#was I leveled two pair up to like. level twelve. AND I had the spare trousers joker

[waitineedaname]

my favorite way to play deckbuilding roguelikes is to find the most broken way to play it and then exploit that as much as possible. with inscryption it was what i lovingly refer to as the ant farm, and so far in balatro my technique has been leveling two pair as much as possible + doing crazy things to my face cards. I just got 333,000 chips in one hand so I think it's working pretty well

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Fic: A Nostalgic View

Feet dangling in the air from several stories above the metropolis, Silya felt remarkably calm. Though the sky was empty, the vast cityscape glistened beneath her like stars reflected on a wide lake. The open-aired, underground mall was directly under her, and Townsville Hall beyond that. Past the historic building was the Great Machine and a small patch of woods cutting the area off from the nearby outskirts. She couldn't see it, but she knew that further on still stood Charles Darwin Middle School, the Endsville nuclear plant, the Treehouse in Sector V... She wasn't a city-girl, but there was something about this view that felt like home.

Finding a truly quiet, isolated place anywhere within the City was a miracle. The young woman sat on a closed section of the Slider's track. It had been left untouched practically since the very start of the war, with maintenance efforts instead constantly focused on the main rails that ran all the way from Marquee Row to Peach Creek. Fusion Fighters regularly used these types of unmanned paths as short cuts, but this one saw very little traffic so far out from City Station. It was the perfect place for her to rest unbothered.

Well, she wasn't completely to herself. A light on her belt brightened as one of her nanos flew out of their chip to hover beside her. Golden pigtails fluttered in the wind while a pair of big, blue eyes stared at Silya innocently, "Is something wrong?"

"No, Plum, I'm fine," she shook her head at her Dee Dee nano. "I'm just feeling a little... reflective, that's all."

"About what?" The tiny doppelganger of her boss' sister floated down to rest her head on the young woman's thigh. Sometimes, she could be every bit as nosy as the real Dee Dee was, but in this case, Silya didn't mind.

"Just that I think I've grown up some," she answered.

It was hard for her to think of how far she'd come, both figuratively and literally. To have come from her small hometown of Farmville to then work as a research participant in Tech Square. To go from a child practically forbidden from leaving her own backyard to fighting fusion monsters across the world. She remembered wanting to be in the KND and living too far away to even talk to any sector, let alone join one. She remembered the Broccoloid invasion and that she'd been forced to stay inside the house, only to find out nearly every kid for miles had fought them off alongside the Powerpuff Girls. She remembered a time when her best friends were her toys and the cartoon characters she watched on TV. It was hard to call her that same little girl anymore.

"In what way...?" asked a harsh voice in a disbelieving tone just as a second stream of light—this time red—entered Silya's vision.

Ghost was her Hex nano, appropriately named for how often he tended to ghost out on the team at the worst of times. Not unlike some of her other teammates, however, he seemed to enjoy making an appearance when it meant getting the change to make a dig at her. A third, blue light would follow after him as Bola, her Coco nano, also zipped into view.

"If you think you've matured, I dread to know what you were like as a child!" the small, skull-painted face mouthed at her.

"Coco!" added the bird-like creature, flying alongside her head to pointedly level a wing above her scalp.

"Last week, you and Dexter went to pick up spare parts and got confused for twelve-year-olds." Plum was quick to add.

"I get it..."

"You were wearing a Chiisai Baani Baani t-shirt and that Sassy Cat jacket."

"I get it! Thank you, guys!"

Plum and Bola started laughing, the latter flopping over Silya's head as she fought to catch her breath. Silya just pouted. It was no small secret that she and Dex were two of the shortest and more baby-faced members of the staff at Dexlabs. New faces at the company always made a guessing game of their real ages. It was an issue only made more prominent when their more childish interests showed on the surface. Dexter was still a big fan of the Justice Friends and had a collection of action figures. Silya still liked cartoons and playing on the swings at the park.

So... maybe a few things hadn't changed.

Despite the teasing, a soft smile eventually found its way back onto her lips.

A loud shout immediately followed by an alarm broke the quiet. Looking down, the group noticed a large commotion near the mall, where a swarm of fusion monsters seemed to be trying to break in. An almost equally large unit of fusion fighters rushed to face them and the sounds of shatterguns pierced the night.

Silya quickly stood up and typed a command into her nanocom, a weapon manifesting into her hands. With a nod over to Ghost, she silently ordered him to use his magic to summon a strong wind. He groaned, but ultimately complied. The air beneath her grew almost ferocious and she jumped, trusting her nanos to help her descent. The time for reminiscing was over. The time for action was now.

((Didn't really have much in-mind for this oneshot, tbh. I just saw where the 20th Anniversary to CN City had passed this year and felt a little reminiscent about it. It wasn't the first era I was a part of growing up with the network, but it was one of the two that stuck with me the most. Combine that with me briefly dipping back into the game to check NPC locations/animations, and nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks. As upset as I am with where CN is today as a company, there's no denying the impact it had on me growing up. And, hey! More nano nickname drops! :D))

[panharmonium]

this is legitimately one of my top five favorite kakashi scenes.

i love seeing kakashi break the rules in the name of doing the right thing, and this scene especially is particularly satisfying to me, because his moment of defiance here is, to my mind, long overdue.  

one of my eternal frustrations in early naruto is how the leaf village administration gives kakashi the job of caring for a group of super high-needs children and then continually makes that job as difficult for him as possible.  they task him with being solely responsible for the development and well-being of three twelve year-olds - a group that includes naruto (a walking disaster with a god’s power trapped inside his body) and sasuke (a genocide survivor fixated on killing his own brother), BOTH of whom are being hunted by different groups of supercriminals - and then the village keeps getting in kakashi’s way or dropping the ball or actively ordering him to prioritize other things.  

so much of what goes wrong with the kids in this period is the result of other people interfering with kakashi’s work or being negligent or endangering the kids/putting kakashi in impossible positions.  team 7’s first big mission sets the tone for everything that comes after, with someone else’s lie putting kakashi in a situation where he has to single-handedly protect not just the client who deceived him, but the three children who were supposed to be the clients’ other protectors.  and after that, the list just multiplies:

ten anbu operatives can’t manage to protect sasuke’s hospital room from orochimaru’s minions, so kakashi has to do it himself and then whisk sasuke out of the village for a month, leaving naruto in the hands of a substitute and sakura with her parents

genma orders sasuke to chase after gaara when the chunin exams blow up, saying “you’re at chunin level already,” which forces kakashi to immediately dispatch more kids to bring him back, because “ffs NO i do NOT want him out there doing that why the fuck would you tell him to do that?!” 

aoba runs his mouth off about itachi when sasuke is standing RIGHT THERE, instantly undoing all the work kakashi just did to prevent itachi and sasuke from coming anywhere near each other (and thus sending sasuke to that disastrous first encounter, the outcome of which ultimately leads to sasuke’s defection)

jiraiya decides he should let sasuke try to fight itachi himself, “out of respect for the boy’s feelings,” leading to sasuke ending up in a tsukuyomi coma

tsunade orders kakashi to drop his teaching work and leave the village on a mission even though a) he’s just gotten out of his own torture-induced coma and b) sasuke is having a crisis that kakashi is trying to manage

and then when kakashi gets back from that mission and finds out that surprise, all of this meddling has led to a disaster, tsunade tries to order him away AGAIN

but this time - he just says no.

he walks right out of her office.  he turns his back on her.  and there is NOTHING i love more than seeing kakashi embody the philosophy that he’s chosen to adopt as his guiding light: those who break the rules are scum.  but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

it’s not that he doesn’t understand where tsunade is coming from here.  but he knows she’s wrong.  she’s making her decisions based solely on concerns about the Leaf Village being in a tight spot - feeling like they can’t turn down missions because they’ll appear weak and thus become vulnerable to attack when they’re already operating at half strength.  she sends a group of twelve year-olds to bring sasuke back because supposedly the village can’t spare anyone else, “even if it means letting the sharingan fall into orochimaru’s hands” - but like.  it’s not the sharingan.  it’s a child.  sasuke isn’t just a repository for his hereditary jutsu; he’s not a pair of eyes to be passed around from one wielder to the next.  he’s a human child.  

tsunade doesn’t know sasuke.  she’s new to the situation and doesn’t know enough about it to understand how serious it is.  i don’t even think she was still in the village when the uchiha massacre occurred; the timeline makes it sound like she left long before that.  she doesn’t really understand who sasuke is or how much trouble he’s in - she makes her decision because she feels like her first priority has to be the well-being of the Leaf as a whole, not the individual people who comprise it.  kakashi, though, who a) lives his life by a very different philosophy and b) does understand sasuke’s situation, would not have dealt with the issue like this, and if the village had let him do his job from the beginning, things wouldn’t have gotten to this point in the first place.

kakashi is horrified that tsunade sent a bunch of twelve year-olds out to fight orochimaru’s ninja, and i think he’s also probably angry and/or frustrated about having been ordered out of the village in the first place.  he was dealing with the situation before tsunade sent him away.  he interrupted the fight between sasuke and naruto even though he himself had literally just gotten out of the hospital, and then he continued addressing the issue with sasuke privately (unlike jiraiya’s non-attempt to address it with naruto, when he said he was going to give naruto a talking-to but actually flaked out).  kakashi knew sasuke was struggling, and he was doing all the things a teacher is supposed to do to address it, but then he was ordered away, and even though it was just for two days, it was enough time for everything to go to hell.

if people would just let him do his job - if the administration would let him focus on the task they themselves assigned to him - things would be different.  but everybody wants him to do everything.  they want him to be everywhere.  they want him to protect the nine-tails jinchuriki (who is also kakashi’s dead teacher’s son), and train the last surviving uchiha (which is a task only kakashi and his sharingan can perform), and give equal attention to a third kid, for good measure, and they want him to do it without stepping away from any of his other burdens, all while other people around him constantly frustrate the progress he makes.

so this time, when tsunade tries to send him away, he refuses.  he disobeys her orders and walks out of the room.  he doesn’t care about the rules or what he’s “legally” obligated to do.  he knows what the RIGHT thing to do is, and so he rejects his new mission in favor of rescuing the kids.

i love these moments.  i love when we’re shown so clearly the person kakashi has chosen to be - someone who does what’s right, not just what he’s told.  he made an active choice many years ago to adopt that philosophy, and he’s been living by those new rules ever since.  he's wiser now than he was when he was a child - sometimes you have to break ranks to do the right thing.  sometimes you have to buck the system, even if it means you might face severe personal consequences.

he had one of two choices: either save the mission or his comrades.  of course, according to the law of the village, you cannot abandon a mission.  but to save the life of his comrades, he put the mission on hold.

kakashi may have spent a good chunk of his childhood trying to reject everything the subject of that story stood for, but none of his attempts to harden his heart ever stuck.  he is, in the end, his father’s son.

[chemicalpink]

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Words: 4.7k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff if you squint really hard, childhood friends to lovers AU

Warnings: unprotected sex, bathroom sex, infidelity, JK is a heartthrob that is bad at feelings, YN realises she’s been in love with JK all along.

A/N: this is me trying to write longer fics, I liked how this one came out yayyy. This goes out to the @thebtswritersclub​ monthly prompt _____ to lovers, in this case it’s childhood friends to lovers. I just- I really liked how it came out, I’m so excited to know what you guys think of it.

Summary: Falling in love is such a curious thing in life, Jungkook would know best, after pinning over you for years on end, only to have his best friend take away his opportunity, or does he?

The sun was shining brightly over the park as you made your way down the slide, hot skin scorching at the contact with the yellow plastic, although you couldn’t bring yourself to care as much as your mother would, meeting Sungho at the end of it, who was covering his eyes as best as his arms would allow him to do, summer was almost coming to an end and you two had decided to spend every single second of it together, much to both of your mothers’ dismay who had long decided to take turns to tire both of you out by the neighbourhood park, nothing too exciting, if it weren’t for your young imaginative minds combined, which turned you into the closest a six year old could get to being a menace.

As you smiled brightly at your friend, you couldn’t help but turn your head towards an almost inaudible whimper coming from the shaded side of the park, finding a kid around your age plopped down by the tree, desperately drying his eyes with the back of his hand, small sobs coming out of his lips as three other kids, which you knew to be a little older than you and quite disrespectful at that, kept laughing at the boy, so really, what else were you supposed to do if not come in to save the day. “Come on Y/N they’ll make fun of us too” Sungho said as he tried to tug you away, only to have you stand your ground firmly

“If they make fun of me, I won’t cry” you crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest

“Y/N let’s just go”

“You go, Sungho” Sungho was always the type of kid that your mother kept reminding you to be more like, always righteous, never picking fights like you were known to do, but you really couldn’t stand watching the mysterious kid crying by himself while no one else did anything in the slightest. So you stood between him and the three kids that were still making fun of him, head high, fists up by your sides in a superhero pose “You shouldn’t make fun of others”

“Why don’t we make fun of both of you then, Y/N?”

“At least I can put my shirt shirt when I’m dressing myself, Areum” the girl looked down for half a second before staring you down, full of rage before huffing and turning around in true mean girl fashion.

You turn back to find a pair of bambi eyes staring at you, sobs silenced, although his chest still showed him trying to fully catch his breath. You extend your hand for him to take it so that he could stand up “I’m Y/N what’s your name?”

“I’m Jungkook” you were quick to grab his arm and pull him to where Sungho had watched the whole scene with Areum, now staring at the way you dragged the slightly shorter boy towards him

“Well Jungkook, this is Sungho and I just decided that all of us three are going to be best friends forever” the small boy smiled at that, bunny teeth showing in the process, eyes sparkly with wonder and pure appreciation, contrasting the look on Sungho’s face.

“Y/N I think you need to have girl friends to have these sleepovers with, Jungkook and I are boys” Sungho says as soon as you pass him the mirror and he is left staring at his reflection with a ton of glitter eyeshadow on his face, you turn to look at Jungkook, who is currently sprawled out playing with his nintendo, a set of pigtails adoring his head along with the hottest pink lipstick you could find

“I don’t mind it” he stuffed his mouth with chips as he continued to play on his console, not sparing any of you a look, although you smiled at him fondly, grateful to have him play along whenever Sungho didn’t feel like it, which seemed to be more and more as all of you grew older.

“Well I’m going to take this off” he said as he ran into the bathroom to wash his face. Good luck trying to get rid of glitter.

You huffed out a sigh at how boring it was getting if Sungho didn’t like to play your games, along with Jungkook being stuck inside his own little world. “This is so boriiiing”

“It was your idea Y/N”

“Yeah but you guys are no fun”

Jungkook pauses his game to turn to look at you “We can watch a movie if you’d like”

If someone were to tell 6 year old you that twelve years later, the kid that used to make fun of you would turn into your best friend, you would have probably laughed in their face, although as years went by, Areum had finally gotten better in terms of personality, up to the point where she had a full on talk with you before you decided to give it a try, even more so as she now took it as her job to protect you in high school, seeing as she was a year older than you.

“Jungkook has changed” the brunette said while taking a seat next to you inside the cozy smoothie shop, crumpling up her receipt inside her bag distractedly as you just stared at her, not knowing what had prompted her to talk about your best friend, Jungkook wasn’t exactly what one would consider popular, especially amongst the higher grades, especially not given the bickering grudge he held against Areum after all those years.

“What do you mean?”

“Just- seems like before summer he was this scrawny little thing, deer eyes, soft smiles” you looked at her intently, Jungkook had gone on vacation with his family for weeks as soon as finals were over, leaving with the promise of hanging out for the few days before school started again, similar to how you were now hanging out with Areum, her having arrived back a few hours before Jungkook “Now- well”

There were a million thoughts running inside your mind, some seemingly more plausible than others, tow hich yopu found yourself asking “Areum, did you fuck Jungkook?”

“I mean- we were both staying at the same hotel Y/N” Areum sipped on heir smoothie as a way to act coy about it, wide eyes turned the other way at the prospect of having said out loud that her latest conquest was none other than little Jungkook, the guy she had always made fun of for one or another reason

“Oh god you slept with Jungkookie” and you really tried to picture her, accepted into college, beautiful Areum, long lean legs, model faced Areum, flirt queen that always seemed to go for older guys Areum, paired up with sweet Jungkookie, sure, your best friend was cute, handsome even, there was no denying it, he was just not- Areum level handsome, Areum liked going out to party, let men shower her in drinks while Jungkook absolutely loved staying home battling Sungho in the newest video game that was around “I-I have no words”

“Y/N- Y/N don’t judge until you’ve tapped it” your friend seemed to space out for a second, as if looking back at her time with Jungkook, dreamily. “The guy got buff”

And sure he did, not only did Jungkook was now full of muscle, he also apparently had renewed his wardrobe, bought a motorcycle and apparently had even grown a few centimeters taller, or at least that much was said by Sungho as you three met up for lunch the day before classes started again, trying to catch up as you did every year when the three of you didn’t get a chance to hang out much.

“So are we getting that newly released game Kook?” Sungho mentioned in what appeared to be the background, your eyes completely fixated on whomever the man sitting in front of you was, definitely not your best friend Jungkook.

“Nah dude, I sold all my consoles and games to buy my bike” your eyes widened at the confession, probably mirroring the uttermost shocked look that Sunho was also sporting. Jeon Jungkook selling his videogames was definitely a sign of the apocalypse. You were about to make a comment before you heard a very familiar voice behind you, making you turn your head towards it.

“Jungkookie, you wanted me to come over?” her eyes had that sparkle in them which you have come to recognise as her being infatuated by someone, even if she didn’t really talked about it openly, you turned towards Jungkook in disbelief

“Yeah, Areum, lose my number”

You consciously close your mouth at the exchange as Areum backed away from the table muttering an ‘oh..okay’ as Jungkook smiled daily at her, your eyes lock in surprise with Sungho’s, both of you silently agreeing that this Jungkook was certainly a new side neither of you could yet guess whether or not you would continue to be able to befriend, although the history between the three of you spoke volumes.

And just like that, enough to get whiplash from it, Jungkook’s lazy uninterested eyes were replaced by the squinty smile you had learned to adore over the years, bunny teeth showing as his laugh resonated in the restaurant “Oh god you guys should have seen your faces!”

Your eyes travelled along the expanse of the space you three were in, looking at Sungho for a clue to pick up about what was happening, coming up empty handed as he spoke first “Dude I almost had a heart attack, I thought you had sold your games!”

“Oh no that I did” Jungkook took a sip out of his drink calmly

You tried not to show how nothing made sense in your mind “And that thing with...Areum?”

He placed his cup down, looking at you with wide eyes humming softly “Yeah that was a thing too, she’s been texting me non stop after we hooked up. I’m just glad I’m back with you guys”

So Jungkook had changed, that much was true, just not as much as he let people believe. Sure enough, the guy was now pure muscle, rode a bike everywhere, and made it his lifeplan to conquer as many girls as his schedule allowed him too; he also made a few other friends outside of your friends' circle, enough for rumours to go around about him being involved in shady business, or him hooking up with somebody’s mum. Either way, if you were to turn a blind eye to his social persona, Jungkook was still your and Sungho’s little Jungkookie, bambi wide eyes that teared up whenever it was movie night and you picked some chick flick, bunny teeth and loud giggles as he played a prank on Sungho, even though you could tell his heart just wasn’t in it as it was before.

“I’m gonna ask Y/N out” Sungho has asked Jungkook to meet him outside of campus on the first weeks of college as all three of you decided to attend together, uninterested on whatever it was that he was about to tell him, but trying to keep up his fractured friendship with the man (and you) he had shown up, even so a little fashionably late to make his point clear.

“And you’re telling me this because..”

“I don’t want to make it awkward, Jeon” Jungkook scoffs before rolling his eyes at Sungho “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you little boy crush on her for years”

“What I think you haven’t noticed is that I don’t do feelings” Jungkook retorts as he approaches him “And although I find Y/N to be quite fuckable if you ask me, I appreciate her enough not to put her in a weird place like you’re about to do, asshole”

Once weeks rolled around, things kept on being as the were after that fateful summer where Jungkook completely reinvented himself, even as semesters came and went, Jungkook grew a bit more separate from both Sungho and yourself, although it became a little harder to discern whether it was because of Jungkook or due to the fact that Sungho and you had started dating during the first semester of college. Sungho had no real answer to give you when asked about it, saying that outside of the scheduled movie night you three kept on sharing, he barely even texted Jungkook on his own.

“I heard your girl is getting married” his friend said as he handed him an opened beer, taking his place back against his bike in the middle of the night after some race they had gone to near the outskirts of Seoul.

Jungkook took a swing out of the bottle, squinting at the questionable choice in alcohol “I don’t have a girl Jihoon”

“Oh? Then what’s Y/N?'' he felt the blood draining from his face, heart heavy, breath hitching inside his throat as soon as your name left his lips. Of fucking course Sungho would try to marry you before you graduated. That bastard.

It was quite funny really, Jungkook knew from the very start, back when all three of you had 6 years old and you had saved him from a set of mean kids in the park, that Sungho was never fond of him, or rather, of the relationship you had developed with him, sure, the two men had bonded over a few shared interests as they grew up, but the only thing that kept them together was you. Sometimes Jungkook guesses it could have been him instead of Sungho, asking you out, sharing nights together, even being about to get married. But those thoughts were only wishful thinking, he had long ago decided that you deserved so much more than what he could give you, what with his eternal fear and inability to give himself up to others. So he had let you go, never thinking about the possibility of Sungho taking a place he wasn't worthy of either.

"Good for her"

It wasn't long after learning that you were engaged, that the invitation arrived to his apartment, just a few days after graduation. It wasn't really a surprise anymore, even back when he first heard the news, it wasn't that surprising, he guessed it was the years of knowing both you and Sungho, learning your patterns, that he had somehow seen it coming. It didn't make it any less hard to wish you weren't about to walk down the aisle to a man that wasn't him though. But he kept repeating to himself to stop being selfish, he had lost his chance, not that he ever had one to begin with, but as long as you were happy, he would be too.

And you really did seem happy, so he was willing to just ignore the way that his chest seemed to constrict every time your eyes locked on his from across the room as the rehearsal dinner, you were sporting a gorgeous emerald dress, the same colour as when you two first met eighteen years back, his mind spinning with impossible scenarios as each minute that passed really just turned out to be a minute closer to watch you walk down the aisle to another man, one that was supposed to be his best friend at that.

“Bride’s or groom’s” A sweet female voice called him as he sipped on his fifth? sixth? champagne flute, finding a woman staring at him with what he has come to recognise as lust.

“Eh.. you could say both”

A glimpse of recognition could be seen in her eyes before she spoke again “You must be Jungkook then, the overseeked bachelor”

“In the flesh” He smirked at her as she took a hold of his hand, guiding him upstairs to where you and your soon to be husband had booked bridesmaids and groomsmen alike for the night. Not that the blonde had anything to do with how utterly horrible he was feeling about the whole wedding situation but perhaps fucking his frustrations out would help just a little.

Jeon Jungkook was never the one to stick around until morning, that much was true, and although he might be known for a varying of unspeakable things, nothing could have prepared him for what he had to witness at ungodly hours.

He picked up the rest of his clothing after half dressing himself, not even sparing a second glance at the woman that was laying on her bed peacefully, careful not to make more sounds than the inherently necessary, his curiosity is peaked as he hears faintly moaning and skin slapping skin coming from the room next door, seeing the door barely open, and against his better judgement he peeks inside only to feel his heart pounding against his chest, blood rushing inside his ears as he can’t seem to look away from the image presented to him. Sungho, your soon to be husband, the one that he used to consider his best friend for years on end, the oh so righteous Sungho, ever morally correct Sungho, bending your other so-called best friend and maid of honour, Areum, over the comforter as he fucked into her. A few hours before he got married to you. After everything that he had put him through, making him believe that it was in your best interest top let you go, that he should have handed you over to him, that he was the best option out of the two of you to build a life with.

Jungkook sees red and doesn’t quite remember anything other than Areum running out of the room as he punches Sungho in the face, receiving some punches back.

“You absolutely disgust me”

The bastard has the guts to laugh at him “You know, Jeon” he goes to inspect his face in the mirror “If you burst Y/N’s bubble, you’ll forever be remembered as the stupid little boy that was jealous enough on her wedding day to ruin her life”

Jungkook clenches his fists by his side before deciding to turn his heels and leave the room, vision still blurry in anger, breathing ragged, a small trickle of blood making its way down from his eyebrow as he almost automatically walked himself to the other side of the hostel where he knew you must have been resting, taking a few too many second to decide to knock on the door.

“Jungkook? What are you- oh god” sleep seems to leave you as soon as your eyes lock on his beat up face, him smiling at you in a futile attempt to have you not worry that much about his well being, but of course you were already searching for a first aid kit as he took a seat on your bed “Jungkookie, what happened?”

And perhaps he didn’t think it through that much, but he couldn’t let you walk yourself into a marriage blinded by the persona Sungho had always made you believe he was. “Y/N” he took your hands in his, stopping you from rubbing any more antiseptic into his cut “You’ll hear,a nd probably have already heard, too much shit about me”

His eyes beg you to stare at him intently, and although the whole scenario had you giggling out of nervousness, it soon died down “Kook, what are you talking about?”

“Y/N- Sungho is not the man he’s made us think he is” your eyes scan his face for any more clues on what he’s saying a syou feel a beeping sound closing in on your ears, overwhelmed by the situation “And he’ll probably say this is me just being a jealous asshole after being in love with you for more than half of my living years but-”

You stare at him in horror as your hands remove themselves from his hold as if he was burning, standing up from where you were seated next to him, feeling your whole world being crushed down a few hours before what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life “No” you take a step back as you hold your chest, feeling hot tears welling up in your eyes “Jungkook please don’t do this shit to me”

“Y/N just- don’t marry Sungho” somehow he had willed his voice to remain calm

Your head shook fervently at him, as if somehow the action would make him retreat his words “Sungho loves me, Jungkook”

His eyes were ice cold at your words “He loves you enough to fuck Areum a few hours before making you his wife”

He really didn’t mean the bite on his words as he said them, this had nothing to do with you and everything to do with that asshole you called finacé, so he could completely understand when through your tears, chest heavy with rage and head spinning you asked “Please leave”

And he did.

Everything seemed like a fever dream. The words that Jungkook had said, the implication that it had. And really, if it weren’t for the fact that Jungkook was gone from the whole ordeal, you could have sworn your life that it was nothing other than a nightmare, Areum was as bubbly as ever, helping you get ready. Sungho’s good morning text still found its way into your inbox. Jungkook had not only accused you fiancé of cheating, but had said he had always been in love with you, no further proof to his words, so you decided to go as planned, yet you found yourself hyper aware of every move Sungho made, especially when they involved Areum.

You stood in your pristine white dress in front of a couple dozens of guests as traditional words were spoken, your mind a thousand miles away as you kept on looking towards the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would open up, Jungkook would show up and stop you from making what could potentially be the worst mistake of your life.

"If anyone objects to the marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace." your eyes trail to the soor, yearning to hear Jungkook’s voice amidst the otherwise silent chapel, but it never came.

“Hey, Y/N come dance with us,” one of your bridesmaids say as the night progresses after dinner, some loud beat taking over the venue at the reception, making everyone stand up to dance, including your now-husband as you find yourself sulking sitting on your designated table.

“I’m fine, you go” you try to flash her the biggest smile you can as she goes, leaving you once again with your thoughts. Thoughts that mainly involved Jungkook, figuring that after all these years, life had managed to finally separate you, heart yearning to have him close to you, the more you became aware of your current life path, the more you realised what a humongous mistake you had made. You had always thought that marrying Sungho would give you a sense of utter happiness, of fulfillment, whether what Jungkook said was true or not, as you watched your husband having the time of his life without you. If he were Jungkook, he would be seated right by your side.

Jeon Jungkook, as deviated as he appeared to be to everyone, as much as he slept around, he had demonstrated to be the most loyal human being by your side up until the last second of your friendship, unlike Sungho, he had always been interested in what you wanted to do, had always let your voice be heard, had helped you through rough times when Sungho was nowhere to be seen, perhaps you had chosen the wrong best friend to fall in love with a few years ago, the wrong man in your life to marry. It had been Jungkook all along. It could have been Jungkook all along.

Your eyes fixate on the way that Sungho whispers something on Areum’s ear and you feel your blood boil, more out of self-pity and annoyance at letting such a man manipulate you rather than jealousy as you stand up to make your way to the bathroom, in hopes of freshening up before coming up with a plan to fix this mistake.

You sigh as you hold yourself up by the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, pondering just how deep you’ll have to dig to come out of the mess when you hear an all too familiar deep chuckle behind you “So you realised”

You turn your back to the mirror to face Jungkook “That Sungho was an asshole or that I’m in love with you?”

His eyes turn into those deeply surprised deer shape you remember from when he was younger for a split second before they’re filled with something else between lust and deep appreciation as he backs you up further against the sink, a tattooed hand coming up to your chin “Does that mean I get to kiss you with no regrets now?”

“Would you kiss a married woman, Jungkook?” you ask playfully, matching the brattiness in his tone

“Only the ones whose husbands are assholes” and so his lips capture yours in a sweet quick kiss that has you wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in once again, escalating from a very much due kiss filled with words that are unable to be said, into a fiery pit in the low of your stomach at the prospect of kissing Jungkook while still being in your wedding dress, just a few hours married and kissing another man.

Jungkook’s hands have abandoned their place on your figure in favour of trying to undo the little buttons on the back of your dress, breaking the kiss to complain “God just how many buttons does this dress have?”

Soon enough your dress lays forgotten on the floor, matching lingerie covering your body as Jungkook has most of your body up against the mirror, panties aside in favour of having him fingering you, arms almost failing to keep you upright as he mouths at your skin, moans escaping your lips regularly as he pumps and curls his fingers inside you, lewd noises taking reverbating on the small bathroom’s walls, a faint trail of bass coming in from the party “God you’re so perfect Y/N” he grunted as you heard his zipper coming down before feeling the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, his hand coming up to grip your hair making you face the mirror, makeup completely wrecked, the sight almost unrecognisable to you, a slight burning but pleasurable sensation on your scalp “I bet that bastard Sungho wouldn’t be able to wreck you like this” without further notice entering you from behind, your walls clenching against him as you felt him slowly but firmly making his way in and out of you at a building rapidly pace, a moan slipping past your lips and Jungkook shushing you in exchange as he increases his speed and you bit your lip to forbid any noises from coming out, afraid of being heard even when you knew it would be almost impossible to do so over the loud party noises, this bathroom being so far away from it.

Jungkook had placed your right leg up the sink, hitting an even deeper spot that had you building your orgasm at an incredible speed, throwing your head back in pleasure, feeling him completely inside you as heat pooled in your lower belly.

“K-Kook I’m gonna-ah! I’m gonna cum” a few flicks on your clit with his expert fingers as he helped you keep yourself upright did the trick as Jungkook made sure to somehow thrust even deeper, a loud moan scaping you as he spilled his warm seed inside you, quickly adjusting back his boxers and trousers as one of his fingers collected some cum that was dripping down your thigh to push it back in, letting go of you to hold yourself up against the sink, pulling your panties back in place.

“Think that counts as a wedding gift?” he turns to leave the bathroom, leaving you heaving to haphazardly step inside your dress as you trail behind him, finding him resting against a wall, his bike roaring a few meters away as he smiles your way knowingly as he puts on his helmet, throwing another one your way "So.. all ready to leave that asshole of a husband now or should I wait another 15 years?"

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 6 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.5k

tw: none

masterlist

The steady burst of snow is burning your hands.

You're frozen to the bones. And all you can hear is the chattering of your teeth as you drag the limp body of your Leviathan down the shambles of a road that once led you to freedom, to success.

Your eyes snap open as you pull yourself out of the nightmare, clutching at your shaking form underneath the sheets. You stretch your arm out behind you to feel for the man you gave yourself to the night before but find nothing but empty space.

Had you imagined the whole thing?

The grey sheets are tucked so neatly around you, and the nightstand is devoid of any of your trinkets that you know you're not in your own room. Something clatters in the kitchen, and you hear Suguru curse, making you get up and toss off the sheets. Before your hand reaches for the doorknob, you notice your lack of clothing and grab the bathrobe hanging from a hook by the door. You tie the massive cotton item around yourself and fling the door open, not bothering to fix your hair before walking into the living room.

Before you can peek into the kitchen, a pair of blue eyes catch your visage and looks twice before a smile spreads across Gojo's face.

"Aw, shit. Yuki said you were wasted, but I didn't think-- I knew you had it in you, Su, but damn..."

Suguru appears a second later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and catching you in his bathrobe, standing in shock in the living room. "Oh, y/n," he murmurs, and pushes his bangs out of his face. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry about the noise; I was trying to cook breakfast."

"No, it's okay," you whisper, and he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes roving over your figure clad in his bathrobe.

"Looks good on you."

"Yo, can you quit flirting and hurry up? I have to brief you two on your next mission before Toji tries to beat me to the pool hall."

"Right," you sit across from Gojo on the couch, and Suguru turns off the stove to sit next to you. You notice he isn't timid in front of Satoru, placing his arm around the couch behind you. Gojo notices this and says nothing, instead choosing to thump the file in his hands onto the table. You reach for it, then open the black folder, noting the heavy redaction on many of the pages.

"This might be your biggest one yet," Gojo states, leaning forward. "You're going to be recovering some evidence needed in our search for Kenjaku."

Kenjaku. The most elusive man in the entire CSB. Known for blowing covers of CSB Kitsune, organizing massive Leviathan casualties on staged recon missions, and relentlessly terrorizing the Grand Council with threats of bringing the CSB to its knees.

Your palms begin to sweat, and Suguru takes the file from your hands, letting you lace your fingers together to stop them from shaking.

"How do we know this isn't a setup?" Suguru wonders and then looks up from the folder. "And why is y/n coming with us? This is normally Leviathan work."

"Y/n is going in as a scout. But you'll be with her, along with four other high-level ops teams. It'll be presented as a routine inspection of the systems, but you two will orchestrate the recovery. The other four teams will assist with entry and extraction."

"And what kind of evidence is this?"

"Files." Your mind flashes to the files sitting in the trash on your desktop, and you inhale deeply. "Files from a computer linked to a DDOS attack from his base. You'll be going in and retrieving them with a thumb drive." The thumb drive is slapped onto the table, the silver color shining in the light of the living room.

"When do we leave?" you wonder, and Gojo smiles, showing all of his teeth.

"In twelve hours, right as everyone is getting off. The building will need to be empty when you two go in to prevent any suspicions or reports back to Kenjaku."

"Got it."

_____________________________________________________________

Geto drives you to the rendezvous, wearing an all-black outfit and glasses that he keeps fiddling with nervously. His tattoos are covered up, but that doesn't make him look any less intimidating.

Again, he's a "security officer". Well, one without a gun, which is probably why he's fiddling with his fake glasses so much.

You consider your cover - Information Technology Officer - and look down at your outfit again. Your dress pants and frilly white blouse look the part, but you don't feel the part.

"This is too easy," you mention, and Suguru glances over at you.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"So I just go into this room, find the computer, and plug in the thumb drive?"

"You have to locate the one--"

"Row Eleven, computer eighteen."

"You're too good at this," Suguru laughs, and you chuckle, looking out of the window. The massive building looms ahead, and you feel your gut twist painfully. As you pull into the parking garage, you watch for the first set of teams to assist with entry. They'd be disguised as guards that will lead you into the building and up to the room, and then two sets of guards would come to get you and lead you out, taking the thumb drive with them as they depart.

But why so many people? Weren't you and Suguru enough to get in and get out with the evidence?

You step out of the car after Suguru parks, and when you get to the front of the building, you see the first set of guards. They open the doors to the main floor, where people are still milling about and wrapping up for the day. Next, you're walked to the elevators, where one of the guards swipes a keycard, his eyes looking everywhere but at you and Suguru as he presses the up button. His partner stands closely behind you two, but you consider the ultra level of security a comfort.

Suguru, however, is not so thrilled.

"Can you back the fuck up?" he turns and asks the woman behind you, who steps back at the forcefulness of his tone. You look up at him and notice a deep frown line set into his brows as you walk onto the elevator, unaccompanied. Suguru punches the "7" button with his knuckle and stands stiffly as the doors close on the two security guards below.

"Everything's going to be fine," you reassure him, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You'll see." He grunts in response as the elevator grinds to a halt, and the automated voice announces, "Floor Seven". The second set of guards meets you right outside of the elevators, one taking the lead while the other walks behind you as you walk past a row of frosted glass doors. A key card is swiped again, and you go past a wooden door that has no windows before walking down a less inviting hallway.

Row eleven, computer eighteen.

The guard in front opens a door leading to the computer room, and you're met with a fierce blue glow from the dormant screens.

"Ten minutes," Suguru advises you, and you walk past him, nodding.

"Give me seven."

You count the rows from the back of the room and find the eleventh row easily, then down the long path to computer eighteen. When you sit down at the screen, your fingers quickly type in the password: TOUR-DOZE-KURD.

You take the thumb drive out of your pocket and wait for the program files to load, searching through each and every one with lightning speed.

"If I was a suspicious file... where would I be..." You open the TEMP files and instantly find a massive .zip file just out in the open. You open the ZIP extractor and wait for the files to pop up, sticking the thumb drive into the computer and inhaling before the "finished" notification pops up.

However, when the files open, your eye catches on one, in particular, making your heart stop.

Release to Y/n on (unknown date and time).

Two and a half minutes left on the clock.

You drag the extracted files to the thumb drive icon, but you click on the folder addressed to you while they're downloading.

And you discover the same videos, the same audio files, the same documents that were dropped onto your computer. Yet, all you can hear is the rushing sound of blood in your ears as you click out and look at the other files, hundreds of names and release times labeled on files.

Two other names catch your eye, and you balk, fearing the worst if you open them:

Geto Suguru. (released).

Yu Haibara. (do not release).

Once the files finish transferring with only a minute to spare, you snatch the stick out of the computer and leap up, shutting the device down before rushing out of the room.

"Suguru, there's something very wro--" You stop in your tracks as you see two men dressed in grey Kitsune uniforms standing across from Suguru, their guns pointed at the two of you. Suguru's hands are raised, and you shakily inhale, feeling the thumb drive growing hot in your pocket.

"I know, baby," he whispers, eyes focused on the men blocking your exit down the hallway. "Looks like we've been set up."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23@rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 2

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2900

Warnings: Elevators, Angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Steve POV

“The 911 operator I was talking to had this great idea to use the hose to pull the little girl across the water to get her out of the pool,” Steve reminisced, sitting at the big island in the kitchen watching Sam cook.

“Dude, I was there, remember,” Sam replied.  “And hasn’t it been like a week since that happened?”

“Yeah, but it was such a clever idea. I didn’t even know they could see the whole house on their monitors.”

“Who cares! It’s probably some fancy technology not available on the market yet, but if I'm hearing this correctly, it sounds like she popped Stevie’s dispatcher cherry,” Bucky joked behind him.

Steve peeked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. “My what cherry?”

“You know when you talk to a dispatcher on the phone while on scene. Danvers takes those calls most of the time, but every once in a blue moon, one of us takes it.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. “Who was the operator?”

“Um...YN.”

“Oh, my sister,” Thor announced in a deep voice, patting him on the shoulder and taking the stool next to him. “She is very intelligent.”

“Wait, you have a sister?” Steve asked, widening his eyes at him.

“I have two sisters, while one half-sister, but we don’t talk about her because she’s the worst,” Thor answered with pursed lips. “YN is the best though, I like to think she got the brains, I got the brawn, and well, I guess, that makes Loki the beaut of the family.” He nodded with a half shrug. 

“Are we still talking about how Rogers popped his dispatcher cherry,” Carol smirked, walking into the kitchen with Valkyrie. Steve felt his face heat up as he tried to say something, but she held her hand up. “It’s okay! Everyone remembers their first time,” She winked, forcing him to shake his head.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Steve held up his hands in surrender, trying to hide the blush on his face.

_____________

You swiveled back and forth in your chair, waiting for the next call to come in. You had a half-hour left of your twelve-hour shift, and you needed a girls' night out. Living with your brother and Darryl was both a blessing and a curse. They offered you a place to stay, rent-free when you first moved here, but the amount of testosterone in that house was sometimes too much for you to handle. You tapped your fingers on your desk when your line started ringing. You sat up, letting out a deep breath, and pressed the spacebar.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello,” a male voice replied.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m making a turkey and was wondering what the internal temperature has to be?”

“You do know it’s against the law to call with a fake emergency, right?”

“Yes, but this is an emergency.”

“No, it’s not, so get off my line.” You hung up the line, shaking your head. Right away, another call came through, and you answered it. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“Hi, hello. My friends are trapped in the elevator. The elevator must have snapped or something because there was this loud bang.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Natural History Museum. Please hurry!”

____________

Steve sat in his unassigned assigned spot at the dining table, eating a late lunch with the team. It was the cardinal rule at Station 107: Work as a team and eat as a family. Steve never thought he'd be able to find another firehouse he enjoyed working at, considering his previous teammates and friends at his old one. He hated leaving them behind, but he needed a fresh start, and so far, Station 107 was the best second home he could ask for. 

Everyone brought something to the team as every firehouse did.  Captain Danvers, or Ace as she preferred to be called in the field, brought her confidence and experience, which made for a great leader they could trust and rely on. Thor had his strength and his bravery, but he did have an ego. Sam was a great motivator and could keep everyone on task while still cracking jokes. It was no wonder Sam was the head EMT at this firehouse. Valkyrie was a badass and wasn’t afraid to put people in their place. As for Bucky, Steve knew he would always be there for him till the end of the line. 

The loud alarm blaring throughout the firehouse pulled Steve out of his stupor. Everyone knew what that sound meant, and they were ready to tackle whatever it might be. One after another, they slid down the firepole, pulled on their gear, and hopped in the truck, heading towards the scene. It wasn’t unusual to take calls that didn’t involve fire because whoever could get there the fastest was better than no one showing up at all. 

Thor hopped behind the driver's seat of the fire engine, pulling out of the garage. Carol sat beside him, giving him directions while speaking with the dispatcher through her headset. The sirens were wailing with Val and Sam behind them in the ambulance. 

“Alright, boys. We got an elevator crash at the Natural History Museum,” Carol said into her helmet mic after speaking with dispatch. “Dispatch says three students and their pregnant teacher are inside.”

“What’s the plan, Ace?” Steve asked into his helmet mic, concealing the siren blaring in the background. 

“I have contacted the museum's elevator technician, and he has already locked and tagged the power on the cars. The car sits near the basement level, so we will approach from the top in the lobby. I want Thor on the winch…”

“Ahh---what,” Thor interrupted her.

“Calm down, big guy, you can have the next one.” She gave him the side-eye, making the rest of the crew chuckle. “Steve and Bucky are going to do an immediate retrieval and approach from the top. Sam and Val will set a perimeter and then treat those who come up. Then, I will help with the retrieval, and Thor with the winch,” she stated with the last part dripping in sarcasm.

“It still hurts,” Thor added, taking a right at the intersection.

Once on-site, everyone grabbed their gear and took their positions.  Steve and Bucky strapped on their harnesses and helmets, switching on the flashlight. They started scaling down the elevator shaft from the lobby as Thor lowered them on the winch with the retrieving rope.

“How we looking, Steve?”

“Sexy, but not like we are trying too hard, but it’s more kind of effortless.” 

“Yeah, I mean, have you seen Steve’s ass in that harness. It could be American’s Ass or more like LA’s Finest Ass,” Sam commented with a whistle, echoing in the shaft. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Steve landed on the top of the elevator, unhooking himself while Bucky did the same.  “I’m down and unattached.”

“That’s what she said,” Carol responded with her head appearing in the shaft.

Thor chuckled, shaking his head. “Classic.”

Steve rolled his eyes and used his other flashlight to find the hatch on top of the elevator. He unclipped the lock, opening the hatch door, seeing the top of the lights. “I’m Fireman Rogers, please move towards the buttons. I’m going to kick the light out, so we can get you out of there.” It took a few kicks, but once it fell through, a few faces peeked up at him.  “How are we doing in there?”

“Oh my god, thank god, you’re here. I thought we were gonna die,” one of the kids replied, clutching his phone in his hand.

“Calm down, Flash. Everything is fine,” the pregnant woman reassured. “Right?” She looked up at Steve with worried filled eyes, and he nodded.

“Watch out, I'm coming down.” Steve crawled down into the hatch, and Bucky passed him the spare harness.  “Ma’am, you’re going up first, but first we need to get you strapped into this harness, then we’ll pull you up.” She nodded, trusting him, and allowing him to put the harness on her before Thor used the winch to pull her up.

“Okay, boys, who's going to go next?”

“I’m next,” the one they called Flash stated.

“Okay, then, how about you with the cool hat.”

“Thanks, it gives me confidence,” the kid smiled.

“And then, you,” Steve pointed to the kid wearing a Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt.

“Um...yeah--” he nodded a little too much. “--Yeah...I can go last. Get everyone else to safety first.”

“Perfect.” Steve clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

___________

It turned out to be a quick rescue, and no one suffered any major injuries. Steve took some gear out to the truck and started repacking it when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around, noticing the kid in the Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt wrapped in an ambulance blanket. 

“What can I do for you, kid?”

“Peter. Peter Parker. I’m...I’m Peter Parker.” He held out his hand, and Steve shook it. “I just wanted to say thank you...thank you for saving my teacher and my friends back there. We’re on our school trip from New York, and this was an adrenaline rush experience.” Peter held up his hand, and Steve noticed it shaking.

He chuckled. “It will wear off.”

“It felt like that opening scene of that old action movie. Where John Wick saves those people that were trapped in the elevator after the bad guy tried to blow them up with a bomb. They don’t catch him obviously because it’s the opening scene, but later he puts the bomb on the bus, and that Bird Box lady has to keep driving like fifty-five miles an hour, or the bus will blow up.”

“I know the one. I think you’re thinking of Speed, but I don’t think it’s that old.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that one,” he chuckled, pointing his finger at him. “It’s kind of old, I mean you’re kind of old, so it’s kind of old to you, but to me, it’s kind of new because I’m not that old.” He rambled on, his eyes widening, realizing what he was saying. 

“Peter, come on. The museum is going to show us some never before seen stuff because we almost died,” the kid with the cool hat shouted from across the street. 

“Coming, Ned,” he yelled back. “Thanks again, Fireman Rogers, and sorry about calling you old. I didn’t...”

“It’s okay, kid, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Steve watched Peter run back over to his friends with a smile on his face. It was these moments when he loved his job, watching friends and families reunite after a tragedy. It was these moments where he felt like it could almost fix what he lost. 

______________

You sighed, taking a seat at your usual spot at the end of the bar in Happy’s Hydrant. Happy noticed you right away and smiled, giving you a bottle of beer. You thanked him with a nod, taking a sip, and scanning the crowd. It wasn’t unusual to spot a familiar face, considering this bar was created for the heroes of Los Angeles. It welcomed all those members who served or are currently serving as first responders, but civilians were welcome, too. It’s nice to have a place to go with people you could relate to and share similar experiences with after working a twelve or twenty-four-hour shift. They understand what we go through on a day to day basis. It was one of the many reasons Happy Hogan wanted to open this bar after he retired from his Fire Chief position at Station 12.

You swiveled back and forth on your bar stool until someone familiar on the other end of the bar caught your eye. You stopped moving, your eyes not wavering from the man. Your mouth went dry, hearing your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You gulped, feeling your palms start to tingle as the muscles in your legs start to tighten. Every nerve in your body was firing, telling you to run, but it felt like if you moved an inch, he would see you, and these past three months would’ve been for nothing. He glanced your way for a brief moment, and relief flooded your whole body. You relaxed, squeezing your eyes shut as you took a few deep breaths in and out. It wasn’t him. 

The weight of someone touching your shoulder makes you jump off your bar stool, and turn around to see one of the ladies you were waiting for.  “Hey, it’s only me.” Carol held up her hands in surrender, giving you a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I forgot how jumpy you can be.”

“It’s okay. Lost in my head again.” You nodded, returning to your barstool.

“Thanks for giving my transfer a chance to be the shining star of my squad last week.” She nudged your side, flagging down Happy for a drink.

“Your what...with what,” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“The pool, the hose, the little girl stranded on a floaty with the water electrified. Ringing any bells?”

“Ohhh, right. That one.” You took a sip of your beer. “Fireman Rhodes or was it Ronin?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.” You pointed the neck of your beer bottle at her and nodded. “You made quite an impression on him. He can’t stop talking about it, and it’s getting really annoying, but I guess you did pop his dispatcher cherry.” She nudged your side with an ever-growing smile on her face. You rolled your eyes at her, shaking your head. “And if single you is interested, I am sure he is willing to mingle. At least, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not ready to start dating. I’m still trying to find myself after going through a terrible six-year marriage.” You gave her a half shrug, eyeing the bar. “When I am ready to date again, all I want is a nice guy.”

“Steve’s nice.  Hey, you should swing by one day before your shift and meet him,” she winked, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“I haven’t even filed for divorce yet.”

“Wait--” she turned on her stool to face you “--hasn’t it been three months? Why not?”

“I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“Doesn’t he know where Thor lives?”

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Let's just say he didn’t take much interest in my life while we were together. Besides, I don’t think he'd think I’d go to Thor with how everything turned out the last time I went to him for help.

“What an asshole.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer, and you nodded.  “Well, at least you know you have an admirer,” she added, making you scoff.

“Hey ladies, sorry I’m late,” Natasha greeted, taking the other stool next to you. “Clint and I checked out this noise complaint a neighbor called in. And it turns out this guy was serenading his ex-girlfriend with hopes to win her back. It was this whole thing, and we wanted to stick around to see what happened next.” 

“So what happened,” Carol asked with curious eyes, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face.

“It was crazy.” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “She came down and punched him in the face. Apparently, this dude cheated on her with, wait for it--” she drummed her hands on the bar countertop “--her brother. It was a twist I didn’t see coming, but talk about drama on duty. Sometimes I think it would be easier fighting fires or answering phones all day.”

“Oh please, Nat, you wouldn’t last a day. You would miss seeing the excitement first hand. Over the phone, you don’t get much excitement,” you replied.

“Speak for yourself,” Carol added, taking a swig of her beer. “You would love my job, Nat. You get to boss men around.”

“I kind of do that already. Besides, I don’t think I could leave Clint. He’d be lost without me,” she smirked, signaling Happy to make her a martini.

Natasha oozed confidence, which came off as intimidating to most women. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, but it was attention she chose to ignore. When men would buy her drinks, she'd take it to another lovely lady. Nat was all about lifting and empowering women to feel confident in their own skin. She wasn’t afraid to tell people to back off or shut up. She was the role model you wish you had when you were with him, then maybe you would've had the confidence and courage to leave sooner. 

“Here you are, Nat?” Happy pushed the martini glass to her. “Are you ladies still good?” He asked, pointing to the drinks in front of you.  

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Happy,” you smiled at him as he walked away, shooting you a thumbs up. 

“How is apartment hunting going, YN?” Nat asked, taking a sip of her martini.

“Good, I found this cute little condo a few blocks away from work. It has a modern feel to it, but I think it would be perfect for me,” you described. “I loved it when I saw the pictures. The landlord is out of town right now, but she told me it’s mine if I want it.”

“I’m so excited for you,” Nat squealed, squeezing your forearm. “You need to get out of that testosterone-filled house and get on your own two feet again.”

“Yes, you do,” Carol agreed. “What’s your softie older brother going to think of you leaving?”

“I’m going to have to break it to him slowly.”

__________

AN: Thanks for reading part 2! I hope you all are liking it so far! If you caught it there was a quote from Brooklyn 99 that I thought was too good not to put in! 😂 Also, Darryl Jacobson, if you don't remember him, he was Thor's roommate in those Marvel shorts. I thought he would be a fun and entertaining addition to this story! Also, any ideas as to why Steve left his old firehouse? Did you enjoy the little Peter Parker cameo? And what do you think Thor is going to think of her moving it? Comments always welcome, thanks again for reading! 

[catt-nuevenor]

Which of the Ros are the most possessive. And how would they react if someone is hitting on the Mc.

Alrighty then, lets do a little scene setting shall we?

The MC and RO are in an established relationship by this point, and the MC is not into the attention they are receiving from a visiting merchant.

Hope you all enjoy!

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

P

P looked through the produce, picking out the best, setting aside the bruised or battered fruits as they went. Osmund gave them an indulgent shake of the head, but didn't comment on the particulars of their weekly ritual. It saved him and his wife from having to do it after all.

"Busy day." He commented, stretching out his arms as he peered round the humming market, smiling despite himself when he caught Aveza's eye. She waved to him, and he flicked a hand to wave back only to pause mid motion, the concerned frown on his wife's brow causing him to sit up.

Following Aveza's gesturing, Osmund traced over to a tightly pitched stall near Erda's place. With it's bright blue awning and fancy footed table, an array of impractical knick-knacks and tat spilling out at what he'd been reliably informed were exorbitant prices, the entire set up screamed 'city folk'.

And even if it hadn't, the merchant behind it all declared their origins loud and uncomfortably proud.

"Hey, Starling." Osmund said quietly, eyes locked on the distant stall, the same crease of concern now dipping between his own brows.

P hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't look up from their self imposed task.

"You might wanna go help MC out."

That made them move sure enough. P snapped to attention, quickly looking back over the market, locating their partner in a heartbeat, setting off in their direction within the space of the next.

Aveza lingered a while near the stall, keeping an eye on proceedings as P materialised at MC's side, jaw set, eyes hard, entirely focused on the merchant.

"And who is this?" The young person asked, a sparkling smile falling somewhat flat in the face of the new arrival.

Aveza smirked to herself as she noticed P's hand come to rest comfortingly in the small of MC's back, the way the tiny gesture of comfort made the restrictive bunching of their shoulders ease.

"This is P, my partner." MC said.

"Oh!" The merchant cooed, looking the competition up and down a few times with an appraising eye. "I'm not the only one to admire the local fair then am I?"

P bristled, and Aveza winced, sparing a glance to the town hall, wondering whether now would be a good time to fetch Vyla, or maybe even old Erda, before anything got... messy.

"I suggest," The young person said, a soft rumble trembling beneath every word, "that you quit admiring and start learning to listen to your customers."

Whether by the misfortune of an inherent stupidity, or a suicidal self confidence, the merchant didn't take the hint. "Oh but I have been." The silly young person sighed, gazing at MC with a suggestive smile. "I could listen to them all-"

"Hopeless." P pronounced.

The merchant blinked. Once, twice, stuck somewhere between their lamed flirtation, and P's cutting assessment.

They shook their head, turned away from the stall, and nodded once to MC. "Ready to head home darling?"

Aveza chuckled, heading back to her husband. When P made it back to their stall, MC happily at their side, they both gave them a pat on the back.

"Nicely handled." Osmund grinned, returning the basket they'd forgotten in their haste to rescue MC.

P thanked him, the lightest of blushes dusting their freckled cheeks.

"I honestly thought they was going to hit them for a second there." Aveza said, passing MC a small cloth bag from beneath their stall. "Some pear comfits for your child." She explained, waving a dismissing hand when they reached for their coin pouch. "We've got plenty to spare."

"P's not really the hitting type." MC explained once they'd stashed the little bag of sweets away. "Well, Huite might be a slight exception..."

P laughed. "Don't tempt me." They said, wrapping an arm around MC's waist, kissing their cheek fondly.

"Oh for the love of-" Aveza groaned while her husband sniggered to himself, peering round the lovebirds to where the rejected merchant openly glowered at them. "Go on the pair of you! Before you get us embroiled in a guild war with the newbie."

Osmund and Aveza shooed them off with a cheery wave, promising to stop by the lodging house later, before they headed back to the farm.

L

"Pass me that second spoke would you?" Osmund said, holding his hand out and flexing his fingers expectantly as he kept his eye on the mechanism. Within a few seconds it was passed over, and with a careful twist and tug, Osmund slotted it into place.

"How'd you know which one was the second one?" L asked, watching the exercise with a all consuming fascination. "There's no numbers or anything."

MC smiled brightly at their partner, and explained Osmund's somewhat eccentric organisation system. "It's practice mostly." They said eventually, once the young person's confusion had descended into a baffled squint. "You get used to it."

"Honestly," Osmund grumbled with a smirk. "You both sound like Aveza. There is a system, and it works well enough."

Locating the next socket, and it's paired counterpart on the hub, Osmund scraped the few flakes of wood shavings out, puffing away at any remaining sawdust. Edony had done a good job, as always, but with the season being what it was, hadn't had the time to clean the new pieces out.

"Where is she?" L asked, swinging their heels against the upturned barrel they sat upon, casting about the market place for sign of the missing woman.

"Third one MC." Osmund said, holding out his hand once more till the spindle was placed upon his palm. "She's with the stall." He explained to the fisherperson. "Not that there'll be much more business today. Most folks do all their essentials in the morning."

A sharp, poorly hidden snort made him glance up at the red faced youngster.

MC smirked, lifting an amused brow. "Really L?"

"Oh come on! 'Do their essentials'?" Tone defensive L tightly crossed their arms over their chest. "It sounds like something Huite would wheeze about in the pub! Right?"

Osmund looked over to MC. "Ready with the fourth spoke?"

"Hey-!"

"Right here."

L shot their lover a withering glare. "Traitor." They huffed, pouting proudly and turning to glare out over the square.

The work continued for a time uninterrupted, MC and Osmund quickly moving through the twelve separate spokes. Edony would fix on the iron tyre later, but they'd at least got the mundane bit of the task done for her.

"Thanks MC." Osmund said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a smudged handkerchief. "I think Aveza has some comfits for you little one tucked away at the stall."

Typically, at this juncture, L would have piped up, driven with an all consuming passion to procure their own bag of treats. But they didn't.

They both looked at them, a little taken aback. The feeling grew when they saw the scowl. It wasn't directed at either of them, but out towards one of the distant stalls.

"Everything alright L?" MC asked, shifting to stand beside them, attempting to follow the line of their angry focus.

Osmund wheeled himself over to them, and saw almost immediately the cause of the young person's ire. Tucked neatly between the front of Erda's shop and the building opposite sat a stall that simply screamed guild money. He'd spotted it as he'd driven their oxen in this morning, and the person behind it. Now it seemed the same merchant had spotted them, or at least one of them.

"Creep's been watching you for a while now." L muttered to their partner. "Been smirking over here like you're a cut in the butcher's window."

MC watched, and sure enough, as soon as the latest browsing customer had moved away from the garish wares, the merchant's eyes sought them out, a filthy smile soon following.

"You can't stop them looking L." They reasoned, despite the crawl of disgust that shuddered down their spine.

L huffed. "Want to bet?"

Osmund shook his head firmly. "Don't even go there kid. They wants to be a creep, then that's their own business. Unless they actually makes the stupid decision to actually do some, the only thing you'd be doing is making a headache for Vyla."

"He's right." Aveza said, emerging from between the dwindling shoppers, patting L's shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "Much as I don't want to swell his ego."

Her husband promptly stuck his tongue out, before retracting it and kissing his wife's hand.

"You two do realise you're adorable, right?" MC chuckled, happy for the distraction from the distant person's leering.

That seemed to give L an idea. Moving quickly, making sure the creepy twonk was looking, they reached up, tugged twice on MC's shoulder. Once they'd leant down to their level, L sound and roundly kiss their cheek.

Aveza chuckled as MC blushed. "Smooth."

A

The morning was bright, warm, and beautiful, and the fact that Erda and A spent the entirety of it tuck away in their little shop baffled Aveza. She was grateful, make no mistake. Thanks to their self imposed hibernation she was able to pick up the poultices she needed for Osmund's legs, the polished glass bottle gleaming on the counter, ready and waiting for her to collect. The convenience didn't stop her twinge of sympathy, watching as A gazed out the shop window.

At first Aveza thought they was looking longingly at the sunlight, but when she saw the true target of A's affection, she could help but chuckle.

"Still got it that bad, huh?" She asked, fishing around her coin pouch for the correct change, placing each bit down upon the counter with a light tap.

"They does indeed."

They both turned to the rear of the shop, into the gloom of the numerous storage shelves and cupboards, where old mother Erda sifted through her collection of scales.

"Erda!" A admonished, a cherry red blush staining their cheeks.

The old woman grinned sharply, peering round the corner of the furniture at her young, flustered apprentice, looking over the rims of her wiring silver spectacles. "Am I wrong?" She asked.

A hesitated, seemingly on the very edge of denying it, before falling back. With a resigned sigh, and a tiny shake of their head, they let their teacher take the victory.

"Oh how you must suffer Erda." Aveza lamented loudly, offering A a sympathetic smile. "All these young people in love, it must be simply awful."

Erda's cackle rang through the shop and A blush got all the deep, reaching all the way to the tips of the poor dear's ears, though beneath all their embarrassment Aveza couldn't help but notice a soft little smile.

In a singular moment all the humour drained from the young person's features, eyes locked on something beyond the windows.

Aveza turned sharply, unnerved by the sudden shift, her eyes scanning the busy market place for the source of A's distress. She didn't have to look far.

Just beyond the shop front, tucked with precision onto the narrow patch of free space, sat the stall of an unfamiliar merchant. The person's entire demeanour scream old city money, from the pristine blue of the stalls awning, to the fancy footing of the polished table they lay their wares upon.

Osmund had spied them on the way into town that morning, mumbled something about 'guild money', before urging their oxen over to the opposite side of the square.

The person in question was wholly absorbed in the process of trying to press their attentions on a decidedly uncomfortable MC, trapped between the overladen stall and the overeager merchant.

Aveza glanced back to A warily. "Now, don't do anything-"

But they was already round the counter, across the room, and through the door before she could finish her sentence.

"-rash." Aveza sighed, placing the remaining coins down on the counter and tucking the waiting salve into her bag, before following the young person out.

"Try to keep everyone in one piece." Erda called after her. "It's never easy to get blood out of the brickwork."

She sincerely hoped Erda was joking, but knowing the woman as well as she did...

"Leave them alone." A was stood between MC and the merchant, voice seemingly calm, though Aveza could see the tension in their posture. "They said no."

Aveza heard the gentle creak of familiar wheels, and allowed herself a little sigh of relief as Osmund rolled up beside her.

"Trouble?" He asked her softly, keeping his voice low so they might remain observers, for now.

"Maybe." She replied in kind. "Depends on what the idiot does next."

Said idiot seemed utterly oblivious to the situation, and instead of doing the sensible thing and backing off, or every the moral thing and apologising, the cocksure young person doubled down.

"Really now? Are you sure?" There was a sourness to their teasing tone, a threat given against the person who had interrupted their sport. "Maybe the lovely soul needs a little more persuasion."

"I really don't." MC said firmly. "I'm not interested."

"There." A pointedly glared at the merchant. "Now, as I said, leave them alone."

Soundly rejected, and Aveza theorised more than a little humiliated, the embittered person rounded on A. "Just who are you anyway? Why don't you mind your own business?"

Osmund groaned, slapping his palm against his forehead. "Really?" He hissed. "Read the room for the sake of all that is good..."

His wife patted his shoulder. "Deep breaths dear, you'll live longer."

"MC is my business. Just as much as I am their business." A stated, their usual good humour chipped away to jagged flint. "I'm their partner."

The idiot was going to start again, Aveza could see it coming a mile off. Thing is, something you should never do is rile up a cunningperson. Young as A was, apprentice as they may be, there was still more than enough knowledge and skill in them to lay this fool flat.

"an, MC?" She called, not having to change much to lay on a look of concern as the three of them turned to look at her and Osmund. "Could you help us get a hold of one of the Aldermen? Vyla said if we ever needed anything we should go through one of you?"

It worked, just like Aveza knew it would. Even a fool like this would know, in small town politics the Aldermen were the be all and end all. Manage to on their bad sides and you could kiss your business goodbye in a heartbeat. The merchant paled, quickly looking between A and MC, clearly working out the hinted importance of them both to the settlement, their connection to the power here, the risk involved in continuing to harass either one of them.

They both caught on to the ruse, A leading their partner back towards the shop and their friends, though Aveza and Osmund both noticed the stiffness in their stature remained.

K

Sorry. Too many spoilers to include this section...

[halfway-happyyy]

The one where Alexander takes his girl home to Sweden

First longer piece in a hot minute! inspired by this lovely ask. Thanks for looking, and as always feedback is always appreciated. 

“They'd like to meet you, kid.”

Silence followed his statement and her bleary gaze travelled upwards to a patch of dust particles dancing in a strip of light from the parted bedroom curtain. She knew immediately who he was referring to, but that didn't mean she had to make it easy for him.

“You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Alex. The list of people who'd like to meet me is long and painfully distinguished.”

Alexander nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, the subtle scruff of his beard ticklish against her delicate skin. His exasperated groan was almost inaudible. “My family, smart-ass.”

There it was.

Grace had known that this conversation was coming soon; it loomed above her head like a raincloud. She could sense it in the way he spoke of Sweden recently, could sense it in the way his ocean-blue eyes lit up at the mere mention of his brothers and sister. God, even just the idea of it was almost too intimidating to bear. Where she had come from a small, slightly broken family, he had been born into an inexplicably close and loving one. Though each of them led vastly different lives in vastly different areas of the world, they gathered amongst themselves in the beautiful country of Sweden multiple times throughout the year, and it would always be home base for him. She found the notion of it wonderful and jealousy-inducing in equal measure. She traced a feather-light fingertip down the bridge of his nose and marveled at the subtle flecks of gold amongst a sea of blue. Of all the things that she adored about his face, the deep creases next to his eyes were her favourite. They spoke novels of how much time the man spent smiling and the thought of it caused her heart to swell. “Your family doesn’t want to meet me, Alex. You want your family to meet me.” She murmured, finally.

Alexander clicked his tongue in mild protest. “That’s not true.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, brushing each of her knuckles with his lips. The warmth and sheer intimacy of the touch caused her to shiver violently and he grinned against her hand. Brushing a stray piece of hair from her face, he gazed at her for a while and finally whispered, “Come to Sweden with me, Grace.”

And partly because his soft voice bore the weight of recent sleep- but mostly because she always did have a particularly difficult time saying no to him, she squeezed his hand thrice and nodded her head. “Okay Alex.”

~

“We’re here, kid.” Alexander’s lips at her temple helped to rouse her from her gravol-induced coma and she hugged her sweater tighter to her frame as the temperature of the plane became apparent to her. He stood from his seat and stretched his arms high above his head to limber up after the lengthy flight. Opening the overhead compartment with ease, he brought down her carry-on and a single, worn duffle bag- the only piece of luggage he ever traveled with, and smiled expectantly at her. “You all set?”

Grace stifled a yawn and nodded her head, a slow, sleepy smile in place on her features. “Lead the way, my love.” She had expected a certain amount of fanfare upon exit of the terminal- she could not recount a time in recent memory where there had not been a fury of cameras and photographers upon arrival. Strangely, and most welcomely, Arlanda airport was completely void of both.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Alexander grinned.

She struggled to keep up with his hasty stride though the terminals- something she lovingly referred to as his airport walk. “It’s lovely.” She mused.

It was late into the evening when they finished grabbing her bag from the carousel and stepped out into the balmy Stockholm evening. Alexander’s brother Sam was already waiting for them a few cars ahead in the cue, leant against the side of a dark sedan, one long, denim-clad leg crossed over the other. “Hej hej!” He called out to them and stood from the car to wrap his arms around Alexander. They parted a few moments later, laughing at something indistinguishable. “Good to see you again, brother.” Sam beamed. “And you must be Grace…” He turned to her; a long pair of arms beckoned her forward for an embrace which she happily obliged. She was amused to discover that like Alexander, she needed to reach on tiptoes to hug the younger Skarsgård properly. She had known them to be a tall breed of men, but this? Sam broke away to gesture to the vehicle with a toothy grin. “Let’s get you two home, hm? Mum can’t wait another hour longer.”

Though the inky evening sky cloaked all of Stockholm in darkness, Grace was in utter awe of the city in which she was currently being given a rapid grand-tour of. Alexander pointed out important buildings on his left, and Sam managed to cover everything on the right side of the vehicle. She remained dazzled by the bright, twinkling lights, and was amazed at how breathtaking the city was at night. “Just wait until tomorrow, Grace.” Sam glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and grinned.

“We’re here, my love.” Alexander uttered for the second time that evening, as the vehicle rolled to a halt in front of their mother’s house in the south of the city. A quick glance at the clock above the car radio told her that it was just past twelve thirty in the morning, and she was surprised to see My wide awake and waiting on the porch for them. Grace swallowed hard and found that her mouth was suddenly void of all moisture, nerves churning in her belly like clothing in a washing machine. Sensing the sudden shift in her mood, Alexander exited the car and came around to her side, opening the door and crouching down to her level. “Look at me kid.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her slightly clammy palm. “No need to be nervous, hm? They’re going to love you.”

Taking a deep breath, Grace smiled down at him and ventured around to the boot of the car where Sam was in the process of hauling out their luggage. “Can I help you with those?” She offered.

Sam shook his head, that same boyish grin from an hour ago still split his face in two. “Nah, there’s not much here,” He gestured over to his mother with a jut of his chin. “Besides, she’s been waiting weeks to see you both. Go on.”

Alexander waited for her at the bottom of the stone path, his hand outstretched and poised to take hers. They traversed the path together, the warmth from his hand radiated into hers and helped to calm her frayed nerves immensely. “Hi mum.” Alexander grinned when they reached her.

My’s beautiful face broke into a wide grin and Grace knew right then that Sam had come by that wonderful smile honestly. Their mother, confusingly short in comparison to her two sons, reached up on tiptoes to cradle Alexander’s face in her hands and kiss both of his cheeks passionately. He reveled in her touch, but when his time was up, he stood back to make room for Grace. My embraced her exactly as she had her son, and though she could most certainly attribute it to impending jet lag, a lump of raw emotion rose in the hollow of her throat as My kissed her cheeks. She pulled back and gave Grace's arms a warm squeeze. “So happy to finally have you both here. Please, come in.”

Once situated inside the cozy, utterly lived-in home, Grace immediately felt the tension dissipate from her limbs. On her way back to the living room after putting away her belongings in the spare room, she found herself stopped in awe in the hallway. Pictures of the family adorned almost every square inch of wall space, and inexplicably, Grace's throat constricted and she felt the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyes again.

“There you are,” Alexander smiled when he spotted her. Wordlessly, he settled beside her and reached for her hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “You okay, kid?”

She turned to him, saltwater glittering threateningly in the depths of her eyes, and smiled. “There's so much love here, Alex.” She trailed a finger over the edge of a wooden picture frame. The photograph inside depicted six beautiful, smiling children, each of varying ages. “It's so palpable. It's in the very air we breathe right now… like magic.” Alexander hummed contentedly and bent forward to kiss the top of her head. “I want a home like this someday…” She mused.

Alexander squeezed her hand thrice and placed another kiss to the top of her head. “Someday you will.”

After a midnight snack of lingonberry jam and toast and a glass of wine to wind down from the day’s events, Grace drifted off to sleep on Alexander’s shoulder at the kitchen table. She had fought it for as long as her body would let her, but the calming lilt of muted conversation in their native tongue caused her eyelids to grow increasingly heavy until they eventually gave in to slumber altogether. Alexander must have carried her to their room, because when her eyes opened six and a half hours later, she was tucked up in the guestroom bed. Her desire to move had been nonexistent until the scent of coffee and fresh pastries found her, and her mouth watered hungrily for them. Stretching her arms above her head, she stifled a yawn and shivered as her bare feet touched the cool, hardwood flooring. She took a few moments to study the room in which she would be spending the next two weeks. The walls were washed in a pale, robins-egg blue and with an unexpected pang, it reminded her of her grandparent’s guest room in their old house back home. She gazed at the folk artwork adorning the walls, and at the wicker furniture dispersed around the room and she decided then that this could be her home for rest of her life, and she wouldn't complain one bit about it. Changing into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, she threw a knit cardigan over her exposed arms and padded out into the hallway outside her door. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but she stopped again in front of the dozens of picture frames and gazed at them for a long while.

Grace peered at a black and white photograph of Alexander as a child, grinning wide and standing tall above a younger looking My. “And just imagine that he ended being arguably the most attractive one out of all of us.” A beautiful voice, utterly melodic as it flowed from her mouth- bore a teasing lilt and caused Grace to startle on the spot.

She glanced over at the woman next to her, a spitting image of her mother, she had seen photos of her face several times in the past, but nothing could prepare her for the natural beauty that Alexander’s sister possessed. It was ethereal- like sunshine through a glass window and Grace smiled at her. “No, I doubt anyone would argue with me if I said that you won that one hands down.”

Eija tilted her head back as laughter bubbled up from the base of her throat like a pretty song. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Grace.” They chatted contentedly for the next few minutes before the allure of coffee and food became too strong, and Eija escorted Grace to the kitchen. Alexander was seated at the end of the wooden table, arms crossed over his t shirt clad chest, and in deep conversation with Sam. “How do you take your coffee, Grace?” Eija asked and reached on tiptoes for a mug at the back of the open cupboard.

“Uh, black please,” Grace could not make out what was being said, but the tone of her boyfriend’s voice had changed drastically over the course of only a few seconds and she frowned. “Are they arguing?” She whispered.

Eija dropped back onto the balls of her feet and shook her head no, her ruby-red lips quirked up into a half-smirk. “No. But they are talking politics.” She set to work brewing what to Grace, smelled like the world’s best cup of coffee and winked at her, her glassy blue eyes glittering mischievously in the bright, sunlit kitchen. “Just wait until dinner tonight… we are a large, highly opinionated family and there is plenty more where that came from.”

Grace's day had been so packed with activity that she had hardly been allotted moment to agonize over the looming family dinner. She knew deep down that there was nothing to be nervous about- that she intended on spending the rest of her life with Alexander, and that if she was lucky enough, his family would become her family too. But there was a lot of them, and the pressure to make a good impression weighed heavily on her. “You okay over there?” Alexander sidled up behind her in front of the full-length guest room mirror, resting his chin atop her head. “You’ve got your 'over-thinking-everything' face on.” She frowned back at him. “It’s still the most beautiful face in the world, kid. But I’ve known you far too long now to know when something’s on your mind.”  

She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him. She couldn't pin-point exactly when the change had occured, but she could read his face like her favourite book now. Knew where scars had started, knew the precise location of dustings of freckles. She knew what to say to make him smile, what to say to make him frown. Somehow, the stars had aligned, and she had met him and now here she was, in his home country, moments away from meeting the entirety of his family. She took a deep, steadying breath and tilted her face up to kiss the underside of his stubbled jaw. “I love you Alex.”

“I love you endlessly, Grace.”

She had been slightly taken aback at the lack of distance that existed between Alexander’s parents’ houses. She had known that they had been able to remain better friends than ever after the divorce but living within walking distance of each other seemed unheard of to Grace. Perhaps that was because her parents could hardly manage a simple hello to each other after the dust had settled.

Stellan Skarsgård’s silhouette- stark against the bright light emanating from the house behind him, stood leant against the front pillar of his porch, a full glass of red wine wedged within his grasp, which he lifted in greeting when he caught site of the emerging clan. He embraced Alexander, Eija, and My as if it was the last time he would ever have the chance to do it again, and when his gaze fell on Grace’s, he handed his wine to Alexander and pulled her in for a near-crushing embrace. When he drew back, he was absolutely beaming at her. “Grace, it is an absolute pleasure to finally put a face to the name that our Alex here, has spoken novels of. Please, come in and make yourself at home.” It was an undeniably busy house, chock-full of intentional laughter, bits and pieces of Swedish conversation, and the enticing scent of a mouth-watering feast. Grace was sat wedged between Alexander and Valter at the dinner table and was awed at how much the youngest of the boys resembled Eija, and she was surprised to note that his sass rivalled hers as well. Once the chatter had dwindled to a level white noise, Stellan rose from his seat at the head of the table and cleared his throat. “Ehm, I don’t normally make these kinds of announcements before a dinner, but tonight is a special one.” He gestured with his near-empty glass to Grace, and she felt her cheeks burn hot under the sudden onslaught of attention. “Tonight, we drink to good health, we drink to family, and we drink to our lovely, newfound Grace. Cheers, everyone.”

“Cheers to you, my love.” Alexander whispered and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Grace ate until she could not fathom scooping one more morsel of delicious food onto her plate, and she leaned back and took a deep breath, all too content to watch everyone converse and unwind from the wonderful meal they had all just experienced. After dessert, Alexander excused himself to join a heated debate at the end of the table with Eija and Valter. To her surprise, Stellan took the empty seat next to her, wordlessly topping up her empty glass. “My and I worked hard to teach them everything they know,” He murmured, blue gaze scanning the happy faces around him. “We tried to instill in them as children to question everything- and each one of them has become perspicacious, opinionated, conversationalists because of it.”

The way he spoke of his children- the obvious love and adoration he had for them caused Grace’s heart to swell in her chest and she smiled softly at him. “You both must be so proud of them.”

Stellan’s eyes twinkled in the low light of the lamps scattered around the dining room and he nodded his head slowly. “Very proud. Always.” He took another sip of his wine and turned to Grace. “I know I mentioned it already this evening but having you here in Sweden really is such a treat for all of us,” Grace’s cheeks grew pink again and she took another hearty sip of wine, savoring the slighty bitter tannin on her tongue before she swallowed, and offered him up a small smile. “Alex is an extraordinary creature, Grace. Loud and boisterous- and deeply sensitive. Almost to a fault. But humor and compassion for other people beyond all measure. Just the absolute best parts of his mother and I,” He finished off the rest of his glass and set it against the wooden tabletop with a dull thud. “He’s never brought a partner home to Sweden before, and I can’t help but be elated that it’s you he’s chosen to bring to us.”

Grace verged the edge of speechless at the sudden revelation and she swallowed hard, the kind words almost too much to comprehend. “The pleasure has been all mine, truly.” Before getting up to leave, Stellan bent down to her level and pressed a quick kiss to the apple of her cheek.

Alexander appeared next to Grace an hour later, the apples of his cheeks rosy from happiness, and the wine consumed. "Come dance with me."

Grace had just finished an in-depth conversation with Eija and cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Right now?”

He nodded his head, his sandy blonde hair disheveled now and hanging over an eye. “Yes, right now.” He extended a hand out for her to take, which she obliged, hesitantly. He led her to a second room off the one they had just been in, and a record player sat playing on a glass table in the corner.

“Your lips are stained purple with syrah,” She giggled.

Alexander brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you having a good night, kid?”

Grace smiled and rested her cheek against his chest as they swayed along to a Bob Dylan song in the background. She reveled in the heat emanating from him, and in the familiar feeling of his heartbeat against her cheek. “I’m having a wonderful night, Alex. Sweden- your family, are a dream.” The opening chords to Girl from the North Country could be heard above the crackle of the record player, and Grace gazed up at Alexander from under enviously long lashes. “God, I love this song,” She murmured wistfully. “Hope to dance to it my wedding someday.”

Alexander held her tighter to him, oblivious to Stellan and My who were now stood side by side and watching them from the other room. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle earnestly, knowing that one day soon he would be making that dream a reality. “Someday you will, Grace.”

@awaterfalls

[lailyn]

This Magical Journey Called Multiple (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Loki/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Drama, Idiots In Love, Mpreg

Summary: Loki thought he had struck gold this lifetime around, having found not one, but two loves at once. This new life he is carrying could only be a blessing, so why isn't everybody happy?

“I am not injured,” Loki insisted. “It was the heat, it must have gotten to me.”

“It’s still a good idea to take it easy, Bambi. Heat stroke is one of those things that can hit you from out of nowhere,” Tony said.

At Stephen’s mildly-impressed look, Tony gave a modest shrug. “We’ve been together how long? Of course I’ve picked up a few things.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “At least something good has come out of it.”

Ignoring Tony’s indignant ‘Hey!’, Stephen conjured a tall, cool glass of water and offered it to Loki, who looked all manner of singed save for his armour. “But Tony’s right. There may not be external burn injuries, but we humans are about seventy percent water, and I’m guessing you’re not that far off either.”

“I’m not a child,” Loki grumbled. Nevertheless, he dutifully accepted the drink and took a few long gulps, stopping abruptly when a sudden nauseous feeling assaulted his senses the moment the water hit his stomach. “Tony, please don’t make that face. It’s making me want to do things.”

“I can’t help it. It’s my fault. I should have - ”

“No should haves, could haves,” Loki interrupted. “Stop it. Shit happens.”

“Language,” Tony admonished lightly but his body language was still steeped in guilt.

“Guess I’ve picked up a few things too,” Loki murmured, nodding gratefully at Stephen as his husband stepped in to wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Not only was the Sorcerer Supreme a good lay in bed, he was a mind-reader too. Loki sure got lucky this time around.

Tony straightened up a little in Stephen’s one-armed embrace. “Glad you guys had my back or I would have been smoked brisket.”

At the mention of brisket, the nausea reared its monstrous head again and Loki gagged.

“Let’s get you out of the sun.” Stephen was beginning to sound worried now. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Loki said, swallowing compulsively. Before either of his overbearing husbands could argue, (they were always so noisy when they fussed) he corrected himself, “I will be fine.”

“Right,” Tony snorted. “Nice try. Come on, up. Next time, don’t skip breakfast.”

Stephen snorted even louder. “And the frying-pan said to the kettle, 'Avant, black-browes'.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but it can’t be good,” Tony grunted, nearly toppling under Loki’s weight, who really was more unsteady than he was letting on. “Will you boom-boom-whoosh us a portal already?”

Stephen shook his head and wrapped his arm around Loki’s waist, taking on some of the burden.

“I can walk,” Loki whined.

“Sure you can,” Stephen said kindly. “We just happen to do it better.”

__________________________________________________________

Tony didn’t know how anybody could sleep with the AC blowing full-blast in their face but Loki did just that, and for twelve hours straight too. Their not-strictly-human husband had never slept for such a long stretch of time and it could only be a testament to his exhaustion.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him to give Loki some privacy while he freshened up in the bathroom, his worried eyes met Stephen’s equally troubled gaze.

“Think he’s coming down with something?” Tony asked quietly.

“He seemed fine yesterday when the call came, and he was fighting fit," Stephen mulled as they walked back toward the kitchen together. “Wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he took down those Doombots like they were nothing. He did that flashy move of his, you know the one where he’s like ribbon-dancing in the sky, except his ribbons turned into deadly blades the minute they came into contact with a Bot.”

“I have to take your word for it, I guess. I was kinda busy keeping a few buildings standing,” Stephen said enviously, as it was a sight he wouldn’t have minded seeing himself. Watching Loki in battle was always a spectacle, even back when they were still rivals.

Tony must have misconstrued the envy in his voice and decided that a little teasing was in order. “Aw, I’m sure you were great, honey.” He reached out to squeeze Stephen’s bicep. “Feeling a little sore there?”

“I held them up by magic but thank you for asking,” Stephen said dryly. “I wouldn’t mind a massage though, if you’re offering me one.”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in my tight schedule.” Kisses stolen in passing whilst walking down hallways were often sweet, made sweeter still by the relief Tony could feel bleeding through their locked lips. It had not been too long ago that they had almost lost Loki to that terrible illness, and it was that same shared fear that had plagued both Stephen and him since yesterday.

As they sat back down to their now-cold breakfast, he could see just how much Stephen’s face had brightened. The appetite that was almost killed by JARVIS’ mid-meal interruption to inform them that Loki was finally awake came back with a vengeance, and Tony shoveled his eggs into his mouth like a man starving.

It was after a few bites that he deemed his hunger momentarily sated enough to broach another issue that had been weighing on him.

"How was Loki...the night before last?" Tony asked tentatively.

It was an arrangement only recently agreed upon that they made use of the ten bedrooms in the penthouse, with each claiming a bedroom of his own and still having the freedom to choose where and with whom to spend the night. It came about after Stephen's odd hours and Tony's unpredictable work frenzies clashed with Loki's need for absolute silence when sleeping.

Tony had never met a lighter sleeper in his life. So when Stephen got called out on Sorcerer Supreme business for three nights in a row, it did not surprise either of them when Loki, tired of the interruptions to his beauty sleep, set fire to the bed.

Tony wished the mercurial God of Chaos could spare the custom-made, eiderdown-covered Alaskan king bed...alas, new beds he could always buy, but there was only one of Loki.

"Sleep in separate bedrooms! It's the secret to a happy marriage, don't you ever watch The Crown?" Pepper had said, rubbing salt into the wound the next day when he called her up the next day to moan. "God knows you have enough rooms to sleep in a different one for every night of the month."

Which was an exaggeration of course, for only the top floor of the penthouse had four bedrooms on the same floor, one for each of them, and the biggest, most lavish one reserved for when they needed to spend time together as a proper throuple.

Clearly perturbed by Tony's question, Stephen carefully set his fork back on his plate. "Could you be more specific?"

"Did he seem a little...impatient to you?"

"Impatient?" Stephen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know…" Tony drawled, "More...urgent. Demanding."

"You mean horny," Stephen deadpanned.

"Shhh. You know he doesn't like that word!" Tony whispered loudly. "It depreciates his aesthetic."

Stephen chuckled. "You can say horny, Tony. Loki's not here."

"And now he is," a sultry voice suddenly spoke from behind, and Stephen nearly yelped.

"Loki!" He gasped. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Loki said coolly, sliding into the empty chair beside Tony, to whom he directed his next question. "So what else does he say about me when I'm not here?"

"Only the most flattering things, sweetness." Tony rubbed his hand up and down Loki's back. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm drunk on sleep." Loki's nostrils flared as he tried to kill the oncoming yawn but failed. "But not bad. You?"

"Nothing an Advil or two can't fix." Tony reached out a hand to stop Loki from stealing a piece of toast off his plate. "I think Stephen's wanting to take your spinal fluid or brain tissue or something first."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Just your blood will do."

"Why?" Loki whined. "I hate those adamantium needles, they itch like a bitch."

Tony let out a scandalous whisper. "Language!"

"I want to make sure there's no electrolyte imbalance and that your sugar level's okay. You were vomiting quite profusely yesterday," Stephen said,

"I'm not anymore," Loki pointed out. "I feel absolutely fine."

"It's just a precaution, Loki," Stephen tried again but before he could say anything further, Loki held up a regal hand.

"And I can tell you with absolute certainty that my blood sugar level is very low because I am very, very hungry and if you do not feed me within the next thirty seconds I will eat your face," he growled. "Literally."

Stephen slowly, wordlessly, slid his plate across the table.

"Thank you, Stephen," Loki said sweetly  before attacking the egg-white and quinoa omelette with gusto. He swallowed the first bite and made a face. "This is nasty."

A heated debate and a number of mortal threats later, Loki was well on his way out the door. “Anytime today, Stark. Get a move on.”

“Can’t you go?” Tony pleaded. “I’ve never done my own grocery shopping before.”

Stephen looked at him incredulously. “You don’t have to do anything. You just have to prepare the money when he asks and make sure he doesn’t buy out every stall he happens to like.”

Loki tapped his foot impatiently. “Shall I go by myself then?”

“No!” Both Stephen and Tony said in unison.

“Nice try, Bambi,” Tony added. To Stephen, “You owe me.”

“This and more.” Stephen kissed Tony quickly. “Bring him back in one piece if you can. Oh, and I’m speed-dial number one, two and three on both your phones.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Stephen's eyes disappeared behind his smile. “Loki, babe? Can you come here for a sec?”

Loki marched back to where Stephen and Tony were still huddled by the kitchen counter. “What is it now?”

Stephen dropped an effervescent electrolyte tablet into a glass of water. “Drink this before you go. You need to replenish your electrolytes.”

Loki groaned. “Stephen, I am electrolyted up to my eyeballs. Enough, please.”

“Today’s going to be a hot day, according to the weather forecast,” Stephen warned. “Can’t risk you getting dehydrated again.”

“It can’t possibly be hotter than yesterday," Loki said. He turned to Tony. "You need to figure out how to increase your heat resistance to Doom's fire-breathing Bots, I can't be covering you all the time. What if I'm not there?"

Stephen’s gaze vacillated between his two lovers in alarm. “Are we expecting any trouble today?”

“No, it was simply a theoretical question,” Loki said patiently. “Tony needs to build better suits.”

“And you need to see a sleep hygienist,” Tony said, just as sweetly. “Can’t have you burning any more beds. We are living in a high-rise, you know.”

Loki shrugged. “It’s not like both of you can’t fly.”

Stephen chuckled, “He’s got a point.”

“Whose side are you on?” Tony grumbled to himself. “Are we going or what?”

Stephen sighed. If he had not made prior arrangements to visit Kamar-Taj that day, he would have been more than happy to take Tony’s place.

He kissed Loki, a tad harder than usual. "Be careful, you two."

Loki laughed. "We're going to the market, Stephen, not off-world to another planet."

“Thank you for the reassurance, Loki.”

Loki’s kiss took Stephen by surprise, not so much the hard pinch Loki gave his cheek. “You fret too much.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s sweet.” Loki’s green eyes glinted. “Makes me want to eat your face every time.”

__________________________________________________________

Strolling the gorgeous Botanical Garden in the Bronx at this time of year was...interesting. Being public figures, it was a given that they would be recognised, but most everybody gave them a wide berth, wholly content with admiring from afar.

If Tony had reservations before, they disappeared quickly enough. Loki’s excitement and appreciation for the diverse arrays of artisan foods was contagious, and as they went from stall to stall perusing the seasonal produce on offer, Tony found himself in danger of doing the very thing he had promised Stephen he would keep Loki from doing.

“That was the best goat cheese I’ve ever tasted,” Tony gushed, arms laden with carrier bags full of cheeses, preserves and a variety of herb-infused olive oils. “You sure this is enough?”

“Nope,” Loki said. “But next week we can get Stephen to come with us and buy some more.”

“Sounds like a plan. Your ice cream’s melting.”

Loki held it out and Tony took a lick. “That’s yum.”

“You can have it if you want,” Loki said, sounding suddenly faint.

Tony frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Loki took in a few deep breaths, his face suddenly the colour of parchment. “I don’t know.”

The ice cream cone slipped out of his hand onto the ground when he abruptly bent at the waist, propping himself on his knees. “Just...give me a moment.”

Tony fumbled with the bags, managing to shift them all onto one hand, freeing the other so he could take Loki’s arm. He led his husband to a bench and sat him down.

“Do you feel sick again?” Tony asked, palming Loki’s forehead. His hand came away clammy. “ Do you need some water?”

Loki nodded his head to the first question, and shook his head to the second. His throat bobbed up and down erratically as though he was trying very hard not to lose the content of his stomach in front of all these people.

“I’m calling Stephen.”

“No!” Loki lunged to try to snatch the phone out of Tony’s hand, but the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain like a knife to his stomach. He doubled over and moaned in pain.

“Loki.” Tony dropped onto the bench and placed a hand on the small of Loki’s back. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stabbed the speed dial on his phone and began to pace. “Come on, come on, pick up.”

By a stroke of fortune, Stephen answered before the first dial tone ended, his “Yeah?” a cross between irritable and amused.

“We have a situation,” Tony said tensely.

“That bad, huh?”

Stephen’s indifference was expected given Tony’s propensity for drama, but today was not the day. "Strange, I’m not kidding. I think you need to come get us.“

"Loki may not have the patience for fresh produce and mingling but I’m sure I can trust you to keep him from terrorising the poor farmers for a few hours,” Stephen said, letting out a small chuckle at the imagery. “Or has he stabbed someone already?”

Tony remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Tony?” Stephen began to feel uneasy. “Please tell me Loki did not actually stab someone?”

“Loki’s not feeling well."

There was a sudden pause. When next Stephen spoke, his voice sounded strange. "Well, come on home.”

Loki lifted his head, as though he was listening in on the conversation all along.

“Can you walk?” Tony asked quietly. He helped Loki to his feet, only to regret it a second later. He did not think it was possible for Loki’s face to go that many shades paler, but it did.

Tony cradled the phone to his ear and quickly pushed his swaying husband back onto the bench. “Yeah…that’s a negative.”

Another pause ensued; thankfully it was a shorter one this time.

“Stay where you are.”

TBC

[purple-cat-demon]

Forever Starts Under the Ginkgo Tree: Part 5

Genre: domestic fluff

Pairing: Gavin x Hazel

Word Count: 2,746 (long chapter this time)

Warnings: mild harassment

Let's get this trip started! 🤣 Enjoy and thank you for your patience~

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

~~Friday 5:40pm A.E.C.~~

“No, no, NoOoO! Where is it?”

The lament came from Hazel’s desk as she frantically looked through her computer files for the recent proposal to send to Victor. Anna rushed over to her boss’s cubicle.

“What happened?”

Hazel looked at her colleague with tears of despair in her eyes.

“I can’t find the proposal to send to Victor! It was here earlier and now I can’t find it!”

Hazel looked at her phone, and saw the time, causing her to panic even more.

‘I’m gonna be late to get home,’ she screamed internally.

“Mmm, it’s gotta be here somewhere, did you label it something different than usual,” Anna questioned. Hazel scratched her head, wracked her brain a bit; then a shout came from Willow’s desk.

“Hey Boss, is this it?”

Both Hazel and Anna ran over to Willow; Hazel scanned the file on Willow’s computer. Relief hit the frazzled woman’s face; she gave her colleague a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, Willow!”

“No problem Boss, but it doesn’t look complete, did you not save it properly?”

Hazel did a double take, eyes widened with fear; after looking it over thoroughly, she hung her head in defeat.

“Dammit… Quick, Willow, send that to me,” she ordered as she rushed back to her computer. As soon as the file popped up, Hazel clicked on it and typed furiously to finish it. After having Anna look it over and make some small corrections here and there, Hazel sent it off to Victor for review.

It was now 6:30pm, and Hazel was apologizing profusely to Gavin via text over being late. Thankfully, her boyfriend had the bags packed and ready to go.

*Ding*

An email notification came through on Hazel’s computer, to which she promptly clicked on it. It was Victor approving the report and wishing her a good weekend. She was puzzled over how Victor knew that she was going out of town, but paid no mind as she packed up her purse and told her colleagues goodbye.

As she made her way to the subway station, her phone rang with a picture of her and Gavin on the screen.

-Hi, my love, I am so sorry for being so late!-

-It’s okay, it’s okay. Where are you now?-

-I’m on my way to the platform for our station’s stop.-

-Wait, how about you just meet me at the platform for the bullet train?-

-What about the luggage?-

-It’s only two bags, I can carry them to the station, no problem.-

-Hhn, okay, what was the platform again?-

-It’s platform twelve, just wait for me there. I’m on my way now, see you soon.-

-Okay, my love, see you soon!-

Hazel meandered through the immense labyrinth that was this particular subway station until she found platform twelve on the upper levels. There she waited against a wall away from the evening rush, right next to a security kiosk. As she was going through her Moments App, a suave looking businessman sauntered up to her.

“Hello there, pretty lady, would you be interested in modeling?”

Hazel looked up with an annoyed look on her face.

“No, thank you.”

“Wait, wait, at least hear me out, yeah?”

Hazel glanced over at the security kiosk, the guard was keeping an eye on her.

“I said, ‘No,’” she didn’t even spare the guy a glance back when she said that. Just as the guy was about to retort, a familiar voice rang clear in the bustling station.

“She said, ‘NO,’” Gavin had appeared behind the guy, with a look that would stop even a mob boss in their tracks. The guy spun around and composed himself in an attempt to intimidate the officer. He paled when Gavin brought out his badge.

“Scram…,” Gavin seethed. As soon as the guard saw Gavin’s badge, he came over and started questioning the guy. Hazel gave a sigh of relief when the guard took the guy away.

“Are you okay?”

She turned to her boyfriend, “yup, I’m just glad you got here when you did.”

Gavin put his arm around her then glanced up at the information screen.

“Our train will be here any minute, let’s go line up.”

“Mhm!” Hazel beamed at him as she took her bag from him and walked over to the loading area. The sleek bullet train stopped smoothly at the platform; doors opening with an audible ‘whoosh’ as people filed out of the cars. Hazel and Gavin boarded the train and found seats toward the middle of the train car. Gavin placed the bags overhead as Hazel settled into the seat next to the window. She stifled a yawn as she looked out the window, gazing at Loveland City all lit up for the night.

“It’s going to be a two hour ride, if you want to sleep a bit then go for it,” Gavin mentioned as he looked his tired girlfriend over.

“But then you’ll still be awake…”

“It’s okay, I got more rest than you did anyway, I’ll wake you up when we’re close.”

A muffled grunt in protest came from his girlfriend; he just smiled tenderly at her, earning him a defeated sigh from her.

“If you’re okay with it…,” she trailed off as the train started moving. Hazel wrapped her arm around his arm and used his shoulder as a pillow. She found sleep right away as Gavin looked through his phone, confirming a booked reservation for a restaurant on Saturday night.

The two hours apparently flew by because the next thing Hazel knew was Gavin waking her up.

“Hey,” he softly called out to her, slightly shaking her arm, “our stop is coming up.”

She quickly composed herself as Gavin got up to get the bags down from overhead.

“We should go wait by the entrance,” he said.

“Mhm,” she replied, still a little groggy from sleep. She then got up, took her bag from Gavin and headed to the entrance with him in tow. The small box that was in his coat pocket fell out and into the aisle. An elderly woman noticed and picked it up, calling after the young man.

“Excuse me, young man.”

Gavin turned to see the woman holding the small box.

“You dropped this,” she said, smiling sweetly. Gavin’s eyes widened in realization as he patted his coat pocket, then proceeded to stride over to the woman.

“Thank you so very much,” he expressed his gratitude profusely. The woman winked and smiled at him,

“Good luck, young man.”

Gavin smiled and nodded, then made his way back to Hazel, shoving the small box in his pant pocket this time.

“What did you drop,” his girlfriend inquired.

“Ah, my train pass,” he fibbed, hoping his slight flush would go unnoticed by her. They disembarked the train and wandered through the station, finding the nearest exit to the surface. From there, Gavin pulled out his phone and punched in the hotel’s address. Thankfully, it was only a twenty minute walk from the station; plus they were traveling light in regards to luggage.

As they walked through the somewhat deserted area, they kept their eyes open for any restaurants that were still open at 9:45pm. All seemed lost and they were ready to find a convenience store for their dinner, when they turned on the street their hotel was on. A noodle shop was still open and served as a welcoming beacon to the hungry couple. Three other customers were enjoying some late night food as well. The cook gestured to the two of them to sit anywhere. Settling on a table for two by the window, the young couple sat down and looked over the menus in front of them.

Hazel made a mental prediction of Gavin choosing the spicy beef noodles after she saw it listed. Moments later the cook came by to take their orders.

“What can I get you two,” he asked while setting some hot tea down for them. Gavin gestured for Hazel to go first; she flustered a moment but soon chose the cold soba noodles. As predicted, Gavin did choose the spicy beef noodles; Hazel smiled at his choice.

“All right, I’ll get those cooked up for ya,” the cook chirped, and went to the kitchen. Hazel took a sip of the hot green tea and lightly sighed; content with finally getting to their destination.

“You okay, my love,” a question came from across the table. Hazel turned her gaze from the window to Gavin; her smile dispelling the concern from his face.

“More than okay, I’m just so happy to be here, with you.”

Hazel clearly saw the slight tinge of red his ears took on under the shop's lighting.

She giggled a little, "and what are you so flustered about," she coyly inquired. He coughed and went back to shipping his tea. Hazel pulled out her phone to see where the hotel was in regards to the noodle shop. When she saw how close it was on the map, she looked out the window and saw the hotel’s lighted sign across the street, only a few doors down.

“We can come here for lunch too, since it’s so close to the hotel,” she said, pointing out the window towards their hotel. Gavin was about to reply in agreement when their food arrived at the table. The spicy noodles smelled wonderful, and for a brief moment, Hazel regretted her cold soba noodle dish; but quickly remembered the spice wreaking havoc on her stomach the last time she ate them. So she happily started dipping her soba noodles in the dashi sauce that accompanied them.

“Mhm!”

“I take it your food is good,” Gavin inquired, smiling at his girlfriend. The furious nodding of her head confirmed this; he chuckled at her reaction.

“Then we’ll definitely come back before we head home,” he said assuredly.

“It looks like you two enjoyed your meals, there’s nothing left,” the cook said brightly as he took the empty dishes from the table. He returned with the bill, to which Gavin already had his debit card out for.

“Heeey, didn’t we agree that I would take care of the food for this trip?”

Gavin thought for a moment over Hazel’s protest.

“Hmm, I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he replied with a mischievous smile on his face.

She puffed out her cheeks in response to his devious behavior.

“I told you, I want to spoil you on this trip,” he reached out to touch her hand, “please let me.”

“But don’t you do that everyday,” she pointed out, blushing vividly while looking out the window.

“Yes, but this weekend is special…,” his voice trailed off.

Hazel side-eyed her boyfriend, cheeks still puffed out.

“Oh? And what makes this weekend special?”

He flushed scarlet and cleared his throat.

“Uh, b-because it’s been a while since we had a weekend to ourselves,” he replied, trying to maintain his composure.

They bid the cook goodnight and headed out towards their hotel, hand in hand. Their hotel had a modern contemporary feel in the lobby, which made Hazel super curious about the room itself. Gavin never actually showed her the room he booked, so it was going to be a surprise for sure. With the key cards obtained, they headed towards the elevators, only to walk right past them and through the glass doors leading into a courtyard. As if almost sensing her confusion, Gavin explained while walking to their room,

“Sorry, the room won’t have the greatest of views, but it has something I thought was better.”

“Oh? What is it,” she eagerly asked.

“You’ll see,” he chuckled as they walked up to the last bungalow in the row. Hazel was taken aback slightly at the exclusivity of the bungalow. Gavin flipped on the light just inside in the entrance and made his way further in. The first thing Hazel noticed was the small kitchen on the right. Beyond that was a small dining table; and beyond that, was a king size bed next to the sliding glass doors to the back patio. Hazel sat down on the bed and flopped backwards.

“Aaaah~,” a satisfied sigh filled the room. Gavin turned on the lamp on the nightstand closest to the wall near the patio doors.

“Pleased with the room?”

Hazel shot up and turned towards Gavin, with a big smile on her face, “Mhm!”

“Wait, you haven’t seen the part that sold me on booking this room,” he said, walking towards a door that Hazel just now noticed.She hopped off the bed as Gavin opened the door. She barely made out what was in the room but then gasped when Gavin turned on a dim light to reveal a private hot springs bath.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, are you sure you don’t need help with this,” she gestured towards the bath, flabbergasted. Gavin just shot her a look of disbelief.

“Really, my love? I’d be offended if you tried to help out…”

Gavin’s expression changed to bewilderment when he saw tears in his girlfriend’s eyes.

“W-what’s wrong?”

She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

“Thank you so much! I was not expecting any of this,” she looked up and kissed him on the lips. He leaned into her kiss as his hands wandered up her back. He broke off the kiss then gently pressed his forehead to hers.

“You want to try it out?"

His girlfriend’s eye sparkled at this temptation,

“Wait, what time is it?

Gavin fished his phone out from his pocket,

“It’s a little after eleven.”

Hazel contemplated for a moment, as if carefully weighing out the decisions.

“Hmmm, perhaps tomorrow?”

“Mm, okay, let’s get some sleep then,” he replied, turning off the light; with Hazel leading him back into the main room.

“Are you gonna use the bathroom first then,” he asked her.

“Mm, if you don’t mind~”

“Not at all, take your time, my love,” he said, kissing her forehead. She then rummaged through her duffle bag for her essentials, and made her way to the bathroom. Gavin walked over to the patio, unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped out into the brisk night. The inky black sky greeted him with a cloudless view of the stars shining brightly. He closed his eyes and made a silent prayer to the stars; in hopes that everything would go well tomorrow at the giant ginkgo tree. Just as some small anxieties were starting to settle in, the sudden appearance of his girlfriend caused him to jump slightly.

“You okay, babe,” she asked, lightly massaging his shoulders, “oof, you’re pretty tense!”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, almost melting into her healing touch, “just waiting for you.”

“Ah, yes, the bathroom is all yours now~”

He turned and kissed her temple, “okay, be right back,” he then headed off to the bathroom, closing the sliding glass door behind him, while Hazel got settled into bed. The sheets felt cool against her skin; she was thankful he packed a pajama set that gave some warmth on this cool night. Waiting for her boyfriend to join her, she decided to open up her Pokemon Go app. She immediately cried out, causing Gavin to poke his head out of the bathroom.

“You okay,” he asked, slightly panicked.

“Oh! Oh yes, an incredibly rare Pokémon hatched out of an egg just now. Sorry, my love~”

“As long as you’re okay,” he breathed a sigh of relief, then resumed his nighttime routine. A few minutes later, he emerged to join his girlfriend in bed, clad in his favorite pajama pants.

“What hatched that was so rare?”

“A Riolu,” she beamed, quite pleased with herself.

“Which one is that again,” he inquired, climbing into bed. She showed him the newly acquired Pokémon.

“Why is it named Ginkgo?”

Hazel giggled a little, “in honor of our trip.”

Gavin stifled a laugh, earning him a playful smack on the arm.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep,” he urged her while trying to take her phone. Though, he did regret over-reaching as his wound on the right side stung, causing him to hiss and cease his actions.

“You okay,” she inquired, halfway giggling but also concerned.

“Y-yeah, let’s sleep,” he carefully shifted over to give her a goodnight kiss before gingerly settling down under the covers. It was going to be a big day tomorrow, and they both needed their well deserved rest.

[tevanavernus]

Saudade - Chapter 1.

||Prologue||

Summary: "Saudade" - A nostalgic longing for a person or thing that was loved once, but is now lost.

Helmut Zemo's life was forever changed when the Avengers picked his country as a personal playground to fight their own creations. He would never regain the pieces of his life where he was a husband and a father of two. But the existence of new Super Soldiers might just bring him closer to that life he once had than he ever thought was possible. Madripoor holds secrets that even Baron Zemo does not know about.

Word Count: 6.2k

Helmut led them deeper into the garage where his personal collection was stored. Flicking the lights on, he was met with a couple of rows of his favourite antique cars. Just like he left them years ago. It wasn't all of his collection, the remaining couple of dozen were hidden away in other parts of the world. He made a mental note to thank to whoever kept the place cleaned and the cars taken care of. From an initial glance, all of them were spotless, just how he liked them.

"So our first move is grand theft auto?" Sam asked, crossing his arms the moment the light came on.

"These are mine. Collected by the family over the generations." Helmut explained as he pulled open the lid of the trunk. Some of the cars dated back all the way to pre-WW2. He could still remember his father showing him the collection when he was a young man himself. It was a tradition of a sort, in their family. A tradition that he carried on with Nic and was planning to do with Carl once he was older. Years down the line, the same cars, amongst others, were going to be split and passed down equally between them. Now, they would forever be in his collection. He supposed the traditions along with the family name would end with him.

Helmut glanced down at the trunk of the 1946 Packard Clipper that was filled with weapons, knives, and ammunition. He scanned through them all, considering what to take. Some of it will be useful, especially the ones that he could conceal easily. Hearing the doors of other cars being opened, he tilted his head towards Sam and James but refrained from making a comment. Sam chuckled from somewhere behind Helmut, making him turn to him. Sam pulled back from the 1934 Packard Twelve Series 1106 that he was checking out.

"Hey Zemo," He called out, grinning at whatever he was holding in his hand. "Have been secretly a fan-boy all along and were pissed we didn't invite you to hang out?"

"May I?" Helmut asked as he extended his hand. He had a suspicion of what it was already but wanted to see it himself.

"You should keep it. Really brings out your good side." Sam bit out sarcastically and lightly threw it across the couple of feet that were between them.

Helmut caught it easily and opened his palm to see a scratched-up keychain of Iron-Man's helmet. It was light, made of cheap metal, with nearly reflective orange and red paint.

"Huh," he muttered lowly, turning it around a couple of times. The key chain was an old, cheap trinket. He couldn't even remember where Carl picked it up. Their city wasn't exactly in support of Iron man even before the Ultron mess so he doubted it was in Novi Grad. "It belonged to my son. My eldest stole it from him, she liked to do that when they were fighting. I imagine there was another fight over the fact that she lost it."

"Put it away before you lose it," Helmut told her the moment he noticed it dangling from her pocket. "What is it with you and stealing Carl's things?"

"I'm not going to lose it." Nic rolled her eyes and grabbed it. Throwing it to the holder inside the car door she turned to him. "See?"

"Hold up," Sam cut in, pulling Helmut's attention back to him. "You have kids?"

"Had, until your friends showed up. Why does this surprise you? I had a life outside of work." Helmut asked as he ran his thumb across the keychain before putting it into his pocket. It held no value or use, just a small sentimental trinket, he should throw it out.

"Don't get sassy with me, man. If you drop a bomb on us like this, I'm gonna have questions." Sam rolled his eyes, shutting the door harder than it was necessary. Rude.

"As we all do I imagine. Curiosity is wired into our genes after all-"

"Not the time." James interrupted their conversation.

"Right, as I was saying," Helmut cleared his throat and went over to the yellow 1934 SS1 Jaguar where he knew he stored his coat. It was a nice coat. Warm, great quality leather with soft fur around the neck. Ivana loved to steal it and drop it over her shoulders the moment he looked away even for a second. No matter how many times he offered to get her one as well, she would just roll her eyes at him and stick her arms inside it as if to prove the point that it was already hers. It was funny how much it would engulf her, he wouldn't be able to protest for too long even if it ended up in him freezing his ass off at times. He blinked. "I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it's out there, someone can create an army of people… like the Avengers."

Helmut placed the coat on top of the car, making sure it wouldn't fall to the dirty ground. Trying to keep his expression neutral as a wave of bitterness washed over him, he bent down to retrieve a bag from the inside. Once the coat was removed, on the green leather of the car seat, his old, purple mask stared back at him. He paused, having forgotten that he threw it here the last time he drove the car.

Nic made a face as she lifted the mask up and took a look at it. He had stored it away in the compartment box but Nic made her way inside it to snoop around.

"You don't like it?" He raised his eyebrow, pulling out of the garage and into the traffic. He promised to bring her to the Zoo couple of days prior and they were meant to return back home the next day. So begrudgingly, he found a couple of hours in the day when he could bring her, even though they went there not even half a year ago for her thirteenth birthday.

"It's…um…very purple."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Why is it so purple?"

"I think you just don't appreciate fashion." He accused her teasingly.

"You call this fashion?" She shot back.

" I let you sit in the front of the car with me and this is what I get in return?" Helmut feigned the hurt in his voice. "Being bullied by my own daughter."

Nic snorted and pulled it over her head. She pulled down the sun visor to see how she looked before turning to him. He wasn't surprised in the least to see that it was way too big for her. The holes for the eyes and mouth were too low and covered her vision instead.

"You're going to be grounded if I find any makeup stains inside it." He threatened and moved his hand from the gearbox to pull the mask off her head. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why she was already putting it on her face. Throwing it behind him to the back, he ruffled her hair even more, causing her to cry out and swat his hand away.

Swallowing, Helmut reached for the mask. His hand lingered on the soft material for a moment. Clicking his tongue, he grasped it tighter and pushed it inside the bag. It will be useful if they ran into trouble and he needed to stay out of the public eye. Nothing else. They really needed to get a move on. The familiarity of the place was making all the memories that he had no time or energy for to come back.

"I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished." Helmut asserted, taking the coat and dropping it over his forearm. With the bag in hand, he walked back to the 1946 Packard Clipper.

"To do this, we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes." He explained as he filled up the bag with a couple of knives, handguns, and few boxes of rounds.

"Well, join the party. We've already started." Sam remarked from behind him. He was the jokester amongst them, Helmut thought but ignored his comment.

"First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb." He added.

Once he was by the door, Helmut placed the bag on the floor and turned back to his 'team-mates'.

"Stay here." He ordered them, not particularly wanting them to go around and explore the rest of the building.

"Where are you going?" Sam demanded to know, ready to leap into a fight.

"To change, Sam," Helmut smirked and made a point to look down at his police uniform. "I would offer you to join, but I must say I was a married man and I don't break my vows."

"Just hurry up," Sam grunted disgusted at the image Helmut must have created in his brain.

Helmut did not hurry up. In fact, he took his sweet time in choosing his outfit. The upper level of the garage was converted into a somewhat livable space if it ever came to that. Ignoring the spare bedroom, he went straight to the room that acted as a walk-in wardrobe. After going through the options, he ended up settling on a pair of black slacks and a dark purple turtle neck that was loose enough to conceal the Kevlar bulletproof vest underneath.

"My, my." Ivana grinned, coming into their bathroom and leaning against the door frame while he was buttoning up his shirt. "Don't you look charming tonight?"

"Are you sure your opinion is not swayed by the fact that you got me the shirt?" Helmut raised his eyebrow as he watched her through the mirror.

"Of course not, Helmut," She rolled her eyes playfully, coming in further and wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. "But I gotta say, purple is your colour."

He hummed and tilted his head against her cheek as he finished the buttons, leaving the top two unbuttoned. She leaned in and placed her lips on his earlobe, nibbling it lightly.

"Brings out your eyes," She breathed into his ear, making him shiver.

"Honey," He grinned and turned around to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer until she was pressed firmly against his chest. He leaned in, pressing their lips together for the briefest moment. "If you keep this up, we won't leave this bathroom."

"Doesn't sound half bad to me," She quipped and grabbed his shirt to tug him back, deepening the kiss.

"Daddy!" Carl called out all the way from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting them. At the age of five, he possessed the power to scream down the house when he wanted something. "The TV stopped!"

"Duty calls," he half groaned out and stole another quick kiss, not wanting to leave just yet. "You nearly ready?"

"More ready than you."

Helmut blinked the memory away as he put the razor back in its place and looked at himself in the mirror. With a clean shaved face and back in his regular clothes, he looked half decent. Almost like he didn't spend years rotting away in a cell with nothing but books. Almost like he was presentable enough to go home. Except there was no one to greet him there now. Sighing, he grabbed his gloves from the sink counter and shut the light off on his way.

"Really? You couldn't have taken any longer?" James asked exasperated the moment he reappeared. To his surprise, they seemed to have listened and stayed where he ordered them to.

"I certainly could have, but unfortunately we have a plane to catch." Grabbing his bag and coat, he opened the door and threw them into the back.

"How you plan to get all this through the security? Not to mention that you're a runaway criminal?" Sam quizzed as he side-stepped quicker than usual to get to the front seat.

"I have my ways, you'll see," Helmut responded and pressed the button to open the garage door. Sitting down behind the wheel felt nice. He had to admit, he missed driving.

Once on the road, the car fell into silence for a few moments with the radio playing quietly, before Sam ruined it by opening his mouth.

"So what? You took your kids on your little killing sprees?"

"Killing sprees, as you call it, involve a great amount of waiting around. We went sightseeing, mostly. Sometimes shopping." Helmut entertained his idiotic question as he sped up, darting in between the traffic. He smiled smugly catching James' eye-roll in the back mirror.

From their expressions, Helmut gathered that both Sam and James did not expect him to bring them into a small airport forty minutes outside the city and waltz through it like he owned it. The workers that noticed them simply nodded their heads in greeting and minded their business.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asked, surprise evident in his voice as the three of them made their way towards a private jet that was parked on the runway.

"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." Helmut explained as they walked past the plane's wing.

Oeznik was waiting for them by the stairs. Helmut smiled, genuinely happy to see his most loyal friend. The man was in his life as long as he could remember and he was there by his side when Nic and Carl were born, watching them over while he was away. Helmut owed him a debt that he could never repay.

"Hello, Oeznik." Helmut greeted him in Russian the moment he was close enough to be heard over the engine. Oeznik was the one who sat him through hours of Russian lessons many years ago. It was only fair that he would greet him in it.

"Welcome, gentlemen." Oeznik greeted them back in Russian, causing Helmut to grin wider. While James knew Russian better than anyone, Helmut wasn't sure if Sam did.

"Old friend." Helmut embraced him and kissed both of his cheeks. It had been too long. Nodding to him, Helmut turned to James and Sam. Partly to get them on the plane, and partially because he couldn't look at the man for too long, not when he was looking at him with such adoration. Like he was truly happy to see him. It felt wrong. Undeserving. It made his skin crawl.

"Please." Helmut invited them in and boarded the plane. It was one of the smaller jet's that belonged to him; a six-seater with a small gallery. Perfect for quick travel.

While Sam and Bucky got comfortable in their seats, Helmut took a moment to go through the gallery in hopes of finding something that would pass the time between taking off and reaching the optimal altitude. He wasn't a fan of how rocky the first part of the journey tended to be. Helmut could already hear them going back and forth between each other. Finding a book, he pulled out a small red notebook from his coat's pocket. He nicked it, mostly out of curiosity, from James when he wasn't paying attention. He was sure it would also help to understand where the soldier's mind was at currently. After having his memory scrambled for decades, he was bound to be desperate to write down anything important, in fears of forgetting it. It was only logical.

Putting it in the middle of the book, he returned to the cabin and picked a seat near Sam, so that he could have a viewpoint advantage to watch James. He took a look at him for a moment before opening the book and feigning his interest in it. The former Winter soldier had no idea that he lost something. Perhaps James was trying to suppress anything that had to do with the Winter Soldier, including his heightened senses.

Once they were airborne, Oeznik returned with a glass of champagne for him. Helmut chuckled softly and reached out for it, crossing his legs as he leaned back into his chair.

"Apologies if that's a little warm, the fridge is out. But I will see if there is some good food in the galley."

"If it doesn't pass the smell test… give it to them," Helmut suggested in Sokovian, tilting his head towards them, to give just enough suspicion that he was saying something about them. It was fun, getting under their skin. Besides, it wasn't likely that they would tell a difference even if they took the offer of food which he doubted they would. Probably would believe that he was trying to poison them.

"It's good to have you back, sir." Oeznik chuckled with affection in his voice and returned back to the gallery. Helmut tilted his glass before taking a sip, hoping to wash away the heaviness in his stomach that formed. He could think of a couple of things that would be better than him to have back.

"You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That's right. You do." He couldn't help but deliver the dig, even at the expense of setting their 'friendship' a step backward. He wanted to acknowledge Sam's time in the RAFT, of the time that he was a prisoner just like himself. That they had something in common, not just an enemy. Also to hint that he kept up with the news, that he knew of their actions and steps, even all the way from a prison cell.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?" For what it's worth, Helmut had to give a point to Sam for not falling for the most basic bait.

Helmut instead of answering picked up his book and flicked through the notebook, settling on a list. He paused for a second. He was familiar with the names on it. After spending over a year learning everything there was about James' time as the Winter Soldier, he had Black widow to thank for making his job easier, he understood the meaning behind them. What took him by surprise was to see his own name amongst them.

"I'm sorry. I was just fascinated by this." Helmut changed the subject, concentrating on one name that he didn't recognize. Nakajima was circled a couple of times, most likely the most important name on the list. However, he never came across of a Nakajima in James' files. "I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?"

James jumped from his seat and within a second, had the vibranium arm around his throat. The suddenness did catch him off guard, causing him to exhale sharply but he wasn't scared. The grip was tight, in a way that was meant to send a message, not to actually cause harm. Besides, why would you be scared of a thing you craved in the dead of night? Death wasn't something that could be used against him, not when he welcomed it years ago.

Helmut maintained eye contact, almost daring him to go further. To prove his point. That was what the serum did to people. Edged them towards extremes, and James Barnes was as extreme as one could get. A man-made killing machine.

"If you touch that again, I'll kill you." James declared, with a calmness in his voice that only people who had their hands dirty could muster. Touchy subject then. He yanked the notebook out of his hands and only then released his grip.

"I'm sorry," Helmut apologized, his voice sounding hoarser from the strain it just experienced. "I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."'But why is my name important enough to you for you to write it down in your amends?' was left unasked.

"Don't push it." James bit out, becoming guarded once again, just like when he came to his cell. He reminded Helmut of a dog he used to see back home. Desperate for help, but too long on the streets to trust anyone.

"I've seen that book. It was Steve's when he came out of the ice." Sam noted with fondness in his voice. "I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?"

"I like '40s music, so…" James replied, clenching his jaw.

"You didn't like it?"

"I liked it."

"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience." Helmut joined in the conversation.

"He's out of line, but he's right. It's great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye."

"I like Marvin Gaye."

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye."

"You must have really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals."

"Watch your step, Zemo." Sam warned him but he ignored it.

"They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? No. That is why we're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it's Skull Island." Sam asked, glancing between him and James.

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s." James was the one to answer him. That was a light way of putting it.

"It's kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone."'But we both know that's not quite true don't we?' Helmut left unsaid.

The flight from Germany to Madripoor took roughly fourteen hours. For the first couple of hours, they sat in relative silence. Helmut drowned himself into the book while James looked out the window and Sam had his AirPods in, drumming his fingers against the armrest to the beat of a song.

Helmut shifted in his seat, closing the book. Sighing, he placed it on the chair opposite of him and stood up needing to stretch his legs. The jet didn't have that much space to walk so he chose to cross the gallery to refill his glass. With the drink in hand, he wandered down into the cockpit where Oeznik and another pilot were sitting.

"Sir." The pilot greeted him in Russian the moment he noticed him leaning against the door frame.

"Excellent flying, Dabrowski." Helmut smiled, crossing his arms. "haven't felt any turbulence."

"Thank you sir."

The cockpit fell into silence, not that Helmut minded. He was too used to it to find it uncomfortable. He watched the clouds pass them by, sipping the champagne. Feeling eyes on him, he turned to Oeznik.

"Did they treat you alright, Helmut? Truly?" Oeznik asked, switching to Sokovian while looking at him with such adoration and worry that Helmut had to look away yet again. He cleared his throat and plastered a smile on his face. Even to himself it felt forced.

"Of course Oeznik, you worry too much." He chided him gently. The man always fussed about him. He always fretted over Ivana as well, concerned if she ate enough throughout the day. Never went a day without secretly giving Nic and Carl a piece of candy even if Carl never was able to keep it a secret.

"Well it has been my job for over forty years and you tend to find trouble around every corner." The older man chuckled fondly.

"Nonsense, I'm always on my best behavior. How have you been? I imagine you enjoyed the much-needed vacation days." Helmut changed the subject easily. He didn't want to linger on what once was.

"If I knew your drastic ways of making me take the vacation days off, I would have taken them sooner," Oeznik joked before his smile fell away. "Things have been quiet. It a strange thing to get used to. Even after all these years, I expect to hear Nic and Car, to just pop out around any corner that I turn. I make sure they always have fresh flowers, especially Ivana. She was hellbent on having fresh flowers around the house."

His voice broke, thick with emotion. Helmut had to bite down the inside of his cheek to keep himself composed. The metallic taste filled his mouth and as he ran his tongue over the spot, it sent a small jolt of pain.

It had been so long since he saw their graves. He only went there once, to watch their caskets be lowered into a deep hole. As if that somehow could have brought him some sort of closure, as if it would have granted him the ability to say goodbye. The thought of returning, of stepping a foot in that damned graveyard, of looking at three tombstones, side by side, washed him over with such coldness that even if he jumped into antarctic water he would have been warmer. Shame flooded him. What kind of a man did not visit his own family? What kind of a husband, a father, would let them rot alone.

"Thank you, Oeznik. I'll…" Helmut swallowed, trying to find the words that seemed determined to be stuck in his throat and left unsaid. "I'll make sure to pay them a visit. Later."

Helmut did what he did best; he lied. You told her they would be safe. Look how that turned out.

Made another useless promise, knowing full well he couldn't walk down that path, not without putting a bullet in himself and joining them.

Madripoor was just as vivid and bright as he remembered. The lights of the High Town shone from miles away. They stopped by Helmut's safe house, where James and Sam reluctantly changed into a set of clothes that wouldn't instantly attract attention to them. Especially for the roles that they would have to play if they wanted to get information. Unsurprisingly, it took longer to convince Sam to dress up than it did James.

"We have to fix this. I'm the only one who looks like a pimp." Sam groaned out, looking at his apparel for the tenth time in disgust.

"Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp." Helmut sighed as he dug out his phone and split his attention between looking at the road in front of them and through the gallery to find a picture of Conrad Mack. "You look exactly like the man you're supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger."

"He even has a bad nickname." Sam took a glance at the picture. "he does look like me, though."

Sam passed the phone back to him. The closer they walked to the city, the sharper the distinct stench became.

"You smell this?" Helmut asked keeping his attention upfront. A car was arranged to collect them at any moment now, but anything could happen between now and then. He rather not have surprises popping up at them in a place like this. Even he didn't know the city that well and he doubted many people would be willing to help out.

"Yeah, what is that? Acid?"

More like a combined mixture of the fumes from the buildings, production of drugs, all the imported animals and God knows what else. Helmut had no doubt that the water surrounding the city was toxic and could kill someone if they fell into it.

"Madripoor."

A bright beam of headlights flashed them as a car came to a stop a short distance away from them.

"No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error." Helmut explained calmly, barely moving his lips just in case the driver felt particularly nosy. They could trust no one.

"High Town's that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town's the other way." He added, opening the passenger door.

"Let me guess. We don't have any friends in High Town." Sam said as he walked around the car.

Helmut gave him a smile and sat down in the front. The destination, Brass Monkey, was already agreed during the call so Helmut only needed to forward the payment before the car moved in the direction of Low Town.

It did not take long until several motorcycles surrounded their car. Someone already knew of their arrival before they even took a step inside Low Town. Helmut's money was on the Power Broker, which was not the best news for them. He watched Sam turn around and look behind him through the rear-view mirror.

Once the car stopped, Helmut nodded to the driver and exited the car. Wordlessly, he led James and Sam through the streets, passing armed guards, dealers, and hookers until they arrived at Brass Monkey.

"Here we are. Remember your roles no matter what happens." He reminded them again, giving a hard look to Sam. He knew once James got into the role of the Winter Soldier again, there would be very little that could affect him enough to give up their act. It was Sam who made him nervous. His seemingly constant need to check up and staring at James might be the thing that gets them caught. The last thing they needed was for the whole city-state to put a bounty on their head.

The inside was packed with all sorts of lowlifes.

"Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?" Helmut asked James in Russian, loud enough for people to hear and for whispering to begin. He needed the whispers to travel to the right people. Not only would it get them to Selby faster, but it would also buy him security. Winter Soldier's reputation around these parts was well known, not many would want to dive headfirst at them.

Helmut lead them to the bar and took a quick glance around. For the most part, there was no one that stood out or seemed out of place. He noticed that to their right a couple of feet away, two women stood together, but only one of them kept her eyes trained on them. It was the insistent staring that caught his attention. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell much about them, the taller one wore a hood and the one that was watching them had a mask that covered half of her face. The mask reminded him of what the Winter Soldier used to wear. The Bar's security perhaps. Or maybe an interested party.

"Hello, gentlemen. Wasn't expecting you, Smiling Tiger." The barman approached them, distracting him from the two women. He took a look at Sam but didn't appear to be suspicious over his appearance.

"His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby." Helmut answered instead. They had agreed that he would do all the talking and they would simply need to nod along and look pretty.

"The usual?"

There came their test. Seeing the barman take a cobra out of a glass container and drag a knife across it, Helmut sighed dramatically, expressing his feigned happiness at receiving Sam's 'favourite' drink. It was made out Gin, Triple Sec, Cobra heart, and finger lim.

"Smiling Tiger, your favorite." He emphasized with a smile on his face. Helmut had to admit, it was going to be fun.

The barman placed their drinks on the table.

"I love these," Sam spoke up and looked at him, holding the shot as far away as he could from himself.

"Cheers, Conrad." Helmut clinked their glasses and knocked back the shot. It burned his throat as it went down, the heart adding that extra kick of spice to the mix. It wouldn't be his first choice of drink, but it wasn't the worst that he tasted.

"Mmm. Mmm."

While Sam tried to force himself to drink the shot before it became too obvious, Helmut glanced to the corner of the table again. The woman with the hood was gone but the second one was interested in watching Sam with the drink. They definitely had an audience. Not so good.

Hearing someone approach from behind, Helmut turned in time to see the Power Broker's henchman coming up.

"I got word from on high. You ain't welcome here."

Helmut considered his words carefully. They needed to prove that James was under his control. These types of talks often needed a bargaining chip and what was better than a Winter Soldier?

"I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…" he responded and gestured to James who was stiffly standing beside him.

"New haircut?"

"Or bring Selby for a chat."

After a glance at James, the henchman left them alone. Hopefully to get Selby. Licking his lips, Helmut turned back to the bar.

"A Power Broker? Really?" James muttered out lowly, unimpressed with the name. Not that Helmut could blame him, the name was a little bit cliché.

"Every kingdom needs its king. Let's just pray we stay under his radar." Helmut shrugged. The one time that he indirectly dealt with the Power Broker was back in '08, when the EKO Scorpion needed to obtain a particular nerve agent for one of their missions. Even back then, you did not want to get on the wrong side of the Power Broker. He didn't even want to imagine how big his empire was now.

"Do you know him?" Sam whispered, glancing around the bar.

"Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is the judge, jury, and executioner." Helmut elaborated and tilted his head to their watcher. "And has eyes and ears everywhere. She hasn't stopped watching us ever since we stepped a foot near the bar."

Sam's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise and he glanced in her direction. Helmut didn't have much time to say anything else. More of the Power Broker's men were making their way towards them.

"Winter Soldier." Helmut looked at James dead in the eye. "Attack."

He ordered in Russian just as a hand gripped his shoulder. James did not hesitate, ripping the man's arm off him and bending it backward. Dragging him towards the centre of the room, he broke the man's arm in half and threw a punch in his face using the prosthetic arm, rendering the man useless on the floor.

Helmut smiled. He was right after all. No matter how much James denied, the Winter Soldier was right there, still inside him. The bystanders took out their phones, filming as the Winter Soldier single-handedly took out anyone that came at him.

Helmut stood back and apart from pushing a couple of them into Winter Soldier's path, he watched the scene unfold. James was lethal, just like he was all the way back when they first met and Helmut uttered the words of his programming. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the woman leaning her body over the counter as she said something to the barman who promptly left with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Didn't take much for him to fall back into form." Helmut chuckled, shrugging his shoulders at Sam who seemed a little bit pale. He barely paid any attention to Helmut, his eyes only watching James.

The Winter Soldier grabbed someone by the throat and lifted him in the air before throwing him over the counter. The sound of multiple guns cocking behind them made Helmut's heart skip a single beat. Glancing around, it seemed like every single person was arming themselves. Sam gripped James' forearm causing Helmut to hiss out:

"Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us."

The Flying Tiger certainly would not be touching James' without wishing a swift death sentence. James' not reacting to a threat, allowing a touch on himself would blow their cover to pieces. Sam let go.

"Well done, soldier." Helmut praised James, replacing Sam's hand on him with his own. He needed to take control of the situation and fast.

The barman returned and nodded to the woman.

"Selby will see you now. Follow me, gentlemen." She spoke out for the first time, rising from her seat. The honeyed voice twinged with a familiar accent ripped the breath right out of Helmut's lungs. Even muffled by the mask, it was distinguishable in all the ways that it couldn't have been possible. It halted him to the spot, unable so much as to inhale the air that his lungs started to scream for. He did not see James let go of the man or Sam cast him a confused look when he made no move to follow.

This was not possible.

I 'll try to update the fic once a week to keep somewhat consistent schedule :)

Please let me know what you think and I can't wait to bring you more content soon x

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 1: Formal

oh hey, look who’s finishing up all her prompts for Wolmeric Week like a month late lmaoooo

Post 5.3, relatively spoiler free post reunion-I-haven’t-finished-writing-yet moment between Aymeric and Serella. An attempt at normalcy, perhaps attempted too soon, leads to a moment of vulnerability. I’ve written and rewritten this prompt since the actual day of this, and I just need to Stop Wrestling with it.

Word count: 3,466

Punctuality was a priority in Ishgard surpassed only by godliness— regardless of social standing or involvement in the military, the city ran like clockwork, always in some level of activity, of movement and deadlines and bustle. To live in Ishgard was to be subject to strict social expectations when it came to timing. When to arrive (never too early, but never more than fashionably late without a very good excuse,) when was acceptable to leave (the later the better, until you had overstayed your welcome, the line between always being different depending on the host and guest alike,) and for every little moment bookended by arrival and departure. Daunting but for the most familiar and reliant on routine.

Years of etiquette schooling prevented Aymeric from bouncing on the balls on his feet in anticipation for his betrothed to join him in the foyer. Tonight was the first formal they would attend together following their reunion, after so many months of Serella being away on the First, and despite his best efforts, he could feel his excitement being gnawed at by the faint but persistent worry that she was taking so long.

Worry because she often took less time than he did, but also worry that something was wrong. When he’d left her to finish readying herself, her hair and makeup had already been done, surely getting dressed couldn’t take that long? What if something had happened? After another minute ticked by on the old clock in the foyer, he finally decided it was better to check on her.

Ascending the stairs, a particularly fearful thought crossed his mind: what if she was gone again? His steps faltered a moment at the halfway point up the staircase, but he rallied his composure and took the remaining steps two at a time. She would not leave without telling him, at the very least, not anymore—

— Before she left for the First, she wouldn’t, that same afeared voice noted. Do you truly even know her anymore?

The door to their chambers was ever so slightly ajar, enough that flickering lamplight carved a slice of light through the dim, shadowy hallway. When a quiet call of her name garnered no response, he took a moment to force himself to breathe again, and opened the door.

The sight crushed him.

Serella stood at the foot of their bed in her underclothes and stockings, just as he’d left her, staring down at the outfits she’d laid out on the duvet. Her hair was delicately piled, pinned atop her head, and adorned with her own crafted pieces: little constellations of the Twelve scattered in gold and kyanite across an artfully twisted bun. Her eyeshadow had already been artfully brushed on, deep sapphire and gold glimmering like stardust against her dark skin. Gorgeous as ever, she would have taken his breath away but for the way she stared down at the dress clothes as though they were an active threat to her.

“Love?” Aymeric called, a little louder than before, stepping cautiously further into the room to avoid startling her.

She jumped at the sound of his voice. He tried not to let it hurt.

“O-oh, I didn’t realize—” Serella stammered, hand crossing over her torso and tapping at her collarbone. “—I let time get away from me, I’m sorry—”

Her eyes danced away, and her fingers tapped once more at her collarbone. On the third pass of it, Aymeric recognized her finger was drumming out a specific pattern. Three rapid taps, three spaced out, three more rapid taps.

Help me.

Did she know she was calling out for it, quite literally, in all but words? Was it Esteem guiding her hand, sending the only distress call they could? The movement of her finger had drawn his eye, but then his gaze drifted to the necklace clasped just above it on her neck. It clashed with the gold of her hairpins and her ring, silver and flush against her skin as it was. The narrow bands of glowing blue light hemmed on both sides by precious metal— he recognized it as a dampener meant to dull her aether sensitivity. A necessity more oft than not for her, where crowds or aetherically charged areas were concerned, to keep her from being overwhelmed with sensory input.

In particular, worn when she was already well beyond capacity for processing too much around her; Aymeric had seen it more often on her when helping her out of her armor when afield, or before they had to navigate in crowded places they couldn’t avoid for trying. Some days, she just needed to wear it even at home, if she had only just returned from somewhere dense with aether, or was otherwise overstimulated. Little wonder she had been so startled by him.

Regardless of what state he would have found her in, that necklace told him everything he needed to know: she was not in a good place as it was. Going to this formal would only harm her. 

So they wouldn’t. But that did not mean her effort must needs be wasted.

His mind made up, Aymeric spared a passing glance at the outfits laid out on the bed: two dresses, two suits, all of different origin, inspiration, and make, and each in a different but no less alluring gemstone and charcoal dyed fabrics and muted detailing to balance elegance with practicality. 

“You’ve naught to be sorry for; I can see why you struggled so.” He noted conversationally. When she made a questioning noise in the back of her throat and turned to look at him, he met her gaze from the corner of his eye and smiled. “You look radiant in anything. But perhaps this one, my dear?”

Before she could answer— though he noted her pleased flush, and the slight smile on her face— he crossed over to the bed and picked up the outermost jacket of the Lominsan suit. Where his own suit coat was primarily black, with hints of blue and gold, hers was almost wholly blue, speckled with gold buttons and detailing. He rather liked the thought of balancing one another out. She even favored the same high collars he did, though hers left a graceful swoop in the neckline to show her Paladin’s soul crystal gleaming on her necklace.

Sparing Serella another glance, he saw she had already hopped into her pants, unremarkable but tastefully embellished charcoal pair as they were, and was now shrugging on a crisp undershirt. He set the coat down and swiftly covered her hands with his.

“Allow me?” He asked, fingers wrapping around the buttoned edges of her shirt, peering up at her imploringly through his lashes.

Serella swallowed thickly, and he wished he could put it down to being affected by some more carnal instinct. He knew her better than that; she was struggling to not withdraw from him. If he focused hard enough, he could see her almost imperceptibly quaking with the effort.

Let me care for you. Let me love you, Aymeric silently prayed.

Her hands slipped from underneath his, conceding. With a beaming smile and a kiss to her forehead, he made steady but unrushed progress looping the buttons through their corresponding fastenings. It was endearing and heartbreaking both, the way she fidgeted in the scant space between them. It was almost as though she couldn’t recall how to carry herself with him.

Or at all, outside of combat.

Aymeric had fallen into that trap more than once himself— and remembered how hard it was to claw his own way out of it, even with support. He would not falter in being her shield as she found her peace. Not now, not ever. 

Before she could move past him, he fetched her coat from where he’d laid it back down on the bed and attempted to step behind her. When a glance at his face told her he would not be swayed, she sighed and turned her back to him, and slipped her arms through the coat.

“We’ll be late.” Serella spoke up quietly, though the faint quirk of her lips in a facsimile of a smile was obvious in her tone. 

“I assure you, we have all the time in the world,” he dismissed, using the moment she took to adjust the coat around her shoulders to step back in front of her and begin to fasten it closed.

Though she huffed a laugh, she didn’t even bother to try and bat his hands away, instead straightening the cuffs on her wrists. Pleased that he had won this bout, Aymeric continued to fasten the last of the well tailored coat across her chest, up to the last, just below her collarbone. 

Pleased with the way the coat draped over her as he was, he didn’t notice she’d moved her hands until he felt her fingers lightly adjusting his cravat— he’d tied it just left of center, toward his dominant hand. The amount of effort it took for her to widen her smile was apparent, tentative and trembling as it was, but so, too, was it just as obviously genuine. 

Before her hands could retreat, Aymeric caught them in his own and offered her another soft smile. With reverence otherwise reserved for the Fury Herself, he bent his head to press lingering kisses to her knuckles. Scant though the weeks had been since they were at last reunited, he had taken every opportunity he could to again familiarize himself with every ilm of her, to relearn all of her with the certainty of his devotion.

“I should get my boots.” She spoke up, finally inspiring him to straighten and let go of one of her hands.

“We’ve no need for them,” He reassured her, lightly squeezing the hand he yet held onto.

Her evident confusion was given only a reassuring smile in response before he was adjusting his grip on her hand to lead her out of the room. Aymeric guided her only far enough down the hall to lead to the Solar, rather than down the stairs to leave, and turned to step inside.

Serella’s grip tightened as she planted her feet just outside the doorway. Aymeric stopped and heelturned to face her expectantly. His hold was still gentle, unassuming, affection obvious in the faint stroking of his thumb over the fingers it was laced between. He watched her intently, but her eyes could not be pulled from their joined hands.

“Aymeric, we’re going to be late.” She said again, and this time, he could see the ponderous frown on her face, even as she continued to look at their hands. 

Even as she said that, she made no effort to take her hand back, no effort to step away. They both knew that she was the more powerful of the two; if she truly wanted to go, he could not stop her. And yet, there she stood, not understanding why he was not in a hurry. 

“Ella.”

Her name came as a sigh on his lips, formed of affection made habit, but it was enough to tear her gaze away from their hands to look up at him. The hand not holding hers stretched across the divide between Solar and hallway, bridged the gap to lightly brush his thumb over the Ironworks dampener at her neck, disrupting the glow of hearthlight dancing off the metal. Though his focus did not stray from the necklace, he felt more than saw her swallow thickly in response.

“Dearest,” Aymeric tried again, voice faltering. “I will not presume, and if you truly wish to go, we will, but,” his tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “You do not wear this necklace lightly. If you are not well, then we’ll stay home.”

“I can’t do that to you.” Serella said almost immediately, frown deepening. “We’re expected—”

“And you are not well. I can’t do that to you.” He countered gently, held her face in his hands to keep her from looking away again. “I can think of no reason more noble to be absent than taking care of my family.”

“Oh?” Any fumbling attempt she made at dry wit melted from her countenance when he bent just enough to rub their noses together and kiss her forehead.

“Mm. Provided she let me do so, of course.” He said, playfully pointed.

“Of course.” She replied, and finally, her tone matched his.

Taking her banter as permission, Aymeric pulled away enough to tug her deeper into the room, fully in the Solar proper rather than lingering outside in the hallway. His smile widened when she nudged the door closed with her heel on her way in. 

“Thank you.” He whispered earnestly with another kiss to her forehead.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat at the contact, and it warmed him to his marrow, faint as it was. He made no effort to hide his smile when he stepped back from her, toward the other end of the room, and held her hand as he walked until he could no longer, and offered her a wink with a twist of his torso when he turned away from her, toward the old orchestrion tucked away behind the desk. With a flick of the switch, its speakers crackled to life, the well cared for but weathered machine giving off that faint white noise that came when nothing had been chosen to play.

But it did not take long for music to drift gently in from the speakers: Aymeric knew which song to put on. A personal favorite, one they had not danced to in some time.

Once the piano music began to float gently in through the speakers like a gentle snowdrift, he was swift in moving back to gather Serella in his arms again. All the more because he saw the recognition flash in her eyes, her expression shifting to pleasant surprise. 

With a sigh that seemed to take her whole body, she melted, just a little, just enough to turn her head and kiss his palm when he reached up to cradle her face in his hands.

Tinkling piano music moved on with out them, and measured how long it took for her to right herself. Not very— just enough that the first verse had just begun by the time he was satisfied she was well and truly alright, he shifted his hands to hold her at the small of her back, to take her hand in his.

“Dance with me?” Aymeric asked softly.

With a feigned sigh of resignation, the tension bled from her shoulders. Not all of it, mind, but enough that she could smile just a little wider.

“You’re going to insist, aren’t you,” She noted more than asked.

“On dancing? Never. Taking care of you? Always.”

The nearly inaudible giggle that escaped her throat seemed to shake away the last of her threadbare resolve to play at normalcy, as she took a moment to press her forehead to his shoulder and just laugh it out, just a little. When she righted herself, the remnants of that chuckle had softened her smile.

Even as they began to sway together, even as she fell into step with him, as if they had never stopped dancing at all, Serella couldn’t help but tweak his nose— proverbially, and rather literally, when she leaned up to bump the tip of his nose with hers.

“Look at you, batting your eyelashes at me so.” She teased, an old and affectionate turn of phrase. He hadn’t realized how he missed it so until he saw how her ears perked up with the width of her smile.

“You wound me.” Aymeric teased.

Something nearly guttered the light out of her eyes when she fiercely whispered, “Never.”

“I know, love.” Another kiss to her forehead, to will away those dark thoughts she could not yet give voice to, was blessedly enough to keep that playful spark alight. “Apart from my knuckles when I take bits from the mixing bowl.”

Even weak as it was, her laugh was enough to lighten his heart considerably when he gathered her back up to him and started to waltz in an intimately small circle, small enough that they did little more than turn about in place. 

At the second turn of the song, Serella became very still. Much as Aymeric had been leading them, he stopped the moment he felt her plant herself as a tree and refuse to move with him. He cupped her face in his hands as he waited.

Her smile wilted, ever so slightly, and her gaze turned uncertain again as she spoke up, “I won’t be okay just because we stay home and slow dance to sentimental songs tonight.”

Though she didn’t move his hands away, she bent to press her forehead against his shoulder. He kept his hands on her face, gently sweeping his thumps from her cheekbones up to the base of her pointed ears, and back in soothing strokes.

“You needn’t be. I am going nowhere.” Undeterred, Aymeric kissed the crown of her hair. “What was it you said before? Something about loving someone like a blanket?”

“Oh, so you do listen to my impassioned bumbling.” Serella murmured into his collar, more playful, more like herself.

His heart flipped in his chest when he felt her smile against his neck. Just enough time had passed since she’d done so with ease that he had yet to reacclimate his body to hers, to recognize the press of her grin, the tremble of her rage, the stutter of her grief. He would learn again, in time. They had that, now. And what time they did not have, they would make.

“‘Twas far from bumbling— and I always listen to you,” he countered earnestly, brushing his lips in the softest of kisses along the length of her ear. Her delighted peal of laughter and wriggling deeper into his arms inspired his own beaming smile. “I always seek you out. Any part of you I can.”

Serella knew this— he’d certainly never hidden the fact. The moment of hesitation before she spoke up again gnawed at some raw and aching part of him all the same.

“...Even when I feel like I don’t know myself anymore?”

“Especially then, so you are not left to sort it out alone.” When Serella lifted her head out of the crook of his neck to look at him again, he squeezed her closer and pledged, “I meant it when I vowed you have every moment of my forever, always— but especially when you are at your lowest. I have not the power to mend anyone— not even you, much as it pains me to admit it. But I can walk that path of recovery with you, and so I will, and do so with gladness. You need only let me.”

Serella snorted, face warmly flushed darker umber at her cheeks and her ears for her flustering. But she was smiling again, and that was enough for the moment.

“You drive a hard bargain.” Came an overwhelmed mumble, pressed into his collar.

“I learned from the best— for you have ever been with me on mine own journey, have you not?” Aymeric countered again, and knew he’d won the bout when she slumped in his arms entirely, relaxed in his hold. 

“You have me at a disadvantage, my lord.” Serella admitted, rocking back on her heels. “I’ve no choice but to accept.”

Aymeric wanted to counter that, too, but then she’d pulled on his cravat to guide him into a kiss. 

She began to sway again. Slowly, tentatively. By the refrain of the chorus, they were taking turns around the Solar again. By the time the tinkling notes of the piano faded quietly, they found themselves standing in the middle of the Solar again, not entirely still, grinning and healing and raw.

“It would seem our song ended.” She quoted herself from another lifetime ago, in Fortemps Manor, when the only certainty seemed to be in how uncertain everything in the world was— and they, the most uncertain of them all.

“So it has.” He agreed, playing along. 

“Though…” A spark— playfulness— glittered in her eyes when she flicked her gaze up at him through her fanned eyelashes. “We’ve barely started dancing again. Could use a touch more practice, just to be sure I’ve got it. Provided you have nowhere else to be.”

The minx. How he loved her so.

“There is nowhere else I would rather be.” Aymeric diverted from their playful tête-à-tête to do what he had not done the first time, when fear of rejection stayed his heart, and kissed her as they began to dance to the next song. “And that makes all the difference.”

[benscursedkid]

*title from the song of the same name by mansionair and a continuation of this post* 

synopsis: rebekah and ben’s relationship progression throughout their second year at hogwarts. (plus some bonus of other characters too.)

pairing: ben copper x mc; ben copper x rebekah roberts

genre: angst, fluff, etc. 

words: 5.160

a/n: is it 5am rn for me? yes it is. did i skip the ice vault scene because i’m tired and lazy? you bet. also, i know they’re in second year and thus supposed to be around twelve years old but i’m pretty sure i forgot what being twleve felt like (must be all the repressed embarrassment yikes) so i apologize if this seems slightly too heavy or at times mature for that. but then again, this is hphm so y’know... trauma <3 also be warned, i’m tired so this is unedited as of rn. i’ll come back and edit it maybe tomorrow or the next day but if you’re reading this then i have not done so yet. pls, enjoy anyway!

She woke up that morning with a spring in her step. Her bags had been packed for weeks, her robes already ironed and an outfit laid out for the morning. She discarded it, choosing instead to pull another one out of her trunk and switching their spots. The young girl ran all over the house, picking up anything that had been thoughtlessly left out and almost forgot to take time to sit and eat breakfast. 

It was a thing her parents still tried to insist on. Eating meals as a family despite the fact that they are indefinitely one member short. Their motivation usually wore off by lunch only to be half-heartedly reignited by dinner. 

The effort is just what she’d wanted except…Rebekah hates it, truth be told. They do nothing more than inquire about Rowan and Ben, occasionally touching on the weather before falling silent again. And that’s how they remain for the rest of the night. Disappearing into their room seems to be more habit than pastime for them now and Rebekah is left to her own devices. They don’t watch her father’s favorite movies, they don’t make any plans for the next day, they don’t laugh over old jokes. Sometimes, when the moon is high and her spirits are low, she wonders why they can’t try like she does. To fix their family. Her brother may no longer be around, but surely she is enough to keep them going, right? Surely, knowing that they still have their daughter left is enough...isn’t it? 

Her thoughts often took those turns at home, but today she hadn’t let them get to her. Her parents could be heard getting ready for the day in the solace of their quiet room while Rebekah finished brushing her teeth and gathering some last minute research she had done the night before. Mysteries might be fun, but it’s about time this one got solved. 

They were even quieter on the way to King’s Cross than usual—even by their new standards—but Rebekah didn’t care this time. Her mind was too busy running in different directions to spare a moment to anything else. 

“You be careful, ‘Bek,” Her mother whispers presently into her hair, her thin arms wrapped around her small body in the tightest hug she’s received since she came home two months ago. Her voice is uneven and Rebekah can feel the quivering of her lips against her dark hair. “Stay in one piece, alright?”

“I will.” She promises swiftly, the words leaving her mouth without much thought. 

Her father tries for a smile that even he has to know doesn’t land. “Say hi to your friends for us, yeah? Let them take care of you.”

His voice was gentle, his tone and intentions soft and well-meaning, but Rebekah can’t help but bite her lips to keep back a frown. It is glaringly something he would never have said before and for whatever reason, she doesn’t like the fact that he says it now. 

Her father’s hand reaches the back of her head, his palm cradling her cheek affectionately as she pulls away from her mother. He seems about to hug her himself, but in a move strangely unlike him, he doesn’t. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t come. Somehow her heart breaks just a little more anyway. 

The train whistles and she notices that her trolley has already been taken to the luggage compartments. Sound and perception come back to her all at once as the atmosphere seems to crack. Students mill about them in tandem and the heavy scent of the train’s engine prickles at her delicate nose. Her mother and father find their place again, stuck together like glue, and take a small step back. When they look at her their eyes are tired. 

“Have fun, Rebekah.” Her father offers as her mother struggles to keep up her already thin façade of a collected person. 

She nods at them in farewell, her body already turning towards the train. “I will.” She says again. 

She hated the summer holidays this year, yet turning her back on her parents is still a stinging betrayal that quells the breath in her throat. She makes a point to not look behind her lest she fall apart all together. 

Fortunately, there are still some reunions to be had today, the first of which she walks into before even stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. With her arms held tightly around herself and her eyes cast downward, Rebekah doesn’t notice it when a familiar head of blonde hair sticks itself out the window as she approaches the steps. 

“Rebekah!” Cheers a soft voice, one that is usually not heard over the ring of the crowd. 

On instinct, her eyes follow the sound, landing on the sight of Ben Copper with his neck stuck all the way out a compartment window. Unwittingly, all her claustrophobia melts off of her and a giggle even falls like a trickle from her lips. Her hand comes up to cover it but she doesn’t miss the way Ben’s cheeks flush deep with pink. 

The sight only strengthens her smile. 

“Ben,” Rebekah greets with a grin, moving out the way of the steps to instead walk over to stand directly in front of his window. Her hand still hesitates between covering her mouth and balling into a fist at her side. She swallows the uncertainty down. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Doesn’t your neck hurt?”

He blushes again and Rebekah gets the overwhelming urge to ruffle his already messy hair which clearly still shines with product. “No! Well, not before you mentioned it…” 

She chuckles. “Looking for the best view?”

“Not anymore.”

Emotions grips her throat and her smile hesitates between freezing and growing even larger. For his part, Ben simply rubs at the back of his neck shyly, unable to meet her eye now. 

His mouth opens to respond when she doesn’t immediately say anything back, only to be interrupted before he starts by a much higher, much more enthusiastic voice. 

“Rebekah? Is that you?” Rowan gasps, pushing Ben slightly to now fit her head through the window. The blonde grimaces next to her, his nose scrunching up in discomfort and the scene is so comical Rebekah has to laugh. It comes off her chest like a heavy secret she hadn’t known she’d been carrying. 

“You’re here!” Her friend gushes, her lips splitting with a grin so wide Rebekah fears it may cut her face in half. ‘What are you doing standing out there? Come in, the train will depart soon!”

Rebekah doesn’t mention how absurd she looks with her head popping out of a window like a cartoon character. She merely shakes her head and does as she’s instructed. 

It doesn’t take long to find her way to the compartment, even with the onslaught of students now hurrying to board the train. The whistle sounds off again somewhere, but the happy chatter of children and teens mute the sound of it. She’s barely taken a single step into the compartment when Rowan launches herself at her for a hug. Rebekah returns it gently, ignoring the way the rim of the other girl’s glasses press intently into the skin by her ear. 

Rowan releases her quickly, her arm looping through hers and already beginning to speak a mile a minute about something or other Rebekah doesn’t quite manage to catch yet. Perhaps she would, if her eyes hadn’t caught on Ben’s. His own are a warm and welcoming gold with the rays of fading summer sunshine catching on them through the window screen. They cast little squares across his face that Rebekah finds difficult not to count before—

Welcome back, he mouths to her silently, not daring to interrupt Rowan now that she’s started on another one of her tangents. 

Rebekah grins, a slight blush of her own rising to her cheeks. She nods to signal her acknowledgement before turning back to Rowan, barely catching the end of her complaint about the library near her house. 

It’s good to be back. 

~✾~

I haven’t seen him since we stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Penny will tell her later but only after Ben has already been gone. Why hadn’t she noticed his absence sooner? I’m a little worried, Rebekah. Especially after what happened last year with the cursed ice. 

She tried to bring it to McGonagall’s or Angelica’s attention earlier, but Dumbledore called for everyone to go immediately to their dorms after dinner. No exceptions. 

They were ushered to their rooms like cattle, their prefects doing their best to calmly give them orders. Chester, for his part, seemed to pay her some extra attention. In hindsight, Rebekah knows that he has good reason to be suspicious, but at the time his scrutiny only served to further agitate her. 

How could he have disappeared already? Why did no one see him leave? 

Why didn’t she? 

And why is it always those closest to her? 

~✾~

Her sleep that night was fitful and her appearance the next morning was even worse. And just her luck, her least favorite person caught her at the door to Transfiguration the next time she tried to see McGonagall. 

“You look worried, Roberts.” 

Rebekah sighs, her usually level temper flaring at the mere sight of her troublesome classmate. “What do you want, Merula?”

The Slytherin smirks, looking nonchalantly at the black polish chipping from her fingernails. “I was just wondering if you’d had any luck finding that cowardly mudblood friend of yours.”

Her eyes snap sharply over to Merula’s. Green meets magenta in a swirl of anger and pride, each of them holding onto both. When Rebekah speaks, her voice is low and measured. “Do you know what happened to Ben?”

“I know more than you,” The other girl mocks but suddenly she doesn’t seem so teasing anymore. She takes a taunting step closer and despite the daylight peeking through the windows, her eyes darken with mirth. “I know that sometimes even when people are missing, they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.” 

The words are more than just a punch to the gut. It’s bad enough to be reminded of Jacob’s absence, but implying that the world is better for it is…

Merula takes this moment of hesitation to drive her point home. “There are things happening at this school you could never begin to understand, Roberts,” Jacob did. “Trying to uncover those things is going to get you killed.” Like Jacob?

“No,” Rebekah shakes her head, her hands balling into fists she just barely manages to keep at her sides. “Trying to get in my way is only going to end up hurting you, Merula.”

Merula glowers at her, her lips twisting up into a snarl. “You’ll learn everything soon enough.”

“If you’re not going to help me find Ben,” Rebekah snaps, her glare sharper than she thinks it's ever been before. “Then just stay away from me, Merula.”

“As you wish, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rebekah finally pushes past her, but her words linger in her head far into the rest of the day. 

~✾~

“Please, Madam Pomfrey,” Rebekah pleads, pouring all of her worry and concern into the five syllables. “Someone should be with him!”

But the healer just arches an unconvinced eyebrow, refusing to move from her place blocking her entrance into the hospital wing. She crosses her arms at Rebekah’s comment. “And you’ve come to the conclusion that a skilled healer is not enough company, Miss Roberts?”

Rebekah makes a noise of frustration that sounds strangled in her throat. “He needs a friend, Madam!” The woman does not budge and Rebekah runs a fraught hand through her short black hair. She’d wrestled her Ravenclaw tie loose earlier and discarded her robes at her dorm the second she’d gotten back from the fifth corridor, figuring that it was only a matter of time until Ben got seen here. 

“I won’t bother him. I won’t bother you. I won’t bother anyone, I promise.” It’s been days since she’s heard from him, she was starting to worry... “Please,” She says eventually, the weight of all her troubles finally managing to drag her down. “I just want to see him.” 

Pomfrey studies her closely for a long time before something close to recognition flashes across her face. 

She steps aside. 

~✾~

He doesn’t wake up for another four days. By then the weekend has come along and not so easily, might she add. She’d spent much of her time after and between classes sitting in the hospital by Ben’s bedside. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should have been more worried about the notes and the quills and the clues, but every time she thought about that doubt crept into her mind. 

Surely, her luck couldn’t be that bad? How likely was it really that one of her very few friends was conspiring against her? And that it could be Ben? Of all people? 

It wasn’t just unlikely as far as Rebekah was concerned. It was impossible. 

Ben would never do that to her. 

Rowan and Penny had been worried about how thin she was stretching herself. Between classes and clues and uncomfortable hospital wing chairs. After her honesty in his class, Flitwick had given her a small extension on the last homework assignment, given how often—and how commonly known—she visits Ben when she can. Even Chester had taken to checking in on her, not that she was the one who needed it. 

And yet in spite of all this, she was not with him when he woke up. 

She’d been resting in her dorm with Rowan after being kicked out by Pomfrey the day before. The matron claimed her worried frowns and her frequency in the wing were beginning to scare some of the other students and instructed her to take the weekend away from the smell of pumpkin juice and disinfectant. She hadn’t wanted to leave, but she had been able to get Pomfrey to promise to alert her if anything changed. 

The rest of her and Rowan’s roommates had quickly vacated the premises when it became clear that Rebekah was not going to leave. She thinks they’re afraid of her, like many other people she’s noticed. Thinks that she’s mad. Like your brother, some of them say. You’re cursed. 

But Rowan stayed. For a while she tried to distract her with art or wizard’s chess, but eventually they settled on a book. Rowan sat on her bed, the book spread out on her lap as she read it to Rebekah out loud while she sat on her own bed upside down in boredom. Rowan had the better voice for it, they decided, and a longer attention span. 

It was like this that they found her. The poor frazzled student Pomfrey had apparently sent to fetch her. It’s Ben, they exclaimed and she swears the whole common room fell quiet behind the half-opened door. He’s awake. And he’s asking for you. 

Before she knew it, her legs were moving. She wasn’t really thinking—they knew where to go—as they ran her down the corridors. The pale morning sun blinked at her as she passed each window. Until the door came into view and she only just had enough wits about her to slow down, steady her now labored breaths before entering the wing.  

She pushed the door open and Madam Pomfrey was on her immediately. “That was quick.” She says matter-of-factly, her hands folding in front of her the way they commonly do, her shoulders straight and expression relaxed. 

Rebekah ignores her. “Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” She answers quickly without preamble and she heaves a sigh of relief. “His memory is erratic, but I have seen patients in far worse condition in my time as Matron of Hogwarts.”

“You said he asked to see me?”

“Many times, along with other strange requests and proclamations. I believe he’s experiencing some state of delirium.” 

“Can I talk to him?” She asks, ignoring the way her heart flips painfully in her chest at her previous words. She doesn’t want to think about how disoriented he must have been. She should have been there.

“Mister Copper has been through quite an ordeal and still remains in a very delicate state—” She begins but one look at Rebekah’s face tells her that little she can say will matter. She sighs in something that sounds like sympathy before gesturing over to his bed. “Make it fast.”

She smiles briefly in lieu of thanks before she’s moving again towards the familiar spot by his bedside. Pomfrey hadn’t even moved her chair. 

Despite his clearly groggy state, Ben smiles weakly as she approaches, recognizing her immediately. His voice is meek and scratchy when he says, “Hi, ‘Bekah…” 

Her lips pull up slightly at the unfamiliar nickname and she allows herself to fall habitually into the chair beside him. She reaches out to take his hand, but thinks better of it and wrings them together nervously underneath his bed instead. “How are you feeling?”

As she says this, Ben frowns, his whole body slumping further into his bed at the reminder of his condition. Dark spots can be seen beneath his eyes despite being unconscious for the past four days and his skin is still pasty and almost as pale as hers. Not for the first time, Rebekah wonders just what happened in the near week and a half it took to find him in the corridor. 

“Cold. Tired. Sore,” He laments, but his mouth manages to pick up just slightly anyway. “Not that different from usual to be honest.” 

Rebekah wants to laugh at his attempt at a joke—no matter how self-deprecating, acknowledging the effort it must have taken, but she doesn’t quite manage it. Instead, her brows knit together even more in worry for his health and well-being. 

“Are you comfortable?” She finds herself saying, her eyes flicking to his rather flat looking pillow and the cold bars of his bed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Ben smiles and this time it takes. He still looks tired and he still looks ragged, but not so lonely anymore. The sight reminds her of what a twelve year-old boy should look like as his round cheeks wrinkle with the change of expression. 

“Seeing your face is enough,” He admits a bit sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers purposefully, ducking his head down to look at them. “Madam Pomfrey is very helpful, but she doesn’t have the most comforting bedside manner.” 

This gets a chuckle out of her at the truth of it and Ben’s smile returns victoriously. 

Now it is Rebekah’s turn to look away and she nervously crosses her ankles before uncrossing them again. She shifts only subtly in her seat. “She said you asked to see me?”

His face twists in confusion. His head tilts in tired frustration. “Did I? I feel like I’m losing it…” 

A small part of her is left disappointed with his lack of remembrance, but it is far overshadowed by the full force of her concern coming back at his clearly patchy memory. Just what did that cursed ice do? 

Her hand twitches again to reach out to him but this time she listens to it. Her hand wraps cautiously around his wrist in what she hopes is a consoling manner. “What were you doing in that corridor, Ben? How did you get trapped in the ice?”

The Gryffindor shakes his head in anguish. “I don’t remember. I can hardly remember anything at all. Madam Pomfrey thinks it has something to do with the ice.” 

Emotion lodges itself in her throat and for a moment she can’t speak. Ben looks away from her, seemingly in shame, but shame for what she isn’t sure. And she hates that she questions it. This isn’t fair! Why must these things always happen to her? 

Paranoia pricks at her conscience and climbs up her spine. She has no choice but to press further. “I found a letter to you in the artefact room,” She explains and Ben still refuses to look at her directly. She isn’t sure whether to take that as a bad sign. “It led me to another one that told you to go to that corridor…” 

“I’m sorry, Rebekah,” Ben whispers as though he doesn’t have the strength for anything else. “I just don’t remember…” 

Something pulls at her chest. “Ben—”

“That’s enough for today, Miss Roberts,” Pomfrey announces, having snuck up behind Rebekah while she’d been distracted. “Mister Copper needs his rest.” 

“But—”

“It’s okay,” Ben grabs her hand, his own not much bigger but it still offers her the reassurement that is intended. “I’m kind of tired, anyway.” 

Rebekah frowns half in suspicion and half in confusion. “You just woke up.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Pomfrey clears her throat and Rebekah sighs, reluctantly releasing her hold on Ben’s hand and offering her friend in question a wave as she disappears back behind the privacy curtain. 

She doesn’t see him for the rest of the day, but her mind stays stuck on the hospital wing and the missing week and a half of Ben’s memory of how he got there. 

~✾~

In hindsight, meeting Bill had been, thankfully, one of the only good things to come out of that term. At the time, she couldn’t have ever guessed the way that things would soon be playing out, but one thing that was a constant in her life when nothing else was is Bill Weasley. 

Her surrogate big brother—and arguably the best one she ever had—went on to get her through the worst of times. Even when he couldn’t be there, he always lent her his support. Rebekah doesn’t know where she’d be without him. 

And to think she almost met him for the first time with a book about Patricia Rakepick. She knows now that hindsight isn’t always funny. 

~✾~

Speaking of older brothers, she never quite expected to find comfort in dry as wood Chester Davies of all people but—What are prefects for?

Rebekah’s grin comes surprisingly easy, all traces of her nightmare forgotten. “Badgering everyone about house points?”

“Hey!”

~✾~

Rebekah groans as her face plants into her textbook, her head feeling like it holds nothing but bricks. Certainly no useful curse-breaking information. 

A light, breathy chuckle is heard from beside her and if she weren’t stressed out of her mind, it might have brought a smile to her face. Her shoulder is cautiously poked as her study companion regards her fondly. 

“You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

She lifts her head just high enough off the potions book to glare at him through the dark strands of her hair now stuck to her face. “Remind me again why we didn’t invite Penny to teach us this instead?”

He hums as though in contemplation, but the smile threatening to lift his lips tells a different story. “Because I need the extra study time and you were just bored enough to join me?”

It’s mostly a lie. She knows that she needed to study some possible potions her and Bill could bring into the vaults and ever since he got out of the hospital wing, she hasn’t been able to see Ben too often lately...but yes, he also did really need the study time. Unfortunately, the hospital wing isn’t the most convenient place to do homework and even though he did every assignment his roommates brought back to him, Ben had fallen a bit behind in Snape’s class. 

Though, really, she doesn’t think anyone but Penny is exactly ahead. 

Still, she frowns as Ben reaches to brush some of the hair out of her face. The tips of his fingers graze over her skin and he clears his throat before looking away. 

Rebekah does the same, casting her eyes around the room. Truthfully, there’s not much to look at. It’s the same potions classroom it's always been: dark, dreary, and slightly dingy. Though, she must admit that the faint green light coming from the dungeon corridor does cast a rather lovely reflection across his face. 

“Well now I’m even more bored.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Instantly, her brows draw together in slight disappointment and surprise at the sudden sad apology. When she looks back over at him he’s already turned subtly away from her, but his eyes are somewhere else. Somewhere distant and far away. 

“Ben, are you sure you want to deal with the cursed ice again?” 

He actually barks out a laugh, but’s hollow and strained. “No, I am absolutely unsure,” He huffs, chewing anxiously at his lower lip. “This potion makes me feel better about my likely injuries, but I’ll learn a new charm to try and avoid injuries and trouble altogether—” 

Without thinking, Rebekah allows her hand to fold over top of his and Ben stares at it for a second, his cheeks going a little pink again before continuing. 

“—s-sorry, Rebekah,” He stutters out for a moment and she finds it more endearing than she thinks it really is. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Somehow, I find that strangely hard to believe.” 

They laugh together effortlessly, most of the weight from before gone. As always, the expression transforms his face into something more youthful and unburdened—the way she thinks it was supposed to be. The sound of their laughter mixing together like paint sounds like music to her tired ears. 

“But seriously though,” Ben adds as it winds down, all thoughts of potions and textbooks forgotten. “I’m still going to do it.”

She can’t help but ask. “Why?”

And when he answers her, he says it simply. As simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Because you need me to.” 

~✾~

She fell asleep on the train. 

Ravenclaw had a huge celebration the night before for winning the house cup. Rebekah hadn’t the energy to join in on the festivities—the cursed ice had really done a number on her, not to mention that bloody knight—but it was rather amusing to watch Chester run around trying to put out the fires of adrenaline. With all of that joy and creativity in one room, she’s sure he was up all night. 

Her and Rowan had their own secret celebration too. They congratulated themselves—and Bill, Penny, and Ben internally—for making it past the ice vault… and then spent the rest of the night theorizing on what the next one could possibly be. They certainly weren’t left empty-handed after all. 

But her brother’s voice haunted her well into dawn. She saw his face every time she closed her eyes. And she missed him. 

She missed him so much it hurt. 

“Rebekah,” A whisper. A tap to her shoulder. When did she fall asleep? “Rebek—”

“Don’t just poke her like that!” Mocks another voice, one equally as familiar yet in her groggy state she is unable to place it. 

“Well, the train has stopped, Rowan—”

“But you’re not gonna wake anyone up poking them like porcelain china, Ben—”

“Please tell me the two of you didn’t argue the whole time I was out?” Rebekah croaks out, her throat tight from recent disuse, attempting to blink herself fully awake. 

Rowan huffs slightly but doesn’t disagree while Ben remains still and silent and Rebekah suddenly realizes she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. She sits up to give him his shoulder back and he offers her an understanding smile. 

“I’ll have you know I was perfectly civil—”

“—You threw your muggle studies book at me—”

“—well it’s the one I like the least, so—” 

Rebekah whines petulantly and throws them both a pleading look, her lower lip pulled over her other one in a pout. “C’mon, guys, summer holiday just started. Can’t this wait?”

Their frowns remain on their faces but they don’t object and Rebekah supposes she’ll have to start taking that as a win. 

“Thank you.” 

It doesn’t take long to gather their things and leave the train. Given that it has been stopped for the past few minutes, most students have already left. Only the slow stragglers remain. Ben and Rowan take up a spot on either side of her as they exit their compartment and descend the few short stairs to the King’s Cross platform. 

Immediately, the warm rush of summer air hits Rebekah as her foot touches the ground. With most of the families gone or leaving, it’s not as noisy as it was the last time she was here, but her ears do manage to catch on a voice calling out to them from her left. 

Rowan laughs from beside her and waves at her parents and cousins, her grip on her trunk nearly going white with how hard she squeezes it in excitement. She turns to give the shorter girl a quick hug and promises to write to her frequently, stopping only to throw Ben a hesitant nod of farewell before she’s skipping off to join her family. 

Rebekah takes a look around but does not immediately spot her parents. Or Ben’s. 

His throat clears and she turns back to him. His blue t-shirt ripples a little in the soft breeze, his hair waving with it, and his eyes bore into hers with intent. His brown eyes shine with something that feels like a goodbye and a hello all in one. 

She smiles. 

He opens his mouth but his attention catches on something behind her and she knows what he sees as an expression of fondness and recognition crosses over his features. His hand comes up into a small wave before looking back to her and sending the universal wait gesture. 

“Thank you,” Rebekah speaks before he can and catches him off-guard. “For all your help this year. I...I’m sorry about your memory. I’m sorry you couldn’t get it back.” 

Ben seems to shiver at the reminder before collecting himself. He shrugs in a more nonchalant way than she’s almost ever seen him. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, considering where I ended up...I’m not sure I’d want to remember it anyway.”

She tries for a smile at the silver lining, no matter how bleak it is, but it feels cheap so she bites it back instead. 

“I’ll write you everyday,” Ben promises quickly, nodding almost confidently. “That way I wo—”

“Don’t do that,” She shakes her head, her smile half of a tease. “You won’t have too much to talk about if you write to me every day. Your letters will get short. Every weekend should suffice.” 

Ben nods at the idea. “Okay. Every weekend.” 

A beat passes between them. Neither of them speak. 

“I’ll see you later, Ben?” She asks somewhat hopefully and strangely somewhat unsure. Where did her uncertainty come from? 

But he only nods, a smile finally breaking through. 

“See you later, Rebekah.” 

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Fathers and Sons Part 1: A ROTTMNT Fantasy Fanfiction

Summary: When a old friend shows up, Leonard is forced to face a difficult past all while keeping Donnie safe. But will it be enough to escape unharmed?

Takes Place a bit after “The Thief and the Orphan”

Word Count:2478

Pairing: Ok if you ship ANYTHING in this I’m going to seriously have to reccomend you seek therapy. Or do a soul searching montage. Which ever your insurance will cover

Rating: PG for Mild Violence

“Ok hear me out-“

Len ,without looking away from the cabbage he was inspecting, says, “Danny I swear if I turn around and your’e holding a bag of onions bigger then Donnie I’m going to use your suits for my new quilt.”

Danny let out a small scoff (followed by the undeniable sound of someone setting down a giant bag of surplus). A small shoulder bumped his hip, drawing his attention down to the twelve year old soft shell at his side, giving him a sour look with puffed up cheeks, “Uh oh, I know that look. What did I do?” Len asks

“I am not a official unit of measurement Dad.”Donnie says in a way that supposed to indicate he was offended. But judging by the way he was pressing his mouth into a fine line he was trying hard not to smile. Len doesn’t share his attempt to hide a smile as he rubs Donnie’s scalp as though to ruffle his imaginary hair, “He tries to catch any sign that Donnie was upset ,he had a bad habit fo not always sharing his feelings, but the child seemed alright. Len, picks up a frost apple and turns it over to check for rotten spots. Danny snatches the apple out of his hand, Len looks to him and sees Danny giving him a questioning look before glancing at the child holding his fathers hand, leaning against him with a half bored expression on his face but also probably to give his braced leg a break, “Think we can afford a quick lesson?” Danny asks

A wave of uneasiness came over Len as he quickly glanced around the market. Thankfully the guards were too busy off getting bribes or drunk and the vendor is too busy having a staring contest with a spider on their stand. After a moment to think it over he nods to Danny though he unconsciously grips Don’s hand tighter in his. Danny’s crouches down to Don’s level, “What do you think kid? Ready for a lightning round?”

Don’s eyes widen for a moment before looking to Len. Despite the overprotective knot in his stomach he gives a nod. Don looks back to Danny with a look of determination. Danny gives a grin, pulling out the apple out from behind him and tosses it up into the air before snatching it and hiding it behind his back, barely keeping it in sight for more then a few seconds. “Alright, notice anything wrong with the apple?”

Don’s brow furrows in a way Len knew he was thinking about the brief time he had been allowed to see the apple. To a passerby it may have looked like a simply game a uncle was playing with his nephew but it was a good observation test to see how many defections Donnie could notice with as brief as window as possible. Which would prove useful if Donnie was ever staking out a score in the future. “It wasn’t fully blue yet, “ he says after a moment, “Which means it has plenty of time to ripe. And it didn’t have any bruising.”

“Almost right.” Danny drew the apple out again, angling the fruit so Donnie could see the top of it “The stem is twisted and withered a little which means the farmer who grew it took care to make sure it was stored properly.”

Don immediately frowns, “shoot.” He says tapping his foot against the ground angrily. Physically reprimanding himself for his mistake

“Hey now,” Danny rubs his scalp “you’re getting better. you’re catching on a lot faster then you Dad did.” Len made sure to cast the rat a sour look (mostly for the added insult in his direction)

Len can still feel Don’s disappointment as he leans against his Dad’s leg. Len didn’t always approve of doing tests like these in public. But he didn’t want Donnie to feel dishearten. HE hands the bag of groceries to Danny (who takes it with a soft grumble) and kneels down, a arm wrapped Dons shoulders, “Alright kiddo.” He says drawing Dons sad gaze to him, “Let’s say you wanted to ‘befriend someone here. Do you see someone who ‘d make a good ‘friend?’”

Eager at a chance to redeem himself, Donnie’s eyes dart around at a speed that Len knows means he’s focusing too hard, “Take a deep breath,”he reminds squeezing his shoulders gently, “there’s no time limit. ‘Friends’ will come around again.” Without looking at him, Don nods before closing his eyes and doing as he was told. This time when he looks around its at a slower more manageable pace, ‘I’d befriend the man in a brown cloak.”

Len looks at where Don’s looking at sees who he’s talking about, whose standing net in the shadow of another giant bull yokai, “Are you sure?” he asks, “Why not the two over there?” he says nodding towards the two squirrel yokai in bright clothes, “They look like they’d be good friends too.”

Donnie nods, “He’s a merchant pretending to be poorer then he is ,you can tell by his dragon scale gloves and glasses. And the guy with him is a body guard but the body guard looks tired like the merchant has been harassing him all night so even if I did.” Don pauses, “‘befriend him, the body guard probably wouldn’t try as hard to befriend me back.” Don’s eyes look to him for a moment as though to check his work, but Len just nods towards the squirrels, telling him to continue ,”They’re not actually rich, they look lost. The clothes are probably family heirlooms that they couldn’t bring themselves to sell, but they’re hands are really dirty which means they’re probably laborers. What ever they do have on them is probably a prized family possession. But it wouldn’t be right to befriend from them.” This time when Donnie looks at him Len gives him a smile and a nod, “good job baby boy, you got everything right.” He says gently pressing the corner of his mouth to Don’s forehead as he hugged him tightly around the shoulders. Even though Lens’ never been too sure about conducting these sort of tests in public, it’s worth it to see Don’s face blossom into a smile. Len rises back to a standing position. Mickey is already giving him a smile of approval as his flippers flutter happily, “Great job cookie!” he tells Donnie, squishing his cheek on Donnie’s scalp. Len takes the back of produce from Danny and returns to looking at the produce.

He had thought it was too soon to try and teach Don the skills he would need as a thief, and far too risky to do out in public, but luckily Danny always knew how to code the self titled “Thief Games” to make a observer think that , rather then teaching a child who to pick pocket and how to deduce a item worth stealing at a moments notice, that they were just teaching him how to make friends and playing games.

IT was inevitable, but that didn’t’ mean it didn’t make him anxious.

He was inspecting a group of half grown carrots when Donnie pulls on his arm to get his attention and immediately saw what had gotten Don so excited, a used book stand that had Don beaming up at him, “can I?” He asked , “Please? I have money.”

Uh oh. Len could feel his ‘overprotective dad’ instincts overwhelm his ‘dear moon Len the booth is literally a few feet away’ reasoning. He took a breath before he smiles, rubbing Dons’ scalp,” Ok take Mickey with you and do as he says. And here,” he reaches into his coin bag (thank the Mystic Moon for that extra good score they had hit before the snow had set in), he mentally counts up how much he’ll need for groceries before pulling out a few spare coins, “consider it a reward for doing so well,” Normally he didn’t like Donnie leaving his side in public, but it was worth it to see Don smile at him and take the coins, “Thanks Dad!” He says before hurrying over to the book vendor with Mickey trailing after him.

“Looks like you two are getting along again.” Danny says stepping by him. Picking through the produce,“I know things were hard there for a moment.”

“Yeah, we were training yesterday and he said,” Len pauses trying not to think about how the conversation had went, “some things that I know he felt bad about saying.” Len turns his attention to a giant bag of potato’s, when was the last time he had made fries? “Hes a great kid he just gets frustrated.”

“Hes at that age” Danny turns and leans at the stall, Len can tell he’s watching Donnie at the book stand. For someone who always claimed Len too overprotective, Danny was certainly a contender, “I can’t believe it was seven years ago you said you were going out to buy hair gel and you came back with a freaking kid.”

Len laughed, “Yeah,” it was weird how seven years could both feel like a lifetime and a blink of a eye. He could still remember when Donnie was too scared to leave his little corner of the house. He was so entrapped in those early memories that he almost jumped when Danny suddenly dumped his groceries into his arms causing Len to stumble for a moment, trying to keep from falling over, “Danny-“

“Mickeys started to look bored, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t start licking books-Mickey no! They’re covered in germs!” Danny said already hurrying over to where Donnie was desperately trying to pull a book away from Mickeys open mouth . It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t only left alone, but with bags of produce that even he was having a hard time balancing. He had thought is as overkill to bring the entire family along to of grocery shopping but the winter had been especially long. He didn’t blame any of them for running after him when he had went to get his cloak. He had actually been relieved to have help carrying the supplies back home but he should of known that was too good think their attention spans would hold out. With half humored grumbling he turns to the vendor,” Hey, can I leave this stuff behind with you until we leave?” Grateful when he nodded (before returning to his staring contest with the spider), Len somehow managed to shuffle behind the stand and drop off the bags food and the payment. He counted out his change again, they had ended up under budget (for once). Maybe he could go visit the sacred east booth, if they had rice flour he could make-“

“Hey babe”

Len drops the apple he had been looking at and grabbed at his knife when a another hand caught his and a arm wrapped around his chest, pinning his back against a chest. He wastes no time twisting to free himself before he feels the hand gripping his redirecting his knife holding hand so the sharp point was digging through the back of his shirt and over his kidneys under his coat so no one could see it. From a outside perspective someone might of thought that someone had jumped over to surprise a old friend. The person rests their cheek on his shoulder looking to him with a smirk “I can’t believe you actually let me do that Babe, how many times did you lecture Lief and Mickey for letting their guard down? oh how the mighty have fallen.”

Len grinds his teeth together, berating himself for a a few moments before forcing himself to calm down. The vendor hadn’t noticed what had happened, “What do you want Vito? I told you if i ever saw you again i’d skin you alive-“

“Ah you did didn’t you?” the silver yokai with a white mohawk and green markings around his eyes said as though just realizing he forgot his watch, or something trivial, “ But i just missed you so much i had to visit, babe. I must say, i’m digging the ponytail look you have going.” Vito used his hand to twirl his hair around for a moment ,”it really suits you.”

He’s too busy thinking of all the ways he wants to break Vitos army that he has to remind himself to stay calm. Despite how “attached” he claimed to be to Len, the Thief knew he had no problem shoving that knife between his ribs and leaving g him to bleed out “ I told you i hate it when you call me that Toe-“

“Ah but i think it’s cute, doesn’t it make you feel it make you feel special?” Vito presses his forehead uncomfortably close to Lens temple. Even after all the time Vito still smells like expensive cologne and candy, a sickly combination that makes his stomach twist,”How’s your boy doing? It’s been so long since i saw him-“

Len jerks around again “if you touch him-“

“I won’t i won’t. I happen to know he’s over book shopping with Danny and Mickey,” Vito let’s out a sigh “as much as i’d love to catch up with the boys, there’s someone who’s been dying to see you,” The hand on Lens chest rises up and plays with Lens bangs that slowly grow claws” and if you come quietly, you might live long enough to see your baby boy again,”

Len imagines catching his ankle around the back of Vitos ankle and getting them upper hand. But he looks to where the Mud Dogs are looking at books across the market. He watches Donnie look in his direction and his smile fade to terror. Of course he would understand what was going on, and in a way it makes Len hate Vito even more to make Donnie look so concerned for him. Donnie has already grabbed Danny’s hand but Danny is already looking like he’s about to charge across the market and kill Vito where he stands while Mickey grabs Donnies shoulders to keep him from running to him. But Len shakes his head at them as settle as he can. The pain swelling when Don’s eyes fill with tears. His natural instinct wants nothing more then to go to his child and comfort him. But HE knows he can’t do that if he makes the wrong move and ends up with a knife in his kidneys.

“Let’s just get this over with.” he growls at Vito as quietly as he can

“Aw that’s why i love you babe. You’re just so smart,” Vito twists the arm he has a grip on like someone would direct a horse and forces Len to walk ahead of them. The two of them disappearing into the crowd

Len didn’t care what happened to him

he just needs his son to be safe

[marshmallowprotection]

Calluna

Pairing: Saeran Choi/Reader

Fairytale AU.

Description:

The Prince has been bound to the castle walls, and he’s never been able to leave from it. The only place that he has to escape to are the books that he reads and the garden that he’s allowed to venture into every evening. But, what happens when he encounters someone that has eyes that know a world unlike his own?

Inspired by a drawing by @sensetenou​

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Three: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Four: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Five: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Six: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Seven: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Eight: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Nine: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Ten: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Eleven: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Twelve: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Thirteen: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Fourteen: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Fifteen: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Sixteen: Here! | AO3

Chapter Sixteen

There was once a time when you were merely a child that didn’t know what they were doing.

You often cried and hoped that someone would have sympathy for you but they never did. You were just another kid on the streets that would die sooner than not and no one wanted to help someone who wouldn’t benefit anything. It was why you took to theft to survive but while you managed to take what you wanted, you never took more than you needed.

Just a few bites of food, just a few sips of clean water, and nothing more than that. You were a child, and surely nobody would notice a few bites missing from their table. That was where you doubted who you were stealing from for the last time, and by taking from a feast, you were forever sold to the man who called himself Red Hood.

He saw that you had talent but deemed you good enough to be used in the field given your childish nature. The second that he saw anything that he could use, you were spared a death sentence or you were damned to suffer forever, you would later discover. Death might have been a mercy, you would know in hindsight.

You were handed away to the White Devil, who was a few years your senior but someone that had proven himself to Red Hood time and time again. With a title like that, you thought that he would be cruel and callous, but the man that you would come to know as Zen was far more kind than he was menacing. He sympathized with your position.

He had been in a similar position himself, except that he willingly approached the criminal to make a deal that would trap him until he could pay off the loan that he took out. Even though you could recall his kind smile as the first one that you’d seen since the passing of your parents and you took to him like he was the brother you never had.

Zen treated you the same way, like a little sibling that he wanted to look out for and protect. He showed you everything that he knew and more when you were working together in the field. He had the charm to swindle anyone and you had the innocent face that would sell the story that he spun around and around for the rich to believe.

It was the only time in your life where you felt like you were having fun, and that first time that he took you out, he showed you how to survive. You could remember that day where he took you by the hand and showed you how easy it was to trick a rich man.

It took a matter of seconds by his side, you distracted them and Zen took everything they had in a matter of minutes and that was that. The memory was stitched deeply inside of you and you would never forget that day because it changed the path that your life was on and the road that you were on forever.

“Good sir, it seems to be that you’ve dropped this.”

Zen held out the gold coin in his hand and flashed it to the man. The rich man’s eyes widened and he took it from the young man. He nodded his head and thanked him profusely. It didn’t take long for Zen to get him enriched in a conversation about the state of the world and how there were no good common men left around to do such good deeds for someone.

You were only nine years old, but even you knew that he was too good at buttering someone up. It was too easy for him. You thought that crying was enough to trick someone to steal a few coins but this was well above your level. You kept trying over and over and over to learn how to do things like that on your own but it never worked out.

Your parents had told you that if you wanted to geet somewhere, you had to be diligent and focus on your studies. But, there was no studying that you had the power to find on your own to help you learn how to be a better thief. It left you to flounder often, but still, you kept stubbornly trying to do it right. Before you had been handed off to Zen, you had been forced to stick it alone.

You failed almost every single time you were on your own.

Yet, you kept trying and Red Hood’s patience was wearing thin. The only reason you had this chance was that Red Hood wanted you to prove your use to him. He wanted you because it wasn’t often that he’d found crafty young thieves to use. How had Zen learned all of this, anyway?

You stared at him in awe the entire time before you remember that you had a job to take care of.

While Zen kept the man talking, you were quick to bundle up everything that he had in the tavern and get out of the way with a solemn nod back to your partner. Nobody thought a thing about some kid wandering around because there were plenty of young workers that were hired as cheap labor if they were paid for the work at all.

It made it all too easy for you to get everything you needed.

The adrenaline was pumping in your veins the entire thing, though, and all you could think about was getting back to the waiting point for Zen to catch up with you. He did, eventually, but you were left in wait underneath an apple tree. Food was always the one thing that you had a weakness for and you figured it would be alright to take from a tree rather than a person.

You were still… traumatized about the incident with Red Hood to try and steal food again.

With a huff, no amount of shaking was enough to get you what you wanted. You weren’t used to climbing trees, but a part of your new duty meant that you had to be fast and able to get the heck out of the way if the guard came around. This kingdom may have been near the sea but the grassland was fraught with a lot of trees. The easiest way to move around without guards tailing you was through the trees.

It was the scaling that was a problem for you at this age. Your arms were too short to reach what you needed. It wasn’t the first time that you were at a disadvantage because of something that was out of your control. When Zen came around to find you, he wasn’t surprised to see you pouting and trying to pretend that you weren’t annoyed.

He called you out on it, too.

“You know, there’s an easier way to get what you want. You just have to be clever to get there,” he offered his advice and handed you a rock. “Now, if you catch reach something and you can’t get your hands on it the way someone with more power can, then you need to improvise. Take that rock, for example, if you aim just right, you should strike the stem and get it to loosen or fall free.”

You were skeptical, of course, but who were you to disregard the tips from someone that hadn’t steered you wrong thus far. So, you took a few steps back and listen to how he advised you on how to sharpen your aim and then you let it go. It missed the apple, and you had to try again, and again, and again. But, your persistence won in the end.

You struck the stem rather than the apple and with a firm shake from the tree after weakening its binds, it came loose and fell into your hands. “I won’t always be around to tell you how to be cunning, so you need to learn how to think fast. That’s the only way you’ll survive bound to Red Hood, understand? If you don’t put in the work, then you’ll never pay him off.”

That was the sweetest apple that you had ever tasted and you had worked for it.

It was also the day that you gained your name. You no longer could use your common name because it would make it easier for the guard to find you and take you down. Zen was the one that looked at you once and called you what you would come to use as your alias without hesitation.

He said that you were a sparrow.

Sparrows are hard workers who work all day long to gather food and ensure their nests stay together with the weather. They are a true symbol of diligence and patience in a life of hard work. If you want to get where you want to be then you have to work for it and Zen was reminding you of that. He had called you a sparrow in the hopes that your hard work would give you your wings someday.

That feeling you had went you worked with Zen all those years in the past? It was a real rush, a rush that made you feel like you were getting back at the people that left you to die in the streets. People with too much money in their pockets. People that didn’t care about anything but getting more and more and more without giving back.

Greed could make a demon out of someone, and when it wasn’t applied to being hopeful for time with the people that you love… it turned a person into a real monster. A monster who couldn’t see anything but their desires and needs that could never truly be completed because they already had everything that they could ever want and it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough for them.

That was what told you that Rika and Red Hood were going to never stop. No matter what they did, it was never going to be enough. Even when they got rid of you and Saeran… that would never be the end of it. That wasn’t something that you could change, no, you knew what was in the hearts of those that had no soul.

If you submitted to everything, then the suffering would know no end. There was something that you had to do and if it wasn’t for Zen, you may have fallen to the darkness and accepted that this was your end. However, if there was one thing that you needed to hear it was that—

No matter who tried to clip your wings and lock you away, you would keep trying to get back to that blue sky.

—

You had to act fast and you couldn’t think it through. You knew that thinking was the source of the problem and that you couldn’t outwit someone that had the advantage. You had to use the element of surprise pray that it worked. So, you did what you knew best, you waited for Saeran to make a move once more and held your breath.

The chains on your ankles kept you bound to the throne but you still could stand up and walk, though not for very far, it was just enough that you could reach him if he wanted it. It was late into the night when he returned to you from taking care of Rika’s orders and the saunter he had in his step told you that he meant to play.

So, you would play.

“That’s no way to greet the man who spared your life,” he said, pointedly, coming to rest two steps in front of you. “What’s the fanfare? Where’s the excitement? You never know when I may decide to pity you. I thought you had more hope than that.”

You didn’t lift your head.

Saeran wanted a reaction. He liked to see people squirm and fall down and as long as you didn’t give him that, he was going to lash out. Your plan was shoddy and you didn’t even know if the crown was going to make a difference in him but Zen said you had to try, and you knew that he was close enough to the former king to know something.

The crown was a part of the curse.

But, was Saeran from the curse of the crown?

You had to know, you had to see for yourself what the answer was. Holding your breath, you could feel Saeran come closer and closer until his breath rustled over your cheek. You could feel him grip your cheek with one of his hands before he lifted your head to make sure that you were looking into his eyes instead of avoiding him.

“There we are,” he smirked. “Isn’t that much better? Look at you, you’re still trying to keep your composure even now. Did all your tears dry up? Did you realize that it’s hopeless to try and fight back against the truth?”

Sucking in a shallow breath, you forced yourself to remain as stiff as possible. “Yes,” you said as if you’d reached a revelation.

Saeran raised a brow at that. He didn’t expect you to say that because he didn’t respond. He seemed to be waiting for your elaboration on the subject as proof of whatever you had learned while you laid in wait for him.

“I was wrong,” you started to say as you felt your hand twitch at your side. Not fast, don’t move as fast, you told yourself. “I was wrong to think that I could outwit anyone. I’ve done a lot of bad things in the name of justice and fairness but really… I don’t know if I was always right. I shouldn’t have tried to take the crown or the gems.”

“Naturally,” his tone was dry.

“And, I’m sorry, Saeran. I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I’m sorry that I hurt Ray too. I know that an apology doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things but you deserve to hear an honest apology from someone,” Your hand began to rise behind him but Saeran was too caught up in trying to search your face for lies and cruelty. He would find nothing.

“Whether it’s the curse that binds you to this castle or something else, neither of you deserved to deal with all of this grief and animosity. I know that Ray dreamed of a kingdom where nobody would get hurt ever again and I know that you dream of that as well, even if you see a different road to get to that place. I will never truly know the pain in your heart, not wholly. I won’t pretend that I do.”

“But, I know what it feels like to be caged. I know what it feels like to be forced to become someone that you aren’t and hate yourself for it. Saeran, I understand that pain, and I wear it on my sleeve every single day. I will never be able to make up for what happened, but I’m never going to stop trying to see this through. That’s why they call me the Sparrow. I never stop trying, no matter what stupid that is.”

His silence, stunned or not, was what you needed to fuel you forward to take back everything that had been done to harm him. It didn’t matter what he did in his life, as long as he wasn’t wearing this crown, he would have the right to choose for himself what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go.

Ray had always dreamed of the sea and freedom.

The thought of him was what motivated you.

And, you thought, whatever Saeran wanted, he had the right to decide for himself what he wanted without the crown forcing him to believe something.

“That’s why I’m willing to burn to ash if it means that you have the right to choose what you want to do with your life, and even if you never can forgive me for what happened, I want you to remember that you made that choice, and nobody forced you to make it. That’s why I—” your hand touched the crown and he realized what you were about to do but it was too late for him to stop you.

“What do you think you’re—!”

You yanked the crown from his crown and tossed it behind you with a heavy clatter to the ground. Far from his reach or your own.

“...”

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Neither of you moved, but the swirling pool of darkness in that room felt lighter.

However, when you looked back at him, his steely was undaunted for the longest moment. He stared at you, and you starred at him. The crown hadn’t made him become Saeran. It had fueled his anger and more, but he was still Saeran. There was no magical flutter that returned Ray to the surface, only the man that you had come to know over these last few days.

“...Saeran?”

“Expecting someone else?” he countered, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. “Am I a joke to you, did you just try to steal my crown, again— even though I’ve bound you in chains like a dog to this throne?! Who do you are?!”

“Your friend!” the frustration poured out of you at the last second as you felt your voice crack and shatter into pieces. “Saeran, that crown is controlling you! The queen charmed those stones with magic and she’s been manipulating you from the start! I know that Ray could see the magic in things, can’t you? He was the one that taught me how to see it! Look at me, look at that crown! Tell me that you see it!”

Your ragged breath tangled with his but he had no choice but to look at the crown.

He saw exactly what you saw, the dark glimmering energy that pooled and seeped from the gems as it sat there on the ground, not hurting anyone but taunting anyone that dared to place it upon their brown without thinking it through. Saeran couldn’t deny that there was magic, but that look in his eyes was of confusion.

He wasn’t proficient in magic, but Ray had mentioned that he studied magic in its technical terms to try and find a cure for his curse.

“You see it,” you continued, knowing that he had. “You see that there’s magic in it. Why would there be magic in your crown, Saeran? That doesn’t seem right, does it? Think about it, think about what’s happened, about what the queen has been telling you, and why she would want to make you upset in the first place. Isn’t magic fueled by your emotions?”

“...What?” the words escaped his lips.

Now, he was confused.

“Saeran, think about all of this, you know the queen closed off the castle to everyone and then it just so happens that she’s working with a man that you’ve never seen of or heard about before, yet you were to become the king and should have been entitled to everything that was going on well in advance to your ascension! She’s trying to use you for her desires and because you trust your mother so very much, you never expected her to do this.”

“But, there’s no denying those gems in the crown,” the flurry of information escaped you faster than you could stop it. “I gave those to Red Hood after Ray helped me escape, the man that demanded that I was Red Hood has been in the castle with you, and he planted them on me before I came to the party. He’s been working with the queen this entire time! Think about this, Saeran, surely you’ve seen her trying to undermine your authority!”

His hands had risen to clutch his head, the impending sign of a headache. Was it possible that magic could overwhelm someone once it was taken away? You knew that she needed to keep adding more and more magic to the crown to control him, that’s what she implied, so did that mean that the overuse on him had taken to wash over him?

“No, no… no!” he hissed, nails digging into his scalp. “No, you can’t— You can’t make sense— That isn’t right! This isn’t right!”

“Saeran… please,” you tentatively reached to touch his cheek. He didn’t jerk away but you could feel tears starting to leak from his eyes as his breath became haphazard once more. “I know it’s not right and I know you’re angry about the magic but—”

And just like that, you watched as he lifted his head and gazed into your eyes, a dazed confusion blurring his features before the watery tears escaped. He looked at you as if he didn’t know you, or if he couldn’t place your face, and then he blinked, those narrowed eyes opening widely as he gasped, those mint eyes looking at you in soft.

“No… no… no…” he breathed, looking at you and then down your body, and then back at his own hands and haggard appearance. “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this isn’t— this isn’t what I wanted—I never wanted to— [Y/N], no!”

“...?”

He dissolved into a flurry of whimpers and whispers that you couldn’t make sense of anymore. It made you think about the last time you’d see him cry. It hadn’t been Saeran who cried like this to you in the stillness of the night about his frustration over the magic that had trapped him. It had been Ray, it had been him.

It was a one in a million chance but you tested the waters, trying to see if that pit in your stomach was right. “Ray?”

He looked at you, and there was recognition in his eyes. That sob in his throat was pushed away as he began to speak again, “It’s all my fault— I was so upset… I… I… I don’t know… I thought he was gone… I thought Saeran was gone…. No, wait... “ he muttered. “I… You… that man…. That man that… said you were Red Hood… you can’t be Red Hood… all I remember is… being upset… wait...”

Did Ray remember what happened?

Wait, what did he mean by Saeran… being gone?

“[Y/N],” he tried again. “Are you Red Hood?”

“He’s Red Hood,” you gently clarified. “He tricked me. He put the stones in my bag and made sure that the guards caught me when I was trying to complete my final task for him. He was… going to… let me go if I took the crown for him, and if I…. if I refused…”

A somber note hit you before you could complete that thought. He had started to undo the locks that rested on your legs.

You looked away from Ray but his hands lowered to take ahold of yours. It gave you the strength to finish, “He said if I refused, that the group would take your life in front of me, and then he’d end mine right after. But, that’s no excuse, Ray. I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I should have tried harder to fight Red Hood. Now, Rika and he have been using the crown to manipulate you, and Saeran.”

His breath was haphazard.

You waited for him to say he didn’t believe you, but it never came. Rather, Ray clung to you and wrapped his arms around you, desperate to not let you go. It made you shut your eyes and choke back your sobs. You missed him, you missed him so much and he was—

“The crown…” he breathed. He was looking beyond you at the crown as if he saw the glimmer of the magic from the gems. He saw it. There was no denying it. You could him hear trying to deny it and let it go, but… there was no way to explain why the crown would be imbued with magic. “Mother… why? I thought… I thought she only knew healing magic… but… that… that’s dark magic, [Y/N].”

His mother turned against him.

You didn’t know what to tell him but you understood that he was upset. He had the right to be, he was being used.

“Ray, we have to get out of here. They’re planning on using us as an excuse to pillage the land, look, look outside,” you shook the panic from your mind. Ray stiffened and looked in the direction of the open window. He could see the smog and the darkness where the sun once was and the two of you rose to look out of the window.

The guard was there and countless people were being taken in chains and weapons were being forged on the ground. It looked like a scene from a nightmare and Ray was trembling the more that he had to see it.

“But, my curse—” he stopped. “I’m trapped here. I can’t leave, [Y/N], but… I… I can get you out of here. You need to go, you need to run away as far as you can.”

“Ray, no, I can’t leave you here—”

A voice spoke from the other side of the room and stunned you to your core as you clung tightly to Ray. “That’s right, Ray, they can’t leave, and neither can you. Tsk, tsk. I should have known not to leave you with this criminal.”

“Mother!” Ray’s widened eye looked back at the blonde curls. “Mother, why is there magic in the crown? Explain yourself, please. I don’t understand!”

“All in due time,” Rika sighed. With a wave of her hand, the crown rose from the ground and flew across the room to rest in her hands. “Now, I hate to force you to do something. Mother knows best, Ray, so, listen to your mother and let go of that criminal.”

Ray wouldn’t let go of you. That didn’t please Rika. She had gone to a lot of trouble to control him and trick him, but now… the dark glimmer in her eyes told you that she was going to do something whether he liked it or not. You were both helpless to the power of a witch.

A witch who planned to take everything that she wanted.

“Mother, even if they were Red Hood, I never would have asked for a war! Or for them to be hurt! What’s happening out there? I wanted peace for our people… I don’t…. I don’t understand… why are you doing this to everyone? Father never would have wanted this.”

“Ray… wait.”

The mention of Jihyun Kim sent a surge of dark magic through the room and that knocked you on your ground. “You know nothing of your father! How dare you speak so crudely to your mother who only wants to protect you and care for you! You cling to a criminal that wanted to throw you away like trash instead of your own family. How dare you!”

You were forced against the wall by the binds of magic.

There was nothing that you could do to protect him from danger.

With a wave of her hand, she compelled Ray to leave you and return to her side where he was forced to sink to his knees in front of her. She gripped his hair with one hand and that dark look in her eyes warned him of what was to come. “I don’t want to punish you, my son, but since you want to throw a tantrum like a child, I will treat you like a child.”

“Stop this, please!” You pleaded with the queen but it fell on no one’s ears. “He doesn’t want to hurt anyone! All Ray wants is to bring harmony to our people!”

Rika’s eyes met yours, and she smiled, broadly. Magic surging into the crown once again with a fiery intensity. “And that’s where our dear Ray is wrong, and that’s where the former king was wrong. The people are pitiful and foolish. Only those on top deserve to receive the gift of God’s good favor, and it was wrong for anyone to think otherwise. So, you will bear witness to the destruction of the last shred of light that exists in that damned Jihyun’s reign. Go to sleep, Ray, I don’t need you anymore. It would have been so much easier had I simply just taken your brother instead.”  

“...!”

A gasp escaped his lips but the magic forced him to hang his head with a slump.

The magic that was forcing your back started to cut into your throat second by second, and it was growing harder and harder to breathe. You tried to grasp at your skin but nothing would stop it and your vision began to cloud.

He was in danger, he was in danger—

Just as the crown was to rest upon his brow once more, it was knocked from her hands and fell to the floor once more, and your body went slack.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 4 - Fiddleford to the Rescue

Stan started when there was a sharp knocking at the front door. He hadn’t thought anyone was coming – but evidently Ford had known, because he jumped up to let them in. The person who stepped inside was a twig of a man, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The guy looked pretty tired – sorta like those people who sometimes slept under the jetty with bloodshot eyes and cans scattered around them. But this man didn’t reek of beer and cigarettes. Blue eyes darted around behind thick glasses before landing on Stan and softening.

“Ah. This is your brother, I ‘spect?” The stranger spoke with a thick accent. Stan hadn’t heard an accent like his before.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Ford was a flurry of motion, darting here and there and packing things in a big shoulder bag. “I need to go, I have to get this barrier up as soon as possible. I should be back by this evening. There’s food in the fridge, I’m not sure what bills I’ve paid recently so there may or may not be hot water, and Stanley, behave!”

With that Ford disappeared, the front door slamming behind him. Stan froze, voice squeaking in a totally cool and manly way.

“Wait – Ford? Where are you-”

Yeah, he was already gone. Leaving Stan alone with this strange man. Stan stood self-consciously in the middle of the lounge, hyper aware of those eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

The stranger broke the silence first, kneeling down to be at eye-level with Stan. “You must be Stanley. I guess Ford forgot ta introduce us. Wouldn’t be the first thing ‘e forgot.” The guy smiled a slightly crooked smile and held out one hand. “I’m Fiddleford, an old… friend of ya brother’s. I’m here to look after ya for a while. Is that okay?”

“…I guess so.” Stan stepped forward hesitantly to shake the man’s hand. Despite its thinness his hand was rough and calloused, worn with work. His smile was infectious and Stan found himself mirroring it. “You can call me Stan. Everyone does.”

“Well then, you can call me Fidds.” Fiddleford’s bright eyes combed over him for a moment before the man started riffling through his duffel bag. “Now, I got some old clothes of my son’s that I figure will fit better than that shirt. You wanna give it a shot?”

Stan nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Who’s your son? Is he coming too?”

“No, Tate’s in California right now.” The man lifted a couple items of clothing. “Alright, let’s take a looksee at what we got.”

 Stanford’s little brother was cute as a button. Well, twin brother apparently, not that that made much of a difference right now. The boy was all gap-toothed grins and twinkling eyes and curious questions. Fiddleford let him choose some clothes he liked – a pirate shirt and a pair of faded yellow shorts – and helped the little kid get dressed. Stan chatted excitedly the whole time.

“S’weird! I just woke up here yesterday and Ford was all old. He’s grumpier now too. So if this is the future how do we know you? When do I meet you? We probably haven’t met yet while I’m this age right? No, I think I’d remember seein’ you even if you were a kid like me! You got a mem-or-ab-le nose. Kinda like mine!” Stan poked his own pink nose to demonstrate. “’Cept mine and Ford’s are wide and yours is long. Does your son have the same nose?”

Fiddleford laughed and slipped the shirt over the squirming boy’s head. There were so many questions, he figured he’d try and answer them in order.

“Ford is grumpy now, isn’t he? And I’m a friend of Ford’s from college. This is the first time we’ve met at all, so you wouldn’t know me even as an adult with all yer memories. And Tate does have my nose, unfortunately.”

Stan blinked up at him owlishly. Fiddleford smoothed down his ruffled cowlick. “So… you know Ford but not me? Why doesn’t future-me know you?” Then Stan shook his head with a smile. “You said college, right? I bet that’s why! Pa says I’m too stupid for college. But o’course Ford got in. He’s real smart, ya know!” The kid finished proudly. Fiddleford hesitated.

“Your father says…” Stanford hadn’t spoken much of his family. Fiddleford was starting to see why. The idea of a man telling his son – his son who couldn’t be any older then twelve – that he was stupid filled his chest with fire.

Fiddleford tried to stamp out the anger before Stan could see it on his face. No sense in scaring the child. Instead he changed the subject, carefully poking at one of Stan’s hands.

“So, ya got hands like ya brother’s?”

“Oh, no, I just got the borin’ five fingers.” Stan waggled his fingers to demonstrate.

“Really?” Well that was interesting. “But yer practically identical otherwise! Well, I guess it makes sense that yer not totally the same, seein’ as you don’t have the same eyesight anyway.”

“Oh, we do.” Stan chirped, leaving Fiddleford flabbergasted.

“But ya don’t have glasses!”

“Oh yeah, I don’t need em ‘cause I’m not smart.” Stan’s smile faltered for a moment before recovering. “Pa says glasses are expensive and Ford needs his, so I don’t. Hey, you got glasses too! You must be smart.”

Fiddleford once again tried very hard to not let his anger show. He must not have done a very good job, because Stan shrank back.

“Er – I’m sorry?”

Darn it, and he’d been trying to get the little tyke to trust him! Fiddleford forced an apologetic smile on his face.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for. I was just thinkin’ I’d like to have a word with yer brother when he gets back.”

Stan still looked dubious, so Fiddleford tried another strategy.

“You know, I reckon Ford’s gotta have a spare set of glasses lying around. Do you wanna look for ‘em, borrow ‘em for a while? The prescription should be close enough. I got some old books a’ Tates you might like and it’ll be easier if you can see ‘em.”

Stan twisted his hands together. “I dunno. Ford got pretty mad when I messed with his stuff before.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, I’m just as adult as him. I think I can make decisions without that worrywart around.”

Just as Fiddleford had thought he would, Stan laughed. “Yeah, he is a worrywart! An’ Ford’s let me borrow his glasses before when we were switchin’ clothes to play a prank on Crampelter. So he can’t get mad now!”

The kid seemed to have immediately forgotten about his upset. That made Fiddleford’s smile come a little easier, a little warmer.

“Well, now that that’s settled, how about we go look for those glasses? And we’ll see if you like any a’ these books. Ya feel like learnin’ about isopods?”

“I have no idea what that is!” Stan whooped.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 _______________________________________________________________

It was nice, Fiddleford reflected, having a child around. He hadn’t interacted with kids since he’d last seen Tate. How long ago had that been…?

Fiddleford made sandwiches for lunch, and they ate while flipping through picture books. Stan especially liked the one with krill and whale sharks. Then the kid had started telling delightful stories about old ships and adventures on Glass Shard Beach, and who was Fiddleford to interrupt?

By evening Stan had worn himself out, and Fiddleford made him a cup of hot chocolate while he decided what to fix for dinner. Of course Ford had little in the way of food. There was some frozen and tinned stuff, but little in the way of healthy foods. Stanford was terrible at taking care of himself.

Fiddleford glanced out of the window at the ever-darkening sky. Sure, he was still hopping mad at Stanford, but… he couldn’t help but worry. Not when the man had been gone all day in the snow. And when his adorable little brother was getting antsy.

“Fidds, when’s Ford gettin’ back?” Stan whined, right on time. “You said he’d be back soon.”

Fiddleford busied himself with looking in the fridge. There were some assorted vegetables lying around, wrinkled with age but not rotten – he could make fritters. Satisfied, he started gathering the ingredients.

“He’ll get here when he gets here.” Fiddleford rooted around until he found a grater. Stan sulked into his hot chocolate. He certainly had Stanford’s stubbornness! Fiddleford wondered if it was a family trait.

As if on cue, there was a commotion outside the front door. Fiddleford tensed. It swung open, and thankfully a familiar figure trudged inside.

“Ford!” Stan squealed in delight. He scrambled from the kitchen table to throw himself at his brother’s legs. Ford, looking snow-flecked and rather frazzled, patted his head absently.

“Yes, yes, hello Stanley. Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and continued making the fritters. Trust Stanford to make a dramatic entrance. Still, he eyed the man as he took off his snow-covered coat and boots. Stanford looked… rough. Not physically, but exhaustion was etched into every line on his face.

Fiddleford tutted and poured the man a coffee. Ford blinked as it was pushed into his hand.

“Oh – thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Didja meet the unicorn?” Stan pulled on his brother’s shirt, his own tiredness evidently forgotten in his excitement. Ford sighed.

“Yes, though she still stubbornly refuses to give me any of her hair. I did manage to obtain the rest of the ingredients though, so as soon as I get the hair I’ll be able to ward the house.”

Unicorn hair? Fiddleford was confused for all of two seconds before he shrugged it off. With Stanford, everything was a surprise. You just learned to roll with it.

And now that Ford was here…

“Stan, wouldja do me a favour?” Fiddleford asked gently. Stan nodded. “There should be a blanket up in the closet upstairs, all red and gold with snowflakes printed on it. It’s my favourite one. Could you go get it for me?”

“Sure.” Stan chirped, darting out of the room. Ford made a sound of confusion.

“I don’t remember that blanket.”

“’Course ya don’t, I made it up as an excuse to get Stan out of the room.” Fiddleford put down the grater and turned to meet Ford’s wary gaze from across the kitchen bench.

“…okay.” Ford said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Stanford.” Fiddleford fixed him with a serious look. “Yer little brother’s a good kid.”

Ford sighed. “Twin brother. We’re twenty-seven.”

“Well right now he’s just seven. And you’d better not mess ‘im up. I’m watchin’ you.” He added with narrowed eyes.

Ford laughed nervously. “Honestly, what do you take me for?”

“A scientist who’s obsessed with his work and has no idea how to care for a child, ‘specially not a child who’s been abused.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “Abused? I can assure you that Stanley hasn’t been abused.”

“I beg to differ!” Fiddleford said sharply. Ford had the audacity to look insulted. “With what the kid’s been tellin’ me, there’s no way he hasn’t been abused. For god’s sake, he doesn’t have glasses when he needs ‘em! And ‘e flinches when I so much as raise my voice – or my hand, for that matter. E’s got bruises all over, too. What am I supposed to think?”

“Stanley… he refuses to wear his glasses.” Ford said weakly. Fiddleford snorted.

“He’s been usin’ yer spare ones all day. Says ‘e likes bein’ able to see for once. In fact, he basically said yer father refused to buy ‘im glasses after his old pair got broken!”

“He’s been wearing my-?”

“Of course you didn’t notice. Have ya even laid eyes on the kid?”

“Of course I have.”

“So you did notice him wearin’ your spare glasses? No wonder ‘e thinks he’s stupid, he can’t read the words on a page two inches from his nose!”

Ford looked devastated. Right now, Fiddleford didn’t care. “But… no, that’s not right. Stanley always told me he hated wearing them.”

“Even besides that, what about the bruises?” Fiddleford challenged. “The kid’s covered in ‘em. And I’m givin’ you the benefit of the doubt here, because I don’t believe you’re the one who’s been roughin’ him up.”

“I – I-”

“So you’ll forgive me for bein’ a little concerned here! What kinda father would I be if I just sat back and ignored this? Yer brother’s been abused, plain and simple.”

Ford floundered. Fiddleford sighed, a little of his anger evaporating.

“Well... I suppose if ya are really twins, ya probably wouldn’t have had a hand in it. An’ I don’t know the full story. But I do know this.” He leveled a finger at Ford’s face. “That kid trusts ya, more than he probably should. An’ we’re gonna have words if you hurt him, or put him in danger, or do anything that’ll cause him harm. The boy’s suffered enough, I’ll not stand around and let it happen again. Ya understand?”

“Yes.” Stanford said quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now that’s outta the way, I gotta ask; why on earth didja not tell me about him before? We went to visit Shermie and his kids during that Christmas break a while back an’ no one mentioned another brother.”

Stanford flushed. “It’s… a family matter.”

Fiddleford leveled a cold stare at him. After a moment Ford sighed and averted his gaze.

“When we were teenagers Stanley sabotaged my one chance at getting into my dream college. He says it was an accident, but… anyway our father kicked him out and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Fiddleford held up a hand. “Hang on. Are my ears decievin’ me? You’re telling me your brother, who got booted outta his own home as a teenager, hasn’t been mistreated? My friend, you’ve got issues.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by Stan’s return. Fiddleford turned his attention to the sheepish boy who was currently wringing his hands and wincing at the doorway. “Um, sorry Fidds. I couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, I musta left it somewhere else. Now, didja wanna help me with makin’ dinner?”

Stan perked up at Fiddleford’s breezy tone, as if surprised he wasn’t in trouble. “Jeez! Can I?”

“Well sure, why wouldn’t you?” Fiddleford flashed the boy a smile. Stan beamed in return and scrambled to join him in the kitchen.

“Pa says cookin’s for ladies and we shouldn’t do it.”

“Well, your Pa seems to be wrong about a lotta things. Now, you know how ta use a grater? I’ll show you.”

Fiddleford could feel Ford’s gaze searing into his forehead. He flicked his attention up from Stan and cooking, just for a moment, to catch the conflicted stare. Ford looked away when their eyes met and cleared his throat.

“I’ll just – um – put these ingredients away for later.”

“You do that.” Fiddleford agreed coolly.

Stanford walked away, more subdued than usual. The sight of his slumped shoulders was enough to send a spark of guilt through Fiddleford’s chest. He knew he was being too hard on the guy – especially with how wrecked Ford was looking – but his blood boiled for this gap-toothed child with his cute curls and nervous laughs.

Fiddleford couldn’t comprehend the idea of kicking out his son. The idea was as foreign to him as the idea that they should all put sticks of butter under their hats and walk on their hands instead of their feet. Tate was his son – his boy, his child. Fiddleford was sure that there was nothing Tate could do that would made Fiddleford throw him out. The idea of Stanley and Stanford’s father kicking out a helpless teen? No matter what mess that teen had gotten himself into, it shouldn’t have happened. He felt a fierce protectiveness rise up in him.

No, and it most certainly wouldn’t happen again. No kid was getting kicked out on his watch. Nor hurt, even unintentionally by an oblivious scientist of a brother. Fiddleford would make sure of it.

He made sure both the Pines boys were fed before packing up his things with the promise of returning tomorrow. Stanley hugged his legs with a surprisingly strong grip – Fiddleford crouched down to return the hug properly.

“I had a real good time today. We’ll have to do this again some time, huh? Now, you got my phone number? Good. Call me if you need anything. Especially if that brother of yours gets into any trouble, okay?”

“Yes sir!” Stan saluted enthusiastically. Fiddleford laughed and ruffled his hair before glancing up to meet Stanford’s eyes. Ford was hovering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of whether to join them.

Fiddleford took pity on him and offered his old friend a smile. “I’ll see ya later, Stanford. Take care of ya brother.”

Ford smiled back nervously. And maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

 _______________________________________________________________

Stanford couldn’t smother the huge yawns that bubbled out of him. Curse this sleep deprivation! It made everything harder than it had to be. His sentences kept being interrupted by his own body’s involuntary reflexes.

Stanley followed him like a baby duck – a rather apt description, actually – while Ford bustled around the house. Ford sighed in annoyance when he very nearly tripped over his brother yet again, upon doubling back to retrieve a piece of equipment he’d forgotten.

“Stanley, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Stan glanced away and rubbed his arm. “Well, I guess. But every time I go to sleep I get these weird dreams. I dunno, I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you?”

Dreams – dammit, Ford had forgotten to warn his brother! He dropped down to be at eye-level with Stan, who blinked at the sudden movement.

“Uh, what-?”

“You’re having odd dreams, correct?” Stan nodded so Ford continued. “Rest assured, they won’t be able to harm you, so long as you never make a deal. If you come across anything triangular or yellow while in a dream you must not talk to it. It will talk to you and try to be your friend. Don’t trust anyone with yellow eyes, even if – no, especially if that person is me. Don’t talk to it and never shake its hand. Do you understand?”

“Um, yeah, but why? This is all soundin’ like Ma’s predictions.” Stan perked up. “Can you tell the future too? Does that mean I can as well?”

Ford sighed. “No, I can’t tell the future.”

“…can you make the weird dreams go away?” Stan questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, when I manage to get that unicorn hair – though I fear it may be a hopeless endeavor.” The weight of the day’s events – how could he ever hope to be pure of heart with all the wrong he had done? – sat heavily on his shoulders. Ford lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. “Go to bed, Stanley, and remember what I said about people with yellow eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, never make a deal, I get it.” Stan paused, eyes flickering to the journal resting in Ford’s pocket and lighting up. “Can you tell me some more stories from your book before bed? Yesterday we got to the hidey-thing!”

“I don’t have time to read you stories, I have important work to do.”

Stan pouted. He looked up at Ford with those big brown eyes that were bigger than usual. It was then that Ford noticed the glasses – yes, Fiddleford had mentioned them, hadn’t he? Stan was wearing Ford’s spare glasses and they threatened to slip down his nose at every movement, far too big for him. They also had the added benefit of making him look very, very cute.

“How about I lend you my journal?” Ford relented. “You can read it by yourself before you go to sleep. I can tell you other stories later.”

Stan hesitated. “…yeah? I can borrow it?”

“So long as you don’t damage it, you may.” Ford dropped the book in his brother’s hands and turned to gather up an armful of equipment. “Go along now.”

Stanley scurried off to read, and Ford descended into the basement where his work waited.

When he emerged at seven thirty the next morning, Stan was gone.