#and then they realize none of the lightning bolts are hitting anything important

[hotchseyebrows]

that's my heart right there

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: hi beloveds :) today i present this happy and soft morcia fic that i wrote in practically one go last night. who needs wips when you can just ignore them all blatantly for new works? thank you as always to @blkantigone for providing another set of eyes, love you lots! love you all too, thank you for reading!

rating/warnings: teens and up, allusions to sex but none on screen, mostly just gooey marshmallowly fluff!

read it on ao3 here!

The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

-

A post Exit Wounds fic where Kevin doesn't exist and Clooney the dog is much more important to the narrative. They're in love and finally doing something about it.

word count: 2311

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia.”

He thinks about it the whole plane ride back from Alaska. When they board, she gently tugs him to the big couch before sitting directly next to him. He drops his arm around her shoulders instinctually, smiling as she hums and pulls out her knitting. She smells like honey and rain (the respective scents of her shampoo and conditioner and her body wash) and has picked a warm color gradient for her outfit and makeup today. She babbles about her knitting group’s latest gossip for a while as he relaxes into her side.

She seems like her normal relaxed and bubbly self, but he can feel the tension in her shoulders. Their early conversation was comforting, but her worries are still weighing on her. But he doesn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone, so he just kisses her temple and tugs her closer. “So wait baby girl, is Jared going to ask out Francisco or not?”

“I don’t know! I asked him about it before we left and he dodged giving me a straight answer. I think he’s worried about their friendship, but it’s SO obvious that Francisco is wild about him. They’re already best friends, so- he’s just being silly. I told him that.”

The conversation moves on, but Penelope’s friends join the merry-go-round of thoughts in his head for the rest of the flight. They stay close for the remaining 8 hours, usually with some form of physical contact even as they adjust positions over the long trip home. Derek focuses on making her laugh as much as possible and trying to make her blush all at once.

When they land at home after almost 9 hours on the jet, the sun is setting. The team is obviously tired, but in relatively good spirits as they exit the plane. Derek is last, just behind Penelope. The sky is full of the same colors on Penelope’s clothes today, he realizes as they walk across the airfield. “It’s good to be back,” she says, pulling her shawl tight. “I miss you when you go but it’s… easier on me in some ways not to be there.”

It makes him pause, slowing to a stop. Penelope walks further ahead but notices he’s not there and stops herself. She looks over her shoulder at him, waiting. The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

-

They don’t dance. This part is unusual. Instead it’s 4 drinks in each at a quiet bar close to Derek’s apartment, and they are glued to each other’s side on the same side of a table in a corner booth. This place doesn’t even have a dance floor. 

She leans against his side, nosing at his neck. “You smell good,” she mumbles. He wraps an arm around her, feeling shaky like a ship in a storm.

“Baby girl, is this-” He pauses, not sure what the question should be. Not sure of the answer she’ll give. Penelope picks her head up to look at him, cheeks flushed. Derek swallows. “Am I imagining things, or…” 

“You’re not imagining things.” She leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I feel it too.” He grins and pulls her in for a proper kiss. They fall into it easily, as if it isn’t the first time. The first time it really means what it’s meant to. It feels like they’ve been together for years- and in some ways, that’s not untrue.

-

He brings her home. It’s late, and they’ve had a long case and now a long night, so he knows she’s tired. Still, she stops to drop to her knees to hug Clooney when he comes barreling out of Derek’s bedroom at the sound of them entering the apartment.

“Oh, hello sweetie, hi there, yes, I know, it’s so exciting when Daddy comes home, but it’s even more exciting when he brings me to visit, I know-” Clooney agrees with a quiet woof- “see, Derek, Clooney said I’m his favorite.”

Derek smiles at the way his best girl gets along with his big goof of a dog. “He’s got good taste.” He doesn’t mean the words to come out so weighted, but she looks up at him with such a reverent look on her face that he doesn’t care.

She stands up and drags him through his apartment, Clooney hot on their heels. They get ready for bed at the same time as if they’ve done this domestic routine every night for ages. She won’t stop looking at him like she loves him. Like she cherishes him. He believes her.

She pulls him into his bed, arranging their bodies close together. They don’t do anything more than kiss with their arms wrapped around each other. She falls asleep first with her head on his chest. It makes him feel warm. They shared a bed in Alaska too, and now he’s thinking about not wanting the streak to end. He pulls her closer for the moment, the places where her soft skin is touching his own shooting little bolts of lightning through him as he falls asleep too.

-

Penelope makes breakfast. He takes Clooney on a run, slipping out of bed when she’s still asleep and kissing her forehead before he goes. When he comes back, she’s in his robe, standing over the stove. He’s sweaty and hot, but she yanks him into a kiss anyway. After the eggs burn a little, he pulls away and takes a quick shower. She’s waiting at the table, coffee made and Clooney napping at her feet. The food is delicious, but sitting here with her like this is better. She tastes like coffee when he kisses her over the table.

Someone surely would have noticed Penelope in the same outfit again today, but over the years so much of her clothing has ended up hanging in Derek’s closet next to his own that she’s able to pick out a full outfit for the day. Today her dress is frilly and bright green. He picks out a darker green shirt to match- just because he can.

-

They drop into this new routine easily. Their flirtatious phone calls now have this added layer of promise and intent, even if they haven’t made good on it yet. She’s always been the primary person to stop in and take care of Clooney while Derek’s on cases, but now he comes home and she’s still there. His two best loves, sitting on his couch. He gets home after a case with hidden cameras and is feeling particularly exposed over it all. But there she is, smiling up at him, because she missed him. Because she wanted to see him.

“Hi there,” she says. He crosses the room and lifts her off the couch, holding her against him. She follows his lead with ease, trusting him implicitly. His arms wrap around her waist. He can literally feel her breathing like this, and he’s never been so grateful that she’s alive. “Hi,” she whispers again.

“Hi baby.” He nuzzles the side of her head, breathing in the soft honey scent of her hair. 

She doesn’t ask what’s got him all worked up. She just wraps her arms around his neck and lets him hold her. After a minute or two of just swaying in place, he leans in and presses their lips together. A gentle kiss at first, but quickly his desire for closeness, to feel her, bleeds into that too. He lifts her legs off the ground and puts them around his waist. Penelope makes a noise close to a whine in the back of her throat, pushing closer. He carries her to his room, kissing her fiercely all the while.

-

Afterwards, she’s lying on top of him with her head on his chest. Derek runs his fingers through her hair, gently untangling anything he comes across. “I’m glad you’re home,” she says, slightly muffled by her mouth’s position against his skin.

It sounds like she means that this is their home. Or that she is his home. 

“Me too.” He pulls her up for another slow kiss. She climbs up on top of him, straddling his hips. Her hands cup his cheeks before running down his chest. He keeps the kiss slow, and she kisses back with ease. Like they’re in love.

-

Derek is in the break room, making another cup of coffee. Emily slides next to him, a coffee stirrer in her teeth. “You seem happy.”

Derek looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a nice day, Prentiss.” Emily deliberately looks at where the rain outside is hitting the window. Derek doesn’t back down.

“Whoever you’ve been dating must be a hell of someone. That’s good.”

Derek can’t help but smile. She really is.

“But I want more information sooner than later, Morgan.”

He hums, and picks up Penelope’s coffee cup from the rack. He takes his time filling it before looking at Emily pointedly. 

She pauses and then grins. “I fucking knew it. I knew it!” Derek smiles back. “You better take care of her, I swear to God-”

“I will. I am.”

She softens. “She better take care of you too.”

He picks up both mugs. “She does.”

-

He’s never felt like this in a relationship before. Being with Penelope is easy. It’s just the same as it was, but better and more. She stops by his office a little more, and he swings by the batcave more often than he needs to, but no one notices. It’s just part of the normal Morgan-Garcia antics everyone expects. 

She does take full advantage of this and is definitely getting kissed more often than anyone else at Quantico during the day, but Derek doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

-

They’re sitting on a park bench at the edge of the dog park and watching Clooney run himself ragged through the grass. She puts her head on his shoulder. “Francisco asked Jared out a few days ago.”

“I thought you said Jared was the one who was thinking about asking out Francisco.”

“Francisco got tired of waiting.”

He nods. “I know the feeling,” he says before kissing the top of her head.

-

After they find Ellie’s mom, Derek can’t shake this weird mixture of happy and sad in the middle of his chest. Penelope comes over unprompted with a plate of cookies and a stack of dvds. They lay on the couch, her holding him and Clooney with his head on Derek’s thigh. They don’t talk about it then, but they will later. For now she traces a pattern on his side as Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter kidnap a baby. Clooney starts snoring. Penelope kisses Derek’s shoulder, arms holding him tight.

-

They show up together to a little party at Rossi’s. Emily sees them holding hands and grins. No one else notices that, but they do notice when Penelope pulls Derek down into a kiss after he gets her another drink.

“Thank you, mon amour. You’re my hero.”

He laughs. “Anything for you baby girl.” He taps the tip of her nose in punctuation. She pulls him in for another short kiss in response.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” says Rossi.

Emily is grinning widely. Spencer and JJ have matching excited and pleased looks. Hotch has this knowing look on his face. Derek raises an eyebrow at him specifically. Hotch just looks back with the softest smile on his face. He should have known Hotch would have noticed.

“Hold on, does that mean what I think it does or is this something you two are just doing now?” Spencer asks.

Derek looks down at Penelope. “Yes.”

The team laughs. “Yes to which part?”

“Yes,” Penelope says.

Spencer scrunches his nose at her. She giggles. “Yes, as in, it means what you think it does, pretty boy.”

Spencer claps his hands together, swinging them back and forth a little. “Good! Finally. I’m glad we don’t have to wait anymore.” 

“Me too,” Penelope says to the group, but she’s only looking at Derek. He leans in and kisses her again in agreement. 

-

Derek takes Clooney out when they get home to let him do his business before bed. When he comes back inside, Penelope is already in bed wearing one of his shirts and flipping through a knitting magazine. He strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed next to her, laying on his back and putting his face on her thigh.

“I think they took that well,” she says.

Derek rubs his face into her skin. He hums, nodding a little. 

“When did Emily find out?”

“Find out that it’s you I’m seeing? Or that it was you I was too afraid to do anything about?”

She chuckles. “How about both, then.”

“She cornered me in the break room a few weeks after Alaska. And I never officially told her that I was nuts about you, so I think a safe bet would be her first day on the team.” Penelope drops the magazine and climbs into his lap.

“That long?” He knows what she means specifically.

“Even longer.” She runs a thumb along his jawline and looks down at him with such adoration in her eyes he thinks he might burst.

“Me too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. He pulls her down into a kiss.

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan,” she says back without hesitation. He kisses her again, 'cause that’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #cm #cj.txt #denelope #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cjs fic

[bia-wayne-west]

Children of the future.

Synopsis: Barry Allen goes into the future by accident and finds out that in the future he is married to his best friend, Y / N and has two adorable children.

Characters: Barry Allen [Flash] and Reader [You]

Warnings: none.

A / N: I always loved the fics where Barry has children with the reader, too bad they are so rare. I hope you like the fic. Reblog if you like to help spread the word.

Sorry for the mistakes in writing. I am not fluent in English.

Requests are open

Masterlist | Prompts

Barry Allen was running like lightning. Cisco decided to test Barry's speed by making him run as fast as he can.

The leaves on the trees swayed as Barry passed, leaving everything in disarray along the way. Barry didn't care if he was going too fast, until a crack opened in front of him and Barry couldn't stop.

The sprinter was thrown on the wet grass floor. He got up quickly and looked around, wondering if it was for the past or the future. Everything was normal.

Barry noticed that there were some buildings in places that used to be houses and assumed he was in the future. Barry knew he couldn't risk changing the future, but he was curious.

Allen was surprised to see the name "Allen" engraved on the mailbox of a large house. The house was white and had three floors. He approached, seeing that on the porch of the house there was a swing and a doghouse with the name "Grant" engraved on it.

Barry's questioned whether he actually read the right name in the mailbox. He didn't have much time to think before a big fat dog ran towards him, dropping the Flash on the floor. The dog caught him off guard.

The animal began to lick Allen's face, causing the brunett to laugh. Barry carefully moved the dog away, standing up.

— Sit down! — He said to the dog and to Barry's surprise, the animal obeyed and sat on the grass. The dog wagged its tail and looked very cheerful.

Flash heard a giggle from the door. He looked up and gave a surprised exclamation when he saw that Y/N was standing in front of the door, arms crossed.

— I thought you would only come back tomorrow. Cisco called saying you had an accident in Star City. — Y/N said, walking over to Barry.

The man tried to hunt for words to reply to his friend, but he was petrified when he got a peck from his childhood friend.

The woman ran a hand through Barry's brown hair and looked at him tenderly. Flash noticed that she had a beautiful ring on her fingers. She got married.

Y / N returned to kissing Barry, leaving him in a state of panic. The brunett never thought of kissing his friend, since he was in love with Iris.

— Let's go. Benjamin and Anastasia are alone long enough to set the house on fire. — Y/N said, pulling the speedster's hand to force him into the house.

— Benjamin and Anastasia? — He asked, frowning. Who were these people?

— Are you going to say you forgot your children's names? — Y/N asked in a playful tone. Barry opened his mouth in shock.

Flash barely had time to say anything. Two small, fluffy bodies crashed into Allen. They were children.

Benjamin and Anastasia were children. Children of Barry and Y/N.

Flash opened its mouth but was unable to say a word. He looked at the children who had the Y/N's hair color and Barry's green eyes.

The boy looked a lot like Barry and he had a very sweet smile. The girl looked like a cute princess.

— Daddy! — The girl said, reaching for Barry to pick her up. Allen wondered if he should pick the girl up, but after Anastasia pouted him softly, Barry grabbed the girl and gave him a big hug.

Barry had children. He formed a family.

It was not with Iris as he imagined, but Y/N seemed to love him with such intensity that it was clear that there was a lot of love.

— Daddy. Ben, mom and I made chocolate cake. — Anastasia said. Her voice was soft and sweet. Barry almost cried when the girl laid her head on his shoulder.

— Mom let me make the cake filling in the mixer. — Benjamin, who seemed to be 2 years older than Anastasia said, smiling proudly.

— It must be delicious. — Barry said, smiling at the boy. The boy hugged Allen's leg.

The two children dragged Barry into the kitchen and made the speedster eat lots of pieces of cake and a jug of juice that Benjamin made. It was sour but Barry took every drop to make the boy happy.

The house was large and warm. Barry couldn't say whether it was hot because of the heater or if it was for the family who lived there. The kitchen at the house had a large slate taped to the counter where it indicated what was needed to be bought at the market and who was going to wash the dishes that day.

Barry loved everything. It seemed strange at first, but now it was an incredible future. For the first time in his life, Barry felt that everything was going to work out in the end.

He thought the children were normal, that they were not speedsters. But the moment Y/N dropped a glass, Benjamin ran like a lightning bolt and didn't let the object hit the floor.

— Are you a speedster? — Barry asked, his face filled with surprise.

— Of course my love. — Y/N said, emphasizing "my love". In the present, she always called Barry "Allen" or some stupid nickname. Barry liked to be called "my love". — Our babies are like you. Although Anastasia hate to run

— I prefer to walk. — The girl said. It was the cutest sight Barry had ever seen. The little girl had a teddy bear on her lap and used a toy spoon to give a "imagine" soup to the teddy.

— You look weird, Dad. — Benjamin said. The boy was focused on a portable video game and barely looked at the people at the table.

— Really, Barry. Are you alright? — Y/N asked the husband. She noticed that the speedster was stunned and looked strange. — Children, can you keep the cake in the fridge and then go to play in your rooms?

— Yes mom. — The babies said in at the same time. Benjamin used his super speed to put the dish in the fridge and went to the bedroom. Anastasia preferred to walk like an normal human.

Y/N took Barry into the living room. The fireplace was lit for the winter and some toys were mirrored down the hall. The dog Barry assumed was family was lying on the couch with his belly up.

— What happened, Barry? — She asked as soon as Barry took a seat in the living room. She noticed that her husband never seemed to have stepped on the house and looked at everything as a curious visitor.

— Nothing. It's okay, honey. — Allen tried to sound convincing.

— Barry, I wanted to tell you something. — Y/N sat on Barry's lap, leaving him perplexed. Barry stood like a statue when the woman placed a long kiss on his lips. — Do you like having two children?

— Clear. Ben and Ana are amazing children. — Barry said, trying to look like the father they know.

— So I think you will love even more having three children! — Y/N said, with eyes full of water. She took a box out of her pocket and Barry recognized it as the box for a pregnancy test. — I found out two days ago, but I was going to wait for you to come back from Star City.

— You are pregnant? — Barry asked.

— Yes. Caitlin thinks I'm five weeks old. It's still the size of a bean bean but I already love it so much. — Y/N said, rubbing his belly.

Y/N was surprised to get a hug from her husband. Barry was shaking and looked surprised, something strange since he already has two children.

Allen had tears in his eyes and Y/N hugged him back, laying his head on his shoulder.

— Thank you, Y/N. — Barry thanked. — Thank you for being my family and for giving me three amazing children. You're perfect.

— You gave them to me, Barry. You played an important role when it came to making them. — She said, giggling. Flash was thinking about how strange it would be to have sex with his best friend. Barry had known Y/N since elementary school and had never thought of her in a romantic way.

Now, Barry envied Barry of the future, who had perfect children and a beautiful woman who loved him. The Flash hoped that this was his future.

— How did we even start dating? — The brunet asked, trying not to sound thick and make the woman angry.

— You were almost killed by a villain and I realized I loved you. But Iris also realized that she loved you. It took a long time for you to decide that you loved me and ask me to date. — She explained, laughing. — You are always fast but you are so reading in some things.

— Funny. — Barry said, squeezing Y/N's waist. Barry's cell phone rang and the woman got up from his lap, letting Flash pick up the phone and answer it.

— Dude, where are you at? You were running and suddenly you were gone. — He heard Cisco say. Flash's friend was nervous.

— I'm on my way, Cisco. — Barry said, hanging up afterwards without letting Cisco answer. — Y/N, I have to go. Cisco is in need of my help.

— Sure honey. — Y/N said, giving her husband another kiss. — Come back early for dinner. Today Ben's notes arrived and he wants you to see them at dinner time.

— Okay. — Barry looked intently at the woman and the house before going to the door. This was a perfect future. — See you later, Y/N.

— Save the world, Flash. — Y/N said, while stroking his own belly. Barry took one last look at Y/N before running to go back to the past.

Tears streamed down Barry's face as he ran. Barry always wanted to have a family and in the future he did, with a pet dog and warm hugs.

As soon as Barry came back to the present, he went straight to Star Labs. He knew that at that time you were helping Caitlin to take care of the imprisoned metahumans.

— Hey man, where were you? — Cisco asked as soon as Barry stopped in the middle of the Star labs.

— I fell in the middle of the race. — Flash lied, knowing he couldn't tell anyone about the future. — Where's Y/N?

— She is giving lunch to the imprisoned metahumans. She always does that.

Barry did not answer his friend. He ran straight in the direction of Y/N.

She had a tray in her hand and was walking towards a prisoner's cell.

— Hi, Y/N. — The Flash greeted the girl. She just looked at him and smiled, backe walking. — I was thinking. We have been friends for so long and we never go out to dinner just for the two of us.

— Why should you go out with Iris, your great unrequited love. — Y/N replied, making Barry make a face.

— Do you want to go out with me Friday for dinner? — Barry invited his friend. She smiled, stopping walking and looking at the brunet.

— Since you insist so much, I agree to go out with you, Allen. — Y/N said, running a hand through Barry's hair. He smiled, thinking it wouldn't be so bad to be married to you in the future.

#imagine #insert reader #fanfiction #fic #fluffy #you #cute #dc comics #batmom #clark kent #barry allen #cw #Barry Allen x Reader #reader #flash #flash x reader #cisco ramon #cisco x reader #snowbarry #babies #children Barry #barry allen x you #barry allen x y/n #y/n #s/n #dc flash #flash x you #flash x y/n #smut flash #barry allen smut

[weasleydream]

His new weapon

Hey guys! Hope you’re okay! Here is the Charlie imagine I had mentioned before! I feel like maybe I should do a part 2 but I don’t have any idea... Let me know what you guys think!

As usual, feel free to give your opinion, and enjoy!

Masterlist 

“Molly, can I help you with that?”

The atmosphere in the living-room was unbearable. A dozen of persons was here but a heavy silence had taken place. Seeing Molly almost dropping the plate she was holding, I quickly untangled myself from Charlie’s arms and followed her in the kitchen. Molly’s skin was pale as ever. Tonight, six members of her family would put their lives in danger to bring Harry Potter to the Burrow. 

“Don’t you want to stay with Charlie?” Her voice was as shaky as I had imagined it. 

“I can’t stand it… The silence. I would prefer hearing Fred and George’s jokes.”

“I know, dear…”

Molly hurriedly turned her back to me and made an unnecessary noise with her pan. Understanding she was trying to hide her tears, I slowly made my way toward her and gently grabbed her hands. 

“It’s going to be okay.” I whispered. She bravely nodded, sighed, and patted my cheek.

I knew Molly for as long as I knew Charlie, and I had met him on my very first time in the Hogwarts Express. My parents happened to know Arthur from the Ministry, and they had recognized Molly on the platform. I was annoyed by their discussion and had seen this boy, clenching nervously the end of his sleeve and throwing envious looks at another boy with ginger hair. When I had joked with him about our parents, I hadn’t realized how important this boy would become in my life, but Charlie had been since this day the person who I was the closest to. My parents had warned me they would be abroad for Christmas, but in Charlie’s mind, it was absolutely impossible to let me alone during his favourite festivity. I remembered him almost dragging me in the train and holding firmly my hand on the platform to make sure I wouldn’t run away. Not that I didn’t want to spend the holidays with my best friend, I was just afraid to intrude a family reunion. I couldn’t have been more wrong because Molly had been like a second mother since this day. 

That’s probably why, tonight, I felt like I had to reassure her.

Suddenly, someone knocked at the door. Arthur got up and prudently opened. The unmistakable silhouette of Mad-Eye Moody appeared, his prosthesis making a regular noise with each step. He was followed by Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher and Hagrid, who struggled to pass the door. Everyone was gathered and the plan would soon begin. Ron hurriedly grabbed the two big bags containing the clothes and accessories that would help us impersonating Harry and gave them to Mad-Eye. 

No one really said it, but Molly understood it was time for her to let her family go. Ginny would be the only one not putting her life in danger tonight, but it had required a lot of arguments. Molly threw her arms around her husband’s neck while begging him to be careful. She made her way to all of her children, and much to my surprise, she hugged me firmly too. 

When she let me go, another pair of arms enveloped my in a bone-crushing hug. Charlie pulled me tightly against him and I stuck my head in the crook of his neck. We didn’t say anything, only listening to the other’s breath and silently praying to come back here alive. We didn’t even kiss; it would have felt too bitter, as if it was a goodbye, as if it was the last time. None of us could do that. 

Long story short, we had taken the brooms and the thestrals (it was strange because I knew they were here but I couldn’t see them) and we had joined Privet Drive. Harry wasn’t delighted with the plan Mad-Eye had explained to him but we hadn’t let him the choice. I had drunk the Polyjuice, it was Charlie’s condition. We both knew the Potters would be in less danger than the protectors, even if it was for a brief moment. 

We were now ready to go. I was next to Charlie, and we both had our brooms with us. We waited anxiously for Mad-Eye signal and when it came, we looked at each other before rising in the air. We were in July, but the atmosphere was freezing up there. Charlie yelled to me to stay next to him, and I placed myself closer. I was beginning to hope no one was waiting for us when a green flash of light passed above Charlie’s head. Without thinking, I cast a stunning charm behind me, apparently hitting a Death Eater. Two other ones arrived instantaneously, both trying to hit us. I heard Charlie cursing and saw him accelerate. I followed him, still trying to get rid of our enemies. Suddenly, I heard one of them yelling I was the one. I saw Charlie tensing and I started to panic. Why would they think I was Harry? I knew it could happen but seeing a dozen of Death Eater rushing toward me was simply terrifying. I felt my owl fussing in its cage and I understood. It was very similar to Hedwig, and the others had false owls. Fuck. 

Suddenly, a white lightening bolt passed above my head. I yelled to Charlie to tell him there was a storm and I just had the time to think we would die struck down before a spell hit me and everything went black. 

I couldn’t see anything, but I felt myself falling. I heard the deafening noise of the wind in my ears, and above this, I heard Charlie screaming. Something grabbed firmly my wrist, and I prayed to Merlin it was my boyfriend. The man pulled me against him, somehow managing to pass one of my leg above the broom so that I was in a normal position. My head was resting against him shoulder and I could finally say it was Charlie. I heard tons of spells being cast, and I was too busy hoping we would be okay to feel the pain in my body. 

It was a burning sensation present in every fiber of my body. I couldn’t move, scream or even open my eyes. I was like a prisoner who was being tortured. 

Third POV

Without knowing how he had done it, Charlie had managed to keep Y/N on his broom. He was skilful enough to control it with only one hand, his other arm being firmly wrapped around her. She was unconscious, but he couldn’t do anything, the little detail of the Death Eaters behind him preventing him from helping her. After this strange white lightning bolt had hit Y/N, Charlie had dived as fast as possible and he had managed to grab her wrist. He had pulled her against him and as soon as she was secure against his chest, he had summoned her wand which was falling and had liberated all his broom’s power. 

However, after a few minutes, the Death Eaters had simply given up and disappeared in the night. Charlie hadn’t slow down, though, he was terrified of what would happen to Y/N if she wasn’t healed quickly. Plus, he was worried for his family, all his brothers and his father having been in danger too. A huge sigh of relief escaped his mouth when he eventually saw the Burrow. He felt the exact moment he passed the magical barrier and landed clumsily. He had tried to keep Y/N against him but hadn’t seen a hole in the ground. He fell on his unconscious girlfriend, vainly trying to push her aside. They were immediately surrounded by several persons, the closest to Charlie being Bill. 

“Charlie, what happened?” asked his brother. “Is she -”

“She’s just unconscious.” interrupted Charlie. “It was a spell I had never seen before.”

Bill helped Charlie getting up and the youngest carefully carried Y/N in the Burrow. His heart sank when he saw George sitting on one of the couches, his face tightly bandaged. However, he was laughing with Fred, so he seemed to be okay. 

“Charlie you’re- Y/N! Merlin, what happened?”

Molly ran toward her son and urged him toward the other couch. Charlie delicately laid his girlfriend and kneeled next to her. Molly fussed around her, trying to find why she was unconscious. 

“Charlie, you’ve got to describe us the spell.” said Bill. 

Charlie felt all the eyes turning toward him. 

“I haven’t heard any formula. The spell… It didn’t produce flashes of light but lightning bolts. They were white. The first one passed right above her head and she thought it was a storm, but the second hit her and she fell from her broom.”

No one said anything, trying desperately to understand what kind of spell it could be. Charlie scanned quickly the room and noticed Mad-Eye and Mundungus were missing. Ron shook his head, letting Charlie know they wouldn’t come back. He gripped Y/N’s hand tighter, slowly understanding how close to death they had been too. 

“They thought she was Harry.” he whispered. He noticed Harry flinching. 

“So that’s a treatment they reserved for him.” stated Remus. 

“But why didn’t they attack him with it then?” asked Arthur. 

Molly put an hand on her son’s shoulder and murmured in his ear they should install Y/N in a quieter place. Charlie carried her upstairs, reaching his childhood bedroom, and laid her in the bed. 

“What does she have?” asked Charlie, his voice barely audible. 

“I don’t know, dear. All we can do is wait for her to wake up.” 

Molly hugged tightly his son and left the room. Charlie pulled a chair and sat next to the bed, decided to stay awake until he could see her bright Y/E/C eyes once more. The room was dark, the only light being the one coming from the corridor, but he could see how pale Y/N’s face was. Her forehead was covered in tiny drops of sweat and her eyes were constantly moving underneath her eyelids. Charlie tried to hold tighter her hands, he whispered in her ear, kissed her cheeks and her lips, but nothing worked. She was just here, seeming to be in the grip of a fitful sleep, a sleep that wouldn’t let her go no matter how hard Charlie tried to wake her up. Eventually, he resigned himself: she couldn’t feel him. 

Little did he know how wrong he was. Y/N could feel everything; she was completely aware of his rough hands holding hers, she had felt each kiss Charlie had laid on her skin, she had felt her warm breath, and she had heard all his supplications. She just couldn’t move, or react in any way. The burning was still here, more and more painful with each second that passed, and she felt like she was dying. Her muscles had betrayed her, she couldn’t even lift the little finger to let him know she was okay. The last thing she had now was her mind, and it wasn’t a great consolation, because the only thing she could focus on was the feeling that something inside her was changing. 

Your POV

I knew something was missing, and it took a few seconds for me to realize the burning sensation had disappeared. Each part of my body was sore, each of my muscles was contracted, but it was nothing compared to the torture I had endured during… How many time? I didn’t know how many time it had been since the mission. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard anything in a long time. Maybe it was now the morning, maybe Charlie was asleep somewhere along with everyone in the house. Yes, probably. 

I slowly opened my eyes but closed them immediately because of the bright light. The window was in front of me and, according to the light I had just seen, we were currently in the middle of the afternoon. I slightly groaned and regretted one second after: now, I felt like someone was hitting the inside of my head with a hammer. The sound of the door being slammed open didn’t really help, nor did Charlie’s voice screaming right in my ears. 

“Y/N, are you awake?”

I tried to open my mouth but felt the soreness in my throat. Instead, I decided to groan once more. 

“Mum! Mum she’s awake!”

I winced because of the infernal noise and tried to tell him to shut up. However, the sound that escaped my mouth didn’t sound like any known word, and Charlie delicately grabbed my hand. Fortunately for me, he didn’t say anything and only kissed my forehead. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t know how he was. I felt the urge to make sure he was unharmed. I decided to ignore the light and opened once more my eyes, my first words being: 

“Screw this…Charlie, how are you?”

Talking was painful, but even if I had wanted to add something, it would have been simply impossible because Charlie crashed his lips on mine. I gladly melted into the kiss, weakly putting an hand in his soft hair. When he finally pulled away, I saw how worried he had been, and how relieved he was. I could see it in his blue eyes, now darker than usual.

Molly barged in the room at this very moment, making me remember my headache with her cheerful exclamation. 

“Y/N, dear, you’re finally awake!”

“It’s only been a night…” I mumbled. In fact, I was quite embarrassed they were worrying for me like this. 

“A night?” Charlie repeated in disbelief. “Love, it’s almost been a week. We thought… We thought you would never wake up.” 

His voice broke and he kneeled next to me, extending an hand so that he could stroke my hair. I couldn’t process what he had just told me. A week? It had been a week? How was it possible?

“We didn’t bring you to St-Mungo’s because we were afraid something could happen to you.” said Molly. I turned my head and saw she was holding a vial with a pink potion. “I did what I could to help you, and Remus, Tonks and Kingsley have been doing researches about the spell you’ve been hit with.”

I tried to answer, but a coughing fit I thought would bring my guts up interrupted me. Molly rushed to my side and made me drink half of the pink potion. The soreness in my throat immediately disappeared, along with my headache, and Charlie helped me sitting. I rested my back against the wall behind me. 

“What spell?” I asked. 

“The lightning bolts.” answered Charlie. “It wasn’t a storm, it was a spell. And one of them hit you.” 

Now that he told me, I remembered the lightning bolts in the dark sky. 

“But we haven’t heard any formula.” I objected. “They didn’t bother to stay that silent with the other spells. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Love, you need to understand that the spell that hit you is totally unknown.” said Charlie. “We don’t have a clue of what it is.” 

I stayed silent and completely confused. The silence was broken by my stomach, who decided to make everyone understand I was starving. Charlie laughed lightly - it was the sort of laugh I heard only when he had been under a great amount of stress and had just been reassured - and he grabbed firmly my hand. I got up, barely standing on my trembling legs, and I arrived downstairs alive only because my boyfriend had hold me tightly against him. He led me in the kitchen, where the twins were babbling about their shop with Tonks. I was slightly confused until Charlie murmured in my ear today was Harry’s birthday. 

Aware of my arrival, the three persons present in the kitchen greeted me with big grins, but all I could do was gasping pathetically, I had to admit it, when I saw George’s missing ear. 

“Yeah, we’re both survivors!” he winked at me. 

Charlie hurriedly pulled a chair for me to sit. He had noticed I was slightly unsteady on my feet. My head was spinning, and I was feeling like I would throw up whatever was in my stomach - mostly soup, it was the only thing Molly had managed to make me eat. However, I didn’t say anything, not wanting to worry Charlie more than he already was. I caught a glimpse of Tonks leaving the kitchen to get Molly before hiding my head in my arms. 

“Don’t worry, I just need my head to stop spinning…” I muttered to Charlie. 

A few minutes later, the unpleasant sensation stopped and I looked up to see the kitchen crowded. As expected, Charlie and Molly were next to me and Tonks was next to the twins, but they had been joined by Remus, Bill, Harry and Ginny. 

“Happy birthday, Harry.” 

He flinched uncomfortably before thanking me and asking me how I was doing. 

“Great, I’m just starving.”

Molly immediately put in front of me a plate full of chocolate cakes.

“It’s the only thing ready right now.” she apologised. 

Her cakes were my absolutely favourite and I found it particularly hard not to eat everything, but I didn’t want to be sick. By the time I was finally satiated, Fred, George, Harry and Ginny were gone, and Arthur had joined us. I knew what would come. 

“Do you feel something different, Y/N?” softly asked Arthur. “Do you even remember anything?”

I shivered, thinking about this awful sensation. I felt Charlie’s hand slowly stroking my back and sighed. 

“In fact, yes, I feel like something is missing, but I can’t say what. I’ve this impression since… Well, I think it’s approximately since we arrived here.” A bunch of confused looks followed. “I was conscious of what surrounded me, at the beginning anyway. I felt like… like my body was burning. It was everywhere and… I remember clearly thinking that something was changing in me. It’s the last thing I remember.” 

No one said anything. Slowly, they left, probably going for researches, or for the preparation of Harry’s birthday along with the wedding’s ones. Charlie and I were now alone, and he proposed me to install in the living-room. I followed him. I was feeling way better, and I could walk alone. That didn’t prevented Charlie from letting his hand resting in my back. He sat in the couch and I cuddled close to him. He surrounded my shoulders with his arms and rested his head on mine. This position was my favourite, I could stay all my life like this, against Charlie, feeling his warm breath on my hair and his strong arm on me. 

“What did you feel?” His voice was a whisper and filled with worry. “Did you… Did you hear me?”

“Yes, love, I heard you and I felt you. If you knew how hard I’ve tried to wake up… I’ve put all my will but I just couldn’t, it was awful…”

Without me realizing it, tears made their way on my cheeks and eventually soaked his shirt. Charlie immediately pulled me on his lap, constantly murmuring me it was okay, it would get better, and that he loved me. 

Everyone tried to figure out what kind of spell had hit me, and why I had been the only one hit. Remus reiterated his hypothesis, namely that the spell was for Harry. But they had told me what had happened with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he had found the true Harry. Why not casting him this spell, then? 

“Maybe there’s only one wizard able to cast it.” proposed Charlie. “Maybe he was on our tail, and when he understood he had made a mistake, he tried to join Harry but was too late.”

“It’s an eventuality.” replied Remus. “But why wouldn’t You-Know-Who know the spell?”

“Maybe it was a test.” suggested Tonks. “It’s obviously a new spell. Maybe they have just worked it out and they wanted to try it on someone. They thought Y/N was the true Harry and they have taken the opportunity.”

“Yes, and they weren’t sure of the effect, so they preferred using good old killing spells for the rest of us.” added Bill. 

Despite all our questions and our attempts to bring them an answer, we were unable to think of something concluant. This evening, we celebrated Harry’s birthday, but there was an undeniable tension. I didn’t see it all, because I found myself exhausted quite early and Charlie had helped me going back to the room. I laid in the bed and grabbed his hand to let him know I wanted him close to me. With a chuckle, he slipped under the thin blanket and spooned me. 

We found the true effect of the spell the next day. I wanted to get out of bed and help Molly: the poor woman was running everywhere and I had seen how stressed she was when she had brought us the breakfast in bed, scolding Charlie because he was still sleeping at this hour. He had groaned, muttering the sun wasn’t even risen, and I had elbowed him while assuring Molly I would help her. 

“No way! No, Y/N, you’re lovely, dear, but you stay in bed. You need to rest. Charlie, you better be downstairs in twenty minutes!”

And she had left, managing to slam the door, mutter she was late and scream something to Fred and George all at once. 

“Why is she so stressed? She can use magic, I don’t see where is the difficulty…” sighed Charlie while cuddling against me. 

I was on the verge of telling him he had to help her when something clicked in my head. 

“My wand!” 

I had almost screamed, making Charlie jumped under the blanket. 

“Don’t scream like that love, you scared me. Don’t worry, I’ve summoned it when you fell off your broom, it’s there.”

He extended an arm and put my wand out of the pocket of his jacket. I gladly took it and thanked him. I felt like something was strange, different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. We ate the breakfast and I noticed the pancakes were slightly burnt, which had never happened in the history of the pancakes I had eaten here. I felt bad for not helping Molly, and, as Charlie was slipping into his trousers, I decided to go downstairs anyway. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Charlie when he saw me putting on a shirt and grabbing my wand. 

“I’ll help Molly. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!” I hurriedly added when I saw he was on the verge of protesting. 

I grabbed the plate Molly had brought us and made my way toward the door. Suddenly, Crookshank ran between my legs, making me stumble and drop the plate, which broke as soon as it touched the floor. Charlie rushed behind me and helped me standing up while cursing the cat. 

“Calm down, I thought you loved animals!” I laughed. Charlie looked for his wand to repair the plate but I was quicker. “Let me do this.” I waved my wand while murmuring “Reparo.”

Nothing happened. I frowned and said once more the formula, but there was no use, I was unable to cast the spell. Charlie kneeled beside me, looking concerned. He watched me a few seconds waving my wand in all directions and getting more and more frustrated before gently grabbing my hand. 

“Calm down, love. You see it doesn’t work.”

“But why? What’s happening Charlie? Why doesn’t it work?”

“Maybe you’re still too tired.” He replied a bit too fast, and he seemed suddenly very interested in the the crack in the floor. 

“Charlie, what is it?”

He stayed silent, but at least he looked at me in the eyes. I saw how worried he was, and I slowly understood what he thought before he confirmed my fear. 

“What if it’s the effect of the spell? What if it deprives you from your magic?”

To say I panicked would be an understatement. In fact, I completely freaked out. And as in every situation in which I freaked out, I froze before hyperventilating and I began to scream some words not very kind. Arthur, who happened to be looking for Charlie, arrived and asked us what was happening. I started to expose him the problem in the least comprehensible way possible, pesting against the cat and blubbering because I was now nothing more than a muggle. However, he seemed to understand the essential because he turned toward Charlie. 

“Do you really think it’s possible?” Asked my boyfriend. “That a single spell could just… erase her magic?”

“I don’t know.” murmured his father. “I guess blocking it is possible, it would work like a silencing charm, you know? But erasing it… I don’t know. We should ask Remus or Kingsley, maybe they will know something… I have to warn Molly. Charlie, bring her back to bed, and -”

“No!” I exclaimed. Both men turned toward me, slightly shocked as if they had forgotten I was here. I had regained my composure. “Molly doesn’t need to know for today. It can wait tomorrow. But I’ll gladly go back to bed, maybe I’ll eventually wake up from this nightmare.” I muttered. 

I did so, and Charlie woke me up a few hours later. He was gently stroking my hair and murmuring sweet words in my ear and, for a few seconds, I felt so secure, so far from any bad thing in this world that I forgot what had happened earlier. But as soon as I opened my eyes and saw my wand on the nightstand, I remembered everything. My face had to decompose, because Charlie immediately hugged me. 

“Mum doesn’t know, just like you wanted.” He murmured, his voice muffled by my hair. “But if you don’t feel like assisting to the wedding, I’ll come back to you as soon as the ceremony end.”

I weakly shook my head. 

“No, I want to go. It’ll be okay.”

I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure. I joined Hermione and Ginny in the latter’s room, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, they asked me how I was doing. They had probably heard me screaming earlier. I told them I was okay and they seemed to relax. We slipped in our dresses, did our hair, and went downstairs where Charlie was anxiously waiting for me. 

I had never assisted to a wedding before, and despite of all that was going on, it was one of my best days in months. I couldn’t help but become a bit emotional and shed a few tears. Charlie was standing next to the happy couple, being Bill’s witness, but the look he sent me when Bill and Fleur exchanged their alliances was clear enough for me smile and cry at the same time. It was a look full of love, one that said One day, it will be our wedding.

The party after the ceremony was in full swing. I had managed to forget everything by dancing to death, with Charlie, of course, but also with Arthur, Bill, Fred, George, Ron and Harry, who spent five minutes constantly apologizing. After what felt like the millionth dance in one night, I dragged myself to an empty table. I spotted Charlie in the crowd of dancers, accompanied by Fleur. I smiled softly, daydreaming about the day we would get married. I was still lost in my thoughts when it happened. 

A shining lynx appeared in the middle of the dancers. Everyone froze at the moment, and despite the music that was still playing, I perfectly heard Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice. 

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming!”

Panic immediately spread in the crowd, and everyone began to run in all directions. I was shocked, and didn’t move until the first Death Eater arrived. I jumped on my feet, instinctively trying to get my wand in order to help Remus and Tonks, who were in front of me and casting shield charms. I froze when I remembered I was defenseless, and tried to spot Charlie. Finding him in the bustle was impossible, and the fact that half of the persons present were Weasley with the significant ginger hair didn’t help. I desperately yelled his name while trying to get out of here. The Death Eaters were now several, and flashes of light were seen everywhere. The guests still present were pushing me without giving a damn, only thinking about their life. The exit of this hell seemed too far for me to reach it, and my panic increased until it exploded in me when I came face to face with a Death Eater. Their silhouette indicated me it was a man, and even if his face was masked, I could see the burning glare in his eyes. I quickly turned the heels and tried to escape, but another was behind me and pushed me. I was now trapped. 

“Protego!”

It was Bill’s voice and I immediately felt Charlie pulling me toward him. The two Death Eaters hadn’t seen them coming from the terrified crowd, and to be honest, I hadn’t seen them either. Charlie put firmly an arm around my shoulder and kept me against him while he made us a way through the guests. We finally escaped this hell, but we didn’t slow down and ran until the door of the Burrow was in front of us. Once in the living-room, where George, Ginny and Fleur were anxiously waiting, I allowed myself to breath. It came shakier than I thought and Charlie understood how distraught I was. He kissed me passionately before engulfing me in a bear hug, murmuring how sorry he was. We stayed like this, unaware of Charlie’s family who was coming back, until Bill’s voice echoed in the room. 

“Why didn’t you defend yourself, Y/N?”

All eyes turned toward me, even Charlie and Arthur’s ones, and I felt an horrible guilt creeping inside me. If only I had told them I couldn’t use magic anymore, maybe Bill wouldn’t have had to let Fleur alone to protect me, and Charlie wouldn’t have been in danger. I felt the tears stinging my eyes, but fortunately for me, Arthur intervened.

“We have a lot to talk about, but right now, the important is to make sure everyone is okay.”

I felt Charlie tense behind me. 

“Dad, where’s Ron? Where are Harry and Hermione?”

“They are gone.” answered darkly Molly. “The Death Eaters were here for Harry, they couldn’t stay.”

“Is it over?” asked Ginny. 

“Yes, the Order made them flee.”

After a brief check, everyone happened to be unharmed. Shocked, but unharmed. We installed in the living-room and Ginny and Molly made some tea. I knew Arthur and Bill were looking at me, and I knew Molly was suspicious of something, because she patted my cheek longer than needed when she gave me a cup of tea. I decided to take the initiative and to speak first. 

“The spell I’ve been hit with…” Everyone looked at me. “It… I can’t use magic anymore.”

Molly gasped and turned her head to Charlie, as if she wanted a confirmation. 

“This morning she has tried to repair a plate she had broken, but it never worked.”

“You should have told us, Y/N.” Bill wasn’t angry, as I first thought, but worried. “You could have died tonight.”

“What would have changed?” I asked, aware that my tone was a bit harsh. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t say anything because I thought it could wait for tomorrow. I didn’t want to worry Molly more than she was and I didn’t want to ruin everything, that’s all.”

“Dear, I appreciate, but we’re talking about your health.” replied Molly. “You should have told us something was wrong.”

The rest of the night was a blur. I think everyone stayed a part of the night in the living-room, trying to figure out what had happened, how the Ministry could have fallen, how we could give me back my magic. I fell asleep at some point and the next time I opened my eyes, I was alone in Charlie’s room. Bill and Fleur had taken Percy’s old one, letting us borrow this room. But Charlie was nowhere to be seen. We would usually cuddle in his old bed, snuggled one against the other to have enough place. He was always so warm, even in the middle of the winter - I swear, this guy was a true heater. I used to tease him by saying he had stolen some dragon’s fire. However, I was freaking cold right now, even if we were in the middle of the summer. I grabbed my wand and murmured Lumos before remembering it was useless. Instead, I carefully woke up and checked Bill’s bed; empty. I didn’t know where Charlie was, nor did I know why he wasn’t with me. The rational part of my mind told me he had probably gone to the bathroom, but after some time that felt like ten minutes, my fear took over. What if he didn’t want me anymore? I was nothing more than a muggle now, I couldn’t protect myself in the war ongoing, and he probably didn’t want to risk his life for me. It was comprehensible, after all. No, it was wrong. Of course it was wrong. I trusted Charlie more than anyone else in the world, I loved him with all my heart and I knew it was the same for him.  

I decided to make my way downstairs, I needed some fresh air. But as soon as I reached the last step, I heard two voices in the kitchen and I stopped to listen was what said. I immediately recognized the first voice, even if it was husky: it was Charlie’s. The second one could only be Molly’s. As it seemed, she had just arrived and had found her son here.

“Charlie, dear, why are you up? You should sleep.” Her voice was sleepy. 

“It’s nothing Mum, go back to sleep.” He murmured. It was so low I had to listen more carefully. 

“Is it Y/N?” I heard her steps as she got closer to Charlie. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

“No, don’t worry.” I heard something like a sob barely contained in his voice. “Mum, what if we can’t heal her?”

“Listen to me, Charlie: we will find a way to heal her, I promise.” Molly seemed confident, or maybe it was just her mother power to make sure he believed her.

“But if we can’t?” He insisted. “With the war, how could I know that she’s safe if she can’t defend herself? They will want to know if their spell has worked, what if they come back and take her? What if she dies, Mum? What if she dies because I couldn’t protect her?”

Charlie broke down and cried. Molly rushed toward him - nudging a chair while doing so - and comforted him. 

“Don’t think that, honey. Do you really think we would let her alone if we couldn’t heal her? Do you really think we would let her die? She’s family, Charlie. She’s the love of your life, I know it as well as you do. We will all be here for her. Don’t think one second we could give up on her, dear.”

I was shaken, but I didn’t want them to know I had eavesdropped. I quickly went back to bed and it was my turn to broke down. I hid my face in the pillow to prevent myself from waking everyone up, but it wasn’t enough to hide my desperation from Charlie when he came back. He immediately understood why I was crying, and he didn’t say anything, except he loved me. We both cried ourselves to sleep. 

The week after the wedding had been the strangest in my life. We regularly saw Remus and Tonks, who had been warned of my condition by Arthur, and with each visit, they brought back more books about forgotten spells. Everyone was looking for anything in these books, but the more implicated was Charlie. He had never told me himself anything about what he had said to Molly, but he made it clear he would do anything for me by making a point of reading every single book. I would have gladly helped them if I wasn’t always that tired. It was worse with each day that came, and after one week, I was barely able to stay awake more than three hours in a row. I could tell it was worrying everyone, and soon, I heard them saying they feared for my health, but the good point of always sleeping is that I didn’t have enough time to worry myself. 

The first really worrying event happened after this first week. I was in the kitchen, eating the diner with the Weasley family, Remus and Tonks, when I felt nauseous. I didn’t want to make a scene about it and I thought I would just grit my teeth, but soon, black dots had invaded my sight and I felt my eyelids closing by themselves. I tried to murmure to Charlie I didn’t feel good when Ginny, who was in front of me, screamed something I couldn’t hear and I fell from the chair. 

I woke up what felt like an instant later in Charlie’s room. My boyfriend was softly snoring on the floor next to me, but he wasn’t the only one. Someone else was in the room, and according to the snores, I could tell it was a man and he was sleeping in Bill’s bed. I suddenly felt like my throat was lined with sand. I tried to get up but an awful headache made me whine. The two boys immediately woke up, and Charlie put his hands on my shoulders. He began to murmur that it was okay, it would get better in a way that made me think he had done it plenty of times before. He was probably still half asleep and didn’t realize I wasn’t sleeping anymore. 

“It would be better if you gave me some water…” I managed to say. 

He froze, and so did Bill behind him, who had a vial in the hand. When they finally realized I was awake, the oldest brother ran out of the room and Charlie hugged me tightly. 

“Y/N, oh Y/N, I thought… Merlin, I’ve been so terrified… You were always… Oh Y/N…”

It was like a litany, a very painful one to hear because his voice was filled with tears maybe he hadn’t allowed himself to shed. After a while, Bill came back with a carafe and a glass, followed by Molly and Arthur, both in their bathrobe. Bill handed me a glass of water and I quickly drank it, almost begging him for another, and another. When I finally felt comfortable, with a throat which wasn’t sore anymore and wrapped in Charlie’s arms, and when Molly sat on the chair in front of us while Bill and Arthur were standing behind her, they finally told me what had happened. 

“What’s the last thing you remember, Y/N?” asked Arthur. 

I searched my memories, and a vague image of Ginny popped in my mind. 

“Yes, it was during the diner. You’ve become as white as a ghost, and you’ve fallen from your chair.” began Arthur. “At first, we’ve thought you just fell asleep, and Charlie has brought you in this room, but a few minutes later, he was crying for help. You were…” He made a pause. “You were convulsing. You had fever and you seemed to be in pain. We didn’t know what to do and the only thing we could do was waiting. It has happened again, and each time it was worse -”

“Each time?” I interrupted. “How long has it been?”

Charlie tensed behind me, and I saw his parents and his brother exchanging glances with him. 

“It’s been almost ten days.” He murmured. 

“Ten days? It’s been… Ten days?” I repeated in disbelief. 

“We couldn’t come to a decision.” said Molly with a low voice. “We were terrified, Y/N, but we didn’t know what would happen to you if we brought you to St-Mungo’s. We can’t be sure there aren’t Death Eaters and if they see you… If they understand what made you this, we were afraid they would…”

She didn’t finish, but I didn’t need her to. I perfectly knew what was implied. I wanted to tell her not to worry, that now I was fine, but a lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything. 

“Remus has found something interesting in one of his books.” said Bill. “Not about the spell, but about what’s happening to you. It said that your body is… Well, it’s made for magic, somehow, it needs magic to run in your blood to stay healthy, you understand? Now that the spell has blocked your magic, you can’t use it anymore. We think that it’s why you’re always so tired, and why you… Well, that would explain your blackout.”

“We didn’t know how to slow this down.” resumed Arthur. “Tonks came up with a potion that slow down your organism activity enough to block your health deterioration. It makes you fall asleep very deeply, but it only does last a few hours.”

“That’s why we’re always two staying with you.” said Bill. “We need someone to give you the potion while Charlie is holding you when you start shaking.”

I stayed silent a few seconds. 

“It means that it will only get worse?”

They didn’t answer, but Charlie tightened his grip around me. He stuck his head in my hair, and I desperately grabbed his arms. 

“I won’t let it happen, Y/N.” he suddenly said. “I swear to Merlin it won’t get worse. Now that we know what we know, we’ll do anything in our power to unblock your magic. I promise.”

Charlie seemed more than determined to keep his promise, because when I finally woke up in the middle of the following afternoon, I found him begging Bill to try something. 

“Come on, you have to know a spell, anything!”

“I’m sorry Charlie, if I knew something I would have tried.” Answered Bill. “But we do all we can. It’s gonna be okay.”

I decided to show myself and went directly to hug Charlie. My boyfriend was terribly worried, and I felt guilty about putting him through this. From this day, he spent all his time the nose in old books, trying to find a trace let by any spell similar to the one I had been hit with. He ate less and less, only accepting coffee or tea, and whatever anyone said didn’t change anything. The only one he didn’t blow off immediately was me, but only because he was concerned about my well-being. I could beg him, even kneel in front of him (I had tried once, and he had only said I was being too dramatic) but he wouldn’t stop neglecting himself. I began to worry about him, and so was his family. 

During the following weeks, nothing like the blackout happened. I spent most part of everyday sleeping, along with nights, of course, and after Charlie passed out from exhaustion, everyone made sure he didn’t touch a book, me include. We spent the few hours I didn’t sleep together, cuddled in the little bed and I listened to Charlie while he told me stories about dragons. They were wonderful tales, and he had a true gift when it came to telling stories. I felt like I was part of it, and I would usually fall asleep to the sound if his voice and the sensation of his hands on me. 

The first of september arrived way too soon, and Molly and Arthur reluctantly brought Ginny to the Hogwarts Express. They were worried sick, but their daughter herself had told them it would be too suspicious if she didn’t go back to Hogwarts. 

“We can’t let them become more suspicious with us, we have too much to lose.” She had said. 

We were also worried about Ron, Harry and Hermione. The three of them had disappeared since the wedding and no one had news. However our worry didn’t last because we learnt the next day where they were. 

It was the end of the afternoon. The sky was slowly colouring in red and the air became slightly colder. I was talking with Molly in the kitchen when someone barged in the house. We both froze when we heard unknown voices shouting orders. I immediately got up and rushed in the living-room to see a dozen of men invading the Burrow. Arthur wasn’t here, nor were Fred, George, Bill and Fleur (Molly had insisted for them to stay at the Burrow for now), they weren’t back from work yet. Charlie immediately arrived and placed himself in front of Molly and I. 

“Who are you?” He shouted. “Why are you here?”

“We will ask you questions, and you will answer them.” Replied the man in the front. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his wand was pointed on Charlie. 

“We’ll start with the man of the house.”

Two men came from behind him and dragged him in the kitchen. I vainly tried to follow them but two others grabbed my arms and pushed me on the sofa, next to Molly. I was completely panicked, and it worsened when shouts and screams echoed from the kitchen. Molly was trembling next to me, her eyes fixed on her magical clock, where Charlie’s hand was on “Mortal Peril”. I extended an arm and put it around her shoulders. 

The interrogation seemed to last hours, and when the tall man came back, we thought it was finally over. However, Charlie wasn’t with him, and instead of saying they would leave, the guy gestured those who were watching us and they dragged us both, Molly and I, in the kitchen. 

Charlie was laying on the ground. His face was bloodied and his breath was jerky. 

“Charlie!” cried Molly.

She threw herself next to her son and I did the same. Charlie groaned, saying he was okay, and struggled to get back on his feet. I passed on of his arms around my shoulders so that he could use me to keep his balance. 

The man grabbed Molly’s wrist and pulled her violently toward him. Charlie tensed, ready to jump on the guy who threatened his mother, but I stopped him. I sent him a pleading look, and he understood what it meant: If you do that, we’re all dead, Molly first. 

“Where is Harry Potter? .”

Molly stayed incredibly calm despite the situation. I knew she could easily get carried away by her emotions, but I also knew the terror she showed was perfectly controlled. But I saw it because I knew her; a stranger would just see a terribly worried mother. 

“I don’t know… I haven’t seen him in weeks…” Her voice was shaky.

“I won’t repeat myself. Tell me where he is hiding. He was in the Ministry this morning, and we have good reasons to think one of your sons is with him. Tell us where they are or you’ll have to suffer the consequences.” 

This time, Molly’s gasp wasn’t false. Annoyed by Molly’s lack of cooperation, the man waved his wand toward Charlie and another cut appeared on his cheek. Molly squealed, repeating she didn’t know anything, and the man began to get angry. His voice covered for a few seconds the noise coming from the living-room. However, he eventually heard like Charlie and I the characteristic noises of a fight. Arthur’s voice echoed, he was calling for us. I caught myself hoping he would save us when I saw the man pointing his wand toward Molly once more. His face was twisted by the hatred, and I knew this time his spell would be worse. 

I didn’t really thought, I grabbed my wand - I still had the habit to keep it with me - and screamed Stupefy! in the same time as Charlie. I didn’t know if it was because the effect of the spell had vanished, or if my will had won the fight, but a bright red flash of light escaped my wand and hit the man in the head. He fell backward, struck down by two stupefying charms. Charlie pushed me toward his mother while telling me to stay here, and he left in the living-room to help Arthur. Molly hugged me, thanking me for saving her and also maybe because she was relieved I could now use magic, but I wasn’t really sure because everything went black. 

When I woke up, I was laying on the couch and surrounded by Charlie, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Fred and George. 

“Merlin, are you done scaring me like this?” whispered Charlie before engulfing me in a hug. 

I chuckled weakly. 

“I can’t promise anything…” I replied. “Charlie, can you give me -”

He handed me my wand with a small smile.

“Be careful, love.”

I nodded. 

“Accio chocolate cake!”

A little chocolate cake flew toward me and landed in my hands. Everyone around me laughed. 

The next day, we decided it was best to leave the Burrow and hide somewhere else. Bill and Fleur went back to the Shell Cottage and the rest of the family hid at Aunt Muriel’s. We had good reasons to think Ron, Harry and Hermione were okay, and we were okay too. 

But a new threat was planning above us: what if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used his new weapon on a much larger scale, just before the final battle? How could we survive?

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x yn

[miss-tc-nova]

Hey - Riku x Reader

Aha, Xeha-non! I tricked you! I wasn’t writing Roxas, I was writing Riku! It’s about time I gave this boy some love. 

~~~~~

               “Hey handsome.” I slide the book from the desk and take its place, grinning down at the boy. A snowy brow arches in response, before those teal orbs peer up at me. “Slackin’ on your homework?”

               “Maybe,” he grumbles. I display the text and he continues scribbling down his answers.

               “Ooo, even I got the homework done. You’re not tellin’ me I’m about to slip ahead on our grades are you?” I tease.

               He doesn’t even bother to look up. “Not even close.”

               I laugh. Of course it’s not. This kid could miss an entire month of school and still manage to beat me in almost every class. Not that I’m dumb or anything, he’s just that smart—now if only I could get him to realize that I’ve been hardcore flirting with him for over a year now.

               Riku and I have been neighbors since we were little. We were never really friends and that was fine by me; we only occasionally passed by each other on our way to school or in the halls. It wasn’t until we turned fourteen and actually had a class together that I lost my mind. He probably just views me as a mild nuisance at this point, but I can’t help myself around him anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge any of it though.

               The end-of-day bell rings and I stand up with a stretch. “Wha’chu think, Riku? Shall we do the project together?”

               “Hm?” Like a needle pricking at my heart, he wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, I mean we can. But it just sounds like you’re trying to keep that gap between us from getting bigger.” Gods, if I could turn that smirk into something sincere, I’d probably die happy.

               “Please. You may have me in maths and science, but you suck at English.”

               “I’m one grade below you. Also, what does telling a story have do with any career?”

               I count on my fingers. “Journalism, news, authors, basic communication skills.”

               “We’re communicating aren’t we?”

               “Barely.” Oh honey, there’s so much more than what we say…

               His eyes roll but we agree to meet tonight at six to work on this story we’re supposed to write. I waste the day away mulling over this nonsense between us. Clearly this boy isn’t going to get the hint; I could probably kiss him and he would just blow it off as an accident. Yet I still can’t tell if it’s because he’s not interested or just strangely oblivious to flirting. Eventually, I admit defeat—I’m going to have to just flat out tell him. I decide it’d be best to do it tonight, when there’s time for us to talk it out; though that does put me at risk for making this project insanely awkward. I suck it up and plan my words out for the end of the night until six rolls around.

               I pull open the door to find my classmate there, staring out at the horizon. “Hey handsome.” There’s still time to drop plenty of hints before the night ends, but he doesn’t respond. “You okay?” There are some gloomy looking clouds in the distance.

               “Uh, yeah,” he replies, shaking it off. “Let’s get this dumb project done.”

               “And here I thought you just enjoyed my company,” I say, letting him in.

               We start to flesh out a basic a plot for this adventure short, all the while he keeps glancing out the window at the approaching storm. I, on the other hand, am starting to feel the nerves gnaw at my gut.

               “Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, pulling his attention from the window for the umpteenth time since we started.

               Looking away from his distraction, Riku scribbles on his paper. “Yeah.”

               He’s not going to tell me what’s bothering him. Perhaps it’s time to tell him what’s bothering me instead.

               “Hey Riku?” He hums that that he’s listening before meeting my gaze. This could be it: the end of my endeavors, the end of my shenanigans, possibly the end of a friendship. Here goes nothing.

               Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to start again, but the storm lets us know that it’s here.

               When the lightning flashes, Riku abruptly stands. “I gotta go.”

               “What?” I stand with him but he heads for the door.

               “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” All those worries he’s been holding back all night have finally broken through. He hurriedly shoves his feet into his shoes.

               “But-” The boy rips the door open and takes off down the street, not even in the direction of his home. I stand in the doorway, stunned, confused, and a little heart-broken. “…Be safe.”

               The storm that night was terrible.

~~~~~

A year later…

               This last year or so has been kind of dreary. Since that storm hit, three kids disappeared from our islands. Days were spent searching, but only the ocean could’ve kept them hidden from us for so long. Then we came across a miracle; some weeks after their disappearance, Kairi had been found on the beach of the smaller island. From what I heard, she had been groggy and confused for a while, but remembered nothing of what happened. As for Sora and Riku, we never found them.

               I was upset for a long time but time heals all wounds supposedly. In reality, I’d just learned to think about it less and went about life. There wasn’t anything else I could’ve done. Even if my heart is still hung up on him, it’s not like I can bring him back. So, on the surface, I take my dreary days the same as my normal ones: one step at a time, no matter how hard the next step is.

               Nope. Don’t think about it.

               Clearing my head of memories I don’t have time to dwell on, I brush the hair from my eyes and readjust the bag of groceries in my arms. It’s Friday, school’s out, I’ve just done my shopping for the week, and now it’s time to go home and relax.

               “Hey.”

               My body freezes before I turn to person I just passed. He’s a tall, young man, his muscular arms bare. The first instinct is to put some space between us, but that mop of white hair is unmistakable; sure it’s longer than it was but it’s his.

               “Riku?” I breathe, afraid to believe it is. Have I finally lost it?

               His aqua eyes are just visible beneath that mess. “It’s been a while,” he tells me.

               That voice; it’s the same and it still makes my heart flutter. The bag in my arm is hastily set aside before I barrel into the boy, arms around his waist as tightly as I can hold. I could melt when he returns the gesture but I’m too busy trying to keep from crying.

               I step back, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry. I just…Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

               He’s taking the fact pretty lightly. “I can imagine so.”

               “What happened?” I murmur.

               “Uh, I can’t exactly explain it,” he answers, dodging my question. Something about him seems softer than before. “The storm took me someplace far away and a lot of stuff happened. But I’m here now.”

               Taking in his words, I want to question him. There was a whole year where I thought he was at the bottom of the ocean; of course I want to know everything. However, above all of that, I’m relieved he’s back.

               I smile. “Well hey, welcome back handsome.”

               Riku’s responding chuckle dies out to something hesitant. “Are you busy tonight?”

               Reaching down, I scoop my groceries back up. “No. Just making dinner and being lazy tonight.”

               “Do you want to hang out?”

               It takes everything I have to not scream ‘Yes!’ at him. “Didn’t you just get back?”

               “Yeah,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But Kairi spent a few long hours nagging me about being so oblivious.”

               “What?”

               His shoulders bounce but I don’t miss that old spark of mischief. “That whole year before I left, you were flirting with me.”

               It’s suddenly a bit too hot for me and my brain threatens to malfunction. Instead, I take my turn to answer sheepishly, “I mean, yeah. But I think you settling in again is probably more important.”

               “It can wait. I’ve got a lot of stupidity to make up for.”

               I may never stop smiling again. “Only two years worth.”

               “Then I’d better get started.” I could just squeal. “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

               “I’ll see you then.”

               I bid the boy goodbye and it takes everything I have not to explode before I’m sure he’s well out of sight. And that’s it; my brain is shot for the rest of the day. I’m not doing homework, none of my chores get done, and dinner is nothing that I had planned. I just lie around, giddy as a teenager should be.

               I force myself not to bolt for the door when I hear a knock; I cannot, however, help the swelling happiness in my chest when I see him waiting for me.

               “Hey handsome,” I greet. That’s an adorable blush trying to spread across his face.

               “Hey. Are you ready?”

               I tilt my head. “We’re going out? Isn’t it kinda late?”

               “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the monsters.” There’s a bit of the old self-confidence I remember him having.

               “Oh my knight in shining armor.” I follow Riku to the docks and I should’ve known he’d be taking me to the smaller island; it was his favorite place to hang out. But I’ve never been there at night so this will be a new experience for me.

               After he’s tied up the little boat, he offers a hand to me. “Careful.”

               “You’ve become quite the gentleman,” I tease, taking his hand.

               My joking goes right out the window when he pulls me up with absolutely no effort. “I think not wanting my date to hurt themself is just common courtesy.”

               “Fair enough.” I pray he doesn’t catch the mild quaver in the two words. “So what exactly are we doing out here?”

               “Whatever you want; just hanging out,” he says, walking out onto the moonlit beach. With a grunt, he plops down into the soft, white sand. With a bit more grace, I sit beside him.

               The ocean before us is dazzling. The water is calm, gently lapping at the land and reflecting the light from above. An endless sky is filled with millions of twinkling stars painting shades of blue and purple around the shining moon. There are no birds or strangers to interrupt the white-noise of the water; just us. And we’re not exactly quiet. We talk and laugh and joke about all sorts of things. I get vague hints that Riku’s time away had been quite an ordeal but we skirt around those topics. Still, I feel like I’m finally connecting to him; I’m not hiding anything or hinting at hidden feelings. I’m able to fully express myself. And though he may not be as snarky as he had been, I’m still enamored all the same.

               “It’s funny.” Riku says, looking up to the stars. “I wanted nothing more than to get off this island, but when I found out about you, I couldn’t wait to get back.

               Thank goodness it’s dark. “That’s kind of a silly reason to suddenly change your dreams.”

               “Not after the adventure I’ve had.” I don’t get a chance to dwell on the darkness in his words. Instead, my heart jumps into my throat when his hand sits on top of mind with a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I think you’re discounting yourself way too much. You’re worth changing dreams for.”

               What the hell do I say to that?! I sigh. “I know I was flirting with you but that doesn’t mean you have to do this. You don’t owe me anything. If you want, we can just-”

               My words are effectively silenced. It’s not smooth or gentle but Riku jams our lips together. I never would use the word awkward to describe him but this is terribly so. I still don’t hate it.

               I don’t know if it’s my own blush or the heat rolling off him, but the air between us is hot. When he breaks away, there’s that smile—I can die happy now.

               “If you end that sentence with ‘be friends,’ I’m going to throw you in the ocean,” he warns, a note of longing there.

               The astonishment in me takes a dive, succeeded by desire. Pulling myself up by his jacket, I swing a leg over Riku’s. My hands weave into his hair, pushing the locks from his face, revealing those beautiful teal eyes. Without another moment’s hesitation, I take a second kiss.

               First kisses are overrated. They’re awkward and never certain of both people’s feelings. But second kisses; with the confidence, understanding, and trust; those are the moments of passion that melt hearts. I am no exception. My insides are filled with thousands of butterflies but I can’t get enough—I will never get enough. I could live in this moment forever: just the two of us in this beautiful scene with our new-found love. I would’ve been gone only a moment too soon had I died earlier.

               Lips part, gasping for air. My eyes rapidly scan his face, trying to commit this moment to memory. Then the wave of euphoria washes over me and I let out a breathy laugh.

               “Fine. We’re not friends.”

~~~~~

Months Later…

               I trail through the sand, water lapping at my feet, birds cawing overhead, sun raining warmth on this quiet, little, lonely island.

               It’s been several months and it sucks. I got warning this time that he was going, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about his absence. The way he talked about it was like I may never see him again and he wouldn’t even give me any details. It was just ‘I gotta go’ and ‘I don’t know if I’ll come back,’ then he kissed me and disappeared; left me crying on the beach by myself. Even Sora and eventually Kairi disappeared too, but no, I get left behind. I’ve been flipping between anger and depression so much sometimes I just cry while I break things. Maybe it was ridiculous for me to think we’d always be together, maybe it would’ve been easier if he just said he was sick of me, but the fact that we were still so infatuated when he left makes this all the more miserable. I had less than a year to fall head-over-heels in love with him and, boy, did he leave his mark.

               Today’s one of those low days, where I miss him so much it almost hurts. So I’m on the little island, hoping for distractions; I’d even take memories of our little moments here—anything to dull the pain.

               Another round of sorrow creeps up on me and I take a moment to attempt clearing my vision.

               “Hey gorgeous.”

               My heart shudders so forcefully everything goes black and my ears ring. It clears quickly enough that I whirl around. He’s there, gasping like he ran a marathon to get here. I can’t believe it; also, I can’t take it. I take a running leap at Riku who falls on his ass to catch me.

               Sobbing into his shoulder, I manage to get out, “You’re not allowed to leave me again. I swear to the gods that I will tie you down if I have to.”

               Hugging me with his entire body, Riku answers, “I have so much to tell you.”

#riku #kh riku #riku x reader #xeha-non #novas requests #gender neutral reader

[kenzieam]

About Last Night - Chapter One

@jewels2876​​​​​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Lev wakes up the morning after a wild night at the Compound and realizes she hasn’t spent the night alone. The fact that the man unconscious beside her is her most trusted teammate is besides the point, he’s also her best friend and

NOW WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE DO???

*********************************************************************

What the hell?

Where am I?

Lev groaned as she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it, closing them with a wince. It had been a long time since she’d felt like this, but even this was different from her average battle wounds and training injuries. She felt almost…

Hungover.

What the everlasting fuck?

Since becoming the newest HYDRA experiment enhanced by serum to be discovered and released from imprisonment, Lev had not suffered so pedestrian a sensation as being hungover. Her body simply did not get sick from excessive alcohol anymore, something that had been both a blessing and curse since the Avengers had found her half-alive and more than three-quarters feral in that underground bunker a few years ago.

What the hell had changed?

Wait…. Loki.

The golden god Thor and his emo brother were here, at the compound and last night, while starting innocently enough, had devolved quite quickly into a hazy mess. At least Tony had perfected that concussion shield thingy he’d been bragging about that could contain most of the lightning bolts Thor tended to throw when pickled.

All Lev could remember was Loki pouring the drinks, a strange, secret little smile on his aristocratic face and Lev hadn’t found it in herself to question her growing vertigo.

Christ, if she’d gotten drunk then Steve and Bucky had too and even Thor for that matter, for the only thing that Lev knew of that could induce drunkenness in a serum-enhanced man or god-like creature was Asgardian Mead, a hearty supply of which the trickster god was more than capable of conjuring with his seemingly unlimited magic.

Shit.

What the hell did I do last night?

A new sensation hit her then, bringing with it a queasy realization.

Oh God. Not what but WHO?

A tender ache between her legs, and a thick stickiness. She’d had sex, a lot of it with someone genetically gifted in the size department and hadn’t bothered with a condom.

Oh, holy Jesus.

Was the other person still here? As her senses returned Lev recognized her own room and bed, thank god, but the identity of her partner remained fuzzy.

Muscular arms, bracing on either side of my head, supernatural, soulful eyes boring into me as he thrusts, each driving snap of his hips bringing me closer and closer to ecstasy. Oh god, the beautiful, primal sounds he made-

Lev turned her head, squinting, the pounding behind her eyes a jackhammer of agony.

When she found Loki…. She wouldn’t stop kicking his ass until HER foot was sore.

Her bed mate lay face down, arms shoved underneath the pillow his head rested on, face turned away, his breaths heavy and regular, still deeply asleep.

For the moment Lev’s breakdown was hers and hers alone.

The sheets were tangled and low, exposing a perfect ass and there was only one man in the compound who possessed that behind, that level of raw musculature and that soft chocolate-brown hair currently splayed across her other pillow.

She didn’t even need to see his most distinguishing feature.

She had just woken up after a night of wild, drunken sex with none other than her best friend and teammate, James Buchanan Barnes.

No.

NO.

She needed to get the hell out of here, before Bucky woke up too and started asking questions that she had no answer for, like ‘what happened?’ and ‘what do we do now?’. Rusty machinery screeched and grated in her head as she moved, made moderately better by squeezing her eyes shut as tight as she could but that only ensured she stubbed her toe on the doorframe, biting back a hiss of pain but it was too late, her surprise lover was inhaling sharply, stretching with a groan like he was waking up and Lev cursed under her breath, slamming the bathroom door shut and locking it.

Christ.

How did you continue to work with and train with a man who’d been inside you? How could you grapple and spar on the training mats when your body remembered the way his weight felt on you another time? Remembered the groans and curses that had fallen from his sinful lips, the way those lips had tasted?

Oh god.

Spinning the shower to its hottest setting, Lev escaped under the spray, desperately scrubbing at her skin to erase any trace of her actions, any hint of Bucky’s mark. She winced as she felt his seed dripping from her, trickling thickly down her thighs. Bruce figured that between the serum and years of cryofreeze that Bucky was effectively sterile, but what if he was wrong? Shit, Lev needed to hightail it down to medical for some type of enhanced morning after pill.

Goddammit.

She’d been so careful!

Three years with the team and she’d never done shit like this before!

The worst thing was she couldn’t stay under the spray forever, while Tony’s plumbing was too good to do anything plebeian like run out of hot water, she just couldn’t hide here all day, she couldn’t live the rest of her life in her goddamn bathroom.

But surely, she’d been in here long enough for Bucky to leave.

Wrapping herself in towels, Lev cracked the door and peeked out into her quarters.

Shit, double SHIT!

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, waiting and as he raised his head, their eyes locked.

He smiled at her, something sparkling in his eyes and Lev frowned in confusion. How the hell was he smiling and looking so fresh and not hungover. Didn’t his head throb too? Didn’t he feel like he’d been run over by a truck?

His smile faltered then disappeared, forehead creasing, something vulnerable falling over his face. Lev turned and marched to her dresser; it was infinitely easier to speak when she didn’t have to look at him.

“Lev…. About last night-”

“It was a mistake.” She replied curtly, ripping open a drawer.

“A mistake?”

“We were drunk,” she continued, slamming that drawer, yanking open another. “It’s nobody’s fault, except maybe Loki’s, and I’m going to kill him when I find him. Just forget about what happened, it’ll never happen again.” Lev forced the words, managing to sound almost breezy then turned to face Bucky again.

He was watching her with sad, wounded eyes, forehead furrowed in confusion and hurt. Seeing her gaze land back on him he forced a blank face and stood abruptly, his nod so brusque it was almost a jerk.

“Right.” He turned sharply, striding to the door then paused, his fingers curling against the wood. He was breathing heavily and when he glanced over at Lev one more time he finally looked hungover, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with confused pain.

A pang hit Lev, this was a wounded look she’d had only seen on his face during his lowest and most traumatized flashbacks to HYDRA, when the nightmares woke him up screaming in the dark and he struggled for hours later to sort through the tangles, piece together what was reality and what was only a anguished memory.

It looked like something he’d held close and dear and necessary had been ripped from him, but that made no sense. They’d made a mistake, gotten drunk and done something they shouldn’t have, Lev was just laying it all out to get it out of the way, so they could move past this and hopefully continue on as friends.

Shit, she would never forgive herself if her own weaknesses, her own stupidity last night by continuing to party had wrecked her best and most important friendship.

Bucky had been the first one to reach her, the first one to crack through the feral shell that had kept her isolated from the team. He had been the one to see and touch the damaged girl underneath, share his misery and experience in a way that let her see she wasn’t alone, that there was a way out of the darkness and she would forever be grateful to him for that kindness; for cracking open his own chest to show her the devastation inside, to teach her that within her own abyss was the strength she needed to beat what HYDRA had done, the skills and grit to let go of the horrors and pain, because he struggled with the same thing, every fucking day, and still managed to get out of bed and face it.

If she’d lost that by giving into some alcohol-fueled lust, she would hate herself more deeply and viciously than she ever had before.

“Bucky, wait.” She called, immediately cursing her tongue, for what could she say right now that wouldn’t mortify them any further?

He paused, eyes focused on the floor, still breathing heavily. He sniffled once. “Yeah?” There was a note in his voice Lev rarely heard from him, a low type of vulnerable plaintiveness, like when he’d been torn awake by a night terror and was now clinging to Lev, begging her to talk him back to the here and now.

Her nerve failed her, she was going to ask if he wanted to train later but it was a blatant attempt to force normalcy, and an embarrassing one at that. And she didn’t feel good, she wanted to burrow under a blanket until this festering hangover slunk away, not sweat and exert herself down in the gym. “N- nothing.”

For a beat, his eyes met hers again and he looked like a betrayed little boy, confused and bewildered by the turn of events, by someone he’d trusted ripping the rug out from under him.

It made no sense, for him to look at her that way, unless he blamed her for the mess that they were in, blamed her for getting shitfaced and losing control and that’s exactly what she’d been trying to avoid by dismissing their night together, letting him know right away that it was a mistake they could both let go of, that she was just as willing to forget it as he was…. so why did he look so anguished?

Her head hurt too much right now to think about it any further. The longer Bucky stood there, the more she felt this strange, inexplicable crawling guilt and shame and she couldn’t find the words to take that look off his face.

Without another word, Bucky left, the sound of the door closing a thunderclap in the dead air and Lev collapsed to sit on the bed, a wave of unexplained misery washing over her.

********************************************************************************* 

Despite her efforts, blessed oblivion would not come and Lev lingered for the next few hours with a nameless dread, a sense that something had gone horribly awry but with no idea of exactly what.

Yes, she’d made a horrible mistake by sleeping with Bucky, but she’d cleared that up, right? Laid it out and Bucky had agreed, hadn’t he? He’d looked absolutely horrible when they’d talked, but they were both hungover.

He didn’t want to mess up their relationship anymore than she did and bringing feelings into it would definitely wreck their friendship. Love had a habit of doing that, love was what had driven her mother insane, love for a man who didn’t love her back, who enjoyed playing with her mind and body but ultimately skipped out when she started to become too much work and in retaliation, her mother had slashed her wrists. Her last screams, even as a teenaged Lev, who’d discovered her and worked feverishly to stop the rivers of blood streaming from her mother’s forearms, were aimed at her lover, the words ‘Is this what you wanted?! Is this what you wanted?! Are you happy now?!’ echoing in Lev’s nightmares for years to come.

Her father had taken her in after that, the man who’d watched passively from a distance as his ex-wife tore herself apart for the man she’d left him for but the damage had been done. Before her mother’s blood had even dried on her skin she’d vowed to never let something so evil and poisonous as love to infect her, ever.

Friendships were dangerous enough, but there was something about love, the total giving of your mind, body and soul that Lev could no longer risk, the chance that your own psyche would become so linked to the other that to separate meant death for the one who’d been foolish enough to go all in in the first place.

And shit, she’d had a good friendship with Bucky, he’d maintained a distance with her, unseen by everyone else, who considered them joined at the hip, but enough to keep Lev’s boundaries, her set demarcations of what she would… and could accept.

He’d never tried anything so stupid like kiss her or ask her out on a date; when they held hands it was with easy camaraderie, a causal affection and the times Lev caught herself gazing covertly at him, wondering what his lips tasted like were just signs of her own weakness, a brittleness inherited from her damaged mother, a deficient gene in her DNA.

And then she’d had to get drunk and fuck him.

Fuck.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts and, for a breathless second, she both wished it was Bucky and anyone but Bucky.

“Come in?”

The door opened and Steve poked his head in. Although he looked a little green around the gills as well, the lines in his forehead were of worry. “Hey, haven’t seen you all day…. You alright?”

Lev grimaced, debating whether to spill her acrid guts or not. “Hungover, you?”

Steve groaned, dropping his head. “I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m never letting Loki pour my drinks again.” Lev clarified and Steve shot a finger gun at her without raising his head.

“Buck in here?” The blonde continued and Lev’s skin prickled.

“No. Why?”

If Steve noticed that her answer was too fast, he gave no sign and, sick as he was, he probably hadn’t anyway. “Haven’t seen him all day and you two looked pretty tight last night.” A little grin pulled at his lips as he invited himself into the room, shutting the door behind him. Lev scooted over with a grumble and he collapsed on the bed beside her, jostling her and making her stomach roil queasily.

“Don’t,” she mumbled, grabbing her head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled back then exhaled, seeming to centre himself before continuing. “Yeah, you two were getting a little cozy, did anything happen?”

“No!”

Steve raised a brow and Lev hurtled forwards.

“I mean, no, of course not. We’re friends, Steve.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?”

“The way he was looking at you last night says different.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rogers!”

“Language.”

“Fuck that!”

Steve snorted, shaking his head. “Alright, whatever. You know you can talk to me though, right? Anything that’s bugging you, I’m here.”

Whoa. This wasn’t the first time Steve had played big brother, but Lev could not handle that shit now.

“Steve, I’m fine. Bucky and I are fine, I’m just sick as a dog from that little Nordic prick last night fucking with our drinks. Buck’s probably crawled in a hole somewhere feeling the same damn thing.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, probably.” He stood with a huff. “I’ll let you sleep it off.”

“’Kay, thanks.” Lev replied, watching as he left, grateful he hadn’t pushed.

Steve nodded in return, opening the door, and stepping outside. Bucky was further down the hall and seeing Steve, stopped his approach to Lev’s door. His eyes widened, darkening with something like betrayal, and then he was storming away.

*************************************************************************

Lev dropped the weight with a bang, exhaling heavily and pushing a chunk of sweaty hair off her forehead. Where the hell was Bucky? They always worked out together, encouraging and competing in a friendly manner to push each other higher and further but, for the last week, the former assassin had been MIA.

For the first few days Lev had been able to shrug it off as a lingering hangover, but Bucky had continued to avoid her in the gym and, to be honest…. everywhere. She was lucky now to catch fleeting glimpses of the man she used to spend hours with a day, just a free random encounters in the common room, with the big man disappearing before she could open her mouth to speak to him, to ask what was going on.

But she knew what was up.

Damn her, now she saw, and she hated her previous blindness.

This past week’s famine had clarified her thoughts, and her hunger. She missed Bucky, and not just as a friend. Something had shifted in her that last night, as Bucky had moved so sinuously inside her, holding her like his most cherished gift, or maybe had even broken free before that but she hadn’t had the guts to face it and… she missed him.

She missed his smile, his warmth, his presence, the way he seemed to sense her impending anxieties and could calm them, distract her and draw her away from that hateful, swirling abyss inside her. Without his guidance this last seven days, she was struggling, close to drowning at times.

And it was so much more than that.

She’d known the reason behind his smile that morning, the sparkle in his eyes, because the same joy and hope had embraced her heart, warmed her soul.

And scared the shit out of her.

So, she’d deflected, ducked, jabbed and redirected. Plunged into a near maniacal rebuttal, a deliberately obtuse rambling about mistakes, and forgetting; not letting this lapse tear their friendship apart.

But it hadn’t torn anything apart, it had opened up new facets inside her, thrown open doors she’d slammed years ago and she’d never been more terrified, for even as her heart had called for him that morning, the echoes of her mother’s crazed screams had played a gruesome melody in the back of her mind.

You couldn’t fall in love. It was dangerous, it was self-destructive.

And yet she’d gone and done just that, shared a magical night with her best friend and fallen hard, opening the door to what had honestly been knocking from the start, masquerading as close friendship but just biding its time, waiting to fully ensnare her heart.

She didn’t know what to do. Her sabotage had worked, Bucky hadn’t tried to pursue anything, and she wished with everything she had to take it all back.

She was such a fucking idiot and if she’d wrecked her chances with Bucky forever, she deserved the misery, but god did it hurt.

Tonight, she would talk to him tonight. Corner him in the common room and make him listen to her, force him to pay attention to her apology and then beg for his forgiveness. It was the perfect opportunity, tonight was the night the team all sat down to dinner together, one big happy family and he wouldn’t be able to hide from her.

She hadn’t let herself realize before how empty her heart was, hadn’t turned to face the ghost that had stalked her ever since it had climbed from her mother’s corpse and the void threatened to suffocate her now that she’d allowed herself to see it.

With new purpose, Lev set the weight back and hurried up the stairs to her quarters.

Bucky didn’t show until it was time to sit down and eat. Lev heard his voice from inside the kitchen and hurried out with the dish in her hand, ready to throw it on the table and pull him away so she could bare her heart and confess the truth, but ended up almost dropping the plate instead.

He was not alone.

She clung to him almost nervously, or maybe star-struck, watching the assorted teammates moving around and looking like normal people, bantering and laughing and bickering like they weren’t Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Lev immediately resented her hand on Bucky’s chest, her hip bumped against his, her head resting in that little cradle of his shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his arm around her.

Bucky’s new friend was blonde and tall and gorgeous, and Lev instantly felt like a troll compared to her. A supermodel standing next to a ragamuffin, a brat with a wild mane and weird violet eyes daring to share the same air with haute couture.

Bucky’s eyes drifted to hers and, for the briefest moment, he looked uncomfortable, maybe even…. sad, then his face changed, going expressionless in a way Lev had never seen before, dismissing her like so much garbage and she stumbled, managing to set the dish down without breaking it.

Blood rushed through her ears as everyone gathered, as her teammates commented on the newest guest, smiling and offering their hands when Bucky introduced them, no one seeming to notice Lev, pale and adrift among them.

She offered a nod and shaky smile when Bucky, almost as an afterthought, finally introduced her as well to Lilly, his girlfriend. Was it Lev’s imagination, or was his voice almost defiant, bordering on savage when he addressed her? Almost a ‘choke on this’ tinge in his tone?

There was a brief silence, a few nervous clearings of throats, telling Lev she hadn’t invented his truculence, but then the moment had passed, the team diving back in, sparing any further discomfort and Lev faded into the background, taking a seat not far enough away from the new couple, struggling to maintain at least the semblance of self-possession as the dinner commenced.

Lev forced herself to choke down her food as she listened to her teammates around her, talking and laughing and asking Lilly question after question, ‘how had she met Bucky?’, ‘what did she do for a job?’, ‘ had she sucked Bucky’s cock yet?’.

Okay, no one had asked the last one, but it floated nastily through Lev’s mind as her shock began to give way to anger.

What the fuck?

A week after spending the night with her he was bringing some new girl around? He’d moved on? The possibility terrified Lev and with it came indignance and rage.

What the hell was he doing? Her mind growled, and she forced her hand to let go of the fork in her hand before she bent it.

Moving on, her inner voice replied, the one that liked to whisper from the darkest corners of her mind about how useless and pathetic she was, just like you wanted him to.

But I didn’t! Not really….

Too late, sugar. He’s found someone else.

No. NO.

And there’s nothing you can do about it, her mind sneered.

#au bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #au bucky #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky barnes angst #bucky and lev #bucky and levi #bucky barnes drama #bucky the morning after #bucky mixed signals

[3pirouette]

Peggy breaking up with Sousa for Steve. Sousa is a jerk despite Steve didn't do anything and this was a long time coming.

Oh. Oh man. Look. I’m so Anti-Sousa. Daniel had some good points (and I haven’t seen his part on AOS yet) but man. As someone who has dealt with men with some of his traits that they put on display in Agent Carter, it’s toxic. So toxic. This is not Daniel Sousa friendly. I’m not even putting Steve in this because Steve has nothing to do with the fact that Sousa is toxic. Just... NO. God, I felt so bad for Violet. Ok. Here we go. 

~*~*~*~

Peggy should have known before they even started dating. 

Daniel had issues. 

At first it just seemed a little like insecurity. He needed to hear that she loved him for him, that she wasn’t comparing him to Steve. That dead Steve’s memory wasn’t more important than her alive boyfriend. She could understand that. She could. 

But it lasted. And it twisted. It moved beyond reassurance and support. 

They only talked about what he did at the office. She’d start off by trying to tell him about her day and he’d take over the conversation, making his day that much worse, or harder, or more difficult, or more important, just because it was his. In the beginning she was always careful to reassure him that they all had days like these. 

Until she realized he never wanted to hear about her days like those. 

And she’d never pitied him for his leg. Never. She knew men who had lost so much more than just a limb and nothing about it scared or intimidated or bothered her. She tried never to make him feel any different about it when they were intimate, helped him check his skin when he thought the prosthetic was digging in, and helped him change dressings when pressure wounds got the best of him. She never made negative comments, only asked if he needed help if he seemed he was struggling. She took her cues from him. And despite that, he’d still tell her she thought less of him because he wasn’t whole. 

He said it so often, for a little while she thought it might be true. 

She wasn’t sure, exactly, when she realized things had become one sided, when she noticed that she built him up and supported him and soothed his worries and that he did none of those things for her, but the revelation hit her like a lightning bolt. 

She started to take notice. 

She watched how he steered the conversations. 

She really didn’t think he even knew he was doing it. At least not at first. But the longer she paid attention to it, the more she heard the same phrases. He placated her, pitched woo when she got angry, tossed out a “hey guys,” or “don’t be like that” in the office when she needed a little support but never went as far as actually backing her up at work. She got to the point where she realized she was giving him all of the things he seemed to need, and he was giving her almost nothing. 

She was quiet over dinner. A dinner she’d cooked, even though they’d both been at the office the same amount of hours and done the same paperwork. He’d feigned needing a break. 

Apparently he didn’t think she did. He seemed to think she should be in charge of cooking every night while he got to be in charge of having a drink. 

She had worked herself up over the thrown together sandwiches, was done with feeling like she was always giving and getting nothing back in return unless he noticed she was getting angry. And tonight, he noticed. 

He reached out, took her hand. “Peggy, don’t you know I need you?”

She sat tall, taking her hand from his and folding it primly in her lap. “Why yes, I’ve noticed that. But the fact is, I don’t need you.” 

Peggy stood, grabbing her purse from the counter. She was thankful she’d seen this day coming and had started slowly but surely moving her things back to her own apartment. She was sure he hadn’t noticed. “I used  to think you had me on a pedestal. But the truth was, you wanted me to put you on one. I don’t want someone on a pedestal and I don’t want someone I”m above. I want to be there, next to one another. Partners. Together.” She took a deep breath. “You don’t want that, I see that now. I’m sorry.”

He stands and dramatically takes a step without his crutch, reaching for her as she’s leaving and toppling until she has to reach out and catch him. She waits until he’s standing steady then steps back. 

He’s done this before. She knows he’s perfectly steady on that leg moving quickly when he wants to be. She frowns and steps away. He puts on his wounded puppy face. 

“You wouldn’t be saying this if I had two working legs.”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“I’m not enough for you? I’m not good enough for you? No one will live up to him Peg, so you’ve got to stop trying. I’m the best you’re going to get. No one’s going to put up with you working and sassing and being so damned pig headed.”

She doesn’t know if he thinks he’s trying to charm her, or to win her back. She thinks maybe, deep down, he’s trying to scare her into staying with him. 

She just frowns. She starts to speak, then closes her mouth. 

“Well?” he asks, limping towards her. 

“I know you think you love me, Daniel. But you don’t. Not really.” She smiles sadly at him. Needing someone to make you feel good, and loving them and wanting to make them feel good, are two totally different things. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have said what you just did to me.”

She turned, his voice still raised as she moved towards the door. “So, what? You’re just going to go?  What do we tell everyone tomorrow? You’re ready to be alone? For the rest of your life?”

And that was it. In a few short moments he’d confirmed all she already knew. She stopped at the door, pulling it open and turning just enough that he could see the earnestness on her face. “You tell everyone whatever you want tomorrow. I’ll go along as long as it isn’t too outlandish. And yes, Daniel, I’d rather be alone, than be with someone who doesn’t love me the way I know I deserve to be loved.”

His voice stops her from leaving. “Little full of yourself there, aren’t you Carter?” She doesn’t play into him, but waits. “You told me once you knew your value, that other people’s opinions of you didn’t matter. And now you’re saying that you know how you deserve to be loved?” He laughs, and she wonders if he knows how bitter he is, or if he’s dipped into the whiskey tonight more than she knew. “Good luck finding someone that will live up to that standard.” 

She shuts the door behind her, and never looks back. 

She loves herself to that standard, and if that’s all she has, she knows that’s enough. 

#ask fic #not even tagging because I know at one point there was a problem and the anti were ending up in the tag and I don't want this to happen #Anonymous

[soundwavefucker69]

Tal'ika: a series of hugs

Tal’ika deserves hugs and they’re gonna GET THEM. Spoilers ahead!!

Tal’ika couldn’t imagine a time when they weren’t in contact with at least four people in a day. As hard as their childhood, it was a childhood full of body warmth and love. They could vividly recall being swept up and set on a hip just because, longer than most Human children were picked up, because their bavodu’e were supersoldiers and it never occurred to them to stop picking Tal’ika up at a certain age. And, well, Plo was a Jedi, so of course weight meant very little to him. They spent more time on a back or a hip than they did on the ground using their own legs, to the point where they got stubborn and threw fits when they were picked up because they were a squirmy child and wanted to run around and their bavodu’e were horrid and clingy and kept a hand on them when they would much rather be somewhere they probably shouldn’t be.

Tal’ika had been a child that was hugged. Quite a lot. They shared a bed with Plo or Cody or Wolffe or Rex until they were six, when they started rolling out of the bed more than they managed to stay in it. Touch had always been important to vode, as part of their culture as butchered and sliced together Mando’a and secrets and blasters. They had grown up wrapped up in touch. Pats on the shoulder when they did well in school, tears soaked into whatever chest was readily available when they left a planet behind where Tal’ika swore they had fallen in love, fingers dug into ribs when they were a teenager and moping and unbearable to live with, hands checking them over with touch and grounding purpose when they almost died, someone pressed up against them to correct their stance when they learned to fire a blaster...

Touch was everything. And when it started to disappear, they didn’t realize how important it was.

First, it was Sinker and Boost, together, when they were too little to remember them. Then, it was Wolffe, quietly, in the night, when they had no medic and Plo wasn’t there to heal him. Cody was next, defending them when they’d taken a bolt to the chest and couldn’t do anything but lay there, half alive, until Rex could drag them out. Gregor after that, charging into enemy fire like that was where he belonged to draw off the Inquisitors hunting them.

And then Plo.

Plo was gone, too.

Rex was all that was left, and Tal’ika had never been so cold.

And then, at the Battle of Endor, when they were so close, Rex was gone, too, and Tal’ika had never gotten close enough to the other pilots to have touch, and in the aftermath, none of them really cared to initiate when they were clearly so prickly and lost and alone and difficult to relate to. Rebels had never liked clones. Tal’ika had been gotten into their fair share of fights defending the vode who never had a choice in dying for the Republic they wanted to rebuild.

So, when Tal’ika was flung into the past, suffice to say, they didn’t quite realize just how touch starved they were.

The first time Obi-Wan hugged them, in the aftermath of a battle that left more soot visible than skin, Tal’ika froze, because they hadn’t realized that they were cold. He was warm, and close, and radiating concern, concern, concern, fear he was releasing into their embrace, and they felt like they’d been punched in the throat because their dad was hugging them.

Plo had been their dad, once, but this was Dad, and he was hugging them.

They never thought he would.

The first time Ahsoka, the little one, hugged Tal’ika, all Tal could think was Togruta burned a few degrees hotter, and the blood circulation in their lekku was utter osik. They were pretty sure hugging them was just an excuse to warm up said freezing lekku, so they hugged her back, buffeted her with feelings of warm, safe, warm, safe, because there was a battle and Ahsoka was shaking in a way she rarely did. Tal didn’t know what triggered it, didn’t ask, just did what Plo did for them: wrapped her in every positive emotion Tal’ika could find and drown her in it like a weighted blanket.

Hugs, for Jedi, were so much more than hugs.

The first time Anakin hugged them, it wasn’t really a hug, so much as it was a, ‘Tal’ika cannot walk because they took a hit to the leg and only Anakin was available to carry them’. He hugged like a Jedi, too, Tal’ika lifted in his arms like they were a slip of paper and not a full Human of solid muscle. All he radiated into the ‘hug’ was ‘safe, safe, protect, protect, calm down,’ like Tal’ika was the one panicking in this situation. (They weren’t.) (It was definitely Anakin.) It wasn’t like they could blame him for panicking. Obi-Wan left them alone together for half a day and he was already bringing back his sibling padawan injured. Tal’ika would be panicking, too.

The first time Mace Windu hugged them, Tal’ika had barely processed what was going on. It wasn’t an entirely willing hug. Tal’ika was drugged to the gills they didn’t have and swimming in a haze of painkillers, subconsciously seeking out the nearest Force signature to curl up in, and Mace was just there. They had collapsed on him in a boneless, drugged heap in the full view of all of Lightning Squadron and half of Ghost Company, mumbling about loss and battles that hadn’t happened yet and how they weren’t there to hug them in the aftermath, and Mace had let them, because for all they frustrated him, they were also a Jedi, and the child of one of his best friends. And they were a padawan, by technicality more than anything else, and a young one, and they were in mourning for a future that would never come to be, people that would never love them the way they were supposed to love them, and he hurt with them.

So, Mace wrapped them in love and quiet mourning with them, and Tal’ika cried, and never spoke of it again. Neither did he, but they were willing to take that.

The first time Fox hugged them and it meant something, Tal’ika had cried, too. Because he had looked at the with such love and pain in his eyes and whispered that he would always, always choose them, and they didn’t know what they had done to deserve a buir that loved them like he had nothing left to lose.

He told them exactly what they had done to deserve that love, when the war was won and the Chancellor was in pieces on the ground, and they cried again, except this time, they weren’t in mourning.

They were finally happy again.

#realityhoudini #prompts #red fox comes running #shrooms is writing #i feel god in this chili's tonight #y'all mind if i #CRY! #tal'ika baby you DESERVE SO MUCH MORE!!!! #AND I'M GONNA GIVE IT TO YOU!!! #WATCH THIS!!!

[kingdeku-queentoga]

As the days had pass Steven became a bit more flexible with his work schedule, as he spent a bit more time with spinel but also made sure he did a fair amount of work on a daily basis, he even let spinel have even more freedom than before by letting her roam around the place as long as she didn't get in anyone way nor break something

The teen ran his hands though his hair with a heavy sigh as he read the latest reports, figuring out what to do with his soldiers meanwhile spinel was walking around the place with Pearl watching over her so she wouldn't cause any problems, which in turn had give him a bit of alone time so he could really think about everything.

The door opened open and spinel came running in happily laughing "hey bestfriend!" Spinel called out as she ran to the bed and jumped up, landing on his back

Steven groaned at spinel landing on back as he turned and looking back at her and saw her arms was in a knot "w-what?" He questioned as Pearl ran into the room

"Ah m-my Diamond" Pearl said with a bow of her head.

"Should I even ask?" Steven mumbled while spinel was laughing as she tried to untangle her arms but with no results "actually never mind, I don't care just help me fix her arms" he told her as Pearl immediately went to go help with fixing spinel arm.

while the two gems was trying to untangle spinel's arm Steven communicator had turned on, making the three gems stop what they was doing and looked at it, seeing it was Yellow Diamond making Steven get off his bed as he looked at her "Yellow" steven said as she had looked at him "why did you call me"

"Steven, come to the main hall" Yellow told him before ending the call.

Steven shook his head and made his way over to the door "my Diamond?" He heard his Pearl called out to him, making him stop

"Stay here with spinel, I'll be back in a moment" steven told them just before leaving, heading to the main hall while wondering what was going on

The walk felt somewhat long without spinel or pearl by his side but none the less he kept walking, after a few minutes of walking steven finally made it to the main hall see that Yellow and Blue was on their thrones "my Diamond, pink Diamond is here" Blue and Yellow Pearl had announced, making the Diamonds look over at steven.

"You wanted to see me, Yellow and I guess Blue as well" Steven said as he walked closer to them

"Steven, it had came to our attention that you had been doing less work that normal, care to explain?" Yellow asked him

"Are you feeling okay?" Blue asked him worried.

"...so all because I not working myself halfway to death, there is something wrong..." He started before glaring at them "I have better things to do then to explain myself, punish me when I actually do something wrong" steven said shocking the Pearls as they let out a gasp while yellow and blue eyes widened

"What do you say!?" Yellow said as she glared at Steven who had glared back at her

"You heard me, Yellow" steven said sternly "I'm done wasting my time, I'm going back to my room since there something actually important I need to take care of" he told them off as he turned his back towards them and walked out, ignoring his names being called.

Spinel laughed while pearl was pulling on her arms as hard as she could, hoping to untangle them, pearl pulled harder just before spinel arms had suddenly become untangle and she was sent flying back which she immediately gotten ready to hit the ground.

Steven walked into the room and saw what was happening and immediately ran and caught his pearl in his arms "are you okay" he asked her.

"Yes, I'm okay" Pearl said before her eyes widened in realization as she slowly looked up and saw her Diamond and the fact that she was in his arms, she scream before she quickly get out of his arms "m-my Diamond!" Pearl yelled in shock

"Hey buddy" spinel said simply while waving at him

"Good job on get spinel untangle" steven said as he want to his bed and sat down, looking over at spinel smiling face before deciding to pet her head, causing her to smile bigger "don't get tangled next time" he told spinel who had nodded.

"M-my Diamond are you okay?" Pearl asked making steven look at her and nod.

"I'm fine Pearl" steven told her while he laid on his back, kinda tired but had more work to do so he couldn't go to sleep, plus he wanted to spend time with his gems.

Steven was about to relax but the sudden alarm from his computer had caused everyone to immediately jump up "Pearl what go on" steven asked immediately as one of his soldier had sent an emergency report.

Pearl ran to the computer and immediately read the report before letting out a gasp "one of the colonies is under attack and they the leader of the army is a fusion!" Pearl said making steven eyes widened while he immediately stood up heading for the door "my Diamond?"

"Don't let spinel leave this room, that is an order!" Steven yelled making pearl jumped but quickly nod her head, he didn't waste any more time and ran off to an warp pad to join the fight, leaving spinel with pearl for the time being

"Where did steven go?" Spinel asked Pearl softly

"H-he had to go for a little bit but he'll be back soon" pearl told her hoping that her Diamond would be okay.

Hours had passed with steven fighting for his colony but more important fighting for his life while he had fought the leader that was the fusion, in the end he had to retreat because they was out numbered and was losing soldiers by the second, meaning that it was a planned out ambushed

Steven panted as he warped back to homeworld, barely making it out in first place as his clothes was ripped, body was beaten black and blue along with a few cuts here and there. The Diamond dropped to his knees while holding his wrist as it would take him a bit of time to heal, the sound of loud steps had caused him to look up and saw Yellow and Blue walking to him, steven glared at him as he forced himself to stand "what do you want" he asked them while they looked down in his beaten state.

Yellow didn't say anything to him as she immediately shot steven with a high voltage lightning bolt making him yelling before dropping to the ground unconsciously "guards take him away" she order before two guards came.

"Yes my Diamond!" The guards said before picking steven up and took him to a cell, once there they had gently placed steven against the wall just before they had attached a chain to one of his ankles that was also attached to the floor so he wouldn't escape.

"Yellow... Is this truly the only way" Blue asked sadly while Yellow had let out a heavy sighed before walking away from her, unable to answer her

#steven universe #fanfic #fanfiction #su yellow diamond #yellow diamond #su diamonds #pink diamond #the diamonds #diamond steven au #pink diamond steven universe #diamond steven #pearl #su pink pearl #pink pearl #spinel #rejuvenated spinel #steven universe fanfic

[flywolfwriting]

Reputation

My reputation was important to me.  Nobody ever challenged me – nobody except them. They were still just a kid when they started out.  I couldn’t really talk though; I was their age when I got going too.

I couldn’t take out a kid.  I had to teach them, give them a chance.  So I let them win. Others thought I was crazy.  How could I tell them the truth? That I had, over time, in fact fallen? I loved them. So I kept letting them win.  Each time they got better.  Each time I made it harder.  Don’t get me wrong; others still challenged me, and I crushed them into dust. But they were different.   They showed so much promise.

One day we finished our usual battle and I was being loaded into the squad car.  We all knew I’d be out within the week, but formalities and all that. It had been a particularly harsh battle; their best one yet.  They’d come so far, and I hadn’t make it easy for them to beat me. I still could have destroyed them without breaking a sweat, but I had self-control.  It was a good thing, too.

As I was getting into the squad car, I heard a rumble.

They looked up, confused, and turned to me.  I shrugged. “I’m not doing that,” I told them.  I loved how there was enough trust between us that they had looked to me for answers. They sighed.  They were clearly exhausted; whatever was coming, they had to take care of it fast, because anything lasting longer than a few minutes would finish them.

Lightning shot from the sky and blasted them backwards. They crashed into the brick wall, leaving a dent where they hit.  They slid to the ground.

“Hey!” I shouted, resisting the officer trying to shove me into her cruiser. She gave up in resignation, knowing it would be unwise to force me to do anything.  We stood behind the car, watching.

I breathed a sigh of relief as they stood, coughing, and wiped blood from their mouth.  They were alive at the very least. Their clothes were smoking.

A man I knew very well descended from the skies, blue lightning crackling at his fingertips. I narrowed my eyes; what was he doing? He knew this was my turf and my hero.

“Who’re you?” My hero asked, spitting another glob of blood from their mouth.

The lightning man smiled and, without another word, fired another bolt.

My hero leapt out of the way, shooting down the street to get the fight away from the onlookers who had arrived to watch my arrest. I pulled against the cuffs, heart starting to speed up in my chest.

The newcomer followed, casting a smirk my way. “There’s no use hiding!” He called in a singsong voice, blasting a car onto its side. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment and you’re not going to escape.”

My hero appeared again, panting and floating at the other’s level.  He scowled. “What moment? I’ve never even heard of you.” They spat.

The lightning man laughed. “Oh, you probably have.  You just don’t know it’s me.  I was a trainee of your favorite villain over there and I’ve been trying to surpass them for a long time.” I could hear the triumph in his voice.

“No,” I whispered.

“What’s happening?” The officer asked under her breath.  I ignored her.

The hero attacked and the pair traded blows for a moment before parting again. The lightning man was laughing. “You fight well! No wonder they took a liking to you.  Too bad for them,” He glanced at me over his shoulder, eyes smoldering with hate. “I’m going to kill you.” He shot another bolt of lightning, only this time the hero was too slow.  They were knocked from the sky, slamming into the side of a building and dropping two stories to the ground where they landed on a car.

I yanked against my cuffs.  Where I was usually able to break them, though, there was only a faint creak. “What is this? Cut me loose!” I hissed to the officer.

“Th-they’re new cuffs, designed by them to hold you. You can’t get out of them.” She stammered, leaning away from me. I could feel my power dancing along my skin, heating the air around me.  

“Let me go.”

“I can’t!”

“Do you want them to die?”

“I- no- of course not-”

I leaned in close to her, barring my teeth.  “Then let. Me. Go.”

Her eyes grew wide and she hesitated, but did as commanded and unlocked my cuffs as the lightning man struck my hero with yet another jolt of electricity.  Their scream rang in my ears. The lightning man lowered himself to the ground, where he could get a closer view.

I turned and calmly strode down the street, unleashing the full of my power. It whipped around me like a gale, pushing anything that was unfortunate enough to be within a five foot radius of me away.  The ground crackled beneath my feet and the buildings creaked in the head. Violet tinged my vision, though nobody else would be able to see the strands of my power – just its affects and the faint violet ripples of light on my skin.

Lightning turned around, still laughing.  “What, you think you can still step in and get the credit? I’m going to do what you never could.  I’ll be remembered forever as the one who surpassed you. I’ll be the one who defeated the Mighty Hero when you failed. I’ll be the one remembered as besting you!”

My left hand snapped out and caught him by the throat, lifting him off his feet. His words cut off in a choked gurgle. “You’d be remembered as nothing.” I said bluntly as his hands grasped at my wrist. I could feel him trying to use his power, but my own ability created an energy barrier over my skin that he couldn’t penetrate. “You’d be remembered as a coward who attacked a tired kid after a long day of fighting.  You’d be remembered as weakling who was too scared to face me himself. You’ll be remembered as a fool.” I began to squeeze, my power concentrating in one place.  He began to panic, thrashing in a wild attempt to escape.  It was too late; he’d died the moment he let me touch him. “Nobody touches them but me. They are mine.”

Had I not cut off his airway, he would have screamed as he died, body flaking apart into ash in my grasp. It took less than a minute for the entirety of his person to disappear into the air. The maelstrom around me faded, though the heat crackling across my skin remained. I could see people around me flinching, cries of terror filling the air as they realized what I did.  I did not look at them.  I merely walked forward, eyes locked on my hero.

They were unconscious, but still alive.  I tenderly gathered them into my arms before finally turning to the assembled civilians. I said nothing; just eyed them haughtily before rocketing into the sky and away from the city. My hero needed help, and none of them could do it.

#Flywolf33 #flywolfwriting #my story #writing prompts #reputation #hero/villain #villain is in love with the hero #non-binary characters #ocs #original characters #My writing #gender neutral characters #they/them pronouns #they/them #fiction #fantasy #super powers #do not repost to another site #reblogging is okay #thank you

[meetthetank]

Peccatum Chapter 19: Silence

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War, Chapter 13 is rated E, CW on chapter 18, Hate crimes

2B frowns as the sun sets over the city of Vigo. After 9S had failed to show up for dinner, worry had eaten away at the back of her mind for hours. He wasn’t in his room, or with 21O’s birds. Not even 6O had seen him around. 

Not wanting to whip the other soldiers into a panic, and to keep out of their work, 2B keeps her search to herself as best she can. She drifts through room after room looking for any sign or scent of him. Even as the other scouts file in one after the other, 9S isn’t among them, and they have no idea where he was. 11S mentions that 9S was given a simple shopping list from Jackass and that it shouldn’t have taken him this long to be back. 

“Maybe he went out into the woods?” 801S offers. “Did he say anything about meeting him somewhere?”

2B sighs, “No, but I haven’t looked outside the city yet.”

42S begins to wax poetic about her and 9S having a moonlight tryst in the woods again, but 2B ignores his nonsense and pushes past the group of boys. If it were the case, 9S would have said something to her. It isn’t like him to vanish without a trace. Someone always knew where he was.

With the addition of the soldiers in regalia she does not recognize patrolling the streets, as well as the refugees congesting the shortcuts and back alleys, it’s much more challenging to slip through unnoticed. One of the soldiers in strange, hooded armor stops her just in front of the city gates and tries to corral her as if she were a confused citizen. Despite their self important posturing, it only takes a thinly veiled threat from 2B to make them stand aside. She is, after all, the most dangerous thing within these walls.

The moment the gate opens to her, 2B bolts into the woods. Foliage and underbrush rush past her; prey animals scatter in all directions at the sudden approach of a predator. Her dark, keen eyes hone in on any and all movement in the quickly darkening forest. Every shifting shadow or rustling leaf could be a lead—but all she finds are terrified animals.

Her search takes her to the clearing where she and 9S had met not long ago. A strange sense of nostalgia twists in her stomach and she can’t decide if she finds it unpleasant or not. What is discomforting to her is that there is no sign of 9S anywhere. She had half expected to find him sprawled out in the leaves with a rose between his teeth, like in 6O’s romance novels. She...wasn’t sure what she would do if she had found him like that.

Since the forest holds nothing to help her search, not even the faintest scent, 2B huffs and decides to move on. Searching the entire forest would not only take too long but also draw too much attention to herself. Besides, 9S is probably back at the barracks by now. Hopefully.

Instead of returning to Vigo through the gates, 2B scales a nearby tree and leaps onto the top of the wall. If it were just a bit darker out she would have simply transformed and flown back, but that would terrify the townsfolk. Coatyls rarely left their ancestral home anymore, and humans have such short cultural memories. She’d be shot down within seconds, mistaken for a flying demon or a large bird of prey come to snatch up their children.

She slinks through the back alleys with ease, cutting across rooftops and walls as if they were treetops. The scent of seared flesh catches her attention for a moment but she quickly attributes it to vendors and families cooking their dinners. Her stomach rumbles and her mouth waters at the thought of meat (or potatoes). Once she finds 9S she’ll drag him with her to find something to eat. Humans seem to like eating with others.

As the barracks comes into view, something catches 2B’s eye. People she doesn’t recognize rush into the building. The low rumble of voices shouting over each other can be heard, and it’s only when she gets a little close does she hear what they’re saying. They demand one thing after the other. Entry to the building, a meeting with White, the start of an inquisition. Something must have happened in the time she was gone—something that makes worry twist in her stomach.

She enters the barracks through an unattended back door and makes her way through the winding stone corridors towards where the scouts normally congregate.

“-...9S…” a female voice says, her voice straining on his name.

2B stops in her tracks and listens for more information.

“-....Executed…” another, tired voice adds.

Her stomach drops. Without thinking, she follows the conversation. She has to know what was happening. She has to make sure 9S was okay.

2B rounds a corner to see Jackass all but sprinting towards White’s temporary office followed by 6O and 21O, who wrings her robes in her hands and wears a look of pure distress. It’s the first time 2B has seen her so shaken, which only reinforces her fears.

She lurks behind them as they enter White’s office. She is not an official part of their army; a meeting like this is barred for her. 2B lingers by the doorway, only slipping inside once attention turns away from the three women who file in.

“So You dare to sit here and deny the fact that there are half-breeds within your ranks,” a bearded man shouts, his face turning the same shade of red as his cape, “when we have detained one?!”

“Senator, our army does not harbor the enemy,” White says, her voice as cold as ever. “However, that does not mean it is impossible for one to slip through the cracks unnoticed, especially one such as him.”

2B bristles at his name, but remains silent and composed.

“It did look...disturbingly human,” another man said, this one much older and wizened compared to the man in the red cape. “It is not unheard of for demons to mimic humans in order to worm their way into our ranks.”

“Yes. There have been several cases, even recently.” White responds and shoots an icy look at the man in the red cape. “Now then, if you would release the soldier in question into my custody we can begin our disciplinary process. If you have recommendations on what course of action we should take, now would be the time to say so.”

“We will not be releasing it,” the Senator growls. “It is to be publicly executed by beheading tomorrow at dawn.”

The words hit 2B with such physicality that she recoils. Time seems to slow around her as the gravity of the situation begins to sink in.

9S is going to die.

They’re going to kill him, simply because of his blood.

And it makes her furious.

She pushes past a number of muttering strangers, past 21O who tries to hide the tears welling in her eyes, past 6O who comforts her, and past nobles who balk at her impudence.

“How dare you,” 2B snarls.

“Excuse me?!” the Senator shouts with an indignant gasp. “General, who is this?!”

“9S has done nothing. He is innocent, and you’re going to kill him?” 2B slams her fist onto the table with such force that the ancient wood creaks. “You disgust me.”

“That’s enough.” White says, keeping her voice low. “2B, you do not have a say in this matter at all.”

“You would let 9S die?!” 2B snaps at White. “After all he’s done?!”

“2B…” There’s a dangerous edge to the Commander’s voice that makes 2B shiver involuntarily.

“How can you sit here and do nothing to stop this?!”

“That's enough.”

White rises from her seat and stands at her full height. For the first time since she’s met the Commander, 2B realizes how tall she is. White practically dwarfs her in both height and physical mass. There’s a power within her that feels...wrong...to 2B. It’s enough to make her back down.

“General,” the Senator begins, also visibly shaken by White’s voice, “with the discovery of this half-breed within your ranks, the integrity of your soldiers is called into question.”

2B, though shocked into silence by White, barely suppresses a snarl when the Senator begins speaking again.

“Just how many of the enemy could be hiding within, seeking to learn our secrets?”

“There are none,” White says with definitive strength. “There are no half-breeds in my army. 9S is simply an outlier and will be...taken care of come tomorrow morning. We do not have the manpower to divert our resources away from the blockade to mount this inquisition of yours.”

Both Jackass and 21O stiffen, but maintain themselves far better than 2B does.

“Unbelievable! You- I can’t stand by and-”

Suddenly, Jackass storms over to her and grabs her by the arm. “Shut up,” she growls as she drags 2B out of the room. 2B tries to resist, but even all of her strength isn’t enough to stop Jackass.

21O and 6O follow them out after being rudely beckoned by Jackass, who drags the struggling 2B as if she were a small child.

“Let go!” 2B shouts the moment the doors behind them shut. She rips her arm away from her and bares her teeth at Jackass. “How can you let this happen?! He’s one of your-”

“I told you to shut up,” Jackass growls under her breath. “Put the fangs away and listen to me for a godsdamned second.”

2B looks between 21O, 6O, and Jackass. As much as she wants to storm the dungeons and save 9S herself she knows it would not be that easy. It’d most likely do more harm than good in the end. She looks at Jackass, the lieutenant with eyes like bottled lightning, and waits silently for her to continue.

“I got a plan.”

“What are your motives, half-breed? Why are you stealing our people?”

9S looks up at the masked man through one eye. His other is blackened and almost swollen shut. The area around it aches like his leg and chest, like broken bones do. Blood trickles from broken teeth torn out with white-hot pliers, only to be spit out onto the cold stone floor when too much pools on his tongue.

“I don’t...have any…” he breathes, “I just...want to go home.”

Unsatisfied with his answer the man delivers a crushing kick to 9S’ stomach. He coughs violently and spits up more globs of blood.

“Where is your commander?” the masked man growls.

“Please…” 9S sobs, “please, I’m not the enemy!”

The masked man grumbles something that 9S can’t hear and saunters over to a small brazier he had brought into 9S’ cell. Thin pieces of wood crackle with embers, heating a bar of iron to the point that it glows with a sinister white light. The man picks up the bar with a heavily gloved hand, causing tiny embers to scatter into the darkness.

9S can only whimper as the man holds the searing metal close to his chest. The heat is enough to burn his pale skin without even touching it. Parts of his chest start to blister, going from angry red to a sick white within seconds.

“You will die tomorrow regardless of what you say to me,” growls the man. “There is no point in holding onto your secrets, demon.”

“I’ve told you...everything…” 9S wheezes. He tries to push himself further into the wall as even the rough-hewn stone digging into his blistered back is preferable to the burning iron.

“Wrong answer.”

9S braces himself as best he can but even after hours of this vicious cycle, but the moment the iron bar touches his skin he lets out a strained howl. The bar slides through like a knife through butter. Fat and muscle alike melt and sear; blood seeps out and bubbles into steam instantly. He wails for mercy till his throat gives out, leaving him silently gasping in agony.

After what seems like hours, 9S’ tormenter removes the iron from his chest and places it back into the brazier. The headsman stands over 9S, darkening the already dimly lit cell. The only sound in this dismal place is the crackle of fires and his own choked sobs. Everything else is as silent as the grave.

“The pain will end when you answer my questions,” the masked man says.

9S’ pulse roars in his ears, drowning out any sound beyond what his own battered body makes. He tries to take deep, even breaths, but each one is anguish; he trembles with pain from even the slightest movement. Sweat drips down his body, causing him to shiver violently in the cold, stagnant air of the dungeon. He closes his eyes for a moment. Everything in his primal mind says to keep his eyes open, to fight back, to run away. But he’s bound to a wall, his vision blurring from pain. It didn’t matter in the end. He would be dead soon anyway.

A heavy door slamming snaps him out of his stupor. 9S knows not to get his hopes up, but the footsteps approaching only spur on those thoughts. It could be Jackass, the Commander, or even 2B coming to release him. Jackass and White would reprimand him to no end, but any amount of verbal berating would be like a gentle maiden whispering sweet nothings in his ear by comparison. 2B would take him into her strong arms, hold him close to her chest, and protect him from anyone attempting to take him from her.

Though none of these wistful thoughts come true, the reality is somehow stranger than 9S’ imagination. Two figures, both of them male and the exact same height, stand outside of his cell conversing with the masked man. Their negotiations end by the time 9S forces himself back to consciousness, and the two men wave order the headsman to leave them. 

“Hello, 9S.” 

Adam’s smooth voice feels like honey being poured into 9S’ ear. He had only encountered the upjumped councilman and his brother eve in passing, but the impression stuck with him. It was hard to forget the flowing, alabaster hair of Adam, Eve’s incredible muscle definition (and aversion to shirts), and their piercing red eyes that seem to glow in the dim lighting. Their sweet stench overpowers the dungeon’s mildew, blood, and piss smells. It sickens 9S, even more so than the inhumane chittering of the girls in red that linger just outside his vision.

Why had this faux politician and his bodyguard brother saved him from being executed tonight, and why were they here now? Why had they demanded to be alone with him?

“Go...away,” 9S hisses.

Adam chuckles. “Come now, that’s no way to treat a benefactor.” He kneels in front of 9S, smiling widely. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

9S recoils at Adam’s breath, which stinks of rotting fruit. “I know...what you two are,” he spits. “You’re...demons. Real ones…”

Again, Adam laughs. “Yes, you are correct. But, like all apes do, you fail to grasp the intricacies of the situation. My brother and I, we were made to look like you, talk like you. We even bleed like you do. All in the pursuit of a more...gentle conquest.”

“We’re like you,” Eve says, “but better.”

“I’m nothing...like you two monsters,” 9S groans. “I wasn’t constructed. I was born...I think...for myself….I’m not...evil.”

“Foolish ape.” Adam grins and takes 9S’ chin in his hand, forcing him to look into his crimson eyes. “What is an Incubus? A spy. An insurgent. They plant their seed in the human population, grow our numbers within the enemy. They draw power from their victims to spread their influence even further. Given a simple signal, these spawn awaken to their true nature and join our ranks as thralls.”

Adam’s words twist in 9S’ stomach more than any knife could. His whole life he’s fought with his heritage, with self-hatred. He’s worked so hard to deny that part of himself that it’s like the bursting of a dam when it’s dredged into light.

“Us Homunculi aren’t much different.” Eve chimes in, idly tapping his clawed gloves on the bars.

“No, we’re not,” agrees Adam. “But you, dear boy. You are different than the other ape spawn.”

“Wh...what?” 9S shivers at Adam’s words, bracing himself for...he’s not sure what.

“You have...awakened on your own, so to speak,” explains Adam. “You have drawn power from something no ape spawn, Incubus, or any other demon has. It’s very...interesting.”

“I don’t...understand.”

“The dragon, boy. You’ve managed to mate with a dragon.”

9S’ pain-addled mind races, trying to put the pieces Adam has laid out for him together. He tries to recall what he felt like after...meeting with 2B in the woods that day. He remembers pain and pleasure in equal measure. He remembers waking up in the infirmary in a stupor, but he didn’t feel stronger...or did he? Something had happened during the fight with Grun. A surge of power that had rushed through his body. He had felt lighter, his muscles tighter, and something that 2B said started to take shape once again.

She had mentioned his eyes were gold now.

“The implications of this are fascinating to me,” Adam says, jolting 9S out of his thoughts. “What did you do that allowed you to overpower a dragon?”

The underlying meaning of Adam’s question makes bile roil in his gut. “I didn’t-...”

“What would happen if you continued to mate with and draw power from this dragon? The possibilities are endless. Even now, you were able to hurt the Ocean Engine enough for it to ignore multiple warships. And yet ....” Adam’s face shifts from elated curiosity to a frown of disappointment. “And yet, here you sit. Broken and beaten within an inch of your life. Overpowered by a mob of fearful apes.”

“Why didn’t you fight them?” Eve asks, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity, “They hurt you so badly, and you didn’t fight back? I don’t get it.”

“Yes, Eve, I agree.” Adam nods. “I don’t understand either.”

“I…” 9S closes his eyes, as if that would hide his shame, “It...I couldn’t have fought off that whole mob. They would have swarmed me in seconds if I actually fought back. I lashed out at someone, broke their arm I think...It just made them angrier.” He sighs and lets out a weak, bitter laugh. “It would have disappointed my mother, too.”

9S can’t suppress the tears that begin to flow as he thinks about how broken 21O must be. But there’s little time to dwell on that, as Adam lets out a long, sinister laugh that chills him to the core.

“To think that a swarm of apes could defeat a demon, even an ape spawn, is absurd. Without your...equalizers, as you call them, they are nothing but animals playing at something more. You have much more power than you realize, little ape spawn.”

“I don’t…” 9S mutters, “...What do you mean?”

Adam chuckles darkly and backs away, leaving Eve to take his place, “Show him.”

Cyan energy crackles around Eve’s hand, “Sure thing, brother.”

Before 9S has a chance to protest, or even scream, Eve clamps his clawed hand around his face. It’s like being burned again, but this time it surges through 9S’ body like liquid fire. He howls, his voice rattling the air around them. Every muscle seizes and spasms. His heart beats so rapidly he thinks it has stopped for a moment. 

Soon, 9S’ body begins to contort. His bones grind together. They harden and stretch as the muscle around them bulges so as not to be crushed under the new mass. His skin stretches to accommodate the changes. It splits open on his upper arms, his calves, thighs, and shoulders, only for new tissue to quickly stitch them back together. His previous injuries begin to heal as well. New, rough skin grows over the burns on his chest and back, the sensation just as agonizing; like thousands of thousands of ants skittering beneath his skin. The bones in his broken leg fuse together as well, though in an awkward and painful way that makes the leg look crooked and wrong. A similar sensation plagues his forehead, where his nub-like horns are. They sprout out rapidly, growing new branches and a rougher texture similar to a stag’s antlers. The sudden weight makes his head dip forward, allowing 9S to see the pulsing golden veins that snake beneath his skin. His tail, now much thicker and with multiple barbs, thrashes wildly on the ground, only to be pinned beneath Adam’s boot.

9S lifts his head to roar, scraping his now elongated fangs against the meat of Eve’s palm. The only thing he can think about is how much it hurts and how much he wants to hurt them for doing this to him. He thrashes against his restraints, rattling the chains and bending the plate that holds them to the wall. Despite his new strength, the iron shackles hold firm, crushing his wrists inside them.

“This is the power you wield, boy.” Adam says, glaring down at him with disgust. “Escape is at your fingertips, yet you lash out at your benefactors like a beaten dog.”

Again, 9S lets out a furious roar and gnashes his teeth at the twins.

“That’s enough, Eve.” he commands, “Any more and he’ll die before his execution.”

Eve pulls his hand away reluctantly. Almost immediately the lightning that courses through 9S’ veins retreats. His body shrinks down to his demure, natural size. The antlers fall from his head and disintegrate to ash. Exhaustion replaces rage, agony replaces the will to fight. He slumps against the wall, barely able to breathe or hold his head upright. His mouth aches with thirst, each breath only invites more dryness into his dehydrated body.

“How disappointing.” 

With that, Adam and Eve leave 9S. They don’t even bother to lock his cell.

He chokes, “2B….please….2B….” 

He doesn’t even have tears left to cry. 

“2B….help….don’t leave me alone….I don’t want….to die….”

“Please….help me….”

But nobody came.

#nier fanfiction #nier automata #2B #9S #nier jackass #nier commander #fanfic #fantasy au

[musical-in-theory]

Magnificently Malcontent Pt 12

Marvin swayed on his feet. His body ached, and pain continuously shot up from his feet like a constant lightning bolt. He had been preparing the ritual for the past two days. It would have taken much less time to complete if the mute hadn’t found them too early and caused him and his master to relocate.

    Something itched in the back of Marvin’s head when he thought about how the youngest ego found them. It felt as if he had forgotten something very important, but it was just outside of his reach. He shook the thought from his head. His master had already told him to ignore that feeling, that it was dangerous to indulge.

    Marvin walked around the sigil he had repainted on the floor of the new hideout to put the finishing touches on it. Everything was perfect and in its correct place. Anti would be pleased. He looked around for him, but remembered he was out on business that he wouldn’t share with Marvin.

    His shoulders slumped with the realization of just how tired he was. The magician hadn’t had any free time since he’d been taken by Anti in a long time. Marvin took another step and collapsed to the floor as his legs gave out beneath him. Marvin cried out, “Damnit! As if I couldn’t get any more useless!” He slammed his fist against the ground and held back frustrated tears.

    The magician took a deep breath and scooted himself over to the nearest wall. As he leaned up against the worn exposed brick, he closed his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. His tired hand ran over the rough edges of his cards. Marvin opened his eyes in surprise. He had completely forgotten about his tarot cards. He took the deck out and fanned it out before him. The familiar feel of the sleek plastic and buzz of energy radiating from them comforted the magician.

    “I suppose a small reading couldn’t hurt. I can’t really do anything else until Anti gets back anyways.” Marvin mumbled to himself and then laughed bitterly, “I can’t really do anything.” Marvin crossed his legs and tried to sit a bit straighter. He stacked the cards and began shuffling them with an expertise that came from years of dealing with them.

    The sound of cards hitting against cards echoed through the room and filled Marvin’s ears. It was so similar to the constant static that had been following Marvin around, and yet it was completely different. Both left him feeling relaxed and comforted. However, the static was dull and warm and soft. It carried everything away from him, every problem, every worry. The cards were sharp and cold like an ice bath. They shot through his senses and connected him to all the energy the universe provided. It shocked and excited and… itched.

    A hazy memory dragged itself to the forefront of his mind. It was of himself surrounded by 4 figures, their faces blurred out. He was giving them a tarot reading with these same cards. He flipped over a card, the Fool. One of the figures in front of him seemed to take mock offense to the card as the others laughed. Marvin laughed alongside them- the memory glitched- him. There was only one figure now. His face was clear as day. It was Anti, only Anti. Had… hadn’t there been others just a moment ago? No. No, Marvin would’ve remembered.

    Marvin shook his head again. It didn’t matter. He’d feel much better after a reading. At least he hoped so. Marvin took a cleansing breath and shook off any negative energy he had been feeling. He pushed all of his focus and internal energy into the cards and a question. It was a question he hadn’t voiced for fear of invoking his master’s wrath. What’s missing?

    Marvin flipped over the first card. The two of cups, the doctor’s card. Marvin scrunched up his nose. Was he sick? Why would a doctor be missing? He thought maybe the next card would help clarify, but he turned over Justice. Normally he would associate this card with so-called heroes, but that made even less sense than the two of cups. The only connection the two have are that they can represent people who save others. Marvin doesn’t need saving! He’s fine where he is.

    Marvin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. One more card. He flipped over another. This time it was the five of pentacles. This card represented strained relationships often resulting in depression and hopelessness. Marvin was tempted to throw his cards in frustration. None of this made sense. A doctor, a hero, a lover’s quarrel. These cards didn’t apply to him! They applied to… An enraged expression passed over the magician’s face. These cards applied to the men chasing Anti and him. Why the hell were the cards pointing towards his enemies? Perhaps they meant that the “missing” feeling won’t go away until they are defeated? Yes, that had to be it.

    Marvin went to put away his deck, but was stopped by a change in the cards’ energy. It was pulling his hand towards another card in the deck. The High Priestess. This card was special to Marvin. Not only was it a card that was close to his own card, the Magician, but it also grounded him. It represented the inner voice and a wise soul. Marvin laid it down beside the other three cards and felt a rogue tear slip down the side of his face. His hand lingered on the last card.

    All of his frustration and anger fizzled out and dissipated. The dull ache of exhaustion returned in its stead, accompanied by a new mental fatigue. Sweet darkness began to envelope him as his eyes shut, and his head dipped down and rested on his chest. The last thing Marvin saw before sleep overtook him was a light glow emanating from the four cards in front of him.

    Marvin suddenly found himself in a dense fog. He could hardly see his own hands a foot away from his face. It didn’t help that there was only a dim light overhead casting everything in eerie glow. He picked himself up off of the ground expecting his leg to scream at him, but it was completely fine. In fact all of his previous pain had vanished.

    He picked a direction and started walking, trying to find anything that would lead him to answers. After what felt like an hour, Marvin stumbled upon a new scene. The fog opened up to show his bedroom, exactly as he left it. Everything was in its place, and everything was neat and tid- the scene glitched. Abruptly the setting shifted to that of a chaotic mess. Scorch marks on the walls and floor, and broken glass and mirror shards scattered among various tomes and scrolls on the ground, In the middle of the wreckage was the magician himself with strings strangling his body. It looked as if he was caught in a web.

    Marvin tried to look away. His hazy mind tried to justify what he saw in any way possible, but even he couldn’t deny what those strings were. They were Anti’s. Marvin’s breathing picked up as his heart raced. His master wouldn’t. Marvin was with him because he wanted to be. This was Marvin’s choice, wasn’t it?

    That’s when the voices started. Marvin heard himself first. His enraged voice echoed throughout with cries of frustration and panic. He heard every excuse he gave to his brothers, every slam of his door. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. It felt wrong. Then he heard Anti. At first Marvin was relieved. Anti was here to save him. But then he heard the glitch’s persuasions. He listened as Anti pushed him to go deeper into dark magic and how he was the one to lead him away from his family. Finally he heard his own agreement to become a puppet and the tightening of his strings. Marvin felt sick. It sounded like the tightening of a noose.

    His legs felt weak. Marvin backed himself into a corner of the room and slid to the ground. His mind spiraled. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. Where was the static? He needed it. It would make all of this go away. Marvin buried his head into his hands and curled into a ball. “Someone, please. Please save me.” he whimpered.

    Another figure emerged from the fog. He took in the scene slowly and scanned over every detail. The figure shivered as he listened to the audio replaying over and over again. Once his eyes landed to the quaking mess in the corner of the room, he rushed over to it. Marvin felt the man’s hands lay on his shoulders. He flinched away from the touch, scared it would be just another trick of this place.

    The stranger stepped back for a moment, but then he tried again, this time using his hands to coax the magician to look up at him. Marvin slowly peered over his arms and stared at the man. He looked like he was about Marvin’s age. He was dressed in a blue vest and a bowler hat. Marvin cringed a bit at the style. He had a bushy mustache and monocle resting on his face. The stranger seemed familiar to him, but he wasn’t sure why.

Then the fog cleared. “Jameson,” Marvin choked out. His little brother. His best friend. Everything came flooding back to the magician. His memories of his old life and his family and- and… and what he did.

Jameson smiled brightly as he heard Marvin say his name. “I’m here Marvin. I found a way to reach you using the dream link you set up, remember? The one that helped me after I kept having nightmares of Anti.” JJ signed slowly. Marvin flinched again when he saw him sign that name. “The others didn’t think it would work anymore, but I just knew it would. I’m here to help you come home.” JJ started to reach towards Marvin, but the magician shoved him away.

“You need to leave, J. You need to go away and stay away. I did this. I’m a danger to the family. I-I’m no better than Anti.” Marvin got up and began walking back the way he came. He knew that if he left with JJ that the glitch would come after all of them. Marvin caused this mess. He was the one that had to deal with the consequences.

Marvin stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He spun around and saw JJ with tears in his eyes. “No! Stop! That’s not you talking. That’s Anti. Come home, please! You can beat him. You can do anything. You’re Marvin the Magnificent.”

Marvin wanted to believe that everything would be alright. He really did. He wanted to go home and pretend that none of this ever happened, but that wasn’t reality. Reality was that he was a screw-up. He was dangerous. Magnificent? More like malfunctioning. “I’m sorry JJ. Just forget about me. Tell our brothers that I’m sorry for everything and that I love them so much. I have to go back. Anti is probably waiting to punish me for falling asleep. Goodbye.”

Marvin turned on his heel, not daring to look back at his sobbing brother. JJ didn’t deserve this, but Marvin did.

The magician woke back up in the same position he fell asleep in. He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but felt tears instead. This puzzled him. Why had he been crying? What happened? Marvin quickly dismissed the questions. Questions were dangerous. Questions got him punished. He pushed himself off of the ground and limped back over to the sigil. There was work to do before his master got back.

As quick as it left, the fog returned and the strings tightened.

Thanks for reading everyone! I think this series will be coming to a close soon. I have big plans for the finale. Unfortunately I’ll be gone for two weeks. Love you all!

Taglist:

@beerecordings @rachelclutch @egopocalypse @hexatrash @nikkilbook @egos-n-others @antibeaneverybody @whydoilovesomanyvillians @aether-mae @the-rampaige

#magnificently malcontent #writing in theory #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #henrik von schneeplestein #chase brody #jackieboy man #jacksepticeye #jse egos #jse fanfiction

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo square: Power Swap

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Thor/Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, JARVIS Tags: Power Swap, Pre-Relationship, Wise Thor, H/C, Angst, Magic Words: 4.775

Summary: It would have been too easy if the spell only made Thor an expert on nuclear phsyics and Bruce able to swing Mjolnir. Instead, Thor is turning green, battling with the Hulk stuck in his body, and Bruce cannot touch anyone without shocking them with the electricity flying from his fingertips. Meanwhile, New York is living through the longest thunderstorm in recorded history. Nothing is ever simple where the Avengers are concerned. 

---

The full extent of the spell does not become immediately obvious, which is a small miracle, considering the instant panic that breaks out when the Hulk goes down with a roar in the blinding light, and Thor crashes to the ground like a marionette with his strings cut.

It all happens so suddenly that no one can tell exactly what happened. They did not even know the guy in the funny hat they were fighting could wield magic until he started attacking them with coloured lightning bolts from his hands and turned nearby stones and objects into animated suits of armour fighting for him. If magic were not one of Tony’s least favourite things in the world, the guy would have gotten bonus points for his imaginative attacks.

Even before the light from the magic explosion has faded, Tony directs a small grenade at the two animated suits of armour he is fighting and launches into the air to check on his friends. Possible danger aside, they just saw two of their strongest fighters go down. Two of their friends. He trusts the rest of the Avengers to take care of the battle so long.

“They’re alive but unconscious,” JARVIS tells him, scanning the debris before Tony has a visual on them.

Tony finds Thor first. Lying on the ground, he looks fragile despite his massive form. Despite JARVIS’ reassurance, he kneels down and, retracting the gauntlet on one hand, checks for a pulse. He finds it immediately, strong and steady, appearing almost angry in its intensity.

“Come on, buddy,” Tony mutters as he reaches out to shake Thor’s shoulders, “wake up.”

There is no reaction. On the first glance, there is no visible wound either. No blood, no broken bones, not even a dent in the armour.

Just unconscious, Tony thinks to himself as he studies the vitals JARVIS brings up helpfully in the HUD. That is certainly not good but nothing Tony can do anything about right now. Further answers have to wait until Thor wakes up.

“Keep an eye on him,” Tony says to JARVIS before he turns around and goes looking for the Hulk.

Anyone able to take down the Hulk is a more serious opponent than they first thought. After only a few steps, Tony finds something even more worrying than that.

In the rubble, unmoving and mostly naked, is Bruce instead of the Hulk. The Hulk has taken hits before that knocked him out shortly, but never has he transformed back into Bruce this suddenly. They really need to have someone more versed in magic than Tony to look Thor and Bruce over.

First, Tony repeats his procedure with Bruce, checking for a pulse and trying to wake him. He is not actually relieved to find Bruce in the same condition as Thor.

The air is filled with an almost palpable tension, like when Thor is furious, causing storm clouds to gather around the tower. Tony hopes that means Thor is regaining consciousness.

“They’re unconscious but according to JARVIS not in immediate danger,” Tony informs the rest of the team over the comms. “We need to wrap this up quickly.”

And, surprisingly, they do. It is almost as if the wizard has lost all interest in the fight once he managed to take out two of the Avenger with his big ball of light. He laughs and taunts them, but does not create any more guardians for himself, and when Clint and Tony double their efforts to take him down, he vanishes with a twirl of his cloak. The way he is cackling makes Tony believe that this is not the last they have seen of him.

For now, though, they have more important concerns. They need to get their teammates home and make sure they are all right.

 ---

Thor wakes up screaming. Something is terribly wrong with him. His skin feels like it belongs to someone else, like something is scratching at it from the inside. His mind, too, is so full all of a sudden that he can barely grasp a single thought.

He hears voices talking over each other, some of them familiar, but some seem to come from inside his head.

Before he has a chance to collect himself, his world erupts into green.

Bruce comes to in a hospital room. That in itself is such a familiar sight that he merely sighs long-sufferingly, wishing the Hulk would not control his life to such an amount that, even when he is withdrawing into Bruce’s skin, it leaves him exhausted to the point of passing out.

When he sits up, intent on getting back to his room to get some real sleep, he notices he is not connected to the heart monitor. Not even an IV line is sticking out of his arm. No matter how often he told the doctors here that all of that is unnecessary – ignoring the fact of the Hulk’s sheer existence, nothing is actually wrong with him that means he needs to be supervised – they always insist on the whole shebang.

It is strange that they would have refrained from doing so all of a sudden. He tries to think back to what happened, but all he remembers is the Avengers alarm going off and then just flashes and a sudden, blinding light. Then nothing.

Frowning, Bruce makes to get out of bed when he notices that the metal railing, even left down as they are, are wrapped with blankets. That, frankly, does not make any sense at all. Even if he was thrashing around, which sometimes happens after a transformation, he was in no danger of hurting himself with them.

A sudden noise has him looking up. Tony stands in the doorway, untypically reserved. Normally, he would have already come in and jumped onto Bruce’s bed, chattering either about the fight or some experiment he is working on. Tony Stark does not just hold back.

“How are you feeling?”

Bruce’s frown deepens. That, too, is strange. Tony cares a lot about all of them, but he is usually not this direct about it. The question has enough weight to it to really make him think about it, too.

“Calm.”

The moment Bruce says that, he realizes it is true. A stillness has taken hold of his mind that he has become utterly unused to, leaving all his thoughts to echo without an instant response.

The Other Guy is a constant presence in his mind. Sometimes, after a fight, he is muted when they are both exhausted. This utter silence, however, is frightening in its intensity. Bruce never thought the absence of his constant struggle to keep the upper hand against the Hulk would trouble him this much.

“What happened?” Bruce asks, his hands clenching around the bed sheet. He is frantically searching the recesses of his mind for the Hulk’s presence – and finds nothing.

“It’s all right, Bruce,” Tony says, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. He still does not come into the room, though. “Don’t panic. It’s –”

“What. Happened.”

Thunder crashes outside, making both of them flinch. Bruce would not have paid it any mind, if there was not plain worry written all over Tony’s face as he glances out the window. The sky outside is black, roiling clouds surround the tower as if it is their epicentre. It looks close to what it does when Thor is raging.

“You need to take a deep breath,” Tony says in a deceptively calm tone, still looking at the window. “Everyone’s safe. I’d come closer but you’re only going to shock me again if I do, and I don’t think my heart would like that.”

Tony is talking nonsense. He looks frazzled and tired, making Bruce wonder whether the battle was more taxing than what he can tell from the few snippets he remembers.

“Shock you?” Bruce echoes, even though that is not his main concern by far at the moment. If someone developed a weapon or method to temporarily – or permanently – take out the Hulk, Bruce needs to know. Although he is not sure what he would do with that information, not while he is on the verge of panic at not having to struggle against the Other Guy. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Sighing, Tony runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up worse than before. The rings under his eyes appear to get darker by the minute.

“You and Thor were hit by a spell,” Tony says, then falls abruptly silent. It has new worry shooting through Bruce. What if something serious happened to Thor? What if the Hulk did something to him? Before he can voice that, Tony continues, dragging each word out as if he would prefer to swallow them back down. “Now he’s very much green all the time and you have an electricity problem.”

Bruce cannot do anything but stare. He is sure he has misheard or that Tony is making a very bad joke. His face remains serious, though, even though none of this makes sense.

Looking down at his hands, Bruce notices for the first time the tingling in his fingertips. Cautiously, he reaches out for the bedrails and pulls the blanket to the side. A spark flies immediately from his index finger, travelling through the metal rail with a hum. He does it two more times, reaching the same result.

That is one hell of an electricity problem. Once that realization hits, Bruce is reminded of what else Tony said. He is not nearly ready to process any of what is happening right now. All he knows is that sparks are flying from his fingers and that his head and body, for the first time in years, are completely his own.

“Thor is what?” Bruce asks, deceptively calm.

Tony, to give him credit, looks right into Bruce’s eyes. “Thor is battling the Hulk.”

“As in the two of them are fighting somewhere or –” He trails off. None of this makes sense. The Hulk is not a separate entity, not in the way that he can just jump out of Bruce’s head into the real world without taking Bruce with him. They are one. In a way, Bruce understands that now although he has always refused to believe it before.

“Or,” Tony says like that is an acceptable answer. He looks decidedly uncomfortable. “Somehow you can call lightning, and Thor is housing the Hulk in his body.”

For a moment, everything is still. Neither of them moves, while Bruce’s mind is as empty as it has not been in forever. Then, all at once, panic hits.

“Where is he?” Bruce jumps to his feet, almost yelling. The thought of someone else having to carry the burden of the Hulk is unbearable, especially since there is no way of forgetting how much destruction Bruce wrought before he managed to get the slightest bit of control over the Hulk. “We need to sedate him. They might just tear down the whole tower and –”

“Calm down,” Tony cuts through his worried rambling. He finally takes a step into the room but comes to an abrupt halt, grimacing. There is a crackling tension in the air, Bruce notices that only now. “Thor has turned green several times in the last hour, but the only thing they’ve destroyed until now are Thor’s clothes. Their fighting is a purely internal thing. If that makes sense.”

It does not. The Hulk’s only purpose is to destroy. There is no reasoning with him, no getting the upper hand.

“Take me to them,” Bruce demands. He walks forward but stops when the air keeps crackling. He clenches his hands, hides them against his hospital gown, but it does not get much better.

“Thor has sent us all away. Roared it really,” Tony says and looks apologetic about it, almost as if he is afraid how Bruce will react to being kept away from the Hulk.

He should be rejoicing or, at the very least, be glad to be rid of the Hulk, however temporarily. He does not wish this burden on anyone else, though, much less a friend. And that is ignoring the pain and destruction they can cause.

“We need to take care of your sparkling problem first,” Tony continues when Bruce does not know what to say, what to do. “I brought you gloves.”

With automatic movements, Bruce catches the gloves out of the air when Tony throws them at him. They are surprisingly modest for something obviously coming out of Tony’s workshop. He pulls them on, not wanting to think about what they are made of or why he needs them. If he has shocked people just by them coming too close to him, it is no surprise why he was not attached to any of the monitoring devices and why no one dared to stick a needle in him.

Gathering his thoughts as best as he can, Bruce nods. “Now,” he says in a tone brooking no argument, “take me to Thor.”

Tony wants to argue. That is what he does. In the end, though, he merely shrugs and steps back to let Bruce through the door. They walk in tense silence for a few minutes directly towards Bruce’s lab and the safe room built into the back of it. Bruce is not sure he can stand the sight of someone else locked inside there.

“What’s with the storm outside?” he asks, mostly to distract himself, although he supposes the answer is not something he actually wants to hear either.

“That’s all you,” Tony says, less boisterous than he would normally have. “God of Thunder, remember. It’s been brewing since you began to wake up.”

Great, Bruce thinks, not only are they going to let the Hulk loose on New York, it is going to be during an unnatural thunderstorm too. He has seen first-hand the damage Thor can do with the lightning he calls, and Bruce would definitely prefer it if he did not accidentally burn down the whole city because he does not know how to control his new gift. Control has never really been his thing.

When they arrive in the lab, Bruce’s eyes fall immediately on Thor. He is sitting with his back against the wall, a blanket pulled over his naked form to allow him at least some privacy. His eyes are closed and his knuckles are white where he has clenched them around his knees.

Bruce’s heart immediately goes out to Thor. Nobody should have to experience that. The first transformations were the worst. Each time, Bruce thought he could fight it, could stave it off. He never could, and the more he fought, the worse it hurt.

“Thor,” he calls out without thinking, going up as close as he can. “You need to calm yourself. You need to –”

He would have rattled off all the useless advice people have given him over the years, mind tricks and mantras, none of which ever helped. In the face of his friend’s suffering, he feels helpless enough to try, though.

That is when Thor looks up, eyes falling directly on Bruce. They are gleaming green, the way Bruce has seen in the mirror far too often. Suddenly, Thor’s skin seems to ripple, and Bruce has the questionable honour of seeing someone transform into the Hulk for the first time. He feels every second, every bending of joints and stretching of muscles, as if it is happening to him, the pure agony of being ripped apart and stitched back together again wrong.

Then the Hulk is standing before him, mouth opened as if to roar. His eyes are still on Bruce, wild but strangely conscious at the same time.

“Banner,” Hulk roars and jumps forward, hands banging against the transparent wall separating them. His fists are bigger than Bruce’s head.

He truly is a monster, Bruce realizes as he takes an instinctive step back, unable to do anything more than to stare at the personification of his rage, suddenly all separate from him. This is the ugly truth of who he is.

Tony appears at Bruce’s side, hand hovering over his shoulder but never actually touching down. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Bruce wants nothing more than that. He needs to bring several walls between himself and the sight of Thor trapped inside the Hulk. “But I –” he protests anyway, although Tony thankfully cuts him off.

“Thor seems to have it under control,” Tony says, even though control looks very differently from this. “But the Big Guy reacted to your presence. Let’s give them time to settle.”

When Bruce turns towards Tony, he catches a reflection of his own eyes, seeing how wild they are even without the Hulk fuelling his inner fire.

“The Hulk does not settle,” Bruce argues, desperate for them to understand that. He has tried unsuccessfully for years. “He is made to destroy.”

Tony glances between him and the Hulk, obviously put off by the fact that they are actually sharing a place but not a body at the moment.

“Well,” he says slowly, “right now, he really wants to get to you. And since we don’t know what for or what that would do to Thor, I suggest we’ll give the two of them some room.”

Bruce has some ideas what the Hulk might want with him, none of them good, but Tony is right. No matter what this situation is doing to him, he cannot do anything that threatens Thor’s well-being. Not anymore than he already has.

“I can’t –” he says and trails off, unsure what to say, what to argue against.

“Come on,” Tony smiles, his whole face gentle, “let’s make your room electricity proof.”

 ---

Nobody sees Thor for a whole week. He remains locked up in his room or the Hulk cage and refrains from commenting on how he is doing.

Meanwhile, Bruce does not know what to do with himself. Without the Hulk, he feels strangely empty, helpless even. He cannot even work or do much research concerning the nature of the spell that switched their powers, since he cannot control the electricity flowing out of his fingers.

Outside, the thunderstorm does not stop raging.

 ---

The presence of the Hulk slams back into Bruce without warning, a sudden force pushing past his superficial thoughts and settling back in his mind with so much intrusive shamelessness as if it has a right to be there.

Bruce’s instinctive reaction is relief. Disgust at himself rises only moments later, but he cannot deny that this is the first time in over a week that he does not breathe with ever-constant panic constricting his chest. That relief is not even caused by the knowledge that Thor has to be free of the Hulk now. It is just that he is complete again, no matter how often that puts him at odds with himself.

Outside, the clouds are already dissipating as the first hint of sunlight hits New York underneath. Bruce does not even have to test touching something to know that he will not shoot any more sparks from his fingers. The constant tension and slight burnt smell that has surrounded him for the past week is gone.

Without thinking, Bruce gets up, intent on finding the rest of his team to tell them the curse is lifted, that they are back to normal. A sudden thought lets him pause in the hallway, though.

Shame fills him at the mere prospect of having to see Thor. How can they remain friends after what he put Thor through? How can they even keep working together? The Hulk is Bruce’s greatest failure, his greatest shame. He cannot stand the thought of having shared it with someone. Especially not someone he admires.

“JARVIS,” Bruce says cautiously.

“Yes, Dr. Banner?” JARVIS answers immediately. Once, Bruce had felt uncomfortable at that. By now, it has become just another part of normal, another safety feature in case he turns into the Hulk where he is not supposed to be.

“Could you please tell Tony that the spell seems to be reversed?” With some hesitation, he adds, “And that I don’t want to be disturbed? I think I need some time to deal with –”

He does not know how to finish his sentence, but it appears he does not have to.

“Certainly,” JARVIS says, sounding gentle. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

It is not even a complete lie that he needs some rest. Living with the Hulk is a constant struggle, even though the Hulk is suspiciously quiet at the moment. It is almost like he is humming, content to be home. The week of being free has apparently robbed Bruce of all his senses. Soon enough, they will fight against each other again. They always do.

 ---

Three days later, Thor’s patience runs out. JARVIS had announced several times that Thor was on his way to Bruce’s rooms, asking about his well-being, but Bruce had sent him away each time. Avoidance is never a solution, but he really does not want to have this conversation.

Now, though, Thor stands outside of Bruce’s room, having knocked and called for several minutes, showing no inclination of allowing himself to be ignored again.

“Bruce,” he says again, tone soft despite the booming of his voice. “I will not have you hide in your room.”

The alternative is to let Bruce, and therefore the Hulk, walk amongst them again. Surely, as someone who experienced the raw rage of the Hulk himself, Thor does not want that but is too kind to say it.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce decides to get this over and done with. He opens the door but finds himself speechless. This is definitely Thor standing in front of him, tall and magnificent, hardly changed, but Bruce cannot help but remember how it looked when he was torn apart to give room for the Hulk. The shame pooling inside his stomach is getting unbearable.

“You don’t –” he says, then tries again, “I’d understand if you want to stay away from me now.”

That is not what he wanted to say. He wanted to offer to leave to make it easier on all of them. Before he can correct himself, he is rendered speechless again by the sheer confusion on Thor’s face.

“Why would I want to do that?”

He sounds honest, and still Bruce cannot contain the startled and mostly bitter laugh falling from his lips. “You know what I am,” he says slowly, full of loathing. “You’ve felt the Hulk. You –”

“Know how strong you really are,” Thor interrupts him, no trace of doubt in his voice. “To live like this, with yourself split in two, I admire you. Fearing you would be an insult to both you and the Hulk.”

The thing is, Thor sounds honest. There is no mocking or scorn hidden anywhere in his tone or face. In a way, that makes it much harder for Bruce to believe him. He could have taken yelling or an outright fight. He could have packed his things and left like he has done a thousand times before. Instead, here he is, faced with an honesty he does not know what to do with.

“I’m a monster,” Bruce says, toneless but utterly convinced this will be it.

Thor frowns as if Bruce has displeased him. When he speaks, though, it is still not at all what Bruce expects.

“You are a man sharing a body with an honourable ally.” A smile tugs at Thor’s lips that looks almost fond, enthused with excitement. “The Hulk is not to be feared. He is –”

“You fought him,” Bruce cuts in, incredulous and certain he is missing something important here. “For an entire week, you were at war with that piece of me you got stuck with. So how can you pretend the Hulk is anything but to be despised?”

It is a miracle that nothing happened during this week, that Thor managed to contain the Hulk. Thor is much stronger than Bruce, of course, which is only partly due to him being a god. Still, it must have taken effort.

“He fought me,” Thor agrees with misplaced cheer, “because he woke up to find you gone.” He looks at Bruce for a long moment as if to make sure that he understood the words. “The two of you are tethered together. You are his safe haven. He naturally struggled against me. He –” Thor shrugs with a smile. “He called me a traitor for separating the two of you.”

No matter the conviction in Thor’s tone, Bruce cannot believe him. It is kind of Thor to try to make Bruce feel better about this, but Bruce has been fighting this for years. He created this demon sitting under his skin, constantly waiting for him to show some weakness.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce offers, unsure what else to say, how to make Thor realize that he is wrong.

“Don’t be,” Thor replies brightly. “We came to an understanding.”

With undisguised bitterness, Bruce mutters, “The Hulk doesn’t understand anything.” He truly is a creature beyond reason.

Shaking his head, Thor reaches out and puts his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, not withdrawing when Bruce instinctively flinches.

“He knows fear and love,” Thor says earnestly. “That in itself makes him relatable enough.”

Bruce wishes he had never opened the door. “I don’t – I’m sorry you were burdened with this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Thor counters immediately. He is still standing in the open door, full of patience. “It led me to see many a thing I was blind to before, even though it was right in front of my eyes.”

His gaze is warm and heavy as it rests on Bruce, speaking of things Bruce cannot quite decipher.

“What do you mean?” he asks despite knowing better. Some questions are better off unanswered.

“When I call, the storm comes,” Thor answers without explaining anything, “you calmed it.”

Just when Bruce was sure they were getting somewhere, Thor has to say something like this. A smile tugs at his lips that tastes purely bitter on his tongue. “You might have missed this, considering you were busy fighting the Hulk, but the sky has been rumbling for this entire week.”

Thor nods as if Bruce has made a good point and one that is not at all contrary to his own argument. “My storms are meant to bring about the end of armies. Yet the city still stands.” He squeezes his hand around Bruce’s shoulder before taking it back. “The storm has not wrought the chaos the thunder promised.”

“What are you saying?”

Bruce’s confusion only rises. He just does not know what is happening. Only a few minutes ago, he was ready to leave the Avengers, certain that they are better off without him. Now, though, he thinks Thor is trying to tell him otherwise.

“You are worthy of songs being sung for millennia to come. Perhaps I will write a few of my own,” Thor declares with the air of promise. His lips turn up in a crooked smile as he amends, “If you are willing to hear them.”

The friendship between them is apparently not over as Bruce had feared. On the contrary, Thor looks at him with a warmth that has not been there before, inviting and certain in a way Bruce has never been about anything.

“Don’t make your decision right now,” Thor says before Bruce can reply – which is a good thing because he is not sure what is required of him here. “Listen to what your guardian has to say. I will await your answer.”

With that, Thor turns around, a spring in his step that Bruce has not seen before. He is still not entirely sure what happened, but begins to believe that it was not a bad thing.

What he notices too is the slight crackling of the air that disappears with Thor. It has become familiar to Bruce over the past week, the constant presence of energy waiting to be released. He misses it.

When he walks back into his room, he listens into himself, half expecting the Other Guy to rage at how close Bruce let Thor come to him. Instead, he is humming almost in approval.

Nothing makes sense, that is the only thing Bruce is certain about at the moment. What he feels, too, is the wish to hear the kind of song Thor would sing about him. He just has to work on being worthy of it – and maybe accept that Thor thinks he already it. 

#marvel #iron man bingo 3000 #tony stark #thor #bruce banner #power swap #magic #hurt comfort #angst #hulk #fanfiction #ao3 #what is the ship name for bruce and thor?

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Bad Habits | Fostered Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

I feel like it’s been forever since my last writing update, but I’m back to spill the tea on Rewired’s 23rd chapter, Bad Habits. I feel like I’ve been writing this chapter for a millennium, though I think it’s actually only been around a month? It would’ve been completed sooner had it not been for school, but I’m happy to announce that your girl has been accepted into her top choice university and is officially slacking off from school starting now! (Just kidding but I will definitely be a lot more relaxed... I hope.)

I titled chapter 23 BAD HABITS, and oh is she filled with piping hot TEA.

BAD HABITS is split into four scenes:

Scene A: 

Reeve is chilling in a bathtub, smoking cheap cigarettes and drinking even cheaper margaritas. She feels like a queen, heH.

This is what I call a Classic Reeve Scene. She’s feeling superior, she doesn't think she’s better than you, she knows she is.

Scene B: 

Reeve reminiscing about her being a powerful almighty being the night before (in her eyes). If you remember my last Fostered chapter update for Younger, you would remember I mentioned intoxicated Reeve infiltrated Darren’s motel room at 2AM to make a case for why he should marry her. This is that scene as it goes wrong, lol cuz why would it not go wrong.

 TL;DR: Reeve has lost her bONKERs AND knows that if she can convince Darren (who is sort of NOTTT interested) to do anything with her, she is #Jesus << her words not mine

Scene C: 

We hop back into the fictive present where Reeve has finished her goddess bath, and is politely reminded by Foster that everyone is waiting for her outside and she’s taking forever to finish. Little does he know, she’s not planning to go outside to meet them because she’s going #Rogue, kids.

Foster says none of this, he’s more like: um soo so sorry but we outside haha okay!!

Scene D:

This is just the wrap up of the chapter where Reeve outlines where she feels she’s mentally at (she literally thinks she is a deity), and what she’s going to do. Instead of heading back home to Boston, she decides to hitchhike to New York City and con people for cashhh. Of course. 

This is the start of the end of the book! The plans are as follows (I hope they don’t change lols): Reeve hangs out in NYC for the moneyyy, heads back home, does some witchy shit, and vanishes because she’s powerful like that. 

This chapter was soooo fun to write. I originally didn't have this chapter in the book because I’d skipped so far in the future, Reeve had already gotten home. But, upon realizing this time jump was too large, I tracked back to the motel and wrote this bad boy. I think it’s definitely a chapter with attitude that most people would be turned off by (basically Reeve is cocky as fuhhh) but I dig it. She’s really embracing her inner Bitch, and I dig it.

The chapter title, BAD HABITS, sort of signifies all the things Reeve continues to do wrong but that she’s now accepted, like how someone would accept their bad habit of biting their nails (just me?). Reeve accepts that she is basically a bad habit, and is like: you know, I’m toxic but at least I’m POPPIN. I love her. This chapter makes Reeve feel like she is a magical being that can literally do anything, and shapes her attitude into the next book. 

Excerpts:

This is the opening paragraph of the chapter and basically sets the Mood for what the rest of this tragedy is going to be. Also we stan that bathtub aesthetic:

In the morning, I soak in the tub and sip on a margarita. I’m part demi-god, part tequila and lime. The tiles are dingy with mildew, and cracked along the spines, but their flower decals still make me feel rich. In my mind, they’ve been painted by a Slavic watercolorist, and imported to the US by ferry. Desperate college kids that laugh like Darren taking turns eating rocket pops and sticking them to the ceiling with grout. One of my last Egyptian cigarettes hangs limp, like a broken finger from my lips. Someone’s left a Playboy in the basket under the sink, and I page through it glumly, the naked women boring and unsexy to me. The bathroom’s wallpaper could be mouldy, but I call it vintage.   

The next excerpt I PG-ifyed so its meaning is slightly altered, but it mostly reads the same! Reeve is incredibly flawed when it comes to her views of other women, which you definitely see in this excerpt. She describes a hypothetical of what she believes will happen to Darren as he “grows up” and marries his (now ex) fiancée, Jo. Intoxicated Reeve has an infatuation with Darren, so is incredibly jealous that Jo was even good enough to catch his eye in the first place. Although she has never met Jo, she makes (v/ unfair) judgements about her: 

In New York, I’ll buy him designer cologne. He’ll feel so expensive, he’ll be tempted to sell himself just for the six-figure profit. Darren will grow up and get married to Jo, and have a child he’ll call Cassiopeia because Jo is probably a paranoid astrologer. She’s a trust fund baby, the woman who brings a clutch to a party and doesn’t know where to put it, undersexed, overdressed, going to church every Sunday at eleven in button-down coats that reach her wrists because she’s modest like that, praying grace before supper because she’s too orthodox not to. She’ll drag him to the confessional once a year, maybe twice, and there he’ll tell the priest about the woman on his ceiling, crumbling from the stucco. The woman stuck in his bathtub with a margarita, and an Egyptian cigarette, and a Playboy, and his dripping bottle of cologne. 

This is so subtle but my fave part of this ^^ excerpt is the fact that Reeve describes what will happen to Darren when he grows up as if ain’t grown already. That subtle jab got me SHOOK.

The next bit is some dialogue because I rarely share it and I dig Reeve + Darren’s dynamic here:

“Where are your cigarettes?” I asked, my hair tangled with vomit. I clarified, “You have a lighter. Only smokers carry lighters.”

“It’s for emergencies.”

“Bullshit. The gas is almost out.”

“I already told you. I don’t smoke.”

“I just want a cigarette. It’s not that complicated.”

“You bought a pack from the convenience store.”

“And I want one of yours.” 

(also the fact that only smokers carry lighters might be *fake news* but Reeve is really going for it today isn’t she.)

This is a prime example of my wild descriptions (I can’t just say something... not morbid???):

His lips bloody from where he’d chewed too hard. I drank it like venom, like on my obituary, I wanted it to say I’d been poisoned to death by his blood. I wanted to. He shrunk in on himself, his bones like tiny wired cages, and I propped onto my elbow. I thought, if I just wished long enough, I’d understand why he was crying. I would osmosis myself into him, and vomit the truth. 

cw: this next excerpt is a lil blasphemous and def doesn't reflect my beliefs, but in case it might offend, I’m leaving this warning here! 

Like an eight-year-old, he looked up at me in wonderment, and maybe to him, I was the prophet come to save him. Maybe I wore a gold halo, and a white dress, and I was ready to shove his head under the water and clean him. I really was God to him. The latest incarnation of Mother Mary. 

This is Reeve being wild--she has CLAIMED black magic folks:

I blew smoke in Darren’s face because I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to bewitch him, and make him admit I wasn’t the performer of black magic, but the magic itself. I wanted to make him regret meeting Jo and repent for even thinking about marrying her. I wanted him to realize I was the only one meant for him. I was the only person that ever mattered.

More Reeve being wild:

I slipped Darren down my throat like he was the antidote to my afflictions, which was untrue, because I was in fact the antidote to his. 

And can you believe it! She keeps going (cw: again for blasphemous content)!

I wasn’t like the Messiah to him—I was the Messiah. I was his shaman, and high priestess, and Aphrodite, and enchantress, and woman all in one. His converter, his lover, his naked Greek statue a masterpiece in the centre of the mattress. I wore a halo and a white gown, and I was his God, yes, his fucking God. 

Then we dip into scene C. This is a bit longer so lol hope its not awful ahaaahha. Foster has *just* knocked on the bathroom door:

“You smell nice,” I tuck a glut of soaking hair behind my ear. He’s ironed his shirt on the pull out board. Its cotton singe-y and sharp, perfect ninety degree angles.

“We’ll be in the car.”

“I have some extra,” I lie. “The tequila, I mean. If you want a drink. A little margarita?”

“I already had breakfast,” he says. He leans back, and pretends not to analyze the contents of the bathroom. “Are you okay, Reeve?” He’s talking about the empty margarita glasses, the burnt out cigarettes, the Playboy, the soaked cologne bottle. 

“I didn’t know margaritas could be so good.”

“Do you want me to call your mom?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that? She’s a drunk.”

He nods, but keeps his place, arms crossed protectively. “Well, we’re in the car.”

As he’s pulling back, I jar the door open farther, and catch him by the wrist. He snaps back like the spring of a slinky. I’m an acid burn to him. My fingerprints individual irons running down the perfect creases of his shirt. I tuck my towel tighter around my chest, and lean against the door, letting it fall back with me. Steam and smoke spiral out into the room, the spirits of previous tenants being let out of their bottles like fucking genies.

“I want you to take care of yourself, Foster,” I say, rubbing my fingers against the wallpaper opposite the cabinet. He nurses his arm like my touch is the equivalent to a lightning bolt. “You’re a good person. There aren’t many good people anymore. That’s precious. You’re fucking precious.” 

This is a line I liked because yaaas she’s accepting her flawsss:

My tequila mouth will stay tequila’d and never get sober. 

And we hit scene D as it opens with:

After the bath water has drained and my hair has air dried, I crawl out of the bathroom window and head west to the freeway. It’s dizzily hot and equally humid, but I feel like I’m on vacation in Cancun, and not climbing uneven Cincinnati pavement. Soon, Izzy will start complaining about how long I’m taking and send Foster back out again, and he’ll miserably knock on the door. When I don’t answer, Darren will join him, then unlock it with his spare room key, and I won’t be there, not under the bed, not in the tub, not spewing from the sink, or caught in the tooth of the chipped up margarita glass. 

And lastly: 

He’ll find the note on the desk. Be back, baby. Darren, I have your money. –R. Two hundred from his wallet, slipped into the elastic of my bra. He’ll cuss, as if Darren cusses, and they’ll leave because they won’t find me. Izzy will call me a motherfucker because I’ve stolen her sunglasses, and I am, and I like them. I’m the millionaire’s mistress, the politician’s prostitute, the substitute teacher who the high school boys fantasize about. I’m the clairvoyant who overcharges middle-aged women to have their palms read. The A-List celebrity starring in cheap R-rated chick flicks, who drinks spiked Shirley Temples and dances to pirated CDs on foreign cruise ships. I brush my teeth with 24-karat gold, and eat cucumber tea sandwiches on verandas in Paris, and watch the Tour de France with my boyfriend-for-hire who gives me orange oil massages, tells me my shoulder blades look like wings, tells me I’m his fucking angel. 

Aaand that’s it for this wild chapter, lol. While bits of it gave me a hard time, I’m rather liking the overall tone/atmosphere, and I’ll definitely miss writing in the motel!

I hope to be back with another update soon!

--Rachel

#writing #fostered #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Start of Something New Chapter 2 Pairing:  Todomomo, side Kamijirou Rating: T Word Count:  3,340 Summary: Momo is thrilled to be spending her winter break on her family ski vacation. Even though she’s anxious about graduating in the spring, she’ll have time to relax, enjoy the slopes and hang out with her best friend. Shouto is not thrilled to be stuck with his father for the entirety of his winter break. It’s anything but a vacation. Even with his siblings there, everything reminds him of his past and he just wants to get back to finishing school and moving on. When the two continuously run into each other at the lodge, both of them realize their vacations aren’t going to be what either of them expected. Read on AO3 Thanks to @its-love-u-asshole for reading this ahead, full fic under the cut!

The inside of the lodge smelled of firewood, with a hint of hot chocolate and wet snow. It was oddly comforting to Momo, a familiar smell bringing on a rush of memories of her time here. Her small snow boots with the fur around the rim pat against the floor, her excitement growing as she walked down the steps, eager to see her friend.

There were a few hours before dinner with her parents, and they knew she was dying to see Kyouka so they let her have a bit of free time to herself.

She made her way to the cafe on the second floor. It overlooked the bottom of the slopes, the tall windows big enough to watch skiers and snowboarders zip down the mountain. The smell of hot coffee wafted into her nose and the fire crackled softly in the distance.

Momo's lips pulled into a smile immediately upon seeing Kyouka. Her best friend was slouched into the couch, her feet pushed against the table in front of her. Her deep purple hair was pressed against the cushion of the couch, her signature red headphones covered her ears, and she bounced her knee up and down

It was an unsurprising position; her best friend was rather predictable.

Momo giggled softly, walking quietly up to the couch. She leaned over, waving her hand in front of Kyouka's face, causing her to jump up.

"Yaomomo!" she gasped, yanking her headphones down around her neck. "You finally made it!"

"Mhm! Sorry I took so long, Kyouka!"

Kyouka scoffed, but pushed herself up to hug Momo. "I guess I can forgive you."

"Phew!" Momo sighed a laugh lacing her breath. "I'm so grateful!"

"Yeah, I'm a pretty understanding person," she smirked, twirling the cord of her headphones around her finger.

Leaning towards her, a small smile pulled across Momo's lips. "So tell me about this boy?" she whispered.

"Fuck." Kyouka stated, as if she forgot she told Momo about him through text message.

"W-What?!" Momo asked, blinking, surprised by Kyouka's flat response.

Kyouka folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrow, leaning slowly to the side. She stared at the cafe for a moment before leaning back in towards Momo. "Yup. He's working."

"Oh! Great! I can meet him! I was thinking I wanted a hot tea anywa-" As she went to turn, Kyouka was quick to grab her arm, yanking her back.

"Wait!" she hissed. "You can't just go in there!"

"Eh?" Momo blinked, "Why not?"

"Because I already bought two drinks from him!" she exclaimed quietly, her dark purple eyes filled with a fear Momo didn't understand.

"Yes, but I've bought none," she said gently, turning her gaze towards the boy behind the counter.

He smiled brightly as he sorted through some cups. Actually, it looked like he was whistling... or... dancing? He was swaying his hips back and forth all goofily. His blond hair reflected against the cafe lighting, though he had one singular piece of dark hair. It was jagged looking, styled into his bangs to look like a dark lightning bolt. Oddly edgy; looks wise he did seem to be Kyouka's type...

And the way he danced around the empty cafe to the music... he also seemed too goofy? From simple observations, Momo now understood Kyouka's dilemma. He was certainly cute, but also maybe somewhat different than the normal boys Kyouka desired.

"Yaomomo. Stop staring," Kyouka scoffed.

"I wasn't!" Momo gasped.

"Yes you were!"

"This would never have happened if you had just let me buy that tea!" she said.

"He might think I sent you if you go and buy something from in there!" Kyouka hissed, flopping back down on the couch. "But whatever, do what you want?"

Momo bit her lip, glancing back towards the blond. "I don't know about that, Kyouka... he seems pretty lost in his music. I think you two would get along," she giggled gently.

Kyouka let her body fall further into the couch as she slouched down. "S-Shut it! Just... go and get your tea or whatever!"

"Okay! Do you want anything?" Momo said. Mostly she was excited to find out more.

"I want to throw you out that giant window," Kyouka muttered.

Pretending to look offended, Momo placed her hand over her chest. "How dare you, Kyouka? I'm going on a stealth mission for you, and this is how you decide to treat me?"

"Yup."

Momo rolled her eyes playfully. Kyouka could be oddly dramatic about boys. Of course, Momo knew she wasn't one to really judge. Boys were never really a focus of hers, and even when she did see someone she found attractive, she usually froze up, panicking about what to say.

Immediately, her mind shot back to the boy in the parking lot. His hair was so interesting, and his eyes were fascinating. She of course was well aware of what heterochromia was, but she never witnessed it in person. Actually, the more she thought on it, the more she thought he might have been one of the most attractive boys she ever saw...

And she couldn’t even say a simple greeting to him.

She wished she could remember the name the older man called out. Shou... taro? Shou... hei? No... none of those sounded correct. Not that knowing his name would really do her much good.

Her thoughts were already jumbled and she hadn't even seen him again. Really she couldn't blame Kyouka for being a little flustered.

Still, Momo was determined to get her tea. Partially because she wanted it, and partially because she was determined to learn more about this boy Kyouka found herself attracted too.

It was also strange to see someone new working at the cafe. For the past few years, Sero Hanta had been the main worker at the cafe. He was kind and very good at his job. He never once messed up an order, even during the busier hours. Momo hoped the boy moved on to something better, even if she would miss his large smile.

She walked towards the cafe, much to Kyouka's chagrin. The girl didn't say anything, she simply kept moving lower and lower on the couch. Pretty soon her entire body would either be on the ground or sunk into the middle of the cushion, whichever was easier for her to achieve.

Momo tried not to laugh.

"Hello!" she smiled, resting her hands against the counter.

"Howdy!" the blond replied, giving her a wave of his two fingers. He smirked and leaned against the counter. "How can I help you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. It looked as if he was trying to... pose for her? Maybe? If he was trying to hit on her, it wasn't working very well.

"Uhm... just a hot tea please. Chamomile, if possible." She squinted as she spoke, attempting to read his name tag. Kaminari, she thought it read.

"One chamomile tea, comin' right up!" he said cheerfully, moving his way over to the cups to pour some hot water.

"Are... you new here?" Momo asked tentatively. She didn't want to seem too curious and give him the wrong idea, but she was itching to learn more about Kaminari.

"Yup! My friend Sero helped me get the job. He's been so busy with exams he had to quit for a bit," Kaminari sighed, looking as though Sero died.

"Oh, I see! Good for him! Studying is important!" she said. She always considered herself to be studious... even now, with university and her blend of uncertainties, she never stopped learning. How was she supposed to decide what she was going to do if she gave up on studying altogether?

"Yeah..." Kaminari muttered, pressing the lid onto the cup.

"Do you not agree?"

"What? N-No! I mean... yes I agree... uh..." he trailed off and placed the cup back on the counter, sliding it across to her. "So I'm Kaminari Denki!" he said, quickly changing the subject. Maybe he wasn't very studious and Momo made him feel uncomfortable. "Are you a regular? I mean... since you noticed I was new and all. Or maybe you were just blown away by my dashing good looks!" he smirked.

"No, nothing like that. I'm a regular. I'm Yaoyorozu Momo, my family comes here around this time every year. It was surprising to see someone besides Sero behind the counter."

"O-OH! You're Yao... Yaomomo!" he said, pointing at her.

"Eh?" she blinked.

"Yeah! Your friend, Jirou? She told me about you! She's been waiting for you to get here! I was kinda hoping you might be later so we would keep talking," he muttered. "I-I mean, it's great that you're here and I'm glad I can put a face to your name!"

"Kyouka talked about me?" she said, raising her eyebrow. No one wonder she didn't want Momo to come over to buy tea.

"Oh yeah! She was really excited for you to get here! Is she over there?" Kaminari scurried to the other end of the counter. "Hi Jirou!" he waved.

For a moment, she popped up. Rolling her eyes, she waved back once, attempting to keep her cool demeanor.

"She's so cool," Kaminari sighed.

"She's my best friend," Momo smiled, reaching forward to take the tea. "You can charge this to my room, 440."

"Gotcha," he said.

As she turned to leave, she gasped, barely holding onto her tea. Walking up to the cafe was the half and half boy from earlier and a taller boy with white hair; his brother maybe?

This was her chance! She could speak to him and maybe not make a total fool of herself! But as he approached, Momo felt her throat get tighter and tighter. What was she going to say!? She could ask his name... but he was just a random guest! What if he didn't want people bothering him? And he was probably here with his family! He probably didn't want to speak to a random girl he didn’t know.

She was running out of time as he dragged his feet against the ground, following the taller boy who seemed to be rambling about something. Momo needed to think faster!

But as he stood right in front of her, she found she was once again at a loss for words.

~~

"I call the bed by the window!" Natsuo charged into the bedroom, swinging his suitcase on top of the bed with a loud thump.

Shouto shrugged, leaning his suitcase against the side of his bed. He really had no preference. Mostly he was jealous Fuyumi was given her own room. He understood why, and while he did enjoy Natsuo, his brother had far more energy than Shouto ever did, and he wouldn't have minded his own space away from the family antics.

"That way if someone breaks into our room, they'll get you before they get me," Natsuo said, continuing to speak as he swung the curtains open.

"Ah..." Shouto snorted, raising his eyebrow. "Glad to hear you care so much."

"I'm just teasing, lil' bro!" he laughed, staring out the window.

The slopes were covered in snow, expected of the mountainous area. When the city got snow, it generally melted fast, but here it stuck to the ground and coated the trees, glistening against the now setting sun. It was beautiful, and admittedly, Shouto was looking forward to getting out onto the slopes.

Skiing with his mother was always an enjoyable pastime. The wind whipping at his cheeks, the sounds of skis cutting through the thick, packed powder, all of it echoed in his mind.

"You, uh, excited?" Natsuo asked softly.

Shouto slowly approached the window, watching as the final few skiers and snowboarders enjoyed what was presumably their last runs of the day.

"Mmm..." he mumbled.

"You think it's gonna be weird?" Natsuo asked, as if reading Shouto's mind. He turned towards his brother, catching the concern in his eyes.

"...Yeah."

It wasn't worth it to lie to Natsuo; not when his brother obviously could sense something was off.

"I know," his brother said, and gently placed his hand on Shouto's shoulder. The weight was heavy, both boys bearing it on their own normally. This trip however, hopefully they could carry it together. "I don't think we've ever skied without her."

Shouto shook his head. "No... we haven't."

It never felt right. It still didn't.

"And you know Father is always bragging about how he's so great at skiing, but it was always Mom who really got into it. I think he just likes sitting in the hot tub at the end of the day!" Natsuo laughed. "I mean... I guess I can't blame him for it but still..."

"Mmm... I guess..."

Unlike the rest of his siblings, Shouto received the brunt of Todoroki Enji's frustrations. As the youngest, Shouto became his father's last ditch effort to have what he considered an 'intelligent family heir'. Toya was too aloof, and Shouto couldn't imagine his eldest brother ever coming back from abroad. Natsuo was far too distractible and rarely took things seriously. Fuyumi immediately rejected her father's plans, knowing she wanted to be a teacher from a young age. However, she was their father's only daughter, his princess, and since she most likely wouldn't carry on the Todoroki name, Enji set his sights on Shouto.

He pushed all of his effort onto Shouto, separating the boy from his siblings, and forcing him to study for rigorous hours. He expected high test scores, and he hired tutors to be certain Shouto was constantly learning. Though the man was barely around, working for the majority of his days and nights, he checked Shouto's grades constantly.

Shouto supposed it paid off, in a way. He received early confirmation he was going to be attending the best university in the city, which arguably was the best in the country. However, he couldn't afford to slack off for the rest of the year.

This trip was his only reprieve. And even then he was still trapped with his tyrant of a father.

"Hey, lil' bro, we'll make it fun, okay?" Natsuo said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I know it's kind of weird, but at least you don't have to study!"

Shouto bristled. He truly hoped he didn't hear the word for the rest of the trip.

"Right," Shouto muttered.

He wished it could be as simple as enjoying himself.

Natsuo pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face. "Hey, why don't we go explore? Apparently there's an indoor pool and a cafe on the second floor of this place! We have a solid hour before dinner."

"I dunno... I might just rela-"

"C'mon, Shouto! We get to stay in this amazing lodge! Let's explore!" Natsuo hooked his arm through Shouto's and dragged him forward.

Apparently he wasn't going to have a chance to say no. He sighed, stumbling after his eager brother. After all the energy was slowly drained from his being, he wouldn't mind a hot tea from the cafe.

The hallways of the lodge were cozy. The rooms all had large, brown wooden doors, resembling something one would find in an old style cabin. The floors were covered with a strange patterned red and orange rug, giving the hallways a warmer feel.

They made their way down the two flights of stairs, heading towards the lounge. Just as Natsuo said, there was a cafe in the corner of the room. A large stone fireplace was lit directly across from it, comfortable looking couches and tables all set up nearby. There was a large window which looked out onto the bottom of the mountain.

On one of the couches, a girl with short purple hair and headphones slung around her neck seemed to be... hiding? Shouto decided to leave that one alone.

"You wanna grab something to drink?" Natsuo smirked. "I bet we can charge it to our room!" he hummed, looking as if he just discovered the perfect prank.

"I wouldn't mind some tea," Shouto shrugged.

The closer they got to the cafe, he realized there was a young girl with a large amount of black hair standing in the middle. When she turned around, she jumped and Shouto held his breath, almost stumbling.

It was the girl from the parking lot.

She looked ever cuter now, comfortable in her long, muted red, turtleneck sweater dress. Her legs were covered by dark leggings and her boots were black, rimmed with fur. Her cheeks were a little flushed and her eyes darted about as if she was purposefully trying not to meet his own.

Did she recognize him too?

"Excuse us!" Natsuo said, speaking to her without a care in the world. He brushed past the girl, but Shouto couldn't help but stop. He tried not to bite his lip and the last thing he wanted to do was say something stupid.

What were the odds he would see her again anyway?

"Ah..." Shouto began and immediately her dark eyes met his. She really was stunning; her skin was smooth and pale, her eyes dark and beautiful, and her bangs swooped across her forehead.

So far, Shouto was making an amazing impression. He needed to say something else, anything else.

"I saw you in the parking lot."

"O-Oh!" she gasped, pulling the drink towards her... rather sizable chest that Shouto was purposefully choosing not to look at. "I saw you too!" she said. "I-I wasn't sure if it was... you..." She trailed off awkwardly.

Just when Shouto thought she couldn't get any cuter...

"It... was," Shouto said.

"Oi! Lil' bro! What you want? Green tea?"

Shouto turned to Natsuo and nodded.

"Green tea is a good choice! Very relaxing!" The girl said, a smile pulling across her lips. Her finger ran around the lid of her cup. "I hope... you enjoy your stay here."

"Do you work here?" Shouto asked, a knee-jerk response, and honestly the second the words came out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

"E-Eh?! N-No!" she waved her hand quickly. "Sorry if it was unclear. My family vacations here every year during winter break! I've never seen you before so... I... I hope you enjoy your time here. It's... probably one of my favorite places in the world!"

He swallowed, embarrassed he even asked her the question. Based on how she dressed and seeing her with her parents earlier, it didn't makes sense she would work here, and yet he still asked the dumb question...

"I see..." he muttered. "What kind of drink did you get?"

"Oh! Chamomile tea," she said. "It's soothing."

"Here you go, Shouto!" Natsuo interrupted their conversation (if you could even call it that) by handing him his drink.

"Thanks."

"Who's your friend?"

"Ah... uhm..."

"I'm Yaoyorozu Momo!" she said, bowing her head. "It's nice to meet you!"

"Todoroki Natsuo!" he said. "And obviously you've met my lil' bro Shouto. We're about to endure a family dinner!"

Yaoyorozu turned back to Shouto and smiled. "I hope you have fun then."

"I hope you enjoy your tea," Shouto said quickly in response.

"Of course! You too, Todoroki," she nodded. "Perhaps... I will see you again?"

"Maybe... you will," he replied. "Goodbye, Yaoyorozu."

He made his way back through the lounge and the girl with headphones was blatantly staring as he walked. Shouto turned away, following his brother who couldn't stop grinning at him.

"She was cute! You seemed a little smitten!"

"I wasn't," Shouto said flatly. He couldn't show weakness in front of Natsuo or he was bound to exploit it.

"I dunno lil' bro! She seemed interested! Maybe you'll see her again!" he whispered.

As they began to walk up the stairs, Shouto glanced back at the cafe. She was gone, disappointment churning in his stomach that he didn't get to see her one last time. Shouto couldn't help but secretly hope they would bump into one another again.

#todomomo #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #BNHA #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #side kamijirou #ski lodge au #winter fic #no quirks

[daihell]

No One Else to Blame Chapter 9

Dorian wasn’t sure how or even when he had fallen so completely for the Inquisitor. He knew it was incredibly foolish, particularly with the war raging around them, but none of that seemed to matter when he studied Elden’s profile or contemplated the warmth of their fingers laced together. Dorian knew this couldn’t last but he never could have foreseen just how spectacularly it would all go wrong. Or that he would be the one left holding the knife. AO3 Start from the beginning

-

Camp was set, but no one was really interested in resting. They had their lead, they knew where they needed to search, but making sure Elden was safe and as comfortable as possible in the meantime took priority. Inside the tent, Dorian used his magic to warm the air, pulling up extra blankets and tucking Elden in. He looked so incredibly frail now, Dorian’s chest ached as he watched him, unwilling to leave just yet. When Elden’s eyes finally fluttered open, he sighed in relief, moving closer just to be closer to him.

“How do you feel?” Dorian asked. Elden winced in pain as he tried to move and Dorian hurriedly put a hand on his chest to still him. “Don’t try to move.”

“I’m sorry,” Elden said, looking so tired and earnest as he looked over at him, as if pleading him to understand but too tired to say everything on his mind.

“Shh, amatus,” Dorian said, leaning forward to brush the hair from Elden’s forehead, alarmed by how fever-hot he was. “Just rest.”

“I just— I don’t want to leave you alone,” Elden said, voice faint as he slipped into sleep once again.

Dorian’s heart twisted painfully as he leaned forward,burying his face against Elden, hand caressing his cheek. It wasn’t fair, none of it was. Elden was in so much pain, but still, after everything, he was still more worried about him, wanting to be with him, comfort him, when it should have been the other way around. Was this really happening? Was this really all he could do for Elden? He’d brought nothing but pain everywhere he went, was this really how Dorian would repay him? Thank him for everything he’d done for him? Was this really how it would end?

Dorian’s life had shone the moment they’d met; hope and affection, more than he’d ever thought possible, suddenly filling every moment all because of Elden. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t let it end this way. Elden deserved so much better than the hand fate had dealt him, he’d remained kind and soft throughout despite a lifetime full of pain. Suddenly Dorian was nothing but fury. He would make sure it wouldn’t end here. It couldn’t.

He wanted to stay, but the best thing he could do for Elden now was to find the Venatori. He needed to get back out there and keep searching. Every moment he wasn’t was another that could be damning Elden. He placed a kiss to Elden’s forehead, lingering for a long moment, his eyes burning with tears, but there was no time for that.

He squeezed Elden’s hand before reluctantly pulling away. As Elden slipped out of his grasp, he tried to remember every detail of his hands, the way he’d felt in his own, location of every callus, everything. He didn’t look back as he left the tent, shivering with the cold of the mountain air. Looking back would only make this harder. It felt worse than it ever had as he walked away, terrified that would be the last time he’d ever see him alive.

-

Dorian scrambled up the side of a mountain, glancing over his shoulder constantly, trying to find the exact angle in those three mountains in the distance. It was more difficult than one would have thought, but there was so much ground to cover and the heavy snow made it slow going. Cassandra and the Iron Bull were around here somewhere, but they’d separated to cover more ground

Dorian was so focused on the mountains, so desperate to find the location as soon as possible, that he wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings so as he came around a bend in the mountain path and came face to face with a Venatori scout. They both seemed equally surprised, nearly colliding as they both slid to a stop.

The scout recovered first and even as she swept Dorian’s legs out from under him, sending him sprawling he couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. If she was here, the other Venatori had to be nearby, they were so close! Of course, he needed to avoid getting killed here first if he was going to do anything with that knowledge.

From the ground, he saw her throw a dagger somewhere above him which confused him until a heavy pile of snow landed on top of him, smothering him and freezing him to the bone. He could barely move, panic overwhelming him at the sensation, only made worse by the knowledge that as he struggled the scout was getting away. She was going to warm the others that they were coming and perhaps they would destroy all hope that they might be able to save Elden!

With a surge of magic, he burst his way free, melting the snow in the process as he jumped to his feet. He was disoriented and it took a long moment for him to spot the scout, now too far for him to catch up.

“Bull! Cassandra!” he yelled, hoping the others might be nearby. He fired off a bolt of lightning, but it missed as she ran out of range.

“Dorian?” Cassandra called out, but she was too far behind him he realized with a horrible sinking feeling.

With a curse, he sprinted after the scout. He had to catch up in time, he couldn’t let this happen!

The Iron Bull leapt out as if from nowhere higher up the mountain, ax raised as he landed, with a flurry of snow, directly on top of the scout. Dorian skidded to a halt, profound relief causing him to suddenly feel weak as he leaned over, trying to catch his breath. He nodded his thanks to Bull as he approached. It would have been nice to have been able to question her, but they were a bit limited in their options at the moment.

“Thanks for that,” Dorian said as Iron Bull approached.

“I guess we know where they are,” Bull said, nodding in the direction the scout had attempted to flee. “This is it, it’s time to finish this.”

“You should go get the others, Dorian.” Cassandra said. “We’ll keep an eye out, scout the area and make sure no one else discover our presence.

Dorian nodded, suddenly feeling shaky. Soon they’d have their answers and Elden would either be saved, or they would have to watch him waste away and die. Dorian didn’t waste any time. He ran all the way back, fueled entirely by adrenaline and trying to ignore the way each gasp of the frozen air burned his lungs. Blackwall was standing guard when he returned and he apparently read his expression.

“You found it?” he asked, hope evident in his voice.

“Yes,” Dorian said, trying to recover his breath and compose himself. “Time to get going.”

He continued past and entered the tent where Vivienne was sitting beside Elden. Any words Dorian might have said in response died in his throat when he saw Elden. He still looked so exhausted and worn out but at least he was awake and seemed more aware than before. He smiled as Dorian dropped down beside him, brushing his fingers across Elden’s cheek, disturbed to feel how cold he was; a terrible contrast to how fever hot he had been before.

“It’s time,” Dorian said once he’d regained himself. “Let’s get you up.”

It was slow going, Elden having difficulty walking. Dorian stayed close to his side the entire time, arm around him, and every time Elden faltered he was there for support. Elden’s face was determinedly blank, not wanting the others to see the pain he was no doubt in or how difficult simply moving was. Dorian was relieved when they found the others so Elden could at least stop and rest for the moment while they planned.

Cassandra and the Iron Bull had taken cover at the bottom of a slope. Carefully, Dorian and Blackwall climbed to the top, being sure to stay low. From their vantage point, they could see an outcropping not far below with several Venatori, no doubt keeping watch, and behind them was the cave.

“We need a plan,” Cassandra was saying behind him. “We don’t have time for a frontal assault.”

Something was gnawing at Dorian as he slid back down to join the others. The area looked vaguely familiar, until the memory hit him like a punch in the gut. He recalled being dragged along here, but they went a different way.

“There’s a back way in,” Dorian said, voice more grim than intended.

Elden must have noticed his pained expression at the memory because he took his hand, obviously concerned, and Dorian held it tightly as he turned to the others, taking too much comfort from the simple contact.

“There’s a trail up ahead. Easy to miss but we can use it to circle around, take them by surprise.”

“Right,” Blackwall said. “We’ll attack from the front, distract them while you get in there and find something to cure the Inquisitor.”

Dorian couldn’t help but think it a little odd that he be the one appointed with the most important task. Did it mean they were beginning to trust him again? Or was this a test as well?

“The Inquisitor and I best accompany you,” Vivienne said, moving to Elden’s side.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Cassandra asked, eyeing Elden. “Perhaps he should stay out of sight--”

“I’m fine,” Elden interrupted, doing his best to stand a little straighter. “I don’t want to get in the way, but I can’t just stay behind.”

“It’s best if he’s close at hand,” Vivienne interjected.

“It’s settled then,” Bull said, drawing his ax. “Let’s bash in some heads.”

-

This was it. The atmosphere was tense as they all said their goodbyes, Elden wishing the other group good luck, obviously apprehensive, hating that this was all happening because of him. Dorian wanted to correct him, none of this was his fault, it was Dorian’s, but of course he wouldn’t listen. What if someone died for this? Somehow Dorian hadn’t considered that. All the more reason to find what they were looking for as quickly as possible, he supposed. Then Dorian could join the frey and help fight.

It wasn’t long after they parted ways that the sounds of battle filled the air as he, Vivienne, and Elden made their way to the hidden entrance. Dorian was torn between wanting to rush ahead and search or to stick close and help Elden who was doing an admirable job keeping up despite his exhaustion. With a nod from Vivienne, however, his decision was made for him. Vivienne would do a much better job assisting Elden, so with an apologetic glance towards Elden, Dorian sprinted ahead.

As he entered the cave, he gripped his staff tightly, expecting Venatori to jump out at him from every shadow, but there was no one here. No doubt they were all currently occupied by the distraction the others were providing. When the center of the room came into view, however, he decided he would have much prefered the ambush

On the ground was a large magic circle drawn in blood, dry and flaking, and from the wall dangled chains that were much too familiar. Dorian shuddered at the sight, staggering and falling to one knee as pain spiked through his skull and he had to bite down hard on his gloved hand to stop from crying out. He could feel a crowd of memories rushing in, nearly overwhelming him, and he tried desperately to focus on here and now. He needed to save Elden, he couldn’t do this now!

Breathing heavily, gripping his staff for support, he stood and took a determined step forward. The sound of boots scraping on stone caused him to spin around, however, and he was just in time to see Elden fall. Vivienne caught him and lowered him to the ground and Dorian took an involuntary step towards them, wanting nothing more than to rush to their side as terror gripped him.

Was this it? Were they out of time? He couldn’t leave Elden, not like this. He took another step, but Vivienne raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks and he knew she was right. He could go back, stand uselessly by and watch Elden die, or he could find the cure and possibly save him. He had to try. Wrenching his eyes away, he turned and ran farther in.

The cave curved to the left and in the distance Dorian could hear the sounds of battle. Dorian desperately wanted to continue on and join the fray, to fight and tear into everyone responsible for all of this, but he hesitated. Elden was his priority. Instead, he took a right where an adjoining cave opened up into a wide room. It appeared to be in use as a sleeping area, personal belongings and bags scattered about. Dorian picked one section that appeared to belong to Venatori of a higher station and began tearing through, even checking pockets of whatever garments he dug up.

He was so frantic, when he pulled up a small bag that clinked in that particular way glass bottles did, he nearly dropped it again. Setting it down, he opened it carefully and, hands shaking, began sifting through various potions, from healing to lyrium among others, until he finally found it. A half-empty bottle of poison.

He carefully wrapped his fingers around the bottle. It was such a simple thing, the vial small enough to fit into his palm. And yet so devastating. Dorian shuddered, thinking about the dark liquid running through Elden’s veins, causing him so much agony, slowly killing him. He just hoped Elden wasn’t already too far gone. He slipped the vial into a pocket, knowing he needed to get it to Vivienne as soon as possible, and sprinted back out of the room to where he’d left them.

He was in such a hurry when Elden and Vivienne came into view that he almost didn’t see it. Movement at the entrance of the cave caught his attention and he skidded to a halt. A man was standing there, wearing the robes of a Venatori mage, and he was raising his hand in Vivienne and Elden’s direction, readying a spell.

“No!” Dorian cried out reflexively, knowing there was nothing he could do, no way he could get to them in time.

Vivienne acted with impressive speed at his warning, pulling a barrier up around herself and Elden as a wave of fire crashed around them. As the spell fell away, Dorian was relieved to see that the barrier held, but the Venatori turned in his direction, drawn by his shout. At the sight of him, a cruel grin spread across the Venatori’s lips and it sent a chill down Dorian’s spine as he took an involuntary step back. He recognized this man. He didn’t think he would ever be able to forget his face.

Dorian thought he might be sick as he was overwhelmed with more memories; of blood dripping into his eyes and agony as they cut into him again and again, and this relentless taunting voice that he tried so desperately to resist as it told him over and over again to kill Elden, to wait until they were alone and drive a blade into him.

That voice drowned out every part of his mind until there was nothing else and Dorian knew without a doubt that this man had complete control over him. He could order Dorian to do anything and he would have to do it. He could be forced to turn on Elden all over again, finish him off for good this time before attacking the others, and Dorian would be helpless to stop it. He felt truly terrified, cold down to his very core and he lashed out reflexively, frantically bringing his staff up to cast something, anything, but it was already too late.

“Stop.”

With that one word, one simple command, Dorian was brought to a halt. All that magic he’d summoned up simply dissipated and vanished. His arms shook with strain as he tried to move, just a fraction, but he just couldn’t. There was no winning against this, there was nothing he could do and that terrible grin widened as the Venatori watched the panic in his eyes.

“I must say, I am impressed you made it this far,” the Venatori said.

While his attention was elsewhere, Vivienne took advantage and fired off several sharp blades of ice but the Venatori easily raised his own barrier to deflect. There was a flurry of spells and explosions as Vivienne and the Venatori bombarded each other and, above the din, he heard it.

“Kill them!” the Venatori yelled and Dorian felt the last of his hope fade away.

Next -->

#dorian pavus #dorian x inquisitor #pavelyan #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor #elden trevelyan #fanfic #cal writes stuff #no one else to blame

[theshipsfirstmate]

Arrow Fic: You Always Knew the Melody, But You’d Never Heard it Rhyme

post-6x23. Felicity comes to terms with being a newly single parent.

“The diamond on her left hand catches the sunlight, and it reminds her how the right things can become beautiful under pressure.”

A/N: Hi guys! So I’m writing a post-s6 fic without having watched s6 and it’s pretty much @effie214’s fault. Forgive me if there’s anything grievously wrong (again, no idea what happened other than gifsets I saw) but all credit to her if you like it.

This was also inspired by the first Hiatus Fic-a-Thon prompt: “Revelation,” (thanks to @thebookjumper for that!) because I saw it and couldn't stop thinking about Felicity realizing that Oliver had turned her into her mother. And because I'm me, that became a few thousand words of angst. It's great to be back.

Title from “The Mother” by Brandi Carlile.

You Always Knew the Melody, But You’d Never Heard it Rhyme (AO3)

The rest of the day passes in a dull, aching blur.

Save for a few important moments that remain crystal clear in her memory, from the second Felicity loses sight of the armored federal van that’s taking Oliver away, it’s like she’s moving on autopilot. Digg says something that sounds reassuring -- even though she can't really make out his words -- and a uniformed man presses a packet of papers into her hands with an uneasy half-smile. When she looks down, it takes a few blinks before she can make out the forms, stamped with booking numbers and information on picking up personal effects

William stands at her side in the aftermath, stock still and quiet like always, and it takes her maybe too long to realize that he’s waiting on her.

She needs to get him fed. She needs to get him home. She needs to keep him safe. The routine isn’t that far out of the ordinary, but she’s hyper-aware that it’s just the two of them now. This could be their new normal, something that lasts for weeks or months or years, she realizes, and her heart breaks all over again for the boy beside her -- who lost the mother he's had all his life and the father he just got to know, one after the other. Now all he has is her.

Amid the storm inside, the revelation hits Felicity like a bolt of summer lightning, cracking wide and bright across the black, and illuminating something she's not sure she's ready to see.

She's a mother now. She had been before, in a sense, had warily made her peace with the “fun stepmom” role and found herself enjoying it more than she ever thought she could. She adores spending time with William, loves the family she and Oliver have made with a heart-rending ferocity and cherished every moment, despite how it all came together.

But this is something else entirely.

Now, she’s essentially a single parent, and there are so many terrifying added levels stacking up on that reality. She's someone else's whole world, and it doesn't matter that she didn't plan this, didn't even have time to strategize the adjustment. It doesn't matter that she never dreamt of this life as a girl -- or since -- never played “Mommy” to a doll with wide, unmoving eyes and floral-scented hair. None of that matters now. William is what matters.

Felicity thinks of her own mother, and then she thinks of strawberry ice cream.

She remembers knowing immediately that something was off that day, when her mother offered her ice cream right after school. It was the good stuff, too -- Häagen-Dazs, not the syrupy block of ice from the drug store case. Donna had plied her with a giant bowl of strawberry, her favorite, when she decided to break the news, and it took Felicity years to realize that it was probably to slow the inevitable deluge of questions about why her father had left, and when he was coming back. It was a way for Donna to keep her daughter from realizing how few answers she had to offer.

To this day, strawberry ice cream still makes her a little nauseous. Mint chocolate chip, on the other hand, has never reminded her of watching her mother’s mascara smudge off onto a pile of crumpled Kleenex.

She finds herself oddly comforted when she’s ordering takeout for them later and remembers there's a pint in the freezer -- but the feeling is quickly sunk by the memory of how Oliver had kissed her sweetly when she pulled it out of the grocery bag last week, shrugging his shoulders as she half-heartedly scolded him about sticking to the list.

“I want you to have everything you need,” he had whispered against her lips, “and everything you want.”

The food comes to the door eventually, and Felicity hopes William doesn’t see the way she jumps when the delivery woman knocks. It’s from one of their favorite places, but she barely tastes a thing as the two of them drift into half-consciousness in front of a Netflix show that pauses every few episodes to make them come to terms with their own humanity, in the form of an on-screen prompt that reads more and more condescending every time it asks if they’re still watching.

She gets up for more wine at one point, and realizes she should clear the dishes. That’s something a mother would do. It’s a battle against her ugliest instincts, a war against the way her broken heart is begging her to wallow in Oliver's absence, to sink into the couch and never stand up, to run as fast as she can away from the black hole of hurt that’s threatening to consume everything she loves about this life. But she doesn’t have that option anymore.

“We’ll get him back,” she offers, voice only cracking a little, when she realizes William’s watching her instead of the screen. They've had some version of this conversation before, but she doesn't know how else to reassure him. “I’m not sure how, yet. But he always comes back.”

The boy doesn’t offer a response at first, just leans forward on the sofa to silently help her stack up the plastic and foam containers and shakes his head in response when she asks if he wants any dessert. When she returns from the kitchen, though, he has a question that pulls the rug from under her.

“Is this the worst it’s ever been?”

“No.” Felicity answers on pure, base instinct, as her forehead burns with a flashback to a kiss that came with a declaration and her fingers twitch at the sense memory of the mottled patch of scar tissue just under Oliver’s rib cage. But then she considers. “Maybe.”

Looking into his son’s worried eyes, she knows that there are things more tragic than death. Especially for Oliver. “This will probably be the worst time for him.”

“Because of me.” Felicity forgets sometimes, because he’s so quiet, just how insightful William can be. She makes herself promise, in that moment, never to hurt him with an obvious lie.

Instead she just gives him a watery nod. “Because of how much he loves you.”

“And you too.”

“Yeah, and me too.” This time around, at least she’s sure of that much.

She thinks back to the moments that William is asking about without knowing -- all the times Oliver has died, or come within a breath, all the times he’s run, every tiny tragedy that forced him to sell his soul or sacrifice his humanity. They were selfless actions, ultimately, but that hadn't stopped the pieces of Felicity's heart from chipping away every time. Each hurt is a little different, she’s learned, warped in a way that makes it impossible to fully anticipate.

“Your dad has always been someone who would do anything for his family,” she finds herself repeating softly, flashing back again to the old bunker and the weathered longing of the girl she had been then. “I just wish you two had more time, before....”

Her voice is so close to cracking, and she doesn't want William to hear it, so she leaves the end of the sentence where it lies and reaches behind her on the couch for a blanket. But she freezes with the folded fleece in her hand when he speaks again.

“If you believe the team can get him back, then so do I.” They can still have that time, he's trying to tell her. There's still a future where Oliver gets the chance to be the father he was trying so hard to become, where he gets the family he's been longing for. They just have to find their way there.

It's a cautious but optimistic kind of faith that William has, endearing and trusting, and Felicity wonders where it comes from. Maybe it’s his mother’s, maybe it’s an echo of the pre-Gambit Oliver she never had a chance to know. That he’s willing to place that faith in her, however, she knows where that comes from just as surely as the blue in his eyes.

“I do believe it,” she tells him, tasting the words in her mouth and realizing that's they're true. “And I believe in your dad.”

“Me too.” He lays back across his end of the couch then, and pulls his legs up parallel to hers, sharing the blanket when she offers it. A few episodes later, his eyes are closed and the light, steady sound of his breathing echoes around her when the Netflix screen goes to black again.

Felicity stands after a long moment, and takes in the sight of Oliver’s son, sleeping on the couch, as a pang of domestic nostalgia plunges through her chest. He’s surely exhausted, but he looks peaceful in a way she knows is impossible, and her eyes offer up a fresh round of tears when she realizes that, if Oliver were here, he could carry him to bed. Without his strength, her options are limited to either leaving William to sleep on the couch or waking him and having to watch the day’s events wash over him again. There's not really a choice to make.

She tucks the blanket up a little higher, pressing a kiss to his forehead and switching off the TV and the nearby lights before climbing the stairs to her own room, where another heartbreak awaits.

Felicity slept alone for years before Oliver, but since they've been together, something inside her has shifted. The prospect of getting into a bed that doesn’t have him in it feels crushingly, hopelessly lonely in a way it never used to. But she's bone-tired too, so she washes her face and changes into one of his old hoodies, wrapping herself in the scent of his soap and favorite fabric softener, before curling around his pillow and crying herself into a fitful slumber.

It doesn’t last long. She drifts in and out for a while before she accepts that she's just too anxious to get any real rest. Instead, she lays there and thinks about what lies ahead. She wonders how long Oliver will be gone this time, how much he'll miss. She worries about his safety and agonizes over the likelihood that the person who will hurt him the most while he's locked up is already in that one-man cell with him. She considers how grateful she is that Thea wasn't here to watch her brother get dragged away again, even though Felicity selfishly longs for the support. And she thinks about the boy downstairs, who is now looking to her as his only parent.

Before she realizes it, she’s spent a few hours working herself into something of a frenzy. But even then, she has to wait a little longer until it's a semi-reasonable hour to make a phone call.

There's at least a half dozen well-thought-out questions on the tip of her tongue as she dials the number, but the second Felicity hears her mother’s voice, there’s only one thing she can think to ask.

“How did you do it?”

She sounds like a stranger to her own ears, but thankfully, Donna is with her immediately. “Felicity? What’s wrong?”

The tears start to fall immediately. Maybe they never stopped.

“How did you do it, mom? When dad left, how did you…” The words catch in her throat on an emotional trip wire that leaves her sputtering.

“Hon, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“Oliver’s… Oliver has to go away for a while. You might see something on the news.” Her mother’s not one to spend much time on the internet, but Felicity cringes at the thought of Donna flipping channels and coming across Oliver’s perp walk.

“Oh baby,” her mother croons mournfully, “I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Felicity feels a panicked stutter in her chest, and tries to will her heart rate down with deep, shuddering breaths. “I just… I’m so worried. For him, and for William.”

All her calming techniques are for naught, though, because there are tears in Donna’s voice now, and it's a contagious kind of thing. “That poor, sweet boy. How is he taking it?”

“He's as good as can be expected, I guess. But mom, I can't… I don't know how to do this by myself. Parenting, and everything. I’ve never done it without Oliver.”

“Well, you love him, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” she answers dumbly. “He's my husband.” It's as simple as that, or at least it should be. She’s loved Oliver since before she even knew what it was, and she plans to love him forever; she should be able to do this for him without a second thought.

But her mother interrupts her train of guilty, weighted thought before she can take it over the cliff. “Not Oliver, hon. William.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yes, of course.” It's the truth, and Felicity knows it, even if the veracity of it surprises her a little. Just a year ago, she had been shell-shocked at the boy's mere existence, and now he has his very own compartment in her heart. “Of course I do.”

“Then that's where you start,” Donna tells her, matter of fact. “Kids need a lot. But that's what they need the most.”

She wonders if her mother's always been this wise, or if this is just something that kicks in when your kid needs you. She wonders if that's something she'll find out on her own.

“I don't want to ruin his life. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to be his mom.”

“Oh, baby, you won't ruin his life.” Donna sounds so certain, still, and it might be silly but it helps. “You do your best for that boy and he'll be better for it. I'm sure of that. Hard times can make good people strong. Remember what Bubbe used to say about diamonds?”

Felicity makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, though she's fairly certain the metaphor was not unique to her grandmother.

“I hate that's it's true, but you're a shining example of that, my darling girl,” her mother says, with a different kind of ache in her voice. “And, for that matter, so is Oliver. I'd say William's got a pretty good shot.”

The words temper things a bit, but the mention of her own formative fatherless years stokes another kind of worry.

“Mom, you might start hearing some things about Oliver as all of this plays out. I want you to know, he…”

“Honey, I know everything I need to know,” Donna interrupts, waving her off with a casual tone. “That husband of yours is a good man with a good heart, and I knew it the first time I met him -- just like I know that it would take death or the devil himself to drag him away from you.”

If only her mother knew how many times they've actually contended with those threats exactly, Felicity thinks. Still, something in Donna's assessment soothes the feral bit of panic that's made itself a home in her gut until it feels almost manageable. “Thanks, mom.”

“As for William,” her mother adds, “you don’t have to love him like he’s yours, you know. You just have to love him.”

They say their goodbyes with a promise to talk soon, and Felicity pulls herself out of bed to make her way downstairs and start the first day of whatever this is going to be. William’s already up, standing on his tiptoes at the counter, dunking slices of bread into a large mixing bowl.

She stands for a moment on the stairs, watching him, and then suddenly, she's transported back to the tiny kitchen at her mother’s apartment in Vegas. She sees herself, boiling water for Kraft macaroni and cheese, tiny glasses fogging up because she's just barely taller than the saucepan on the stovetop. To this day, there's still a silvery patch of skin on the back of her wrist, from the handful of times she had overshot the colander with the steaming pot of boiling pasta.

But that won't happen to William. That kind of latchkey loneliness won't ever be his life. She will not fall to pieces in his father's absence and, mercifully, they have the resources to ensure that he won't have to fend for himself until he's good and ready.

Felicity gives her head a definitive shake, banishing the memory to the recesses of her mind, and continues down the stairs.

“Morning,” William says, with only a half glance up. She wonders if he knew she was standing there, watching.

“Morning,” she answers, then clears her throat, because that's a stranger's voice.  “French Toast?”

“Dad showed me how the other week.” He looks down at the open notepad again -- Oliver’s makeship recipe book, Felicity realizes -- and scrunches his nose up as he reads the longhand scribbles on the page.

That's another mannerism that must come from Samantha, Felicity thinks. She wishes there were a way to save these things for him to recall later -- when the wounds aren't so fresh. She hopes he'll be able to see his mother in himself as he gets older, to savor the memories of a woman she never got a chance to know.

“Is...is that okay?” 

Felicity looks up and sees William with an egg-soaked slice of bread in hand and a concerned look on his face, worried that her sudden silence is disapproval.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” she sputters, taking a seat. “Yeah, it smells great. Thanks.”

She does love him, Felicity thinks a few moments later, as he deftly switches off the burner and brings the plates to the kitchen island, sitting to her right on the stool she already thinks of as his. Fiercely, too. She’s not sure, exactly when it happened, or how. But she loves William for the boy he is, separately from her love for his father. And she believes her mother when she says that’s the most important thing.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but she can practically feel William working himself up to ask her a question. When he does, it's not at all what she expected.

“Will you tell me the story of the computer?”

Felicity glances at him with a confused frown. “The computer with the bullets in it, the first time you met my dad. You said you’d tell me the story someday.”

“Oh! Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” she laughs, a little bit in relief, dragging the last bite of her breakfast through the syrup pooled on the plate. “Well, there’s not much more to it than that. You know the Palmer Tech building? That used to be Queen Consolidated, Oliver’s family’s company.”

Felicity expects a reaction of some kind, but William just nods. This is either old news or an uninteresting detail in the tale he really wants to hear.

“I worked there, in the IT department, and one day, my boss’s boss’s son came to me with a laptop that was clearly riddled with bullet holes and a bogus story about how it wasn't working because he spilled coffee on it.”

“And you helped him?” William asks with a grin. “Why?”

“Curiosity, at first. I knew he was hiding something and I wanted to know what it was.”

“And that’s when you fell in love with him?”

She laughs at the incredulous tone of his voice. “Yes. Well, maybe.” William screws up his face again at the indistinct. Felicity remembers what it used to be like, to hear people talk about love before you knew exactly how it felt to have that kind of longing loop its way through your insides and pull.

“I think I probably did love him then, but I don’t think I knew it until I joined the team,” she admits wistfully. “I always felt like I was meant to be doing something… bigger, you know? I just didn’t know what. And I didn’t know how to get there.”

She thinks of the people she used to be: the lost little girl, the straight-edge know-it-all mathlete, the reckless daredevil hacktivist. She thinks of the bits of them that are still left in her, that shape the woman she is today.

“When I met your dad -- really met him, hood and arrows and raccoon eyes and all -- it was like... so many of the pieces of my life started to come together,” she tells William. “I started to see where everything fit.”

“How did you find out who he was?” She knows the boy is asking for the specifics of his father’s life as a vigilante, but it hits her like a heavier question. Maybe they’re one in the same.

“He was hurt, and he came to me.” She spares him the imagery of Moira’s gun and Oliver flatlining in the dingy old lair. “He had to take off his mask, so that I’d trust him.”

“And you did?”

“Yeah, I did. Still do. Always have.”

“But you also said he lied,” William remembers with a small frown. “That he kept secrets.”

“Yeah, he has.” Felicity nods solemnly. “And it hurts, but it’s complicated, because when he does those things, he’s usually doing it for a virtuous reason, to save someone else.”

“Just like yesterday.” Again, the boy's capacity to piece together the fragmented details of their jagged lives takes her by surprise.

“Exactly like yesterday,” she agrees. “I'm mad as hell at him for making that call on his own. And I'm furious that there wasn't a better way out. But he did it for us. And I can't hate him for that. If anything, some part of me loves him even more for it.”

William just nods again. “Me too.” But that soft reassurance seems to be the end of it, for now, as he stands to clear the dishes, insisting on washing up himself, despite her half-hearted offer to help.

Felicity knows there's probably some other conversation they should be having now, about family and responsibilities and who's taking care of who, but she's emotionally drained already, and that was only breakfast. So she puts that talk away in her mind for a while, retreating to her office instead and rooting through the desk drawers until she finds the keys to the storage locker garage with the shiny luxury fob attached.

It's worth it, because William cracks his first real smile in days when she asks if he's ever been to Vegas.

They pack a few days of clothes into small bags that will fit in the Porsche, and Felicity hazards a call to Digg, cursing her eyes for welling up at the sound of his voice, a familiar touchstone in a world that feels upside-down right now.

He doesn't like her plan. She hadn't expected him to. “Diaz is going to be coming for revenge, Felicity. Soon.” But she thinks he knows better than to try and talk her out of it right now.

“That seems like an okay time to get the heck out of town, to me.”

He can’t argue much with that, and after a lengthy rundown of the security precautions she’s already planned -- plus a few suggestions on Digg’s end that sound suspiciously ARGUS-influenced -- he sounds slightly more satisfied.

“Call me. Frequently,” he insists.

“You too,” she answers, eyes flooding again. “And if anything happens…”

“We got it, Felicity.” It's good that he says so, and quickly, because she can't even begin to consider the tragedies that could live in that ellipses. “You two take care of each other.”

“We will.” She grins just a little in spite of herself. “Hugs to Lyla and the Digglet. We’ll see you soon.”

The sun's just barely up as they head out of town, but William asks if they can put the top down anyway. It's a lucky thing, because the wind whips Felicity’s glassy eyes dry when they hit the stretch of highway where Oliver once turned to her and said "I'm happy," like he couldn't quite believe it himself.

The diamond on her left hand catches the rising sunlight, and it reminds her how the right things can become beautiful under pressure. She's done this before, built a home without bricks or mortar and held onto happiness with nothing more than her own two hands. She can do it again, she’s certain of it.

She reaches over to the passenger’s seat to ruffle William's hair and he gives her a cautious smile that looks so much like his father's it cuts right through her.

They had made it then, the two of them. They survived so much for their moment in the sun, and Felicity knows in her heart that those are only the first few chapters of their story. She can do it again, for Oliver, and for his son. She’s someone who can do anything for her family.

A/N: Sight of the Son, amirite? (That's a joke for the OG readers, but sure, newbies, if you're down for a Porsche-load of post-s3 feelings, go ahead and check it out.) I'll see myself out.

A/N 2: I cannot believe myself, but I actually have some bits written for a second part of this if anyone's interested.

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