#what the hell do you mean the man who murdered miles' loving father took him in and made him a shell of his former self

[magicdyke]

playing aai2 case 3 and every time greg mentions miles i feel like bursting into tears

[mothandpidgeon]

THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE - PART 1

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 3500

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.

a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!

Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!

/ / / / /

Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body won’t budge.

“Daddy are you sleeping?” Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Will you help me with my homework?” she asks. She’s clutching a worksheet and a pencil.

“Sure. Come here,” he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. “What’ve we got?”

“I have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,” she explains.

Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. “Did you ask Mommy to do this?”

“I want you to do it,” Molly insists.

He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.

“How do you spell ‘investigation?’” she asks.

“Sound it out,” he encourages. He’s so burnt, he’s not sure he can manage to spell it either.

“‘What is your favorite part about your job?’” she reads.

Dave sighs longer than he means to. “Coming home to my family.”

“No, Daddy! It has to be about work!”

The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when she’d left the house full of nerves. She’d gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.

The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.

“How old are you now? 20?”

“18,” Molly told her.

“You’re the older one?”

“Yeah,” Molly said.

Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldn’t give her Capra’s number if he didn’t trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.

“You know a lot about me for a stranger,” Molly replied.

Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, “Walk with me.”

Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.

“Is Capra your first name?”

“It’s what my friends call me,” she replied.

There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.

“Did you work with my dad at the agency?” Molly asked.

That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.

“No.” Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. “Jeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.”

Molly’s stomach churned.

“Were you and my dad-”

“No,” Capra said. “God no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.”

Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.

“So how did you know each other?” She asked.

“It’s a long story,” Capra said, scratching her forehead. “We did some freelance work together.”

Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what she’d be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.

“Do you know what happened to my dad? How he died?” She’d stopped walking.

“I know the same as you,” Capra said.

“Which is?” Molly asked. She wasn’t going to accept such a vague answer.

Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Molly’s heart sped up. She’d caught Capra in a lie.

“You’re a clever one,” she said.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Molly asked. She searched Capra’s face for an answer. “Please.”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied.

“But you know. Please. I need to know.”

Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.

“You don’t want to know,” Capra said.

“I do,” Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didn’t shake Capra by her shoulders.

“He wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How do you know that?” Molly spat. “What the hell do you know about him? I’ve never even heard of you. You don’t know.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty about your father you didn’t know,” Capra snapped back.

Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.

“Fuck this!” She stomped away.

She’d crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.

“You’re going to want one of these. And you’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.

“Now remember,” Dave says before he opens the door, “this is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.”

She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.

“It’s lying,” she says.

Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?

“But it’s a white lie,” she justifies to herself. “Right?”

Dave kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.”

Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like she’d gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.

Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to “Baba O’Riley” and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone else’s hand.

“It’s a lot,” Capra said. They were sitting in Molly’s parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. “But he did it for you.”

Molly’s eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.

“He was trying to take care of his family,” Capra clarified.

She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what she’d just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.

“My mom-"

“She never knew,” Capra said.

Molly nodded weakly.

“It was a secret because he loved you.”

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didn’t want to feel hurt. She didn’t like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.

“What happened to Mac?” she asked.

She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Mac’s face, his friendly smile.

He’d seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and he’d laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.

It sickened her to know he’d been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?

“He lives up in New England,” Capra said. “Retired.”

Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.

“He’s still alive?” she asked.

“Afraid so,” Capra said.

Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.

“And you do...what my dad did?” she asked.

Capra didn’t confirm or deny it.

“You can’t discuss this. With anyone,” she informed her.

Molly nodded again. She wouldn’t dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.

“I’m sorry about this,” Capra said before they parted ways. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.”

As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.

Dad was a killer. But he’d been a killer before, in the Marines. He’d still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.

If he hadn’t died.

He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.

He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.

If he hadn’t been murdered.

And what about mom? She wouldn’t have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.

If it hadn’t been for Robert McCall.

Molly could absolve her father’s sins. But Mac she would never forgive.

“Young lady, open this door right now,” Dave barks.

“You told me to go to my room! I’m in my room!” Molly snaps through her bedroom door.

She’s given Carol lip all morning and he’s had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.

“You do not slam doors in this house.”

“Leave me alone!” Molly yells. “I hate you!”

Dave knows that she’s angry and she’s got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.

“If that’s how you’re going to speak to your father, then you’re grounded,” he manages.

“Good!”

Molly had been reserved ever since Dave’s death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didn’t make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.

As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. She’d had a good teacher.

She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritual– loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focus– taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.

Mac’s grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gym’s punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.

She didn’t think she’d have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.

Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.

Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.

Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.

Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.

Adulthood was different.

Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadn’t racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldn’t stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.

When it came down to it, she just didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore.

Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.

Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friends’ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.

Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.

It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, “Hey, kiddo!” the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.

It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, you’re locked out forever.

Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldn’t take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.

Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Carol asked, eyeing the box.

Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.

“You know, Mom, if you don’t want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,” Molly said.

Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.

“It’s time,” Carol said. “I don’t need this much house to myself.”

Mom didn’t look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. She’d stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.

“It’s a good idea,” Alice jumped in. “Mom needs to get out there again. She hasn’t met any guys in the suburbs.”

The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didn’t want Carol to be lonely but couldn’t picture her with a man who wasn’t Dad. The same way she couldn’t see her living in a different house.

“I’m going to work on the study,” Molly said and retreated to the home office.

This had been Dad’s room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the years— old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidying— it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dad’s high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldn’t mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.

Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Alice’s 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the ‘keep’ pile.

The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carol’s coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. He’ll be missed.

There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.

So sorry for your loss. It feels like we’ve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac

The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Molly’s stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.

That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.

“What are these?” her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. “Aw! You looked so cute!”

Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.

“Christ, why does Mom still have these?” Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.

“They’re for Dad,” Molly said.

“It’s not like he got to read them,” Alice replied.

She tossed it back onto the floor.

“Why are you always such a bitch about Dad?” Molly asked, the animosity she’d discovered in Mac’s card spilling out of her.

“Sorry I don’t worship him.” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.”

Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. He’d done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldn’t tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.

“Girls, when you’re finished up there, lunch is ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Call me a bitch…” Alice grumbled as she left the room.

Molly pushed the cards into the ‘Trash’ pile.

“Ow! Daddy! Molly hit me!” Alice whines.

“You hit me first!” Molly growls.

Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.

“Is that true?” he asks.

“No!” Alice says.

He knows she’s lying. Molly’s sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.

He knows what he’s supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesn’t work like that.

“If you hit somebody,” he warns, “don’t be surprised if they hit you back.”

Molly took Mac’s card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.

She couldn’t even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

“What’s up, kid?” Capra asked.

“I need to find Mac.”

/ / / / / part three soon!

@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @silverwolf319 @killermonkeys45 @velia27 @anxiousandboujee @amneris21 @green-socks @pedro4ever @pedrocentric @kesskirata

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch46: Just A Formality

Intro: Emmy gets into a spot of trouble at school, which leads the family to make a joint decision that will change their lives forever. And together with their friends they celebrate Jamie’s birthday, will a little surprise for Emmy too. 

Warnings: Bad Language words. Slight angst (teenagers) and Steve being a very overprotective dad…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Yeah, I love this chapter. I hope you all do too. And thank @angrybirdcr​ for the edit...it mushed my insides!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 45

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 February 2021

“So what do you think?” Rhodey asked as he stood, arms folded, looking at the screen. Natasha was stood next to him, nervously chewing on her nail and Steve was looking at the rather gory photos that they had been sent through from the Mexican Authorities.

“Is it definitely him?” Steve sighed, looking at the screen again. In a million years he would never have expected Barton to be capable of such out and out gore and violence, but then again the man had lost his entire family- wife and three kids. Steve wasn’t sure how he would react should anything happen to Katie, Emmy or Jamie.

“Yeah.” Nat sighed, pressing another button. This time it flipped to some CCTV footage of the incident. They three of them watched as Clint took down six gang members, brutally, and with a final swipe of the samurai sword he was holding almost severed one man’s head completely from its shoulders. “Same MO, same fight pattern, and the facial recognition software caught him about five miles north of this town less than two hours before this happened.” “He’s getting more and more vicious.” Rhodey spoke. “I suppose we should be grateful in a way he’s taking down people that we should be stopping but how long till someone gets caught in the cross fire?” “Clint wouldn’t-” Natasha began but Steve cut her off.

“Once I would agree with you.” he sighed, looking at her “But now, well, Nat, he’s…” “Lost it.” Rhodey concluded

“So would you if you’d seen your wife and kids turn to dust.” Nat’s voice was fierce as she turned to look at him.

“I know.” Rhodey held his hands up “I can’t even imagine what he went through.”

Steve looked at Nat, recognising the pensive look on her face. “What you thinking?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m gonna fly out to Mexico. Rhodey, can you come with me? We’ll see if we can dig anything up?” Rhodey nodded. Steve was about to offer his services too, but then his phone started ringing.

“Hey beautiful.” He greeted Katie, but instead of the usual response of either hello handsome or soldier, he was met with an exasperated sigh.

“Emmy’s Principal has just called me.” She groaned “She’s been in a fight.”

Steve frowned. “Really? What for?” “No idea. He didn’t say much other than he’s excluding her for a week and wants us to go collect her as soon as we can. Thing is, I have a call in twenty with the Health Authorities, President Ellis has asked me to give them some guidance on how we regrouped at SI, and I can try and rearrange but if I can’t it means she’s gonna be sat outside the office for at least an hour and a half. Is there any chance you-”

“I got, course I’ll go. I’m done here anyway so you do what you need to do and we’ll see you at home.”

“Thank you.” She sighed “Between this and Jamie screaming blue murder when I dropped him in at the Day Care this morning It hasn’t really been the spectacular return to work I was hoping for.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “He didn’t take it well then?” “No.” Her voice cracked “God, Steve, Leaving him there whilst he was screaming, fuck, it broke my heart.” Steve took a sigh and walked a little further away from Rhodey and Natasha, dropping his voice. “Honey, he’ll be fine. You know what he’s like. Ten minutes after you left he will have forgotten why he’s so upset and will have settled.”

“I know, I just, well Mom and Dad used to palm me and Tony off on our Nannies all the time and-”

“This is completely different.” Steve cut her off. “First off, you’re leaving him for what, five hours a day, maximum. Second off, he’s being watched at a crèche, twenty floors down from where you are, in the same building so you can see him whenever you want.”

“I was advised by the Staff not to do that today.” She sniffed. “It could unsettle him more.”

“I’m sure they know what they’re talking about.” Steve soothed her gently “Look, try not to worry. Jamie will be fine, I’ll go sort Emmy out and we’ll see you at home this evening okay?” “My hero.” she said and Steve smiled.

“Love you, see you later.”

Cutting the call he turned to Rhodey and Nat who were still looking at the screen. Walking back towards them he picked up his jacket where he had tossed it over the back of a chair, reaching for his keys at the same time.

“Guys, I gotta go.” He informed them and they looked up. “Emmy’s in trouble at school and I need to head in and see the Principal.”

“Trouble?” Nat frowned.

“Fighting.” Steve rolled his eyes as Nat and Rhodey exchanged a glance, Nat smirking slightly. Steve gave an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“Nothing.” Nat grinned. “Just don’t punch the Principal in the face…”

*****

It took Steve little over thirty minutes to reach the school. He may have broken a few speeding laws on the way, but Katie was right, it was too easy to do in the Camero. To be honest, it was pretty easy to do in the new Audi they had bought just before Christmas too, but Katie had that as it was easier to get Jamie’s seat and stroller in. The Camero was not child friendly, at all, but she had insisted on keeping it as a second car, despite Steve’s protests that they didn’t need it.

With an easy tug he pulled open the doors to the reception of the school and strode inside. The woman behind the desk handed him a visitor’s pass and led him down to the office as he brushed a piece of fluff off the front of his long sleeved blue top. Steve followed the white haired lady through the corridors in silence until he reached the office and spotted Emmy was sat outside it, slumped in a chair. At the sight of her father she jumped up and ran into his arms, crying.

“Hey,” He looked down as he smoothed her dark, ebony hair out of her face, cupping her face gently in one large hand. “What’s going on, Em?” “He started it.” She sniffed. “He was saying things, about you and mom and that my birth parents and that…that…”

She was starting to have a panic attack, Steve could see that instantly. She’d suffered from them a lot when she had first started to live with them and he knew that if he didn’t help her get it under control now it would escalate.

“Deep breaths.” He spoke gently, steering her back to a chair. She sat down and he tilted her head with his hand so that she was looking at him. “Count to ten, just like we practiced ok?”

She gripped onto his forearms, her eyes screwing shut as she took deep inhales and exhales, counting along as she did. By the time she got to seven she’d managed to ground herself again, and Steve encouraged her for the remaining three numbers, them just reaching ten as the door to the office at the end of the corridor opened.

“Mr Rogers.”

 Steve stood up to greet the Principal, John Stevenson, who he had met once before when they had enrolled Emmy into the school. He was a tall, lean man with round glasses and a kind face, but an air of authority perfect for that of a headmaster “Mr Stevenson.” Steve smiled, shaking his hand “I don’t mean to be rude, but could you give me a second with my daughter please? I want to hear her side of the story and then I’ll be right with you.”

“Of course,” the man nodded, giving him and Emmy a little smile. “Just come in when you’re ready.”

Once the door to his office was shut, Steve sat on the spare seat next to Emmy. “So you wanna tell me what happened. Who ya been fightin’ with?”

“A boy a grade above. And I wasn’t fighting. Not really, I mean I hit him but he fell over, he didn’t hit me back.” Steve bit his lip. “Seems the stuff your mom and Auntie Nat taught you came in handy, huh?”

Emmy shrugged.

“What did you hit him for?”

“Because he’s a jerk and a bully” Emmy’s hands were wringing together. “He was picking on a few of the kids who lost their parents all through last year and then last month when I told him to shut up, he decided to start on me”

Steve took a deep breath “What was he saying?”

“The usual, stuff like ‘you don’t have a real family’, said that you and mom only look after me because you feel guilty that the Avengers fucked, sorry, messed up.” She glanced up at Steve, but he merely arched an eyebrow, letting the curse word slide. “And he says that once I’m old enough you’ll throw me out, and then he called me a, and I quote ‘fucking orphan rat’.” She shrugged. “Sso I punched him.”

“Alright.” Steve took a deep breath, his jaw ticking as he supressed the feeling of annoyance and anger that had flooded his system at Emmy’s explanation. “We’ll unpack all that when we get home, with your mom.”

“Are you mad?” Emmy blinked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Well, punching him probably wasn’t the best way to deal with the situation.” Steve sighed, and instantly his wife’s voice popped into his head at how hypocritical he felt. 

“Hello Kettle, this is Steve Rogers, you’re black…”

“But if what you’re telling me is true-“   “It is Dad I swear!”

“Then no, I’m not mad. At you.” He gave her a small smile. “But I’m mad as hell he said those horrible things to you though.” He looked at Emmy as she smiled softly. “Now, I best go speak to your principal. I won’t be long, and then we’ll go home and talk properly okay?”

She nodded and Steve dropped a kiss to her head as he stood up and walked to the door. Rapping on it twice, he pulled it open and stepped inside the room, shutting it behind him. Principal Stevenson stood up, shook his hand before gesturing down at the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

“So did she tell you what happened?” The man asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.

Steve nodded. “She said that a boy, I didn’t get his name…” “Josh Gemmil.” “Yes, well, she told me that this Josh had been picking on a few kids and when he started on her, she didn’t take kindly to it. And to be frank, I can’t say I blame her. The things he was saying to Emmy were disgusting.” “Yeah, and that may be the case.” Mr Stevenson sighed heavily, “but the issue is, Mr Rogers, we have a strict zero tolerance to violence policy, so, given Emmy did punch him in front of pretty much the entire school in the yard, I’ve no alternative but to suspend her for a week.” “Are you suspending him?” Steve asked.

“Sorry?” The man opposite Steve frowned. “I’m not…” “The boy who Emmy punched. Are you suspending him for what he said?”

“No-one has corroborated her story, well, other than Brooke and I know how close they are so she could be-” “Woah, hold up.” Steve interrupted, holding his hand up to cut that man off as a flash of anger surged through his chest. “Are you insinuating Emmy is lying?” “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” “So if she’s telling the truth, then surely the boy deserves punishment as well. Emmy isn’t the only person he’s been saying things to.”

“She’s the only person who has punched him.” “That may be, but either way-.”

“Mr Rogers,” the Principal sighed, cutting him off,  “for what it’s worth Josh’s parents will be coming in later and I will be consulting them about his behaviour, but unfortunately Emmy has broken his nose.” “Well, I’d like to say I’m sorry about that but I’m not.” Steve was too far gone now to be rational, his instinct to protect his daughter had well and truly kicked in and the guy in front of him was really pissing him off. “I don’t like bullies,” he continued, levelling the man with a look and he visibly recoiled back into his seat, “and I’m not gonna punish my daughter for standing up to one. If you deem it fit to suspend her then fine, that is your prerogative, and of course I will tell her that violence is not acceptable, but I would expect some level of punishment to be extended to the boy in question and not just her.”

The Principal nodded. “Mr Rogers, I can assure you, if it was up to me I wouldn’t be suspending her at all, but my hands are tied by the governors and policies. I make an exception here, I have to do it for others and before you know it…” he trailed off. Steve took a deep breath, he could understand that perfectly, didn’t make it any easier for him to swallow though. “But that’s why the suspension is only for a week and not the two.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, do I need to sign anything or…”

“No.” the Principal shook his head. “Emmy has her log on to Workspace, her class notes and homework will be detailed on there as usual so she doesn’t miss out. If there is anything she doesn’t understand or needs help with, she can catch up when she gets back. She’s a very, smart kid so I’m not too concerned about that aspect of things.” Steve nodded, and stood up. He took a deep breath and stepped back into the corridor to find Brooke was sat with Emmy now, her arm round her best friend.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Steve asked, shooting the red head a look.

“Hey Mr R, don’t sweat it. Told em I was going to the bathroom.” Brooke shrugged and Steve rolled his eys.

“Well scoot before you get into trouble too.” He gestured with his head to the doors that led back to the reception area.

“Can Brooke come over later?” Emmy asked, timidly, “Or am I grounded?”

Steve took a deep breath “Not tonight, we need to have a chat. But over the weekend then, sure.” “’kay.” Emmy nodded, standing up. She reached for her rucksack but Steve took it from her, carrying it in his right hand, his left gently between Emmy’s shoulder blades as he steered her towards the exit. As they walked into the reception, Emmy stopped dead and he heard Brooke who was walking along at his other side mutter an ‘uh-oh’.

“This her?” A short, squat woman with a very short hair cut was stood a few feet in front of him, a boy by her side, a few inches taller than her, dressed in a bloodied T-shirt glared at Emmy and nodded. Instantly Steve moved forward a step so he was level with his daughter, his hand dropping to her shoulder.

“Your daughter broke my son’s nose.” The woman glared up at him.

“So I understand.” Steve nodded. “She has been suspended and we’ll be dealing with it appropriately.”

“You know, kids like her, they shouldn’t be-”

“Kids like her?” Steve blinked at the woman, and shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Steve’s voice was low. “So, please, explain.”

“I mean with violent and aggressive tendencies, they should be locked up not in a school with normal kids-” “Woah, now hang on.” Steve held his hand up as he looked at the woman. “Your son isn’t exactly innocent in all this.” “I don’t see your daughter with blood all over her shirt. He didn’t hit her…” “I would hope not, seeing as he’s a boy and half a foot taller than her.” He shot back and the woman’s mouth snapped shut. Steve turned to Emmy and handed her the backpack and his keys. “Go and get in the car, sweetheart, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Emmy glanced up at him, one look on his face told her he wasn’t to be argued with, and she nodded and took them from him, before leaving.

His attention then turned to the teenager and woman and he folded his arms across his chest, glaring at them both. The boy had a sharp face, slicked back blonde hair and for some reason he reminded Steve of a younger Gilmore Hodge. Which was never a good thing. He looked at the woman and spoke again, his voice level but full of that Captain Authority he could never help turning on in situations like this.

“Your son said some very nasty things to my daughter, and in normal circumstances he should be apologising. However, given what happened I suggest we leave it at that and they agree to stay away from one another in the future.” “Him apologise?” The woman practically shrieked. “She punched him, if anything she’s the one that should be saying sorry.” Steve gave a huff of a laugh “I can assure you that won’t be happening. Besides,” he turned to the boy, “do you really want an apology from a ‘fucking orphan rat’?”

He heard a snigger followed by a mumble of “mic drop…” to his right and turned to see Brooke was still there.

“What are-” he shot her a look, pointing towards the class rooms, “-scoot.” “Later Mr R.” Brooke shot him a salute and he raised an eyebrow as she headed off back to wherever she should have been in the first place.

“Did you say that?” The woman had rounded on her son.

“No…I swear.” “He said he didn’t.” Steve shook his head, his hands dropping to the buckle of his belt. “I’m not interested in whether he admits it or not. Fact of the matter is I believe my daughter and according to her and her friend, Emmy isn’t the first kid he’s picked on but I’m sure as hell hoping she’s gonna be the last, especially now he’s had a punch in the face to make him consider the consequences of his actions.” His lips quirked a little at the side as he delivered his final line. “I’d hate for him to get antoher.” “How dare you threaten him?” The woman was now talking in that high a pitch it was making Steve’s ears hurt.

“That isn’t a threat.” Steve shook his head “Merely an observation. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He turned to the door when the woman spluttered after him “You know, we do know where you live. That big, fancy house in Clinton Hill.” “Then by all means feel free to call round later.” Steve laughed as he turned to grin at the woman of her shoulder. “But I really don’t fancy your chances against my wife.” ****** “He said WHAT?” Katie spluttered once Steve had explained what had gone on. “The little fucking shit!” “His mother wasn’t much better either.” Steve shook his head as he raised Jamie up higher in the air above him, the tot screaming with laughter. “She threatened to come round later.” “I’ll kick her fucking ass!” Katie folded her arms across her chest and a wry smile crossed Steve’s face as he brought Jamie back down to his chest.

“Yeah I told her I didn’t fancy her chances.”

“Where’s Emmy now?” Katie asked.

“In her room, she said she wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Katie pondered for a moment, before she moved and walked out of the kitchen, calling up the stairs, “Emmy? Can you come down for a minute please?”

Katie came back into the kitchen and it wasn’t long before Emmy appeared, her eyes red. Katie sighed and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I just, ” Emmy sniffed. “He was so rude and…” “Sweetie, we’re not mad.” Katie shook her head, steering the girl across the hall “We just want to talk to you, about what he said,” she gestured at one of the seats by the breakfast bar, “sit.”

Emmy did as she was told and Steve placed Jamie in the pack and play at the corner of the room. There was a minute or so silence before Katie slid a mug of hot chocolate, containing marshmallows and cream across the counter to Emmy, then passed Steve a coffee, picking up her own drink before she rounded the counter and sat on a stool next to Emmy, Steve staying where he was, the base of his back leaning against the worktop opposite them.

“So your dad told me what happened.” Katie began “And we want to talk to you about what that little jerk said to you.”

“I shouldn’t have let him get to me.” Emmy shrugged “I know what he was saying was crap but…” “If your dad had a dollar for every time he had reacted to something he shouldn’t have done he’d be richer than Tony.” Katie smiled and Steve gave a scoff.

“You’re a fine one to talk.” He raised an eyebrow at his wife and she grinned.

“And as for throwing you out once you’re old enough,” Katie shook her head, “you’re with us for as long as you wanna be. And then even when you don’t want to be, and you move out, we’ll be keeping tabs on you, annoying you, like Tony does to me.”

Emmy smiled and wiped at her eyes.

“You said he’s been picking on you for a while?” Steve asked “What made you snap today?” Emmy shrugged “I guess I was just fed up with it and when he was laughing about my name on my test paper, and he called me an orphan rat I saw red.” Katie took a deep breath, she was furious but before she could say anything Steve spoke, a frown creasing his brow.

“What do you mean he was laughing at your name?” “My surname.” Emmy shrugged “On stuff like the register and things at school its Rogers but on my official test papers for my grades it has to be McKellen, because Rogers isn’t my real name. And he was laughing saying that I didn’t belong anywhere.” Steve and Katie locked eyes and Steve was the first one to break away.

“Does it bother you, that your name isn’t Rogers?”

“Not normally.” She shrugged

“What if we made it so?” Katie asked.

“What, like change it legally?” “That’s one way of doing it.” Steve shrugged.  “The other is we adopt you.” Katie looked at her husband and smiled. This was something they’d mentioned in passing to one another a few times but never really talked about in any detail as, well, to them things were fine as they were. But now, well, it just felt right. The next step for them all. Making her status as their daughter official.

“Adopt me?” Emmy’s voice was a whisper.

“Yeah.” Katie nodded. “Look, Em, as far as we’re concerned you’re already our daughter, and not just a foster one either. It’s merely a formality. But it’s up to you.” “Do you want to think about it?” Steve asked.

“No.” Emmy shook her head as she looked up tears in her eyes. “No, I don’t want to think about it. I’d love it, I really would.” Katie smiled as the girl threw her arms round her shoulders and began to sob. Steve put his mug down on the counter next to him and strode round to wrap his large arms around both his girls until a loud screech form the corner of the room made them all look up. Jamie was stood gripping the side of his play pen, clearly disgruntled at being left out of the hug.

“Alright pal, point taken.” Steve picked him up and carried him back to where Emmy was now wiping her eyes. He handed the tot to his older sister and Katie grinned.

“Family hug?” She opened her arms and Emmy laughed, as the four of them snuggled together in a huddle.

*****

March 2021

Despite Steve’s best attempts to ignore it, there was something in what that little shit had said to Emmy that had really bothered him.  The Avengers fucked up. It wasn’t an alien thought, he often found himself thinking back to how they had failed but he normally shook himself out of it. They’d done the best they could, they simply hadn’t stood a chance.

The thing was, not all of the public saw that. On more than one occasion the remaining Avengers had all experienced some kind of vitriol from the public, Natasha still receiving hate mail for them all at the compound. Whilst people he met understood, it was always the ones that didn’t which stuck in Steve’s mind, but he’d never had anything more than the odd whispered insult or dirty look come his way, that was until a few day’s after Jamie’s first birthday.

He was in the store with Emmy, picking up a few bits and pieces for the family gathering they were having to celebrate Jamie turning one and he could feel someone’s eyes on him, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual, however, was the tap on the shoulder her received as he tossed a few items from the list Katie had given him into the trolley.

“I thought it was you.”

Steve turned to see a dark haired man, the same height as him looking back.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked politely.

The man snorted “I thought at one point, yeah, but you didn’t, this…us…what the world is now, it’s all your fault.” Steve took a deep breath, and spotted Emmy returning to the aisle he was in with an armful of snacks he had sent her for.

“Sir-” Steve began, trying to placate the man but before he could do anything the guy had punched him straight in the face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but Steve hadn’t been expecting it. Or the subsequent blows for that matter.

He was vaguely aware Emmy was screaming, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a security guard hurrying towards him. Before he reached them, Emmy had kicked the man hard in the shin and was shouting at him, as he hopped on his good leg. Steve doubled over, the ringing in his ears subsiding as he pinched at his nose which was streaming blood.

“Oh my God.” A female voice said “Billy, what…” she looked up at Steve and paled “Captain, oh God, I’m so sorry…he’s…” Steve waved away another member of the public who had come to help, insisting he was fine. Taking a deep breath he looked up and saw the man was now crying, his head buried into his wife’s shoulders.

“We…we lost our son.” The lady continued, with a choked voice. “He hasn’t dealt with it so well.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve bowed his head, it was all he could think to say.

“It isn’t you fault” The lady shook her head. “And he doesn’t think that, not really, it’s just we never got a proper explanation, you know, bar official government statements. No real help to come to terms with anything.” “That doesn’t mean he can just punch the crap outta my dad!” Emmy blazed, indignantly and Steve lay a hand on her shoulder. “Emmy.” He shook his head gently before he turned to the woman. “I’m sorry that no one was there for you and I’m sorry that we couldn’t do more. But we tried.” The last three words were almost a plea to her, trying to make her understand they had tried, boy did they try. She cast him another sad look before she led her husband away.

“You ok?” Steve looked down at his daughter.

“Me?” She frowned “What about you?” “Had worse.” Steve mumbled, gently touching his nose “Let’s get out stuff and get home before it starts to set. I don’t fancy having to re-break it.”

**** Katie was sat smiling as Natasha was holding Jamie up, his hands curled round her fingers as she guided him round the living room.

“Won’t be long until he’s doing this himself.” The red head smiled, and Katie grinned.

“He’s growing so fast.” 

“Think you’ll have another?” Nat looked at her.

Katie shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, Steve would have a football team full if I let him but, who knows.”

Nat smiled and Katie’s attention turned back to her son who was toddling in front of his Auntie. He was looking more and more like his father each day and was now a substantial little chunk who was pretty strong and robust too. Small bumps and knocks didn’t seem to phase him at all, and the other day he’d been playing with a tonka truck and had fallen onto it, flattening it completely. He’d screamed blue murder, more over the fact his toy was broken than he had been hurt, but it had made both his parents realise that he was definitely half Super Soldier and wasn’t inheriting any of Steve’s pre-serum ailments, much to Steve’s relief.

Their attention was taken as all three of them heard the car pull up the gravel drive and Jamie gave an excited giggle and started moving his legs even faster at the sound, understanding it to mean his father was back. Smiling to herself, Katie watched as he giggled and started trying to run to the door, and when it opened she looked up fully expecting Steve to grin and swoop his boy up into his arms, except what greeted her made her hand fly up to her mouth. His shirt was covered with blood and his nose was out of shape.

“Shit.” Katie stood up and headed straight to him, gently reaching up to slide a finger to his face, tilting it so she could see. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine sweetheart” he said gently.

“What the hell happened?” Nat asked as she picked Jamie up, who was still squirming to get to his father, completely nonplussed by what was going on.

“Some guy in the store punched him.” Emmy explained, and Katie looked at her daughter, whose eyes were swollen, she’d been crying.

“What? Why?” she frowned. “Em, can you grab me an ice pack out the freezer?” Steve asked before she could answer, she was upset enough as it was and he didn’t want her seeing or hearing what was coming next. She nodded and headed off.

“Steve.” Katie watched as he sat down on the sofa, shaking his head.

“Just reset it before it starts to heal anymore.” He grumbled. “Quickly before she gets back.”

Katie sat next to him and reached out gently. He grit his teeth as she snapped his nose back into place. Across the room Nat flinched at the crunching noise it made.

“Fuck.” Steve cursed softly before laying his head back against the cushions of the couch steadying his breathing as his eyes began to water from the pain. He knew it would heal quickly but that didn’t stop it hurting like hell.

“You gonna tell us what happened?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“Some guy at the store recognised me and started screaming that it was all our fault, the Snap, and hit me.”

“Must have been a pretty hard swing.” Nat said gently, bouncing Jamie up and down, distracting him with the Cap teddy bear she had grabbed off the floor. Jamie grinned at the bear and grabbed it, sticking the ear of it into his mouth.

“He didn’t just hit you once, Dad.” Emmy said gently as she returned, passing him the ice pack.

“How many times was it?” Katie frowned.

“Four ,maybe.” he shrugged

“Try Six” Emmy muttered.

“Six?!” Katie’s voice grew loud

“And you just let him?” Nat’s snorted. “What else could I do Nat?” Steve sighed, “I couldn’t hit him back…” “Yes, you damned well could!” Katie seethed. “Fuck!”

“Language.” Steve chastised playfully. “Besides, wasn’t really going to hit him once Em had kicked him in the shin.”

“You kicked him?” Katie looked at Emmy who shrugged.

“He was screaming and punching so I kicked him, real hard, and then told him that he was an asshole, and everyone had lost, and that he should try fighting Thanos in a field in Wakanda himself if he could do any better…” “Then the guy’s wife appeared.” Steve sighed, pressing the ice pack to his face.

“Yeah, she was nice.” Emmy nodded. “Said they had lost their son and she was so sorry.” “But they’d never really had a chance to ask questions or had an explanation other than what the Government had said.” Steve’s voice was muffled slightly from the pack. “But it got me thinking in the car about how many other people out there like that.” “So we had an idea.” Emmy nodded “Support groups.” “Support groups?” Katie frowned.

“Yeah, we have them at school.” Emmy said “Somewhere for people to go and talk about their issues and feelings.” “That’s actually not a bad idea.” Nat mused and Steve nodded.

“I know. Surprised we didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Well we’ve had other things on our minds.” Katie popped a shoulder, gently.

“I’m gonna help.” Emmy smiled. “We’re gonna brainstorm ideas later after the party.”

“Yeah, on that, do me a favour and no one mention this to Tony when he gets here.” Steve groaned as he stood up, ice pack still on his nose. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

Leaving Emmy to watch Jamie, Nat and Katie unloaded the car and took the supplies to the kitchen. Steve showered quickly and came back to help them, and it wasn’t long before the food was sorted, Katie’s ability to cook how easily she did never ceased to amaze Steve. Before long the gang arrived and Morgan toddled in, holding Tony’s hand before he let go and she bee-lined for Emmy who was sat on the living room floor where she had been sat looking at a book with Jamie.

“Hey Moo!” Emmy grinned at the younger girl who sat with a soft thud next to her, leaning into her older cousin for a hug.

Tony watched them for a short while before he asked if Emmy was okay and then headed into the kitchen to find Pepper already clutching a glass of champagne. Katie handed him a beer as she pulled him into a hug and he shook Steve’s hand.

“You’re in the same room as usual.” Katie looked at him. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted Moo in with you guys or not so there’s the travel cot in there or she can have the room over from you…” “She can stay with us.” Tony nodded, taking a pull from his beer.

“Where is she?”  Natasha asked.

“With Emmy. She adores that kid.”

“Have you told her the paperwork has been finalised?” Pepper asked looking at Katie and Steve who both shook their head.

“No, we’re gonna surprise her with that later.” Katie smiled.

“We got her a little something.” Tony swallowed his beer. “You know, just to welcome her officially to the mad house.” “What is it?” Steve asked suspiciously.

“Nothing Iron Man or Tony Stark related.” Pepper looked at Steve. “I promise.” Tony shrugged. “Spoil sport.” The five adults all headed into the large living room, Jamie grinned up at his uncle and crawled over to him. Tony swung him up in the air and smiled, that is until Jamie head-butted him by accident.

“Oww…shhhhhhhhugar!” The billionaire corrected his curse before wincing. “Man, Rogers, this kid has your knuckle head.” Steve smirked. “He’s still half Stark.”

“Mind you, you should be grateful he doesn’t take after his mom. She was a horror.” “Was not.” Katie shot back indignantly. “Kiddo, you were a pain in the ass.” Tony sniggered. “You stuck bread in the VCR. Dad hit the roof.” “I thought it was a toaster.” Katie shrugged as the room laughed. “Mind you, not like we have to worry about that now seeing as VCRs went out in the stone age.” “Was that an age joke?” Tony smirked. “Do I have to respond with one about your husband or…” Steve rolled his eyes “Go ahead, be original.” “You know you’re almost as sarcastic as she is now.” Nat but in, pointing at Katie who grinned before she looked at Tony.

“You remember what dad used to say?”

“Sarcasm is a measure of potential,” Tony imitated their father’s voice. “And if that’s true…” “You’ll be a great man someday.” Katie finished, the two of them laughing.

Despite the crappy start to the day, it was a nice afternoon surrounded by their family. They drank, ate and eventually it was time for the cake which Katie and Steve were excited about, for good reason. Katie placed it down on the coffee table in the middle of the lounge, complete with candles. For the first time the group got a look at it, and Steve heard Emmy gasp. Half the large cake was iced in blue, the other half was lilac and across the top the word ‘Happy’ spanned both halves, before the next line read birth on the blue side and adoption on the other, before the word day sat underneath.

Emmy glanced up at her parents, her eyes filling with tears. “You mean…” Steve grinned and handed her the envelope he’d retrieved from the kitchen, which she took in shaking hands. “Signed, sealed, done. You’re officially a Rogers, Em.”

“Poor thing.” Tony mumbled, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Natasha.

Together the Rogers’ children blew out their candles (well, Katie blowing Jamie’s out on his behalf before the boy could grab one of them and burn himself) and then Emmy turned to look at Steve and Katie before throwing herself forwards, her arms round both their waists. Steve’s arm fell to her back and he pressed a kiss to Katie’s cheek before Tony stepped forward and handed Emmy a small gift bag.

“It’s just a little something.” He smiled. “Just to say welcome to the family, officially we mean, because you’re already part of the…” He rolled his eyes as Emmy blinked up at him. “Just take it, kid.”

Emmy took the bag and opened it, her eyes widening as she looked at the box, emblazoned with the word Pandora. Katie peered down as Emmy opened it and smiled at the charm bracelet which was inside. It held charms, the letters EJR for her initials, Emily Jayne Rogers.

“Thank you.” She whispered before she gave Tony a hug, then Pepper. She stepped back and turned around, her eyes brimming with tears. “This is the best day ever!”

And despite the shitty start to it in the store, Steve was inclined to agree it hadn’t been that bad at all.

Chapter 47

 **Original Posting**

[liathgray]

Ranking fmab characters worst to best

(Please don’t take this seriously)

1. Khymbleigh

- Lives in the sewers

- Committed mass murder

- Has a silly idiot hat

- Called me a dyke :(

2. Shou Tucker

- fuck this guy.

- Electric chair

- Also hes balding what a loser

3. Dwarf in the Bong

- mike wazoski lookin ass

- Literally the greasiest motherfucker on the planet

- Was one of the only characters introduced by NOT beating up Ed or Al..??

- Smells like rotten cabbage

4. Moy Rustang

- Incel

- Has stupid hair

- War criminal

- Teen dad

- Canon fat tits

- Useless🥰

5. Envy

- a bitch

6. Whorehenheim

- deadbeat

- Has never taken a shower in his life

- Only wears glasses because he thinks its quirky and cute

- Took the fattest bong rip of all time

- Also killed thousands

7. Tim Marcoh

- doctor and deserted the military

- honestly pretty chill

- But his name is Tim so... *cocks gun*

8. Bradley

- :/

- Killed a lesbian and thus is homophobic

- He wears an eyepatch despite having both eyes.

9. Elicia and Gracia Hughes

- tax evaders

10. Jean Havoc

- cool dude

- Cohntry boyy i luv youuu

- Did not look respectfully

- Smokes. Must be executed

11. Gluttony, pride and Sloth

- assholes but also what the fuck

- This boy like 10

- Wheres his babysitter

- fast????????

12. Armstrong

- his arms are strong

- Lil bitch

- Got his ass beat my his hot lesbian sister

13. Lust

- is sexy

- Murderer :(

- Big tibbies so she gets extra points

- She was just checking if roy and havoc were cake

14. Scar’s brother

- Truth took his cock.

15. Truth

- took Scar’s brother’s cock

16. Barry the chopper & the slicer

- criminals

- Almost killed Ed and Al

- Kinda sexy tho 😳

17. Greed (OG)

- greasy garbage man

- Got cucked after two eps

- Has dumb hair

- Was funny

18. Yoki

- He yo the ki or whatever

- I dont remember him

19. Fu and Lan Fan

- Legs for days!!!

- Breaking and entering

- Lan fan smugly cutting off her arm and saying “I beat you” awakened something in me

- Fu got shanked :(

20. Rose Thomas

- Maybe im gay. What of it?

- Almost shot Ed lmaooo

- Probably owns a ukulele

- Local

21. Greed 2.0

- stupid

- Beats the fuck out of Bradley

- Might’ve eaten dirt

- Went camping for five months instead of being helpful

- Aphobe :/

22. Ling

- freeloader

- Diabetic??????

- Smells like broke

- Gay little bitch boy

23. Sheska

- haha nerd

- I’m in love with you

- Was only in two episodes :(

24. Captain Buccaneer

- Off his shits always

- Took ten years to die lmfaooo

- MLM but a gatekeeper

25. Major Miles

- His facial hair is atrocious

- Otherwise? King

- Sunglasses indoors... ur on thin ice

- Turn around bright eyes...

26. Father Cornello

- So theres this middle aged man...

- Won the sexiest character poll on twitter

- Re🤢🤢 l🤢🤢. r-r-religous🤢🤢🤢c-cor🤮🤮 religious corruption

- Got gunched lol

26. Kain Fuery

- Has watched pulp fiction

- Haha glasses

- Probably volunteers at a animal shelter

27. Vato falman

- Skinny legend

- Genuinely cool and has development at briggs

- Go white boy go

28. Heymans Breda

- Has a moped

- Could crush my spine but wouldnt ❤️

- Crew cut 🤢🤢

29. Xiao Mei

- small and filled with rage

- Has good taste

- Gunch??????

- Literally so small please be careful

30. Gay chimeras

- TWO MEN

- WE’RE BURLY

- WE’LL DO WHAT YOU WANT

- cottagecore

31. Pinako Rockbell

- has been high off her ass for the past three years

- Sultry doctor who lives in a faraway town 😳😳😳 hello ma’am 😳

- Hair is definitely a weapon. Shits pointy

- Home wrecker

32. Sig

- wide

- Very wide

- Kiss kiss

- Only eats potatoes

33. Riza Hawkeye

- big arms big arms big arms biG ARMS BIG ARMS

- Would kill roy on sight

- she should kiss me

- rn

34. Maes Hughes

- had a band in highschool named frog soda or some shit like that

- Pretty cool! Nice to ed and al and winry

- Good dad

- Dead lol

35. Olivier Armstrong

- goth gf

- Sword.... sword hot.....

- Killed a dude for being annoying and I respect that

- Snorts snow and says its coke to freak people out

- Gay ass....

36. Ed Elric

- ok gay boy

- Makes everyones life hell. Good for him

- NERD????? A FUCKING NERD???

- I’d steal his lunch money

- No tiddies?

- :/

- Short king

37. Maria Ross and Denny Brosh

- wlw mlm solidarity

- maria ... hold my h-hand...

- literally had nothing to do with this but got McFcuked anyways

38. Scar

- acab

- Was right

- Dilf

39. Al Elric

- likes cats so he’s automatically superior

- Malnourished 😔✌️

- Cha cha slide in full armour

- Mean but only to Ed ❤️

- I love when he *king noises*

40. Izumi Curtis

- kiss me sexy woman

- Stole from briggs because fuck the military

- .. m...milf..

41. Paninya

- fucking superb you funky little lesbian

42. Winry Rockbell

- NERD!!! NERD !!

- Curb stomps her enemies

- Acab but also stole Riza’s look so 😳

- Is she.. u kno💅

43. Mei Chang

- her life is a YA drama

- gained a dad by being perfect

- bullies Ed

- is better than everyone

And finally..... the best character in fmab...

Resurrected Trisha

- 😳😳😳

- Yes i do the cookin yes i do the cleanin

- 😩😩😩

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {19}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: So, uh, next chapter is the last chapter...

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Gavriel’s hand hit the sergeant’s desk with a thump. 

“We need to know where she is, and we need to know where she is, now.” 

“I have no information,” Sergeant Nazari said, through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you as much ten times now, I don’t know when it’ll get through your head.”

Sergeant Nazari had been on the Cadre’s payroll for the past five years. He’d been incredibly helpful through the years, had saved all of their asses a million times, but in this particular situation, Gavriel was about to lose his shit. 

He opened his mouth, prepared to scream at the man on the other side of the desk, but Vaughan’s hand gently rested on his shoulder.

Vaughan was right.

Nazari had never lied to them before. He was loyal.

If he was saying he didn’t know where Maeve was, he really didn’t know where she was. 

“Fine,” Gavriel breathed. “If you find anything out-.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Sergeant Nazari promised. 

With a nod, Gavriel and Vaughan exited the station, pulling out their cigarette cases the moment they stepped out into the street. 

“I don’t get it,” Gavriel began, shaking his head. “Someone in this damned city has to know where Maeve has holed herself up.”

He met Vaughan’s weary gaze. 

“I know,” Gavriel sighed. “We’re running out of time.”

Vaughan nodded his agreement, his shoulders slumping, but his pace remaining steady as they walked back to their horses. After they mounted their saddles, they were hurrying out of town, back toward the estate. 

When they returned, Rhoe and his men were standing outside, smoking, a worried Lysandra pacing in front of them.

“News?” Gavriel asked, before he even hopped off his horse. 

Before anyone could answer, a car came speeding up the dirt drive, and Fenrys had the door open before Lorcan had it parked. 

“They’re at the old Cartwright Manor!” he yelled, chest heaving, as if they’d been hurrying. Which, with such information, they should have been. “Since Cartwright died last year, it’s been uninhabited.” 

The Cartwright Manor was only a few miles west. 

“Let’s go,” Gavriel said, readying to mount his horse, yet again.

“We need a plan,” Lorcan said, turning off the engine.

“Like hell we do!” Gavriel yelled. “We’re running out of time!”

“And if we go in there with no plan and create chaos, we’re all going to fucking die!” Lorcan replied, slamming his door shut behind him. 

Gavriel knew that Lorcan was right, but it still pissed him off to admit it. “Then what, pray tell, is the plan?” 

Lorcan ignored Gavriel’s sarcastic comment. “I don’t fucking know, but I know we need one.” 

“Before we all start fighting, because that’s where I see this is headed,” Fenrys began, stepping between them. “I have an idea.”

All eyes landed on him. 

“I went to the Cartwright Manor, often, as a kid, Con and I,” he began. “I know the layout pretty well.”

“Why?” Gavriel asked, curiously.

“Is that information necessary right now?” Lorcan muttered. 

“Our father was good friends with Mr. Cartwright,” Fenrys answered, plainly. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. There’s this creepy, narrow old tunnel beneath the kitchens, I assume they’re probably being held there. Con and I used to joke that that’s where old Cartwright took his prisoners. Through the servant’s entrance, just to the left, there’s a door. Most mistake it as a coat closet, but it’s a staircase that will lead you downstairs.”

Lorcan nodded, slowly. “We have no idea how many of Maeve’s men are there.”

“True,” Fenrys agreed, and nodded to Rhoe and his men. “But we have them, and plenty of ammunition.” 

“So, what?” Gavriel asked. “We break through the servant’s entrance and start shooting?”

Fenrys blinked, shrugging. “Do you have a better idea?” 

Gavriel blew a puff of smoke into the air.

No.

No he didn’t.

“We’re all going to die,” Lorcan muttered. 

From there, no one said a word. Maybe Lorcan was right, maybe they’d all get shot, maybe Maeve’s men would completely overpower them and everything leading up to this point would be all for nothing. 

Elide’s death.

Connall’s death.

Every night they had laid awake, unsure of their futures. 

Every anxious day, every agonizing hour, every trip to the hospital or sighting of blood.

But they wouldn’t leave Aelin there, wouldn’t leave Rowan there.

He was their leader.

So Gavriel tossed his cigarette into the dirt and stepped on it. “Let’s reload.”

~~~~~

Rowan had always hated Maeve.

When he was younger, he used to have nightmares of Maeve as an old witch who lived deep in the woods, eating children, like the one from Hansel and Gretel. As he grew older, he felt foolish for ever feeling such a thing, but now, he was right back to imagining her as his living nightmare. 

His head hurt, dominantly from the gash on the side of his head. His vision was blurred, blood trailing down his chin. He was fairly certain he had lost a tooth.

Or two. 

He could deal with teeth, though. It was the least of what he was about to lose. 

Although he had no idea what time it was, he had caught glimpses of the sun high in the sky as he was dragged out of his room with Aelin and brought into a different one. She had cried, screamed as they took him, but he had told her that he loved her, that he would see her soon.

Even though he had no way of knowing if that were true. 

He was tied to a chair, weak, weaponless, waiting. 

The walls around him were covered in wallpaper, although the windows had been boarded up. He was somewhere upstairs, somewhere in the main living area. There was an oil lamp on a small table not far from him, but aside from that and his chair, the room was empty.

And the old, Persian rug beneath his feet.

The rug that was splattered with his blood.

He groaned, just wanting it all to be over. Everything had gone on for too long, and he was over it, done. 

Waiting was the worst part, and all he had been doing for months now was waiting. 

He could hear her slow, steady footsteps before she appeared in the doorway. 

“Hello, nephew,” she crooned, meandering inside until she was standing only a few feet in front of him. 

“Where’s Aelin?” he asked, although his swollen lips had trouble moving. 

“Does it matter?” Maeve asked, shrugging. “Wouldn’t stop crying, though. Had to muffle those sobs before I went insane.”

She cocked her head, her eyes glowing.

She had gone insane long ago. 

“She goes home.” 

Maeve watched him for a moment in silence before a humorless laugh shook her petite frame. “Are you bargaining with me?”

“Let her go home,” Rowan repeated. “Her, and the baby. Let them go home, safely, and I’ll do whatever you want without a fight.” 

The room fell into silence, Rowan’s declaration, his promise, echoing in the minimal space. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re delusional,” Maeve said, slowly. 

“Aelin,” he repeated, a growl underlying his tone. “Gets to go, unharmed.”

“You’ve repeated that, over and over again,” Maeve said, her pretentious grin disappearing. “It’s growing old.” 

“Then agree,” Rowan snapped.

“You see, this is where you’re mistaken,” Maeve began, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’re not in the place to make a bargain. Either way, you die, and Aelin’s safety means nothing to me.” 

“Surely you don’t hate me that much,” Rowan said, meeting her gaze. “Let Aelin go free. Please.”

Please. He was sincere when he said it, a word he had never used sincerely with his aunt before. If he wasn’t tied up to a chair, he would be down on his knees, begging, pleading. 

Maeve watched him for a long moment, the room going back into silence. Rowan could hear her men walking around downstairs, their boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. 

With every step he heard, his heart beat a little faster.

“Maeve,” he growled, when the silence became too unbearable. 

Her eyes darkened as her lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Aelin has already been….released.” 

There were a lot of different words Maeve could have chosen, but released was one that confused Rowan, pissed him off. 

It was a word that could mean so many different things, but every meaning Rowan thought of only made him feel sick to his stomach.

His jaw locked. “Where is she?” 

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

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[cherrybombusa]

GROUP THREE  - THE FINALE.

PLAYERS:

THE WANNABE - Virginia Ann Virginia. THE BITCH - Zahra Jackson. THE REPORTER - Clarissa Teller.

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

-The Intrepid Reporter, Clarissa Teller stood in for one of the Gang! She now has firsthand knowledge of the Candy Girl.  The Gang chose luck, and passed! They gained extra hints on their puzzle due to their success.  -The Gang used all three tries on their puzzle, and succeeded.  -Zahra chased the Candy Girl.  -The Gang ran away from Dean Hargrove when he confronted them - this will come back to bite them later. 

The kissing booth had been a successful venture for the lifeguards every year, but with Virginia Virginia at the helm of the booth this year, the sunscreen fund was far from suffering. She was helping to count the money when a little note fell out of one of the stacks of cash. What it said? “MEET ME BACKSTAGE AT 7:30 SHARP, OR I SPILL YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET. SEE YOU SOON!” @virginiacherries

Zahra had spent most of the day on Roller Coaster Row along with the rest of the Boardwalk’s patrons, but now that the day was winding down to a close - and the Coasters were taking a break to draw the crowd down to the stage - she’d better go find her friends. It probably would have been difficult had she been on her own in the endeavor, but like a miracle worker, a Boardwalk worker shows up and tells her that Rory has been looking for her. Apparently her cousin is backstage waiting for her. Huh. She must be with the band -- and Zahra better hurry to get there before the ribbon cutting starts. @zahrajackson

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your last year all together in high school, and just… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? 

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, hanging out in the wings of the Main Stage, might not be so pleasant. It had only been a week ago that Virginia was drugged in Harvey’s basement, after all. Playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic, baring their souls - and their tongues - to each other. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it? And the fact that Clarissa could just tell something was up with the little group definitely didn't help.

Still, the three of them made their polite-ish, familiar conversation. Zahra was wondering where Rory was - Clarissa was wondering where the heck that hunk, Harvey Hargrove was - and Virginia… Well, she was wondering where the hell this Candy Girl was.

ZAHRA: Zahra was getting a little annoyed to be honest. Going backstage would definitely not help keep her... whatever with Casey on the down low, and being caught in semi-awkward, semi-polite conversation with Virginia and Clarissa was nowhere in her day plan. The sooner she could find where the hell Rory was, the better as far as she was concerned. "Okay, let's skip to the part where we're done talking," she interrupted abruptly, clearly having been paying little attention to what was being said. "Have either of you seen Rory or can I go?"

VIRGINIA ANN: Virginia wasn't shaking in her boots just yet, but she couldn't help but feel the lump in the back of her throat when she had read that little note. So cryptic, but so telling. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to find out her dirty little secret(s) so she showed up and played nice, as much as Virginia Virginia could play nice. "Um, hello? Were you like not given a lesson in Polite 101?" Virginia quipped back, motioning between herself and Clarissa. "Do we look like we'd know where Rory is? She's probably somewhere making out with Libby." Frankly, Virginia didn't give two flying farts about where Rory was, she was just wondering about where this coveted Candy Girl was. She wasn't expecting whoever they were to show up, but there was a part of her that kept her eyes flocking between everyone. Maybe it was Zahra or Clarissa who had sent her the note. Or maybe Virginia was just letting this get under her skin a little too much.

THE NARRATOR: Clarissa is just about to question the statement - um, Rory and Libby? Hello, how had she never thought of the angle?! - their conversation is cut off by the sound of Dean Hargrove on the stage to their left, welcoming the citizens to the boardwalk, thanking them for a great day, and more; but before the man can introduce Lux’s parents who have just joined him onstage… Before he can start in on his plans to announce the renaming of the ‘Lux Lewis Memorial Carousel’, he’s cut off by a voice that none of them quite recognize… a voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL: “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?”

THE NARRATOR: At that moment, a sheet unfurls behind Dean Hargrove, and a projector that seems to have been installed into the soundbooth across from the stage flips on. The image it casts should be a shocking sight, but to our little ragtag slice of the gang, the Cherry Bomb logo is all too recognizable. The image is a blown up cover of her latest issue, and - surprise, surprise! - Lux is once again the star. 

It would have been hard not to hear the collective gasp of the crowd - to feel the tension that had pulled it’s way into the air around them - but this little slice of the gang is too focused on copy after copy of the Cherry Bomb falling from the catwalks above the mainstage to notice. Everyone is looking up, away from the sick slideshow that’s now showing crime scene photos from the night of Lux’s death - trying to get a glimpse of whoever is throwing them - but nobody can quite see who is responsible. One thing is for sure, though. Whoever they are, they’ve got Boardwalk Employee shirts on.

CANDY GIRL: “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!”

THE NARRATOR: Just as the little message is over, and the vicinity is filled with the all-too-loud sound of Cherry Bomb by the Runaways bursting their eardrums… Something slaps to the ground behind them. The three of them turn, just in time to come face to face with a figure in a black hoodie - at their feet? An issue of the Cherry Bomb.

They can’t quite tell if it’s a woman or a man; they can’t quite tell how tall they are without the help of their boots, or what the color of their hair is. The only thing distinctive enough to notice is the fucking mask that’s staring them all right back in the face; smiling like a lunatic, and sending chills down their spines.

Could this actually be her? Could it… Could it actually be the Candy Girl?

Nobody moves for a moment; a long moment. So, when the figure finally kicks a foot out to slide the magazine toward them - the issue only stopping when it hits their own shoes - they can’t help but flinch… And then again, when they take off running.

MAKE A CHOICE: WHOEVER THE HELL THAT IS - THEY’RE GETTING AWAY! DO YOU WANT TO CHASE THEM [STRENGTH], OR LET THEM GO [CALM]?

ZAHRA: Zahra's mind was moving a million miles a minute, jumping from Lux's potential murder to the copies of the Cherry Bomb raining down to frantically trying to remember when she had last seen any of the rest of the gang, to the likelihood of the person in front of her being the Candy Girl. A hundred little things were in her brain, so when she took of running after the hooded figure she wasn't even fully thinking about it. The math was simple and instinctive - whoever they were, they were involved. If they were involved, they had information. Information means one step closer to making sure she doesn't lose another member of her little found family. Not to mention that if they were involved, they were at least partial responsible for this whole clusterfuck and that could not go unpunished. Never before had she been so glad she hadn't worn heels (sandals and painted toenails were much more beach appropriate, anyway).

THE NARRATOR: Ha. The figure had been expecting them to give chase, and they fell right into the time trap. Zahra gave a good chase - ducked when they did, dove through every sudden turn they made. She was good - better than they thought she would be - but she wasn't good enough. 

It was somewhere in the crowd that figure finally managed to get the jump on her. She was being pushed in every direction - pulled by the chaos of people trying to get the hell out of the chaos - when she finally lost sight of them. What she did find, though? The supposed ‘Candy Girl’s’ mask on the ground, trampled by the onlookers, but still there... at least she had proof, right? 

So much for throwing hands. She better get back to Clarissa and Virginia.

MAKE A CHOICE: THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY FOR THEIR ACTIONS.

THE NARRATOR: Zahra's losing the masked lunatic or not - however annoyed Virginia was that she hadn't caught her - they were personally delivered a copy of the Cherry Bomb for a reason, right? The Candy Girl wouldn’t just show herself if there weren’t some grand scheme involved. 

Clarissa wants to go get her father, like, ASAP, but somehow the other two manage to convince her not to do it. They have to open the Cherry Bomb alone - they would surely get punished if they went to the police. Right?

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

  And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, and… Maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIND A KEY, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING BACKSTAGE APART? [LUCK]

VIRGINIA ANN: Virginia didn't know if it was her lack of critical thinking, Zahra running off, or the photos within the Cherry Bomb, but after the initial shock of the crime scene photos, the last thing Virginia wanted was someone to end up like Lux again. Virginia had never considered murder, she thought she had pushed Lux to the edge of her suicide but was Candy Girl right? Had Lux been murdered and if so, was this lunatic the one who was doing it? And were they planning on doing it again if the three of them didn't act fast enough? A key, Virginia could do that. She could find that. Immediately after reading the note, the blonde began tearing apart every surface she could. Tearing tarps away, moving cords, opening boxes, anything that could lead her to the puzzle piece they needed.

THE NARRATOR: It shouldn’t have worked - it definitely shouldn’t have worked! But, somehow - with the heads of Zahra, Clarissa, and Virginia on the case - the three girls actually manage to find something. It’s a Cherry red briefcase with a lock on the top; a place for a four digit code. And get this, Clarissa was looking at the note, and it turns out that it was a clue all along!

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS. YOU HAVE GAINED EXTRA HINTS FOR THE RIDDLE, AND MADE IT EASIER TO RESCUE YOUR FRIEND.

ZAHRA: Zahra enters 2134 into the lock.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN.

VIRGINIA ANN: Virginia enters 3214 into the lock.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN

CLARISSA: Clarissa rolls her eyes. "Ugh, fine! If you, like, seriously need me to be the one to put it in, then I'll do it, but don't blame me when the thing blows up!" The blonde was terrified - of course it was this gang of weirdos who got her pulled into this kind of trouble - but as she clicks '3142' into the briefcase... miraculously it clicks open. And doesn't explode. Thank god!

THE NARRATOR: Finally, the box pops open, and as promised, they’re granted a shiny little key on a ring… But along with it, they’re also given another note from the Candy Girl. Another riddle.

CANDY GIRL:  SOMEONE IS MISSING - YOU HAVE THE KEY.

BUT YOU NEED TO MORE, FROM YOUR FRIENDS, YOU SEE.

ONLY THREE WILL PLEASE THE LOCK - ONLY THREE UNLOCK THE BOX.

TWO MUST RUN, THEY MUST RETRIEV!

BUT THE ONE, MUST SCOPE THE BEACH. MISSINGS THE THEME, MISPELLED IS THE CLUE, FOR THE DIRECTION THAT YOU’LL WANT TO DO.

TO THE RUNNERS, HERE’S YOUR CLUE! LOOK FOR SOMEONE WHO HATES ONE OF YOU! BEST FRIEND OF YOUR BEST FRIEND - TWIN FLAME OF YOUR GUY. OMEONE YOU BOTH KNOW IS HIDING THEIR LIES.

THE OTHER KEY HIDES WITH THE KEEPER OF PROSE - AND MAYBE THAT ONE IS TOO ON THE NOSE. BUT IF YOU DON’T FIND HIM, NOTEBOOK AND ALL, THEN WATCH OUT, WACH OUT…

IT’S YOUR BABY THAT FALLS.

THE NARRATOR: Their hearts are pounding in their chests so loud they’re all convinced they can hear it echoing off of the walls - even over the music that’s still playing - but… Nothing could mask the sound of the Dean barking their name from behind them; Lux’s parents watching, horrified, as they pick up the copy of the Cherry Bomb that’s still laying there on the ground, where they left it. “Would any of you like to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis what the hell is going on here?” 

No, no, no! There’s no time for this. They have to solve the riddle - they have to find the keys before it’s too late. Somebody needs to get rid of the Dean… or maybe they just need to run.

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEBODY GET RID OF THE DEAN, [CHARISMA, BRAVERY, HONESTY] OR RUN! [BRAVERY, FIGHTER, SURVIVOR]

ZAHRA: Zahra didn't even register the words of the Dean. Her mind was stuck on that line - IT’S YOUR BABY THAT FALLS. Icy fear filled her at the implications - this was Rory they were working to save. With those five words the Candy Girl had reached into her heart and wrapped a hand around it, threatening to rip it out entirely. They didn't have time to hesitate or explain - not with Rory on the line. Fuck. Fuckity fucking fuck. The Dean's voice was a faded muffle, drowned out by her pounding heart as she looked at Virginia and Clarissa. Her eyes had narrowed and her hands had curled into fists, crushing the second note with the force of her anger, panic, and pure terror. "We're running," she said simply, determination and fear both audible in her tone. And, for the second time that day, she took off as fast she could, holding onto that note and the hope that they'd solved the riddle correctly.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS. EVERYONE MUST RUN! SPLIT UP. FIND THE CORRECT FRIENDS. RUN THE CORRECT DIRECTION ON THE BEACH. IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO WIN. EVERYONE RESPOND. [STRENGTH, BRAVERY, OR FIGHTER]

CLARISSA: Clarissa thinks it's a bad idea to leave her to run for the keys... and then all the way back to the beach. Like, did they think she was Superwoman, or something? But if this Candy Girl was really as sinister as she seemed to be - well, Rissa couldn't exactly let Rory Collins, like, die on the beach, could she? Besides the fact that her Dad would be pissed at her, even she had to admit it would totally hang onto her conscience until she bit the dust too. So with a groan, she just takes off toward wherever the hell Noah is and hopes that he has this dumb key. He better. She didn't want to be seen talking to Noah Russell, for like. Any other reason.

MAKE A CHOICE: CLARISSA WAS SUCCESSFUL. SHE MUST GET TO THE BEACH.

VIRGINIA ANN: As soon as Zahra said that they were running, it took no time for Virginia's feet to start going. There wasn't much going on in her brain, but it didn't take a genius to deduce that Zahra would be the one going after Rory and that it would be Virginia and Clarissa getting the keys. With her legs moving as quickly as she possibly could, Virginia hunted for Libby who she hoped would have a key for her. It's not like she wanted to go to another funeral before her 19th birthday.

MAKE A CHOICE: VIRGINIA WAS SUCCESSFUL. SHE MUST GET TO THE BEACH.

ZAHRA: Zahra ran as fast as she could, for once uncaring about keeping her hair perfect or her clothes pristine. She just ran west, heading for the beach. Her legs burned with exertion but the adrenaline had well and truly kicked in. Losing Rory was unacceptable - especially so soon after Lux. Especially not when she was here this time, actually able to do something.

VIRGINIA ANN: After getting the key from Libby, Virginia prayed to the stolen Louis Vuitton bag in her possession that she had gotten everything in time. With a huff, she took off in the direction of the beach, her legs pumping more than she ever thought they could. If there was a list of things Virginia was grateful for it'd be that stolen bag and the years of cheer conditioning that prepped her for a true life-or-death moment.

CLARISSA: Yikes. So, apparently the little group had been through more hell than she thought. She had retrieved the key from Noah, and along with it she had gotten a sneak peek at another little piece of the gang that had been tormented over the last half hour. Had it really only been a half hour? Christ.

She had to stop thinking about it, though - she had to stop thinking about how much she wished she had actually stuck to her cardio, like she had insisted she would over New Years - and keep pushing. She wouldn't let Rory Collins die. The Lux news cycle was barely even over!

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS... KIND OF.

THE NARRATOR: Zahra scopes the beach far and wide, it’s an exhaustive effort, but after a mighty search, they finally spot it. The tide has been coming in - barely the top is visible… and it’s filling with water fast. She could already be gone. They sprint toward it with all of their might - they pray that she’s still breathing in her little prison… But is she? 

MAKE A CHOICE: UNLOCK THE BOX.

ZAHRA: Zahra had never been as grateful for Virginia, Clarissa, or several years of competitive commitment to cheer as she was right now. Maybe this was the first time she'd been truly grateful for Virginia in, like, ever. She'd never admit it, but her hands were shaking as she fit the keys into the locks, holding them a little too tight to make sure there was no chance of dropping them and having them be washed away by the tide. With her heart in her throat, she unlocked the locks one by one, threw the box open, and pulled her cousin out into her arms.

RORY:  Rory wasn’t sure how long she had been locked in here. Her throat was raw from screaming for help, from crying between shouting. No one seemed to be coming. At that realization, she’d curled up as small as she could in the claustrophobic little box, with her arms wrapped tight around her ears as she tried to block out the sound of the waves that were so nearby. Too close for comfort. 

If those people with the masks came back - god, she wished they would just come back - she wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. Not that it had helped when they grabbed her. Rough hands yanking her into the dark. 

Her hands was sore from throwing herself against the top, trying with everything she had to break through. After a while, she’d given up on that, certain that an ugly bruise was already blooming on both palms. She promised herself she’d keep trying anyway if no one came in the next few hours. Surely someone would realize she was gone soon, wouldn’t they?

God knows how long it had already been. At least 3 hours - maybe more. Maybe a lot more. Rory wished she had a watch. Or a light. For the first time, she wished she was more addicted to the cigs she occasionally bummed off of others. At least a lighter’s meager flame would have offered some comfort in the pitch black box. Rory couldn’t even see her hand when she held it in front of her face.

She hated the dark. Hated it. She hated the water more… so when she started to hear the sound of those waves, crashing up against the walls of her tiny prison? When she began to feel her clothes getting wet, and smelling the salty foam in her nose? When what little air she had became a crack in the corner of the box, and when she got so tired that she began sputtering on water? 

Rory was going to die here, wasn’t she?

The sound of someone running on the beach - someone shouting her name - jarred her from her spiraling thoughts. It pulled her from the haze of near-death, and giving up. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, and pounded on the top of the box with her hands. “HELLO? LET ME OUT OF HERE!” She shrieked, her voice sounding hoarse even to her own ears. Her thoughts tripped over one another as hope flooded her brain. They came- they came and they got her, her friends -

As soon as the top of the box started to crack, she bolted through the opening and threw her arms around the first person she saw in a death-grip hug. She was shaking, tears spilling down her cheeks, and unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh my god you came, you guys came,” before her throat was too tight to speak anymore.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE SAVED RORY AND SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED YOUR PLOT EVENT.

[siriuslyshewrote]

5AM - Finn Shelby x Reader

Requested by @violetsdicaprio “Okay so, can I request a Finn Shelby fic where he uses the prompt “you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Maybe Season 4 when Changretta is there and he has ordered an attack on the reader maybe because she found out something, like she overheard something in a bar?” Hope you enjoy it love xx

We run into a dark room, And we spasm to the sounds

You shouldn’t even have been at that bar in the first place, You should have been at a Shelby family meeting (something which you had been introduced to a few months ago, when Finn and yourself had gotten engaged,), but for the first time, you blew it off. That was what bugged you afterwards, and if you could communicate with your past self, you would scream not to agree to a night out with your sister and her husband. But you did. You were excited, not having seen your sister since she found out she was pregnant several weeks ago, due to clashed schedules, and a hell of a lot of work commitments - because working at the Shelby Company wasn’t your typical nine to five job -  you had yet to congratulate her in person. Finn was supposed to be accompanying you, but he had said he couldn’t at the last minute, saying Polly had insisted he was at the meeting (and wasn’t best pleased that you weren’t going to be there, either).

And so, that was how you had found yourself in your current situation, irritated at Finn after yet another argument,  tired from work, with the swollen ankles that came from the precariously high heels you insisted on wearing. You were nursing your second glass of a rather strong whiskey, standing and waiting for your sister, who was never on time, as scatterbrained as she was. You half had zoned out looking around at the people in the bar, laughing and dancing to jazz music. You looked at a young couple, smiling at each other, positively lost in each other’s eyes, and wondered just when Finn and you had lost that childhood sweetheart innocence.

You were half in another world, until you heard the utterance of ‘Shelby’ behind you, in a thick accent that sounded rather suspiciously Italian. 

Of a copy of Morrissey , Or the blues of the Deep South

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You barely even moved whilst you tried to listen to what the men were saying. They probably didn’t expect for anyone associated with the Shelby’s to be here, in this bar several miles away from Watery Lane, a place that was nowhere near where the Peaky boys patrolled, with their guns that gleamed in the light of the streetlamps, that inspired fear in others, but a feeling of safety in you. They were speaking English, surely a way for them to fit in more with the scenery around you, to not arise any suspicion, but you’d know that accent anywhere. It had been drilled into you, practically, and as one of the men said Luca in a low tone, you knew it was the Changretta’s sat behind you. You should have ran then, sprinted away, never looked back. But you stayed, swirling your drink in your glass, watching the intoxicating amber liquid go round and round and round.

And the drugs will only hide it

“You are being stupid, Luca.” A man’s voice spoke harshly.

That fucking name Luca. The name of the man who had so ruthlessly and callously ordered his men to kill your future brother-in-law only weeks ago. He had had no thought about Esme, a woman who you loved like a sister, or John’s seven children, or his youngest brother who was slowly being forced to take John himself’s role, a role that distorted Finn so quickly it was like you had woke up one morning next to a completely different man. No, Luca Changretta hadn’t thought of any of this, and you would be happy to see him put to a stop.

The feeling never really goes “Attacking them in their own home? It is suicide, my boy.” The words he spoke were so filled with meaning that you half froze in your chair. You were sure that their was only one family that they could be talking about.

“I guess we will see tonight, if you are correct. But it was not so difficult to kill the last one, now was it?” A gloating voice, one that must have been Luca spoke, and it was all you could do to not turn around in your seat and punch him for his words. 

Your hand shook slightly, as you placed the glass down on the counter again, picking up your bag from where it had been, and slipping from your seat, a poor attempt to look casual, pushing through the doors into the cold early January air, your breath fogging in front of you, as your heart beat so violently and loudly that you heard it in your ears.

You had to warn them. At any moment Luca’s men could be at their door. You squeezed your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to picture it, not to think of Finn, because if you thought of Finn you would panic, and you couldn’t, not right now. You pulled off your high heels, feet hitting the frosted cobblestones, as you made to begin to run. You barely made it a few meters, before you heard the click behind you, the calm, cool voice.

And we won’t find love, at the bottom of a glassy hole. 

“Y/N Shelby! A pleasure to finally meet you.”

You turned, raising your hands slightly, to see Luca, standing alone, smoking a cigarette, his eyes calculating and humourous, locked with your own. He looked so casual, that to anyone else, it would look as if you two were just having a conversation, albeit one at gunpoint, the gun you could see now, aimed directly at your abdomen. If he shot it, it would guarantee a rather slow, horrifically painful, death for you.

“Y/N L/N, actually.” You snapped, your mind whirring, telling you to keep him talking, until you could figure out some fucking way to get out of this. You could feel the cool metal of your own gun, strapped to your thigh, but there was no way you could grab it without him realising.

And you don't know what you've got until it's gone

“Ah yes, you haven’t quite sealed the deal yet, have you?” He exhaled the smoke from his cigarette, as he walked closer to you, until he was only half a metre away, and you could smell the smoke. “When is the wedding?”

“We’re not going to have one of you keep killing off my guest list.” You spoke sardonically, trying not to seem as deathly afraid as you were. To Tommy, or Arthur, or even Finn, this wouldn’t be a big deal, you thought. They’d have plans for this sort of thing, but this was your first time being held at gun point. You wondered if it was the sort of thing you got a cake for at Shelby Limited, like normal companies did for an achievement.

He laughed, though his eyes didn’t express any emotion.

“You’re a funny girl, Miss L/N. It’s a shame, really, that I have to do this.” He gestured towards the gun. “But, needs must. You overheard my conversation, didn’t you?”

He stepped even closer, and you were almost sure you could hit him with the element of surprise, hit his gun from his hands. But your shaking hands betrayed that thought. What if it didn’t work? What then?

And you don't know who to love until you're lost

“You really do have to be fucking stupid if you don’t think that Tommy won’t have preempted any of the shit you plan to pull.” You spat, lowering your hands a tiny fraction. He didn’t notice.

“He seems rather distracted lately, doesn’t he? And anyone in Birmingham can tell you about the... ah, what should we call them? Cracks that are beginning to show in the Shelby family.”

“Perhaps he is distracted because your family murdered his fucking wife, Changretta.” Your hands were now barely raised, but he was distracted, each of your staring into the others eyes - fear and anger versus power and arrogance.

“As he killed my father.”

“This is nothing to do with me. Just let me go, okay?”

“You have already ruined my plans. Someone will have already found your boyfriend, I assume, and he and the rest of the Shelby’s will be on their way here.”

“So go. You know you can’t win against them. Not tonight.” Your heart was thrumming in your ears so loudly everything felt almost quiet in comparison.

And you don't know how to feel until the moment's passed

“But I can take something from them. Your time is up, Miss Shelby.”

“Y/N?” You heard a yell, an almost terrified one, but it was at least a street away. Finn would never get here in time.

Changretta turned his head towards the noise, and you took that moment, grabbing the gun in his hands, trying to wrestle it out of them, desperately. There was a bang and then there was silence, and the gun slipped from between your fingers, clattered to the floor. Your eyes regarded Changretta with shock, as your knees began to buckle, and you landed onto the cold hard cobbles, hands trying to find what was wrong.

“I’m sorry I had to do this.” For a second, you almost thought he sounded genuinely sad. “But your family took something from me. Now, I must take everything from them.”

“Y/N!” The voice was louder now, and you turned, to see a group of men at the top of the street - Finn amongst them. They came too late.

I wish you'd live like you're made of glass

You turned back to Changretta , but he had already gone, disappeared into the shadows.

It only felt like seconds before Finn was in front of you, and you had raised a shaky hand to point the direction where Luca Changretta had gone, directing the rest of the Blinders with him. Soon, the way it had always been, it was just the two of you. Finn and Y/N.

His eyes scanned you for injuries, before they landed on your abdomen, the dim streetlights enough to see the scarlet liquid on your dress, spreading across the cobblestones. It was too much, for such a small person, you thought. You weren’t shocked, as you saw it, you knew as soon as the gun went off you were hit, and now you could feel the metal bullet, lodged somewhere inside you, feel the pain that extended to your fingers and toes.

“No.” He said quietly, his eyes locking with yours. “No.”

“Finn-“ Your hands reaches out to cup his face, the blood on them leaving marks on his cheeks, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel his warmth. You were so cold. So fucking cold.

“I need an ambulance.” He roared, looking towards the pub where you had been only ten minutes before, where several people were looking out at the scene. “Right fucking now!”

They weren’t ones to ignore a Shelby, and so they dissapearwd from the window. You knew it would do no good. You knew you-

And we've got work in the morning, But it's nearly 5 a.m.

“I’m going to die Finn.” Your eyes were filled with tears, as were his, as he tried to press your wound, ripping off his jacket, holding it against your abdomen.

“No you’re not. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He repeated like a mantra, his voice shaky and cracking at every word.

Finn knew death. He had seen what felt like a hundred people die, had been the cause of several, and he knew from the look in your eyes, the paleness of your skin, that this was the end. Somewhere, deep down, he knew you were going to die, right there, on this rainy street, cold, and scared. He knew he could do nothing about it.

“It’s okay, Finny.” You said gently, hands still caressing his face. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

“Don’t die on me now, yeah? Please.” That word, filled with so much emotion, as he almost begged you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we argued ... tonight. I just ...” You trailed off, your mind not really working, not letting you find the words. God, it hurt so fucking much. In the distance, you thought you heard the ambulance.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

You nodded, leaning up against the wall behind you, feeling the cold start to set into your bones. The world felt almost fuzzy. You looked up, into the night sky. The pollution in Birmingham never allowed for stars in the sky, but you wished you could see them, right now.

You felt your eyes become heavier, like someone was weighing them down with pennies.

Is this really what we envisioned?

“Love you.” You mumbled, looking back to Finn. He was crying freely now, and you wanted to wipe away the tears, but it felt like you had forgotten how to move.

“Come on, the ambulance is almost here. Just a few more minutes.”

You shook your head, a tiny movement. You smiled at the boy, the boy who had made the last five years of your life bearable, who was your first, and last, love. You thought about the house you were planning on buying together, and the crib that you one day were going to have, and the honey suckle in the garden.

And you closed your eyes.

We won't be 21 again

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 5- Buried Remembrances

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? Honestly I don’t know how I am doing. I had a massive breakdown just now and my mom is still yelling at me. Everything has just been a mess. So, please ignore any mistakes, and I am really sorry if it is not good. I am just not in the best state of mind rn and if I don’t post it, I will never get it done. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you still enjoy reading whatever this is 💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: ~2K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, They've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex were stupefied on seeing Mark's condition. He was the jolliest man they have ever known, his happy-go-lucky personality and on-point sense of humour acted as a charm on the surrounding people. This was one of the qualities which made him an amazing doctor because he could relieve patients from their sorrows and pain and make them open up.

But seeing him like this, so broken, so fragile made them realize that a smile sometimes hides a thousand scars behind it.

"Mark, listen to me!! I cannot see you like this. Please calm down. I am damn worried" Alex said, keeping tears at the brink.

"Lex, I love you. You are my strength, my power. Hell, you are my everything. Don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to tell what I want to. And the pain will again kill me inside." Mark pleaded.

"Okay, I will try to keep as calm as possible. But, promise me, if matters start getting out of hand, you will stop." Alex said.

"Yes, Mark. If someone knows something about painful childhoods that is Ethan and me. So if you can't talk about it, you won't talk about it. We are heck worried about you, man!" Pooja said.

"I Promise. If I feel like having a nervous breakdown, I will stop. But please hear me out. These memories have stayed hidden for so long that now they feel like a burden. I need to get them out."

Then Mark began continuing his story,

"Remember when I told you in the car that I had a brother?"

"Yes, you said that. I suppose your pain was caused by your brother's death?" Ethan asked

"Ha Ha Ha" Mark let out a bitter laughter. "No, that man is not dead. Yes, my pain is caused by my brother but not by his death. By his deeds."

"He was my favourite person in the world. He was my best friend, my study partner, the person who would listen to my endless rambles. He was the only person who understood me and my thoughts. Or, at least that's what I th-th-thought."

Mark paused, face pale. Something was not right.

"Mark, are you alright? MARK!?" Alex exclaimed.

Mark was slowly losing consciousness. He said slowly, "P-P-Please t-t-take m-me-home... I-I c-can't stand b-being here."

The three sprang into action. Ethan helped Mark in the backseat of the car. Alex sat beside him, placing his head on her shoulder. Pooja sat in the passenger seat. Ethan got behind the wheel and drove to their penthouse.

After reaching, they seated Mark and tried to change the topic for him to feel better. The tension cooled down, and Mark felt better.

"You all are the damn best people in the world. I could never imagine anyone to be so concerned for me. Everybody used to see a happy face and think I am fine. But no one understood my pain like you three do." Mark said, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.

"But, I need to complete my tale. Now that I am feeling better and that we are home, I am sure there will be no more troubles."

Mark continued his story.

"Also, did I tell you that my brother was my inspiration to become a doctor? He was the first doctor in our family. When he was in Med school, he used to tell me the things he learnt. He built that interest for medicine in me."

"Wait a sec!" Pooja stopped him abruptly. "Stop me if I am over-stepping, but your brother is a doctor?! But, But-" She couldn't complete the sentence, but everyone understood what she was thinking.

"Baby, we should not jump into conclusions. Let Mark complete." Ethan stopped her from putting out her thoughts.

"Yes, my brother is or at least was a doctor. B-Before he, he..." Mark stuttered.

"Before he was arrested."

The three gasped. Mark's brother, was arrested?!

"Wait what, he was... arrested? But why? " Alex said, surprise in her tone.

"He, he was arrested for prescribing the WRONG DOSES OF MEDICINES TO HIS PATIENTS" Mark shouted, anger boiling and tears welling up in his eyes. "HE FREAKING MURDERED AT LEAST 3 OF HIS PATIENTS BECAUSE HE PRESCRIBED THEM SUPER HIGH DOSES OF THEIR DRUGS" The tears left his eyes.

"A-And he didn't stop there. He tried to k-k-kill our dad. He...He tried to inject a heavy dose of benzodiazepine to our dad." Mark completed. The horror and shock was evident on the other three's faces. Mark's brother, tried... to kill his dad? But why?

"But why in god's name did he ever do that?" Ethan asked.

"No one knows. The police questioned him for days, months, but got no reply. The only thing he used to do was laugh on their faces and tell them that he will get his revenge." Mark said.

"The day he was arrested, since that day he was considered dead by our family. But the news had a devastating effect on our family. Patients called, hurled abuses, threatened to kill. The neighbours threatened to throw us out. With my dad being sick, me and my mom had to bear it all. All this broke her. So once I got into residency, I took my mom and dad out of that horrid place and brought them to NYC with me."

"But their joy lasted less. My mom, she died within six months of transferring. My dad stayed a little longer. T-The last day of my residency was the last day of is life. And you know what were his last words?"

"What?" The other three asked in unison.

"Don't become Miles" Mark says, tears flowing down his eyes. But, as the three observed, a sense of calm spread through his face. As if a weight had been lifted, from his soul.

"So your brother's name was..."

"Miles, yaa."

"Mark, I hope you are feeling better now. Getting that all out, it must have been a hell of a pain." Pooja asked, remembering her painful childhood.

"Yes, it is. God, I needed to do this. Now I am feeling so fresh, so new. I can finally leave those dark times behind me and start leaving a new life." Mark spoke with a flicker of new hope, new life.

All the while, listening to Mark's story, Pooja was thinking about her pain. Her tale, her own story. She saw how calm and peaceful Mark was after getting it all out. Even after trying, she couldn't remember him being this peaceful, anytime before. She realized that today or tomorrow, she had to take it all out. No matter how hard she tried to bury it, it would come out.

"Mark, do you think, you-your brother could do..." Alex asked with a bit of uneasiness.

"Nothing impossible for a man who tried to kill his father. And also, I am damn sure if the card brought us to my childhood neighbourhood, it would lead to his private clinic. Only he had his practice set up there." Mark scoffed.

"We should look into that. But first we need to check on the questions we had written in our notebook. We need to complete the research as soon as possible. Mark, Lex, can you stay here for the night, we could finish it today itself if you two could be here." Ethan said.

"Yaa, we surely can. No, we would love to. You know, whose is a better tension-calmer than me, hmm? I am a humour boss." And with that, old Mark was back.

"Sure, Mark, sure. But maybe the points to the best sarcasm goes to Lex?" Ethan chuckled.

"Ohh, Ramsey. That's what makes me and Walton soulmates." Mark said, trying to pull Alex into a hug.

"Mark, SHUT UP! You know I hate hugs. I hugged you earlier because I was hecking worried. Now, hush!" Alex said, trying to hide a giggle and spectacularly failing

After a few more moments of laughter, the four set to work. They thought they would not find much about their questions on the 'net, but what they read shocked them more and more. As they got the information, they started writing it down below the respective questions.

1. Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Richard Davis. 43. Investment banker. Originally pursuing Medicine, later went on to pursue his interest in investment banking.

2nd part: No answer

2. Why did no one from his associations never come to question about him?

No answers

3. Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

No answer. But speculating that the murderer is Miles Danvers.

4. How was the murder committed?

Acute cyanide poisoning. Throat slit afterwards.

5. Addresses.

Address No. 1 checked, the MedMinders Store. Not checked Address 2 but is possibly Miles Danvers's private clinic.

6. MedMinders Drug Store

Checked. Valuable information received.

7. D.I.B.S.15

No Idea.

"So far, so less. We are beautifully lacking on information." Mark remarked.

"Agreed. Agreed. But wasn't this man supposed to be high-profile?" Alex said

"Maybe high-profile with full pockets. Not fame." Pooja said.

Ethan however, did not partake in the discussion. He was busy thinking something.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?" Pooja asked on seeing his furrowed eyebrows."

"I think I might know what D.I.B.S.15 means," Ethan said

"What? I mean, how? That could mean anything" Alex said, visibly surprised.

"No, not anything. I think it means, 'Davis, Investment Banker, Scam 2015" Ethan put out his thoughts.

"D, understood, I.B, understood, but S and 15? How did you deduce them to be scam 2015?" Pooja asked.

"I remember reading about it. It was one of the biggest investment scams ever. And it was speculated that some high-profile investment banker was behind it. But the real culprit was never caught." Ethan laid out his thoughts.

"So, this man is a fish of the deep waters. He is so much more than what we thought." Mark said

"And that also means that if somebody had come to know about it, then he had enough enemies. This mystery is getting tangled with every passing moment." Alex said.

While talking and discussing possible theories, they looked at the clock. 2 at night.

"Oh, dear! We have work tomorrow. God, let's get some sleep, otherwise we will be like living zombies in the halls tomorrow." Pooja said, giggling.

The four tidied up the living room, said their goodnights and went to sleep.

The nightmares began again. Pooja couldn't sleep an ounce. She was too afraid to close her eyes. The memories terrified her.

Enough. No more nightmares. No more suffering. No more sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling so powerless.

"Ethan, Ethan" She gave him a jerk.

"What is it, Poo? Are you okay, is it the nightmares again?" Ethan woke up with a start.

"I need to tell you. All about this. I cannot bear it any more." Pooja said.

"I am all ears, baby. Tell me everything. If this can make you sleep, I am ready to wake all night to listen to you." Ethan said, pulling her in his arms.

Enclosed in his arms, she laid it all in front of him. The way her mother was murdered. The way she was kidnapped when she was only 11. The terror she felt when she was all alone. The horror when she saw the bloody knife. And the heartbreak and pain she felt when it was found out to be her aunt, her mother's sister was behind all it. The disgust that she felt towards her when she revealed her sinister plans, her hunger for money.

At last, everything was out. As if she was free. As if now, there were no troubles in her life. But what happened till now was only the taste of a sinister plan. The actual dish was yet to be served.

PS: If you have come this far, I am truly grateful to you. I just hope to be at a better place the next time and be okay. But I will stop this ramble now and I hope you have a great day ahead💕   

Tags: @bbrandy2002 @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey  @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019@3riche @chetachisblog @starrystarrytrouble @arcticrivers @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine​ @aestheticartsx​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @ao719​ @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406​ @neotericthemis​ @openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part two Word count: ±2250 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part two summary: After successfully wrapping up a werewolf case in Waco, Texas, the boys are on their way again. However, an unexpected phone call might just result in a change of course. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Waco, Texas      November 30th, 2005 - Present Day

     “Get your motor runnin’. Head out on the highway! Lookin’ for adventure, and whatever comes our way.”

     It’s early morning in sunny Texas as the black Chevrolet Impala shoots down Interstate 35, just outside the city of Waco. The temperatures are still cool at this hour, but the orange sun that’s rising in the East will change that within hours. It is exceptionally warm for this time of the year, even for this far south. 

     Dean has his window rolled down and joins Steppenwolf’s lead singer John Kay on the vocals. The hunt was pretty straight forward; after a day of traveling and three more to track the creature, the hunters were able to make the kill. He feels ten times better than he did five days ago, the night he got pulled out of the water without a pulse. But the rest, time and a high dose of antibiotics did him good. Deep breaths aren’t much trouble anymore and the cough is as good as gone. Even the sprint to tackle the werewolf didn’t set his lungs on fire. He’s off pain medication, slept horizontally for the first time in days, and is behind the wheel of his Baby; Dean feels good as new. His way of celebrating is by belting out every word of the legendary rock classic Born To Be Wild.

     “Yeah, Darlin’, go and make it happen. Take the world in a love embrace. Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space.”

     His brother, who is huddled in the corner of the door and the front seat, opens his eyes slightly and glares at his sibling through the drowsiness. He’s not sure what’s more surprising, Dean’s unbelievably good mood or the fact that he’s able to hit the notes.

     “Like a true nature’s child, we were born, born to be wild. We can climb so high, I never wanna die!” Dean sings as he drums on the wheel.  

     “Dude, I’m trying to sleep,” Sam complains. “Turn that shit down, will you?”      Dean looks aside, as if his brother just said something vile. Did he just call Steppenwolf shit? The oldest of the two shakes his head; I tried so hard to raise him right. 

     Instead of honoring Sam’s request, Dean lets go of the steering wheel and plays the solo on his air guitar. Startled, the passenger reaches to take control in order to keep the car steady, after which he eyes his brother. As he does, Dean turns the volume button clockwise and sings along again.      “Born to be wi-i-ild!” he cries out.      “Seriously?” The youngest of the two shoots a look of annoyance at the driver.      “Ah, c’mon, Sammy. Why can’t a guy have a little fun?” Dean replies.      “It’s Sam,” his brother reminds him. “And for one, because I barely slept last night, and secondly, because it’s seven thirty in the morning.”      “So? You’re usually the one who’s all chirpy at the crack of dawn. This way we have the whole day ahead, y’know. Make some use of it,” Dean quips.

     Sam lifts one eyebrow and observes the driver for a few seconds. Is this truly coming from his brother, who is anything but a morning person? Bullshit, he thinks to himself.      “That’s the best you could come up with?” he confronts.      Right at that moment, AC/DC’s Stiff Upper Lip starts playing on the radio channel and Dean can’t help but to shout out when he recognizes the introduction.      “Man, I love this song!”      Sam shakes his head. All that his brother is doing is avoiding the topic of conversation. “And Erin didn’t mind you leaving before the alarm?” 

     Dean looks aside, thinking of the gorgeous brunette he picked up at a bar last night during their celebratory drink. “Not sure, she was still asleep when I left,” he admits.      The younger Winchester scoffs. “That’s just mean.”      “It ain’t my style to hang around too long, you know that,” Dean reminds his brother, defending his actions.      “Why the hell are you in such a hurry? We don’t have a lead on Dad, we don’t have a lead on any case at all. Yet you dragged me out of the motel room at 6 AM to hit the road,” Sam questions.

     His brother shrugs and fails to answer the question. Instead, he mouths the lyrics of the song while cheerily banging his head to the beat.      “Dean!” Sam shouts, trying to get his brother to focus.      “What?!” Dean bounces back, getting somewhat annoyed with his brother’s persistence. “I just wanna get to Hillsboro to pick up that lock so I can finally fix the trunk, that’s all.”

     The passenger rolls his eyes at the lame excuse. “That’s not the reason, Dean. And you know it.”      Dean lays his hand on top of the wheel and shakes his head. “You’re seeing things that ain’t there, know that?”      “Funny, though, apparently you know that I’m talking about Zoë, without me even mentioning her,” the youngest returns with an attitude. “And do you honestly think I didn’t notice that you’re driving north?”      “We’re in Texas, Sam. I can’t exactly go South without crossing any fucking borders,” Dean argues. “Not to mention that ‘north’ is a lot of square miles in this country. How the hell would we possibly be able to find her?”      “I don’t know, man…” Sam stares up the road ahead, but then looks aside. “But you did think of it then.”

     Dean sighs, realizing his slip of the tongue. Okay, so maybe he did, but he isn’t going to admit that. “You are the one who keeps calling her every day. You’re full on stalking her, no wonder she doesn’t pick up.”      “I hope to God that’s the reason,” Sam responds, worried.      “She’s probably just neck deep in a case,” the driver brings to mind. “Zoë’s a good hunter, she knows her shit. Why would you think she’s in trouble?”      “I don’t know, just the way she took off. Like she wasn’t expecting to see us again,” Sam recalls.      “You mean that she was nice?” the oldest rephrases. “Look, if she’s in trouble or not, we’d be searching for a needle in a very big haystack. For now -” He turns on his blinker and exits the highway, “- I’m gonna patch up my Baby.”

     Ten minutes later, they pull over on 526 West Elm Street in Hillsboro. It’s a quiet lane on the outer side of the city, on which a little auto shop called Ronny’s Garage and Wrecker Services is situated. It’s not a big place, just a shed, from which the Stars and Stripes flag flutter playfully. A big Chevrolet truck is parked in front of the lawn, and several wreckages fill the large yard behind the house. On the other side of the sober home next to the shed, there’s a small gas station. 

     Dean cuts the engine and gets out of the car. A largely built man with big sideburns and a slight limp in his walk shows up from under the garage door and moves into the sun. Whipping his hands clean with a dirty cloth, he smiles at the sight of the ‘67 Impala. The oldest of the two Winchester brothers walks up the driveway.      “Ronny Davis!” Dean grins as he approaches him. “Man, it’s good to see ya.”      “Long time, no see, Winchester,” the big man says, embracing the hunter.

     Dean pats him on the back and restores the space between them. It has been a while. Last time he saw the brawny guy was at a shady diner in Tampa, where he and John helped Ron out on a Djinn case. It must have been four years ago, at least. Sam just left for college around that time.      “How’s your old man?” he wonders.      “He’s alright,” Dean says, keeping up appearances. “Workin’ another case.”

     It’s not a lie. Well, technically it’s not. He will leave out the part where his father is missing, though. Not telling the truth to the old friend is not something he’s comfortable with, but he will do anything to make sure his father’s work isn’t jeopardized. Sam was eager to reach out to other hunters in order to find him and although Dean wants to track him down just as well, he prefers to keep this in the family, letting sleeping dogs lie. Who knows who, or what, might be listening in. They will find Dad, when he wants to be found. 

     The two men enter the garage, where a 62’ Lincoln Continental lays on the operating table with a bared engine bay. While Dean nods at the car with appreciating eyes, Ronny turns around to  observe the youngest Winchester for a moment, who gets out of the car.      “I see Sam is back in action.”      “Yeah, dragged his ass back into the game,” Dean replies with a trace of regret in his voice.      “He’s an excellent hunter. We can use a few good men like him,” Ronny says. “Especially now that one of the very best was sent on early retirement.”      Dean chuckles at his comment and glances down. “How are you, by the way?”      Ron pulls up the pant leg of his overhaul, revealing the bionic prosthetic.      “It doesn’t even hurt a bit,” he jokes. “Ruguru took it right off, knee and all.”      “I’m sorry, man,” Dean sighs, his sympathetic eyes meeting Ronny’s.      “It’s quite alright, actually,” he assures, smiling at the ground. “I mean, I still have holy water on my nightstand and a sixgun by the door, but instead of killing monsters I fix cars now. Life could be worse.”

     Dean can’t help but to agree on that. A small prick of jealousy pierces his heart, because deep down, he wouldn’t mind living the ordinary life. Sure, he has embraced hunting, or at least acts like he has. He finds fulfillment in the job, saving people who are in need and ridding the world of evil, but it comes with great sacrifice. Who knows, maybe when they finally find the son of a bitch that killed his mother, he can lay down his weapons. Some day.

     The former hunter has walked to his workbench on which a dissected transmission box lays bare. “So, what brings you here?”      “Passing through, just wrapped up a case in Waco,” Dean tells him. “Some scumbag tried to break into the trunk, though. The lock is busted, couldn’t fix it. And since you have six and a half a Chevy in your backyard, I figured you’d be the guy who could help me out.”      “I actually dismantled a 69’ Caprice last week, same lock as the ‘67.” He moves a few boxes around, snuffling through the thousands of parts. In this organized chaos Ron is able to find what he’s looking for and pulls the lock plus keys from a drawer.      “Let’s get to work,” Dean suggests, contented.

     As the mechanics take a look at the Impala, Sam wanders off. Not going anywhere in particular, the youngest Winchester strolls down the crooked sidewalk, taking in his surroundings. None of the lawns in the neighborhood are taken care of, no one made the effort to water the grass. The houses seem neglected, paint is coming off the wooden frames and weeds growing through the tiles. 

     With a sigh he takes out his phone. Scrolling through the list of last outgoing calls, Zoë shows on the display over and over again. Dean’s right; he is stalking her. Despite that thought, he presses the green button and puts his new Blackberry against his ear, since the last one perished in the lake in Paragould.

     “This is the voicemail of Zoë Sullivan. You can leave a message after the--”

     Annoyed, Sam hangs up and walks on. As he enters the small shop by the gas station, a bell rings. A middle aged woman behind the counter looks up and greets him politely. He gives her a nod and takes a few candy bars from the selves, since there is no healthy alternative in stock to choose from. So much for breakfast, but at least this will save them from starvation.      “That will be $ 3,60, sir,” the lady informs while she puts the bars in a plastic bag.      He passes her a five dollar bill and takes the bag and his change. As she wishes him a nice day, he leaves. The sun almost blinds him, still hanging low, but shining brightly already. Sam narrows his eyes and starts to make his way back to the garage, when his phone rings. A bit startled, he hastily takes out his phone, hoping it’s Zoë, but the caller ID isn’t identified on the display. While wondering who it could be, he answers.      “This is Sam.”      “Sam Winchester?”

     A bit stunned, the young hunter looks back at his display to make sure the woman on the other end of the line isn’t Zoë. The voice coming through is different, softer, with a slightly dissimilar accent. Sam digs deep down his memory, but he doesn’t recognize the person on the phone.      “Who is this?” he asks, still cautious.      “I have some information for you.”      Whoever she is, she got his attention. Sam tries to not sound too curious as he responds. “What kind of information?”       A short silence follows before the girl answers, but when she does, her words bring his heart and mind to a full stop.

      “I know where your father is.”

There you have it, the first chapter of the new episode “Black Dog”. I hope I got your attention! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part three here

[raziroo]

2. Demon Child (Pt. I) - Remus Lupin

Pairing : Remus Lupin x Reader

Genre : Angst, teeny weeny fluff.

Warnings : Abusive home conditions, mentions of death, graphic descriptions of death.

Word Count : 4,581

~~~~~

Seven months. Seven months I'd spent with him, and had fallen in love with him, rather unfortunately, might I add. Because even though I knew I loved him ever since the kiss, it was an even more surreal feeling, knowing that finally, finally I was in love. Finally I had become capable to feel humane emotions in appropriate proportions after a long, numb seven years.

But then she came back. Crystal Hollander came back, and ruined everything that was good in my life, just like she had in my sixth year. 

.....

The Death Eater attack was unexpected and out of the blue; therefore the deaths and injuries were in such great proportions.

Sadly, painfully, torturously, Cynthia had also perished in the attack, simply due to Crystal being her usual dumb self. The girl, in all her blonde hair and knife-like nailed glory, had been thick enough to not keep her eyes on the Death Eater she and three other witches were duelling, Cynthia included. 

The Death Eater took advantage of the split-second distraction, obviously, and so Cynthia jumped in front of Crystal, shielding the latter, and getting hit by the curse instead. It hadn't been the Killing Curse, however; the Death Eater had used a curse that melted your insides. 

And I, along with all the other horrified spectators, could do nothing but watch as my friend screamed and cried and groaned, all noises of pure and utter agony. Her body was disintegrating in such a grotesque fashion, you wouldn't be able to fathom what I saw unless you saw it too. 

Finally, her body fully vanished, no trace of her left, and the Death Eater who had attacked her let out a laugh. Unmasking himself, I saw a face I certainly wouldn't have expected to see in a million years. Cynthia's father, Magnus Fawley, the man who was supposed to be dead. 

And as the moments passed, I continued staring at the hysteric man, my blood boiling, my eyes seeing red. Before I, or anyone, for that matter, could do anything, the Death Eaters had all apparated away. 

Cynthia hadn't been built a memoir like all the other deceased witches and wizards, even with eyewitnesses. The ministry simply wasn't ready to believe that Cynthia was innocent and hadn't let her father and company into Hogwarts, that she was the victim. 

There hasn't been a grave made for her either; what would they even bury? Every fiber of my friend's being had been cursed out of existence, and the Ministry couldn't even give her a memoir. I had been furious, livid, to say the least, and was ready to kill. 

My mood had again shifted to that ferocious animal that didn't let anyone close, didn't break down her walls for anyone; the type of person that people would want to keep away from. My entire seventh year had been spent fighting for my friend's grave; I hadn't even cared if I didn't pass my N.E.W.T.s, I just wanted a memoir for my friend, justice for her, proof, that Cynthia Rosamond Fawley, a pure blood Slytherin, was innocent, that she wasn't involved in the Death Eater attack. Of course, except the eyewitnesses, no one was ready to believe me. Even some of the eyewitnesses had turned away, not wanting to be declared as 'crazy' in the Daily Prophet, as I had been. 

However, by the end of 1978, I had realized that there was no way in heaven or hell that these dumb wizards and witches would be accepting of my friend's innocence. That didn't mean that I stopped fighting, I did, just a lot more quietly.

On a pleasant day of March of 1979, I'd been sitting in this coffee shop near the end of Diagon Alley, researching a book called "Lethal Jinxes and Curses - 101 Ways to Get Away with Murder Without Using an Unforgivable".

Me reading the book could be suspicious to some, as the aura I radiated suited the book's genre and title; I, however, had no lethal intentions, I just wanted to research what the inside-melting curse was called. I obviously recognised the curse because I'd read about it somewhere, I'd just forgotten it's name. Hence the book.

I was more than a bit startled, then, when somebody chose to sit in the seat opposite me, in the most secluded corner of the little cafe. Not looking up, I droned, "Whichever painfully idiotic moron has decided to sit opposite me, please leave." The person made no move. "Now."

"Why do you want me to leave?" questioned a mildly familiar voice. Finally removing my eyes off of the text, I was shocked to see a lanky, sand-haired, scar-faced, secret-keeping Gryffindor before me - Remus Lupin.

Raising an eyebrow, I leaned back in my chair, staring right into the boy's green-blue eyes. He kept my gaze for a long period of time, before ultimately adressing the elephant in the room, my gaze still unwavering. "Why are you here, Gryffindor?"

He immediately responded. "Does there have to be a reason? I just wanted to sit here."

"Here? In front of the crazy Slytherin who's dumbly defending her guilty pureblood friend? You shouldn't. After all, you and the... Marauders have quite a reputation to uphold, don't you think? Gryffindor's Golden students?" I asked, in a heavily mocking tone. 

He didn't seem fazed. "We don't think you're dumb."

I had almost responded in a biting retort, when I realized what the man said. "'We'? Who's 'we'?"

He slipped up. It was clear in his expression. "The Marauders," he said, so smoothly I would almost have been convinced. Almost. "Don't lie to me, Gryffindor."

"Why do yo-?"

"Look Gryffindor, when you've gone through the amount of lying that I've done, you can catch a liar from a mile away. Also, you're a pretty bad liar, in comparison to your other buddies." I jumped my eyebrows.

The man opened his mouth to speak several times, closing it always, striking resemblance to a fish. He looked down at his lap, finally breaking the gaze. My eyes, however, were still set on him. 

"By 'we', I meant the Order of the Phoenix," he said the last part quietly. 

"Order of the Phoenix? What's that?" I asked, leaning forward and resting my palms on the table, actually interested.

"It's... The reason I'm here," he said, looking up. "Your friend... Cynthia, right?"

"Right."

"A couple of my friends were present there, they're eyewitnesses. They saw whatever... And well, I'm sorry for your lo-"

"Don't apologise, Lupin, just get on with what you have to say. I don't have the whole day, you know," I said, exasperated and curious. 

"The Order was impressed by your determination to prove Cynthia innocent and get a memoir built for her, even when the Ministry has declared you 'deranged'. Even your duelling skills are pretty good... And with all the reading you do," he motioned to the book with his eyes, "I- the Order thinks that you'd make a good member."

"Hm. And what exactly does the Order do?" I had to say, I would certainly appreciate if I was accepted in this Order thing. Just... I needed to know what work they did. 

"We're a secret rebellion against Voldemort. We-"

"No."

Lupin looked surprised. "Pardon?"

"I said no, Gryffindor," my tone was sharp and cutting. 

"OK, at least think about your decis-"

"No, Gryffindor. Thank you," and with that, I got up and stormed out. I couldn't possibly agree to that. Those people would only end up getting hurt. 

•••••

My dream, or rather, nightmare, hadn't been a pleasant one. 

I was standing on... Something, I couldn't make out what. Why? Because even though I was able to see my body, my hands clearly, my surroundings were so very dark. The inky blackness extended to as far as my eyes would go, and it was scary. 

Wanting answers, I treaded forward with caution, my hands held out in front of me so as to be able to make out if there were walls surrounding me. I walked left for about a minute, no walls. Right for the same time period, nothing there as well. I went as far as I possibly could without beginning to hyperventilate. 

Somehow, I had managed to slip, and was now falling at a great speed. My arms and legs were extended out above me, my torso falling as if it carried weight. I tried moving, flailing my arms or something, but it was as if I was paralyzed. 

Finally, after a terrifyingly long period of falling into an abyss of ebony, my body landed. In... a dining hall, it seemed like? The place had an ominous vibe to it, a sinister vibe. I instantly knew there was danger lurking here; the aura the place radiated was enough to tell me that. There was a long dining table in the centre of the room, chairs lining both it's sides, with one chair at the head of the table. 

Just as I was about to take a step forward to investigate, I heard a whisper-y voice, one that gave me goosebumps. Being it soft, the voice was still blood-curdling; I knew the owner of the voice wasn't one to be messed with. 

"Welcome, brother," the voice said. And suddenly, my mind went blank. I think my mouth was open, and I was speaking, but I couldn't make out what I was saying. It was as if I had retarded to a subconscious state, while my body was being controlled by another. 

Just as I heard a booming laugh, my eyes snapped open, and I found my vision focusing on the ceiling of my room.

•••••

Over the past couple weeks, I had been constantly having such nightmares, and I was losing sleep. My body was restless at night, and throughout the day my mind was occupied with thoughts of the voice, and how after a greeting to 'brother', my mind routinely blacked out, until the very last moment. 

My boss had already threatened to fire me, and I certainly wasn't keen on losing my job; I had an apartment to pay for. My anxiety levels had increased by an unhealthy amount, and that was the precise reason I was currently waiting to speak with the receptionist of St. Mungo's. 

I had been waiting in the line for about 10 minutes, and I was, as recent usuality, was contemplating my dreams. That voice, it had seemed recognisable, like I'd heard it before, but I just couldn't remember where; the name was always on my tongue, but due to some reason or the other, I was always interrupted. 

The most recent time was when-

BANG! 

An explosion rang out throughout the hospital's first floor, the floor directly above us. A large chunk of the floor fell down, crushing a couple people underneath, as dust and gravel rose up, making me and other witches and wizards cough. I snatched out my wand from its holster, ready to take on any threats that approached. 

I had been right in doing so, because not a moment later a hoard of Death Eaters stormed the hospital; the patients all ran around screaming and shielding their children, apparating away, while the healers and nurses scampered around summoning aurors and trying to control the mess. A group of Death Eaters attacked the group of people I was standing with, so without a second thought, I threw a spell at them. And then it began, a duel, a series of harmful and offensive spells, beams and flashes of light, and a lot of swearing and cursing on my part. 

After, what I assume were, a couple minutes, aurors and Ministry officials flooded the place, and the Death Eaters were getting overpowered. However, I soon spotted a familiar face; a couple of them, actually. Remus Lupin and James Potter, duelling against Magnus Fawley and Rabastan LeStrange. 

LeStrange soon caught my eye, and nudged his partner-in-crime. As the Death Eaters' attention shifted to me, so did the Gryffindors'. The Vipers approached me, and before they even got a chance of coming close, I fired. Now, look, I had no doubt that the Gryffindors weren't good duellers, they were pretty good; it was just the Death Eaters I was worried about, the spells they knew. Because even if they were good, the Gryffindors had no idea of what appalling spells the Dark Lord taught his followers. 

The three of us Slytherins were now caught in a frenzy of curses and jinxes, the Gryffindors had been caught up in fighting a few other mask-bearers, a couple of their companions had joined in as well. 

"You know that I won't hesitate to kill you, right?" Magnus jeered at me, our wands still moving. 

"Oh, I have no doubt. After all, you killed your own daughter, Magnus Fawley, you absolute bastard," I retorted, more than a little out of breath. 

He scowled. "It was for the Greater Good, child! It is all for the Greater Good!" he exclaimed. "Join our ranks, and you will get all that you deserve, but don't have! Your power will be put to correct use!"

I stayed silent for a couple moments, actually considering the idea. LeStrange and Fawley looked hopeful. "Not in a million years, you bloody-" I then proceeded to put to use my extremely colorful vocabulary. 

He sneered, and the intensity of his spells increased. 

I was running out of energy, and I may even have escaped, for there were other people coming forth to involve themselves in the vicious duel, but a spell hit me on the back of my head, and my senses went blank. 

•••••

I hated Voldemort. That noseless git was incredibly infuriating, but also extremely powerful; his aura exuded power. I hated being held hostage in the Malfoy Manor, and have various Death Eaters mock me. 

But the true shock came when Voldemort himself came to visit me in my cell, and he said two words that I would've never imagined would be said by him. "Welcome, brother, " the Dark Lord greeted in his raspy, breathy voice, and I screamed. Screamed because I was experiencing unbearable pain in my head and chest; I writhed and thrashed in hopes to escape the binds of the chains that held me in the cell. 

Some time later, I don't know how much later, as I'd been busy screaming my insides out, the pain finally stopped. Looking up, I met eyes with the Dark Lord himself. He looked down at me. 

"hm. Are you aware of the fact, that a spirit lies within you?" Way to be straightforward. 

"Like... Ghosts? "I was honestly baffled.

"No, an ancient form of magic, which I'm positive you aren't familiar with. This particular form of magic is especially difficult to carry out; after all, transferring a dead spirit to a living human's body is an exceptional instance."

"So... Ghosts, basically."

"No! Foolish child... It is my brother, my deceased brother, who has taken home within your body. That is the precise reason you have been experiencing...nightmares, over the past few weeks. I prefer to call them visions-"

"I don't care what you prefer. And... Did you even have a brother, Tom? "

His eyes grew a startling scarlet, expression still stoic. "Do not call me that. And yes, I did have a brother. One who was killed by Dumbledore at an early age... Of 16. Dumbledore was afraid of what would happen if me and my brother succeeded in doing what we planned to, so he killed him... " 

I was so not ready for that. 

I had honestly forgotten the number of times Voldemort had come to my cell to talk to his brother, and how many times I had wanted to die instead of bear that pain. I was sure that I was already on the verge of insanity; the affliction was so bad, I couldn't even utter a single word. 

I so desperately wanted to tell someone about what was happening; if Voldemort found some way to resurrect his brother, the wizarding war would be already lost. One Voldemort was enough, we didn't need two. 

The free time also gave me a lot of pondering to do; I now understood my father's nickname for me, I knew that I needed to join The Order. If not that, I had to at least talk to Dumbledore, or even Lupin. This... Soul(?) that was in me, and the pain it gave me, I felt like I was in a muggle horror movie; I was as good as possessed by a demonic spirit. 

And as if the pain Voldemort's conversation with his brother gave me wasn't bad enough, there were his psycho Death Eaters, who were hell bent on making me pay for all the humiliation some of them had to suffer because of me. What can I say, I was pretty savage. 

Then there was Bellatrix, who was another case altogether; she seemed attracted to me. And maybe, maybe, I was overthinking, but the sexual tension between the both of us was palpable, it could literally be cut with a knife. She came close to my face often, licked her lips, seductively, and had ran her eyes over my body Merlin knows how many times. And I'd have to be lying to say that I didn't find her at least a bit attractive as well. However insane and cruel and psychotic might she be, I couldn't possibly say that she wasn't easy on the eyes. 

All in all, only Salazar could help me out of this situation. 

•••••

I had been asleep in an excruciatingly uncomfortable position on the floor of the cell, when I woke up to violent noises and shouts of people. I was certain that the voices were coming from the floor above me. I had only begun to actually process the situation in my half-asleep form when a hiss of "Greetings, brother," rang out in my ears, triggering the immense agony and torment that I so hated. I didn't really recall when I started sobbing, or when the headache actually went away, because now there was pain throughout my entire body. It was probably the Cruciatus curse; that wasn't the surprising thing though. It was the fact that this pain was just as bad as the headache, and considering all the other torture sessions that I'd previously had, this wasn't Lucy, or even Fawley. This was Bellatrix. 

Well, I guess she wasn't that attracted to me after all. 

I could fairly hear a deranged-sounding laughter; that was Bellatrix. After a couple seconds, I also made out a shrill scream; that was Bellatrix as well. 

The same time as she screamed, my agony stopped as well. I could honestly kiss whoever hurt that bitc- sorry, malicious... she-git. 

However, my pain hadn't really... Reduced, like it did after Voldemort's conversations ended; after he was done, there was only this sharp throbbing behind my right ear, I had gotten used to it. This aching, this soreness that I felt was the tormenting aftereffect of an even more tormenting torture session that I had just encountered. I was still gasping for breath, and even that caused me so much pain, I let out a few shouts in between. 

I was aware of the fact that the Cruciatus curse didn't have aftereffects this bad, even Bella's didn't. This pain I felt was because unlike normal, two people were feeling it; not only my conscious form, even my subconscious mind was also feeling the pain. I was feeling the pain, and so was Voldemort's brother. 

I could see a few people above me... a couple of redheads, a black-haired person, and a sandy-haired one. The Gryffindor and his friends. They cast a couple spells on me, and my pain reduced by a considerable amount. I was able to breathe properly, at least. Thank Merlin. 

My eyes closed, I managed to let out a breathy word. "Dumbledore."

"Dumble-? Why would you-? Di- did something happen?" I couldn't really make out who it was; my ears were still ringing. 

"It's not what happened, Gryffindor," I let out a breath and opened my eyes. "It's what will happen if you don't take me to him."

"My wand," I said, as we walked through the homely-looking corridor of The Order's headquarters. I stopped, turning to Lupin, who had his hand around me in an awkward attempt to help me walk. And it did help me walk, it was just that the situation was slightly awkward; we were as good as enemies at Hogwarts. 

He looked back at me, before glancing to his redhead friend, Fabian, I think. I wasn't sure though, even when he pulled out my wand from his coat pocket. His twin and him looked too similar for me to Ba able to differentiate. 

"Thank you," I said, taking my wand back; I felt slightly better and in control as soon as it came in my grip. 

About a minute later, we were at a mahogany door, on which one of the twins knocked. "Come in," said a muffled voice from inside. When the door was opened, I came across a sight which was - I had to admit - slightly intimidating. Around a long table, seated were many familiar people. Moody, McKinnon, the Longbottoms, Potter and Evans, Pettigrew, Shacklebolt, and a few of the Hogwarts professors, Dumbledore among them, sat at the head of the table. I raised an eyebrow, as all eyes turned to us. 

Most of the eyes held suspicion; I was a Slytherin, after all. 

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked in his ever-so-gentle voice. 

"Profe-" Black began, but I cut him off. 

"I need to talk to you, Professor."

"Well, you can do it here as well, miss," he said, motioning around to the group of people. "I trust each of them with my life."

"I would appreciate it if it was only between both of us, professor. You trust them, I don't." I ran my eyes over the table, landing them back at Dumbledore. 

"Well then, follow me."

•••••

After the conversation with Dumbledore, I had been kept in a room in the Order's headquarters, so that I could heal. Each day, I got food, clothes, and was nursed back to health. 

I was grateful, but that didn't stop me from escaping the cottage. I felt so out of place, and if i added the looks I got on top of that, well, Merlin save me. My guilt complex had come into unwanted use; I had no reason to feel guilty, but yet I did. So, unlike I should have, I escaped the order's HQ while the members were in missions, and Molly was busy taking care of Bill. But not without a 'thank you' note though. 

•••••

I had been sitting in my spot in the coffee shop, reading "Potions and Poisons: Revised Edition" when a familiar face took the seat opposite me. 

"What is it, Gryffindor?"

"How do you know it's me?" I could practically hear the raised brow in his voice. 

"Because all the other people in this cafe are scared of me," I said, my tone indifferent. 

"And... That doesn't bother you?"

"When I was eleven, it did. Now I'm comfortable with it."

"What...?"

I finally looked up, coming face-to-face with a befuddled Lupin. "People have always stayed away from me. I don't even remember how much I've cried because of that. But now it's my safe place, being alone," I shrugged. Lupin looked troubled. "Look Gryffindor, you think it's strange because you were never really lonely. I always was, so it's comfortable for me. I don't really know how to stay in parties or stuff. It's human nature; getting used to how you live."

"But... You did have a friend."

"Who's dead now, courtesy of her father," I said nonchalantly. "Anyways, Gryffindor, what's you here for?"

"I- uh, nothing, really... I guess... I wanted to talk to you...?" he looked nervous. I studies his face for a moment more, and then chuckled. He looked surprised. "What's funny?"

"You, Gryffindor. You didn't know why you came to me? And talking to me was questionable? That's offending."

"I- no! No, no, I wasn't-" I burst out laughing. The poor Gryffindor looked so troubled. 

"Relax, Lupin. I was being sarcastic."

•••••

It was now November of 1979, and it was unbelievable how close I had gotten to Lupin. We would often meet in the cafe, or sometimes in the old library in Hogsmeade, or even in the outskirts of the forest of the Shrieking Shack. 

And as much as it felt weird and strange and unlike me to say so, I had begun having feelings towards the man. He was polite, sassy, sarcastic, bookish, and so much more. He was so like me, yet so different. And I knew by what Dumbledore had said, we would both end up getting hurt in the end, if something ever happened. I often got the hint that my feelings were reciprocated, but I felt foolish each time I thought so. This was Remus Lupin we were talking about, Gryffindor prefect, studious pupil, fun and popular student, part of the Marauders, friends with James Potter and Sirius Black. Why would he be attracted to me, a loner, resented by purebloods, Hufflepuffs were scared of me, and Gryffindors loathed me simply because I was a Slytherin. And even if he did, it would never work out, not in a million years. With Voldemort part two's soul in me, I was basically satanically possessed. 

So when I got the news that the Gryffindor and his friends had been maimed while on a mission, as the headlines screamed, I was worried out of my mind. I had literally apparated to St. Mungo's while I was on the five minute break of my muggle job. 

"Um, where is the Gryff- sorry, uh, Mr. Remus Lupin's ward? He'll be with Sirius Black and James Potter, probably Lily Evans as well," I blurted to the St. Mungo's receptionist. She looked a bit startled, but helped me out nonetheless. "Room 308."

"Thanks a lot," I said, then rushed up to the third floor. I then took a couple of deep breathes, trying to calm myself down. Once that was done, I proceeded to stride to room no. 308, and as I opened the door, my eye instantly caught the warm light green ones of Lupin. I let out a breath, relief flooding me, as my eyes scanned his body, stood behind Potter, who was talking to Black, who lay on the bed. 

"Wh- what are you doin-" I cut him off, however, as I went forward, and without a second thought, cupped my hands around the man's face, and kissed him. He didn't move his lips for the first second, which filled me with dread, but then he melted into the kiss as well, placing his hands on my waist. Separating for breath, I chuckled at the man's expression, then hugged the life out of him. He hugged me back. 

Pulling back, I bit my lip. "I like you, Gryffindor, if that wasn't clear until now," I blurted out, a slight smile on my face. 

He laughed. "The feelings are mutual," he said, blushing. I looked around the room, chuckling as well. When my eyes met the surprises faces of Evans, Black, and Potter, I just shrugged. "What?"

[theredleopardposts]

Servitors Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Lay of the land

By HMK07

Beatrice Montes sniffed the afternoon air as her leathery wings glided her pitch black white veined demon form through the air at speeds comparable to a jet. "Ah Freedom, how ive missed it! I could eat all up." Beatrice mused as she twisted her body in the air ripping through the Detroit Michigan skyline. She then spied a dark haired, brown coated figure with blue transparent wings ahead of her about half a mile, The Unifying King. Both the murderer of her father warlock Michio Montes and her liberator The Unifying King alias Ardor Joncour sparked a mixture of emotions within Beatrice but for now she had no choice but to trust him. The Unifying King slowed his pace "You needn't worry Beatrice Montes, my home isn't much further".

Beatrice frowned trying to sound polite as possible "Just great your majesty. Im sure grateful for your offer as are my friends". Beatrice turned her head back and noticed her companian's the fire and ice demons, Paul and Frank flitting through the air. The two demons had served her and her father Michio Montes before her they were the closest thing she had to family allowing her to boss them around even though they were both older and stronger than her. Paul sped up towards Beatrice flanking her right side as Frank flanked her left as they followed the Unifying Kings pace. Paul smirked at Beatrice "Just look at him, youd think he was born into royalty or something! So B are we gonna get the drop on him and take his home from him? I mean killing the king would earn us alot of cred and allow us to establish ourselves in this new era".

Beatrice had considered the option of betraying the Unifying King but if half the stories she, Paul and Frank had heard from other paranormals about his majesty had been true then backstabbing him was not an option. Beatrice shook her blonde head of messy hair "No, boys we will wait until the time is right after weve regained our strength. Understood?" Paul nodded in agreement "Gotcha B". Frank nodded his agreement as well "Yes Beatrice".  "Ahem, were here" the Unifying King spoke interrupting the trio's plotting as a massive three story mansion began to come into view. "What the hell, he actually owns a friggin castle?" Beatrice marveled at the size of the building, it was made up of three stories of greying dusty bricks with a red brick roof, dirt stained windows, a tower on both side of structure. Beatrice also noticed healthy green vines stretched across its outer walls giving the mansion an eerie feel to it. The Unifying King then lowered himself from the air to the ground landing no softer than a feather degenerating his light construct wings and motioned for Beatrice, Paul and Frank to join him.

Beatrice then tentatively landed her demonic form from the air clawed feet first with her companian's following suit onto the mansions grounds shifting back into human form. Beatrice stretched her inhuman senses towered the mansions structure and heard no other heart beats save two coming from inside the two towers of the mansions and though she couldn't tell there origin she knew they weren't human. Beatrice grimaced "He lives here all by himself? How can he stand it?" she then walked up towards the massive wood front doors of the mansion her sense of touch let her know that something was moving underneath her feet below grass itself. Beatrice hastened her pace followed by Paul and Frank respectively practically racing towards the massive doors. The Unifying King had a look of amusement on his handsome face at his three guest bowing his head as he opened the massive doors with as shove of his hands.

"Welcome to my home, or should I say our home as long as you'll have it" The Unifying King stated as his voice echoed along the mansions first floor which was had several tables made from fine wood, statues carved from marble, paintings by various artist and fancy furniture along with a hundred doors and a stair case that led up to the subsequent floors. The massive scope of mansion seemed to engulf the four occupants. The Unifying King began the tour "I built this place for...myself quite some time ago". The Unifying King paused as if remembering something "There are a hundred rooms on each floor, below us is the basement, and garage". The Unifying King looked at Beatrice Paul and Frank to make sure he hadn't lost their attention "The towers on the mansions sides house two dragons, one per tower". Beatrice was flabbergasted "You own dragons? Seriously?" she asked half shocked. It was true that every sense paranormals came out that dragons were revealed aswell but for someone to own one was almost unheard of, just what had she gotten herself and the boys into?  

The Unifying King began heading towards the stair case "The first floor contains the kitchen, living room, library, game room and throne room among others." The Unifying Kings foot steps appeared to become more weary as the group made it up the stairs as if something weighed on him. "A throne room, really"? Beatrice mused inwardly "just who the hell does this guy think he is....oh wait" She continued walking. Upon reaching the second floor the Unifying King motioned his right hand towards the various rooms "Here on the second and third floor are the bedrooms and observatory! After ive given you the tour you can choose whichever room you'd like to stay in, they all come with baths and clean clothes within the closets. "My own bathroom, thank god for that" Beatrice mused. At the facility she couldn't get a decent bath due to the showers being coed. Having all those eyes on her naked body was not a good feeling and all the more awkward was having Paul and Frank starring at her and eachother. The Unifying King headed back down stairs leading the small group with him guiding himself down the silver stair case back to the first floor and quickly led them behind the back of the stair case. Once at the back of the stair case the Unifying King pressed his hand against its base causing a door to open revealing stone steps leading down a shadowed hall way. "Down here is the basement and garage" The Unifying King led the way down as Beatrice, Paul and Frank followed. "Down here is were I keep my armory of weapons and my vehicles" The Unifying sated as the group reached the base of the stairs through suffocating stone stair case. The basement was just massive as the floor above with various medieval weapons adorning its walls swords, axes, bows. Just about every weapon linked to knighthood was on display like a museum.

The floor of the basement was a different kind of museum, cars galore decorated the stone floor from Detroit muscle cars to european sports cars as well. Paul was impressed "Hmph, his majesty apparently has taste" Paul grinned as he drank in the sight of all classic, new cars and the weapons. The moment of awe was interrupted as the sound of rolling thunder was heard through the basement. The Unifying King smirked "Ah its time to feed the dragons, follow me" he urged the three. Beatrice instantly steeled herself even with Paul and Frank by her this was still a frightening moment this was the first time shed seen a real dragon up close. The Unifying King spoke as if reading Beatrice's thought's "There's no need to be afraid you three, my dragons are tamed, I assure you" he stated as he led the three up the winding towers stairs to the towers metal chamber door. "That's what Im afraid of" Beatrice thought herself silently reeling herself for whatever terror laid behind the towers thin metal chamber door. The Unifying King dug through his pocket looking for something and produced a gold key pressing it into the doors lock. The opened door revealed something only spoke of in legends, before her eyes was a massive long tailed brown scaled reptilian creature with green slit eyes. The creature spread massive leathery wings similar to her own when she'd shifted into her demon form. "Effing huge" Beatrice whispered as the creature took notice of her and released a low growl towards her and the two demons with her. Beatrice was instantly on her guard with Paul and Frank in front of her with a blink. "ENOUGH HANK" the Unifying King roared to the dragon causing it to seat itself on its hind claws and pure out a mixture of a chuckle and growl. The Unifying King then walked over to the left side of the dragons chamber and produced a massive slab of raw meat too large of one man to carry from a large freezer.

The Unifying King laid the slab of meet down with ease of a bag of rice "Here you go boy. Eat up!" The dragon sniffed the meat growling a low grown through its fangs and bellowed forth a large a blast of flames onto the meat charring it and proceeded to eat it up breaking whatever bones it contained down its throat. The Unifying King then looked distantly distracted for a moment "There's no need to check up on Drew, my other dragon he's asleep best too let him stay that way". The Unifying King then led the trio out of the Dragon's chamber and back down the stairs into the basement. "So what do guys think of the place so far?" The Unifying King asked quizzically of trio. Beatrice speaking for three cleared her throat "Its a lovely home, but we don't have any way of paying you for letting us stay here" she shrugged. The Unifying King narrowed his eyes as if considering something "Why don't you three work for me for now on? Ill allow you to live here and Ill even pay you!" The Unifying King offered. "Why would you do that? After everything you've done to us and vice versa" Frank questioned the arrangement. The Unifying King smiled "Because Frank its a new world and I could've killed you three on the way here, particularly when you were plotting to kill me" The Unifying Kings gaze penetrated the three of them.

Paul shifted on the balls of his feet uncomfortably somewhat regretting what he proposed to Beatrice on the way to the mansion. "Anyway, Ive business to attend to Ill leave you three to decide the duties you'll take on, feel free to explore the rest of the house, Ill expect as answer by morning" The Unifying King then disappeared back up the basement stairs with a blur of motion no human could've have tracked with there eyes. Beatrice, Paul and Frank stood in the vast basement mulling over the choice before them and the dragon chambers between them. Frank spoke up first "Ok Beatrice what's the play?" The Ice demon looked down onto the young half breed woman before him. "What ever choice you make ill stand beside you as I always have." Paul nodded in silent agreement with Frank. Beatrice looked between the two demons, they'd been with her through the death of her father, the owning of her club, imprisonment and now this. "Ok boys lets go to the game room" Beatrice commanded as she led them up the stairs like a general with her troops. Beatrice at a normal pace despite her inhuman stamina she was exhausted mentally at least and she just needed a moment after all she just went participated in prison break and had been offered a home and job by a the half angel warlock that killed her father. Beatrice, Paul and Frank had made their way up the stone stairs and closed the basement entrance behind them making their way towards the game room opening the wooden door that guarded it. The game was big enough to host a party in a bejeweled chandelier eliminated the room, its selves packed with board games and video game consuls alike. In the corner a television caked with dust the smell ruffled their sensitive noses. 

"For someone with the title "King" he really doesn't take care of this place does he?" Beatrice questioned aloud. "Yeah" Paul and Frank agreed breathlessly. On a table the laid a deck of cards "Ok boys how about a game of old maid, who ever wins get to pick our jobs! Sound fair?" Beatrice asked with a sly grin. "Well I guess but I have to warn you Im not gonna go easy on you little lady" Paul said a devilish grin on his face. Frank chuckled as he pooled up a chair "I think you two better get used to working under me for now on." Beatrice rolled her eyes pulling up a chair sitting in it and began cutting the cards using her paranormal speed to blur the motion of her hands and the cards. Her father Michio Montes had taught her how to cut cards when he raised her and she'd often when against Paul and Frank while imprisoned so this was merely a formality if anything their jobs had already been decided. After cutting the cards Beatrice dealed the cards to the other two players with a stone walled look on her face. The object was simple each player had to pick a card out of the other persons hand eliminating their cards careful not to pick the joker. Whoever was left with joker card lost the round. "Ok boys Ill start" Beatrice said with a sing-sing voice. Beatrice quickly reached over to Paul's hand picked out a card "Ace of spades, how about that?" Paul eyes betrayed a sense of worry "Oh bullshit on this, I quit...fold whatever just pick the jobs already." Paul had played enough card games with Beatrice to know what she was up too. Beatrice looked over at Frank who still held his cards fast "Then that means you get to be the...Butler Paul" Beatrice ordered her friend. "Oh goodie, boss" said Paul with and obvious air annoyance. Beatrice looked over at Frank like a shark trolling for prawn "OK Frankie boy its just you and me". Frank reached over towards Beatrice's deck with a air of caution and pulled a card Frank looked it over revealing it to be the Joker card and frowned. "Well I guess that you the chef Frank and me...the caretaker" Beatrice said with a smirk liking the title. Paul frowned "Well funny how that works out for you B" Paul said tensing a bit and getting up and making his way to his second floor room. "Im gonna get myself familiarized with the kitchen I guess" Frank grumbled feeling awkward about his new position.

"Don't worry Frank you'll do fine, Ill see you in the morning for breakfast" Beatrice teased as she ushered Frank out of the game room and back onto the first floor of mansion. "Ill see you two in the morning" Beatrice called to both Paul and Frank as she sprinted up stairs to the third floor at a normal human pace. Beatrice wondered the vast third floor and flitted from room to room noticing they all bore same design: A king sized bed against the wall, with the a window on the side and wardrobe with at the foot of the bed along with a bathroom in the corner. All the rooms were the same except for one, The Unifying Kings room. For starters it had twin wooden doors that seemed to peer at a person. Beatrice hesitated. "After all this was his room" Beatrice thought "Oh what the hell, why not? After all come the morning He'll be our employer anyway" Beatrice mused to herself as she pushed the double doors wide open to reveal a messy king sized bed with a telescope and window at its foot looking out onto the night sky. A wardrobe to side housed the Unifying Kings clothes and belongings and a bathroom at at the corner. Beatrice noticed the head of the bed had a sword rack on it presumably for the rapier sword he kept around. Beatrice Quickly held out her had sending a pulse of magic energy through the room only for it to slam right back into her sending her to the floor with slap to the chest. "No wonder he wasn't worried about us trying to kill him, he's enchanted his house. Just how powerful is this guy?" Beatrice thought as she picked herself up off the rugged floor of the Unifying Kings room and headed towards the one she picked out for herself.

When Beatrice reached her room she looked at the marsh mellow sheets on her new bed admiring them. No longer would she have to sleep on musty mattress of the facility she was in hearing the boys snore up close. She smiled and fell over onto the bed letting her mind drift onto sleep, before blacking out however she could have sworn a blue transparent winged figure had put covers over her resting body.

[lauwrite1225]

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 11

Summary :  Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made her arrival to Wessex, the Irishman is forced to deal with his past.

Other chapters

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : fluff ?? 

11|| FIRE 

The tavern was calm, the silence only disturbed by the sound of the four warriors talking at a table in the back of the hall. 

“Do you think he will accept, Lord?” Osferth asked, turning the content of his bowl with his spoon. 

“It's not like he had other choices.” Shrugged Uhtred. “I doubt the Danes aren't already preparing another attack.”

“The walls are strong.” Sihtric noticed. Indeed, a great part of Navan Fort’s walls were in stone. In some parts rocks had fissured and logs were maintaining the ramparts, but it was still strong enough. “They could hold.”

Uhtred shook his head. “They would make a siege.” The Dane turned to Finan, next to him, who was half listening to the conversation. Feeling Uhtred’s gaze, he lifted his head. “The city lives of trades, without it, the population will starve.” He continued, tilting his head in wait for his friend’s approbation.

But Finan vigorously shook his head. “The city has been built to survive such situations.” His three friends stared curiously at him. He sighed and briefly looked around them, to be sure no one was listening, before leaning forward. “There's a crypt under the castle. By it, we can have access to a cave which opens in the forest at the north of Navan Fort.”

“But they could enter the city by this passage then.” Uhtred said, eyebrows furrowing in a skeptical expression.

“No. The opening is hiden behind a waterfall and just a small number of people knows the existence of it. And anyway, the cave is a real labyrinth.” He explained, waving his hand in the air.

“How do you know all of that?” Finan looked up to Osferth, the monk seeming surprised by Finan’s knowledge.

“As surprising as it seems, I had an education, Baby Monk.” He frowned, pointing the youngest warrior with his finger. Osferth playfully smirked at his friend before taking a spoon of his oatmeal.

Even though Finan always had been a reluctant student, he knew how to write and read which had intrigued Uhtred when he discovered it. He justified it by saying that his mom tried to make a monk of him. The explanation had always been enough for his Lord, who assumed that Finan’s battle planning skills only came from a sharper mind than he pretended to have. But the truth is that the Irish warrior had been raised to be a King. And even if it was true that his mother tried to instill him a pious spirit, his father inculcated him the art of battle. And as much as he had hated him, he knew he was still alive only thank to the hard training he pushed him to do.

Their discussion ended with the sound of the door opening. The light drew Ailis silhouette, her hair shining at the sun until the wooden door was closed again. Finan studied her as she walked toward them, the skirt of her dress waving at each of her paces. It wasn’t the first time she saw her rid of her armor, but yet he couldn’t help but relished how the cloth was perfectly falling on her hips. Ailis was a warrior and years of training didn’t gift her the heavy curves of some whores he had crossed the way, but the grace with which she walked played almost an illusion. Only the white lines on her bare arms could warn that a warrior was hiding behind those manners.

She took a chair on her way toward them and sat at the end of the table. A serious look was forged on her face as all the men stared at her.

“What is it?” Finan asked, concerned by her expression.

She suddenly seemed aware of her expression and so, she shook her head before sighing. “It’s nothing.” She smiled, but Finan could see the lie behind. However, he said nothing and just nodded. “You spent the morning here?” She asked.

“We did, Lady.” Osferth replied, pushing his now empty bowl. It was past midday now and it had been only few hours since the four men had woken up, enjoying the warmth of a bed after a long travel. “Not that we wouldn’t have enjoyed to visit, Lady.” The former monk smiled.

She smiled back at him, a more sincere and soft one that made thin lines appeared in the corner of her ocean eyes. “Well, I think you’ll have to visit anyway.” She leaned back in her chair to take a letter stuck in her belt. “I just got a word from the King. He organized a banquet tonight, and you must take part of it.” She explained, handing the letter to Uhtred.

Finan glanced alternatively to Ailis and his Lord until he gave back the paper. “Does it mean he’ll accept?” The Dane Slayer asked.

“I hope so.” She shrugged, her brows furrowing in concern.

“Have you talked to him?” Finan demanded then. She briefly looked at him before pinching her lips.

“I did.” Her answer was dry and he didn’t try to go further again. “Anyway, there will be some high Lords, you should all try to look decent.” She said, pointing their dirty clothes and faces, with an amused smile. “I’ll get you some clothes and you…” She stood up from the chair and walked to Finan, putting both of her hands on his shoulders. He turned his head to her, meeting her eyes as she leaned a little above him. “You should bring them to the river.”

She rose an eyebrow waiting to see if he knew what she was talking about. A warm smile grew on Finan’s face and she squeezed lightly his strong shoulders, however he felt like they could melt under her touch. “I will.”

The river wasn’t far from Navan Fort. It was running from the forest at the north, falling there in the waterfall Finan had mentioned earlier, to the south, crossing fields and little woodland. Some were beautiful and peaceful place he had enjoyed to go in his youth.

“Good.” She said, walking back. “Tonight then, before the sunset.”

 …

 “The ale is watered down.” Sihtric grimaced as he put down his cup.

“It’s war, the men need to be sober Sihtric.” The youngest warrior rolled his eyes.

“They are Irishmen, Osferth, they only fight when they are drunk.” The Dane replied, leaning toward his friend with a smirk.

The two laughed before looking at the third of them, but Finan was to focus to stare at the huge table at the other side of the room to laugh with them. Conall could be miles away from him, he’ll still find that he was too close anyway.

Sihtric and Osferth shared a concerned look. Only the three of them were at the guests table, with the lowest lords. Uhtred was next to Ailis at the royal table, probably discussing the agreement that Conall finally accepted.

“Finan… Stop staring at him like this or they’ll think you are planning to murder him.” Sihtric said, talking quieter.

“Maybe I am.” The Irishman snapped, stabbing his food with his fork as he narrowed his eyes.

“Stop troubling your mind with this Finan. If you do, you’ll be stuck in Hell with him.” Osferth whispered and it made Finan frowned. The only thought of being stuck in all eternity with Conall made him want to become a monk and pray until God forgives him for his sins.

Finan huffed before angrily bit in his meat. He used to love banquets, ale that flow afloat, the loud laughers and the unbelievable stories of the drunkest. But he could definitely not enjoy this, not even for old times’ sake.

In fact, nothing here gave him the want to cheer in memories of his life here. Years he wondered what he would feel if he ever had to come back here. He hoped that maybe, he’d feel like he was home, despite all the tragic events. When they bathed in the river earlier, like he had done a hundred times years ago, he didn’t feel any nostalgia. Maybe it was his anger towards Conall that was eating him from the inside, ruining all the good memories of a time he should cherish.

And as his eyes fell on Ailis, her face cold without her smile, he remembered her conversation with Osferth on the road to Aeglesburg. How she seemed so uneasy to call Navan Fort “home”. It was where they grew, where they learned what duty was and how their future was already written. And when Finan didn’t follow it, Ailis did and she seemed to be unable feel home here anyway. This castle, full of the ghosts of their joyful days, was now just a bunch of stones and woods.

The room suddenly ushered, bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Conall up, rising his cup.

“Lords, friends, I’d like to thank my dearest friend, Lady Ailis, for the long travel she made to bring us the solution we needed.” Conall started a huge smile spreading his lips.

Finan’s grip on his fork tightened, his brother’s hypocrisy was angering him. Conall had no remorse of how he dared speak to her the eve and now, he was acting like nothing happened. No excuses were made, not even in private of what he knew. But Ailis simply smiled at him before turning to look away. Their gaze met, just a second, but well enough for her to see the irritation of Finan and give him a disapproving look. It didn’t last more, Conall continuing his discourse.

“I’d like to thank the men she brought back with her too.” He turned to Uhtred at his left. “Uhtred of Bebbanburg and his bunch of warriors.” The Dane Slayer bowed his head a little but Conall didn’t stop here. “What a strange band. A Dane, a monk and a traitor.” He smirked, looking toward Finan at one corner of the room.

All eyes fell on the three men. Finan’s blood was boiling, and Conall seemed to be more than amused to see it. Dealla, sit at the King’s right frowned, looking curiously to her husband.

“Isn’t it funny, an Irish slave saved from his tragic destiny by the Dane Ragnar Ragnarsson! The man he used to fight on the battlefield.” Finan’s mouth opened, not expecting Conall to say such things. Next to him, Osferth and Sihtric looked at each other, stunned, before turning to Uhtred who seemed as confused as them. Only Ailis was as pale as a ghost, her eyes opened wide in the void. “For how long have you been a traitor for him to have the kindness to save you?” Conall dared ask, taking care to look right into Finan’s similar brown eyes.

Finan suddenly stood from his chair, making it fall behind, a loud noise echoing in the throne room. He was holding the fork, still in his hand, with so much strength, his knuckles were white. He wished he could jump over the tables and threatened to kill him with it, as he saw Uhtred do with Guthred years ago. But instead, he stuck it violently in the table before leaving the room.

He walked in the corridor, his fists so tight his nails were sinking into his flesh. He heard footsteps behind him coming fast, but he stopped only when his name was shouted. He turned back to discover Ailis, her breath heavy after running to him and a confused expression.

“Finan…” She started but he cut him.

“How does he know? Who told him?” He asked, almost shouting as he raised his hands in the air.

Ailis remained silent for a moment, looking everywhere but not him. “I am sorry. I… I didn’t think he would turn it against you.” She said making him huffed of exasperation.

“What did you expect Ailis?” She looked up to him as he walked a little toward her. “He hates me as much as I hate him.” He articulated.

She said nothing but Finan could see the pain behind her eyes. The pain of the horrible truth and hearing it was making it even more real. He sighed, knowing she didn’t mean any of it.

“Ailis, things will be never be like they were before. We both made unforgivable mistakes.” She folded her arms and looked down. Finan made a step toward her, comforting her by putting his hand on her arm. “When all of this is over, I’ll leave with Uhtred.”

She suddenly raised her head. “You’ll leave?” She asked, almost gasping.

“Of course, I will.” He confirmed. “I am no fool Ailis! The longer I am here, the closer I am to death. So, what could keep me here?” He questioned her, his finger graving the bruise on his cheek remembering the strength with which Conall punched him.

She opened her mouth slightly, but nothing came out of it. Instead, her hand joined his, her delicate fingers meeting his on his bruised cheek. Her blue eyes were more mesmerizing than ever as she brushed his skin, careful not to hurt him. And suddenly, Ailis crashed her lips against his. He froze, the only feel of her mouth, soft and hot, having importance.

The sensation slowly faded and his eyes were meeting hers again. His heart was beating so hard in chest, he thought it could explode. She was still close to him, enough for him to feel her breath. He was confused, by this kiss and yet, when her fingers left his cheek, he knew he needed more.

He took her face between his calloused hands and kissed her. She gasped, surprised by his move, but she quickly kissed him back. Lips dancing, fingers sliding in strands of hair, they were alone in this corridor, but if they hadn’t, it would have made no difference. This feeling that neither of them had ever felt for each other was consuming them and nothing could stop the fire.

After a moment, both of them breathless, they parted. Slowly, they were drifting back to reality. Finan removed his hands, letting one ran along her arm, his fingers caressing hers.

“I should go back.” She said softly stepping back.

She didn’t let him time to add something, she was already walking to the room, leaving him alone in the corridor.

 …

 Ailis fingers traced the curves of her lips, deep in her thoughts, she could still feel Finan’s ones even though they only kissed the eve. The scene repeated itself in loop all night in her mind and each time, she knew she shouldn’t have done it. Now her feelings weren’t a small ember, it was a big fire, invading her heart and head. But Finan was right, he would leave soon and she couldn’t hold him here.

“Lady Ailis.”

She blinked several times before crossing Sihtric’s gaze. The Dane was handing her a flask of water.

“Oh, thank you Sihtric.” She took the flask before hanging it to the saddle of her horse.

She and the four warriors were at the stables near the gates, readying their horses to leave for the south. Conall having accepted the peace King Edward proposed him, they now had to go into the lands the Danes had established and start negotiations.

She unlaced the reins of her horse and joined Uhtred outside, avoiding Finan who was staring at her from where he was patting his mare. She frowned at the sunlight but quickly got used to it.

“Ready to leave.” Uhtred asked her, already perched on his mount.

“I would have enjoyed some more days here, sleeping in a real bed.” She joked, passing the reins over the horse’s neckline. “But I guess we don’t have much time.”

Uhtred chuckled lightly while shaking his head. “With luck, we will be back soon.”

“Let’s hope.” She finally said, in a sigh as she mounted her horse.

A/N : FINALLY THEY KISSED !!!!! Jesus chirst, i wrote this scene months ago, having a total other idea of how it would happen, but I’m well satisfied by this version hehe. Next chapter will be from interesting POV (still 3rd person, eh don’t worry lmao)

Tag: @geekandbooknerd​​​ @sihtric​​​ @queen-manning​​​ @naihqh​​​ @kelly-fasel​​​ @cloudjuumpers​​​ @limenal​​​ @amyyreblogss​​​​ @othermoony​​ and @queerbroceliande​

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Bloodshed AU

Chapter 2

Warnings: Nudity, Gore, Language, Violence Summary: Steve Rogers works in a research and tech company in New York. He’s been digging into myths and footage on a creature known as the werewolf. Vicious as they are, he hunts them. With a lot of failures, his team thinks he’s crazy. He may prove them wrong.

Author’s Note: I freaking love this series! Do you?

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

The trucks drive through the deserts and dry lands towards the village in Gore. Natasha and Steve sat in the back of the truck with Tony and his friend James. “What’s the plan?” Tony asks.

Natasha glanced at Steve who was looking at her, directly. “The plan is to sneak into the village. Steve, Sam and I will be taking the refugees. Clint and James are the lookouts so if anything comes our way, you’ll tell us, right?”

Tony nods, “Sure.”

The curtain towards the front swings open to the dark haired man, “All right, guys. We’re getting close to the abandoned place. It’s not much but something to stay if this mission takes a few days.”

Natasha smiles, “Relax, Scott. I’m sure we’ll finish it less than two days.” Steve looks over to Natasha, “Do we have enough trucks?” Natasha nods. 

“Plenty that the boss got,” She said.

“I’m not the boss,” Tony says, “I just build stuff, buy stuff... make everyone look cooler-” The billionaire jerks forward and everyone holds onto the sides of the truck as they run over bumps on the road.

“Woah!” James says, toppling on Tony’s lap, the man shoves him off. “Hey, personal space! Do you mind?” James grabs onto the wall and glares at Tony. Everyone stumbled in their seats and the trucks began to slow down till they all come to a halt. 

“We’re hear!” Scott calls. Sam and Scott jump out and they watched the other trucks park. Steve grabs Natasha’s waist and plops her onto the ground. She dusted off the sand and looked over to the building. 

“Not much, but it’ll do,” She said.

Tony turns to them, “You kidding? This costed millions. I made so many calls with Ross. You know how much I hate talking to him,” Tony mutters. Steve walks up to the small building. Looked like it was made out of clay and not cement. No tile floors, no glass windows.

Nat follows him behind and looks around as well. “It’s enough to fit the team here.”

“Why get this if you say we’re gonna finish this less than a day?” He asks. Natasha looks at him and smiles, “Just being optimistic. This team needs a little bit of positivity.” He watches her continue throughout the structure as the team moves in.

The chatter throughout the diner never ended. The music and the sounds of the sizzling food of the breakfast hour. The bacon raw and thick could be tasted on the tip of her tongue as she leaned on the counter.

The smell of ham and eggs. People ordering burgers during this hour. It was around 10 at the time. She watched the chef move in the back. Her gut feeling getting to her head and she bit her lip.

“Ma’am?” The waiter says, Y/N shoots her head to the left and saw the woman hand her two cups of coffee. “Oh, thank you,” She said, the waiter nods. “Enjoy.” Y/N takes the cups, headed over to the side to grab sugar packs and cream before heading outside.

She sees him leaning on the wall, that strong cologne with the mixture of pine and toasted almonds was his aroma which was a strange smell to her at times. “Took you long enough,” Bucky says. Y/N scoffs and puts the coffee on the back of her bike. “It was busy in there,” She remarks.

“I know. I can smell the bacon from here,” He said, reaching over to pull the top off his coffee. She hands him the cream and sugar, adding it to his cup. “Thanks,” He says.

She hums and pulls the coffee up to her lips. “Have you seen the police these days?” She asked. Bucky furrows his brows and takes a sip from his coffee, “No, why?”

“They’ve been more cautious about the forest. Shutting down the parks and trails now.”

“Where?” He asked.

“California. Washington,” She shrugs, “They think there’s some mass murderer roaming in the forests.” Bucky chuckles at that and takes another sip. Y/N’s known Bucky for a while now. Yes, they hooked up once. Never denied there were good nights. 

They preferred just friends. And Bucky appreciated that just like she did. 

His eyes stare out into the road of the Oregon County. He looked like he was thinking. She looked over and just stared at his leather jacket. That thing was old, but it was still in good condition. She liked it on him.

Out of nowhere, he spoke, “When’s the last time you’ve hunted a human?”

Y/N huffs out a laugh, “Bucky-”

“No, seriously. Like how did it feel?” He asked. Y/N held the cup in her hands and looked up, the wind blowing the strands against her cheek. “Didn’t feel right,” She replies.

“At first?” He asks, his brows lifting.

Y/N looks over to him, skipping the question, “What about you?” She asked. He pushes himself off the wall and walks over to her. “Well, if I’m honest, they’re better than bacon cooking in a pan. But, we must just stay on the diet.”

Y/N grins as she looks down. “Don’t you ever think this was just some curse?”

“Curse?” He asks, leaning beside her. She turns her head up to him. “Well, if you think about it,” She asks. He chuckles. He remembered with a grin.

“Some say the Natives summoned us,” Bucky laughs at that. “Maybe they did. Roman admitted he killed half a tribe back in the 1500s. He said he didn’t remember much but ripping their throats out.”

“We can’t say things like that here. People can hear,” Y/N says, Bucky looks around and nods. “Right. But you know what I mean. This isn’t a curse. It’s just who we are. It’s family.” 

Y/N’s eye squint towards the morning light as Bucky grins down at her. After a couple more sips, he tossed the cup into the bin. “You up for a ride?” He hops onto the bike and revs the engine after turning it on. 

Y/N hops on hers. “Let’s just get back before dark. It’s our usual night, you know?” 

Bucky kicks the stand up and turns to her. “Of course.” He slowly pushes the bike over to the curb and Y/N tosses her cup into the bin and followed Bucky down the road.

.

The smoke flows passed his lips once he pulled the cigarette away. The ocean moving in the distance as he stared at the golden sand and deep blue waters. He turns his head a bit when Natasha walks in. “Thought you’d be out here,” She said.

He hears her sit next to him and follows his gaze out. His eyes squinting out. “Now about that plan-” He began, looking down at his hands.

“Steve,” Natasha said causing him to look at her. She turns, “No ones gonna agree on that.”

“I didn’t want the others to go. I want you. Only you,” He said. The night when he came over with maps and papers. Natasha didn’t fully agree on it, all she did was listen to his rambling. Rambling about those werewolves.

That mission could possibly take longer than the one they’re on now. Natasha shakes her head, “I’m sorry but...” She lowers her head and he looks away from her. Getting the hint.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I’m not saying that-”

“It kind of sounds like that, Nat. The whole damn team doesn’t believe me, they think I’m some wacko like my dad,” He remarks, lifting the cigarette to his lips again. Natasha inhales deeply, her red and blonde hair hung up in a bun blew against the wind.

“Steve...” She starts, “Not many people in this world believe what your father or anyone has said about these folktale werewolves. Can you just give it a rest for a moment? Once this mission is over?” She asks, he felt her eyes on him. Natasha had that power to force words out of people. Her stare was more intimidating than anyone else.

Steve lowers his head and stares at his fingers that played with the cigarette in between them. He nods, “Okay.” Natasha nods in approval and hears Tony walk in. “Oh, there you guys are,” He says, “We were just about to head out. Getting dark soon, get this done quicker we can all leave soon.”

Natasha stands up, “Okay. Is everyone ready?”

Tony looks around and nods, “I guess we are. Just waiting on you two.” Steve puts the cigarette out and stands up. “Well, let’s not waste time.”

.

The trucks were just miles away from the village in Gore. The team had the trucks on the trail. Steve held onto the bar as he looks over to Natasha. Je watched Natasha cock the gun, “What the hell are you doing?” He asked. She looks up, “What? In case something goes wrong.”

“Nothing is gonna go wrong. Optimistic, remember?” He asks, Natasha grins and doesn’t stop when she slipped the gun into her jeans. Tony held his hand up to his ear, “Clint, what’s your status?”

“James and I are jumping out the trucks... Now.” Tony looks out the back and sees the two run up the hill to be their hawk eyes. “Okay, Barton and Rhodes are going for position. We should stop the trucks here.” Each truck stopped just behind the hill where the village was at.

Men guarded the front entrance of it. They needed to get inside from the sides. “All right, turn off headlights,” Tony said. The trucks headlights all go off and the team step out.

“I will stay here, you and Rogers go in with Wilson. Lang, keep the trucks running till they arrive with the refugees.” Lang nods at Tony. Natasha looks up to Steve who stared at the village over the hill.

“You ready?” She asked. Steve sighs, “Sure.”

Steve heard Sam jump out the truck, “All right, tic-tac, you behave yourself.”

Lang pops his head out, “All right, I will.” Sam scoffs and nods at Steve. The two grab each others hands and they patted each others shoulders. 

“Let’s get this mission done. It’s late, I want a drink,” Sam said, Steve grins. “Don’t think they have drinks over here, bud.” Natasha smiles at them and they all rushed over to the village.

It was quiet. A few dog barks and small chatter. Steve and the other two had their heads hung low. 

They slipped through the gate and hid behind the buildings. “They keep them in that building over there. If we take them through that screen door, we can save all of them,” Natasha says, pointing to the building with the screen door.

Steve squints around the corner and nods, “Let’s go.” The three walk through without getting spotted. They reached the gate. “It’s them,” Someone spoke. Steve opens the screen door and saw a woman walk up to them. “You’re the Stark team?”

Steve nods, “You are?”

“Okoye. Do you think you can take all of us?” She asked, Steve looks around the room and nods. A good amount. “We have about 5 trucks. It’s enough. Follow her out through the gate. Don’t make any sudden sounds and just follow her, you’ll be safe.” Okoye nods and speaks towards the group. 

Steve watched as they all walk out and Natasha guided them out, Sam gently swaying his hands down for the refugees to follow in a straight line. Steve hears Okoye speak towards the others as he turns to her.

“You know T’Challa?” He asked, Okoye turns, “I’m the General of the Dora Milaje. When they were captured I was here to help them.” Steve nods. After a few more minutes, the last bit of them had been guided back with Sam. 

Okoye looks at Steve, “Go, I’ll be behind you guys.” She nods and walks down to her people. Steve looks in the room again and heard whimpers. The whines were close as he walks in to check the last bit of it. 

He saw the blood on the cloth and the evident body shape. It didn’t look human. He kneels down and prepared himself for this horrifying look of a dead body. He rips the cloth over and saw a dog.

A brown and white fur of a dog. His hand instantly strokes its fur, “Hey, buddy.” Steve sees the wound in his leg. Looked like it was just injured at the slightest. Could heal up, but he couldn’t walk. 

Steve pets his head. “You’ll be okay, bud.” Steve slides his arms under the dog and lifts him up. Holding him in his arms, he rushes out and follows the group.

“Where’s Steve?” Natasha asked, Sam looks over, “He was left behind. Checking to see who was left.” Natasha looks over and spots him with something in his arms. “Oh, my God.” Natasha slams her hand on the truck. “Ready them up! We’re leaving!” Natasha rushes to the back while Sam goes for the other truck with Lang.

Tony sticks his head out of the truck, “Come on, Cap! We got no time to lose!”

Steve rushes towards Natasha and she jumps in, “Here, I’ll take him,” Steve puts the dog into Natasha’s arms as she lifts him in. Steve jumps in after and lets out a loud sigh. The trucks move out and Steve instantly grabs the edge to hold himself.

His eyes open to see Natasha petting the dog. “Where did you find him?” She asked.

Steve pants, “He was under the cloth. I had to get him.” Natasha lifts up the dog’s leg to look at the wound. But the dog swiftly slips his foot out of her grasp. She nods at him, “Hold him. I can wrap his leg up.” 

.

The trucks had to be abandoned. The refugees all gathered together as Okoye reassures them in their language. Steve and Tony threw sticks at the flames they put under the trucks. They needed to go on foot so the men won’t track them.

Natasha held a map in her hands. “If we follow this, we can reached Wakanda in half a day. If we move fast and quick, maybe less.” Steve looks up to the group and sighed. “Well, Okoye suggests we take it slow. Some are injured.” Natasha nods.

“Steve,” Sam says, the man turns around to see Sam holding the dog. Steve instantly walks over and takes the dog into his arms. The pup instantly licks his face. “He likes you,” Sam said.

Steve turns his face away from him, “Only because I saved him.” Tony smiles at the sight. “You got yourself a dog now, Cap.”

“He looks like a mix-breed boxer,” Natasha says, never looking up to them. “I had a friend who had a similar dog like that but it was a she. Darker fur.” Steve looks up to the sun, feeling the burn on his skin.

“Well, let’s keep moving. They’ll know they’re gone.” Steve turns and the journey began.

Carrying the dog in his arms. Steve needed to get this dog some water. The dog’s mouth foamed out of thirst, the drool dripping down his tongue. Steve glanced behind him to see the whole team helping the refugees.

Clint Barton was their hawk. He had a sharp eye in the team. James was a Colonel in the army and he was one of their gunman. Almost part of the team were from the army. James, Sam and Steve were part of it. 

That’s how Steve and Sam met. 

After that the two somehow ended up in this company. Clint never really told them how he was skilled with bows and arrows. They never asked where he worked before. Sometimes they’d have agents come to the company. One of them was named Phil Coulson, Steve remembered.

But after that, they never returned in a while. 

After hours of walking, they met the river. “We’re not far, now,” Okoye says, Steve looks over. “We cross the river, a few more miles we’ll be there by dark,” She said. Steve looks over and saw the water run down.

His arms lift the dog a bit more. “We keep moving forward,” He says. Steve and Natasha take a step onto the water. The cold water soaking up his pants and shirt as he held onto the dog. They all began to hold onto each other so they don’t lose anyone in the water. He watched them come up one by one.

“Everyone okay?” Steve called. Tony holds up his thumb. After everyone got back on land, they moved forward. The night a growing cold and they looked exhausted. 

Okoye walks on ahead, “We’re here,” He heard her say. He walks up and sees the city. They thought it was some village, but there were buildings. Steve stared in awe. 

They continued forward and reached to the tallest building in the city. “Welcome to Wakanda,” Okoye says. Tony walks next to Steve and pats his back. “Good job, Cap.”

They walked in and a man comes up to them with a grin. “You must be the Stark team,” He says, his accent thick. Tony grins, “You’re T’Challa?”

“King T’Challa,” Okoye corrects, the man looks at her and nods, “Get the others to the medical.” She nods and guides the people to the health bay.

The king looks back, “Thank you for this.” Tony nods. “Yeah. You sure you have anything else?” T’Challa nods, “I’m sure those were the last ones we couldn’t save.”

Natasha smiles, “Thank you for calling us.” T’Challa grins at her but his head tilt. “How will you guys get back to New York?” T’Challa asked. Tony was the one everyone looked at. He looks at them confusingly, “I called Fury, he’s sending a plane over to us in Tanga.”

T’Challa turns his shoulders, “In our gratitude, I can have my men drive you back. Maybe leave in the morning. We can give you food, water?” Steve turns to the group who were all exhausted, covered in dirt and sweat. Steve nods. 

“Okay.”

.

The next morning, the group left the city and drove to Tanga. Steve held the dog in his arms as they went over the bumpy roads and Natasha gazed at him and the dog happily.

“He’s a good dog,” She said. Steve looks down to see the dog in his arms asleep. “He is.” 

Natasha grins. “Are you gonna keep him?”

Steve had his shades on as he glanced up at her, “There’s a lot of homes for him. Not mine.”

Natasha pierced her lips, “Well, you have the next hours to decide. I think he likes you more than anyone.” Steve looks down at the dog and watched the dog’s ears bounce to the trucks movements. Not knowing what the plan is with him.

After the next hours of driving. They reached the runway for planes. Spotting one in the distance. “There’s our ride,” Tony taps the truck, “Tell T’Challa we give him our thanks.” Steve and Natasha walk over to the plane, seeing a woman standing outside.

“Rogers,” She greets, Steve nods. Maria Hill. Natasha smiles, “How’s Fury?” She asked. Maria shrugs, “Doing fine. He’s in Berlin for now. He’s sad he couldn’t be here.”

Natasha grins.

“But you know him, he’s sarcastic about it so he doesn’t really give a shit,” Maria gestures to them, “Hop in.” The team hopped onto the plane and they flew back to New York. After they got there, everyone had a drink.

A celebration for success. Steve had to leave, taking the dog with him. Steve puts him in the truck. 

He goes in the driver’s seat and looks down at the dog who looked at him happily with his injured leg. Steve smiled softly at him, “You dodged a bullet there, bud... I might as well just call you Dodger.” The dog looks up and licks his muzzle.

The man smiled as he drives back home. 

It was around 12 at night and he opened his apartment door. Carrying Dodger in the small room. “All right, buddy.” Steve puts him on his bed.

“Wait here.” Steve walks into the bathroom and stripped out of his dirtied shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror. His chest had grown a few hairs, his face was dirty and the sweat already dirtied on his face.

His hair was oily and it parted a bit. He sighed and turns to the shower. He steps inside after stripping the rest of his clothes. The cold water hitting the top of his head. Running down the curves of his back and chest. 

He felt the relief in it and sighed. 

The howls echoed through the forest and the wolves rush through the brush. Y/N jumps over Bucky with a harsh snort as they reached a trail in the forest. On usual nights Bucky and Y/N would go out and do patrol for a bit. 

Randall wasn’t feeling it today, so they did it this time. Bucky comes to a stop and ruffles his fur, “I smell gasoline,” He sniffs. “Yeah, there’s a freeway not too long from here. Be careful,” Y/N replied.

The two continued on and Y/N jumped onto the hard ground. Her nose caught the ground when she lowers her head. “Y/N!” Bucky barks. The bright lights made her look to her right. A large truck comes into view and she jumps out of the way.

She stumbled on the other side of the road and rolled down in the dirt. Bucky ran across the road and rushed down to her side. “You almost died,” Bucky lowers his head to support hers as she stands back on her paws. “I know. We should head back. The trucker, of course, saw me.”

Y/N ran on ahead and she kept running. It was dark, dangerous. Roman told them to be careful at this time of night. She was panting heavily. Bucky followed a few feet behind. 

He watched her in the distance till she disappears in his sight. And a loud yelp erupts from his friend. He low growls, stopping. The whine erupts from him and there was chatter.

“We got something!” A man shouts. The men walk up to the scrambling and saw the large white hound. “Damn! Look at this big fella!” The two men stood a few feet away from the large dog as it growls at them. 

“I don’t think that’s a normal wolf, Jerry.”

“It’s gotta be a male, usually them dogs are bigger than the females,” The man cackles lightly at the hound. “Hunting season is almost over, Alex and you want to lose this one? I’m sure it’ll make a good use of a rug. Look at the colors. Like snow white.”

The hound growls loudly, it could’ve rumbled the ground. The man shook, “We should just leave it.” The other guy scoffs, “Alex! This a big one, you want to lose it?” The man pulls out his gun and aims it at the hound.

“Sleep tight.” The gun fires and seconds later the man screams in terror. The other man watched as the grey hound pounces on his friend, ripping him in shreds. 

The man scatters off and screams. Bucky looks over to Y/N who was caught in the bear trap as he gave her the soft eyes before leaving her, chasing after the man who ran.

After biting and chewing on the trap, she growls under it. The smell of blood and flesh landed on her taste buds. Her guts getting that familiar feeling. No. She continued to chew on the trap.

The blood oozing out of the man’s throat, she shakes her head to tear the trap off. No! Bucky comes back with blood dripping down his chin. Y/N looks up at him. “You killed them!”

“I did what I had to do.”

“Why did you-!” She growled.

“Because I didn’t want you to die!” His growl was mixed with a whine. She stared at him as he rips the trap open and she limps out. She held her arm up to her chest as she glances at him. 

He snuffles through his muzzle, “I didn’t want to lose you.” She was struck by that. Bucky had to deal with this stuff, too. He almost lost his arm when they caught him in a trap and he fell down a cliff. He was lucky enough to be alive. 

Y/N limps up to him and she nuzzles her head against his. Bucky brought his head over hers and gently licked the back of her white fur before they pulled away. 

“We should go.”

Dodger had been added to the story! Wooh! We needed some more dogs up in here!

Also that Defending Jacob episode has me squealing for no reason. It’s 11 over here and I’m squealing like a high school girl.

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[radrita]

Radical Forgiveness!

Pain like I never knew entered my life on August 23rd, 2018. And believe me when I tell you I've been in pain a lot as a child. When I was three, my mom left my brother and me with our dad and grandpa (his dad). When I say left, I mean, never came back. I should mention when I was 15, I found out my mom lived two miles from me my whole life and had another family, complete with a new husband and 3 kids she raised that I never knew about. I met up with her and spent the rest of my days until she passed away, trying to get her to love and accept me like the children she raised. But that would never happen. When my sister, who was raised by my mom, was told she had cirrhosis of the liver from alcoholism and would succumb to it, my mom wished it was me that was going to die instead. Those words would pervade my soul for a LONG time!We were in some foster homes from the ages of 3 to 5. Then our dad, who was an alcoholic, couldn't take care of us anymore, so we were sent to live in an orphanage, and I remained there for seven years. My brother got to go live with our dad and grandpa when he was around 13. I didn't, and I will explain why. We visited home on weekends and holidays until my dad molested me on a few different occasions between 10 and 12. I finally told someone, and then I wasn't able to see him anymore for several years. It may seem to you that it would have been the rational thing to do. But I already lost my mom, and my dad was all I had left. So, it was very heart-wrenching to tell someone. Also, my grandpa (my dad's dad) would pleasure himself in front of me all the time for several of my early teen years. And when I was pregnant with my daughter, my stepdad tried to get me to give him oral sex. Ugh, no wonder I had men issues.

When I turned 15, I had a chance to live with my dad and grandpa again. My caseworker (I was a ward of the state) had me explain what my dad did to me. I was screaming in my head (no, please don't make me). But she did, and his then-wife blamed me, saying I dressed sexy around him (I was 10 lady, geez), and my dad chose her over me. As a result, I only saw him one time over the next 30 years when his mom died (my grandma), and we saw each other at the funeral. Even though my dad and his wife said they would be in touch with me, they never did. I probably don't need to say that my life took some dark turns through addiction and lots of self-abuse. Ready for the real pain that surpassed even all that excitement?

Here is the story of losing my daughter when she was just 33 and the lengthy voyage through anguish like I've never known! Nicole Marie Cuneo was her birth name, and she was the angel in my life that lit up my whole world. I never knew love like that before she was born. It's like my heart didn't even know how to beat before her. And she was the happiest baby and always smiled. At least until she was about 2, and then something changed in her attitude. I didn't know until she was 5 when I started taking her for counseling that she was sexually abused. It occurred while I was working, and she was in her father's care. I can't even tell you the sick feeling that came over me, and as a result of the changes in her, I would spend years taking her for counseling. It was like I had a different child, and I did. Because when you have something like that happen to you, especially at such a young age, it changes your DNA.

When this beautiful child was twelve, she started on the road to using drugs, and as a family, we would watch her struggle with that for the rest of her days. I should mention that I met a man (a wonderful man) that adopted Nicole and my other daughter Samantha Lynn. And, to this day, he is still the constant, stable man in Samantha's life. For that, I will be forever grateful. There are so many details I'm not covering about this journey because it would become a book. I aspire to keep the focus on the journey to forgiveness, but for now, It's time for me to take a break from writing because it's still too painful for me to focus on the loss for too long…... I'm back after a night that was once again filled with tossing and turning physically and mentally. I mentioned that I also had struggles with addiction, which would plague my life from the time I was in my early thirties, and I still battle it as a 56-year-old. For the most part, I have a program and a higher power that keeps it at bay. Still, as all addicts know, it takes daily commitment contingent on our spiritual condition.

Forgiveness is a term defined in the dictionary as: in a psychological sense, is the intentional and voluntary process by which one who may initially feel victimized, undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding a given offense, and overcomes negative emotions such as resentment and vengeance. So, by this information, it means I wish no ill will on the people in my life that have caused me harm or malice. Phew, let me tell you that I have had numerous times that wasn't the case! Visions and thoughts in my mind had me showing up and shooting the people that hurt my sweet girl.

My daughter, as I mentioned, struggled with addiction, and due to that fact, she had three stints in prison. The last stretch, she was sentenced to six years, and she served all but five days of it. She was about to be free when……two weeks before this, she was pounded in the head on two different occasions —once with soap in a sock and one instance with a payphone. I was told she died from long-term methamphetamine use, and it caused a brain aneurysm. This means she was using the entire time while being incarcerated. Oh God, NO, and please help me was all I could think when I was given that news. It's a complex kind of hell to not know what your child died from, and almost 3 years later, I still don't understand a lot of the details. Was it, in fact, the beatings, or was it the drug use? Prisons aren't forthcoming, as you can probably assume. Did they have something to hide? I'm pretty sure they have plenty to hide! Nicole was a sweet, kind, and caring person. Her nickname in prison was Shine because she always spread Sunshine and tried to keep up everyone's spirits. And she was capable of being that way while incarcerated and having to literally fight for her life.

This leads me to the how and why of my journey to forgiveness. I think I was somehow inspired to forgive from a very young age. When I was a kid, I lived my life feeling like I wasn't of this world because nothing made sense. Meaning, how could so many things go so wrong so early in my life? But I also remember thinking numerous times that people do the best they can, so I didn't judge them. And I felt that way pretty much my whole life and still do. A friend brought to my attention that maybe I didn't forgive people as the dictionary defines. But is it possible I had a twisted understanding of what forgiveness meant? And that perhaps I thought I was excusing people's behavior but that I didn't go through the emotions and changes needed in my heart and soul that were required. And that, in fact, I possibly just didn't love myself enough because of all the trauma I endured, that I just thought I forgave them? In other words, I thought I did, but because I didn't love myself, I was just saying It was ok that they hurt me, and (oh well) life goes on?

Um, no, I do love myself! And believe me, when I tell you, I hurt from those offenses against me to my essence (hence addiction, low self-esteem, and pushing people away for a good part of my life). Radical forgiveness doesn't derive from the belief that it's the right thing to do. Therefore, I'm just going to forgive them. And when I hear people that have lost a loved one to murder say that they are evil or are monsters, it makes me sick to my stomach. I feel we are all humans and connected to the universe and each other. If I genuinely accept that, how could I want someone to be eliminated because of my hatred for them? If you look in someone's eyes (soul), how can you want them to die? I didn't and can't give life, so taking it away is also not an option. I know it's revolutionary thinking because when I talk to most people about this topic, they look at me hastily. I TRULY, in my heart and soul, know that there is NOTHING anyone can do to me or anyone that I couldn't forgive. I also love myself enough to know that I will be the one to suffer if I don't. It's like peeing on yourself and expecting someone else to feel the wetness and embarrassment from it.

I love my daughter with the most heartfelt essence of what love means. I grieve every day that I will never be able to smell her scent, feel her embrace, see people's faces light up when she walks in a room, hear her witty sense of humor. And even miss the fact that she was a pain in my ass because of her addiction. When people ask me how many kids I have, it still throws me for a loop. Initially, if I would not have read a book about it, the response they offered the readers to make would have been incomprehensible. They said to say how many kids you gave birth to and not how many you have now. Thank God I read that book! Because that circumstance and several others I probably would have never known how to manage could have been a moment to drive me literally insane.

I have another daughter and Nicky left us a son, and the last thing on earth I want it's for her to lose me on top of losing her sister. I will never be ok that I will never give Nicky the love I have for her again. But hurting others will never provide those moments back to me!

I want people to know that forgiveness restores your soul and allows you to be of service to others and yourself. Without it, I know I will continue to struggle in life, and she would NOT want that for me. She always said that I was a strong person and that she respected me for that. I can't in good conscience have resentment for the ones that hurt or possibly murdered her. I don't want anyone to suffer pain for their actions. Just learn from them. I believe we all just live according to our experiences and do the best we can with what we have learned thus far in life. The ONLY thing I want to come out of losing her is for change to occur in the justice system. An addict that is imprisoned due to addiction is injustice! I'm not a religious person; I'm spiritual. That means we are all connected and equal and should try our best to understand and comfort those in need. And yes, that includes those with mental illness. After all, addiction is a disease (dis-ease) and is a mental illness and should be treated as such.

I'll close with this; perhaps I can forgive because, in my addiction, I have done so many things I vowed I would never do, and it has been excused too many times to count. This has given me the ability to go on and keep trying to be a better person in my life. As I discussed earlier, as a child, I felt I was able to forgive. I soundly believe part of that is the spirituality (higher power) that has always been and always will be in my life. This story is my endeavor to hopefully help others who struggle with forgiveness. And possibly give them what they need to move on past the judgments and/or stigma. I have struck the wall, cussed God, blasted the people that hurt her, and questioned how I would live another day without her. God help me has and is the continual prayer since the day I lost her. She exists in my heart memory, and I prefer to cherish all of the memories, good and heart-wrenching. Because that is the sum of the person that was given to me. She will forever be my angel. I stated that she was the light in my life and the first love in my life when she was born, and that's why I gave her the nickname Angel. She will eternally be that light, and I choose to not put darkness on that by not being able to pardon. So, if you grapple with forgiving someone, think about the freedom that will thoroughly transform your world and those around you if you can let go! I still struggle with my addiction from time to time, but I know it's a process. Forgiveness is an extraordinary place to start because it empowers me to have the opportunity of growth and faith that life is worth living in all its glory and pain.

[marvelgbt-posts]

you’ve changed

i thought the song goes well with the scene (sw: peter cries) where peter cries so if you wanna play it there, you can :)

Request: Hi I hope your having a good day or night depends on the time your reading this. How about a Peter Parker x Male chubby reader were they dated before thanos snapped his finger and the reader didn't get snapped away and spent the next 5 years living out his life and when peter comes back he finds the reader but their in their 20's and divorced with a kid. Then they try to work things out. It could have angst but have fluffy ending. Maybe the reader waits till peter is olderand ask him to marry

i absolutely l o v e this idea, ty for requesting ^^ it's somewhere after homecoming, but mj already knows about peter, in the first part. The second one would be uh after endgame lol

You weren’t popular amongst your peers. Hell, no one really knew you or your friend group of four. You didn't mind, nothing like that really bothered you all. Michelle was currently using Ned as a reference for another one of her art pieces that would bring some sort of “revelation” to those who viewed it, like the ones you see when browsing your Instagram feed about global warming or species endangerment.

Peter, on the other hand, was working on his new suit upgrades. Behind Mr. Stark’s back, he wanted to make his suit more powerful, especially since his parental lock was taken off - also behind Stark’s back, but he didn't have to know (though, of course, he already did). You were working on school assignments since there was nothing better for you to do anyways. Both you and Peter worked on the floor while MJ had Ned sat on the bed in a position where he looked as if he were murdered.

You glanced over at Peter; he peeked over at you simultaneously, the two of you smiling as a bit of pink made it to both your cheeks. You went back to your respective work, as did Peter.

…

“Peter?” you whispered, careful not to wake MJ and Ned up; MJ next to you on the ground and Ned, snoring on the top mattress of Peter’s bunk bed with an arm and a leg slung over the edge. “Yeah?” he whispered back, equally as cautious. You sat up a little, “I can’t sleep…”

“Yeah, me neither..” he responded.

“Can I, um.. Sleep next to you? Maybe?” you asked shyly, before shaking your head, “nevermind.. That sounds stupid, just forget it.”

“No!” Peter winced, looking up to Ned dangling over the edge of the bunk, before lowering his voice, “No, it’s fine. You can come up here, I don’t mind.”

You carefully slipped out of the blankets you shared with MJ and hopped into bed next to Peter. He was at least a head taller than you, if not half. He awkwardly shifted to the wall, and you felt like cringing. You were always a bit.. soft.. You weren't obese; oh no, you were the average healthy weight, and you could complete the mile somewhere in its required time. It wasn’t like you were unhealthily big, it was just your body shape. You had big thighs and a tummy that would show through shirts that were too tight (for your liking, anyway). Compared to Peter’s secretly toned body, you were like a marshmallow, and you disliked it very, very much.

However, Peter loved it, though he’d never admit it. Sure, you took up a little over half the space, but Peter honestly could care less. You felt him nudge your side, moving to come a bit closer. He was just in boxers and a t-shirt. You had pants and a hoodie, and Peter could just barely feel your body warmth. He looked at you, and you could just barely make out the shape of his eyes, how they looked; begging, big, puppy-like eyes. You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle, “Careful Parker, that’s pretty gay..!” you joked silently. He let out a breathy laugh, “Nothing’s gay about cuddling with your best friend..!” You chuckled, opening your arms for him to come into. He rested his chin on top of your head, wrapping his arms around your upper body while you wrapped your arms around his slim waist.

Like magic, you both found the sleep you’ve been craving so much.

~~~

You watched in fear as half of the people around you began to vanish in clouds of dust. You looked over to MJ, who was accompanying you to a bookshop that had just opened a few days ago. She looked down to her feet, which began to slowly fade away, before looking up at you in fear, “y/n, i–” but she was gone. You tried to grab her hand, her shirt, anything, thinking it would somehow stop what was happening. But you couldn't, if anything it sped up the process. You cried, trying desperately to grasp some of the ashes of one of your best friends before she was gone– to no avail.

Crying there in the streets of New York, watching as people screamed for their loved ones, you curled up into a fetal position, tears streaming down your cheeks. You knew Peter had skipped a school field trip to join Iron man and the other well-known Avengers in whatever was causing this, but you had no idea where Ned was, if he was alright... And, well, you already knew MJ was long gone.

What about your parents? Were they disappearing as well? Quickly, you ran back in the direction of your small Queens apartment, praying to whatever gods were out there that they were safe and unharmed.

~~~

The hallways of Midtown high school were crowded as those who had disappeared from the ‘Snap’ reunited with their friends. No one realized that, for five years, they had all gone missing. Sure, they remembered the process, but for them, it was like taking a five-minute nap rather than a five-year-long one. Peter was almost breathless as he saw MJ and Ned on campus, a wide smile on his face as he jogged up to them, surprising the both of his friends as they all had a moment, hugging, shaking hands, glad that everyone was safe.

Well...

Almost everyone.

“W-Where’s y/n?” Peter asked, looking around to try and find your small and round frame that he missed since he’d left Earth. MJ and Ned shared a look, and Ned bit his lip. “He-... he’s not here..”

Peter choked on his breath, “He died?!”

“What? No, no,” MJ was quick to confirm, waving her arms almost frantically, “He wasn’t uh, what do you call it? Snapped? He stayed here, he grew up.. He’s like, twenty now.”

Peter couldn't believe it. You would’ve been way older than him now! “Tell me you’re kidding, is this a prank?”

MJ shook her head, as well as Ned. No. No, no, no, that can't be true. If it was, were you lost from them? Did you know where they were? He was scared for you, imagining your chubby, short form frightened and worried for everyone's sake. He looked desperately at his two remaining friends, “Do we.. Do you know where he is? His location?”

Ned beamed, “I’m your guy in the chair, of course I know where he is!”

…

Peter was hesitant to knock at your door, knuckles moving towards and then away from the wooden surface. He had to admit, your place was nice, on the outside at least. He could judge the inside once.. If… you answered the door. Once Peter got the courage to finally make his presence known, a few seconds later a child peered through the window. He was surprised, but smiled and waved to the kid. She smiled and waved back, before looking behind her. Peter assumed that was, hopefully, you. The door opened, and Peter had to look up, like, wayyy up. You had gotten taller, and slimmer. Peter noticed you were more built, and he had to stop himself from lowering his gaze and letting his mind melt into the gutter. “Peter..?” you asked, almost dumbfounded at the sight of your high school crush. The little girl from before wrapped her arms around your leg, looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “Daddy, who’s this?”

“Daddy?!” Peter blurted out without thinking. This was all happening so fast. “y/n?” he looked up at your face again, and you nodded. While much had changed about you, he was glad your smile remained the same. Soft and bright and infectious.

“Yep, this is my daughter, say hi honey,” you looked down at your daughter, who shyly waved and grinned at Peter. She has your smile, Peter thought to himself.

Wait, if this was your kid, that meant.. You were married? He couldn't imagine it, the thought of it. The life he imagined so many times over and over in his head, about what life would be like with you in the future, ruined because of some giant purple alien with a lack of brain cells and the face of an avocado’s backside, and a woman he didn’t know of.

“Peter, would you like to come in? I bet you have questions..?” you asked, and Peter shook his head to get out of his thoughts, before nodding, “Yes, please.” Here you two were, speaking formally as if you were business partners. You invited him inside, and your daughter moved to the couch, taking a small, pink, fluffy bunny into her arms as she sat down. “Emily,” you said sternly, making Peter flinch, “What did we say about shoes on the couch?”

The girl, Emily, promptly removed her velcro slip-on shoes before looking to her father, who smiled in approval, “Good girl!” She smiled, and Peter giggled as he sat himself on the couch. You sat on the opposite side of him, your daughter moving from next to Peter, to your lap. You sat her on your knee as she played quietly with her bunny stuffed toy.

“So, you, uhh, grew up?” Peter asked awkwardly, and you chuckled bitterly, “yeah, haha.”

“You’ve changed,”

“Five years does that to you, I guess,”

“This your daughter?”

“Yep. Emily. She’s three.”

‘That means you had her around, what, junior year? y/n, I didn’t know you had it in you…!’ Peter joked to himself in his mind. But there was a burning feeling in his stomach. This domestic lifestyle; a quiet house, a child, and later on he found out you had a german shepherd named Skittles (Emily had named him). He wanted this life for so long, ever since he realized his feelings for you, with you. But you had lived a life without him, not that he blamed it on you.

After an hour or two of recalling the last five years of your life to Peter, including meeting Amanda, your ex-wife, and having Emily, it was time for him to leave.

“It was nice talking to you again, Peter,” you said shyly, another thing that hadn’t changed, thankfully. He bit his lip, lingering on your porch a bit, “Uh, hey.. y/n..?”

“Yeah?”

“So.. you aren’t with your ex-wife anymore, right?”

“Yep, no contact, nothing,” you were holding Emily in your arms, resting her on your hip. You could see conflict in Peter’s eyes, so you let her down and shooed her off playfully to go entertain herself with toys. She obeyed, and you turned to Peter, who looked up at you with glossed eyes. You felt your breath hitch, “Peter.. What- are you okay?”

He nodded, biting his lip, before shaking his head, “no, no I’m not okay! You grew up, you have a life now.. I didn’t even get the chance to be a part of it.. You– I loved you! I still do..” he cried, wiping his tears as he sobbed. You looked down at him, and you couldn’t help but sigh. He was still a child, of course. He hadn’t matured at all, since he’d basically been frozen in time. He was still the same childish teenager you knew five years ago. “Peter..” you whispered soothingly, wrapping your arms around him. It was now your turn to rest your chin on his head like he would do all those nights in freshman year. You held him in a protective embrace, and he just held onto your back, gripping at the fabrics of your t-shirt. You shushed him, “Peter, it's okay, I’m here..”

“But you’ve outgrown me! You’ve lived your life, you have a daughter, you got married, all without me! I wanted to be the person you could count on, the one you would go to sleep and wake up to at night, someone you loved, but instead.. I-.. you…” he didn’t know how to finish his sentence, instead crying into your shoulder. “Peter, I understand..” You whispered, “I loved you, too, I still do.. It’s just.. Our age gap now, I don’t think we can make it work now..”

Petr let out a shaky breath, nodding, “Yeah… I’m sorry,” he said, and you shook your head, “You don't have to apologize, none of this is your fault…”

Peter looked to your chest, still holding tightly onto you, before he perked up, looking up at your eyes, “Wait, y/n, I think.. Could you… What if I graduated? Wait no, that didn’t come out right.”

You chuckled. Peter shook his head, “no, listen to me. I know I’m five years younger than you now, but.. If I came back after graduating high school, when I’m older, would you be willing to, I dunno, make it work?” You thought for a minute, biting your lip, “Maybe… it would give us enough time to.. Catch up, fully…” the look on Peter’s face, it made you melt.

~~~

Ever since that day, Peter had been visiting you and Emily almost every day. Emily became used to him a few weeks in, now looking forward to her favorite visitor to knock on the door. She would open it and squeal, “Uncle Petey!” and Peter would always carry her when he walked in, without ail, and lift her up and make her giggle. The fact that Peter was treating your young like one of his own, it made you fall even more in love.

One day, you and Emily were in the kitchen, finishing up homework for her first-grade class. She huffed, “This English stuff sucks! I’d rather do math, and be super brain smart like Uncle Peter,” she said, crossing her arms. You sighed, and a giggle came from the doorway of the kitchen. You looked behind you to see Peter leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, “English is important too, kid,” he said, sitting next to Emily, across from you. He was eighteen now and on his way to a promising college. He had a lot of responsibilities already, with his senior grades coming to an end and taking up half of Stark Industries with Pepper. You were proud of him, to say the least.

“In order to be super smart,” you said, “you have to be well-rounded. That includes English, young lady. Come on, it can’t be that hard,” you took a look at her paper, “Oh shit, wait this is hard.”

Peter and Emily gasped, “Language!” they said at the same time, making the three of you giggle. “y/n, I have something to ask you,” Peter said, glancing at Emily, “privately.”

Emily sighed, exasperated, “What?! Why can’t I know?!” she whined, kicking her legs a little. You chuckled, ruffling her hair a bit, “Get to finishing that homework, kid, we’ll be right back.” Emily pouted but got to work regardless.

“What is it Peter?” you asked once the two of you made it to the living room. Peeter looked into your eyes, he had grown taller, almost as tall as you now. “So, uh, I talked with Mrs. Stark, about things… I uh, I think I’m gonna move into the Stark Tower, focus on my studies there, help Pepper with running the Industry and prepare Morgan. She’s seven now, you know, just a year younger than Emily... They’d be great friends.. Emily likes math, Morgan is a science buff, like her dad.. Uh,”

“Peter, what are you getting at?” you asked, a small grin forming on your lips. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m getting at- uh, what I’m trying to say, what I’m asking is if, you and Emily would like to stay with me in the Tower? It would be easier for us to see each other.. And Morgan would love Skittles, and Emily, she wouldn’t be lonely when she comes home. Morgan is homeschooled at the moment, they could both be homeschooled together so they aren’t lonely, you know? A-And–”

“Peter,” you cut him off as he began rambling. He looked up at you, clearly shaken and desperately awaiting your response. You smiled, “Of course, I'd be happy to move in with you. But I might reconsider the whole ‘homeschool’ thing. I want Emily to be raised normally. She’s smart, sure, but she still needs school. Homeschool, we can think about when she’s older.”

Peter grinned, hugging you, “Of course! We can do that!” he giggled, and you heard a cheer come from behind the two of you. You turned around, a scowl on your face as you saw Emily, not doing homework. “Emily! Why aren't you finishing your English homework?”

She blushed, “The kitchen and the living room are right next to each other! How could I not overhear..?” she paused a moment before speaking up, “Are we really gonna live at Stark Tower..?” You sent Peter a look, and he smiled and nodded, “Mhm! Right next door to Uncle Pete!” Emily was ecstatic, and that was an understatement.

~~~

An eleven-year-old Morgan and ten-year-old Emily were playing Wii Sports in the lounge, Morgan purposefully losing to Emily since she had been winning too easily the last few rounds. She was treating Emily exactly like a younger sister, and it warmed your heart as much as the coffee you held warmed your hands. Emily cheered, having won another Tennis match. Morgan faked sighed, “Huff, that doesn’t make sense, you’re cheating!” she playfully shoved Emily, and they both giggled. Eventually, Pepper came into the room, “Morgan,” she called sweetly, and both daughters looked up, “it’s time for you and Emily to head to bed.” The girls groaned but nonetheless followed directions.

You nodded over to Pepper, “I’m gonna head to my room now, got some work to do,” to which Pepper responded with a nice, “alright, sweet dreams y/n.” You waved goodbye and made your way to your room.

…

You were covered in your bedsheets, warm and on the verge of falling asleep when a knock came from your door. You sat up, a groggy and sort of annoyed “Come in,” emitting from the depths of your throat. Peter came in, a little embarrassed, you could tell, that he had disturbed you at this hour, “y-y/n, can I come in? I.. can’t sleep,” he admitted, looking at his bare feet. You yawned, not being able to stay mad at him, and nodded, patting the space next to you. No longer had you filled up more than half the space in the bed like you had 5 years ago, Peter noticed, beginning to miss those times when you did and feeling a little bitter that he had missed so much time with you.

You took initiative and wrapped your arms around Peter’s shoulders, bringing him into your now toned chest. Peter went red; you could feel the heat of his face against your skin. Peter wrapped his arms shyly around your waist. He was twenty-two now, and you were twenty-seven. It didn’t seem like much of an age gap now as it had seven years ago. He bit his lip, should he ask now?

After a few minutes of conflict, Peter opened his mouth to speak, until he realized you had… already fallen asleep.

‘Great,’ Peter sighed, ‘The one time I manage to muster up the courage to ask, and he’s asleep.’

…

Another few months had passed. You were in the kitchen, going through your phone while making another cup of coffee for yourself, before you felt Peter wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his head in between your shoulder blades. “Good morning, handsome~” you teased, to which earned a groan in response. You had been dating for around four or five months, but it honestly felt like longer. Well, of course you were dating before making it official, you yourselves just didn’t know it yet, but pepper sure knew, as well as morgan, Emily, May, Happy, and everyone else you knew.

‘Today is the day,’ you thought to yourself, handing Peter a cup of coffee as he opened up his tablet to begin working on lab assignments. He thanked you and you kissed his cheek, before leaving the kitchen to the lounge, sitting on the couch while waiting for Peter to join you. ‘Today’s the day,’ you repeated the thought, ‘I’m going to ask him, today’s the day.’ Peter eventually joined you and you cuddled for the whole day, Peter finishing his assignments all the while.

You checked your watch, sighing, “Pete, I gotta go pick up Emily,” you said, kissing his cheek and nudging him off you. He whined, “If we homeschooled Emily, you wouldn’t have to worry about picking her up!” he whined, and you had to hold back a laugh. Peter had picked up Emily’s habit of whining. You swore she was becoming more like Peter’s child every day.

…

Peter began sleeping with you since you two began dating. It helped Peter with stress from work and his recurring nightmares of Tony’s death. It also helped you, since you had trouble sleeping as well. One night, however, as you both were staying up late talking and kissing, a hesitant knock came at your door. You looked to each other before Peter sat up to allow whoever was knocking to come in. It was Emily and Morgan. “Hey girls,” you sat up, voice calm and soothing, “What’s wrong?”

Morgan spoke up, “Mom’s out of the tower right now and the storm outside is scaring us,” she admitted, and Emily nodded her head. You cooed, and Peter opened his arms for the two children to come into. They climbed into bed, sleeping in between you and Peter. Emily had her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she hugged you. Morgan had her back against Peter, who was sleeping on his side, petting her hair gently. The two of you were shirtless, but warm from the blanket, and the girls loved it.

A loud crack of thunder scared them both, and Emily clung onto you. You looked at Peter, who had the same look of sympathy as you. You sighed softly and began humming a tune from a song you’d heard once, calming the kids down until their eyes began to droop closed. Eventually, they were sound asleep against the two of you. You smiled, seeing as Peter was beginning to look a bit tired as well. “Pete,” you whispered, careful not to wake the girls, “Mh?” he responded tiredly. You played with Emily’s hair lovingly, running your hands through her h/c locks, the ones she inherited from you. “Emily really loves you, y’know?” Peter smiled, “That’s good to hear,” he said with a yawn.

“Yeah, she really looks up to you, kinda makes me jealous,” you admitted. Peter leaned forward, not wanting to crush Morgan. “Hm? Yeah.. I can tell she wants to follow in my footsteps, but it’s scary. If I mess up, she might too, you know what I mean?” Peter looked down at Emily, “I don't wanna be the villain in her storybook.”

You brushed Emily’s bangs out of her face, nodding, “Welcome to my life. It’s been hard ever since I divorced her mother. I don’t recall ever telling you this, but her mother was an alcoholic, which is why I left her and took Emily with me. She was never physical, but yelled at Emily a lot, even though she was only two years old.” Peter nodded in understanding, “That.. I’m sorry about that,” he said, looking up at you. You shook your head, “Don’t be. It’s in the past, and Emily hardly remembers any of it now… but, her looking up to you, reminds me of how she’d normally look up to a parent..”

Peter flushed red, “But, I’m just her uncle…”

“You don’t have to be,” you said immediately after, and Peter looked as if he would cry, “y/n, don't tell me y-you’re..”

“Peter, I think... I think I want to marry you, have the life Emily and I never got to have with Amanda. I know it won't be exactly the same, seeing as we’re both men. But I know Emily won't mind, and honestly, that’s all that I think should matter..” you looked up at Peter to see him crying, “Oh, god, no Peter don't cry..!” you said but he just shook his head, before biting his lip and nodding, “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then yes,” he said, a little choked.

…

The next morning, you broke the news to Pepper, who was a little more than excited. You then told May, who threatened you with your life, going on about how if you ever broke Peter’s heart she’d blah blah blah. You laughed at Peter's embarrassed face. Happy could have cared less, mumbling an “It’s about time, jeez”. Then, you told Emily, who took a second to process it before she jumped up and hugged you both, kicking and jumping around and just being a happy little ray of sunshine. You and Peter could say– without a doubt– her reaction, her happiness, that was what was most important, what made it all worth it. Time really has changed you and Peter both, and it was safe to assume you both wanted to keep it that way.

[fridayfirefly]

Lost and Found [Part Seven]

Masterlist | Ao3

People always assumed that Adrien had a soulmate. After all, he was the sunshine child, the light of his parents' lives. He brightened up every room he walked into. His Mother always told him that one day he would get a soulmate of his own. He was still young, and age gaps in soulmate pairs didn't necessarily mean anything nefarious. But as he got older and older, his Mother's words felt more and more worthless. And then his Mother left. Without his soulmate, his Father grew cold and distant and no longer seemed to see Adrien as anything other than one of his models.

Adrien's sunshine faded. He didn't have a Soulmate. He didn't need a Soulmate. He didn't want a Soulmate.

To the media, his parents were a love story. But Adrien knew better. He remembered the day his Mother disappeared. He was eleven and his parents were screaming in the foyer after a dinner party. Mother yelled that she was taking the keys and leaving, and Adrien felt guilty that he was relieved that she wasn't taking him with her. She was a reckless driver when she was mad. The next morning, Mother wouldn't pick up the phone. Father called and left a message, saying every swear word ever invented in the process. But Mother never called back. The morning after Father called the police. It took them three weeks to find Mother's car. 100 miles south of Paris, abandoned on the side of the road, hidden by trees. A week later, his Father was already planning the funeral.

Adrien begged his Father to keep searching. But his Father refused. He put the household on lockdown, claiming that someone had murdered Emilie Agreste, someone who was targeting the Agreste family. He fired his personal assistant, a young woman named Hannah. Adrien adored her, because she treated Adrien like family, rather than like a job. Taking Hannah's place was Nathalie Sancoeur. She handled Adrien like he was a disobedient puppy, who needed to be trained to follow rules. She was an icy dagger to Adrien's heart, a reminder that all of the warmth in his life was gone.

It took months before Adrien finally started to fight back. With only one ally at his side, the only friend his Father had ever let him make, Adrien turned to Chloé Bourgeoise for help. Together they created a plan. It consisted of one major step. Adrien would be going to public school for now on.

The logistics were a little more difficult to figure out, but Chloé had never backed down from a challenge before. Registering Adrien for school without parental consent was difficult, but Collège Françoise Dupont was well known for the incompetence of their administration. It only took Chloé ten minutes and two threats of Mayoral intervention to convince the principal of Françoise Dupont to enroll Adrien, placing him into the same classes as Chloé. With all the pieces in place, the only thing Adrien had left to do was show up to school. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the hardest part.

The night before his first day, Chloé called Adrien to video chat. She made him promise that no matter what his Father did or said, he would try his hardest to come to school. Adrien made the promise. It would turn out to be a mistake.

Getting to school ended up being too difficult a challenge. Nathalie stopped him on the stairs leading up to the doors of the school, mere feet from freedom. "Adrien, I would advise you to reconsider. Your Father has made up his mind on this."

"But..." Adrien began a rebuttal, but it faded when he caught sight of an older man with a cane struggling to get to his feet. "One moment," said Adrien as he rushed to the man's side and helped him up. 

"Thank you, young man," said the man, who began to walk off in the other direction.

Adrien returned to Nathalie, who stared him down impassively. "Continue."

"I just want to go to school like everybody else. What's so wrong with that?"

"Get in the car." Nathalie's order was not a suggestion. As Adrien looked into her cold eyes he knew that there would be hell to pay if he disobeyed her. His Father's short temper combined with Nathalie's apathy would lead to nothing but pain. Adrien had already lost so much. He didn't want to lose the little he had left.

"Please don't tell my Father about all this," begged Adrien.

Nathalie sighed noncommittally as she held the car door open for him. Tears pricked the corners of Adrien's eyes. It seemed like everything in his life went wrong.

Adrien had always been eager to please. He would always be willing to do anything for the people he cared about. But in his efforts to please his Father, he hurt Chloé, and for one fleeting moment, Adrien couldn't remember what it was that was keeping him tied down to Earth. Why didn't he just leave, follow in his Mother's footsteps and abandon the world he knew.  It would be so easy to hop on a bus, to find some middle-of-nowhere town and disappear, to become someone else. Adrien had always hated modeling. He never wanted to be treated like a spectacle. Yet all those thoughts were brushed aside in the time it took Adrien to blink. He couldn't just leave. Not when he had Chloé waiting for him.

"You are not going to school," Adrien's Father snapped as soon as Adrien stepped through the door. "I've already told you this once before."

"But Father-" Adrien protested.

"Everything you need is right here, where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in that dangerous world."

"It's not dangerous. I'm always stuck inside, all by myself. Why can't I go to school with Chloé?"

"Chloé Bourgeoise has proven herself to be a terrible influence on you. I will not have you meeting with her any longer."

"But Father-" Adrien cringed back, tears pricking his eyes.

"You are my son, and you will follow my rules as such. Nathalie, continue Adrien's lessons." His Father stormed out of the entryway, and Adrien left to go to his room.

"Adrien, your lessons await."

"I'll be back downstairs in a couple minutes," Adrien mumbled as he all but sprinted up to his room. Slamming his door behind him, Adrien collapsed onto his bed with a groan. He had texted Chloé in the car, letting her know that he wouldn't be able to come to school after all. She was distraught, but at his Father, rather than at him. He couldn't even imagine how upset she would be when she learned that she wouldn't be allowed to come over to his house anymore.

Adrien: Chloé, I'm really sorry. My Father doesn't want you coming over to my house anymore. He thinks you're a bad influence on me. I don't think I'll be able to change his mind.

The tears started to fall immediately after Adrien sent the text. What his Father was doing wasn't fair, but Adrien didn't know how to fix the mess his Mother had left behind. As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he started to feel the ground shake beneath him.

The next half-hour passed by in a whirlwind. His life was changed irrevocably. Chloé was akumatized, turned into a monster whose only goal was to liberate Adrien from his Father's clutches. Adrien found a magic ring that gave him the thing he wanted most in the world - freedom. Along with the ring came Plagg, the world's most gluttonous God of Destruction.

"Now you can't tell anyone that you're Chat Noir. The Miraculous of Destruction is too powerful to fall into the wrong hands."

"Okay," Adrien agreed.

"All you have to do to transform is say 'Claws out!'" explained Plagg.

"Got it. Plagg, claws out!" The ring glowed green as Adrien began to transform. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. It took only a few moments, but it felt almost devoid of time. Afterward, he felt completely changed. His human senses had been amplified, and the whole world felt different. Adrien glanced in his mirror and gasped. "What in the world?" He was now clad in a black leather bodysuit, with a black mask covering his face. His ordinary human eyes had been transformed into those of a cat. "This is so weird."

Another rumble of the ground underneath his distracted Adrien from his awe. "Oh, right. I have to go save Paris." He opened a window and without even glancing behind him, Adrien left the confines of his home behind. "Liberté, here I come."

——————————————————————

Adrien liked working with Ladybug. Despite Plagg's very limited explanation of Adrien's new powers and Ladybug's tendency to trip over her own feet when she got nervous, the duo freed Chloé from the akuma in record time. It broke Adrien's heart, seeing Chloé sprawled out on the ground, looking dazed and confused. His best friend had her life ripped apart, and it was his fault. All because Adrien didn't make it to school. All because Adrien wasn't able to disobey his Father.

"What's going on? What am I doing here?" Chloé asked.

Before Adrien could answer her questions, his ring began to beep. 

"We both need to get going. Our identities must remain a secret." Ladybug advised.

Adrien glanced over at Chloé, who was picking herself up off the ground, brushing grass stains off of her white pants. "I suppose you're right. I'll see you again soon, Ladybug." Adrien dashed away, his newfound abilities as Chat Noir allowing his to vault out of the stadium in three jumps.

He returned home, exhausted, and collapsed onto his bed. The transformation ran out before he could remember how to detransform manually.

"I demand camembert." Plagg flew around his room, throwing a tantrum the instant the transformation ran out.

"I'll go down to the kitchens." As Adrien walked down the stairs, he glanced over at the picture of his Mother. She looked so calm and reserved in the portrait, nothing like Adrien remembered. Emilie Agreste was a whirlwind. She lived every day like it was her last. She was the most impulsive person Adrien had ever met. Once, she dragged Adrien out of bed at five in the morning so that they could drive to Belgium to have authentic Belgian waffles for breakfast. Father was furious, but Mother didn't care. She promised Father over the phone that she would never do it again, with a smirk on her face that told Adrien everything he needed to know about his Mother's promises.

Adrien stared at his Mother's portrait, and made up his mind. Come hell or high water, he would be going to school tomorrow.

With a wheel of camembert cheese in hand, Adrien came back into his room ready Plagg to descend on him.

"Cheese!" Plagg cheered as he dove at Adrien.

Adrien pulled the cheese away from Plagg. "Not yet. You don't get cheese until you answer some of my questions."

"Fine," Plagg groaned. "One question, then I get the cheese."

Adrien already had a question in mind. "Did you only choose me because I don't have a Soulmate. That way I don't have any distraction, and I can't lose the miraculous."

Plagg's rolled his eyes. "You humans are so self-centered. You can't lose your miraculous because you don't own your miraculous. I'm just letting you borrow it for your silly hero duties."

"Then why did you choose me?"

"Because you have a good heart, kid. Because you know the difference between right and wrong. Because you're willing to go the extra mile in order to make things right in the world. There isn't any reason in particular, except that you're the best person for the job."

"Thanks, Plagg."

"Now give me my camembert before I take it from you by force."

——————————————————————

Adrien snuck out of the house that morning, having already resolved that he would be there for Chloé, no matter what. Unfortunately, he didn't even make it to his classroom before Chloé transformed back into Liberté. Adrien heard the screams as he walked down the hallway and broke out into a run towards the nearest empty classroom. "Plagg, claws out!"

Chat Noir and Ladybug had a much tougher time defeating Liberté the second time around. It took two exhausting hours before Ladybug resorted to using her lucky charm, which gave her a one hundred pound weight. "What do I do with this?" Ladybug asked, but Adrien could already see the wheels turning in her head. She quickly explained to him the plan: pulley the weight onto Liberté's scale in order to launch the book off, then destroy the book with Chat's cataclysm. Adrien was glad that he would be able to put his cataclysm to good use, especially after his mishap the day prior when he accidentally used it before the battle even started.

In only a few moments, the battle was won. Adrien held Chloé's book, the copy of Pride and Prejudice that her Soulmate gave to her. As Chloé's best friend, Adrien was the one person who Chloé had told everything about her Soulmate to. Adrien knew that Chloé was asexual. He knew that when she was twelve-years-old she gained a Soulmate who was already well into adulthood. He knew about the cigarettes and bullets and condoms she found in the beginning. He helped Chloé write her first note to her Soulmate. He was there when she got the book in return, an apology gift from her Soulmate.

Adrien walked up to Chloé, offering her a hand to pull her back up onto her feet.

"Thank you," said Chloé, staring at Adrien with realization in her eyes.

Adrien tried to keep his facial expression blank, though internally he was panicking. How could Chloé already have figured out that he was Chat Noir? "You're welcome, uh, Mademoiselle. And here is your book."

"Thanks." Chloé stared down at the tattered cover of the book like it held the secrets to the universe.

"I'm going to head home Ladybug, before I detransform," said Chat. In reality, he wanted to get  away from Chloé before she decided to confront him right then and there.

"Goodbye!"  Ladybug smiled at him, and in another world, Adrien would have fallen in love with her. But after everything he had been though, Adrien didn't particularly want to fall in love. He didn't want a story-book romance. He didn't want the love story his parents had.

Adrien wanted friends. Adrien wanted more people like Chloé in his life, more people who were willing to help him, no matter what the cost. But first, Adrien needed to talk to Chloé. He had promised Plagg that he wouldn't reveal his identity to anyone, but maybe there were some promises that needed to be broken.

——————————————————————

"Thanks for coming to school today," Chloé said. They were both in the library for third period when Chloé had grabbed him and dragged him to a secluded spot in the back of the library.

"My Father's going to be disappointed in me, but that's not much of a change. He's never been proud of me, no matter what I do."

Chloé hugged him, then whispered in his ear in a faux-serious voice,"I'll help you hide the body."

Adrien let out a laugh and then shook his head. "I know you would, Chloé. How are things between you and J.T."

"He sent me a note this morning." Chloé pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pants pocket. "Dear Soulmate. What's your favorite type of cookie? (I happen to know a very good baker who is currently taking requests)"

"I assume you told him chocolate chip."

"You know me so well." Chloé's playful expression turned serious. "I know you very well too. That's how I know that you're Chat Noir."

"I'm not-" Adrien began to protest, but Chloé cut him off.

"You don't need to argue with me. It's not going to work."

"But-"

"I'm not going to tell anyone. I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk."

Adrien blinked a tear out of his eye. "Thank you, Chloé. Thank you for always being there for me."

"You're welcome." Chloé stood up, then pulled Adrien up to his feet as well. 

"Now c'mon. I have this friend named Marinette who I think you would like."

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