#was literally looking frantically for half an hour 2 weeks ago trying to find it. Got 6 pages deep into Google

[ujustwaitsunshine]

not to brag but I just got THE limited edition 2021 us gp Lewis hat that I’ve been searching for since it sold out everywhere last October!!!

[babyboy-cody]

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

[acourtofsnakes]

Kyr’am - Rogue Chapter 5| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Sick of the countless failures, Moff Gideon decides to call in the big guns. 

Warnings: Not many in this one, but mentions of violence(brief), brief mention of suicide, (literally barely touching on it), does another cliffhanger count as a warning?

AN: Ooooooo, new people 👀

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Wordcount: About 2184, a short one this time for introduction purposes

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo 

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 

Mando’a translation: Kyr’am - Death 

The atmosphere in the light cruiser was… tense. Beyond tense, actually. The tension as almost a living thing, vibrating throughout the room and threatening to explode into destruction if someone said but one thing wrong. 

Moff Gideon stood at the head of the huge table, staring at the holo-image in the middle of it with a look of distinct distaste. His hands were clasped behind his back as he surveyed the image, a young woman wearing a cloak, fire in her eyes and a ridiculously high bounty above her head. His anger and disappointment were evident, obvious to the men and women seated around the table before him. 

There was a break in the air, and then a young woman, Gideon’s Comms Officer and assistant, decked out in the dark grey green uniform walked in. Her even, regimented steps echoed on the floor and she stopped a little way away, offering a quick salute, “Sir, I have just received the report you requested from our spies in the field.”

The air tightened in the room, the people seated around the table holding their breath, hoping it was good. Hoping it wasn’t what had been rumoured. 

Gideon looked away from the table, seeing what his people were holding out for. He turned to his assistant, nodded for her to continue. 

The woman looked across the table, a glint in her eye and a faint smirk dancing across her lips fleetingly. “They got in touch with the contact who was representing you. Apparently, the hunter succeeded in finding the target.”

The collection of people around the table sagged in relief, one even going so far as to rub his eyes as he let out a sigh. 

The assistant couldn’t hide her smirk this time, allowing it for a few seconds, “And then he went rogue.”

Gideon knew this already, but this is a punishment for the people that promised him he’d get what he wanted “Rogue? What do you mean by that, officer?”

“He found the target and began to bring her back as requested. They got into an altercation at another planet, some witnesses said there was a fight in a back alley and the last they saw was the target dragging the hunter back to his ship.”

The table was still, dread beginning to curl around the room like a snake, twining around feet and legs and flicking out a tongue to taste the danger that lingered on the horizon. 

“And then?”

The assistant’s voice came out clear, almost disinterested, “And the next thing that we have, is the tracker and puck being destroyed. As of half an hour ago, no one knows where they are.”

Gideon dismissed her then turned to the table. He sighed, looking at the man who had recommended the Hunter this time, “’The best there is.’ That is what you told me, captain. ‘He’ll have her within a week and be back here to collect his reward.’ Well, captain, it’s been a week.” He spread his hands, his eyebrows raising in a mock expression of wonder. He looked around the room, then back at the captain, “Where is she? Are you hiding her under your seat?” 

The captain swallowed harshly, a sheen of sweat crawling over his skin. He kept his hands under the table because they were shaking, “N-no, sir.”

Gideon shrugged, that false wonder still in his voice too, “Then where is she? I took a great risk in following your advice. And it hasn’t paid off.”

“Sir, please! I didn’t know this would happen. I thought the bounty on her would be enough to keep him straight. My sources said he was running out of money, that he was exchanging favours instead of credits for the repair of his ship. He couldn’t have turned that money down. I don’t know what happened, maybe she tricked him. Used her power to-“

Gideon’s hands slammed onto the table, echoed only by his snarl, “Enough.”  

The captain cut off, unable to stop the pitiful whimper. No one moved, no one looked at him. They all knew what was inevitably coming. 

Gideon pointed at the pain, “Don’t you dare try to make a fool of me. It’s on your authority that this has gone wrong again.” He straightened up, “Every single one of you is to blame. Each one of you let me down. You will be punished. As it is, I have found other means. Expensive means.”

A lady lifted her hand, trembling. 

Gideon’s eyes slipped to her, his eyebrows raising just slightly. 

The lady swallowed, “Everyone knows she hasn’t used that power since she was a child. As far as we know, it doesn’t even exist in her anymore. I.. what’s the point?” 

Gideon looked at her, his dark eyes simmering but he said nothing. 

Only for a man across from the captain to speak up, “She’s right. They say if one of those types doesn’t use their power, they forget how to wield it. The Child repressed his powers for decades.”

Gideon was impatient now, waved his hand dismissively, “And then used it repeatedly in presence of the Mandalorian. It can come back. I have proof that it has. She used her power to heal him.”

“But, sir, we don’t know that-“

The atmosphere in the room noticeably shifted again. This time, the danger became something so much more. 

It became a truly living thing that pressed against the traitors around the table. It licked down their bones, caressed their minds but it sung a song of death and destruction. 

The door slid open, and then a figure walked into the room. 

He was clad head to toe in black, a black so dark it seemed to suck the light of the room. 

His tall, lithe body was armed with weapons of every variety, everything one could possibly imagine and more that were only rumoured, weapons that had been made just for him. 

He stalked into the room with all the ease of a predator walking into the den of some small, helpless animals. And relished in the sheer power he had without even trying. 

The harsh lighting of the room glinted off the blade sheathed down his back. The scabbard was engraved with symbols, symbols that had long since been used. The hilt was as black as his outfit, and intricately carved. If he had unsheathed it, the blade would have been as deep as obsidian, and so sharp it could have sliced off someone’s hand with a mere whisper. 

He stopped at the opposite end of the table to Gideon, shoulders back, posture tall and at ease, but coiled beneath the surface, waiting to strike. 

A hood covered his face, gold embroidery picked out by the lights and snaking around the edges of the hood. 

No light pierced the shadow that fell over his face, keeping him anonymous.  

Clearly the captain realised he wasn’t getting off this ship, because he suddenly broke the deathly silence by laughing. “Seriously? Is it dress up day or something?” He looked around the room at the horrified expressions looking back at him, “What? Are we supposed to be scared or something?” His arrogance was barred by the sweat pooling into the neckline of his uniform, the frantic pulse at his throat.

The night-clad figure said nothing. Merely rested his gloved hands on the table. A simple act. 

But the air in the room vibrated, a warning. 

Gideon inclined his head toward the figure, “Thank you for coming. You understand that I would have left your services be if these fools hadn’t failed me.”

The cloaked man nodded once, a slow incline of his head that somehow said everything he needed to. That he wouldn’t even have paid attention otherwise. 

Another woman at the table, a general, inquired quietly, “His services, sir? Does this mean-“

“Yes, General. It does. Never in my life have I been so spectacularly let down by a group of people before. You were supposed to the best in your fields, yet you couldn’t give me one tiny little girl.”

The woman swallowed, nodded and looked at the table in submission. 

Again, the Captain added another nail to his coffin, “You’re giving this freak the job? If we couldn’t find her, if even Trandoshans and Troopers and two Mandalorian’s can’t get her, what makes you think he’s qualified?” He stabbed a finger toward the figure, who remained silent, a predator watching their next mean. 

Gideon glared at him, losing his patience with this captain, “Because he is the best there is.” 

A snort from the foolish captain, “Oh? And why would you bring him in just now? Why not before?” 

Gideon’s glare could have cut through metal, his words clipped, “Because he has a very unique skill set that I would rather not be associated with using. However, because of this situation and the necessity of obtaining her, it makes him the most qualified.”

“Skill set? Like what? Is he going to bed the girl and then drag her in? Or does he have a-“

The captain’s words were cut off with a gurgle, and his eyes went wide. His chair pushed back and then he was rising from his seat, as if pulled up by strings. Every limb of his body was frozen, rigid. Like he was no longer in control. 

The figure had finally moved, lifting one of those gloved hands in a gesture that was almost casual. He tilted his head within his cloak, and a voice like silk slipped out, far too soft, far too seductive to belong to anyone good, “Perhaps you’ve been living under a rock and you’ve simply never heard of me.” His voice was crooning, desirable. It belonged to the deepest pits, full of monsters and creatures. It was the very darkness that plagued you, seduced you in a voice like honey – and then devoured you. 

Undiluted terror dawned on the captain’s face. He flinched, twitching, trying to claw at the invisible hold on his throat that was slowly crushing his windpipe. 

The cloaked figure lifted his head, like he was scenting the fear oozing from the captain. 

This man was a dark legend. A rumour that you had to be crazy to whisper, for fear of unleashing his dark wrath upon the speaker. Many, many people had heard the rumours of a hunter so precise, so ruthless that he left no trace. People went missing, and then showed up days later completely unrecognisable, bodies so destroyed that even the most advanced robots couldn’t extract enough DNA to give the victims a name. 

His work wasn’t messy though, that’s what made him so terrifying. 

It wasn’t just clean and efficient. It was beautiful. This was a man that relished in his skillset, lived for the hunt and the kill. Breathed it. It ran through his veins, worked the muscles of his heart. 

The fiercest warriors had dropped to their knees and wept for their lives before him. Mere mortals had died just from the sight of him.

As soon as he got the scent of someone, they may as well have ended their own lives to spare the pain. 

Many had. And it still didn’t stop him from finding the bodies and playing.  

The rumours also whispered that he wasn’t human. That he had sold his soul but even the vilest of monsters hadn’t wanted it. They’d taken one look and given it back. He wasn’t born by the Maker; he was something else entirely. He had no trace of soul in him aside from the Force, which he had twisted and utilised for his formidable beauty and indescribable actions.  

Gideon watched him play with the Captain, “You will receive the payment on her head and more. We know your prices and are grateful for your services, you may have whatever you need to assist you.”

The man flicked a finger and the Captain dropped to the ground, some guards dragging him away, “Just stay out of my way. You can keep the kid and the Mandalorian, but the girl is mine when you’re done with her.” The possession in his voice when said the word, “mine” sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the room. There was no room for disagreement, for challenge. They would finish what they needed to do with you, and then you would be given to him. Probably wrapped in a bow. 

Then he was gone, walking out of the room in a preternatural silence. 

This man… he didn’t just exude fear. He was fear. His were the eyes in the dark that watched you walk home.  He was the voice that whispered when no-one else could hear. His breath was the kiss of ice that licked down your spine when you were alone, making you lock the doors, pull the bed covers up higher. But he was like smoke, he seeped through the cracks, through carefully built defences and invaded, slumbering like a beast within, without his host even realising. 

He was death. 

And he was coming for you. 

Previous chapter| Next chapter

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Unusual Way - Loki x Reader - Words: 3,294 (including song lyrics)

A/N: Reader is Silver Shadow. However, this doesn't follow the same 'first meeting/falling in love' sequence as "Hurting Each Other".

Loki and you were best friends and had been for about 2 years now since he moved into the tower. It all started the day he'd moved in while you were out on a mission and no one had the brilliant idea to tell you that you were now sharing your floor with someone.

~ 2 Years Ago~

So there you were, exhausted and dirty from the fight, looking forward to a nice hot shower. You'd already taken off your cape in the elevator and as you got off and walked down the hallway to your bedroom, you started to pull at the zipper of your jacket.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be so forward."

"Who's there?" You yelled, not recognizing the voice that spoke to you. You whipped around, trying to see who it was that was speaking.

"Hello," A man suddenly said, appearing directly in front of you. You throw a quick punch but your hand goes right through him and he disappears. "Over here!" He exclaims, waving to you from a few steps away. You quickly draw one of your knives and throw it at him. Again it goes right through him.

"I said, who are you?" You demand, not having had a chance to get a good look at his face yet.

"Tsk tsk," He says, appearing once more, a few feet now away from you. "So impatient." As he talks you focus on the vase setting on the hallway table behind him and start drawing it towards you. If you time it just right, you can either hit him or, if he's not there again, stop it in time before it hits you. "I am Loki, of Asgard! And I am burdened wi-OW!" He yells as the vase hits his head. "Will anyone ever let me finish that thought?"

“Loki?” You screeched. “What are you doing here? Do the others know?” You asked, rushing up to the admittedly handsome man. Even during his attack on New York you couldn’t help but go a little starry-eyed at his presence.

“I am here to help. I,” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head again. “I’m here to work with you and your little team.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh! Well, I, uh, sorry about that," You stuttered, gesturing to his head. "Here, let me fix that." You reached up and touched the back of his head gently.

"Thank you," He replied with a small smile.

"Let's start over," You grinned. "Hi, I'm Y/N. I guess I'm your new floormate." He grinned back, still surprised by your kindness.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

~ 6 Months Later ~

"C'mon, Y/N!" Loki yelled down the hallway. "The pairs' free dance is about to begin!" You ran out of the bathroom, socks sliding on the hardwoods.

"Woah!" You exclaimed, sliding, or rather bodyslamming, into him. He of course caught you easily, being used to this occurrence, and laughed. A few minutes later you were both sitting on the couch with a rather large bowl of popcorn between you. "Those twizzles were completely out of sync. That's going to ruin their score."

"Perhaps," he commented, tossing another buttery snack in his mouth. "But their lifts have been perfect unlike the other couples." You shrugged and continued watching. You found yourself shivering, however, as you continued watching the programs.

"Has the thermostat gone down?" You asked. Loki got up and checked.

"No, are you cold?" He, of course, didn't notice any difference since he was, not only a Frost Giant, but also wearing a lovely sweater, you thought.

"Yeah, must be the ice," You joked, nodding at the television. You eyed his soft, grey sweater once again and decided that, even though it looked absolutely stunning on him, you needed it more.

"Um, would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater?" You asked nervously. He looked mildly surprised but quickly pulled it off and handed it to you. "Thanks," You said quietly. The past couple weeks you'd realized you had developed a minor crush on your new best friend. You didn't say anything, however, for fear of ruining said friendship. "It smells like you," You chuckled, pulling the jumper close around you. Loki blushed brightly and apologized.

"Sorry, so sorry. I can-I can get a new one from the wash." He went to get up, face still flushed in embarrassment.

"Loki, it's fine," You replied, stopping him. "I don't mind. Thank you for lending it to me." He smiled sweetly at you in reply.

"You're welcome. After all, what are friends for?"

~ 1 Year Later ~

"He's too pretty for his own good, Nat!" you complained, throwing quick punches at your sparring partner.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if he knew what's good for him, he would be so perfect all the time!" You blocked three punches and landed one of your own. "If he doesn't I might have to take matters into my own hands."

"Meaning you'll finally ask him out instead of driving us all crazy pining over him like you have been for the past year and a half or so?" She retorted with a smirk, flipping you to the ground and pinning your arms behind you. You groaned and rolled out from under her, standing and holding your hands up in defeat.

"No! Of course not! It means I'd have to ugly him up a little." Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Like you'd ever have the guts! C'mon! Be honest with yourself! You liked him since New York. Just put on your big-girl pants and tell him! And if you can't find yours, I can lend you mine," She teased, playfully slapping your butt.

"Watch it, Widow!" you snapped. "I'm going to the conference room if it's not in use. I don't want to be disturbed, ok?"

"Fine, just let me know all the juicy details when you finally have the guts to go back to your floor, ok?" You rolled your eyes and walked out.

"Finally alone," you sighed, tossing your gym bag in a chair and slumping down in another. "FRIDAY?”

"Yes, Miss Y/N?" The AI replied.

"Please shut the blinds and lock the door. Emergency override only."

"Yes, Miss." You closed your eyes, tears threatening to slip through.

"FRIDAY, shuffle Linda Eder from my library."

"Of course," The AI replied. When I Look In Your Eyes started playing and you leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes and tuning out the rest of the world. You were so focused on your music and trying to figure out your own feelings that you didn't hear the door open. The next song started and you chuckled humorlessly.

"This one's for you," You said to yourself, thinking of your best friend. You sang along as Unusual Way played.

“In a very unusual way, one time I needed you

In a very unusual way, you were my friend

Maybe it lasted a day, maybe it lasted an hour

But somehow it will never end

In a very unusual way, I think I'm in love with you

In a very unusual way, I want to cry

Something inside me goes weak, something inside me surrenders

And you're the reason why, you're the reason why

You don't know what you do to me

Don't have a clue

You can't tell what it's like to be me

Looking at you

It scares me so that I can hardly speak...

In a very unusual way, I owe what I am to you

Though at times it appears I won't stay, I never go

Special to me in my life, since the first day that I met you

How could I ever forget you, once you had touched my soul

In a very unusual way...

You made me whole”

When you finished you thought you heard a noise behind you but when you turned around there was no one there. You shrugged it off as your own overactive imagination and got up, gathering your stuff. When you got back upstairs, you found Loki in the kitchen. "Thought you might like some lunch," He explained.

"Oh, thanks," You replied, sitting down and letting him serve you. After a few minutes of silent eating you decided you needed to say something. "Loki, I-"

"Y/N, I-" You both laughed, having spoken at the same time.

"You first," You both said. Laughing again, you shook your head and motioned for him to go on.

"Y/N, I must confess something. I-" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I wasn't going to say anything because I was afraid of how you'd respond but," He chuckled nervously. "I believe I've fallen in love."

"Oh!" You gasped. You set down your fork, losing your appetite quickly. "So who's the lucky lady? Do I know her?" You asked, taking a sip of water trying to look casual.

"Yes you do," He replied, smirking. "She's very beautiful and talented. She's kind and helpful to everyone. And most importantly she-"

BZZT BZZT

"Uh, sorry," you said, looking at your ringing phone. "I should take this. It's Steve." Loki looked upset but nodded. "Hello?"

"Y/N? We've got a problem. Is Loki with you?"

"Uh, yeah, he is. Cap, what's wrong?" Loki got up and moved closer to listen in on the conversation.

"We just got intel on a new Hydra base. This one's different though. They have too many defensive procedures in place for us to just attack. We need someone on the inside. That's where you and Loki come in."

"You're sending us to work undercover in a base?!" You screeched.

"Yes, pack a few things and be on the helicarrier in an hour. I'll finish briefing you then."

Working on the inside was, of course, much harder than you'd expected. Thankfully no one here knew you from your actual Hydra days so that made it easier. You just hadn't expected being separated from Loki for so long. Especially after your interrupted conversation, you wanted to talk to him again. Steve assured you, though, it would be a quick mission and you could get back to your normal life within a few weeks.

~ 6 Months Later ~

"You have exactly 2 minutes to get out before this whole place blows, you got that?" Cap yelled through your comms. The mission had gotten complicated and had extended to 6 Months for you both. But now you and Loki had apparently collected enough info for Cap and the others to finally come and blow it all open. Although, none of you had expected a literal explosion. You grabbed the last of the information you needed and booked it out of there. Once you made it into the clearing where the others had regrouped, you looked around frantically as Cap took a head count. "Loki's not out yet!"

"What!" You exclaimed. "There's only 30 seconds!" Suddenly your comms crackled to life.

"Found...girl…trapped," Loki said. The static made it impossible to understand the sentence fully but you understood what he meant.

"Loki! Get out!" Steve yelled.

"I'm going in," You said. Steve yelled to stop you but you were too quick. You teleported in and found the two, trying to shelter themselves in a corner. "Loki!"

"Y/N?" He exclaimed, turning to see you. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to rescue you, you idiot! Now hold on." You reached out and grabbed Loki's and the girl's hands and teleported out just as the building exploded. Cap immediately went to help the girl, leading her back to the helicarrier.

"So," Loki said, looking at your hand still gripping his. You impulsively gave him a hug, the thought that you could have lost him starting to sink in. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," You replied, pulling away quickly. "I just-"

"Loki! Y/N! C'mon!" Cap called out. You were interrupted once more but ran to the helicarrier and rode back home in silence. When you landed back at the tower, you rushed to your bedroom and flung yourself on the bed face first.

"I need a life," You groaned. You heard Loki calling out for you so you rushed into the bathroom and quickly turned on the shower hoping that he would think you were in there and leave. Once you didn't hear him anymore you decided it actually was a good idea to take a shower so you adjusted the temperature and got in. A few minutes later you found yourself lost in the magical world of shower thoughts. Not wanting to get upset again, you decided on music. "FRIDAY, shuffle my library," You said.

"Right away," It replied. As you were dressing a few songs later, Unusual Way started playing and you thought back to the day you'd left for the mission. You sang along sadly, once again thinking of the man you loved who, apparently, loved someone else.

"You don't know what you do to me

Don't have a clue

You can't tell what it's like to be me

Looking at you"

You opened your door to go to the kitchen and Loki stumbled in. "Were you leaning on the door?"

"Maybe," He admitted, blushing. You stared at him, gesturing for him to explain. FRIDAY paused your music since you were talking and he glanced up at the ceiling. "I wanted to talk to you but I heard the shower start so I was going to leave but then I heard you singing and-"

"I don't like performing," You snapped, quite embarrassed that he'd heard you singing that song especially.

"But I want to hear you sing. Especially that song, you sing it so beautifully."

"How would you know? You heard me through a door," You scoffed. Pushing past him you walked out into the hallway, pulling your door shut behind you.

"Not six months ago I didn't." That stopped you in your tracks. Spinning around on your heel you marched back up to him.

"You heard me when?"

"In the conference room, the day we left for the mission. I'd gone to watch you practice and see if maybe you wanted to practice with me a little but Natasha said you'd left already. She told me where you were and that you didn't want to be disturbed but," He chuckled softly. "Has that ever stopped me?" You laughed and shook your head. "Well, I heard you singing and I decided to leave you be."

"Oh well, thanks I guess," You said, smiling softly, still embarrassed but not as mad anymore.

"May I ask, who were you singing to?"

"What do you mean?"

"When the song started you said 'this one's for you'. Who did you have in mind?"

"Oh," You said, surprised. You blushed brightly and shook your head. "Just someone I care for very much I suppose."

"You suppose?" He teased.

"Ok! I do care about him! Geez! You're as bad as Nat sometimes!" He laughed loudly and you could help but smile wider. You loved when he laughed like that, a real laugh that reached his eyes and filled the room. As you walked into the kitchen and sat down at the counter together, you quickly remembered your conversation at lunch that day though and frowned. "Unfortunately I don't think he quite thinks of me the same way."

"Why's that?" He asked, brows furrowing.

"I am quite sure he has his eyes on another girl."

"Is it the Captain?"

"Oh goodness no!" You immediately replied. "No, definitely not." His eyes suddenly lost their joy and he seemed almost scared to ask his next question. He got up and went to the window, putting quite a bit of space between you.

"Is it my brother?" He asked quietly.

"No! No no no! Never!" You exclaimed. You actually shuddered at the mental image. Realizing what needed to be done you teleported yourself in front of him with your back to the window. He startled and jumped back quickly. You smirked and stepped closer. "I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not a fan of blond's."

"Perhaps Banner then?" He stammered, trying to come up with an idea. You could not believe how clueless he could be.

"What? Ew! No!" You pretended to gag. "I like someone more fun, more mischievous," You grinned.

"Misch-oh," He breathed, finally figuring it out. You looked away, feeling embarrassment set in again. "Well, Y/N, I-"

"Look, I know you were trying to tell me before we left that you're in love and I couldn't be happier for you and I wish you all the best but I just needed you to know, ok?" You cried.

"But Y/N! You don't-"

"I'm sorry," You said, trying to run past him to lock yourself up in your room.

"Not so fast," He said, grabbing your arm.

"Wha-" You were cut off by a pair of lips meeting yours. He quickly pulled away, grinning like mad.

"You don't know what I've been trying and wanting to tell you! The girl I love is you, Y/N! I love you!"

"Me?" You squeaked, smiling giddily. He nodded and you laughed. "I cannot believe it. We've been idiots haven't we?"

"Most certainly," He agreed. He gave you another quick kiss and looked in your eyes. "I think I've loved you since we met but you know when I fell in love with you?"

"When?"

"When you borrowed that grey sweater and never gave it back." You gasped, eyes widening in surprise.

"I didn't realize I never returned it!"

"Oh sure! You wear it all the time!"

"I do no-oh," You paused, thinking about your closet. "Maybe I do," You chuckled. "Well, I actually liked you from the first time I saw you."

"When I scared you coming off the elevator?"

"No, 2012," You whispered. Loki stared at you, quite surprised. "I knew what you were doing was wrong but," You sat down on the couch, having wandered into the living area. "Somehow I understood you."

"Y/N, I don't know what to say. I, well, I was a very different man then and-"

"And you were pretty," You deadpanned.

"Ah, so my irresistible charms strike again." You both laughed and he sat beside you. "Y/N, I think we've been fooling ourselves for far too long. Now, you love me, right?"

"Yes!" You said emphatically.

"And I love you, right?"

"I sure hope so!" He grinned and you wondered where this was going. He stood up and took your hand in his.

"Well then, I should wish to officially court you if that should please you and have your approval," He said, bowing slightly.

"I accept," You replied immediately. You stood up and gave him a big hug. "Oh, Loki, thank you."

"You're welcome, my love. But I hope you know what this means."

"What?" You asked, pulling away just in time to see his smirk.

"It means you're no longer allowed to hog the popcorn bowl on skate night!"

"No," You retorted. "It means that as your girlfriend I can now officially tell you to get your own!" He gasped, playing offended.

"Why! I'm wounded!" He cried, holding his hand over his heart.

"Does this help?" You teased, placing your hand there instead.

"No," He smirked. "But this might," He said, pulling you in for another kiss. "I will never tire of that."

"Nor I," You sighed contentedly. "But we must stop for now."

"Why?"

"It's skate night and I need to get the popcorn ready!"

"Go sit down," He smiled. "I'll get it ready."

"Aw! How sweet!" You squealed. "Alrighty then." You walked back to the couch as settled in. "Loki, dear?" You called out towards the kitchen.

"Yes, darling?"

"Remember, 2 bowls!"

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

@darkacademicfrom2021

@lokiwhxre

@loki-laufeyson965

@eclipsedplanet

Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@whatafuckingdumbass

@ladylulu143

@lokislittlesigyn

@gaitwae

@mysticunicorn7

@kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay

@thoughts-and-lovely-illusions

@for-hearthand-home

@lokistoriesblog

[dhwty-writes]

A Health Hazard

This took a lot longer to write than it had any right to. The first 1.5k words were written in under 2 hours, the rest in thrice that time. I'm done with today and this prompt. Written for day 3: Reading by the fire/cuddling by the fire of @witcher-and-his-bard‘s winter prompts Have fun!

Summary: Geralt of Rivia is bored. This hasn't happened in forever. Literally. He learns to understand Jaskier's whining a lot better. 

Warnings: none, besides the fact that this is unedited

Read on AO3

All things considered, it had taken a surprisingly short time for the impossible to happen. Apparently, all that it took was three weeks. Three weeks cooped up in Jaskier's generously-sized lodgings in Oxenfurt with nothing to do and lo and behold, Geralt of Rivia was bored. Bored! Could you imagine that?

It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. After five days he finally hadn't felt the need to rise with the sun and had let Jaskier kiss him goodbye, running late for a lecture, while he turned over and slept in. He couldn't remember when he had last done that. Truth be told, he couldn't remember if he'd ever done that.

Certainly not since he'd gotten to Kaer Morhen; there was no slacking in the witchers' keep. He briefly wondered if passing out after a fight and waking up days later could count as sleeping in. Probably not.

No, sleeping in was something for the safe and comfortable, and for the first time since he could think Geralt could count himself among them. All thanks to Jaskier, of course, who did his best to spoil his lover rotten. All on the cost of the Oxenfurt Academy, naturally.

The Academy spared no cost or effort to ensure the comfort of their lecturers—and Jaskier wasn't just any lecturer, he was probably the most popular bard on the continent. Geralt had first realised that Jaskier was rich when he had seen his personal study, stocked with books right up to the ceiling. Most of them were beautiful leather-bound tomes, written by hand with detailed pictures. He had felt a bit faint when discovering that some of them were in the second row.

No matter what Jaskier said about gifts from colleagues and magical innovations called a printing spell, books were immeasurable luxuries. And the bard owned close to a hundred of them. Personally.

Still, Geralt had been hesitant, at first, to make use of the private bath that came with the four-room apartment, or to call upon a servant to fetch him things. That was until Jaskier had told him outright how much they paid him for a single lecture, let alone several of them each day for months. If they were willing to pour that much money down the drain, he couldn't really feel bad about it.

So, the following days and weeks Geralt allowed Jaskier to teach him how to enjoy himself. He learned how to sleep in, indulged in almost daily baths, spent his days reading novels and poems out of Jaskier's personal collection. He didn't protest when the bard ordered too much food. Didn't comment on the overabundance of sweets—he even admitted he liked it. And when Jaskier asked for too exotic spices he only raised his eyebrows.

Once he had even ventured into the extensive Academy library—Geralt had never seen so many books in one place in his entire life—to find a collection of chivalrous legends Jaskier had told him about. He had been welcomed by an overly polite librarian, who had gone ahead to recommend him a dozen other books with the same topic, complete with annotations noting upon all the different possible interpretations. And if that hadn't been enough, he had been offered to take them with him. All of them. At once. As long as he liked. With no credentials but the name "Pankratz". He couldn't fathom how the library hadn't been robbed empty yet. When he had told Jaskier so, he had only laughed and kissed him gently, calling him a silly witcher.

It all had culminated when later that day, after Jaskier had ordered their dinner to be brought up to their rooms, it had been Geralt to stop the servant by the arm and ask for a bottle of wine.

"Right away, sir," the servant had answered. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Umm-" After a quick glance back to Jaskier, who had smiled encouragingly, he had added: "Est Est?"

He had half expected to be reprimanded, but the servant had only looked at him as if that had been obvious. "The year, sir. Do you have any preferences for the year?"

"I hear 1260 was especially good," Jaskier had piped up and that had been the end of that. They had had a very nice evening and an even nicer night, albeit neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep.

The problem was that since then over a week had passed. Geralt had read through all the books he had borrowed and leafed through a number of volumes of Jaskier's personal collection. He wasn't feeling like reading anymore. He had visited several taverns to play Gwent, but that too was interesting only for so long.

He had taken Jaskier up on his offer and accompanied him to a few lectures, but that had grown boring, too. Of course, he could talk about his adventure and the content of the poems, but that wasn't what Jaskier and his students were talking about. Instead, they lead very heated discussions about rhymes and metaphors and what Jaskier called a meter ("It's like a rhythm, Geralt."). But in the end, he didn't care if the rhyme was a pair or not, or if the rhythm was an asbestos or a dromedary or something.

He flopped down on the couch with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh. Jaskier had returned from his last lecture an hour ago and was now holed up in his study doing... something. As if him being away all day wasn't bad enough, he had to continue working afterwards!

Geralt sat up with a start. Shit, was that how Jaskier felt all year round on the Path? It was a horrifying thought; no wonder the bard was so whiny all the time. Well, Geralt was different. He certainly wouldn't stoop so low. No, he definitely wouldn't whine.

 ~*~

 "Jaskier," Geralt whined from his place on the extra armchair they had acquired the previous day. "Are you done yet?"

The poet mouthed some words along while he frantically scribbled them down on yet another snippet of parchment. "Almost, darling, give me a minute," he muttered absentmindedly just like he had half an hour ago.

Geralt threw his head back and groaned loudly. He was going mad; he was sure of it. It was not normal for people to go such a long time without someone charging at them with swords or claws or dirty underwear. It could not be healthy. "D'you think I should talk to Shani?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jaskier mumbled under his breath, flipping through the hundreds of pages of notes he was keeping.

"Hmm." So Jaskier agreed that boredom was a serious health hazard. He drummed his fingers on the armrest. Maybe he should go do it right away?

He got to his feet and was almost at the door when he halted. No, it was late already, sundown a few hours past. He walked back to the armchair. But maybe-

"Geralt," Jaskier said with a heavy sight and put down his pen. "Love. You're pacing." 

"Really?" The witcher grit out. "Wouldn't have noticed."

"Can you just-" He rubbed at his temples. He looked incredibly tired. "I'm sorry, five more minutes, alright? Then we can do whatever you want, what d'you think of that."

"Hm." Geralt thought that was bullshit and that Jaskier should take a break.

But the poet was too engrossed in his own mind to even hear it.

'Alright then,' he thought and sat back down, arms crossed. 'Five more minutes.' He could manage five minutes of meditation. Easily.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, waiting for the calm to settle over him. What followed were probably the longest five fucking minutes of Geralt's life.

No sooner were they over that his eyes snapped open and he rushed over to his bard, holding him close from behind and nuzzling against his neck.

Jaskier chuckled softly. "Hello there. Five minutes over already?"

"Yes," Geralt said resolutely. "What're you writing anyways?" he asked, trying to peer over his bard's shoulder.

Still scribbling, Jaskier answered: "A novel, dear."

"A novel?" he replied and pulled back a little. "Since when?" Jaskier never wrote novels. Songs and poems, yes, and on one memorable occasion a play, too, but they had both agreed that it was horrid and that he should stick to shorter stuff.

He shrugged and slammed the piece of paper onto one of the piles. Apparently, there was an order to the chaos. "The day before yesterday, I think? Didn't really pay attention."

Geralt snorted. That went without saying. "Please tell me you didn't write all that in-"

Jaskier gasped softly and pulled up another sheet of paper. "Shh, give me a minute, love, else I'll forget this sentence. Oh fuck, this is so good-"

He bared his teeth. "You said-"

"Please, Geralt," Jaskier begged. 'Fuck.' The cursed bardlet knew damn well that he couldn't resist him; not with the pure desperation in his voice.

So, Geralt contented himself with grumbling displeased and pressing his nose against Jaskier's neck, while he waited for the scratching of the quill on paper to finally subside.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long for Jaskier to slam the quill down and forcefully push the paper away. "Done," he declared, exhaustion plain in his voice. "I'm done for today."

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure." The tiny pause was enough for Geralt to know that, no, Jaskier wasn't done in the slightest. If not for him the poet would probably stay up until the early hours of morning, crafting one masterful line after the other. Until he'd inevitably collapse from the exhaustion, smudging the ink of his uppermost sheet of paper all over his face.

He couldn't fathom how much self-control it cost Jaskier to turn around and ask: "So, what is bothering you so terribly, my beloved witcher?"

Geralt glared at him defiantly. It took him all of three seconds to cave. "I'm bored," he complained and frowned.

The effect was instantaneous and his expression grew soft. "Oh, my dear, I'm terribly sorry."

There was something about Jaskier's voice, something about his touch, about the way he brought Geralt close for a gentle kiss. Something that made him go from wanting to believe his words so badly to actually believing them.

The smile on his bard's face was nothing short of adorable when he asked: "Anything I can do about it?"

"Hm." Well, he could think of quite a few things to bide their time.

Before he could voice any of them, though, Jaskier continued: "Yeah, that's what I thought." He stood up and took his hand. "Come on, Geralt, I'm dead on my feet. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, then we can figure that out."

He gladly let himself be led. As long as it meant spending time with Jaskier, he was hardly about to object. The poet flitted around their apartment, collecting pillows and blankets, while he sent Geralt off to heat the kettle and get them some tea, all the while humming with excess energy.

Not fifteen minutes later Geralt found himself on the floor in front of the fireplace with a lapful of bard who was cursing quietly whenever he sipped his too-hot tea and inevitably burnt his tongue. Geralt couldn't help but smile as he cradled his Jaskier closer to his chest.

"What's your novel about?" he whispered into his ear.

"Oh, it's a romance!" he replied cheerfully.

Geralt pulled back, a horrible thought dawning on him. "Jaskier...," he growled. "Please tell me you're not writing a romance novel about us."

"Well," the poet drawled and Geralt groaned. So that was a yes. "I am not writing about Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, and Jaskier the bard."

"But?"

"But it might be that the two protagonists are a chivalrous monsterslayer and his loyal painter companion."

"Jaskier...," he pleaded even though he knew it was useless.

"What? In my defence, it was you who dragged in the knightly ballads!"

"Hm." That was a shit defence and they both knew it. Unwilling to start an argument, though, he just pulled Jaskier closer against his chest and leaned his forehead against his shoulder. "Tell me more."

And tell him more he did. Thank the gods it was so easy to get Jaskier rambling. He told him about the two protagonists, Eric and Dandelion, who had met shortly after the artist had abandoned the court; he had been living at, to find real inspiration out in the world. He was, apparently, entirely insufferable and a notorious womanizer-

"What?" Geralt interrupted him with a quiet chuckle. "Next you tell me he set out into the world to draw nude portraits of all his lovers."

"Oh no!" He felt Jaskier tense up before even the lament had left his mouth. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, that's brilliant, I-" His mouth snapped shut. His eyes flitted around nervously as he was obviously contemplating what the worse fate was: abandoning his lover or risking the loss of an idea.

Geralt quickly made the decision for him as he opened his arms. "Go on, bard," he said with a soft smile. "Write it down before it's gone again." He had lived with Jaskier long enough to become well acquainted with all of his sorrows.

The smile he got in return was almost worth it. "You're the best, I love you, I'm so sorry," he blabbered, scrambling to his feet. He pecked him on the mouth with a quick: "Be right back."

'No, you won't,' Geralt thought adoringly as he watched him bolt to his desk. "Just bring something to write with when you do!" he called after him and leaned back against the couch. He couldn't quite bring himself to wipe the lopsided grin off his face.

It was going to be a long winter. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 2

“Under the Knife” - Part 2

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2,500-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talks of murders, talk of crime scenes, cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List:

@fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

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

After your meeting with Jack, you filled out some paperwork and made it official: You were going to be his profiler for any case that he wanted to call you in for. And apparently he already had one building. 

“We have a suspected serial killer hitting close to home. Three killings in Montclair, Lorton, and Fredericksburg.” As he said the Virginian cities, Jack plopped 3 case files in front of you and moved to the board full of evidence that he had.

“Oh! We’re starting right now? O-Okay.” He turned from the board to look at you with a sort of incredulous way. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” 

“I mean, we literally just signed the papers. I thought I would have a night to prepare instead of being thrown right in.” You said the truth without seeming ungrateful or annoyed, which was good. But you instantly started to nervously ramble as Jack nodded and walked back to his desk. “But if we need to start right now, I can. I just wasn’t ready for--”

“You’re right. We’ll start talking tomorrow. For now, take those files, do your homework, and report here at 9AM. We’ll go to the lab and introduce you to Beverly, Price, and Zeller.” Jack smiled and motioned toward the door. 

“Thank you. I will see you tomorrow morning!” You tried to be professional but also show that you were actually excited to work with him. 

“See you tomorrow.”

After putting the files securely in your bag, you headed to your apartment. You put the files on your dining room table before you hung up your coat and work bag. You checked your watch. You had dinner plans with Hannibal in an hour and a half. You stood between your room and the table that the files were seated on. You fidgeted with your ring for a few seconds as you debated on whether or not to start catching up on the case now or after dinner. 

“I can read over the first one and then get ready for dinner.” You told yourself as you pulled out the semi-comfy chair and opened the file. 

Case: #566-A

This case was from 6 weeks ago in Montclair. Ballsy to be close to the FBI and kill people. There were two victims: Dr. Everet and his wife Whinnie. They were found dead in their shared bedroom in their upper-class house. A nice upper-class place thanks to being a doctor. 

Whinnie looked like a murder that you would find in an armed robbery case: Quick throat slit, not much thought or motive into it, left on the floor to bleed out. Dr. Everet on the other hand was what you assumed grabbed Jack’s attention.

Dr. Everet was in the middle of their bed. The autopsy report claimed that the cause of death was exsanguination which made sense considering he was in pieces. Everet was cut at every major joint. His arms were separated from his shoulders, his legs from the pelvis, his thigh from his knee, his forearm from the elbow, and so on and so forth down to his fingers and toes. The report showed that there was a high level of paralytics in his system. So you make him sit there while you cut him apart. That’s why there are no defensive wounds. He had to lay there and endure all of that...

Why was Everet presented like this while his wife was a simple throat slit?

You made some notes in your book, making sure to write out questions to ask the team when you met up with them tomorrow. With every note you made, you found yourself going back to the case file and trying to connect dots. You soon realized that you couldn’t begin to connect those dots until you looked at the other files. 

Without much thinking, you opened all three files, quickly skimming over each of them and writing out the main points that stood out. You were supposed to be at Hannibal’s at 7 o’clock and it was only 5:45. It didn’t take that long to get to his place.

All of the murders happened 2 weeks after the other, starting 5 and a half weeks ago. Dr. Everet was about 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten was about 4 weeks ago, and Dr. Loriet was about 2 weeks ago. Which means this killer is bound to strike again soon if this time frame is important to him.

They all have at least one victim that is treated like a paralyzed piece of artwork like Dr.Everet and at least one victim thrown to the side and killed quickly. The ‘pieces of art’ were all doctors, the others were their husbands or wives.

They all were in different cities in Virginia but close enough to make a solid assumption that this is the same killer.

You were scribbling out a note to ask about if there were any particulates found in any of the bodies when your phone buzzed on the table next to you. You didn’t even look at the screen, you just hit the answer button and put whoever was calling on speakerphone.

“(Y/N) speaking.” 

“Good evening, (Y/N).” The thickly accented voice rang through your speaker and stopped your writing mid-word as you looked from your phone to the files that were now spread out across your small tablespace.

“Dr. Lecter! Hi! Good evening! Sorry, I was um...  caught up in something and didn’t even register who was calling!”

“No need to apologize. I was just wondering if I should still expect you tonight?” You dropped your pen as you frantically looked at the time on your phone. It was 6:15PM. You quickly started to shut the files and stand up muttering a few curse words as you did. “I take it you got distracted?

“Yes! I’m sorry! But I am still coming over as long as the invitation is still good.” You picked up your phone and walked to your room to start to quickly figure out a nice outfit that didn’t look too much like a work outfit or too fancy. “I am getting ready now!”

“As I can hear.” You could almost hear the slight smirk he most likely had on his lips from hearing you fumble around your small space. 

“I should be there right around 7 and I’ll explain myself, I promise.” 

“I will see you then, my dear.” Hannibal hung up while you were slinging your work shirt into your laundry bin. You couldn’t help the smile that spread as you thought about how he called you ‘my dear.’ You know it's probably nothing more than a common nickname for any woman in Hannibal’s life, but it still felt good to be called something other than your real name. 

~~~~~~~~

Somehow you had managed to avoid a lot of major traffic and pull up to Hannibal’s home right at 7 o’clock. He must have heard your engine or seen your headlights because as you got out of your car and made your way to his front door, it was already open with him waiting for you with a small smile on his lips. 

“Right on time.” 

“Did you doubt me?”

“Never.” Hannibal moved to the side to let you in. You were instantly hit with the scents of whatever he was whipping up in his kitchen. 

“One day you’ll have to teach me how to make something really fancy just so I can show off next time I have someone over.” You shrugged off your bag and went to hang it up in the closet, but Hannibal beat you to it.

“Someone like a partner?” He was so good at hiding any sort of inflection in his voice, but you could have sworn that you detected a bit of jealousy. You slightly laughed at the idea of having any sort of romantic partner right now.

“I was thinking more along the lines of my brother. You know I don’t have much of a social life outside work.

Hannibal motioned for you to walk towards the kitchen, you did so and he was right behind you. 

This was normal for the two of you. You tried to have a meal or at least coffee together once or twice a week to give both of you a break from whatever the world was dishing out to you that week. You had met as colleagues when you worked together on a project for the FBI. But now you both were in a comfortable friendship. There was a pang in your heart that wanted to explore the idea of being more than friends or coworkers with him, but you doubted Hannibal felt the same. If he did, he wouldn’t show it due to his connection with your brother and out of respect for you. So the two of you continued this dance of being extremely friendly but too scared to make a move or speak up.

You poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter as Hannibal reached into the refrigerator for lemon juice and finished up cooking. 

“How was your day today?” You ask him, as you take a sip.

“It was alright. Met with patients, got further in a drawing, figured out what to cook for a beautiful lady as a congratulation of sorts.” Hannibal quickly looked up at you as he said the last half of that before turning to the stovetop. You felt a very small blush creep on your neck, but tried to play it cool. 

“Congratulations?”

“On your new position. I hope you don’t mind that Will shared that with me today.”

“Did he now?” You couldn’t help the slight negativity in your voice as you looked away and played with your ring. “He is definitely not as happy for me as you are. I’m sure you’re aware that he did not want me to accept Jack’s offer.”

“I cannot tell what he said, but I can tell you that he was rather upset when he came in today.”

“Sounds like my brother.” You took another drink of water, not even noticing that Hannibal had plated dinner until he spoke up.

“Now, if you’d please.” You quickly looked up and saw that he was gesturing to the dining room. You tried to help by grabbing a plate or his cup or something to bring to the table but he just gently ushered you into the next room. He never let you help out when you were over as a dinner guest, but you tried every time. 

The two of you sat and began eating. It was a good minute or two of silence before someone spoke up. 

“This is delicious, Hannibal! I don’t know what vegetable this is exactly,” you help up a swirly looking green piece on your fork, “but it is amazing with this sauce you’ve made.”

“That is romanesco broccoli. I thought you might like it. It looks intimidating but tastes like the typical broccoli that you normally eat. It's just a bit… Artistic.” He slightly smiled, happy that he could amuse you with new food. You took another bite as Hannibal reached for his wine. Before he took a sip, he asked something that had been on his mind.

“May I ask what grabbed your focus so much that you almost missed out on dinner tonight?”

“Oh, right! Jack apparently already has a killer he wants me to start profiling. He gave me copies of the reports to read up on before I have my first official day tomorrow. I told myself I was just going to read the first one, but then got carried away.”

“Is this the killer that has been targeting doctors?” You gave him a questioning look, unsure of how he knew about the case. “Jack asked for my opinion at the crime scene for Dr.Chaseten a few weeks ago. Considering they haven’t caught anyone, I’m assuming that is what he has you working on.”

“Then you would be correct. There are now three mutilated doctors that have no obvious correlation to each other other than the cause of death and the fact that they are doctors.” You sipped your drink and continued. “I know I’ve only been Jack’s official profiler for less than a day, but it's still biting at me that I don’t see anything yet.”

Hannibal reached over and put a hand on yours to try to rein you back in before you thought too much about the case.

“I’m sure you will have more answers tomorrow.” You smiled and patted his hand, ignoring the slight butterflies you got from the contact. You took a deep breath.

“I know. I shouldn’t get this deep yet. That insanity will hit me tomorrow when I have to brainstorm with Jack.” You smiled even though it didn’t fully reach your eyes. You knew Hannibal would pick up on it. 

“I think it was Oscar Levant that said that ‘there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.’ Let’s just hope Jack Crawford won’t erase his line.” Hannibal gave your hand a small squeeze before removing his hand, causing you both to return your attention to your meal. 

“You know, we could have rescheduled this dinner if you felt the need to finish your work.” Hannibal was sincere. He understood your work was a major part of your life, but he did like to see you outside the halls of the FBI.

“No! I wanted to come by tonight! Honestly, I needed a mood lifter after today.”

“Oh? How come?” You finished chewing and then spoke your mind. You knew Hannibal was a therapist, but he wasn’t your therapist. So you tried to keep it friendly.

“I should be excited and happy to be starting this new position, but I’m more worried about Will. I don’t want this job to be what divides us, you know? We’re so close, and I am one of the few people that he can be comfortable around. I don’t want to take that from him.” You pause, unconsciously bouncing your leg and fidgeting with your ring slightly. You shook your head as if that would temporarily erase the thought. “I just hope that if I keep working cases, he will get more and more okay with it.” You cut off a piece of fish and ate, letting Hannibal know that you were done speaking.

“I’m sure he will be fine.” You look up to find him staring at you. More like watching you, hyper-aware of your movements that show your anxiety. “But enough about Will.” Hannibal held up his glass towards you. “Here’s to you and your new path in the FBI. May they see you as valuable and wonderful as I do.” 

You patted your lips with your napkin and smiled as you clinked your glass with his. Your heart swelled at his words. Why do you do this to me? 

The rest of the evening was spent finishing your meal and forcing Hannibal to let you help with the dishes. Afterward, he walked you to your car, as usual, opening the door for you like a true gentleman. 

Your drive home was peaceful and you found yourself smiling, thankful for your evening with Hannibal. It was nice to know that someone you cared about was happy for you.

[the-irish-mayhem]

This is a series of short, unrelated vignettes/oneshots that was supposed to be posted for Fosterson Week a year or two ago and I finally got around to finishing it. Enjoy!

5 Universes In Which Jane Is Worthy and 1 Where She Isn’t

Read on AO3

1.

On the top ten list of bad ideas she’s ever had, this is so, so, so bad the number one spot doesn’t even seem adequate. The guy who thought he was Thor clearly got caught trying to get her stuff back, and so she is  so  screwed unless she goes in herself. God, why did she go along with this again? He’d claimed he’d fly out once he got what he was looking for (which,  god , again, why had she kind of believed him?)

Her feet crunch quietly against the hard-packed sand leading to the hole in the plastic tarping making up the walls of the facility that Thor had kicked a guy through, and she, without nearly as much hesitation as she should probably feel, hops in.

The place isn’t huge, and it doesn’t take long for Jane to find the main room.

Thor had helpfully drawn nearly everyone in security away from where her equipment is stowed, next to a… hammer in the dirt. Literally, they built this entire site around a hammer? What the  hell , archaeologists never get this much funding and government attention. And what does her equipment have to do with it?

Jane shakes herself. She has a lot more important things to do instead of trying to puzzle out the weird and wild workings of shady government agencies. Things like capitalizing on their inattentiveness and getting her gear back.

She grabs her notebook first, stuffing it into her back pocket, and then trying to figure out how she’s going to cart out at least two hundred or so pounds of equipment.

“Hey!”

Jane nearly leaps out of her skin and turns, seeing a pair of security guards sprinting towards her from one of the halls.

“Shit,” she spits, and frantically looks around at her equipment. Lightest and hardest to replace… Radio spectrometer retrofitted for wormholes. Yep, that one. She scoops it up in her arms and takes off.

Even running as quickly as she can, the guards are still within arm’s length of her before she’s taken five steps.

Oh, they are not taking her work. Absolutely not. Erik isn’t here to hold her back this time.

She reaches an arm out, barely managing to hold onto her spectrometer as she grasps the handle of the hammer. Old or valuable, the thing is still a hammer, she can still swing at them with it.

A crack of thunder. A blinding flash of light. The feeling of grabbing a live-wire running through her body for a handful of terrifying seconds until the euphoria comes.

If she be worthy , she hears.

May she possess the power of Thor.

Oh, Jane thinks.

Oh,  fuck .

 2.

“No, I don’t know what… That’s why I’m coming out here to… Look, all the issues with our readings at the site are originating from this one spot, so yeah, I’m going to go take a look,” Jane says into the phone.

“Who is it?” Darcy whispers. Their truck rumbles along a remote road in Norway leading to the coast, and the interference from their mystery site makes it so they don’t get any radio stations, so Darcy is starved for entertainment.

Jane covers the mouthpiece and whispers back, “Caplan. He’s--” she uncovers the mouthpiece. “No, there’s not any danger. You--no… No… Wait, but that time wasn’t actually my fault, so…”

“Being a dick again?”

Jane’s eyeroll is all the answer required. “Look, we’ll be ba-- in--” Jane makes an almost comical crackling noise in the back of her throat. “Wha-- interference from the-- thr-- breaking up--bye.” She hangs up without any further discussion.

Darcy contains a laugh. “You’re gonna pay for that later, you know.”

Jane rolls her eyes again. “Well, it’s my being at his facility that’s even getting him funding in the first place, so, you know.” She shrugs. “If he wants to fight me, I’m the one with more published papers and theories that changed the laws of physics.”

Darcy pumps a fist. “Fuck yeah.”

She waves a hand. “He’ll be fine. He’s pissed we took the Mule without asking.” Where they plan on going, there’s no vehicle access, so the ATV was their only recourse. “If he thinks I’ll be satisfied with this one spot fucking up my results over and over again, he’s got another thing coming. Speaking of which,” the device that rests in Jane’s lap begins to ping, “pull over here.”

“Woo, off-road time,” Darcy cheers, and follows Jane’s instructions.

Another hour of driving in the Mule later, they reach the geographic nexus that’s been screwing with their readings.

It’s a pretty spot, bright green grass running all the way to the edge of the cliff, where a sheer drop would land them in the ocean. Norway’s fjords are always breathtaking, and Darcy counts herself lucky yet again that she gets to visit places like this and get paid for it. All in all, a pretty rad job.

“Can you set up--”

“Magnetic perimeter and radiation scanners?” Darcy finishes. “Yeah.”

Darcy unloads the equipment from the back of the ATV as Jane approaches the nexus.

It looks like a storm is beginning to swirl overhead, and Darcy eyes it nervously. Without any cover, they are pretty much sitting ducks if any rain starts to fall, god forbid if lightning starts. Where the hell did all these thunderheads come from? This blew in awfully fast.

Jane crouches down and reaches for something on the ground. “Darcy, you should come look at this,” she calls out. 

Quite suddenly, the hair on the back of Darcy’s neck stands straight up. The sensation is so strong and sudden that it literally causes her to gasp in shock.

“Jane--” she starts but she doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Faster than the blink of an eye, a massive bolt of lightning tears from the sky, slicing straight down to where Jane kneels.

Darcy barely has time to scream.

She is thrown backwards by the force of the lightning strike, and she thinks she hears a voice whisper before she hits the ground behind her.

If she be worthy.

When she looks up again, she knows she hears it.

A strange woman stands where Jane once was--massive, tall, blonde, with impressive armor and Mjolnir in her fist.

May she possess the power of Thor.

 3.

Fragile isn’t a word that could ever have been used to describe Jane Foster, but with her cheekbones hollowed out by weight loss, neck and wrists gone skinny and tendons standing out against her skin in sharp relief, fragile almost seems generous. A plastic band wraps around her wrist, stamped with her name, attending physician, allergies, and a barcode encoded with all her patient information.

She is tired, often, but with Darcy’s help still manages to go through her research and rough out an outline for her next paper she plans to publish.

Jane likes to plan, likes to say things like there’s a conference next September that this paper will do really well at, and Jane knows that Darcy is trying to hide her heartbreak at these statements. Darcy used to not hide anything from her, used to barely have the capacity, let alone the desire, but it’s strange the effect dying can have.

Her hospital room is outfitted with several whiteboards scribbled over with notes and formulae, the answers Jane constantly seeks waiting to be pried out of the clutches of the equations she can spend hours puzzling over. It’s a good use of her time, when she’s not--

Elsewhere.

Jane is careful to hide the hammer. It’s her secret legacy, her last hurrah, her hidden responsibility and duty--

Mjolnir is many things to her, but burdensome is certainly not one of them.

She swings her legs over the side of her bed, gripping her IV pole to help her stand. She walks over to the window, where the sunlight of the early afternoon has been shrouded over by storm clouds. She slides open her window, the cool wind of the storm washing over her face.

In the distance, she hears the rumble of thunder.

Jane Foster smiles.

 4.

His axe is buried in Thanos’s chest, and there’s a blinding moment of what feels like sour vengeance--so many have died already, and now the Mad Titan will perish for his crimes.

He presses the blade of Stormbreaker in further, for Loki, for Heimdall, for every one of his slaughtered people.

Then Thanos whispers, “You should’ve gone for the head.”

And he feels his heart drop.

And then, and suddenly as Thor himself had dropped from the sky, another streak of lightning blazes in from the east, and Thor can feel it--  Mjolnir .

But how?

He can’t even tell who is wielding it until the hammer smashes Thanos’s skull in, and the Mad Titan is finally felled. The Infinity Gauntlet drops, the stones unused, the universe saved.

The woman holding Mjolnir is tall, with shining armor that looks well-crafted, including a helmet that hides the upper half of her face. In spite of that, he can see her eyes.

Eyes he would know anywhere in the galaxy.

She looks almost as stunned as he is.

“Jane?”

 5.

The cell phone footage is grainy and difficult to make out. Shot by a civilian in Garching, Germany, the shaky video peeks at the action from behind a brick wall. A voice out of frame whispers,  “Dude, I think it’s Thor!”  and is quickly hushed by the one holding the camera.  So at least two more witnesses to track down,  Natasha thinks tiredly.

The observation, though, is rather striking in its accuracy. The figure has a red cape and flowing blonde hair, and displays a command of lightning that Natasha hasn’t seen since Thor more-or-less retired after their last showdown with Thanos.

The opponents are a small gaggle of aliens, impossible to fully make out but probably more scavengers who’d come to pick the bones of Thanos’s last battlefield. In the two years since the Snap, they’d been getting a steadier stream of extraterrestrial threats looking to take advantage of Earth’s vulnerability.

“How is it that we have holographic video technology widely available, but every civilian who has useful intel has a Nokia from 2004?” Natasha grumbles, squinting and trying again in vain to enhance the footage.

From her place next to her, Okoye chuckles. “I think we’ve demonstrated that we have the worst luck imaginable,” she jokes darkly.

The figure is still hard to make out aside from the gaudy cape and lightning. The electricity in the air made the audio on the video spotty at best, mostly static and a few loud bursts of accurate recordings of a fight, but mostly useless. Then a few video frames give them a clear view of the front of the figure.

“Pause,” Natasha says, sitting forward in her chair. “Go back three frames?” The computer obeys her voice command, ticking back to the moment when they had the best view.

Both Okoye and Natasha freeze as they take in the image.

There’s a shard of disappointment that goes through Natasha when she realizes, once and for all, that it definitely isn’t Thor. That disappointment turns swiftly into suspicion because she does not know this person, and they certainly have powers that would’ve landed them at the top of a SHIELD watchlist back in the day.

It’s a woman. She’s massive, arms and legs thick with muscle, and extensive armor that could be Asgardian make, but with the graininess of the video, it’s hard to tell. Her helmet covers almost her entire face, only exposing her mouth and jaw. Some sort of chainmail on her legs, perhaps, and a sleeve on her left arm. Her right arm is bare, and clutched in that hand--

“Mjolnir,” Natasha breathes.

“I thought it was destroyed,” Okoye says.

Natasha nods. “We all did.”

Despite the video quality, there’s no mistaking that hammer. Especially when Natasha resumes the video and the mysterious woman throws the hammer, and it returns to her hand moments later.

“We haven’t seen any new powered people since the Snap,” Okoye says, breaking the silence. “With our…  situation  being what it is,” she continues, tactfully calling the mess they’d made of the world a  situation , “we should either ascertain if this woman is on our side, get her on our side, or terminate her as soon as possible.”

Natasha nods in quiet contemplation. They cannot afford to have a powered person running around the world unchecked, not with the way things are. They’re barely managing to hold it together as it is, and the Avengers are spread extremely thin. Not to mention their help is often rejected in an official capacity, a lionshare of the blame for what happened falling to the World’s Greatest Heroes who failed to save the world. It’s a PR nightmare, and there are many nights when Natasha wishes that she’d just been dusted along with the half of the world who didn’t make it.

But she didn’t. She’s still here, and someone needs to lead.

“Want me to track down Thor and ask him about her?” Okoye says. “Based on her strength from that video, she’s probably Asgardian.”

Natasha’s kneejerk reaction is to say no, that Thor can’t handle this, that he’s been in an almost constant state of inebriation and/or depression for the last two years and she won’t expose her friend to something that might be painful for him. Then her rational mind kicks in and she nods at Okoye. Thor is their best lead. “I’ll come with you.” (Then her vicious mind raises its hackles and says if she’s got to wade into the shit that is the post-Snap world, then Thor should have to get right into it with her.)

That night, the evening news features a story with the grainy footage Natasha could’ve sworn she’d managed to scrub from everywhere (but alas, she is no Vision.) The ticker at the bottom of the screen reads The New Thor: Who is she, and can we trust her?

***

They find him at a hightop table in a hole-in-the-wall bar in New Asgard, and if Natasha had been serving him, she probably would’ve cut him off at least four drinks ago, but the bartender doesn’t seem concerned with denying their monarch his alcoholic solace.

“Do I need to go get Brunnhilde?” Okoye whispers to Natasha.

Thor sways in his barstool, hands clasped around a large stein of beer, but seems coherent enough to answer their questions.

“Not yet.”

“Wha--?” Thor mumbles, eyes half-lidded. “What’re you saying?” His words are disturbingly slurred. Maybe getting Brunnhilde wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Natasha refocuses. “Have you watched the news recently?”

Thor snorts and takes a drink of beer. And doesn’t stop taking a drink of beer until the stein is half-empty. Natasha’s eyes widen when he lets out a loud belch.

“Apologies,” he says, not sounding apologetic, “but you’ll have to excuse me for not keeping up with current events.”

Okoye cuts in, “How about this current event?

She slides a set of photos out of a manila envelope, laying them down on the bar table. The paper sticks to the surface of the table.

Thor shakes his head once, as if trying to rein in the spinning the room is likely doing around him. He leans down and squints at the photos. “That--” He cocks his head. “That isn’t me.”

“No,” Okoye confirms. “It isn’t.”

“These photos were taken two days ago in Garching, Germany. Know of any Asgardians who settled there?”

Thor swallows, and doesn’t immediately answer. He raises his free hand not on his beer to the photos, and the tip of his middle finger drags over where Mjolnir is inked onto the paper. “I thought it was gone,” he mumbles.

“So did we,” Natasha says, tempted to reach out to him at the abject sadness in his voice.

Okoye slants a glance at Natasha.  Focus , she seems to say with her eyes, before redirecting Thor, “Are there any Asgardians in Germany?”

“A few,” he says. “None that look like this woman.” He looks up at them. “Do you know how she found Mjolnir?”

It’s his most coherent question yet. Natasha shakes her head. “We just found out about her. She looks pretty confident with it, so maybe she’s been training somewhere.”

“I don’t underst--” Thor loses his battle with his balance and gravity and falls off his barstool. Natasha and Okoye both reach out to steady him, but he manages to catch himself before he hits the floor.

Natasha goes to Thor’s side, her heart falling quickly as she puts an arm around him. It’s hard to see Thor like this, especially knowing the kind of man he used to be. (Of all the people she thought would stick with her, after Clint and Steve left, she thought that Thor would be the one to stay. He’d fought through so much heartache, sided with them in New York against his own brother, protected the Earth from the Dark Elves after his mother’s murder, faced down Thanos even after his planet had been destroyed, and yet he’d always been ready to fight. It’s downright unnatural, utterly tragic to see him laid so low.)

Turning to Okoye, Natasha says, “Go get Brunnhilde.” Okoye doesn’t need to be told twice.

“Thor,” Natasha prompts, getting the man to look at her. His eyes look pained. She’s sure hers must reflect his. “You’ve gotta stop this.”

“Stop what?” he mumbles.

“You know what.” She hesitates before offering, “You could come back, you know. Join the Avengers again. I really could use the help, and you’ve got more experience leading than everyone else on the team combined.”

He’s already shaking his head. “No.” Clear, concise, and completely at odds with his drunkenness. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

His answering smile is sad. “I have nothing left to offer you.”

“Yes, you do,” Natasha answers softly, but based on his tone, this isn’t an argument she’s going to win. Not today, at least.

A beat passes. “You really didn’t know about Mjolnir?” she asks, one more time.

“I’m not worthy anymore,” he whispers. “Why would it call to me?”

Natasha doesn’t answer that. There’s a lot of layers there that she doesn’t think she’ll ever fully understand.

Okoye returns with Brunnhilde at her side. She says to Okoye, “You know, sometime you’re going to have to visit me when it’s not for the purposes of picking his sorry ass up off the floor.”

Okoye chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Brunnhilde proceeds to pick Thor up in a bridal carry, making Natasha stumble a bit when his weight is no longer against her. “Come on, your majesty,” she says, tone almost bored. “Let’s get you home.”

Natasha bites her tongue against all the questions she wants to ask.

How often do you do this for him?

How is everyone around here blind to what’s happening to him?

Where on earth is he getting enough alcohol to regularly get drunk?

Before she can even think of pursuing another line of questioning, she gets a call from Carol--she is needed urgently back at headquarters.

She sighs. The hunt for the new Thor will have to wait for now.

***

It’s only once Natasha and Okoye are on a quinjet and flying back to their base that Brunnhilde unceremoniously drops Thor on the ground.

He huffs, but quickly stands up and brushes himself off, perfectly sober. “Unnecessary.”

She glares at him. “How long are you going to keep this act up?” she demands. “Those are your  friends .”

“Natasha is a friend,” Thor corrects, “Okoye thinks I’m a worthless drunk.”

Brunnhilde rolls her eyes. “Because she’s never known you as anything else.”

He grits his teeth. “It’s for the best.”

“That’s what you keep telling yourself, but they  know  about her. What’s your act doing to keep her safe now?”

The muscle in Thor’s jaw works furiously, but he calmly answers, “They don’t know her identity. They think she’s a rogue Asgardian.”

Brunnhilde bristles and brusquely pulls a folded manila envelope out of her back pocket. “Okoye gave these to me, said to ask you about them again when you sobered up.” She quickly opens the envelope and tears its contents out and holds them right in his face. The edges of the photo paper crease under the force of her fingers clenching down on them. “You see this? The better she gets, the more this is going to happen. And you know what’s eventually going to happen?” She jerks her head backwards. “Your friends are going to find her. She’s on a crash course, and then she will be a part of this. You can’t stop that. It was a fantasy to think you ever could.”

“I didn’t think I could keep her from it forever,” Thor replies evenly, and he wraps his fingers around Brunnhilde’s wrist and lowers the photos from his face so he can look her in the eye.

“Then  why ?” she asks.

“Because she needs to be better than me,” he says, like a release of steam from a pot. “She needs to be better, and she’s not yet.”

Brunnhilde shakes her head. “I don’t know if you’re going to get a choice for much longer.

   and the one time…

“Jane.”

His shoulder jumps under her head.

“Hm?”

“We’re almost there.”

“Oh,” she says groggily, and pushes herself off Thor’s shoulder. “Oops,” she says when she notices the spot of drool on his shirt. “Sorry.” The weird half-sleep that comes along with car rides is slow to depart, clawing at her eyelids until she reaches to her right, where a bottle of water sits.

After she downs half the bottle and truly wakes up, he gives her a soft smile, one that says he probably wasn’t far behind her in terms of falling asleep. “It’s no matter. I thought you’d want to be awake before we arrived.”

She stretches her hands over her head as much as the towncar’s roof allows, and a series of satisfying pops go down her spine. She grunts in satisfaction before saying, “I need to go over my speech one more time.”

“I’m fairly certain  I  could give it at this point with how many times I’ve heard it.”

“You’re a good person to practice with!”

“I’m only teasing,” he says. “And besides, this is hardly your first time doing this.”

“This still feels bigger, somehow.” 

He makes a soft sound of agreement. Jane offers the water to him, which he accepts and drinks his fill before capping it and setting it aside.

Jane continues, “It’s one thing to get, you know, a big science award. Like, the last time I got the Nobel I felt almost old hat at it, you know?”

Thor gives her a look. “I recall you saying that you felt like you were going to throw up before you went onstage to give your speech.”

Jane flaps her hand at him. “Okay, sure I was nervous, but I was….used to the shape of it? This is a completely different type of thing.”

“Yes, excelling at heroics is something you usually leave to me.”

“Hey, I have plenty of behind the scenes heroics!”

“Of course, dear,” he says with a laugh, “but none of those behind the scenes heroics resulted in a singlehanded defeat of the Infinity Stones, handicapping Thanos’s plan, and saving untold lives.”

Jane tilts her head back onto the headrest, a smile spreading across her face. That day, that last fight that Strange predicted would end in only one way, would be permanently emblazoned in her memory as long as she lived. Thor had asked her to stay away from the battlefield, and initially, she’d agreed. She and Tony had been theorizing about the nature of the stones, and they hadn’t had time to parse out the quantum entanglement theories together before her thinking buddy had to jet off to try and save the universe.

It came to her like a lightning strike only minutes after the team had left for the last battle. She’d built a frequency jammer that would disrupt the quantum entanglement of the stones in thirty minutes flat, and then raced out of the Avengers compound like a bat out of hell. She’d just have to get within range of the stones, and they’d be rendered inert, their effects immediately reversed, and they’d just be ordinary stones, and then they could be destroyed.

And, incredibly, even though the science of it was shaky at best, and she’d had to improvise on the fly when some of the wiring on the jammer had shorted out, it worked.

The army from the past was gone, snapped back to their original chronological configuration; Natasha and Gamora were spat out of whatever pocket universe they’d been trapped in; and Tony hadn’t had to use his gauntlet, hadn’t had to sacrifice himself for the universe as she’d  known  he’d planned on.

(Dr. Strange had sputtered, shocked, saying that of the fourteen million six hundred and five futures he’d seen, he’d only seen one possible outcome where they won, and it wasn’t this.

Jane shrugged, breathless, dirty, bloody, and grinned. “I found number fourteen million six hundred and  six .”)

“And all without a single power to her name aside from her intellect,” he finishes.

“I am pretty cool.”

“Both pretty and cool, much agreed.”

She lets her head fall to the side so she can look at him. His beard is long enough to be braided, and he’d done so this morning, and he’d taken care to braid some of his hair as well before pulling it back with a tie. He looked good. Great. Amazing, even.

She reached out her hand closest to him, trailing a finger along one of the braids in his beard. A streetlight from outside catches on her wedding ring just so.

After the Snap, she and Thor had drifted back together, partially out of shared grief and guilt, but had ultimately rediscovered why they’d worked together for years before the distance had become too much strain. They’d officially tied the knot a few years after Tony and Pepper had. (Steve had been Thor’s best man, and Darcy Jane’s maid of honor. Tony walked Jane down the aisle in Jane’s mother’s absence. Morgan had been their flower girl.) 

She wonders if any of this would’ve happened if they hadn’t found each other again. If they hadn’t rekindled their love for each other in the horrible aftermath of the Snap, would she have been around to help? Would Tony have reached out to her with the time travel issue? Would he have invited her to collaborate on the quantum entanglement of the stones if she hadn’t re-integrated herself into the Avengers circle? She likes to think so--they were friends, at least somewhat, before the Snap (but their closeness now was only formed in those last five years of wounded peace.)

“What are you thinking about?” Thor asks, and mirrors her position so he can look at her.

“Just that I’m really glad I married you.” She nudges forward so she can kiss him. “Really, really glad.”

“I’m glad you married me, too,” he answers. “Not many women would have had the fortitude to put up with me for as long as you have.”

She grabs his hand and pulls it over to her lap. “How many people did Pepper say were going to be here?”

Thor shrugs. “Less than two thousand, but there is the webcast as well.”

“ God .”

He squeezes her hand. “Go through your speech once more. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I’d feel better if we could skip past the ceremony and go right to the drinking and partying portion of the evening.”

Thor laughed. “If only I were planning the evening, Jane Foster. Now start from the top.”

Jane laughs, and closes her eyes. With her husband’s hand in hers, his warmth a steady reassurance at her side, she recalls the words she’s memorized and feels her nervousness retreat as she begins to speak.

[tactyl-ymon]

DnD session recap - Storms and Sadness

Another 2 sessions in one recap in what continues to be my Clerics no good week from hell. Whole lot of emotions in this one, so fairly warned be ye. There’s two links to additional in game notes and things for some context to help flesh out stuff. 

We started out hurtling down a mountain in our carriage under a heavy unnatural storm, being pursued by many demons and one of the horses snaps it's leg and the carriage tips. Eridol gets thrown into a tree and spends the next several hours heavily injured. Veiraen cuts off 3 of his fingers trying to butcher the horse for food. We manage to right the carriage and just before setting off Eridol gets the idea to leave a distraction behind by stuffing his old chain mail with a sack of rice and casting light on it which is just enough to distract the literal horde of flying demons long enough for them to make it to Eridols home town and the contingent of guards waiting along with Eridol’s mum... and his fiancé, Sutha ... and his clerical mentor, Bradul Septima sees Sutha first with his 2000 passive perception and recognises her both because Eridol just talked about her and because Eridol subconsciously uses her image as a spiritual guardian. He and Whisky start yelling "Oh you’re Sutha, Eridols fiance. He's over here. He's right here on the carriage" Sutha comes over to the still very hurt and exhausted Eridol and picks him up in a big crushing hug before asking how he could just leave like that, 4 years without a word and then show up out of the blue with these strangers going on about demons. Eridol apologises but says that this isn't the time to talk about this ... Which goes about as well as you could expect and Sutha throws him down and walks off. Eridol and his mentor briefly talk about how him coming back means things will need to be answered for and that the military will come looking for him and that he can't keep running which Eridol kind of flatly mentions he knows and that's part of why he's here. Everyone gets to meet Eridols parents which goes awfully because literally nobody in the group knows how to talk to people. Veiraen immediately introduces himself as his dad, Whisky grabs photo albums and starts giggling at baby photos and Septima goes all snitchbot and tells everyone about all the things that have happened to Eridol the past year. This commotion gets Eridols dads attention and he comes down and is immediately hard core racist towards Veiraen which Eridol is having none of and threatens to throw him through a window if he starts shit again. Big "I'm gay and stronger than you" energy from the boy. Eridol goes to sit outside to try and collect his thoughts and after a bit Septima comes out and silently sits next to him in the pouring rain. Then the demons show back up, perched on top of the carriage and screech some guttural thing that everyone in 120ft hears in their mind Having been seen the demon flies away and Septima has the idea of asking Eridol who else does he care about that might be taken to get to him and he says just Sutha. Septima animorphs into a direwolf to try and find her scent and is led upstairs to Eridols old room that she was apparently staying in but gosh darn it the door is locked. Guess how long it stays that way with Veiraen around? After a mild amount of breaking and entering, Septima picks up her scent again and takes off with Whisky to try and bodyguard Sutha. Veiraen takes a look around the newly available room and instantly zeros in on the old yellowed note that Eridol left Sutha before he ran away, a note that she had read every day to try and understand and like a bastard, Veiraen read it to himself and then just put it back so nobody would know Septima and Whisky track down Sutha in a bar several blocks away and they bond over how Eridol runs away from things and Septima pipes up saying that since he's known Eridol he hasn't run away from things and has been trying to make the world a better place and then the absolute worst thing happens. Sutha quietly asks them if Eridol came back for her, Septima being unable to read a situation says "No, he brought us here to try and find information from the religious archives" and Whisky says "would you really want him to come back for you?" So Sutha gets up to leave the bar and very clearly says for them not to follow her. They follow her. Sutha gets ready to shoot them with her crossbow and says again not to take another step towards her, she just needs time to process things. Septima takes a step towards her as Whisky is asking that they just want to make sure the people Eridol cares about are safe. Crossbow goes off and because Sutha is a military trained artillerist, the resulting explosion leaves an earth shattering kaboom in the night air. The lingering smoke parts and the crumpled unconscious bodies of Septima and Whisky barely cling to life in the city’s newest pot hole. Eridol and Sutha have a very emotional conversation over all the things he's done wrong, all the things he's trying to do better, how he had to learn how to be a person again and that he always loved her but understands why she would hate him and even if it were just for a few days he wanted her to stay here, so she could at least be safe, he'll stay away if that's what she wanted and then he tries to give her back their wedding ring and says that there is too much happening at the moment but that Eridol genuinely hoped that they could have another chance after all this was finished. Sutha stares down at the tiny man bearing his soul and it just isn't enough and Sutha says to keep it and leaves the house in a rush. In the hastily emptied room Eridol finds an old blueprint of his that she had scribbled on years ago, saying how much she loved his mind. Then morning comes and Eridol tries something. He casts detect magic on himself to try and figure out how those demons were able to track them and the brand on his side lights up like Christmas. Shades of divination, necromancy, abjuration and something else Eridol can't recognise. With that confirmed, Eridol tries something else much stupider in hindsight. He casts dispel magic on the brand. Immediate agony and the boy is unconscious Everyone hears the scream and the distinct sound of a tiny gnome falling down and runs upstairs to find Eridol white as a sheet but still breathing and the brand on his side changed from an open hand to looking curled in like it was grasping something Eridols mentor dumps a massive heal into him and Eridol tells them about what he was trying to do. Septima asks Eridol if it would be alright to try again and with a shaky nod Eridol casts death ward on himself and they try again. Septima calls on his connection to the green to help strengthen their cause and it is not enough and they all hear a very distinctly not Eridol sounding voice come out of the tiny man "By my will, you do my bidding" The brand itself twisting on Eridols side to reach out and grab Septimas arm, black goo numbly racing up past Septimas elbow before shuddering to a halt, his own will just enough to beat the influence and stop a second mark of bane appearing. The group knew about soul bound curses beforehand but one straight from a god sure is something else Stabilised and conscious Eridol asks if they not do that again for a bit and the group discusses options. Obviously this whole demon cult needs to die no matter what Eridol says about greater evils and priorities but they would like to wait a day so Eridol can get his strength back. Eridol does not like this idea, reasoning that the demons already know where they are and the quicker they can make it to the religious city the safer everyone will be while they do research into things. The group wants Eridols parents to come, but the boy knows they won't, his mother has too much work left to do and his dad is way too racist to survive the journey sitting next to Veiraen but ultimately it's their choice. His mother comes in and basically says how he is incapable of letting them through the walls around his heart and they won't go with him

While Eridol lays in bed dealing with the fallout of the last several minutes he begins writing a letter, about an hour later, everyone experiences the telltale sound of of wood and metal tearing itself apart from out in the harbour as an impossibly familiar ship appears from a rip in space, followed by a tidal wave and several finned monstrosities. The ship and all of it’s crew, including the recently departed rogue Emmi and her mother, Sharona, collide with the nearly empty dock. In the minutes it takes everyone to run down to the docks, the ship is heavily damaged by a duo of hydras that had followed them through an arcane gate.

The battle is fierce and several sailors are lost before the hydra fall, discussions are had about how the hell Emmi and her mother are here as they left on a boat half the world away like a week ago. Emmi points to a keystone her father had found ages before he disappeared that since being reconnected to the prime material plane allowed them to shift to the elemental plane of water but it had also brought this continent spanning storm with them that had been causing issues since they had left. They’ll be out of the way once the ship gets repaired and take their surviving crew to a nearby tavern to drink their sorrows and remaining brain cells away. The group makes their way back to Eridols old home, mostly empty as his parents had left to their respective jobs. Everyone piles into the living room and attempts to make themselves comfortable as Eridol trudges back up to his old room he shared with Sutha, stopping outside as he hears the frantic scribbling of quill on parchment. After a tense moment, they share a weak laugh about having the same idea and Eridol brings out the letter he had penned maybe an hour ago. Sutha reads it quietly, never looking at Eridol before collecting the rest of her things and marching downstairs, singling out Veiraen and handing him the letter before quickly hugging the drow and asking that he look after Eridol. The moment ends as abruptly as it began and Sutha leaves for parts unknown, leaving Veiraen holding yet another note from Eridol and he begins reading it. After finishing, he slowly makes his way up the stairs to the quiet bedroom where Eridol is still standing and he kneels down and hugs the cleric and after several seconds, Eridol hugs his friend back and quietly begins crying into his shoulder. 

[ghostburs-blue]

Lost and Found

Part Four

He stood there with a look of awe on his face, staring at her.

“Um… can I help you, Peter?” Aiden asked, waving a hand in front of her face to break him from his daze. He shook his head, mind still a little foggy.

“Did you… did you just stand up to Flash and his football gang?” Peter asks, realizing that she had already started walking away from him. He ran to catch up with her.

She simply shrugs. “Yeah, it wasn’t exactly hard. There was something about him though, something strange. I can’t figure it out, but I’m going to talk to him and find out.” Suddenly Aiden stops, whirling around to face Peter. He almost walks into her at the sharp movement.

“Something’s wrong, Peter. This isn’t him, I- I can tell.” She turns around again and makes her way to class, leaving Peter standing in the hallway, staring at her retreating figure.

Aiden barely talked to him the rest of the week, focusing on her school work and trying to distract herself from her ever growing crush on Peter Parker. There, she said it. She had a huge crush on Peter Parker, and it was horrible. But, who can blame her? The kid was geeky, adorable, was weirdly buff, had an amazing personality, and, on top of all of that, he cared about her. But no matter how much she wanted to be closer to him, something stopped her. He’s going to walk out of your life, the voice inside her head said. He’s going to be just like Tom and leave. Don’t let that happen, it continued, leaving Aiden in a daze. 

Ever since her oldest brother, Tom, had gotten a big break in the acting world, he had packed up, moved to L.A., and left their entire family behind. The worst part was, Aiden had loved him with her entire heart. He was like a parent to her, giving her advice and helping her with life when their own parents wouldn’t. All her trust issues stemmed from him leaving, and she hated every second of it. She hated being so vulnerable, and she hated how much one person could have broken her. Aiden was only 8 when it happened. She was 16 now. He used to at least call for birthdays, but eventually, that stopped too.

What hurt the most was that Aiden would see his face everywhere, in upcoming movies and posters. She would see him in celebrity endorsements and award shows. During his speeches, he never once mentioned his family that helped him achieve his dreams, never once mentioned his adoring little sister who would have done anything for him, never once mentioned everything he left behind and all the hurt he had caused people. He was gone, and it took Aiden years to realize that he wasn’t coming back.

She had almost successfully cut off all communications with Peter, mad at him for getting so close to her so fast. He would only see her when she walked past him in the halls, and even then she would speed walk away from him. It hurt him to see her not wanting to talk; he thought that they had really hit it off and would become close. However, he respected her decision and didn’t try to talk to her. Until one fateful night, that is.

Aiden was in her room; she had just finished all of her physics homework and was exhausted. She was second in their grade only to Peter, yet her parents still pushed her to only settle for first and it put an immense load on Aiden. She was only a kid, after all.

She dramatically fell back onto her bed and was a second away from falling asleep when she heard frantic knocking on her window. Her curtains were closed, and Aiden could see a shadowy figure moving around behind it. She grabbed a baseball bat that she kept beside her bed and brought it up next to her head, then stepped forward and grabbed a hold of the curtain fabric. Yanking it open, she almost dropped her bat in surprise; she was met with the wide white eyes of Spider-Man’s suit.

Aiden immediately scrambled to open the window, and it was when he was climbing in did she realize there was a huge gash running down the side of his body that he was clutching. Aiden helped him sit down on her bed, and when Spider-Man brought his hand away from the cut, it came away bright red, covered in blood.

She immediately went into emergency mode, remembering all the first aid that she had to learn in her self-defense class. Then she remembered who was in front of her, and managed to let out a breathless whisper shout, saying, “What are you doing here?!”

Immediately, the figure in front of her reached up and grabbed the edge of the mask, pulling it away from his face. Aiden’s face went white with shock as she gasps.

“PETER?! WHAT THE FUCK?!” She yelled quietly, not able to hide her surprise. At this point, she can see the tears forming in his eyes, and realized he must be in a lot of pain.

“Please, Aiden,” He cries out, voice cracking. “I- I got hurt and I didn’t know where to go and I know you hate me but please, I need help I don’t know what to d-” Aiden cuts him off with a gentle shake of her head.

“I don’t hate you, Peter, I just- I can’t open up to people that easily. But I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay? Just nod if you understand me, I don’t want you using up your energy by talking.” He gave a weak nod, and instantly a steely glint appeared in Aiden’s eyes. She left the room in a hurry, then came back with her arms full of first aid supplies.

“Peter, I need you to- to take the suit off. I can't clean it without bare skin surrounding it,” Without another word, Peter pressed the spider emblem on his chest. The suit loosened up, pooling around his waist as he sat on the bed.

Aiden’s mind goes back into emergency mode, not bothering to focus on his obvious 6-pack or his strong biceps. She bit her lip, surveying the wound. “I’m sorry Petey, but this is definitely going to need stitches.” When she doesn’t get any response from him, she looks up and notices his eyes starting to close. “Hey hey no. Stay with me, okay? Petey, stay with me. Just breathe.” But, her voice was already starting to sound fainter and far away, and with a loll of his head, Peter succumbed to the darkness.

Quickly, Aiden checks his pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when she feels it. She looked at the wound and realized that he’s probably losing a lot of blood, so she gets to work.

She cleaned the wound, then prepared him for stitches. Surprisingly, her hands didn’t shake, and she tried to recall the training course she took. Taking a deep breath, she got to work.

About an hour and one mini-breakdown later, Aiden was done with the gash and she had already checked for and treated any other small cuts and scrapes on his body. For that, however, she had needed to pull his suit completely off his body, leaving him in only his boxers. Aiden didn’t let herself get distracted as she finished washing her hands and came back into the room.

She had arranged him on her bed properly, but the blood had made a mess on her sheets. She had checked his pulse; it was strong and beating at regular intervals. Staring at him, she had no idea what to do. Checking the time on her phone, it read 2 a.m. Then, it hit her. Tony Stark.

Everyone knew that Peter had an internship with Tony Stark, and it sure as hell didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Being Spider-Man was the internship. Picking up Peter’s phone that she had found in a small pocket in his suit, Aiden prayed that it didn’t have a password. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t.

Scrolling until she found the contacts app, she tapped on it and quickly found the contact name that said “Mr. Stark”. For a second she hesitated, and reality came flooding back to her. It was 2 in the morning. Then, she remembers that she has a boy that was a literal superhero in front of her, and Aiden put it all into perspective. Yeah, she thought. I think this is worth the time and attention of Tony Stark. Even though it’s 2 in the morning. With that, Aiden pressed the call button and put the phone to her ear, sucking in a breath as she listened to it ring.

It rang three times before someone said a tired, “Hello? Kid? What happened? It's 2 in the morning and I’m trying to get some sleep here.” Aiden gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She instantly recognized his voice. It was actually Tony Stark.

Aiden shook her head to clear it. She tried to sound as confident as she could when she spoke and hoped her nerves weren’t obvious. “Mr. Stark? Hi, I’m Peter’s friend, Aiden. We have a bit of an emergency.” He stayed silent on the other end of the line, as if inviting her to continue. “Um, about an hour and a half ago, Peter showed up at my window with a huge gash down his side, in his Spider-Man suit.” Aiden paused as she heard a sharp intake of breath. “He passed out, from all the blood loss I’m assuming, but not before he revealed that he was Spider-Man and helped me take the suit off. The gash was really deep, and I cleaned him up and stitched it up.” Aiden hears a sound of protest coming from Tony. “No, it’s okay, I’ve taken a course on all the basic emergency procedures and I passed, so I know how to stitch someone up.” Another sigh. “Anyway, he was passed out through it all and he still is. The bleeding has notably decreased and his pulse is strong and steady. I cleaned up the minor scrapes and cuts as well. But, I don’t know what to do now. I thought it would be best to call you because he works for you or whatever. I also know that his Aunt May must be worried sick, which is horrible. So what do I do?” There was a moment of silence. Then, he spoke.

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell you. What you did was incredible and I know Peter is going to be extremely thankful when he wakes up. I think the best course of action right now is to have me pick him up and bring him to the tower. May knows he has an internship with me, I can convince her that I sent her an email already letting her know that he’s going to spend the night with me and she just forgot. But honestly, you did that all by yourself?” Tony lets out a breathless chuckle. “How’s this. It’s obvious you care about him a lot, and he obviously trusts you enough to put his life in your hands. You can come with me when I take him back to the tower, hm? Are you down to do that? I can call your parents and let them know that you have an internship with me and you spent the night.” He finishes off.

Aiden gasps. “Oh my god yes! But, please just promise me that Peter will be in good hands and he’ll be okay. I-” her voice broke a little. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if he didn’t make it.” She finished, trying not to cry.

“Hey, listen to me, it’s going to be okay. Give me your address and apartment number and I’ll be at your window in 10 okay?” Tony soothed her.

Aiden gave a little whimper, then nodded, eventually hanging up after giving him her information. She sat beside the unconscious boy on the bed and moved some of his hair out of his face. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed his forehead, whispering, “Please wake up Petey. Please.” She sat there until, exactly 10 minutes after the call, she heard a knock on her window.

Standing up, Aiden already knew who it was, and opened it, letting Tony into her room. But, she was too worried to fangirl about how cool his Iron Man suit looked, or how quiet it was. The front half seemed to dissolve and he stepped out, leaving the suit hovering an inch off the ground behind him. Aiden barely had time to register it as he walked towards her and wrapped her in a hug. He pulled her back to an arm's length and inspected her, smiling.

“Peter chose a keeper,” he said, smiling.

“Bu- I- Wha- Peter and I aren’t dating!” Aiden finally sputtered out.

Tony just laughed and shook his head, saying, “I never said you were, and I think that just proves my point.” Then, as if he remembered why he was actually here, he looked over to see Peter lying on the bed. His face filled with worry, and he quickly bent over to check Peter’s pulse. Sure enough, it was strong and steady. His gash had been properly bandaged, and a quick look underneath told him that the stitching was correct too. He turned to Aiden.

“Color me impressed. You did a really good job, kid. But I think it’s time to head back now.” Tony said.

Aiden nodded, then seemed to remember something. “Hey um, can I bring my backpack and pack a quick lunch for school tomorrow? I don’t have lunch money and I still have a bit of homework to do and a project to work on,” she said quietly.

Tony just stared at her. “I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that to me. Besides, you’re definitely not going to school tomorrow. Looking at the obviously used punching bag hanging from the ceiling,” he gestures towards it, “the sports clothes thrown across the room,” he points to the individual pieces of clothing, “and last but not least, this amazing work you did on a live human in a time of need, you have potential, kid. And I’m making sure you do something with it.”

--

a/n - ok so I have everything else already planned out and I actually like where the story’s going (knock on wood) but woo ya! Hope you enjoy reading this, my dudes :)

[scandeniall]

ri’s self ship

Self ship tag:

Listen I was tagged by mother Sam @samwrights almost 3 weeks ago and this shitshow has been sitting in my notes since then. To the point where the original tag is long gone in my notifications so I cant even the low it 😭

Anyways let me clear this out and say I ship me with my original number one hq boy: Kuroo

Alrighty eye suppose

Ok so me and kuroo most definitely met our first year of college. First day of class in some random ass gen ed like history yeah that works. And y’all know how profs be like “get to know the person next to you and exchange numbers.” Now I’m like—- wow he’s hot but I know how to play it cool. Anyways so we do a quick intro and then he complements my hair

“I like the decorations,” and I do my general awkward but friendly laugh and say thanks. Anyways that’s how it starts. We finish that awkward ice breaker where it’s like “tell your neighbor why you’re taking this class” and bc we’re both sarcastic dummies it’s like “bro cause it’s fucking required”

Anyways it’s now class two and I’m one of them bitches who gets to class early (in the beginning of the year) bc I like picking my seat. So the seat I picked was in the middle row off near the end on the first day so I sit there again and then kuroo comes back and I’m shook bc i didn’t expect him to sit back there. /Alright so ima use an example of how I met one of my guy friends this past year/ so let’s say this is one of them annoying ass classes where there’s like some mini assignment due every class. So kuroo suggests how about we take turns doing the assignment and sending the other the answers. And I’m like yeah ok I could use that break every other day. So yes that’s how we get each other’s numbers

So that’s basically how the first half of the semester goes. Over time we both make some slight convo with other ppl in our class around us but still sit our unassigned assigned seats next to each other. But now it’s nearing midterms. And at this point yeah I dont come to class early anymore like I’m there like 5 minutes before but history class bro kuroo always makes sure a seat next to him is saved bc at this point he knows I’m like rushing.

Anyways I nearly knock him out with my big ass bag as i squeeze past him in these tight ass aisles and he’s all dramatic saying I’m trying to kill him and got me laughing but also frantically apologizing. Anyways he’s like “yo do you wanna study for this exam together.” I love friends but I’m actually so shy so I say yeah and we make a plan. We’re gonna link like 3 times before the exam next week. The first time being that same night.

Alright so we go about the rest of our day until it’s like 8pm and we’re both done with our own other club commitments and stuff so I’m like walking around the library looking for him slightly nervous bc attractive ppl make me nervous and we’re meeting up for the first time outside of class. I walk around in a circle like 3 times until his y’all ass pop up behind me (note I’m 5’0). “Didn’t see you there” and I’m one of them bitches that be like “woooooooow ok”

Anyways we find a little table in the back of the crowded library and yeah the first 20 minutes were not doing shit. We pull out our laptops and notes but really we’re just talking. He’s the type to as you about your day and since I’m like perpetually tired I’m like “yeah I’m ready for bed I just got out of a meeting and it was sooooo long.” And then we actually kinda find out one another’s campus involvements and he finds out I’m in a retail and food club and I find out he plays for the intermural volleyball team and his a science loser

Anyways yeah from there our friendship blooms and continues on into the following semester where we sign up for another two gen eds together and I end up meeting his old high school friend y’all and watching them mfs argue is the funniest shit. I’m always catching their dumb arguments on Snapchat

Yeah let’s fast forward to our junior years. Over the past 2 years our friendship grew from platonic to just flirtatious friends and by now we’re flirtatious friends whose touches linger just a lil longer to be platonic. By this time we’re both living in apartment buildings (it ended up being the same one) and are both hella busy with upper level classes and both have like 5 campus involvements plus jobs.

Whenever we see each other one of us is always like half dead. But we still find time to hangout even though it’s mostly at one of our apartments. Since we live in the same building and kuroo is in a bigger 3 bedroom over my 2 I tend to go upstairs to his more often.

So Its like 9pm on a Thursday night and i don’t have Friday classes and I’m finally home for the day and as soon as i shower put in my comfy sweats, wipe off my eyebrows and put on and bonnet here comes kuroo FaceTiming me. Yes we’re at the point in our friendship where we only answer with half of our faces. “You don’t have any other friends come keep me company”

Bc he’s hit and my friend I’m like yeah whatever and go up the 2 floors to his place and he’s literally at his desk doing homework. “You made me get out of bed to watch you do homework” and he just does that stupid smirk before telling me I can just chill on his bed. So listen I think he’s the type to keep his room fucking freezing so I’m like getting under his covers and he asks me to play dj.

Now ok my music taste is all over the place but my main genre is rnb so yeah. Kuroo knows this and over the years I put him on to a lot of it so yeah I’m gonna turn on Brent faiyaz and he’s just over at his desk working and vibing. He tells me he likes my music taste (and bc I throw in a lil bit of everything for him)

As two Scorpio’s were both used to lowkey subtly making people do what we want them to do. So like it’s the cat and mouse type game with us and we keep tryna make the other person take it further

We don’t even know when we start dating shit it’s just one day “y’all dating?” “Yeah” so much for an anniversary date

I’d hang out with him way too much bc my lack of friends is sickening. And I like doing random shit so let’s go to the park at 3am and hope we don’t get in trouble

I’m hungry at 3am let’s go a store that’s open 24 hours and deliriously roam the half stocked aisles

At this point kuroo just invites himself over on my Sunday wash days bc he knows that shit is gonna taken hours. ESPECIALLY when I’m taking my braids out

Kuroo the type of bf to help me take my braids out and not be completely grossed out at the dirt residue from the hair style. “Baby what if I put this under a microscope” yeah he’s disgusting though

He’s also the bf to try and help me detangling every time but my scalp is v sensitive so at some point I’m just like “yeah I’m gonna need you to STOP”

We’re both chaotic is this even a relationship or are we just besties? I’m that annoying friend that tries to record everything but he’s so tall in comparison to me that he gets cut off the camera half the time

We’re both annoying and stay ready with witty comebacks so we playfully bicker way too much but it’s fun and we’re still inseparable

Idk what I’m doing here so ima end and sum up and say kuroo best boy. Best boy also dates and is your best friend and that is LITERALLY my vibe 110%

idk im very late to this trend so um i tag anyone who wants to do this

[freshneverfrozen]

Running Time

You know how much I know about Resident Evil? Enough to get my ass smacked by a jacked Nick Valentine, that’s how much.

This is horrible, by the way. I started it and barely knew enough about Leon to get through it. This is worst thing I’ve written in 10 years and there’s not even any porn. Can you say porn on tumblr now? Porn. Huh. Porn porn porn. Also, uh, not proofread.

Five Times You Meet Leon Kennedy

1.

The first time you met Leon Kennedy, the world had already ended. The wind through Raccoon City smelled of decay and bodies and you were used to it now. When people realized what was happening, that they were dying or going to die, they swept en masse towards strategic points. The police station was closest to you - but the gates were shut and the doors barricaded before you ever got through. The ones who stayed to beat at the entrance were still there now. They moved slower and smelled of blood and carnage.

You had not stayed; you determined you would wait it out - two weeks - and then you would make your way out of the city. You’re scavenging near the police station when you hear the shots ring out. The place has been dead - literally - for days. Lights out, only the streets around the building breathing with the infected. Those streets pulse and sway as you maneuver through store fronts, your head low, always low. You can’t get into the station, but the nearer you get, the clearer the shots echo.

The front would be suicide, but there’s a gate around the back, one guarded by tall, iron fencing that you have tried before to climb over. You ignore it. You ignore the front. Instead, you climb up a fire escape on the building next door and you stay there until you are positive that someone is alive on the second floor of the station. Once or twice, you think you see a flash from the windows, but the rain comes down harder and in the minutes that follow, darkness screeches below.

And then you see him - his shadow passing smoothly down the second-story hall - and your heart snares in your throat until you can’t breathe or speak. Lightning flashes, frightens the both of you, and he, him, the man in the window, turns by chance to look at the rusted platform across the alley.

He sees you, his silhouette hesitating, and you know he thinks that you’re one of them, that you’re a dead thing.

But you aren’t. And your arms wave frantically through the rain. He sees you because he lunges for the window and forces it open. The beam from a flashlight shines across the way and you wince against it but you don’t avert your eyes.

“You’re alive!”

His voice is young and his words bring a stinging heat to your eyes.

“So are you,” you call back, imagining a smile on that face you can’t quite see.

“What’s your name?” His voice is a kind one, you think, one that sounds like trust. You wonder what he hears in yours when you answer him.

He tells you that he’s Leon and that he’s with the RPD. You want to ask how many survivors there are, but you don’t, because you know the answer already. There’s only him, alone in all that building. The space between you feels like a universe; it’s going to swallow one or both of you in a cataclysm.

“I can’t get to you,” you call to him, and you wish immediately that you had lied, because what you’ve just said is a cruelty the stranger - Leon - with the young voice and the gun doesn’t deserve.

“You’ll have to be careful,” you continue in a voice that is both loud and soft, “Be careful. I - I can’t get to you.”

Leon hesitates. You notice his shadow sway behind the light.

“There’s a gate in the back -”

I know. You do know. You heard it rattle, can hear it rattle.

“ - I can’t unlock it. Don’t try to come that way.” His tone steadies, stronger now, and before the outbreak, you don’t recall recognizing resolve in a stranger’s voice. “I’m going to open the garage. I’ll find a way through.”

He can’t stay there, in the police station, he means.

“Good luck,” you tell him. You mean it.

“If you can get to that side of the street…I’ll find you.”

He sounds like a promise.

2.

The second time you met Leon, he kept his promise. He found you and you want to cry because he looks like an angel with his pale hair and eyes. There’s kindness in his face, even when kindness stopped belonging weeks ago. He hasn’t forgotten your name in the hours since you first saw him.

You cry when he touches your shoulder.

There’s a woman with him who sneers when the tears roll down your cheeks, but Leon feels the relief like you do. The pads of his fingers curl into your shoulder; he’s not trying to calm you, you realize as you swallow down the emotions that are strangling you, he’s steadying himself.

“Do you have a gun?” the woman with Leon asks you.

You don’t, but you have a knife and a heavy metal pipe that has left an ache down one of your arms.

“Where are you going to go?” you ask. You’re talking to Leon and it’s just as well, because the woman has gone to the windows to peer out into the street.

“Following her,” he replies.

That’s the decision then. You’ll follow her too.

3.

The third time you meet Leon, he’s staggering across a scaffold that is going to collapse beneath him. You cry out for him; you reach out but your shoulder has a bullet wound to match his. Ada had put it there and called it a favor when she left you dying on the tram.

But you didn’t die. You clawed and you kicked and followed the gunshots until there was too much blood leaking out of you. Then you had crawled.

“Ada,” your voice cracks, weak, and you’re not sure if Leon can hear you over the fires burning behind him, “Ada, she - “

“Dead,” he breathes down from the ledge above you. He had heard you after all - somehow, by chance, between the explosions and splitting steel.

The ground rocks and spills you onto your knees as Leon clambers down a latter towards you. You find your feet before he can reach you, but his arm goes around you anyway. This time you need it - you think you’ll die without it.

“Want to stay here?” There’s a smile on your lips as your fingers close over the top edge of his vest to keep yourself on your feet. “Enjoy the view and die?”

Blond hair that has gone orange in the firelight falls over one eye as Leon shakes his head. He’s delirious, because he smiles back before dragging you along, one arm snug around your back.

4.

You don’t think there will be a fourth time.

They take Leon and the little girl, Sherry, and you don’t expect to see him again. Your heart breaks over a stranger. Losing a man you’ve known only a few days is like losing an arm or organ - you’re bleeding out slowly in the middle of military tents and a quarantine zone. They tell you they’ll let you go, but you stop believing them after a week.

But Leon…Leon keeps his promise.

He finds you.

With your head tucked over a packet of field rations, he pushes through a passing throng of soldiers and calls your name. You choke on a mouthful of rice and kidney beans and shove the packet to the nearest survivor - there are only a few and they are all hungry - and you run to him.

Your arms wrap around this man you barely know, but he holds you tight, like he’s grateful, and you both rock on your feet there in the middle of camp.

“Where did they take you?” you ask.

“They…wanted to talk to me about Sherry.” His hands are on your bare arms for the first time, hot-palmed on the raw-scrubbed skin beneath the sleeves of your t-shirt. He says, “They may want to talk to you, too.”

Leon on sees the hesitation on your face before even you know it’s there. “Come on,” he smiles, the edges of it broken, “Don’t worry about it now. Let’s take a walk.”

You walk for minutes, tens of them, and every few steps his arm brushes yours.

“They want you to stay with them, don’t they?”

You say it so that he doesn’t have to. He nods, slowly, and your hand finds his. This time, the pair are you aren’t dragging one another out of danger, this time you can squeeze just enough to feel the grooves of Leon’s palm.

He squeezes back.

5.

When Leon finds you for the fifth time, a badge hangs from the lanyard around your neck. Your suit is as black as the 9mm holstered at his thigh. He’s harder now than he was two years ago, healed over and tougher like the scar on your shoulder.

The debriefing hurts you - you watch his face and feel cold when it looks like the others of the men with whom he marched in. One of the suits - one of your people - introduces you to him as another survivor from Raccoon City and you haven’t known fear like you do in that moment for the last two years. Because Leon’s mouth is a straight, firm line and his eyes spark with nothing. He waits until the officers are gone to remember you.

“You stayed,” he says, filling up the doorway to your office like a shadow. His clothes are dark, his arms scarred. His eyes are liars eyes - you see that now as you look up from your desk. They hadn’t given away the truth to the anyone else in the meeting; they had fooled you, too.

Standing from your chair, you move around to his side of the your desk.

“So did you,” you say.

The words sound like accusations - yours and his.

“How…how have you been?”

“Alive,” you reply, “Safe.”

His mouth quirks at one corner and he lifts one arm carelessly in your direction. “Care to share any pointers?”

“Find some rookie cop you can reliably outrun and who shoots better than you.”

Leon smiles, suddenly young like you remember, and you return it. It grows, mutates until it’s too big and laughter interrupts the quiet of the office. When it tapers off, dying like everything inevitably does, you are left nodding.

“I missed you, Leon.”

He laughs a half-breath, glancing at the floor and then back to you.

“Missed you first,” he says, “Nothing’s gone the way -”

“The way it should have? The pretty way?” you supply.

“Yeah,” he seems satisfied, “the pretty way.”

He takes a step closer, more in your office than out of it, and you’re glad the space between you is closing. A mile is better than a universe. Beneath his body armor, his steps are timid, inch by inch, and you meet him halfway.

“You can’t stay, can you?”

You know the answer.

“They won’t let me.”

You knew it.

Two years feel suddenly short as you dip your head forward to rest your forehead beneath his chin. You don’t expect his arms to go around you, don’t need them to, but they do and he presses you to his chest as though he is the one who needs it this time.

Your words are muffled by his nearness.

“Be safe wherever you go, Leon.”

He nods - you feel the rise and fall of his chin against your hair followed by the burn of his lips at your temple. Red-hot, there just long to brand you.

“When I get back,” he says - promises, “I’ll find you.”

[refurbishedgray]

Running Time

You know how much I know about Resident Evil? Enough to get my ass smacked by a jacked Nick Valentine, that’s how much.

This is horrible, by the way. I started it and barely knew enough about Leon to get through it. This is worst thing I’ve written in 10 years and there’s not even any porn. Can you say porn on tumblr now? Porn. Huh. Porn porn porn.

Five Times You Meet Leon Kennedy

1.

The first time you met Leon Kennedy, the world had already ended. The wind through Raccoon City smelled of decay and bodies and you were used to it now. When people realized what was happening, that they were dying or going to die, they swept en masse towards strategic points. The police station was closest to you - but the gates were shut and the doors barricaded before you ever got through. The ones who stayed to beat at the entrance were still there now. They moved slower and smelled of blood and carnage.

You had not stayed; you determined you would wait it out - two weeks - and then you would make your way out of the city. You’re scavenging near the police station when you hear the shots ring out. The place has been dead - literally - for days. Lights out, only the streets around the building breathing with the infected. Those streets pulse and sway as you maneuver through store fronts, your head low, always low. You can’t get into the station, but the nearer you get, the clearer the shots echo.

The front would be suicide, but there’s a gate around the back, one guarded by tall, iron fencing that you have tried before to climb over. You ignore it. You ignore the front. Instead, you climb up a fire escape on the building next door and you stay there until you are positive that someone is alive on the second floor of the station. Once or twice, you think you see a flash from the windows, but the rain comes down harder and in the minutes that follow, darkness screeches below.

And then you see him - his shadow passing smoothly down the second-story hall - and your heart snares in your throat until you can’t breathe or speak. Lightning flashes, frightens the both of you, and he, him, the man in the window, turns by chance to look at the rusted platform across the alley.

He sees you, his silhouette hesitating, and you know he thinks you’re one of them, you’re a dead thing.

But you aren’t. And your arms wave frantically through the rain. He sees you because he lunges for the window and forces it open. The beam from a flashlight shines across the way and you wince against it but you don’t avert your eyes.

“You’re alive!”

His voice is young and his words bring a stinging heat to your eyes.

“So are you,” you call back, imagining a smile on that face you can’t quite see.

“What’s your name?” His voice is a kind one, you think, one that sounds like trust. You wonder what he hears in yours when you answer him.

He tells you that he’s Leon and that he’s with the RPD. You want to ask how many survivors there are, but you don’t, because you know the answer already. There’s only him, alone in all that building. The space between you feels like a universe; it’s going to swallow one or both of you in a cataclysm.

“I can’t get to you,” you call to him, and you wish immediately that you had lied, because what you’ve just said is a cruelty the stranger - Leon - with the young voice and the gun doesn’t deserve.

“You’ll have to be careful,” you continue in a voice that is both loud and soft, “Be careful. I - I can’t get to you.”

Leon hesitates. You notice his shadow sway behind the light.

“There’s a gate in the back -”

I know. You do know. You heard it rattle, can hear it rattle.

“ - I can’t unlock it. Don’t try to come that way.” His voice steadies, stronger now, and before the outbreak, you don’t recall recognizing resolve in a stranger’s voice. “I’m going to open the garage. I’ll find a way through.”

He can’t stay there, in the police station, he means.

“Good luck,” you tell him. You mean it.

“If you can get to that side of the street...I’ll find you.”

That voice sounds like a promise.

2.

The second time you met Leon, he kept his promise. He found you and you want to cry because he looks like an angel with his pale hair and eyes. There’s kindness in his face, even when kindness stopped belonging weeks ago. He hasn’t forgotten your name in the hours since you first saw him.

You cry when he touches your shoulder.

There’s a woman with him who sneers when the tears roll down your cheeks, but Leon feels the relief like you do. The pads of his fingers curl into your shoulder; he’s not trying to calm you, you realize as you swallow down the emotions that are strangling you, he’s steadying himself.

“Do you have a gun?” the woman with Leon asks you.

You don’t, but you have a knife and a heavy metal pipe that has left an ache down one of your arms.

“Where are you going to go?” you ask. You’re talking to Leon and it’s just as well, because the woman has gone to the windows to peer out into the street.

“Following her,” he replies.

That’s the decision then. You’ll follow her too.

3.

The third time you meet Leon, he’s staggering across a scaffold that is going to collapse beneath him. You cry out for him; you reach out but your shoulder has a bullet wound to match his. Ada had put it there and called it a favor when she left you dying on the tram.

But you didn’t die. You clawed and you kicked and followed the gunshots until there was too much blood leaking out of you. Then you had crawled.

“Ada,” your voice cracks, weak, and you’re not sure if Leon can hear you over the fires burning behind him, “Ada, she - “

“Dead,” he breathes down from the ledge above you. He had heard you after all - somehow, by chance, between the explosions and splitting steel.

The ground rocks and spills you onto your knees as Leon clambers down a latter towards you. You find your feet before he can reach you, but his arm goes around you anyway. This time you need it - you think you’ll die without it.

“Want to stay here?” There’s a smile on your lips as your fingers close over the top edge of his vest to keep yourself on your feet. “Enjoy the view and die?”

Blond hair that has gone orange in the firelight falls over one eye as Leon shakes his head. He’s delirious, because he smiles back before dragging you along, one arm snug around your back.

4.

You don’t think there will be a fourth time.

They take Leon and the little girl, Sherry, and you don’t expect to see him again. Your heart breaks over a stranger. Losing a man you’ve known only a few days is like losing an arm or organ - you’re bleeding out slowly in the middle of military tents and a quarantine zone. They tell you they’ll let you go, but you stop believing them after a week.

But Leon...Leon keeps his promise.

He finds you.

With your head tucked over a packet of field rations, he pushes through a passing throng of soldiers and calls your name. You choke on a mouthful of rice and kidney beans and shove the packet to the nearest survivor - there are only a few and they are all hungry - and you run to him.

Your arms wrap around this man you barely know, but he holds you tight, like he’s grateful, and you both rock on your feet there in the middle of camp.

“Where did they take you?” you ask.

“They...wanted to talk to me about Sherry.” His hands are on your bare arms for the first time, hot-palmed on the raw-scrubbed skin beneath the sleeves of your t-shirt. He says, “They may want to talk to you, too.”

Leon on sees the hesitation on your face before even you know it’s there. “Come on,” he smiles, the edges of it broken, “Don’t worry about it now. Let’s take a walk.”

You walk for minutes, tens of them, and every few steps his arm brushes yours.

“They want you to stay with them, don’t they?”

You say it so that he doesn’t have to. He nods, slowly, and your hand finds his. This time, the pair are you aren’t dragging one another out of danger, this time you can squeeze just enough to feel the grooves of Leon’s palm.

He squeezes back.

5.

When Leon finds you for the fifth time, a badge hangs from the lanyard around your neck. Your suit is as black as the 9mm holstered at his thigh. He’s harder now than he was two years ago, healed over and tougher like the scar on your shoulder.

The debriefing hurts you - you watch his face and feel cold when it looks like the others of the men with whom he marched in. One of the suits - one of your people - introduces you to him as another survivor from Raccoon City and you haven’t known fear like you do in that moment for the last two years. Because Leon’s mouth is a straight, firm line and his eyes spark with nothing. He waits until the officers are gone to remember you.

“You stayed,” he says, filling up the doorway to your office like a shadow. His clothes are dark, his arms scarred. His eyes are liars eyes - you see that now as you look up from your desk. They hadn’t given away the truth to the anyone else in the meeting; they had fooled you, too.

Standing from your chair, you move around to his side of the your desk.

“So did you,” you say.

The words sound like accusations - yours and his.

“How...how have you been?”

“Alive,” you reply, “Safe.”

His mouth quirks at one corner and he lifts one arm carelessly in your direction. “Care to share any pointers?”

“Find some rookie cop you can reliably outrun and who shoots better than you.”

Leon smiles, suddenly young like you remember, and you return it. It grows, mutates until it’s too big and laughter interrupts the quiet of the office. When it tapers off, dying like everything inevitably does, you are left nodding.

“I missed you, Leon.”

He laughs a half-breath, glancing at the floor and then back to you.

“Missed you first,” he says, “Nothing’s gone the way -”

“The way it should have? The pretty way?” you supply.

“Yeah,” he seems satisfied, “the pretty way.”

He takes a step closer, more in your office than out of it, and you’re glad the space between you is closing. A mile is better than a universe. Beneath his body armor, his steps are timid, inch by inch, and you meet him halfway.

“You can’t stay, can you?”

You know the answer.

“They won’t let me.”

You knew it.

Two years feel suddenly short as you dip your head forward to rest your forehead beneath his chin. You don’t expect his arms to go around you, don’t need them to, but they do and he presses you to his chest as though he needs it.

Your words are muffled by his nearness.

“Be safe wherever you go, Leon.”

He nods - you feel the rise and fall of his chin against your hair followed by the burn of his lips at your temple. Red-hot, there just long to brand you.

“When I get back,” he says, promises, “I’ll find you.”

[skizmin]

Ravenclaw Woojin

genre: fluff of course, sorta?? enemies to lovers but?? not really???, an adamant y/n and a soft woojin,,,, none of the other members appear which i didnt even realise until i finished

okay so woojin is ravenclaws most trusted prefect as hes the eldest one and literally does The Most to make himself available for others

seriously once he asked the defence against the dark arts professor for a 2 week extension on his assignment so he could tutor 5 people for the upcoming charms exam 

like,,,,,,,, damn

anyway so you actually do this extended course of charms, youre in the same class as woojin and for some reason??? the fact that hes so naturally good at it pisses you off

especially when youre falling slightly behind in that class

okay a LOt behind

your like,, only friend in that class is dropping it next term to focus on her divination classes and she doesn’t get it either but it doesnt affect her grades not nearly as much as it affects yours. 

shes all “dude just ask for woojin to tutor you” and youre like 

No NO no

no way are you being tutored by kim woojin. the idea just embarrasses you

you’re usually fine with getting help from peers but woojin?? everyone goes to him for tutoring and you sorta just dont??? wanna put yourself into that group???

you feel like it makes you inferior to him for some reason which is the worst feeling ever

(even tho you totally arent bc youre beating him in potions anyway)

anyway so its a wednesday morning and the class is about to end to allow the students to go have breakfast (you know how extended courses are out of normal school times ye??)

you’re tired as fuck

confused as fuck

hungry as fuck

everything as fuck

but then “y/n!” called you to your senses and you stopped packing your things

your professor had just called you up, an ancient tiny little man who was apart of the great battle of hogwarts some time ago

“yes sir?”

“come here would you?” 

you shoved your ink jar into your bag and nodded, walking out from behind your desk and saying bye to your friend who was leaving already

god she really did hate this class you thought lmao

the majority of the students were still packing their things away in a slow drawl probably instigated by the dim, sleepy light of the chilly morning

“anything i can help you with?” you awkwardly asked your professor who smiled at you, stepping down from his place standing on books to look up at you

“yes actually, ive noticed you’re falling behind.”

you cringed, hard, not even wanting to turn around and see who was watching

“i suggest you get a tutor if you wanna get an A for this semester, y/n.”

“sir, i don’t have time to be tutored!”

“well then i guess you’re going to fail this course y/n. just be tutored enough to catch you up on the syllabus and then i can help you with the rest, okay?”

you internally groaned. this was bad

“you’re smart, it’ll only be about 2 weeks before youre caught up. im sure theres plenty of people that would tutor you.”

you nodded and politely fare-welled the teacher before turning to walk out of the classroom

the classroom was surprisingly empty, and you were happy to see that, not really excited about your professor sharing the fact that you were failing the course

sighing to yourself, you walked out of the door, planning to go meet your friends in the great hall

“hey! wait! y/n!” 

you whipped around, half scared to death

the halls were practically empty yet

there was kim woojin

standing right next to the doorway you had just exited

your head tipped back. had he really been standing there the whole time?

“do you wanna meet tonight or something? we can go to the library?”

you gave him a pointed stare

“what? why?”

woojin was a little taken aback, he grew smaller under your gaze.

“oh, so i can- you know, tutor you? i heard you were behind by a bit.”

he looked almost embarrassed at how you were responding to his offer as you sharpened your gaze on him

“i dont need you to tutor me. i can find someone else.”

and with that you left a frowning, dumbfounded woojin standing in the hallway as you stalked off to the great hall

stupid woojin

who did he think he was asking you to meet him in the library

surely you can catch up on your own, you really dont need his help. you’re like, shaking your head lmao

smh

but anyway, the end of the day comes and you grab all these phat stacks of parchment and take you study charm books to the library and sit at the farthest ever table away from literally everyone

you start studying properties of all the spells youve learnt this second term

you get to the third spell, aparecium, one youve been having a lot of trouble remembering

you groaned, looking up in your book what exactly the spell meant and remembering it was in fact a revealing charm and you didnt have any pages with invisible ink on them. 

you began flipping further into the book, trying to find the incantation for concealing ink writing so you could practise 

“h-here.” 

you fuCKING LEAPED IN YOUR SEAT

BITCH TF

THAT SCARED YOu oh my god what was he doing here

“s-sorry for scaring you b-but, its got concealed writing on it so you can, like- practise?”

he sounded sorta hopeful as he slid the paper over to you, hands nervously twining with each other in front of him afterwards

your pride was getting to you tho so

��i’m good at that spell, i don’t need to practise it.”

woojin blinked and squinted at you a little, trying to figure out whether or not you were lying

“ooookayyyy. anyway, anything else you want help with? i can explain it a little bit for you?”

you resisted the MASSIVE urge to roll your eyes at him

we get it, youre good at this

“im okay, thanks.”

you expect woojin to leave then, and it seems he does too as he stutters in his movement before clenching his eyes shut

“do you not l-like me or something? or did i-, did i do something to you?” he peeked an eye open to gauge your reaction

he looked almost

scared?

oh no, oh no

what was this guilt? you could feel your glare softening in an instant

why are you liKE THIS

“n-no! i dont!” you stuttered out a reply, eyes widening slightly

and then, he smiled. and he smiled wide

you felt blinded almost, your heart started palpitating. so this is what it was like to have woojin smile at you, and you only.

you were fucked

“oh! okay then! sorry i just-, i just thought i’d annoyed you or something so..” he trailed off, tapping his shoe on the ground suddenly very interested in the lamp on the library desk

“anyway!” he spoke up again. “i’ll uh, i’ll leave you to it. and don’t forget to practise aparecium. it’ll be on the next test for sure.” he grinned at you again and you sorta maybe might have felt heat crawling to your cheeks.

“t-thanks woojin.”

he nodded at you, still smiling before leaving

you banged your head on the table, what in the world was that interaction

whilst burying your face in your hands you noticed he had left the enchanted paper with you, you shrugged

might as well use it, right?

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, shit

1 and a half hours later yu were groaning out of pure frustration with yourself. no matter how perfectly you practised the incantation or how directly you swished your wand at the page, nothing appeared

no writing or anything

you were beginning to wonder if woojin gave you the right piece of parchment, that this was the one with the invisible ink

you shook your head, looking at the clock closest to you and deciding it was too late to be studying and that your brain mustnt be working right,

you packed up your stuff and went back to your dorm, making sure to get as good a sleep as possible because you had another extension charms lesson tomorrow morning

,,,

anyway so you woke up late in the morning with a sore neck and red eyes. 

this was Not Good

quickly tugging on your robes and frantically shoving things into your bag whilst brushing your teeth you rushed out of you dormitory and ran all the way to the charms classroom

you ran in out of breath, your professor looking at you with an unimpressed look. “glad to see you could make it y/n.” he drawled before turning back to the blackboard

you whined as you saw him writing a test warning for 2 weeks time, sleepily stumping your way over to your friend who was laughing at you loudly

unpacking your things, you glanced around the room. eyes landing on woojin who had a hand resting under his chin staring right back at you

your cheeks went a bit red when he smiled at you, giving you a small wave before turning his head to the board again

your friend next to you shoved you a little bit, when your turned your head you face her she simply mouthed an i saw that

you rolled your eyes and paid attention to the rest of the lesson without any distractions

anddddd thennnnnn it was over

you blinked, your notes were cleaner today than usual

“hey, y/n!” you looked up to find woojin standing in front of your desk, toothy grin on his face as per usual

your heart sorta skipped a beat before you were able to tell it not to

“hey woojin :))” you smiled, trying your best to sound friendly whilst not looking like an absolute fool

he sorta squinted at you a bit before “so uh, how was studying?”

it was your turn to look at him sceptically this time

“it was,,,,,, good??” you questioned, unsure of how to respond

woojins smile sorta falters before coming back with a somewhat sad lilt to it

“ah, right. well i gotta go. my friends are waiting.” and with that he nodded at you and left

you were confused as fuck

well, that was certainly weird

anyway, for the next week and 3 days, woojin completely avoided you

you’d be fine with this of course if you hadnt gotten that little soft spot for him a while back

it sorta hurt when your smiled at him and he sorta just sadly smiled back and looked away, or if you were gonna say hi to him he’d scurry away before one word could leave your mouth

you were really down about it honestly

bUT you also didnt have time to worry about it

your test was in FOUR. DAYS. 

AND you had studied everything else to the best of your ability apaRT from the revealing charm, aparecium.

you wanted to cry, no one could explain it well enough to you and you could say the incantation right bc everyone spoke too fast and apparently you had to use it MULTIPLE times on the tes to maKE QUESTIONS APPEAR. 

QUESTIONS

INVISIBLE QUESTIONS THAT COUNT TOWARDS YOUR MARK

basically, you were having a mental breakdown and you knew there was only one person left to try and explain it to you

kim woojin

again, he was A V O I D I N G    Y O U

which made you angry bc you neED TO GET AN A

anyway, so your class on a tuesday was an afternoon class and you sorta just planned to corner him there after class

flitwick usually left 10 minutes early to arrive at his choir practises on time and put a charm on the door so no student could leave early

so the time comes, the bells ring and students rush out of the class you go and lie in their beds or whatever most teenagers do nowadays

and you make your way over to woojin’s desk as he packs up his things, he was always the last to leave

you coughed to get his attention, when he looked up his eyes widened

“i need your help.” you stated, eyes boring into his, you could swear you saw pink flush over his cheeks

“im uh, im busy. sorry y/n-”

“just one charm? please? i really need it, no one else can explain it.”

woojins eyes softened and he bit his lip. he was contemplating.

“okay.” you smiled at him widely “lets try now, okay?”

you nodded, placing you bag down and grabbing out some enchanted pieces of parchemnt, including the one he gave you

you sat down next to him and he look confused

“whats the paper for?”

“the aparecium charm.” you replied simply, turning to face him

a look of realisation dawned over his face

“i thought you said you were good at that charm?” he muttered

you looked at him weird, why was he acting so strange?

“i lied, i didnt want help back then but i do now. so,”

and then he grinned widely, taking a piece of paper that wasnt the one he gave you and telling you to watch closely

“aparecium.” he said, clearly. swishing his wand almost expertly

you looked at the paper in front of you and saw the writing of hello appear on it in your cursive handwriting

you looked up at him in aw.

“can you say it again? slowly? i dont think im pronouncing it right.”

woojin giggled

G I G G L E D

and repeated himself, clear and slow. you nodded at him, taking a random piece of paper and clearing your throat

“wait!” woojin yelped “use this one!” 

you furrowed your brows as he shoved the piece of paper he gave you in the library in front of you

“uh, okay?” you replied, glancing up at his smile

clearing your throat again, you swished you wand and spoke clearly. “aparecium.”

nothing happened to the paper and you groaned loudly

“oh, y/n, your pronunciation is perfect. its the swish thats wrong.”

you bored your eyes into him “what?”

“youre doing it this way. youre supposed to do it this way” he flourished his wand to demonstarte to you the wrong doing

you still furrowed your brow, not really seeing the difference between the two

“here, i’ll show you”

o hMY GOD HE 

HE JUST GRABBED YOUR HAND HOLY SHIT

SIRENS CALL THE AMBULANCE

YOU REALLY ALMOST CHOKED ON AIR

suddenly you felt fire all over. red surely covering your face as you tried to concentrate but holY SHIT

“okay so youre going like this.” he moved your hand in his own, making out the movement you made before

“but you should be doing this.” 

o h

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh

now you get it

you wanted to bang your head on the table for being so dumb about it

“oH RIGHT! woojin you’re literally a life saver!”

he laughed again, retracting his hand from yours as red splashed over his cheeks and onto his ears

“well, go on! try it!

you smiled, looking down at the paper and saying a strong and clear incantation whilst moving your wand exactly how woojin showed you to

you squeALED in excitement as ink dotted onto the page! 

you grabbed woojin by the forearm and raised it above both of your heads in celebration

he laughed and cheered along with you before you settled down, beginning your massive thank you speech.

“seriously i couldnt have done it without your help i could have faile-”

“y/n, read it.” woojin smiled at you

“what?” you replied, confused

“read the parchment.”

eyebrows furrowing once again you looked down at the parchment with now visible ink

do you wanna maybe go to hogsmeade with me this weekend?

your eyes widened

no way

no way no way no way

you snapped your eyes up to meet his

this is why he avoided you! he thought youd rejected him in such a selfish cold hearted way!

“i’ve uh, actually liked you for a while. we missed last weekend but im down to go next weekend if you want?”

“i- i, i mean, y-you! of course! i’ll go with you, yeah! oh my god i am so sorry you mustve thought i was such a bitch i shouldnt have lied im an awf-”

oh my fUCKING GOD

CODE FUCKING RED HIS HANDS WHERE ON YOUR CHEEKS

AND HIS LIPS ON YOURS

BREATHING? WHOS SHE

your eyes clenched shut as you reached to grab the front of his robes, kissing him back

you felt so goddamn dizzy, your mind cloudy at the absolute bliss of the feeling of his lips and how they moved against yours

he started smiling against you and had to pull away, his eyes glimmering and heart beating out of his chest

“i’ll pick you up at your dorms at 10, okay?”

god, youve never smiled harder.

[perksofhs]

‘Baby you know I love you right?’

Hi lovelies! Here is my first request piece! I’m adding it to “The Words You Speak” series because I think it fits well!

He’d started feeling ill a few days before Christmas Eve, a sniffly nose, sore throat, hot and cold sweats and a fever leading to the conclusion that he had in fact come down with a rather bad flu. He was nuzzled under a mound of blankets that every couple of hours would be thrown off at the onset of a hot sweat even though he knew he’d be freezing in about 10 minutes and have to pull them all back up. He was surrounded by an ever growing number of used tissues and half empty cold and flu medicine packets. You’d been there the whole time insisting that you loved being the care taker for him like he’d done multiple times for you in the 10 months you’d been together. And it was true, plus he was cute when he was sick, he was super cuddly, wanting nothing but you to be next to him holding him close. You knew getting sick yourself was inevitable but you really couldn’t care less, he needed you and you relished in it.

“Baby you need to eat more than that, two spoonfuls isn’t enough” you said, trying to get him to have at least another few mouthfuls of the soup you had prepared but he refused like a stubborn child. “C’mon its pumpkin, your favourite, please baby have some more, I promise it will make you feel better” he huffed and cautiously pushed himself up into a sitting position “Hm fine i’ll have some more, but only because I love you”. “I love you too, plus you want to be better for Christmas Day, being sick on Christmas is the worst. Eat up buttercup! I’m going to duck to the shop and grab a few things to finish out the Christmas shopping before it gets crazy over the next few days. That better be gone when I get back” you said giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Ok, can you get me some more tissues and cough drops? My throat is still killing me” he said with a pout “Ok baby I’ll add them to the list, I’ll be back in an hour or so, don’t forget to drink water, and take another cold and flu, the last one will be starting to wear off soon an-” “I think I can handle it babe, just go!” Harry laughed, urging you to get out the door. “Fine! Fine! I’m going! Love you baby” you responded, grabbing your keys and twirling your scarf around your neck before opening the door and bracing the brisk December air.  

You’d come home about 2 hours later, trudging inside struggling slightly with the 6 bags of last minute Christmas supplies and a few gifts. You walked down the hallway, dropping the bags on the kitchen island with thud. “Baby how are you feeling? Did you take your cold and flu?” you said, walking into the lounge only to be met with a very asleep Harry, cuddled deep into his blanket nest, messy curls stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead. You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before puling the blankets up slightly, doing your best to gently tuck him in. The room was a mess so you grabbed a spare plastic bag and started tidying the mess. Amongst the tissues, medicine and cough drop wrappers strewn across the coffee table was his leather bound journal, wide open with the a pen resting in the the middle of the two papers. As you reached across to grab the rubbish that surrounded it, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of what was freshly written in the journal. What you read made your heart sink, “I really do love her, please don’t let this be another failed relationship where the love is only from one side again. I don’t think I could handle another broken heart at Christmas. I need her to love me too”. It took you a moment to process those words. Why would he ever think that you weren’t truly in love with him? When he’d said ‘I love you’ you’d said it right back, tears in your eyes, no hesitation or questioning whether you loved him back because it was so obvious that you did. You knew his last couple of relationships didn’t end well but you had no idea that his heart had been broken once or maybe twice at what was meant to be the most magical time of the year.

The sound of Harry starting to stir awake snapped you out of your thoughts, quickly swiping the last few tissues into the bag, flipping the journal closed as if you’d read nothing. Although you couldn’t hide the sadness in your face, the fact that you were on the verge of tears was all too evident. “Mmm baby you’re back” Harry mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yep, got everything done, all ready for Christmas day now.” you tried to brush off what you’d just found out but your voice was every so slightly wavering. “Babe are you ok? you sound sad” He said, reaching out to grab your free hand, stopping you from trying to walk away. A tear slid down your cheek at his words, you frantically tried to wipe it away and brush it off “Yeah yeah I’m fine” you assured but he wasn’t that stupid. “No you’re not, what happened? Did something happen while you were out? Are you hurt?” he worried about you going out by yourself now that your relationship was known to the world. Your features softened, you debated with yourself on whether to mention what you’d just read, on one hand it’s a massive invasion of privacy and it was obviously not meant for your eyes to see but you also needed him to understand that you were committed, fully, to this relationship, to him. “Baby you know I love you right? No ifs ands or buts, I really truly love you” you said, finalising your decision, not answering the questions he’d posed. For a moment he looked completely confused, the sudden profession of your love for him taking him by surprise but then it clicked and his eyes flicked across to his journal.

His expression changed to one of guilt. “Did I do something that made you question it? Do I not show it enough? I don’t know what else I can do!” you said, kneeling down to his level, taking his hands into yours, him gripping them tighter than he ever had. “No baby its nothing you did, I’ve just had so many failed relationships that I can’t turn my brain off when it starts questioning things. You know it was around Christmas two years ago that my last proper relationship broke down?” He was nearly crying, his already red eyes welling up. You knew his last girlfriend was a piece of work but you never imagined she’d be that heartless, especially at Christmas. “Harry I had no idea” you said, placing your hands on his cheeks, lifting his tired sad eyes to meet your similarly watery ones “I can promise you though, right here right now, that that will never happen with me. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. Not only have you added to my life in the most positive way but you have changed me for the better. You helped me realise my worth. You are the most kind, most genuine, most loving partner I have ever have and ever intend on having because you are my end zone Harry. There is no doubt in my mind that you are my person and you shouldn’t have any doubt either. I love you H, and I will forever.” The tears were rolling down his cheeks, as they were yours, a watery smile on his lips. You pulled in him, placing your lips ever so gently on his, solidifying the words that you’d just said. His hands rose to your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “Thank you” is all he could manage to say. “Thank you for what?” you enquired, puzzled by his response. “Thank you for loving me, for loving me entirely. I love you so much” he said before pulling you up into the warmest hug. You smiled, finally content with him knowing that there was never a need to be insecure, you loved him and he loved you and that was that.

You pulled away from the hug, sniffing back the rest of the tears “Ok now that we’ve got that all sorted, have you taken your cold and flu? You’re feeling a little warm” he couldn’t help but chuckle at you getting straight back into carer mode. “I did take them and I ate all of my soup I promise, all I want right now is for you to stay here with me, I need a proper cuddle.” You laughed, happily obliging, plopping yourself down next to him, his arms wrapping themselves securely around your waist with yours around his neck “I love you baby” you said, pecking a kiss to his slightly sweaty neck “I love you too baby, so much” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes contently asking himself what he ever did to deserve any of this.

Ok lovelies I’m sorry this took me literally two weeks to get this done! Christmas and New Years was a bit of a whirlwind at my house! This yet another instalment of the ‘The Words You Speak’ series! If you want to read any more of my writings you can find them here! Also if there is anything you want me to write requests are open here! ope everyone had a lovely festive season and fun New Year! xxx

[beyondthedreamline]

Any World But This, Part 2

Remember that Veronica Mars Fringe AU I started once upon a time? Probably not! It’s been years! Nevertheless, better late than never, so here is part two. Happy birthday, @ghostcat3000!

-

It’s ten to seven on Monday morning. Wallace has stripped out of his hazard suit and is freezing to death like the martyr to modern law enforcement that he is while the Mars women face off on the sidewalk outside Starbucks. Streamers of police tape billow back and forth between them. There are eleven dead people inside. From what Wallace can tell, they more or less exploded.

Lianne Mars is still upset that she couldn’t make herself a coffee.

“There was pumpkin spice! I could smell it!” she protests.

“Really?” Veronica hisses, and Wallace is familiar enough with that sound to wince. For a tiny blonde pixie of a woman, there are times she strongly resembles a cobra. “Because all I could smell was blood.”

“The barista is dead,” Lianne continues reasonably. “If I solve his murder I’m sure that’s worth a free coffee.”

“You are a piece of work,” Veronica grits out, and walks away with her hands shoved deep in her pockets, like she’s afraid of what she might do with them if she stays.

Wallace is 98% sure she will come back. She has after every other fight. Lianne watches her daughter go with a look of utter confusion, like she just can’t figure out what she did wrong, and Wallace feels bad that he feels bad for her. Lianne Mars is a dictionary definition of ‘mad scientist’. Her file reads like a pulp horror novel and after just a week working with her, Wallace is beginning to think that is the tip of the iceberg. But here she is, wrapped up several layers of mismatching wool, pouting because she didn’t get her treat.

“How about we stop by a different Starbucks on the way back to the lab?” Wallace suggests.

She smiles at him, wide and happy. “Can we do that, William?”

“Wallace,” he corrects, for what feels like the hundredth time. She never remembers his name. He almost doesn’t take it personally any more. “Sure we can. I’ll go let Agent Echolls know.”

A row of nondescript black vans are parked in a no-parking zone, screening the cafe from the morbid curiosity of passersby. Echolls is sitting on the hood of the one at the front, phone clamped to his ear, one long black shoe hanging down to tap rapidly against the pavement. All he’s said so far is a monotone “Yes, ma’am” at long intervals, which probably means Navarro is reading him the riot act.

Wallace is secretly on Navarro’s side. Echolls is a wild card. He can rattle off every official spiel in the book and then the next thing you know he’s picking a lock or breaking a window without turning a hair. It was an open secret in the department that he was hooking up with Agent Bishop, who was her own unique brand of unreliable brilliance; then came the Flight 167 crisis and Bishop was exposed to a chemical agent that put her into a coma. Wallace is never going to forget the sight of her, skin the colour and texture of ice, the veins stark blue underneath.

That was Wallace’s first experience with fringe science.

By the time he got involved, Fringe Division was already a team. There’s Agent Navarro, old-school, hardass, ex-army, literal and figurative grandmother to generations of agents. She was put in charge of the division due to what she terms ‘field expertise’ and seems to have been regretting it ever since. Echolls, of course, is her exasperating right hand. Agent Mackenzie is tech support, which is about as deep as she is currently willing to dip her toe into this mess, and she’s valuable enough at a desk that Navarro isn’t pushing her on it yet.

Then there’s Lianne Mars, scientific wunderkind of the 70s, patient of a mental hospital for nearly two decades, released a month ago into the care of her only living relative – that being Veronica Mars, who is only here because Echolls blackmailed her onto a plane and has been throwing roadblocks into her way ever since. He hoped Lianne could save Bishop, and she did; from the contagion, anyway. No one realised Bishop would have to be saved from herself.

No one realised Bishop was a traitor.

Now she’s dead and Lianne is free, Veronica is angry and Echolls is…unpredictable.

He hops off the van and gives an order to the driver inside. The vans peel away from the sidewalk in a little cavalcade, stocked up with nightmarish evidence that will soon be laid out in Lianne’s laboratory for analysis. She claps her hands excitedly as they go.

“It’s going to be a good day, Winston!” she says.

Wallace sighs. “Let’s get that coffee, Dr Mars.”

*

It takes nearly forty eight hours, but Veronica does come back, walking into the diner and sliding into the booth next to Wallace like she hasn’t noticed Echolls glaring at her. “What are you having?” she asks, leaning into Wallace’s side and eyeing up his hash browns. He catches the waitress’s eye, raises a hand. He’s learned fast that Mars women are mean when they’re hungry.

“Charmed you could join us,” Echolls drawls from the other side of the table, where he’s sitting next to Lianne. He looks haggard this morning; Wallace would sympathise more about his clearly abysmal sleep cycle if he didn’t feel the need to impose it on everyone else.

“I thought you’d gone back to California,” Lianne says anxiously. “Veronica, why didn’t you go, it’s not safe here. There’s a serial killer boiling people’s brains with their own blood.”

The waitress freezes next to their table. Echolls grins at her, all charm. “Actors,” he says confidingly. “She’s so method.”

“Riiight,” the waitress says, but she takes Veronica’s order, if only to get away as fast as possible.

“Lianne,” Echolls says, gentler than Wallace expects, definitely gentler than Echolls is with anyone else. “Remember how we don’t talk about the special science where people can hear?”

“But Veronica has to go to California,” Lianne says stubbornly. She gets like this sometimes, when she has an idea stuck in her head. “Otherwise they’re going to find her.”

“Who is going to find me?” Veronica demands, leaning across the table. “Mom, what are you talking about? We moved away from California when I was ten, what’s so special about it now?”

Lianne blinks at her. “Jake’s there. He’ll help us.”

Veronica flops back in her seat with a groan. Echolls looks out the window. So they’re back to this: Jake Kane.

“Oh, yeah,” Veronica says, scathingly. “The founder of Kane Dynamic is going to trip over his billions to help his ex-con lab partner and her private dick daughter. I mean, he hasn’t even made a public appearance in years, but for us he’ll make an exception, right?”

Wallace elbows her sharply. If he used a tone like that on his mother, he would already be shrivelling with shame under the laser beam of her disappointment, but Lianne’s face is blank. After a moment, she says, “You’re a private detective? I thought you were going to become a lawyer.”

“Yeah, well,” Veronica says curtly, “plans change.”

Her breakfast arrives at that point, a welcome opportunity to de-escalate the situation while her mouth is full of scrambled eggs. “Kane Dynamic did send over the files Navarro requested, so at least we can get started on interviewing suspects,” Wallace says, steering the conversation back to business. He turns to Veronica. “And I know you’re bummed out that you missed the autopsies yesterday, but guess what, today we’re doing simulations on watermelons!”

“Better than that,” Lianne says eagerly. “Agent Navarro is sending over a corpse to use instead!”

“Right,” Veronica says, in a very similar tone to the waitress.

Echolls grins. “What about it, Mars, are you going to spend today blowing up fruit or grilling Jake Kane’s best and brightest with me?”

Veronica tips her head to one side and smiles back at him, viciously sweet. “I guess it might be fun watching you harass someone else for a change.”

Wallace thinks this is a very bad idea, but he doesn’t get paid enough to risk saying so.

*

The next time Wallace sees Veronica, she’s perched on a hospital bed while Echolls prods masochistically at the bandaged parts of his left arm.

“You were supposed to be interviewing suspects!” Wallace says incredulously. “How did you turn that into a shoot-out?”

“It’s his personality,” Veronica says, but there’s no venom in it, only a bubble of laughter that is almost giddy. “He opens his mouth, triggers get pulled.”

“Got our man, though,” Echolls interrupts, with deep satisfaction.

He looks at Veronica and she looks at him and they’re both grinning like they’ve got away with something, like they can’t wait to do it again. Like somehow, between sniping in the diner and getting shot in a warehouse, they’ve pulled parallel with each other for the first time.

“Navarro is going to kill you,” Wallace observes. He remembers Lianne, going frantic in the lab even after the all clear filtered through, and steps into the hall to call her. When he glances back over his shoulder, Veronica is pulling Echolls’ hand away from the bandages.

“Stop poking it, you’ll make it worse,” she instructs.

“But I’m good at making things worse,” Echolls says lightly. “You said so yourself.”

“I’m sure you’re good at other things too,” Veronica says. “When you try.”

Logan tips his chin down to half-hide a smile, looks up through his eyelashes, and is he blushing? He’s goddamn blushing. “Aw, shucks. Now I know how to make you be nice to me.”

Wallace turns away, clutching his phone. It’s like watching fire flirt with gasoline. Whatever happens next, he has a sinking feeling that he will be caught in the blast radius.

“Don’t give away my secrets,” he hears Veronica say. Her voice has gone soft.

“I won’t,” Echolls says. It sounds like a promise.

[awildhanmonster]

More Ado about Characters:

Alright, now for round 2!  The following characters are all more one-offs and have no direct relation to each other quite the same was as Nell/Leonora/Barnes do, so let’s see if I can keep this under novel length.  

Remy Green, aka Remy:  17 years old in current canon, and still in the last leg of high school, Remy is, for lack of any better term, a reverse werewolf: perpetually stuck in the form of a gangly wolfdog monster on all nights save the brightest of full moons.  Originally just a “normal” human kid just trying to survive through graduation, her entire life wound up turned on its head when an out of control werewolf attacked and bit her while out with friends one night.  He was subdued and arrested, even later charged for the negligence and violent assault, but the damage had been done and the virus passed on— in the worst ways.

Remy essentially suffered the equivalent of a severe allergic reaction and anaphylaxis during the first shift, which took hours (normal were shifts should be minutes) and resulted in her parents frantically driving her to the ER in tears.  She survived, though the diagnosis— for a fragile kid with shaky self esteem— was, at the time, seemingly a fate worse than death.  Despite her form, she never seems to suffer the loss of mindfulness or weakened inhibitions of most werefolk during “peak” moon periods.  

Remy has since started learning how to cope with life in a new form she didn’t really want or ask for, and she has the full, unwavering support of her parents, though it’s still a lot for a teenaged kid to handle.  I’m pretty sure she wound up being pulled from high school and is trying to finish out her last year and a half or so at home, though she could really use some friends she doesn’t think are “obligated” to love her like her parents are.  I think she’s pretty lonely and dealing with a lot of depression issues.  Luckily she’ll fall in with Wayne at some point, who’s like a sweet (greasy stoner) older brother, and he and the rest of the Losers can adopt the hell out of her as a little sister and teach her how to not give a fuck about what humans think when you’re a weirdo.  She’ll earn her happy ending eventually.  

Rose Lund:  Absolutely 100% a retooling/transplant of one of my dearest, most beloved, super shitty/earnest self-insert characters as a 12 year old on Neopets and I have NO SHAME AT ALL.  Rose is a human mage (they do exist!) around 30 or so, a pale/skinny English-Caucasian mutt with green eyes, straight brown hair, and a penchant for fancifully extra looking dyed bang fringies because she’s stopped giving a fuck.  She’s one of those rare people who can strike up a conversation with just about anyone, blessed by a very… unique way with words that’s unintentionally contributed to her internet fame as a slice of life blogger about the day to day trials of pet dragon (well, wyrm) ownership.  

Rose has been passionate about rare and magical exotic creatures since she was a wee girl, and developed an obsession with dragons (‘wyrms’ being the correct term for all non-sentient varieties) before she was out of grade school.  In college she double majored cryptobiology and spell artistry, then upon graduation, acquired a pair of rare pygmy wyrms— from temperate and tundra subspecies— respectively, as pets, both for personal reasons and to aid in her pursuit of a master’s degree in cryptobiological husbandy.

Pygmy wyrms, it should be noted, are generally terrible pets.  While only growing to approximately the size of a house cat (10-12 pounds on average) and sporting the appearance of beautifully miniaturized mythological six-limbed dragons any fantasy nut would fall in love with, they are far from domesticated, exasperatingly precocious, and have the charming habit of expelling flammable gas from a myriad of orifices when startled.  They have a distinctive, vaguely musky sulfurous smell about them regardless of cleanliness and are just clever enough to ignore training commands when convenient.  Imagine giving a very ornery, very clever raccoon flappy wings with a several foot wingspan, feeding it rotten eggs, and strapping a flamethrower to both ends, then rigging it all with an excitable hair trigger.  That is a pygmy wyrm.  Rose owns two in an apartment complex: Ice Pack (Packy), who is a pale milk white/ice blue, and Sharky (Sharkbite), who is black and burgundy/red.  

Needless to say they’re the loves of her lives and she revolves around them, having garnered a massive internet following thanks to her daily posts about their antics and the realities of exotic pet care.  They’re harness trained now and reasonably polite, though this is only due to years of hard work and constant reinforcement.  She hopes one day to breed more biddable specimens and help contribute to the conservation of the species worldwide.  Also, they’ve made her very good at anti-flammability hexes.  

Shun —: known only by her first name, a kitsune who moved into the apartment complex fairly recently with her pet pipe fox, Yuzu.  It should be noted that kitsune are particularly long lived among mythicals, though how long exactly that is tends to be hotly debated and unknown by all but the foxes themselves.  What is known is how they are extremely slow to age after reaching their peak maturity/fitness, with certain individuals reported over 500 years old and, apparently, showing very little of their age beyond a massive swath of grown tails (nine being the highest on known record).  Kitsune typically grow to around 30-40 lbs, outwardly resembling a much large. leggier, more willowy silhouette than traditional foxes, and will begin life with a single tail that splits or “buds” and multiplies over time.  

Neurologically they are fairly unique among mammals, possessing a kind of distributed intelligence throughout the body that can give the tails a “mind of their own”, so to speak, in much the same way as octopi or other related cephalopods do.  In fact, due to the extremely slow rate of cell death/turnover, a severed kitsune tail will continue to move and attempt “functioning” for weeks, even years by some reports, under correct conditions.  Which I’ll get into shortly.  

Swerving back to Shun herself, she’s an artist by trade who zigzags between traditional and digital freelance work for a living.  Conservation of mass is still in place for humanoid shifts— which all kitsune can voluntarily assume— with predictably small, delicate, androgynous bodies that rarely get above 4’5’’ or so in stature.  Features like pointed ears or slit pupils/exposed tails can be morphed or shown as desired, though the chronic perception of being childlike or “cute” regardless of how old they are is a pretty common occurrence.  Shun is no stranger to this either, and hates shopping for clothes at non-mythical-specific places because she has to do so in the *really* young children’s department for anything to fit.  

Back on the subject of pipe foxes, though— Shun is a kitsune with 3 and 3/4 tails.  She had an unspecified accident several years ago in which she lost the final quarter of her fourth tail, but managed to retrieve the piece after several weeks of searching, at which point it was already trying to become a pipe fox.  Pipe foxes (at least in this world) are the result of a severed kitsune tail’s survival instincts going horribly wrong (or right) and attempting to restructure themselves for survival, and the amount of tail there (i.e. how much was separated from the body) will determine what becomes of it, though the “starting” process is pretty identical no matter what you do.  

If a severed piece of tail has no food, eventually, with time, it will die.  If, however, you keep it somewhere safe (like a drawer) and you present it with food (which could be, I don’t know, a chicken leg), it will sense it, and you will see the start of a small, gaping fanged mouth begin to grow from the stump.  Once this has formed, the tail will wriggle itself to its prize and devour everything it can, sustaining it.  Keep feeding the tail and it will continue to grow legs, organs, features, and a face— though not necessarily in that order.  Eventually, you will have a small— usually mouse to rat sized— beautiful white magic fox, prized heavily by black market collectors for its splendor and apparent luck giving properties.  A true quarter-tailed pipe fox will live somewhere between 5-40 years, unpredictably.  The distributed intelligence of the tail will reform/conglomerate into a brain relatively on par with a modern pet dog, possibly smarter (or much dumber) depending on your luck.  

If, however, there is MORE than roughly a quarter tail chopped off, with more of the nervous tissue and mass intact, the pipe fox resulting may appear larger and more robust.  Many exotic buyers have been lured into purchasing these creatures from traders without realizing, and years later the unlucky recipient will find their precious fox’s skin suddenly flaccid on the ground like a shed cocoon, having erupted into 75 tinier pipe foxes that will summarily swarm the accessible property to spirit off with literally anything they decide is valuable, never to be found again, often raging like an infestation for days or WEEKS before vanishing forever.  

Rumor has it that feeding an entire severed tail will result in 75 tiny pipe foxes bursting forth from the cocoon shell that will each burst into 75 more bug sized foxes each, resulting in a plague of nigh biblical proportions.  But that’s never actually been confirmed on record.  

Needless to say the kitsune have a lot of protocols for dealing with severed tails and will usually destroy half-formed pipe foxes of unknown origin on the spot.  Shun keeps Yuzu as a pet due to being intimately aware of the little rat-sized creature’s origins, and she still had to sign SO many extra insurance papers and wavers before the complex would let her move in.  

I am not good at keeping it short, am I?  Wow.  Well, there you have it!  I’d be happy to answer any extra stuff I forgot too if someone has a question.  I do love these nerds.