being there for me, on those days and now. You are so precious." As you spoke to her she weren't able to hold back the tears and smiled at the same time. Then, all in a sudden, her eyes went wide and she stared you dead in the eye. A jolt like lightning shot through you, you were immediately highly alerted. "What's wrong??"

"My god, you... you are-" She was interrupted by the rattling of the door. She hastily wiped away her tears and shuffled a bit away from you to keep the impression that you were just another patient. She collected her medical equipment and crammed it in her case as the door opened.

"You're time's up, nurse. Get out." The guard stepped aside to give her enough space to slip outside. Before she went around the corner she gave you quick look and a small smile, then she disappeared. The guard said nothing, just stared down at you and closed the door again, leaving you alone in the dark with your thoughts and the silence.

Taglist: @it-jinxed-us​, @humbledarkness​, @lunawitch19, @redryderdesigns​

[vannahfanfics]

Romance Dawn

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia

Requested by: @searchfortheonepiece (Tumblr)

“-Happy birthday dear Luuuuucyyyyy! Happy birthday to youuuuu~!”

Lucy’s cheeks were glowing an animated, happy pink as they hollowed for her to suck in a breath, then inflated as she released it to extinguish the sputtering little flames ornamenting the handful of candles that were decorating her birthday cake. As soon as the fires were diminished, Lucy’s eager fingers plucked the wax constructions from the cake; the sooner she could have that mouthful of delicious confection in her mouth, the better! Mirajane’s cooking and baking skills were both legendary, and the creamy texture of the buttercream icing and the flecks of moist cake dropping from the ends of the candles had Lucy’s mouth nearly drooling. Mirajane, seeing her squirm in anticipation, chuckled and wasted no time in carving a large sliver from her creation. No sooner than it dropped down on a plate in front of her did Lucy dive into it was a plastic fork. She nearly melted into a puddle on the spot.

“Oh my God, Mirajane, it’s delicious!” Her compliment was a bit distorted from the square of cake that was bulging in her cheeks, but Mirajane received it well enough.

“Why, thank you, Lucy. Happy birthday!”

As per tradition, the guild had orchestrated a massive birthday party to celebrate Lucy turning one year older. Following the eating (or, absolute destruction of) the birthday cake, the members participated in a number of fun, zany party games that of course took a turn for the deadly as the more monstrously powerful mages got a little bit too competitive. Juvia had to put out at least four fires that Natsu started, Natsu and Gray got in no less than seven fistfights, and somehow poor Wendy got suspended by the back of her dress from the chandelier and cried until Gajeel got her down. It was no less than what Lucy expected from a Fairy Tail party, and she thoroughly enjoyed it; however, even she had her social meter, and thus when everyone was occupied watching Cana and Erza in a beer-chugging contest, she stole out of the front entrance for a brief moment of respite.

They had been at it since about ten in the morning. As she closed the guild’s door quietly shut behind her, she was a little amazed that the sun was setting already. How time flies, she marveled silently. The sun was only halfway down the sky, a thin streak of blue hovering over a cascade of yellow, orange, then deep red as the burning ball of light encroached on the cityscape that housed the Fairy Tail guild. The buildings were thrown into deep shadows as they eclipsed the roiling sun. Violet began to spill down from the north, slowly seeping into the slimming trail of blue sky like ink traveled down a page. A small, content smile was on Lucy’s face as she leaned up against the outside wall of the guild watching the beautiful sunset. Life really was all able the simple pleasures. One by one, the stars blotted into existence, little glittering diamonds on a fluttering cape of night.

“Hey, Lucy. What’re you doin’ out here?” Lucy’s brown eyes tore away from the splendorous display as she was suddenly address. The wooden door clicked shut behind Natsu as he stepped out onto the cobblestone street, looking at her with curious green eyes slightly offset with the tilt of his head. Before he could ask if she was dissatisfied in some way, she gave him a light, reassuring smile.

“Ah, I just came out here to get some fresh air, that’s all! Who won the drinking contest?”

“Cana did, of course. Now Erza’s sloshed,” he answered. The sag in his shoulders and weary expression combined with the faint rumbling of upended tables and slung chairs echoing from within the massive building indicated that Erza’s rage had been released upon the poor denizens of the guild. No wonder Natsu snuck outside too; he was sure to be caught up in it in one way or another if he lingered too long. His face only held that uncomfortable frown for a moment before it brightened to that beautiful, sunny smile that Lucy loved so dearly. Lucy loved so many things about him- that cotton-candy tufty hair that she so longed to run her fingers through, his magnetically energetic personality that seemed to draw her in so powerfully, those green eyes that shone like a grassy summer meadow threaded with emerald flowers… Yet, it was that smile that always captured her, so pure and alight with unbridled joy and child-like affection. Seeing it always made Lucy’s heart clench in her chest- both from the absolutely absurd adorableness and the fact that Natsu likely didn’t see Lucy in the way she saw him. Ugh, don’t think about stuff like that right now… It’s your birthday, dammit!

“Wow, it’s gettin’ dark fast,” Natsu commented as he walked over to lean up against the wall beside her, hands slipped into the pockets of his baggy shorts. He was entire head taller than her, so she had to crane her neck to look at him; the way he was intently staring up at the setting sun made her suck in a small breath. The light played over him beautifully; his sharp jawline was accented into a ridge sharper than Erza’s blades as the shadows passed over his body, and in other areas his skin took on a golden hue from the intensity of the sun’s final moments. His green eyes sparkled with hidden flecks of treasured gold, while his cotton-candy hair seemed to burn all the brighter atop his head, almost the color of azaleas. Lucy’s cheeks flashed that color as his green eyes flickered to meet hers; she was all but caught red-handed gawking at him like a lovestruck teenager. His canines flashed at her as a smug grin spread across his features. “Anyway, Lucy, I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” Her embarrassment was immediately forgotten at the promise of a gift. He turned such that he was propped up against the wall at an angle, large bicep molding into the grain of the wood as his other hand fished deep into his pocket. Lucy’s eyes widened as, with a triumphant grin, his arm flew up to reveal a fist wrapped around the slightly swaying silver chain of a pendant necklace. A couple of little star charms hung on the end of the necklace, and the celestial mage immediately felt her heart swell to the point of bursting with gratitude. “Oh, Natsu… It’s so pretty…” she whispered as delicate fingers rose to run over the white enamel decorating the little silver star shapes. Natsu grin was brighter than the setting sun overhead.

“Lemme put it on for you!” he said with a motion for her to turn around. Lucy did as bid, her hand smoothly sliding her blonde pigtails away from the nape of her neck to allow him unrestricted access. She could not hide the sharp inhale of breath as his fingers ghosted over her skin, raising the small, light hairs at the base of her scalp at his feather-like touches. His nimble, sure hands attached the clasp at the back of her neck and the charms fell down against her chest, and Lucy thought that would be that; however, her entire body stiffened as she was greeted with an unexpected and riveting sensation- Natsu’s lips, pressed against the small patch of skin just above where the chain wound around her slender neck. The tension of the chords of muscles in her body prompted him to push his lips further against her skin and give a sultry murmur of her name.

“N-Natsu,” she stammered and compulsively reached up to enclose a hand around the star charms dangling at her neck, though she hadn’t the faintest idea why; perhaps, she was in desperate need to ground herself on something corporeal, lest she float away from the sheer amount of helium-like bliss bubbling up inside her body. Natsu seemed to realize that she was in no way resisting. Lucy audibly evidenced that as she breathed a deep, shaky sigh at the feeling of his hands returning to her neck, one steadying over the pulsing beat of her jugular while the other slid forward to gently cup her chin, slowly pulling her face back over her shoulder. Lucy’s hazy brown eyes were met with emerald pools of yearning desire and she lightly parted her lips on complete reflex. “Natsu,” she breathed again, an open invitation.

Natsu didn’t waste it.

A low moan hummed in her throat as his mouth enveloped hers. His lips were softer than clouds and sweeter than honey, melting over hers like the finest chocolate. The fluffy pink fibers of his hair weaved into her own long, trailing blonde strands as he moved rhythmically against her, like he wanted to feel every centimeter of her mouth and then some. The hand resting at the side of her neck slowly crept forward to push over the hand that was holding the star charms in a white-knuckled grip, slowly teasing her fingers apart to entwine them tightly with his. When they finally broke apart, they were both a little winded, their huffing pants for air mingling in the very thin stretch of July air between their faces. Lucy’s eyes fluttered as she remained momentarily suspended in the lusty haze, while Natsu beamed broadly and rested his forehead against hers.

“Happy birthday.” After the fog had finally lifted from her brain, Lucy blinked before giving him a sweet smile.

“Hehe, thank you, Natsu. I couldn’t have asked for a better present.”

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon to allow the curtain of night to fall, it signaled a new romance dawn for Lucy and Natsu’s relationship…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[mamabearcat]

Into the Woods - Part One

Yes, as usual, it started as a one shot and then.... maaaaybe three parts to this? Not sure what to rate this one - it’s sorta dark but no more graphic than the original manga I guess, where people get ripped apart on the daily. For the moment, I’m gonna say T. Listened to The Cure’s Lullaby while writing this one...

On candy stripe legs the Spiderman comes Softly through the shadow of the evening sun Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead Looking for the victim shivering in bed Searching out fear in the gathering gloom and Suddenly A movement in the corner of the room And there is nothing I can do When I realize with fright That the Spiderman is having me for dinner tonight

Tagging everyone who asked to be @clearwillow @keichanz @redflamesofpassion @xxracheyxx You know what to do if you wanna join the tag train.

Kagome’s heart thudded in her ears as she careered out of the doorway, half fastened boots slipping on the gravelled path. The plastic toggle on the drawstring of her oversized red hoodie whipped into her cheek as she skidded around the corner of the house. The chilled mountain air felt harsh, catching in her throat as she gasped for breath, the oxygen in her lungs stolen by the horrifying images just left behind.

A vision of her loving grandfather’s face, his features twisted almost beyond recognition into a mask of lust and violence swam before her eyes and she pushed it away, madly dashing towards the crumbling steps leading downwards towards the moss-covered Torii gate, uncaring of the high possibility of falling and snapping her neck in her eagerness to get away.

“There’s no point running little girl. I seeee yooouu.”

Kagome smothered a sound midway between a terrified shriek and a sob behind her shaking hand. A childhood memory of hide and seek with her grandfather tore at her, made her gasp, tears threatening to spill. It was still her grandfather’s voice, but she knew. She knew it wasn’t him.

She began running down the eroded stone steps, her loose boots almost tripping her up. The worn dirt path stretched out ahead of her, a clear escape route all the way to the main road. But wouldn’t he expect her to use the path? The road was a forty-minute hike away, and it was doubtful that any cars would be travelling towards the isolated shrine at dusk. And what if he caught up to her? He’d already proven that even though he looked like her grandfather, his strength and speed wasn’t that of a frail man in his late seventies.

Her thoughts leaped towards the only other person she’d seen in the forest today – the grumpy woodcutter who’d warned her to stay on the path, the inu youkai with silver hair and ears and piercing amber eyes. Could she find him in the dwindling light? He’d told her he lived in the forest, but she had no idea where.

The only thing she could do was run. Mama was far away in Tokyo. No one else apart from the woodcutter even knew she was here. No one would be coming to save her. Choking back another sob she plunged into the increasing gloom of the forest next to the path and ran, heedless of the sharp twigs tearing bloodied scratches into her pale skin.

---

 “Are you sure you have everything you need honey?”

Kagome smiled at her mother as she shrugged her yellow backpack onto her shoulder, heavy with a week’s worth of clothes and her mother’s gifts of food for her grandfather.

“Yup, I’m all set.” She knew the tightness around her mother’s eyes and mouth were due to more than the early morning start to make it to the station on time; she was really worried about Grandpa. Kagome was glad that she could ease her mother’s burden by travelling to the isolated mountain shrine to check up on him.

“You know I’ll be there by Sunday, right?” The slightly shaky tone of her mother’s voice confirmed Kagome’s theory. “I’m so sorry I can’t come straight away, but there’s no one available to take over the project at work, and with Souta having his high school entrance exams this week… Grandpa sounded so frail and frightened on the phone, not like himself at all, and I just…”

“Mama, calm down! It’s not like I’m a little kid anymore - we’ve been over this.” She stroked her mother’s arm, trying to reassure her. “I’m happy that I can go check on Grandpa. It’s just lucky that I have time before my next semester begins at university.” She smiled at her mother, watching her take a deep calming breath. “And besides, I haven’t visited the shrine yet since he moved there. It’ll be nice to have time to visit with him and breathe a little fresh mountain air.”

“You remember which bus to catch from the station right?” fussed her mother in a worried tone. “And you’ve got the map? Make sure you get there before it’s dark, the forest trails can be slippery if it rains or gets foggy. And make sure you stay on the path – I don’t want to get a call to tell me you’ve broken your leg getting your foot stuck in a fox hole or something.”

“Mama, you worry too much!” Kagome grinned, leaning forward to embrace the slightly shorter woman in a swift hug. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see; Grandpa probably just has a bad cold, and after I pamper him for a few days with all the food you’ve packed he’ll be feeling much better, chewing my ear off with one of those old youkai folktales he used to tell me at bedtime. You might not even have to come at the end of the week – I promise I’ll call tonight and let you know how things are.”

Her mother returned her hug tightly, pressing her cheek against Kagome’s and rocking her slightly from side to side. “I know, honey, I know, I’m probably worrying over nothing, but just humour your mother okay? I just have a feeling that somethings not right. Please, please be careful.”

The whooshing sound of the Shinkansen approaching the station cut short their conversation. Kagome lined up behind the number painted on the platform that corresponded to her assigned carriage. She blew her mother a final kiss as the door slid open and stepped onto the train.

 ---

Kagome swung her backpack down to the ground, and pushed her hands into the small of her back glad to be able to stretch after sitting on public transport all day. She had been walking up the steep mountain trail for about twenty minutes, and guessed she was about halfway to the shrine. Time for a little break and she definitely deserved a snack. She sat down on a moss-covered log next to the path, sipping water and munching appreciatively on the pale pink mochi bought at the little family run stall near the bus stop at the base of the mountain trail. It was well past her usual lunch time, and the sakura mochi sweetened with red bean paste was just what she’d needed.

Her mind pondered the weird interaction with the stall owner as she swallowed the last mouthful. She’d been chatting happily to the smiling old lady after she made her choice and handed over her coins, and it had been a total surprise when the woman had gasped in horror when she’d explained where she was travelling. The tiny woman had shuffled away into a back room, pushing aside the sun faded noren that hung in the doorway and returning moments later with a small object clutched in her arthritic hand. She had thrust it into Kagome’s palm – a yakuyoke omamori.

“For protection against evil”, she’d whispered, looking around suspiciously as if they might be overheard by someone, folding Kagome’s fingers over the small yellow brocade talisman and squeezing them tight. “Stay on the path – I warned your Grandfather, but he refused to listen.” Before Kagome could thank her, she’d disappeared behind the fabric divider again. The conversation was obviously over.

Kagome pulled the small rectangular amulet out of the pocket of her cut off denim shorts and held it in her palm again. She held it up by the looped string, watched it twisting in the sunlight filtering down through the green canopy above, the gold brocade glinting. She smiled indulgently at the old woman’s superstition. Her Grandfather was the same; he’d been brought up in a Shinto shrine and still followed the old ways.

He had spent many hours telling her traditional stories about youkai and miko, and his childhood growing up in a shrine. She’d even considered taking on a part-time position as a miko at a nearby shrine while she completed her university degree as a way to earn a little extra, seeing she was already familiar with many of the duties. But then she’d found a job at her local café that fit her lecture timetable and nursing placement at the hospital, so she hadn’t pursued it, even though she was sure it would have made her Grandfather very proud.

Mama had been a little worried about Grandpa moving back to the mountain shrine traditionally run by his family, but Kagome had understood. He’d moved from Kumamoto prefecture to Tokyo to help look after them when Papa had died, but he’d never really been happy there. Now that his older brother had passed away, he was the last person left to take over as caretaker, unless her or Souta decided to move here.

She breathed in the clean crisp air, enjoying the novelty of solitude. A gentle breeze rushed through the branches above, reminding her of the sound of the sea. Small birds chirped nearby, and black and white butterflies flittered through the soft beams of afternoon sunlight dappling the dirt path in front of her. She took another deep breath. All was quiet and tranquil, so different from the constant bustle of Tokyo. There probably wasn’t another soul around for miles.

“You know, that little scrap a cloth ain’t gonna do shit for ya.”

Kagome shrieked, jumping up from her seat on the fallen log and away from the deep voice that had whispered directly into her ear.  She twisted, almost losing her balance and tripping over as she turned abruptly to see who had broken the silence.

A man was standing there behind the log. Lean, but broad shouldered and a whole head taller than her, a teasing grin on his face. No wait – fangs? Along with claws, short silver hair and… were those dog ears? A youkai then? Kagome wasn’t frightened; she had a few friends at university who were youkai. Shippou was one of her best friends, and Jinenji wouldn’t hurt a fly. She frowned at the grinning male, taking in his black and red checked jacket, dusty jeans and axe resting on his shoulder as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart.

“You scared me you jerk! What are you, some kind of wood cutter?”

“That’s exactly what I am”, he smirked. “And I take it you are lost.”

Kagome bristled slightly at the insinuation. Obviously, he was under the impression that the weak little woman needed saving. “No, I’m not lost! I know exactly where I’m going. I’m walking that way”, she said, pointing up the mountain path.

“Then you’re headin’ in the wrong direction woman. The main road’s back behind you.”

Kagome hmphed, crossing her arms. “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not headed to the main road. I’m walking up to the shrine.”

The tall man’s eyebrows lowered, and he frowned at her, shrugging the wooden axe handle from his shoulder to drop the heavy metal blade on the forest floor with a dull thud. “Why would ya wanna go up there? It’s just a long dusty walk with not much to look at. Nothin’ interesting, no pretty stalls to buy trinkets at, no food, not even a vending machine. You’re wastin’ ya time. You’d better head on back to the road before the last bus comes.”

“Shows how much you know. My Grandpa lives there, he moved there about three months ago. I’m going to visit him.”

The man’s amber eyes widened in surprise. “So, you’re jiji’s granddaughter huh? He’s a stubborn old coot.”

Kagome frowned at him. “You just told me that no-one lived there!”

He smirked, leaning forward a little. “No, if you’d been listening woman, you’d know that I said there was nothing of interest up there – that’s not a lie.”

“Hey, don’t be rude!”

He sighed, scratching his chin with a clawed forefinger and looking upwards to the tree line above as if the conversation was already boring him. “Well, since you’re related to him, and he is kinda my neighbour, I suppose I should introduce myself. Name’s Inuyasha.” He nodded his head in what Kagome supposed could be called an approximation of a bow.

Kagome sighed, clasping her fingers together on her thighs and leaning forward. Just because he was an overly macho grump didn’t mean she couldn’t be polite. “My name is Higurashi Kagome. It’s a pleasure to meet you Inuyasha-san.”

He grinned at her again, one white fang poking over his bottom lip. “It ain’t nice to lie to people Higurashi – no one’s ever been pleased to meet me my whole life, and I doubt you’re gonna be the first.”

Kagome narrowed her eyes at him as she straightened up. “My apologies Inuyasha-san”, she huffed. “My Grandpa is expecting me.” She swung her heavy backpack up onto her shoulders and turned to continue up the mountain path. A grumbling growl followed her.

“Hey, Higurashi Kagome.” She paused. “If you are gonna waste your time goin’ up there, keep your wits about you. You’ve got a couple a hours before sunset, make sure you get there before it gets dark. And stay on the path.”

Kagome turned to face him again, her eyebrow twitching. “You’re the third person to say that to me today. I didn’t think there were any bears left in Kyushu!”

“It ain’t bears ya gotta worry about around here”, he said with a growl. “Just stay on the path Higurashi. And trust your gut!” With that he shouldered his axe and turned to head off into the trees.

“Hey, what about you?!” Kagome yelled behind him as he disappeared in amongst the trees, only the occasional flash of white or red showing his whereabouts, his progress through the heavily wooded forest almost silent.

“Doesn’t apply to me woman; I live here! And I ain’t a weak human like you are. Stay on the path!”

“Jerk!” Grumbling, Kagome hitched her backpack more comfortably on her shoulders and shoved the tiny talisman back in her pocket. If she never saw that grump again, it would be too soon for her.

 ___

 “Grandpa, are you here? It’s me Kagome!” She tapped on the door of the little house behind the shrine. The shrine building and grounds had been still and empty, the bell silent, no incense burning in the large holder, and twigs and leaves littering the gravel around it. Maybe Grandpa wasn’t feeling well enough to sweep them away? The little house seemed silent also, and a small shard of disquiet lodged in Kagome’s chest. What if Mama was right, and there was something really wrong with Grandpa? She tried the front door, but it was locked firmly.

The windows at the front were covered by blinds, so Kagome headed around the side of the house. A small window near the back of the house was uncovered, and she cupped her hands around her face, trying to peer in. The late afternoon sunshine lit up the small kitchen and the scene inside increased her worry. The sink was filled with more than a day’s worth of dirty dishes, and broken glass and spilled rice littered the floor. The door to the refrigerator was wide open.

Kagome ran to the rear of the house, knocking frantically on the back door. “Grandpa! Grandpa, can you hear me? Are you okay? Please open the door!” She twisted the doorknob, and sighed in relief when she found it unlocked. She dropped her backpack and loosened the tops of her hiking boots, toeing them off next to her Grandfather’s neatly arranged shoes.

“Grandpa? Grandpa, where are you?” Kagome ran into the kitchen, stepping carefully around the broken glass on the wooden floor to avoid cutting her sock clad feet. The small tatami room off to one side was empty save for a low table and seating cushions.  The short hallway ended in a bathroom; an open bottle of pain medication left on the sink.

Kagome slid open the door to the next room – her Grandfather’s sleeping futon was still laid out on the tatami mats, the quilt messily turned aside. Kagome was beginning to panic now. She had never known her Grandfather to leave his futon out after sleeping. She glanced unhappily around the room for clues to his whereabouts, her hands clenching and unclenching, but there was nothing except for dust motes drifting through bright beams of sunlight filtering through the paper shoji screens.

She walked back to the kitchen unsure of what to do. Should she call Mama straight away? She pulled her phone out of her pocket, noticing that her battery was nearly dead – she’d been reading and listening to music on the train and bus for hours, so she wasn’t surprised. But calling Mama without knowing where Grandpa was would just frighten her. What should she do? She turned to close the door of the refrigerator and was startled by a sudden tap on her shoulder.

“Grandpa!” She dropped her phone in her surprise, flinging her arms around the old man and bending down to hug him close. “Where were you, I was so worried!” She pulled back to look at his face. His eyes looked bloodshot and his eyelashes were wet, and it looked like there were traces of tears on his pale cheeks. Had he been crying? And the way he was looking at her was like he didn’t recognise her at all!

“Grandpa?” she said uncertainly. “Are you okay? It’s me, Kagome.”

His eyes blinked, and then a wide smile curved his lips. “Ah, Kagome my child, it’s good to see you. Your mother said you would be visiting during your semester break. How are your studies progressing?”

“Never mind that Grandpa! What happened?” She pointed towards the broken glass and spilled rice on the floor.

The old man shrugged and walked towards the broom resting against the refrigerator. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve had a slight cold this week. I was making lunch and had a bit of a dizzy spell. I decided to go sit in the open air outside the shrine and clear my head a little before I cleaned up.”

Kagome bit her lip, trying to push back the pure panic that had been rushing through her only moments before. “But why didn’t I see you? I looked everywhere for you Grandpa!”

Kagome blinked. For a moment, she had thought she saw a look of extreme anger on her Grandfather’s face, but she must have been mistaken. Her Grandfather reached up and patted her shoulder.

“We must have just missed each other dear girl. Go sit down and I’ll make some tea.”

“No, no, I’ll do it. You haven’t been well, and that’s why I’m visiting after all. Please let me look after you Grandpa.” He smiled at her indulgently.

“Very well, if you insist. I’ll go sit down.” She watched him walk out of the kitchen, his steps a little uncertain, like he was still dizzy. She was concerned, but thankful. Things weren’t as bad as she had feared. She would look after him for a few days, and he would be back to his normal blustery self.

 ---

 Kagome bustled around the little kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove and emptying her backpack of the treats her mother had made to bring, twisted azuki bread, tiny matcha butter cookies and a selection of her Grandfather’s favourite tea. She put a plate of treats and a cup of tea on a tray for him, trying to make it look as beautifully presented as Mama would have, and carried it into the tatami room where he was seated on a cushion, gazing at nothing with a vacant expression on his face.

He turned his head towards her at her as she entered the room. She noticed his eyes still looked a little bloodshot; even his iris looked different, the usual dark brown looking almost dark red. He blinked at her, taking a moment to respond to her presence as if he had been deep in thought. Maybe he had a headache? He tilted his head to look at the tray.

“Thank you, child, this looks lovely.”

Smiling happily, Kagome placed the tray down in front of him. “It’s no problem at all Grandpa. I’m just going to go clean up in the kitchen, and then start on dinner okay? Drink your tea before it gets cold.” She watched him reach for the cup, tremors shaking fingers as he reached for his tea. He was definitely ill, but knowing him, he was probably hiding exactly how ill he was from her. She almost chuckled, thinking of what that rude woodcutter she’d met on the trail had said to her earlier - he really was a stubborn old coot wasn’t he.

Kagome plugged in her phone to charge, then finished the washing up, leaving it on the side of the sink to dry, ready to put away later. She used the broom to sweep the spilled rice and broken glass into a little heap near the bin, but couldn’t find a dustpan and brush. Rather than disturb her grandfather, she picked up the biggest pieces with her fingers. A jagged piece sliced across her palm and she dropped the collected glass with a yelp.

“Is everything alright granddaughter?”

“Don’t worry Grandpa, just a little cut, everything’s okay”, she called back. Holding her other hand under her dripping palm she walked over to the now empty sink, wondering where her grandfather might keep his first aid kit. She didn’t think the cut was deep enough to need stitching, but it was stinging quite badly. She must have nicked a blood vessel, because it seemed to be bleeding a lot. She turned on the tap, ready to run it under the water, when her grandfather’s hand shot out from behind her and grabbed hold of her wrist.

“Show me your hand.” Kagome flinched. How did he get into the kitchen so fast, when he had looked so dizzy before? And his voice sounded… odd. Not caring like it usually would if she had injured herself. She turned to look at him as he inspected her palm carefully, the bright red blood pooling in her cupped hand.

“Grandpa, please, it’s gonna drip everywhere and make a mess. Let me… ow, you’re hurting me!’

His grip on her wrist was suddenly fierce, and she whimpered trying to tug her arm back. When did her frail Grandfather suddenly get this strong? His slightly long fingernails were almost piercing her skin and it felt like the bones in her wrist were close to cracking. “Grandpa, please stop!” She tried to look into his eyes to catch his attention, but he seemed to be almost mesmerised by the warm blood that was now beginning to run down her wrist and over his fingers.

“It smells so sweet”, he muttered to himself, ignoring Kagome’s whimpers and efforts to pull back her hand entirely. “I can sense the power of it. Who would have thought such a prize would come to me willingly? I had thought to wait until the mother arrived, but it would be a shame to waste this.” He suddenly jammed the forefinger of his other hand into the open wound and Kagome shrieked, watching him with horror as he pulled back his finger and placed it into his mouth, tasting her blood. He moaned softly, almost like a lover would, then bent his head to slurp and lick the blood out of her palm, pulling at the cut with his other hand to encourage the blood flow.

Kagome tugged backwards frantically trying to get away, her sock covered feet slipping on the wooden floor. This made absolutely no sense. Had her Grandfather gone insane? Had the isolation of the shrine made him crazy? This couldn’t be real! She moaned in horror and he looked up at her, his lips, teeth and chin coated in her blood. His irises were pure red, full of rage and lust and a horrible stench reached her nose, like rotten meat. He grinned at her; his once kindly face unrecognisable.

“No need to prepare dinner Kagome-chan”, he grinned malevolently. “I already have plans.” Purplish black miasma began to leak out of his eyes and mouth and Kagome felt her stomach turn. She reached behind her frantically with her other hand, feeling for anything that might aid her escape. Her fist closed around a heavy cast iron fry pan and she swung it at her Grandfather’s head with all her might, connecting with the side of his skull. There was a flash of bright pink light and she heard a wet cracking sound. The crushing grip on her arm loosened.

Kagome tore her arm away and bolted towards the doorway, shoving her feet haphazardly in her boots. She couldn’t look behind her. She felt like she needed to vomit, but she held it in, retching as she slid open the door, ignoring the beauty of the sunset highlighting the sea of green stretched out below as far as the eye could see. She had hit him. What if she’d killed him? What if she’d killed her own grandfather?

“Kagomeee-chaan…”

Kagome put down her head and ran, shuddering with horror. Whoever it was in that kitchen, it wasn’t her Grandfather.

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Into the Woods - Part 2

[gellavonhamster]

my strange uncles from abroad

gen || Frank Denouement, Ernest Denouement, Beatrice Baudelaire Jr., Lemony Snicket || post-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian 

My strange nephews from abroad I'll meet them on the cosmos streets And we will drink to how we never told you To trust a plastic beat

Bright open eyes, they are still looking They are still finding A few unpoisoned hearts No matter where you are exiled – Gogol Bordello, My Strange Uncles from Abroad

“Mr. Epilogue! Mr. Epilogue, there’s a letter for you!”

“A letter?” Frank asked absentmindedly, his eyes still on the list of guests. He needed to cross out that family from Zagreb: they had just called and cancelled their reservation.  

“For you and your brother, Sir.”

“I’ve picked up the mail from the mailbox literally an hour ago. Did they really deliver anything else?”

“No, Sir,” the maid shook her head. “It was lying on the windowsill in the third-floor hall.”

Frank frowned. His experience showed that the letters appearing from nowhere on the windowsills and cornices and balconies rarely contained good news.  

“Give me the letter.”

“I was thinking,” the maid began to gabble, “that maybe you dropped the envelope when you were picking up the mail and some guest picked it up, only it’s strange they’d put it on the wind…”  

“Miss Blumenfeld,” Frank interrupted her, “would you kindly give me the letter?”

The girl pursed her lips, handed him the envelope, and walked away, swinging a feather duster fretfully.  

The envelope was pretty crumpled. There was no stamp, no return address – nothing but his and Ernest’s current surname and place of employment, something that barely anyone should have known. Perhaps in vain they had hoped that it would be enough just to flee abroad, change their names, and destroy the old passports; they should have taken it a step further and faked their death like Dewey once did. Perhaps if they hadn’t been in such a hurry to disappear, they would have considered that.    

Ernest should have been on the third floor, presumably; Frank, of course, was not his brother’s keeper. He ought to find him so that they would open the envelope together: after all, the letter was addressed to both of them. On the other hand, there was no telling what was in that envelope. What if it contained something poisonous? As fantastic as such guess would have seemed to a third party, it was more than realistic. Indeed, he definitely should start by reading the letter by himself to be on the safe side – solely to protect his brother from potential danger.      

Frank tore the envelope open.

Dear Sirs,

I am fully aware that by sending you this letter, I am breaking the promise I gave you at our last meeting when I contacted you for the purpose of gathering information for my latest book and my search for the people I was not indifferent to. Back then I promised not to bother you anymore and not to look for you, and I am sorry for not being as good as my word. Still, I would like to ask you not to tear this letter up as soon as you realize who had written it, and to read it till the end. As you are going to learn, I have a reasonable excuse to disturb you. I also hasten to assure you that your current address shall remain secret and is presently known, apart from me, only to one person, which brings us to the reason why I am writing this letter.        

Dear Sirs, you have a niece. To be precise, we have a niece, since she is the daughter of my late sister and your late brother. For a long time, I was not completely sure of her existence, and I only met her four months ago. She contacted me to ask me for assistance in her search for the family that raised her and that she was separated from for a variety of reasons. Yet in the process of looking for that family, which we are presently engaged in, she also developed a wish to learn more about her biological family or, rather, whatever is left of it. I am writing to you at her request in the hope that you would satisfy her curiosity and her sincere wish to get to know you, and agree for a meeting.      

Her name is Beatrice. Like her namesake back in the day, she takes interest in training bats, which have been used to deliver the present message to you. Another one of her hobbies is photography, and her progress in it would have certainly pleased her fourth uncle if she had the possibility to meet him. She is a very intelligent and well-mannered young lady of ten years and a half. I am almost certain that you shall love her – naturally, if you give her a chance to meet you.    

If you agree for a meeting, please make it known by sending a letter or a fax to my legal representative whose contact information is provided below. If you do not agree, please still inform us about your decision so that our niece would not keep waiting for your answer in vain.  

I hope this letter finds both of you in good health.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket

Only having read the letter till the end Frank realized that he had been clutching it so tightly that the edges of paper got torn here and there.  

There was no one in the hall except for a couple of guests chatting enthusiastically on a couch in front of him. Nobody noticed the concierge leaving his workplace and disappearing in the staff room.  

“Shit,” Frank muttered after closing the door behind him, and leaned against the wall wearily.

It might have been easier if the envelope actually contained something poisonous.

They had a niece. But what if it was a trap, a bait, an attempt of VFD to bring back valuable assets? What if the letter was not from Lemony Snicket at all – or what if it was from him, but there was still no niece whatsoever? The last time they met, Snicket was an outcast, officially recognized as an enemy of VFD for disclosing so many of its secrets to the general public – but what if the organization took him back for one reason or another, and tasked him with atoning for his guilt by bringing home a couple more wayward sons? However, that would hardly be the case: at the time of their last meeting, Frank fell under the impression that Snicket would rather die than take part in the VFD affairs again. But how would an impostor know that Snicket met him and Ernest as part of his investigation? Frank hadn’t read any of Snicket’s books and wasn’t planning to, but Snicket had promised not to say a word about what happened to them after the fire at the Hotel Denouement, not even to specify whether they both survived.            

And then there was another possibility: they really had a niece. In all honesty, that possibility scared Frank the most.  

He had to show that letter to Ernest. To discuss what they should do next, and then send a message stating their decision by fax to a number provided in the letter and belonging to some D. H., as it was too risky to use the post and they had no trained bats or crows at their disposal. And all that had to be done as soon as possible.

Frank put the letter back into the envelope, folded it in four, put it into the pocket of his vest, and tried to forget about its existence. He almost threw the letter away, but something stopped him.  

***

A week later in the same hall, the maid (another one, not Miss Blumenfeld that time) called Frank to the phone: some gentleman wished to speak to him or his brother.  

“Hello,” Frank said warily, pressing the handset to his ear. “Basil Epilogue, how can I help you?”

“Listen, you don’t have to meet me,” Snicket began without preamble. “Ramona could meet you upon arrival, or I could simply give you the address and then you’ll get there by yourself.”

Frank felt anxiety cover him whole like a hunter’s net.

“A polite person starts a conversation with a greeting,” he replied surly. Thoughts went rushing in his head: what should he do? Where shall the thread of this talk lead him? Wouldn’t it be better to hang up, as pathetic as that may look – but then again, what would stop Snicket from calling him again?

“Good afternoon, Frank. Based on your reaction I conclude that you have received my letter and, just as befits grown-up mature people, decided simply to pretend that nothing had happened.”

For a split second, anxiety gave way to annoyance: damned Snicket. Damned snarky Kit’s little brother who always thinks himself the smartest in the room. Soon, both of them shall be on the wrong side of fifty, but that still remained his main impression of the youngest Snicket. Their entire family had always been nothing but trouble; it was only Jacques that… well, that didn’t matter. That had long since ceased to matter.      

Frank glanced over the hall, checking if anybody was eavesdropping.

“Yes, we received the letter. Are you happy?” It was easier to speak on behalf of both of them. That way he wasn’t the only guilty party. Frank hoped Ernest won’t find out about it. “Why would we believe at once that everything it said is true? Fine, let us say now I know that it was really you who sent it, but how can I be sure you’re not lying? Because I, personally, have no idea what’s on your mind and what objectives you are pursuing.”

“I could send you her photograph. Perhaps I should have done that from the very beginning. And enclose a letter written by her – maybe that would have persuaded you.”

Frank fell silent, not knowing what to say. Something immediately made him realize that to crumple the letter written by the girl herself and the photo of her, and to put them out of sight would have been much more difficult.    

“Please do not think me insolent when I say that I can see how you feel,” Snicket said unexpectedly. “When she tracked me down, I kept hesitating to meet her for a long time. I kept running from the past, and she was linked to it too closely in every respect, from her origin to her name. Besides, I was scared of having to assume responsibility for someone, for I am usually bad at this. I acted like an utmost coward, to be perfectly blunt.”

“What an ornate way to call me a coward.”

“Oh, I never said that. Unless I could have… guessed, accidentally.”

Damned snarky Kit’s little brother.  

“Give me one good reason not to hang up on you right now,” Frank said coldly.

There was some sort of rustle on the other end of the line.

“Uncle, may I?” someone asked in a thin voice, quietly but insistently. “Let me try.”  

Frank froze.

“Mr. Denouement? Hello,” spoke the same voice, only louder and clearer. “Can you hear me?”

He could hang up, of course. But that would have been even more difficult than to crumple the photo of his own niece and never look at it again.

“Yes, I can,” Frank told her. He had a feeling his voice sounded chokingly, so he repeated, “I can hear you.”  

“Hello! My name is Beatrice, Uncle Lemony wrote you about me. I should have written you myself, probably, but back when I was writing to him, he didn’t believe at first that was really me, so we decided that you might be more likely to trust him. Are you all right?”

“Um… yes,” Frank felt out of his depth. He ignored this girl’s attempt to make acquaintance with him, and she wanted to know if he was all right. “Everything’s fine.”  

“Great! I’m not distracting you from your work, am I? I would love to talk to you, but I guess you must be busy over there.”

Frank glanced at a short queue that had formed by his desk. The queue was headed by a fat moustachioed man whose facial expression indicated that he must be mentally preparing to raise a stink and complain about service.    

“Write down the number,” he said, and quickly dictated the number of the phone installed in the rooms belonging to him and Ernest – a luxury available to few employees of that hotel. “Call me back in ten minutes. By then we’ll be able to talk without haste.”  

***

Needless to say, everything went awry. Surprisingly, the fat moustachioed man kept his composure, though his voice was most disapproving, but when it came to the old lady at the rear of the queue, she threw a fit while trying to convince Frank that the porter stole one of her hatboxes. In the end, the missing box was discovered by the hotel entrance; the porter must have saddled himself with too many bags and bundles at the same time and hadn’t noticed dropping one of them. By the time Frank had dealt with all that, ten minutes, and even fifteen minutes, had long passed.      

There was no knowing what the hotel guests thought on seeing the concierge, a man of quite considerable age, running headlong down the corridor. Admittedly, Frank didn’t care. A couple of phrases he had exchanged with Beatrice made it impossible to go on burying his head in the sand. He still wasn’t sure that he wanted this meeting to happen, that he was ready for all the emotions it would inevitable cause, but he could see that he would fall in his own esteem beyond measure if he at least doesn’t finish what has been started and doesn’t talk to her.  

He darted into the room and stopped dead at the doorstep – Ernest, seated at the edge of the table, was on the phone.

“All right, honey. Yes, we’ll try to manage it as soon as possible. Yes, I see. Be careful. And give my best regards to the Duchess of Winnipeg! See you then.”

Frank rushed to him but didn’t manage to stop him: Ernest had already put the phone down. Then he straightened his back and looked at his brother defiantly, as if flaunting what he had just done. Frank stopped.  

“That phone call was meant for me,” he said icily.

“That letter was meant for the both of us,” retorted Ernest in the same spirit. “Now can I finally read it? Better late than never, and so on and so forth?”  

“You told…”

“Calm down, she thinks I was put in the picture. And no, I didn’t introduce myself by your name. Now, the letter,” Ernest held out his hand pointedly, waiting for an envelope to be put into it.

Frank went to his bedroom, unlocked the drawer, took out the letter, and locked the drawer again. Having returned to the living room (if such a cramped and unadorned room could be called so, of course; even the best employees of the hotel had very mediocre personal premises), he passed the envelope to his brother. He put the letter in the pocket of his vest.  

“I thought you wanted to read it immediately,” Frank observed.

“Oh, I can imagine what it says, more or less. The conversation with our niece opened my eyes to everything,” his brother assured him, with a sort of grim merriment in his voice. “I’m going to read this letter just for the sake of it. Got the message despite my own brother doing his best to hide it from me – all done, moving forward.”

He fell silent at that and turned away. Frank crossed his arms on his chest. Seemed like the moment was approaching for him to apologize; he disliked such moments.

“I shouldn’t have acted like that,” he said finally. Ernest shrugged without turning to him.

“Well, this time it was you who did the dirty work, not me,” he said. “Must be healthy sometimes.”

“The dirty work?”

“Panicked, showed the white feather, messed up. The dirty work,” Ernest repeated. He turned to his brother, his arms also crossed, and Frank put his own arms down on instinct; the body itself seemed to resist being turned into the mirror image of his brother. The three of them used to be brothers from a fairytale – three brothers, three bears, three Norns, three Christmas ghosts. The two of them used to play certain roles for too long – the embodiment of the false dichotomy of good and evil, the noble volunteer and his wicked doppelgänger; the roles they wanted to have nothing in common with anymore yet still assumed from time to time automatically, by force of habit. That complicated their interaction, which has never gone smoothly to begin with. “One of us had to do that, so that the other could be indignant later. Thanks for letting me feel like a good guy for a change, brother.”    

“The harpoon gun,” Frank spoke in a low voice.

“What?”

“The harpoon gun. You weren’t the one to give it to that girl,” he clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles went white. “You weren’t the one to enable what happened.”

The vexation in his wicked doppelgänger’s eyes gave way to something else. To sorrow. To pity, dang it.  

“I think we’ve talked about this more than once,” Ernest said softly. “Sure, it wasn’t me who gave her that gun, but I also took part in all that, and couldn’t prevent anything. And our niece,” he waved his hand at Frank, gesturing to him to keep silent, before he managed to utter a single word, “knows it, since she has read Snicket’s scribbles. And she still wants to meet us.”

She knew what they had done – or, more exactly, what they hadn’t done. She knew, and she still found them. Still spoke to them politely on the phone, and still wanted to see them.  

They had a strange family, without a doubt.

It took quite a long time for Frank, who didn’t know what to say and simultaneously wanted to say too much, to pick the right words.    

“What do you suggest?” he simply asked in the end.

“To take a vacation. As soon as we can. To say that our aunt has died, or something.”

“We have no aunt.”

“We don’t, but Henry and Basil Epilogue most certainly do. For now. Guess the poor old lady won’t last long.”

Their eyes met, and Frank smiled slightly against his will; for the first time in a long period, not just because serving the guests required a smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ernest said. “I’m starting to suspect you want to hug me.”

“Don’t even hope. I was just thinking about the vacation,” Frank squared his shoulders. “I have an idea where to travel to.”

“What a coincidence,” Ernest grinned. His face lost all softness and sorrow, as if they were never there in the first place. The three of them used to be brothers from a fairytale – once. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was no fairytale, but one could work with that too, if anything. “I also have an idea.”

They had a strange family, without a doubt.

He was curious to find out if their new relative had inherited that strangeness.

_____________________________________________________________

Some notes:

The title and the epigraph are from a song of the same name by Gogol Bordello. I do not know if Frank and Ernest's names are supposed to be just a pun on "frank" and "earnest" or also a reference to The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde that uses the same pun with "earnest", but Frank and Ernest's new names are borrowed from Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. As to their surname, the epilogue follows after the denouement (I guess).

[nalu-week]

How Long Until We Rest? (On the Road)

They stopped at the top of the dune to let their galloping hearts steady back to a walk. Dusty brown cloaks fashioned from torn cloth whipped around their ankles in the firm gusts that threatened to tear back the hoods, held in place only by some of her old hair clips, repurposed for the wasteland. Two sets of eyes - copper and onyx in colour - peered over the horizon from underneath hoods and above bandanas. 

Magnolia had changed drastically in the two years they’d been gone. Where once a lively hub of diversified industries stood loud and proud, a desolate city had taken its place. Sand wafted into every nook and crevice as the desert slowly swallowed Magnolia whole, drying up the air and causing the once glorious lake to shrivel and evaporate. Skyscrapers crumbling one beam at a time, and buildings long since abandoned, pillaged and abandoned again were all that remained behind to claim the city’s former significance. The pride of being a citizen of Magnolia was gone, replaced with a lasting sadness upon seeing what had become of the place. 

With a nod his way, she began the descent down the mountain of sand, and he followed. Each move was careful and slow, both of them vary wary of the unstable footing where one wrong step could send them tumbling in a violent race to the finish. Blades of heat and whips of wind tortured them without reprieve. When they reached the bottom, the trek continued another mile into the ruins. 

The city was devoid of warmth, but only in the metaphorical sense. Punitive sun rays beat down on them harder and harsher with every step they took. Walking became staggering and breathing became wheezing as the severe conditions of their journey finally took their toll. The water bottles in their packs were tempting, but they both wanted to find shelter first. 

Door after door, they turned away disappointed. Some were locked, some were broken, and some were inaccessible altogether. A half an hour into their exploration of Magnolia’s bones, they finally came across an open apartment complex. Upon further inspection, the individual apartments themselves were also locked, but the lobby was clear and the second floor had been spared from most sand waves. It was no homely cabin, but it was safety. 

She stripped off her coat right away, letting it drop to the floor. Running her hands through her hair, her fingers caught in the scraggly knots that neglect had woven into the once golden locks. Grains of sand felt rough against her skin and the desire for a shower was overwhelming. When was the last time they had a chance to bathe? Three, four months ago? She doubted that a dip in the freezing cold river they took last week counted. 

Giving her neck and shoulders one last stretch, she searched for her companion and found him already cross-legged on the ground, gulping down their very limited supply of water. 

‘Natsu! Small sips!’

He whined at her as she snatched the bottle away and redid the top, ‘I’m thirsty, Lucy. We’ve been walking for hours.’

‘I know,’ Lucy sighed, sympathy showing in the tired crease of her eyes. ‘But we have to conserve the water until we can find another source.’ Hesitating, she tightened her grip on the bottle. ‘How much further now?’

Natsu tore down his bandana and pulled off his own cloak, revealing the wild, cherry blossom hair that got them in trouble wherever they went. It was hard to hide when one of you stuck out like a sore thumb. Thinking hard, he ruffled one hand around in his hair while the other found a comfortable place against his waist, and his bottom lip flopped over in the way that Lucy found endearing, though she would never admit it to him. His ego was inflated enough as it was. 

‘Outskirts of Magnolia, to the west,’ Natsu frowned. ‘I think.’

Grimacing, Lucy peeked out the nearest window whose glass had miraculously survived the demise of the city. A dust storm stirred outside. ‘We entered from the south, so we’ll need to work our way west if we wanna find them. But we should probably find some supplies first.’

A bark of laughter made her turn. Natsu leaned back until his head bumped the wall, and then he extended his legs like he was making himself comfortable. 

‘You saw the city, Lucy,’ he said. ‘There are no supplies. Everything is gone, and anything that’s left is garbage.’

Lucy scowled, unimpressed with his pessimism, ‘We found some in Hargeon.’

‘Luck,’ Natsu dismissed easily. Shutting his eyes, he settled into a position to sleep, ‘And we’re out of ours.’ 

Twirling around her bandana into a twisted strip of cloth, Lucy used one of the ends to whip her companion on the upper arm. Natsu yelped, hand jumping to his assaulted skin. As he rubbed the spot that was slowly taking on a red hue, he glared at Lucy, a stiff look forming a glaze over his pupils. 

‘What was that for?’ he demanded. 

Instead of answering, Lucy tossed her bandana into his lap, ‘I’m going to check out the second floor. It’s probably less sandy than down here. You’re free to join me whenever you like.’

And then she left. With a flip of her hair and a roll of her hips, she sauntered up the stairs, forgetting to check whether or not the structure still held. Fortunately for her pride, the stairs were still plenty strong enough to support her weight and she made it to the second floor without so much as stumbling on a step. A sigh of relief escaped her when she was sure Natsu was no longer within hearing range.

‘Idiot.’

The landing of the second floor was stable, which couldn’t be said for many of the buildings they’d previously explored. Grit coated the wooden floorboards in a thin layer. Four austere doors marked the entrances to four apartments that mirrored the layout of the floor below, only upstairs had a large glass window where the front door would’ve been. Masking tape had been plastered in a cross over the glass, holding it from being blown in by the frequent storms. 

‘Seems like someone camped out here after shit hit the fan,’ Lucy muttered to herself, rapping her knuckles against the window. The thick glass held firm. 

Taking one of the pins from her hair, Lucy expertly fashioned it into a makeshift lockpick. One by one, she tested the doors. The first and second she tried, the lock wouldn’t give in to the hairpin. With each try, frustration welled up in the pit inside her chest. Surely if the doors were still locked, then the inside must not have been looted yet; there must be tons of supplies leftover. As the pin slipped yet again, Lucy let out a growl.

She gave up, moving on to door number three and hoping for better luck. Inserting the pin, Lucy felt it move into the lock further than her last attempt. Inside her chest, hope soared, anticipation building a steady ladder for her heart to climb up into her throat where it stuck in expectation. With a twist, the door gave, swinging open.

Lucy cheered, ‘Yes!’

Wary of traps, she peeked inside. Darkness waved its ghostly hello from the unseen corners of the main room. The restricted light from the lobby illuminated a rather cramped living space of an overly plush couch and a TV that definitely didn’t work, and touched the base of some counters and a fridge in what Lucy assumed was the kitchen. Colours were hard to make out, the limited light shading everything in hues of blacks, blues and greys.  

Lucy stepped inside, careful not to make a sound. Perhaps she was being a bit too vigilant for a building that had presumably been abandoned for about two years, but the times had taught them caution. Nimble practised footsteps left not even an echo. The living space had nothing left behind except for the furniture that was of no use to travellers. Similarly, the kitchen surfaces seemed bare. 

Traipsing closer along the line of light and darkness, Lucy fumbled around her belt for her handheld flashlight. She knew the batteries were getting dangerously low and they didn’t have any spares. Clicking the button at the base of the flashlight, she aimed the beam of luminescence around the kitchen space where the harsh artificial light declared the presence of cream coloured counters and a stainless steel sink. The fridge was white and - as Lucy quickly discovered - empty. 

Cupboard after cupboard yielded fruitless results. A spatula and a few spoons in the top draw, empty plastic containers in the pantry, some plastic plates that bore the scars of too much metal cutlery in an overhead cabinet. It was as they’d feared; the place had already been ransacked. 

Lucy’s frustration climbed side-by-side with her desperation. Flinging cupboard doors open and tossing aside useless items didn’t increase the chance of finding something of value but, by the gods, Lucy tried. And when the kitchen proved barren, she stalked the nearest door to continue the search.

Wrenching open the door, Lucy came to face herself. Her reflection, more precisely. A modest, tucked away bathroom had hung a large, dust-coated mirror directly opposite the door, above the sink. The vision the greeted Lucy was ominous and downright disturbing.

Two years of a never-ending journey had planted the roots of crazy in her eyes, and now they were starting to sprout, forcing her eyes open wide to allow the hysterical look access. Brown had thinned and paled, leaving her pupils devoid of the deep cocoa colour that had once attracted the attention of many men and women. Despair lurked behind closed lids. 

Desperate and sombre, Lucy felt around for her hair tie, feeling the dry nature of her locks as she pulled them loose. It was a weak attempt, but it was her only one. Fingers were by no means a substitute for a brush, but she pulled them through her hair and detangled knots one-by-one, watching her expression meticulously in the mirror. The crazed manner deteriorated but the gloomy clouds behind her eyes remained. It stayed that way as Lucy continued her laborious task of straightening out the long hair that had grown wily in the two years it went without attendance. 

Lucy didn’t have a watch, but her internal clock told her it had been twenty minutes by the time she deemed the unknotted state of her hair as passable. Stretching the hair tie a few times between her fingers, she bunched her hair and twirled it around and around. Eventually, she wrangled most of the strands into a ball, and yanked the hair tie over it, Lucy pulled it together in the neatest bun the apocalypse could provide. She smiled wryly. 

Turning around a bit, Lucy admired her reflection. Admittedly, she pulled off the “girl on the run from the end of the world” look without a flaw. A long-sleeved black shirt covered with a slack red tee fought off both sun and windburn on their travels. Along her left cheek, a bandaid was peeling, threatening to reveal the deep scratch a rogue fox had given her three days prior. Her eyes, though, retained that hollow, frantic countenance, the brown melting into wet puddles of flesh stained with swirls of red-

Slam. 

The sink rattled, coming slightly loose from the wall as Lucy continued to apply pressure. It was simple: the more she pushed her hands down, the less they were able to shake. Unfortunately, the same didn’t go for the rest of her body. As though each limb was independent of itself, Lucy’s arms and legs shook, warning her of just how frail these alarming trains of thought were making her. Lucy doubted there was any running water to splash her face with, so in lieu, she settled for slapping her cheeks a few times and marching right out of the apartment, shoving the switched off flashlight into her pocket as she went. 

Sometime during her futile escapade, Natsu had seen fit to relocate to the second-floor landing with all their gear and set up a temporary base of sorts. Natsu himself was sitting with his legs spread out in front of him and his back against the wall, one of their packs acting as a mediocre cushion as he settled in for some well-deserved rest. Laid out beneath him was his cloak, covering the sand that was scattered everywhere. 

Dressed down in a green muscle tee and jeans that didn’t begin their journey ripped, the only remnants of their old life that Natsu had held onto was the windowpane patterned scarf from his father. It lay over his chest under his folded arms in a protective cross. Against all the odds, Natsu had dragged the accessory across the country and kept in a relatively good condition. He really was something else. 

Despite herself, Lucy smiled. The situation was as hopeless as ever, but somehow, with him by her side, wandering the road didn’t seem so bad. For two years now they had protected each other, fought for one another, and survived together, being separated only once in what Lucy assuredly called the most terrifying three weeks of her life. She didn’t know what Natsu had done during that time. Although the sheer desperation and fiery enmity with which he tore through her captors gave her some indication of how he got by without her. 

‘You just gonna stand there?’

Lucy balked, shaken from her reprieve with an almost physical like force. His voice rattled through her, playing on her ribs like a set of drums and using her heart as a cymbal. The reverberations pulsated from deep inside her chest, and not for the first time, Lucy wondered how it was exactly he could move her that way.

‘No,’ she stuttered.

Still yet to open his eyes, a sideways smirk wormed its way across Natsu’s face as he waited on her, but he didn’t say anything more as she approached. Lucy dropped in between Natsu’s outstretched arms like a puppeteer had snapped her strings, making room for herself against his chest. A switch flipped and the moment she sat down, his arms came up to encircle around her stomach, light enough to allow her movement but firm enough to lock her in place - to keep her next to him. 

An enveloping warmth radiated from Natsu. It was something Lucy craved, this feeling like she’d just eaten a hot bowl of soup, and the sensation as it travelled down her throat into her stomach. She could feel the path of warmth. It was different from the arid desert where everything was hot, hot, hot. This warmth, Lucy craved like nothing else. 

Although later on, she would kick and scream about how they should’ve known better, deep down Lucy didn’t regret falling asleep in his arms. Companionship was hard to come by, and trust even harder. If letting their defences down for a few hours while they relished the time in each other’s presence was what it took to feel safe in a world where that very word was taboo, Lucy would do so with a giddy smile and a light heart. 

Even if the grip of insanity lurked just beyond the realm of her pistol, reaching out its slimy hand for her to take without realising. Each day walking a little more diagonally into the line where sanity madness crisscrossed, wandering across the border she lost the ability to tell which hand belonged to her trustworthy companion and which belonged to the darkness. It was a scary world outside and an even scarier one inside. 

How long had she been going crazy, if that’s what this was? Should she tell Natsu? If she did, would he stay with her? 

Dry sand crunched underfoot, loud in the face of silence. Swaddled in cloaks that flapped in the wind and bandanas high up on their faces, Lucy and Natsu assumed the appearance of drabs ghosts as they marched north-west through Magnolia. It was the middle of the afternoon when they packed up their temporary camp, and they still had a long way to go.

Natsu made a grunting sound, barely loud enough for Lucy to hear, ‘Remember that café? They served the best pies in Magnolia.’

‘I lived for their frappés,’ said Lucy. The memories of her preferred half-strength caramel frappé topped with extra whipped cream tickled her parched throat. Keening faintly, Lucy pouted behind her bandana, ‘What I wouldn’t give for one now.’

What was left of the coffee shop was a sturdy frame of a building and rotting booth seats. An old lively sign had been scratched and abused by the sandstorms, whipped so cleanly of its coats of paint that the words were illegible. Some splashes of blue and yellow remained as a reminder to what once claimed the land here. 

The café stood to collapse little-by-little in between the debris of an old tech shop and a karaoke bar Lucy used to frequent after stopping in for a coffee with her girls. Across the road, the scaffolding of an incomplete office building had somehow survived the worst nature had to throw at it, ladders, pipes, cement blocks and even a towering orange crane left to the wasteland. 

Taking her hand, Natsu steered the lamenting girl away from the café ruins. ‘Focus, Lucy,’ he said, stern but kind. ‘We got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.’

‘Yeah.’ Downcast, Lucy allowed herself to be tugged along. ‘Hey, Natsu. You ever think about just, stopping?’ 

Irony rearing its sinister head, Natsu stopped in his tracks. The words hanging onto the edge of her lips seared her skin. Heat pooled in the pit of her belly in an uneasy and nauseating way. There was a long, extended moment where Lucy worried he wouldn’t respond, but after holding her breath, he spoke in a sharp, no-nonsense tone that she knew meant he was serious. 

‘What do you mean?’

Lucy gnawed away at her bottom lip, already regretting speaking up, ‘What if we just gave up? The only lead we have on this safe place is the ramblings of a crazy guy. We could just find somewhere to hole up, you know? Wait until … it was all over. We would have each other.’

As Lucy feared, Natsu snapped around like a whip crack. There was a marathon in her chest the way her heart was sprinting. He dropped her hand like it was made of fire, unmanageable and untouchable, and faced her with an equal fire in his eyes. Rage sparked a bonfire in the depths of his dark eyes, flickering like embers and coals alight with a core of flames. As quick as the anger at her came, it was gone, remade into anger for her. 

Natsu ripped his bandana down. In his clenched fist, the red cloth appeared as fire bursting forth from his hand. His other hand came up to clamp around her shoulder in a death grip. Never before had Lucy felt so much like prey, staring down the hunter as it reached in for the final kill. 

‘So you wanna end this by dying, huh?’ Natsu’s voice scampered in pitch and ascended in volume. He gave her a shake, ‘Don’t run away!’ 

Wet, warmth dribbled down her cheek. She wondered when it was she’d started crying. ‘I’m so tired, Natsu. And scared. I don’t- I don’t think I can hold out. What if this safe place doesn’t exist? It’s all driving me,’ she hiccuped, ‘crazy. I think I am going crazy.’

Natsu scowled, ‘Then we keep going until we find a safe place. I’m not giving up on living, and I’m not letting you give either. We’ve gotten this far by sticking together, Lucy! We’ve come this far, and we can go further.’ The anger in his eyes and the bite in his voice dimmed, ‘Please don’t give up, Lucy. You’re the only reason I haven’t.’

Lucy ran her tongue over lips as dry as the desert and as cracked as the buildings around them, ‘What?’

Still holding onto her shoulders, Natsu’s head dipped, ‘Seeing you every day, and knowing that we were gonna get through this together - that’s the reason I haven’t given up yet. I-I understand; I do.’ 

Bottom lip trembling, Lucy held her breath in a desperate attempt to hold back the tears that were congesting her sinuses and accumulating as a thrashing headache. 

Natsu gestured to their immediate surroundings with the hand clenched around his bandana, ‘Everything’s gone to shit. We don’t know if we’ll find shelter before night. But, please, Lucy,’ with his eyes imploring, he got under her skin and rested there, ‘don’t give up on me. Make me your reason for living, like you’re mine. We can only do this together, Lucy.’

The tears streaming down her cheeks left tracks in the dirt inlaid there, marking out her weak-mindedness for all to see. But there was no all. There was only Natsu. In this twisted world that they strived to exist in, they only had each other to trust and rely on. That’s how it had been for two years now. Was she a fool to miss it? Or was she merely pulling Natsu along for the ride she was stuck on?

‘I-I don’t-’ 

‘Let me be your reason,’ Natsu whispered, hand inching up from her shoulder to cradle her cheek. ‘Lucy-’

Clang, clang, clang. Crack. Creeeaaak. 

Natsu stiffened, ‘What was that?’

The noise barely gave them a second of warning before the construction site across from the café came toppling down around them. Metal and concrete and brick rained from above. The weighty thunks sending alarming chills down Lucy’s spine as it dawned that if one should hit her, it would make a lot more of a squelch kind of sound as her body popped like a balloon. That was about the only thought Lucy was able to process before a raucous shout of ‘Watch out!’ accompanied by the force of being shoved to the ground hit her harder than a cement block could. 

Cold blood pumped through her veins, spurred on by a heart that beat slower, slower, slower, matching the speed of time that thickened and sluggishly moved on. Crashes that should’ve burst her eardrums sounded distant and hollow. The debris clattered around them, showering sand and dust in Lucy’s face and over her cloak. Shutting her eyes did little to alleviate the minuscule bullets of sand grains that pelted and pummeled every patch of exposed skin. 

Finally, it was over. Lucy unfurled herself from the ball she didn’t remember curling into. Removing her arms from their protective position over her head, she brushed the powder from her eyes and nose and listlessly blinked the scene into her awareness. She hadn’t felt so cold in the desert before. The blood in her veins was becoming heavy as it froze into ice, causing Lucy to shiver as sludge drifted about her body with a useless heart. She swore it wasn’t beating. 

‘Natsu?’ Lucy’s voice snapped in the middle, and she tried again. ‘Natsu?’ 

Standing on quivering legs, she took in the spectacle laid out in pandemonium before her. 

The bright orange crane has miraculously survived yet another disaster, hovering over the infrastructure of a building that had come tumbling down. Grumbles of badly positioned rubble bounced off the surrounding walls. Lucy looked down. Around her in a shape unidentifiable were remnants of construction and half-built blocks, each undoubtedly weighing more than double her own weight. Majority of the beams and heavy framework had landed where she was previously standing. Where she and Natsu were previously standing … 

Lucy called out louder, ‘Natsu? Where are you?���

‘Ngh … yo, Lucy. Under here.’

Head snapping, eyes darting, breath catching. The coughing fit that followed helped Lucy navigate the wreckage to a large, slender concrete slab with two jean-clad legs and an arm sticking out. A heated rush of relief flooded through Lucy’s systems. Stiff muscles unclenched themselves as warm blood quickened its pace to stir around the adrenalin that fired to life. 

‘Natsu, oh, holy shit,’ Lucy blubbered, dropping to her knees and almost tripping on her cloak. ‘Okay, okay. Fuck, fuck. Wh-wh-what do I do?’

From the top of the slab, a tousle of pink hair stuck out, giving the disembodied voice a body, ‘How about start by moving this shit? I can’t breathe.’

Panic and logic fought a losing battle in Lucy’s mind, but her smarts reigned long enough for her to pant out a quick, ‘Oh, yeah, right,’ and hurry into action. The slab was broad but not hefty, and the thinness made it simple work for Lucy to wrap her fingers around the edge and heave, flipping it up and off Natsu in one smooth motion. Breathing hard as she was, Lucy still found it in herself to look down and grin in triumph. 

And nearly puked on the poor boy.

Untold damage had been done by the concrete. Several ribs were probably busted and Natsu’s knee was definitely twisted the wrong way. However, the real issue was not the result of the slab itself, but from the five-foot-long and two-inch in diameter metal support beam jammed in his right shoulder. 

‘Na-yah,’ she trailed off as a swell of bile tainted the base of her throat and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Natsu grimaced, ‘Oh yeah, and there’s that.’

It was painfully obvious how strong he was trying to be for her. Veins thrummed along his forehead and neck, standing out in an intense display of stress and discipline. The force it took to keep down his cries and groans of agony brightened his face in shades of scarlet and glistened with beads of sweat that evaporated in the desert heat. But none of that compared to the fierce red weeping from the space between the beam and his skin. 

‘Fuck, Natsu,’ Lucy breathed out. ‘Bandages aren’t gonna fix this one.’

‘I know.’ Through gritted teeth, he managed to rasp, ‘We’re gonna have to think this one through, huh? Before we pull it out.’

‘Pull it-’

Lucy gagged again. She hadn’t quite got past the whole “there’s a pole in his arm” and hadn’t got to “I have to pull a pole out from his arm” yet. Slamming her lips into a thin line, she concentrated on keeping the limited food she’d had in her stomach where it belonged. 

A stern look crossed Natsu’s eyes, ‘Lucy, concentrate. We need something to stop the blood flow. If we just pull it out, I’m gonna bleed to death.’

‘I know, I know.’ Her words were drowning in swallowed tears. ‘I’m just so scared, Natsu. How-how are you not terrified?’ 

His smile could’ve rivalled a million suns and Lucy still wouldn’t be satisfied, always wanting more of the wicked warmth and light he radiated. ‘Because you’re with me.’ 

‘Over there!’

Locking eyes, Lucy felt cold realisation pass between them. Her breath stopped coming out in puffs as though the very act of not breathing would allow them to go undetected. How stupid were they to believe that the sudden collapse of the construction site was an accident? They were under attack. 

‘Wait here,’ Lucy hissed.

She didn’t let the ignorant statement linger in her thoughts to conflict with her racing state of mind. (Where could he possibly go?) Leaving Natsu to battle the pain alone, Lucy hurried over to the backpack she’d dropped, hunching over to make herself as small as possible so she was both harder to see and harder to hit. The backpack was where she left and she made quick work of plunging her hand inside to rummage around for the item she wanted. A click behind her said that her efforts to go unseen had been for naught. 

‘Where’s your friend, girlie?’ a throaty voice asked, grisly humour chasing circles around his words. ‘Where’d your boy go?’

Lucy’s answer came as a spin on her heel and the click of her own pistol. Instantly the muzzle was shoved in the face of a dark-skinned, dark natured man who snapped his teeth as if insinuating he would eat any bullet she fired his way. His hair was pulled to both sides in poofy bunches. In one hand he was positioned a little too trigger happy over a sawed-off shotgun, and in the other, he lightly held the grip of a large kanabō. The latter seemed more equipped for intimidation than practicality. 

He tutted her like a child being scolded for playing with a knife, ‘That ain’t friendly. How ‘bout you put that down and have a little chat, hey?’

‘Does that chat involve the death and or maiming of me or my partner?’

‘Well, that depends on whether you hand over your stuff without a fight.’

Lucy narrowed her eyes, ‘You’re disgusting.’

The bandit spread the arm holding the kanabō as if gesturing to an extravagant show, ‘That’s the lot of the draw, girlie. It’s the end of the world out here, so you gotta kill or you’ll be killed.’

‘So out of the wolf and the sheep, you chose to be the wolf.’

‘The wolf eats. The sheep are fed.’

Keep talking, keep talking, keep talking. Why? She wasn’t sure what good it would do. Increase Natsu’s chance at a getaway? No, Natsu wasn’t going anywhere pinned to the ground like that. She had to get them out of this somehow, somehow, somehow. 

Leaning in, a shit-eating sneer appeared on the bandit’s face, ‘You’re surrounded. Keep me blabbing all you want. Right now, ten more of me are searching for you and your boy, and we ain’t leaving without your goodies.’ 

Alarm bells screamed. A shrill voice in the back of her head screamed to run back to Natsu. He was defenceless, fixed to the ground by an enormous support beam and bleeding out even as they danced in a back and forth of linguistics. She had to end this. She had to protect him. 

Lucy ground her teeth to hide the shaking of her jaw, ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Thibault!’

A second bandit stumbled out from around a pile of debris, tripping over a block in his haste and falling flat on his face. Lucy was still too terrified to laugh. After a careless recovery, he tottered over to where Lucy was being held at gunpoint. His frame was small and lean, but he carried practically no muscle. The indicated Thibault paid the short bandit no mind, training his sick grin on Lucy’s troubled gaze as he waved the sawed-off in circles around her face, leering in the face of her frightened discomfort. 

‘What is it?’

‘Thibault,’ the bandit huffed, bent double at the waist. ‘Four men have been taken out.’

‘What?’ 

Finally, Lucy was free from his attention. Thibault lowered the shotgun, turning on his accomplice with a demonic glower. 

The bandit cowered, ‘S-sir, someone has taken out four men. It’s not her travel companion - we found him passed out not far from here.’

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. Passed out? Shit. Natsu needed medical attention, and fast. She needed to finish things up with these bandits. She had to get back to him. If he died - 

‘Meddling fucks!’ Thibault bellowed. He moved away from Lucy who begun to inch backwards. ‘This is my territory, you hear? Go back to your fucking meadows, pieces of shit. Get out of-’

Thunk, thunk. 

Choking cut him off. Lucy watched in morbid fascination as the man dropped back on one leg in an attempt to stabilize himself, before all strength drained away from his limbs and he fell onto his back, shaking up the sand that settled on his corpse in a thin sheet. Two crudely crafted arrows jutted out, one striking the middle of his torso and the other stuck dead centre in his throat. Blood spluttered as air gushed from a windpipe never to be used again. 

The other bandit squealed, voice leaping octaves in a single bound. As quick as he’d come, he fled, but he didn’t make it far. Two more thunk thunk’s resounded as he was impaled in the back and went toppling to the ground without so much as a high pitched scream. 

Lucy didn’t dare move. To be caught in a turf war of two opposing bandit camps did not bode well for her and Natsu’s wellbeing. An entire minute, counted in shallow breaths, she waited to be approached by the remorseless archers, and her grip around the pistol tightened. 

There! 

From atop a mound of rock and rubble, two cloaked figures appeared. Bows fashioned from the same wood as the primitive arrows were held with poise in each other their hands, strings pulled back and at the ready. Averse to the makeshift, murky brown cloaks that Lucy and Natsu donned, these two figures had an air of dignity and grace around the inky black material that was cleaner and more refined around the edges. 

Determination let another round of adrenalin loose through her veins. Planting her right foot back, Lucy maintained a sturdy stance as she aimed her pistol at the figure on the right who was smaller but somehow more intimidating. Straight backed and with a self-assured posture, Lucy designated the figure the leader. 

This time she was ready. This time she would steer the encounter. This time she would protect Natsu. Let me be your reason, he had said. What a silly thing to say. With a low laugh, she realised he had always been her reason - her reason and her grounding force. Madness would never have her, so long as he was there. And he always was. It spurred on the fire in her blood and her mission to protect, protect, protect. 

At Lucy’s clear display of aggression, the two figures didn’t fire, but they didn’t lower their bows. 

‘Are there more of you?’ Lucy called, sounding braver than she felt. 

The taller figure glanced at his companion before replying, ‘There are six more of us.’

Inside her mind, her thoughts chased each other at a mile a minute. Eight altogether. With a single pistol and limited ammo, Lucy didn’t stand a chance against such a large enemy. Communication seemed the only viable option, and thankfully she considered herself a master wordsmith, so long as these people were open to a non-lethal conversation. 

Raising the pistol and her voice, ‘We don’t want any trouble. If you just let us go, you’ll never have to see us again. Let us walk away and both sides don’t have to suffer any losses.’

At the same time, as if on command, both figures lowered their bows, and Lucy cheered internally at the progress. She lessened her own hold on her gun. 

‘We’re just passing by and didn’t mean to get involved in any beef. We don’t have anything you can take, and my partner h-he,’ Lucy fumbled, ‘needs my help. So please, if you just let me go-’

‘Lucy!’

Whipping her head around, the pistol fell limp from Lucy’s numb fingers, ‘Natsu!’ 

Foolish it may have been to turn her back on armed, cloaked figures, all sense was thrown out the window as relief and euphoria took her under like a tidal wave. Natsu was just barely on his feet, shirtless and speckled with sand. His left arm was thrown around a man dressed in a cloak identical to Lucy’s two adversaries, but the hood was pushed back to reveal a dishevelled mane of pitch-black hair, dull silver piercing lining the contour of his face. The grouchy scowl on his face gave him the likeness of a grizzly bear. 

‘Natsu, what happened?’ Lucy demanded breathlessly. Her eyes drifted to his injury, gaze running over the thick white gauze that wrapped around a good part of his upper torso and his shoulder. It was stained red with blood but was clean and secure. ‘Who did that?’

‘Wendy, our field medic,’ said a voice from behind.

Soundlessly, the two figures had approached. Their bows slipped over their chests and their hoods tipped back, allowing Lucy to put a face to the voices. The man who had first called out to her was rocking the classic style of tall, dark and handsome, cool navy eyes piercing her soul like spears. The figure Lucy had deemed as the leader was a tough-looking woman with striking scarlet hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Both wore comfortable smiles, despite Lucy’s earlier violent outburst. 

‘Wendy?’ Lucy questioned. 

Grizzly Bear stuck his thumb back in the direction they’d come from, ‘She’s waiting with the others. Which reminds me, Erza, Juvia wanted me to remind you that it was supposed to be her turn to pair up with Gray.’

An exaggerated shiver ran down the cool man’s spine, and he looked behind him like he was the prey and there was a hunter lurking in the shadows, ‘Wh-why are you running her errands now?’

Grizzly Bear grinned, ‘Geehee. Because I get a kick outta that reaction.’

‘Noted,’ the woman said. ‘But we have other immediate matters to attend to.’

The conversation barely reached Lucy’s consciousness. Tender and tentative, she touched Natsu’s face, feeling the scrapes and cuts he’d taken to push her out of harms vicinity. He was here, and he was safe, and he was okay. 

‘You’re okay,’ she whispered. 

He nodded, ‘Yeah, that kid they got fixed me right up. She had me patched up before I even came to. I’m sorry I worried you.’ 

Hot tears spiked the corners of her eyes. It was too much. She was tired - so tired - of crying, and also tired in general. Heat beating, heart slowing, knees quaking; the immense pressure of a long, mentally and physically tiring day was taking its toll. All in one go, the adrenalin zipped out of her system and Lucy dropped like a sack of potatoes. 

‘Whoa!’ Natsu cried. His sluggish limbs barely moved to catch her in time, jolting his wound in the process which he hid with a silent wince. 

Grizzly Bear maneuvered to support both of them, struggling under their combined weight ‘Gray, come grab her!’

The tears ran down Lucy’s cheeks, retracing a frequented route. Worry, fear, madness, apathy, guilt, anger, terror; all the emotions of a single day sucker-punched her in the face, leaving her dizzy and weak. As Lucy cried, Natsu shushed her, rocking her in his arms as best he could. The man Grizzly Bear had called Gray stepped back, allowing them space. 

‘You’ve been through a lot,’ guessed the woman. Lucy turned from the safety of a warm embrace to face her. ‘I’m truly sorry for that. My name is Erza.��

‘I’m Natsu,’ Natsu said. ‘And this is Lucy.’

‘Nice to meet you. How long have you been here?’

‘Arrived in the city this morning. We’re looking for a safe place that an old guy told us was west of Magnolia.’

Gray and Grizzly Bear exchanged knowing looks over their heads. Readjusting her bowstring, Erza chuckled lightly into her palm. 

‘Luck has smiled upon you,’ she declared. ‘We come from a camp just where you describe. We are a group of about one hundred, from small children to some elderly. Perhaps it was us he referred to.’ 

‘Seriously? You have no idea how long we’ve been on the road for,’ Lucy said, exchanging a look with Natsu who grinned back, exhausted but thrilled. ‘We’ve travelled so far.’ 

Erza smiled, and for the first time in two years, Lucy and Natsu felt the genuine waves of someone compassionate wash over them. ‘Well, no more. There’s more than enough of everything to go around at camp. Welcome to Fairy Tail.’

READ MORE FROM ME THIS WEEK AT: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291945/chapters/45883369