#my right-wing uncle made a comment months ago

[coldgoldlazarus]

I'm sure I'm not remotely the first person to say this, but it finally clicked for me so I needed to say it again, in my own words.

Christian ideology that people are fundamentally evil (and must therefore be saved retroactively by Jesus), ultimately boils down to a fundamental "guilty until proven otherwise" viewpoint, that makes it so easy to dehumanize other people and justify whatever they see fit. Because if everyone else is ontologically evil for not believing in Christ, then anything you would do to them is morally right. Conversion against their will is the mercy option, but if that fails, then anything goes.

#not a reblog #christofascism #my right-wing uncle made a comment months ago #over thanksgiving visit #about how a utopian egalitarian society #and economic structure #isn't possible on the grounds that #according to him anyway #people are fundamentally greedy and cruel #and that felt like an important window into understanding #why the fuck he is the way he is #(aside from the toxic insecurity and warped view of masculinity) #(but that's nothing new) #and now three months later #I think I've figured it out

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt. III)

Hello lovelys! Incase no one told you today, I think your spectacular!

Also, lets be real. This part really shows how much I love Buff Techno

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, blood

   You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The Emperor was asking you to sit and eat with him. With his family. You didn't want to come off rude or impolite, so you simply nodded and walked over to the remaining open seat. Phil pulled the chair out for you a bit, you lowered yourself onto it and pushed yourself in.

   To say the room was beautiful was a understatement. The table was made of elegant dark oak, the edges lined with detailed gold. The chairs matched the table with wood. But the seats had a plush Black velvet cover over the cushions. The backs of the chairs stood taller than you, Techno's chair was the most detailed and the tallest out of them all. When you glanced up at Techno you were only met with the skull staring forward.

   You honestly became nervous now. Your hands grew clammy as you held a bit of your cloak. Yesterday you had no problem being in front of this family and now you were terrified of offending them. The Family was known for being nothing short of dangerous, and blood thirsty. Yet when you look to Philza, or Wilbur who sat in front of you. You couldn't see how, they were perceived as dangerous. Don't get yourself wrong, you saw how Techno could be seen as terrifying, the man stood at well over 6ft, maybe approaching 7ft?

   Wil watched you a bit, taking note of the complex look you had. "So where are you from?" He asked simply, taking a drink of his milk. "Dadza said you were wearing really light clothes when he met you." The boys tone was casual. Trying to set your wild nerves at ease.

   "O-oh, I'm from a little village in Madagascar" techno's mask faced you as you spoke. Showing you had his full attention. "It's pretty... small..." You tried of how to explain it but, every way you turned it in your head, it was still bland.

   "What's your village like? For the small size is it well off or strugglin'?" Phil inquired. At this a few butlers came out with platters of food. They placed a plate full of eggs, toast, sausage and oatmeal in front of Techno, Phil and you. Talk about a meal fit for a king- no pun intended. Techno only nudged his mask up a tad more. His mouth now visible more. Your eyes lingered on him. A slight scar could be seen on his lip, it looked a bit fresh if your being honest. You averted your gaze before he noticed your lingering eyes.

   "It's... struggling. We were slightly larger, but years ago there was a raid by some Pilliagers" you couldn't help your face twist into a bit of disgust. After how they humiliated your village, and father, you couldn't help hold a high distaste for them. "They ransacked what we had. The men of our village defended what they could, but too many lives were taken if you ask me." You took your fork into your hand, starting to cut up the egg.

   "Did you loose anyone close to you?" Phil spoke between bites. Only speaking when his mouth was empty. You hummed and nodded as you chewed your food. Waiting to respond out of courtesy.

   "I lost my uncle, but that luckily was all. My father was injured too, but he survived.” your eyes scanned your food, slightly pushing the food apart so it wasn't touching. “I was too young to understand when it happened, but I guess one pillager took a swing at his leg. It never healed properly since during the attack, the Pilliagers targeted the women and children mostly. Who for the most part were in charge of medicine and occasional potion brewing" You could feel Techno's lingering eyes on you. He ate in silence only listening.

   "I'm sorry to hear of your uncles demise. however, we are glad that you are ok." Phil said, resting a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. You smiled gently and nodded. the action was similar to that of what your father did. Even if Phil didn't recognize it, the little actions he did put you at ease.

   Everyone ate for a bit longer. the sounds of silverware and plates clinking were the only sound that filled the room. Techno finished his plate first. Neatly setting his dishes together. Phil and I worked at our plates still. Mostly because we were the ones talking. "What made you get into Smithing?" Phil asked. Having previously recalled you mentioning the blade was your creation.

   You took a sip of Orange juice to clear your throat of food. "When my father was injured our family suffered. Smithing was how we made money. My father couldn't stand long- he still cant. even if he could, I'm pretty sure the hammer would be too heavy for him." You paused thinking a moment. " I think I was eleven or twelve when he started showing me the tools and the trade. After a few months I could put a tool out. By no means was it good though.” You could still remember the first tool you put out. It was a twisted, warped mess. At the time you were proud, but now you rather not admit it was yours. “By the end of the year I at least could put something worth a show out. Ever since then I just continued. I didn't know how to sew or weave like my mother so I never strayed from the forge."

   "It was somthin' in your blood" Phil commented. You tilted your head slightly as you ate a bit more. Starting to feel utterly stuffed. "A lot of trade's or artistry’s get passed down so long that it just becomes part of their heritage, they seem to have a natural born talent for those knacks." He fallowed up with. "Techno is like that with sword combat" you herd a sound of disagreement from under the boar mask.

   Wil decided to chime in now. "If your blade pasts the test, what will you do with the money?" You thought a moment. In your heart you knew you had no use for it really. Your father and village however did need it.

   "I'll probably give it to my village and my father." It was a simple and cliché answer but you meant it. "I have a roof over my head at home, parents who love me, support me. For once I wanna support them." You set your spoon down. Only having ate half your oatmeal, feeling too full to finish. "My village also needs the help. The baker. The farmer. They all could use a bit of spare change." You looked up from your plate to face Phil. His eyes were kind. They glittered like your fathers, when he was proud.

   "Your very kind to offer your riches to others." you didn't expect Techno to voice his opinion. But you graciously took his complement. Your cheeks a faint pink. As you nodded. He moved his mask back to where it fit comfortably. He stood up from the table. the action commanding attention, The mask faced you. "Fetch your blade. I wish to test it."

   Ok now the nerves really set in. You stood outside on a snow covered training ground. Your head was covered by a cozy fur lined cloak. Beside you stood Wilbur, and Philza. You had the cloth wrapped sheath in your hands firmly. The sword secure in it's place. Waiting for someone to release it and show the strength it held.

   You were unsure where techno was, he was supposed to give the test but as it stood, he was nowhere to be seen. That is until he turned the corner with a thick wooden log over his shoulder. You couldn't help how your jaw dropped. You knew he had to have some strength but you didn't expect him to turn the corner with a good size Hickory log. He dropped the log in front of Phil, Wil and I. Next to it was a rather large block of ice, and a Anvil. Once Techno situated the log securely in the snow he unchained his cloak. Handing it off to Phil.

   There he stood. This monster of a man. broad shoulders drawn back, his posture perfect. Where he looked as strong as twelve oxen, he also had a elegant, ethereal beauty. His jaw was sharp, lips drawn into a thin line. His hands, although gloved, moved with precise elegance. When he breathed a puff of cloud would push itself out of the Boar's empty nasal cavity. He looked terrifyingly beautiful.

   He turned to you and outstretched his hand. A wordless request for your blade. You bit your lip. The moment had come for you to truly test it. Carefully you unwrapped the cloth, the simple sheath was the underwhelming part of the blade. however when you moved the Sheath towards Techno he made no comment on the simplicity.

   His hand easily took the handle. Skillfully he pulled the blade out. The black blade shimmered brilliantly. The purple-blue pearlescent really popped against the snow. When he saw the color of the blade you could have sworn you saw his hand falter slightly. “tis’ a beautiful blade...” was the first comment. “what is made of?” he inquired.

   You swallowed the slight lump in your throat. “It’s Netherite and Diamond” You didn't expect them to know what Netherite was, but the look Phil gave you shown that he very well knew what it was. Even Techno turned his head to face you. This is the part where you wondered if you shouldn't have said the true material.

   “Netherite eh?...” the angle was just right, you could see into the empty eye sockets and pinpoint techno’s eyes. they lingered over your blade fondly. he seemed very familiar with that type of material.

    You watched as he took notice of how the blade was well balanced. The handle was comfortable and surprisingly it fit his hands. He tossed the blade between his right and left hand. Seeing how it felt. Mentally he assumed the blade's handle would have been made small to accommodate your own hand. But he was pleasantly surprised to see you took account that maybe you would not be the one handling it. He moved the blade back to his dominant hand. Looking to the mound of ice. You felt a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you away from Techno. You looked up to see who the hand belonged to, only realizing it was Phil. well you stood in front of Phil pressed up to him, you didn't have to look to know how much he towered over you. His wings only adding to the height. you thought it was a tad weird  that he pulled you so close, until you realized he did it to Wil was well. The action was out of protection.  your gaze shifted back to Techno. He rotated the sword in his hand once. From Phil, Wil, and your stance, all you saw was a quick movement of purple, the light bouncing of the blade beautifully as it swung. He did not delay on his swing back, it was fast and powerful. Techno simply stepped, and swung back down, hard. The idea of being on the other side of the blade seemed impossible to survive. Well he beat the sword edge against the ice, his body moved as if he was reciting a simple dance. He was testing the durability. Seeing exactly how much your blade could take. The sheer force of his hits only needed two, to break the ice chunk in half. Sliding both halves away from each other upon the swords impact. You could only watch in shock. His strength was raw and powerful. You were genuinely terrified for your little sword.

   Techno didn't let up his assault. Moving from the ice to the wood in one swift movement. Continuing to strike the hard wood. The woodchips flew in the air, you averted your eyes a bit, worried the wood might hit you. After beating a decent size gash into the wood, you spared a glance back up. He shoved the sword into the snow bank next to him. Lifting the abused log up. Placing his hands on both sides of the gash, he with little struggle, tore the log in half with his hands.

   To say that it wasn't a little bit attractive, would have been a lie. Your cheeks were pink again. but luckily you could blame it on the cold nipping at your face. You watched as techno looked at the log, now in two parts at his feet. He made no sound of disproval, or really said anything. He simply took the sword from the bank and looked over at the Anvil. ‘surely he wouldn't hit the blade on the metal’ you thought. Oh, don't worry he would. He looked down to the blade, judging it breifly before glancing the anvil. You looked away, you couldn't watch. the blade was going to break as soon as it hit the anvil. It was evident on why no one was able to past the test. The test was a fucking nightmare. 

   The only sound you could hear was a harsh ring. He did it, oh shit he really did it. Phil from above you just whistled. “tha’s a mighty blade (y/n).” you spared a glance. in Techno’s hand was your sword. structurally intact. you let out a rather large, breathy laugh of relief.

   Techno didn't congratulate you, or make a remark on your blade. instead he removed a glove and pressed his thumb to the blade. He wanted to see if it was still sharp after the pure beating it just took. You watched, now unsure if this was all positive or negative. He hummed, he wanted to say he was surprised. but he wasn't. what you didn't understand, was that he was used to Netherite. He knew it took something almost godlike to break anything with that material.

    Although the sword was beat to hell, when he pressed his thumb against the blade and applied pressure, it was still sharp enough to draw blood. He put his thumb to his lips. The hard metallic taste of blood filled his mouth from the cut he received. his lips only twisting into a bemused smirk.

    "Your blade passes" he turned to face you. Wiping his bloody thumb on his black pants before offering his hand to you in a handshake. "You are the only one that somehow designed, dare I say it. The perfect blade."

   After the event that occurred out on the field you were a giddy mess. You did it. You fallowed techno down the hall. He explained that since you did impress him, he was now wanting to open the table for a discussion and a possible contract. But first, he wanted to know how much knowledge you possess.

   He opened a large door that was detailed in gold. when you stepped in he fallowed. walking past you in a easy, lazy stride. You were in his office. the shelves were lined with books, many having titles about Mythology, histories of wars, war tactics, potion brewing, etc. The titles were endless. From the books alone you could assume he probably had knowledge on a plethora of subjects. The walls were high, the detailing never faltered however. Two Antarctica Empire flag's hung on the walls, framing the main desk. There were paintings, but unlike the one of the whole family you saw on your arrival. There was one of Phil and Techno, the mask painted on his face. The second painting was Tech and Wil. But similarly. The mask was present. Looking about a little more, there were also swords of all types on the walls. In the center of the celling there was a massive candle lit chandelier. A fireplace stood tall behind techno's desk. You only assumed the desk was placed there solely for the point of warmth.

   Technoblade took his seat at the rather large desk. His posture, was still perfect even when sitting. His hands were folded together. The rings still adorning his fingers. Everything he did, and wore just screamed elegance. "I will give you 3k for the blade. An additional 2k will be added for your trip" he said, his voice still straight.

   'Holy shit, 5k? That's far more than I thought' you were speechless. You could already imagine how the money would help. ‘Father could get the help he needed.’ ‘The farmer could build a new barn possibly’ The upgrades flowed through your mind. Hope and joy surged through your veins. "Thank you your Imperial Majesty..."

"You said you used Netherite, correct?" You nodded to him. The mask was facing you, he was quiet. But you assumed he was thinking. "Were did you find the Neitherite?" He leaned onto his desk, moving his folded hands to the desk top. Resting his head on his hands.

"A man in my village had it. It was pretty cheap to buy it off him" you thought back to the man. Trying to recall the conversation. "He uh.." you paused trying to remember it properly. "Oh- he said it was a great material when used properly. But he couldn't understand what he needed to achieve it." Techno stayed quiet a moment.

"So how did you come by the proper techniques?" He questioned. You thought back again. It was a off day when you discovered it really. You weren't trying to use it. It just fell into your pan.

"Well, I was trying to make a diamond sword for a sister village originally. But when my pan was over the fire heating, I had left the room. Not realizing the small chunk of Netherite I had on top of the mantle had somehow fallen in. When I came back I saw the discoloration of the metal, that wasn't normal so I pulled it from the fire. When it cooled I noticed it made a unusual harder substance, so from there I just started experimenting with it" he nodded and pondered what you said. He didn't linger on the subject for long however, Instead he changed it.

"I have a proposition for you. That is... if your interested of course" You looked to him. Showing he had your attention. He had mentioned something along the lines of a deal well you walked down the hall with him. "With your permission, I would like to hire you as the royal blacksmith." The skull never faced away from you. You swallowed thickly.

   "You mean... I would work here?" Your brows furrowed. "I don't live anywhere close to here..." he nodded his head, shrugging a bit.

   "I'm aware" he paused. "We would give you a room, Pay you weekly, you would have benefits. Access to the best quality material" he didn't rush all the information out. He simply just read the list from his mind. "The only thing in exchange, is for you to make my armor, weapons, and anyone else I deem fit for them." It was a basic comply. He wanted you to work for him. Have your craft explicitly his only.

   You shifted your weight as you stood. "Do I have to make a choice now?" You were hoping you didn't have to hurry this. you were already hesitant on bringing the sword down here, but now the idea of staying in this frozen tundra had you uncertain. Yes you would live in wealth, and possible glory. But, at the cost of being over a thousand miles away from your family. You also were still uncertain of the land itself.

   Techno shrugged a bit. "I mean, I'm in no particular hurry" he explained. Tilting his head to the side a tad. If you accept, you knew what it meant. Your devotion to a nation, to the royal family, to the Emperor. You really would be making a shot in the dark.

   "If I work here. Could I send the money elsewhere?" He watched you. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could feel them eating away at you.

   "We can arrange that." You watched him in turn. Trying to see if he had a underlying plan, or possible catch to add. "I mean, I am a lenient man" his hands unclasped. Opening his arms slightly to motion to himself.

   "R-right... of course" you nodded. Agreeing with him, not wishing to anger him. He pondered a moment before he stood from his chair. The chains, and pendants around his neck jingling slightly from his movement.

   "I look forward to hearing your answer"

   About a week had gone by before you had your answer. During the said week you started to notice the family had a slight routine. Phil would come for you in the morning to walk you to the dining hall for breakfast. after that Wilbur would either roam to the music room, or to the library to do some of his studies. Techno was harder to pinpoint, sometimes he would leave to his office, be in the library, or other times he would walk towards the room with the planes. No matter what, Phil kept you in good company and made you fell welcomed.

   You choose to tell techno of your answer over dinner. Assuming it would be a decent time since that was when everyone was together. The dinner was casual. Since your stay was expanded, the boys would roam the hall’s in there casual wear instead of there more formal, business attire.

   “So I've thought on it..” Your voice broke through the peaceful silence. Techno and Phil lifted there heads to address you. Wil looked up at you as well, the noodles from the dinner slipping from his lips back into the soup bowl. “I’ll work for you... if you would still have me.”.

“of course we’ll have ya’” Phil said, his smile wide. “It’s been nice havin’ someone new and different around these halls” you smiled a little and nodded to him, looking over to Techno. 

“I do have two questions though...” techno gave a slight nod to you, motioning for you to continue. "If I choose to quit at any point. Could I?" Techno, hummed and nodded.

"Of course, that would only be right." a bit of weight was lifted from your shoulders knowing this wasn't a endless contract type of deal.

”My other question is a bit personal, but could I go back to my village to explain my new job to my parents? I don't feel right sending it through a letter.” You chewed your lip, hoping you weren't over stepping your bounds of what you could request.

Phil answered for Techno. “I don't see why not, me and Tech were discussing going on a trip anyway.” your eyes lit up, you would see your parents again. “You could tag along with us. of course we’ll be making trips other than Madagascar. techno was talking about visiting Russia, and France” you tilted your head a bit.

“why Russia? you already live on a ice cube” you said, humoring Phil, earning a chuckle.

“They have a few things Techno and I have been looking for” he said, continuing back on his dinner. You thought on it a moment and shrugged. nodding your head, you turned your attention back to your food. 

“when would you like to leave?” you asked, curious of when you should pack your bag again. Techno hummed a bit.

“We were thinking of leaving in two days time.” He set his fork down before looking up at you. “I wouldn't worry about packing, we will not be traveling in our typical attire. We plan to dress down” Techno said as he wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I'll have some simpler clothes sent to your room”

You were a little surprised. They planned to travel, but not in there imperial attire? That's what you assumed he meant at least. Either way you were excited. Not only would you be seeing your parents, but you also would be taken to Russia and France. Man if this was your new job, you could get used to this.

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #TE

[fandomscombine]

Baseless Jealousy

Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous!Fred Weasley

WC:2307

BG: Fred and y/n’s relationship is currently 3 years long strong. After a summer apart, it seems to be a 3rd party had become closer to y/n. Is it something that Fred has to worry about or is it just baseless jealousy?

a/n: The pairing the won for this fic is Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous! Fred Weasley, Thanks so much for voting!

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

--

You and Fred started dating 3 years ago. Fred would like to believe that the relationship is strong, other people believes it so too. However ever since the start of 5th year, something started to get on his nerves, or should he say someone.

See, Fred had noticed you getting closer to his Quidditch captain, Oliver wood. He didn’t want to blame it on the summer you two spent apart but he could quite help himself. You had spent the entire apart, no letters whatsoever. At first, he tried to be understanding, it was after all a summer you and your family spent in Italy while attending your aunt’s wedding, you had told him that this was the first time in 8 years that the whole side of your mother’s family was present as they were all scattered into various parts of the world. He understood the importance of family so he had let it slide that you and he hadn’t communicated in the past 2 months- besides, it must be really exhausting to overwork the owls to post cross country.

Which was why he was so excited to finally see you in person at Platform 9 ¾ on the first of September, to his dismay, you had arrived with Oliver Wood. Back then he had pushed his jealousy aside and concluded as a coincidence that you had turned up together at the barrier. You and Oliver are just friends, he told himself, and that was completely fine.

Fred had sneaked a hug behind you and whispered into your ear. ‘Had a great summer?’

You had jumped at the touch but once you realised who is was from you relaxed. ‘Ohh Freddie!’ You turned and hit his chest. ‘Don’t scare me like that!’ Earning a laugh from him. ‘I did, I had such great times catching up with my cousins! You wouldn’t believe how much trouble we almost got into. But of course.’ Your fingers played with the back of his head. ‘I missed having my love around.’

~

‘Hey love I’m off to Quidditch practice now.’ Fred informed, kissing your cheek. ‘Will you be there?’ Ever since you and Fred got together 3 years ago, you would go cheer him on during Quidditch practices whenever you can.

This year however, more are at stake.

During the semi-finals, Quidditch matches are dotted with professional quidditch team mangers in hopes to scout for potential recruits to join their team upon graduation.

It is rumoured that the manager for Puddlemere United would be attending the next match, Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor. Puddlemere United being Oliver’s favourite and dream team, he had been pushing the team with more frequent trainings then ever, hoping to perform the best game they would ever play, to further increase his chances to chosen to be part of the team.

You looked up from the letter you were writing. ‘Yep, just gotta make a quick stop to the owlery. I’ll soon you soon okay?’

~

Arriving at the owlery, a large parcel instantly caught your eye. ‘Oh mum..’ Examining for any potential damage, which thankfully weren’t any.

The barn owl nearest it hooted. ‘Alright! Alright! I was looking if there were damages.’ The owl flapped its wings in annoyance. ‘Here,’ offering your owl some treats. ‘You’ll need to store up some energy on the way back.’ Another hoot sounded, this time from a grey owl, that you recognised belonged too your mother. ‘There’s some for you too.’ After the 2 owls finished their food, you attached your letter your owl’s leg. ‘This is for mother, a thank you note on behalf of Ollie. I’ll write another when we see his reaction to this-I can’t wait.’ You bid the 2 birds goodbye, watching until they disappear unto the horizon.

Now you turn to face your major problem. You had thought that your mother would have had it placed in a box, rather what you got was a large parcel that is clearly wrapped with parchment, with no subtlety in hiding what it truly is.

~

You had finally manged to sneak the parcel into the Gryffindor boys’ locker room, though it had taken a lot more effort than you thought.

You were just leaving when you had bumped into someone.

‘oopf! Sorr-‘

‘y/n love! What are you doing here?’  Fred wondered, looking over your shoulder, trying to figure out what you were up to. ‘You missed the whole practice.’

‘ohh it’s nothing really----Ayyeee! Not so fast!’ You grabbed Harry’s shoulder, preventing him in enter any further. In all honestly, you hadn’t hidden Oliver’s surprise well, there aren’t a lot of hiding places in the changing room. Determined to not ruin the surprise, you need, you must get Oliver to see it first. ‘Had any of you seen Oli-‘

Right then you heard his unmistakably Scottish accent. ‘I’m just saying George, with this new and improve game plan, we are for sure going win the House Cup!’

‘Oliver!’ You shouted, pushing your boyfriend and Harry aside to reach him. ‘Come quick, I’ve got something to show you!’ With all your strength you hauled him to move faster.

‘What is it now y/n? Can’t you see I’m……..’ Oliver had come to a stop. Based on his sudden lack of complaining, you knew he spotted it.

‘It’s a gift from mum and dad. We thought it would future help your chances to be in the professional league.’ You noted. ‘I wasn’t sure which one of these was your locker, so I decided to just hide it behind the benches.’

Oliver hurriedly torn away the wrappings. ‘Oh my…. y/n! A FIREBOLT!’ He turned towards his teammates with eyes watery. ‘A FIREBOLT, A 1993 EBONY WOOD WITH BIRCH TWIGS FIREBOLT!’ He declared with glee.

Too caught up in your cousin’s precious reaction to your gift, you however had failed to noticed Fred displeasure.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick. So much for a girlfriend.’ He grumbled to George. ‘Excuse me.’ Shoving his broom to Harry, Fred walked out of the locker room.

The next thing you knew, you were spinning through the air. Oliver had lifted you in celebration, ‘Thank you y/n thank you so much!’ He mumbled into your hair. ‘Pass on my gratitude to Aunty and Uncle.’  

‘Wait? Did you just say Aunty and Uncle?’ voiced a very confused Harry.

‘Yea.’ Confirmed Oliver. ‘Y/n is my cousin.’

George’s bafflement turned into a startle. ‘You’re joking right?’

‘No, why would be joking George?’ You frowned. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Nope’ He replied, popping the “p”. ‘Now it clears everything up. Freddie is going to be--.’

‘Speaking of, where is Freddie?’ You scanned around, wondering where he might have gone to. Which was when you spotted Harry holding up not one but two brooms. ‘Harry…’

‘y/n listen…..Freddie is uhh ’ George was trying to come up how to break it to you gently.

When Harry blurted out. ‘He left.’

‘He whot?’ demanded Oliver.

‘He left, said something about being sick of his girlfriend.’ Commented Harry frankly. ‘owhh!’

Even though it would have been too late to stop Harry from spitting out more wrongfully worded sentences- the damaged has been done- It still made George happy to put some sense into him. Praying that a smack on the head would have made Harry shut up, George took control of the situation, hoping it could still salvage the weakening remain of his twin’s and y/n relationship.

‘Listen y/n. Regarding my idiot brother, you got to know that he, like everyone else in the room, had thought that you and Oliver were flirting with each other.’

‘eww!’ You couldn’t control your reflex.

‘yeah, his emotions got to the best of him when he witnessed everything that got down here and stormed out because of jealousy.’

‘Oh gosh.’ You head towards the door, you could see a red figure walking towards the castle, kicking at fallen leaves every now and then. ‘I’ve got to get to him.’

You felt someone grab your arm ‘No let me handle this y/n.’ voiced Oliver. ‘I’m part of this… complication after all, besides I bet Fred’s fuming right now and as your older cousin, I am willing to take the heat and make him see reason until he has finally calmed down to talk to you with a clear head.’ He explained reassuringly.

‘But---

‘No buts.’ Oliver kissed your forehead. ‘Stay here and send for him back so all this misunderstanding could be sorted out. Now…’ he addressed Harry to get his new firebolt. ‘I’ve got a relationship to fix.’ Oliver hopped on the broom and sped away.

~

‘Fred! Fred!’ Screamed Oliver.

Fred choose to ignore him, picking up his pace.

Leaving Oliver with no choice but to cut him off.

‘WEASLEY!’ Oliver jumped off his broom.

‘Get Out of My Way Wood!’ Fred raised his hand to shove the other boy away but met with resistance. ‘I SAID GET OUT!’ Fred tried to free his fist from Oliver’s grasp, but the older boy was much stronger.

‘Not until you calm down and listen to what I have to say.’

‘Fine.’ Oliver let go of him, he raised his arms high in surrender. ‘y/n sent you, didn’t she?’

‘No. I came here on my own will. I told her to stay behind to protect her.’ Oliver confessed.

‘To protect her?’ scoffed Fred. ‘From what? From me?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh of course, it’s HER who needs protecting and not me. Not me, after I see you both shamelessly act so close to one another, closer, might I tell you then her own boyfriend! If was as if I wasn’t there’

‘Fred,’

Fred brushed his hand away, ignoring Oliver’s interruption. ‘When did you two get so close anyway? You know at first, I tried to pass it off as friendship but as time when on, I could help but think-‘

‘Y/N IS MY COUSIN!’ blurted Oliver, unable to hear another person thinking that they were other than family. ‘THERE’S NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN US!’

‘what?’  

‘Apparently for some reason most of you lot don’t know. George and Harry were just as surprised too. But yes, y/n is my cousin, on my father’s side. My father and her mother are brothers and sisters. I thought with all these years we’ve known each other that you’d know we’re related. Guess I was wrong.’

‘I….I didn’t know.. I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted but we both know there is someone more deserving of hearing that apology.’ Oliver nodded towards the locker room. ‘She’s there waiting.’

‘Thank you, Oliver.’ He held out his hand. ‘Friends?’

‘Friends’ Oliver shook his hand, the stared straight into his eyes. ‘BUT…’

‘but?’

‘But if you hurt her again Weasley, you have me to answer for, that is of course after she’s done her share.’ Without another word, Oliver flew off, testing out his new gift.

~

Fred ran full speed ahead, praying that he didn’t completely ruin a wondering 3-year relationship with the girl of his dreams. Before entering the room, he conjured up a bouquet of your favourite flowers, hoping that could help out his image.

Testing the waters, he called. ‘y/n? are you in here love?’

‘In here’ you sighed. He hated hearing you so sad. He hated it more that it was him causing you to feel that way.

Cautiously he made his way to you with arms outstretched. You accepted the flowers, to that he let himself relax a bit, bringing them up to you nose, you noted. ‘They smell nice, thank you.’

Fred was grateful that you hadn’t scolded him off on his baseless jealousy, still he knew he had to apologize and win his girl back. Kneeling in front where you sat, Fred took your hands and poured out his heart.

‘Y/n, I am sorry. I made a huge mistake, I… I got jealous of how you had gotten close to Oliver this year.’ He confessed.’ Ever since the start of this year, I thought that Oliver was stealing you away from me. I thought that perhaps you two had something going on behind my back.’

Chuckling to himself he continued. ‘I didn’t even realise that you were cousins until he told me just now. I feel so stupid. 3 years together, 5 years of knowing you. It was so obvious.’ Fred closed his eyes.

‘Still, with my worries, I should have asked, asked what you and Oliver were.’ He stressed. ‘I should have come and talked to you, to sort this out like what a, healthy, trusting and understanding relationship would. But instead I keep all my doubts and insecurities brew, I went deep into my own conclusions that were without evidence, I let my jealousy get the best of me.’

Fred brought your knuckles to his lips. ‘y/n love, I’m sorry. I love you and if you want a space, I understand. But there is no a day in this world where I would not rather be back in your loving arms. I hope that you could forgive me.’

‘Freddie, I forgive you.’ You cup his tear stained cheek. ‘It was just a stupid misunderstanding.’

Gesturing for him to sit beside you ‘I thought it was common knowledge that Oliver and I are cousins. Apparently not. Yes, we weren’t that close before.’ You admitted.  ‘But we really did get to know each other in the summer. 5 weeks either being sounded by adult relatives or small children, we hung out often, being the only 2 cousins similar in age.’

You return back into a more serious tone. ‘Of course, I did wish you had voiced it out, we could have avoided this conflict altogether. So, promise me this. Whatever problems may arise, before we delved into our own assumptions, we would always talk it out. Alright?’

‘I promise.’

~

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

Tagging also all those who voted for the~Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous!Fred Weasley~ Thank you! @jenniweaslee​ @ najiler @ im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @ gweaslvy and the lovely anons!

#fred weasley x reader #oliver wood x reader #fred weasley imagine #oliver wood imagine #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #oliver wood imagines #fandomscombine writes

[muertawrites]

Fireside (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 1,775

Author’s Note: I am so deeply sorry this took so long to post. I don’t know what happened but after Thanksgiving the creative part of my brain completely shut down and all I could do was lay in bed and play video games. But it’s back now so 🎉🎉🎉 happy new year to all of us! 

I got this request a WHILE ago and had written something else for it but after reconsidering, I totally hated it, so this is the rewrite for some cozy, wintery goodness. I also love this idea because I’m constantly cold - my feet and hands are always freezing and even in summer I’ll wear sweaters and hoodies because aircon can get pretty chilly when you have the body temp of your average vampire. 

Now for a little update: in the new year, I’ll be focusing more on original works than fanfiction. I’m still going to finish Two Halves, and I’ll still write fanfiction (because it’s still super fun) but I have so many ideas for original works that are taking over my brain that it seems only fitting to shift that direction. If you’re on my subscriber list and would like to only receive alerts for fanfic, let me know and I’ll add you to a separate list. 

I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday, taking time to relax and spend time with loved ones, and generally just glad to have survived this shithole of a year. Here’s hoping that 2021 goes better - 2020 set the bar pretty low so it shouldn’t be too hard. 🥂

Snow was a rare occurrence in the Fire Nation. Summers typically scorched, followed by peaceful autumns and mild winters; a little rainfall was all one typically expected during the colder months in the Imperial City. 

This year, however, was much different. The mountains that bordered the villages and towns throughout the island were white capped under gray skies; streets were slickened by thick layers of ice that settled between cobblestones and creased the panes of windows; bracing breezes swept through landscapes unaccustomed to such unforgiving weather, carrying flurries of snow that bit at cheeks and cloaked the world in a dull ivory veil. Winter came to the Fire Nation seeking a cruel, unwarranted vengeance.

You woke in the middle of the night to find the fire beside your bed had died, leaving your borrowed room in a state of bitter, slicing cold. It wasn't the first time the Firelord’s palace had left you uncomfortably chilled since your arrival for his New Year’s celebrations, as the building was never meant to withstand this type of climate - sweeping ceilings, open breezeways, and tall windows with thin shutters ensured that the cold had its way. Being from the Northern Earth Kingdom, used to sturdy wooden lodges with massive fire pits that could burn an entire tree trunk with one lighting, this strange change of the typical season made you ache for home. 

Knowing there were no matches beside the hearth (given the sheer amount of fire benders that resided in the palace), you gathered up your courage and begrudgingly rolled from your mattress, taking the blankets with and wrapping them tightly around yourself. The walls around you creaked, shifting under the push of moaning winds, as you slipped into the hallway in search of your host. 

You were thankful that Zuko decided to keep his personal wing of the palace confined to a space that was mostly enclosed; the only breezeways in this part of the sprawling estate surrounded its courtyards and gardens, and were blocked by sets of heavy wood doors that shielded the inner parts of the building from being overcome by the elements. As you walked, traipsing through the corridor under your mound of blankets like some sort of shadowy, death-bringing phantom, you passed one of the windows that overlooked the gardens, and found it frosted under heavy white tufts of snow; puffy, clumped flakes whirled down from the sky, falling haphazardly as they escaped the grip of the whipping wind. Even in the relative warmth of the palace, your body shivered thinking of how frigid the air outside must be. 

Because of the abnormal cold, Zuko moved his mattress out of his bedroom and into his sitting room, where a large, decorative fireplace stood nestled into the far wall. You approached his sleeping form with gentle, quiet steps, being careful not to startle him; you lay a hand on his shoulder and he jolted awake, drawing a sharp breath in as he twisted to face you, blinking blearily to make out your features in the dark. 

“What are you doing?” he muttered. 

“I'm cold,” you whispered in response. “My fire went out.” 

Zuko sighed, fixing you with an irked, exhausted expression. 

“Seriously?” he groaned. “This is the third time this week.” 

“It's not my fault nobody has any friggin matches in this place,” you quipped. “And besides, why bring a servant all the way up here when I have one of the world’s greatest fire benders down the hall?”

Zuko huffed, then rolled back over in an attempt to shove you off. 

“There should be more blankets in your closet,” he grumbled. 

“I'm wearing all of them,” you retorted. 

You stood above him, waiting, but got no response. Shivering, and with an exasperated sigh, you pulled back the blankets around him, shuffling between them and nestling into his back; he snapped his head around once more, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“... Isn’t this a little uncomfortable?” he wondered. 

“Not really,” you replied. “We used to do this all the time when we were teenagers.” 

“We haven't done this since we were teenagers.”

You hummed, recalling your time together during the war. Even on the hottest days, your body was cold, your fingers always reasonably corpselike to anyone who happened to touch them - Zuko was one of those unfortunate people, and the lack of circulation in your limbs came as quite a worry to him. Throughout the day, he would take one of your hands in his, heating his palm until your skin took on a more lively temperature. When he noticed how much you layered at night when the air became cooler, he started sleeping nearer to you, eventually curling up around you to keep you warm. After the war, when he got into the habit of visiting you around the winter holidays, you still found yourself seeking him for warmth, tucking your hands into the sleeves of his robes or curling his palm around your icy fingers, finding sanctuary in the way he heated his skin to appease you. While it was true you hadn't slept together since you were younger, you hadn't ever needed to - desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“I should have remembered that you get so grumpy when you're tired,” you teased him, rubbing your feet against his; he hissed, but didn't pull away. 

“You're freezing,” he commented. “I should have remembered you're dead on the inside.” 

You giggled, sighing happily as the familiar heat of his skin warming like a furnace chased the chill from your toes. You slid your feet up along his ankles, causing him to shiver; his body tensed for a moment, then eased into your touch, quickly finding comfort in its familiarity. 

“Aang used to assume we were a couple because of this,” Zuko mumbled. “He still does.” 

“You're just a good friend,” you replied. You nuzzled your face into the broad, solid expanse of his back, breathing in his scent of scorched wood and sea salt. He felt like home. “Good friends don't let their friends freeze to death.” 

Zuko chuckled, taking hold of your hands that lay on his waist and cupping them within his own; he held your knuckles up to his mouth and huffed warm, smokey air onto them, heating them until they no longer felt cold. He tucked them beneath the fabric of his tunic, keeping them tepid between the fabric of his undershirt. 

“Uncle says the same thing,” he mused. “He says we treat each other like lovers, whether we realize it or not.” 

“My neighbors have asked me what my husband does that takes him away for so long out of the year...” you commented, eliciting another breathy laugh from your companion. “But I think I'd know if you were in love with me.” 

Zuko rolled over, turning to face you; his arm latched at your waist, his chest almost pressed to you and your noses grazing each other in the small space of his mattress. You blushed, the color blending with the soft, balmy glow of the low hearth behind him. 

“What makes you think I'm not in love with you?” he wondered. 

You paused, watching the flames flicker over the angular features of his face. Though he was silhouetted, and so close he seemed to envelop all of you, you could make out a tender gleam in his eye; could feel the flutter in his chest as he split it open, tentatively revealing his heart to you. 

“... I'd like to think you would have mentioned it,” you answered after a moment, “but I know you better than that.” 

Zuko grinned; you watched the curve of his cheek as it swelled with the action. 

“I might have mentioned it,” he murmured, his voice lilting with a gentle mirth. “Just not to you.”

“Of course not,” you teased. You mirrored his smile, easing into him as his foot began to stroke against your ankle once more. “Either way, I know you don't love me.” 

“And why is that?” Zuko whispered. 

“Well… you never write to me about anything exciting,” you replied. “You always seem so content to write to me about your thoughts, or what plays you've seen recently, or your conversations with Iroh. You never tell me about the impressive, world-altering Firelord stuff or your incredible exploits as a warrior.” 

Zuko smirked, raising a hand to brush some hair away from your face. His fingers were calloused and lukewarm, tracing over your temple with consideration and care. 

“Why else?” 

“You've never tried to kiss me,” you noted, “or touch me like a lover. You never try to push our boundaries past anything that's comfortable for us. Even right now - I'm laying in your bed, but you refuse to touch me in a way you're unsure of.” 

“Then you don't love me, either,” Zuko added. His body had gravitated flush to yours, your legs braided together under the pile of blankets you'd buried him in. “You only want to sleep with me when you're cold. You could just as easily call a servant for help.” 

“And you only want to keep me warm out of obligation,” you agreed. “It wouldn’t make you look very good if I died of hypothermia on your watch.” 

For a long moment, Zuko gazed at you. You basked in his silence, the easiness of his form so close to yours, the native feeling of his arm around your waist and his breath tickling your cheeks. The fire snapped quietly in its hearth, its flames rising and falling in time with his inhales and exhales. 

“I’ve missed this,” Zuko admitted in a whisper. “Laying with you. I wish we could do it more often.” 

“I’ve missed it, too,” you affirm. “I always used to sleep better with you.” 

“And that’s it?” Zuko teased. 

“That’s it,” you giggled back. 

He chanced a kiss to your forehead, pressing his lips between your brows and letting them linger there, savoring the coolness of your skin. You shut your eyes, giving yourself entirely to his touch. 

“In the new year… do you think we could be lovers?” he asked as he pulled away. 

“... I think your uncle is right,” you murmured. “I think we already are.” 

With a faint, bashful smile, Zuko pulled you closer (if the act were even possible), hugging you tightly to him; you held him close, pressing the whole of your body to his and soaking in his steady, comforting warmth. As the wind howled outside, shaking the flimsy wooden eaves of the feeble shelter around you, you fell asleep in the heat of his fireside, safe in the knowledge that his arms held you. 

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[sirisuorionblack]

Hello 👋 I was wondering if you could write about Remus Lupin bitting one of Harry’s friends, and they’re relatively alright with it but lovely Remus hates himself for it- a bit of angst but with happy ending?

Family

Remus Lupin x Sirius Black

Summary - The marauders are back at Hogwarts at the age of 34 for yet another adventurous night after years but this time it didn't end rather well but Remus had his family.

A/N Okie so this was a wonderful idea and I just had to write it and I might have tweaked my request status a bit. But, anyway, a few things before you start, everybody is alive, no voldy, no nothing. And since you didn’t specify which one of Harry’s friends, I naturally went for Ron to add in the drama. Also, this happens in their third year and Remus and Sirius are well, married, sorry if it isn't a pairing you are comfortable with. And this may be a bit rushed, idk but I loved it tbh.

Remus ran his fingers over the scars on his knuckles. Remus was gifted with such a beautiful life, his friends and family so close to him, leading a life filled with love and happiness, the sound of innocent laughter always echoing in his ears no matter what.

Over the years, he and his best friends had grown from adventurous teens to adventurous adults, still spending every full moon like a tightly-knit pack, running into the woods and barking in their animal forms. They had never grown out of it and Remus was more than grateful for it. It was truly a wonder, regardless of how much they had grown, married and having kids of their own, never spared a thought if any other was in need of help.

Thirty-four. It was bewildering how he managed to pass twenty-seven years tuning into a full-on beast with insane thoughts and no memory of his human self, only noticing the stag, dog and the rat that managed to keep him accompanied no matter what. He pitied the wolf at times, he would never have the chance to know what love is, never understand how people care about others and would protect their loved ones.

Remus knew what love is, Sirius taught him that like his life depended on it. Remus shivered every time he thought about this. They were no longer the playful and traumatized teens, they were adults with responsibilities now and it was terrifying. But Remus found comfort in the very aspect of it, teaching and just as his friends insisted he did become the Defence Against Dark Arts professor and he more than just loved it.

And now after years, they were back in the shrieking shack for the next full moon, this time, honestly dreading it. Remus suspected that Harry and his friends were rather curious about their shenanigans in the shrieking shack. Harry, of course, knew that Remus was a werewolf he had known it ever since he was realised, his father, Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail would go missing for hours and then his mother would be with Uncle Moony, treating all the new scars that Harry was told is a sign of bravery from a young age by his godfather.

For some odd reason, Dumbledore had requested that Harry must not know was that it was his very own Uncle Moony spending his night away in the shrieking shack for which Sirius had reasoned was solely for the drama it ensued.

“Moony, stop fretting,” James said, patting him on the shoulder and pulling him away from the window sill he was standing before, “It is Harry we are talking about, I think he would be rather cautious,”

“That’s the stupidest things you have ever told in your whole life, Prongs,” Sirius commented, smirking and looking out of the window, to see when the full moon rises.

“Hey!” James glared at him, “I mean, yes, he could be a curious little shit but he is…good,”

“This is not about if he is good or not, James,” Remus snapped. He took a deep breath and sat on a chair that had been placed near the wall, away from the three of them.

“Right, sorry,” James said, looking at him apologetically and remained silent giving Remus an opportunity to continue, “Just like you said, he is a curious child and his friends almost give him a run for his money and there is so little chance to no chance that they would not be coming here to “find out“ what’s going on! And like what if I accidentally hurt someone!?”

Remus shuddered as he said those words. Contrasting how he was speaking moments ago, he looked up to see Peter, James and Sirius looking at him and he fixed his eyes to Sirius’ and he whispered, “They could die or even worse become a monster like me,”

“Moony, enough,” Sirius said, calmly, drawing the attention to himself rather than Remus, “The full moon will be in minutes, there is nothing we can do,”

“Remus,” Peter sighed, emerging from the corner he stood in, “First of all - you are not a monster. Second of all - we are here, nothing wrong is gonna happen,”

”What if something does?” Remus argued. He didn’t have to see to know that Sirius closed his eyes to calm himself down.

“Sirius, do you hear yourself!?” Remus stood up abruptly, “Your words drip with irresponsibility!”

“It’s not irresponsibility, Moony,” he said, motioning Peter to take over as he walked towards Remus, “it’s the reality. What do you think we should do, then?”

For once, Remus Lupin was out of ideas. He didn’t know what to say but he knew Sirius was right, there was almost nothing they could do other than control the wolf and every full moon they deal with would be a unique tale of itself, never certain of what could happen. It was woven with time.

“It’s time,” Peter said, grimly. Remus took a shuddering breath and fell into Sirius’ arms, who was still in his human form, unlike the stag and rat, watching their moves carefully.

Remus was right. In the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, Harry Potter laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling, the noises in the shrieking shack and the tales about it resonating in his mind. He was confused about what might be there and curious to find out when nobody would tell him the truth although they seemed to know. And today, they would unveil it.

James was rather happy that the full moon would end in a couple of minutes but he was not allowed to stay that way when he saw the wolf stop dead in tracks, sniffing the air. They all behaved rather weirdly, sometimes hilarious, in these forms but this time, it seemed different, like the wolf had encountered something out of order.

The stag and the dog stood cautiously, ready to pounce any moment while the rat, discreetly moved in the direction of the wolf’s sight and to a bush. They could hear whispers and murmurs as the animals and humans stood still on both sides, afraid of what might show and for the first time they all saw the wolf stand so extremely still.

And then slowly, a mess of unruly, jet black hair emerged from behind the bush. The wolf took deep, rapid, breaths that almost sounded like growling, bared its fangs.

The black hair further raised until they could see the bright green eyes, behind the round glasses and the wolf noticing the presence of the human, pounced.

The dog was rather quick to act and jumped on the wolf, redirecting its path but a stag and a dog wasn’t enough for the wolf to be distracted from its meal. Hunger in the pit of the wolf’s stomach derived its senses insane.

Harry stood up to his full height, wide eyes watching the wolf push a familiar black dog away from itself and leapt forward, fangs sinking into the flesh before it blacked out, falling to the ground.

He is going to get an earful from his father.

“Careful, Mr Lupin,” Madam Pomfrey rushed to him as Remus tried to sit up and take a look around. She gently pushed him back to a sleeping position on the hospital bed. Through half-lidded eyes, he frantically murmured Sirius’ name over and over again.

“Hey, hey, calm down, love,” Sirius was at his side, holding his scarred hand. Remus held onto it tightly and asked, “What happened?”

He could see Sirius hesitating to tell him and the vague memories remaining in his head from the night was not doing him any better.

“Sirus, please tell me what happened!?” He asked, anxiety rising in the bit of his stomach, the nasty churning feeling retuning. Sirius gently pushed the strands of hair from his forehead and leaned up, pressing his lips to Remus’ forehead.

“Th-the kids-” Sirius started just for him to be interrupted as Remus sat up, abruptly. He didn’t have time to sort out his chaotically, messy feelings and the one thing in his mind was what happened to the kids.

“Moony, Moony,” Sirius hurried to calm him down that, if anything, just made Remus panic even more in his hazy state of mind. Sirius placed his hands against Remus’ shoulder, pushing him gently to sit on the edge of the bed when he tried to stand up.

“Nobody is hurt, Remus,” he said, crouching a bit to look at Remus in the eyes but sighed with a pang in his chest when he saw Remus’ eyes unfocused and roaming above his head, at the various hospital beds.

Remus gasped and his heart sunk to the bottom when he saw the bed surrounded by kids and adults. It was Ron Weasley. His teeth had sunk into the boy’s shoulder blades where he could clearly see the bandages wrapped tightly around. He couldn’t imagine the pain the poor boy would have felt.

Remus Lupin felt like a terrible monster.

Why him? Why is it always him!? Just when he thought everything would be alright when he began to let himself wallow in the joy of being back at Hogwarts. And because of him the boy, merely thirteen, would have to become a monster every month.

“You are awake,” James, who seemed to have been outside the hospital wing, rushed to him, "Oh, thank gods-”

”I told you this would happen,” Remus whispered, hoarsely, staring at the foot of the empty bed before him. His mind was racing with unwanted thoughts. He felt mad at himself, at his friends, at the kids but was immediately engulfed in a pang of even bigger guilt.

A dry sob involuntarily escaped from his lips. He couldn’t understand how Greyback did that to the kids when here he was dying with guilt. He didn’t dare think of that one terrible evening when he was just seven.

Remus struggled to take a deep breath. “Moony, look at me, please,” Sirius said and these words in Remus’ head felt like a command. He slowly raised his head to look into those mesmerising grey eyes, sparkling like they always did in the sunlight. Those grey eyes were the only ones that had the ability to calm him down in seconds yet he found it difficult at the moment to regain his normal breathing pace.

“Hey, it's alright. I am here. We all are right here,” Sirius pushed the strands of hair out of his face as Remus tugged at his own shirt, as though it would help him breathe properly.

Sirius looked at James who immediately moved to the nearest window, pushing it open. The gush of fresh, cold breeze for some reason warmed his shattered heart. Remus, although still shaking, managed to take deep breaths.

“Listen to me, alright?” Sirius said, cautiously and slowly, “Nothing is wrong, everybody is doing good - I said you to just listen, Lupin. Ron did get a few injuries but, thankfully, since it was time for you to transform back, the bite was equivalent to that of a domestic dog or something,”

Remus didn't have the ability to comprehend what he was saying and just gawked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Sirius smiled gently, looking at Remus’ wide, confused eyes. “Ron will not transform every month. You didn’t “ruin“ his life, which I am sure at this point you have confirmed. And Madam Pomfrey had down all the necessities so he would be alright in a couple of days,”

“Oh,” Remus breathed, chuckling lightly but happily. Ron was alright. He was alright! He wouldn't turn into a monster every month, he wouldn't have all those hideous scars, he wouldn't be weak every other day, he wouldn't seem to look way older than he actually was. He would be able to lead a peaceful childhood.

James sat next to him while Peter sat on the bed before him, “Now you might be wondering why is Molly crying buckets when her son would be alright,”

“No, I’m not James,” Remus rolled his eyes, pushing James away and shaking his head with a light smile. He discreetly wiped the tears forming in the edge of his eyes.

“Uncle Moony!” Harry yelled, and ran to his uncle. Remus tried to stand up as his nephew rushed into his arms, the boy holding onto him so tightly. Remus slowly wrapped his arms around the boy and felt Sirius stand up behind him, providing support to his weak frame.

“But you should ‘cause I have prepared an answer for it. If you are not asking me why then Padfoot go ahead,” James said and watched with a smirk as Sirius cleared his throat, and asked, “Why?”

”Thank you very much for your certainly not forced question - it is because she is a mother!” James said going jazz hands just for him to be hit with three pillows.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Moony,” Harry whispered into his uncle’s chest, feeling guilty as ever. He heard the man sigh and the arms wrapped around him grew tighter. Remus took off Harry’s askew glasses and whispered, “It’s okay to me, Haz but your mum,”

Harry giggled, burying his face into Remus’ chest, “I love you, Uncle Moony,”

“I love you too, Haz” Remus ruffled the boy’s already messy hair.

"Wait!" Peter said, jumping up and stood beside Harry, smirking, "Can we, I dunno, take points from him?"

"No! that's stupid!" James complained, shaking his head, "Gryffindor needs to win the house cup. We can ground him or something but not take away points,"

"Yes! Can I ground him, please?" Sirius asked.

"No,, absolutely not," Remus said, holding the boy closer to him, "Nobody is gonna ground the poor boy. Leave him alone,"

"Gah! You're no fun, Moony," Peter said, shaking his head in disapproval.

James, after controlling his laughter said, “Also, Harry, your mum told me to yell at you as a favour for her and she would do her job when you come home for break,”

"Uncle W," Harry said, making Peter chuckle at the nickname the boy insisted in calling him saying it was too weird calling his uncle "Wormtail", "I will steal your cheese sticks,"

"No," Peter groaned, dramatically, "Cheese sticks, my weakness,"

“But you won’t yell at me, dad,” Harry said, pulling away from Remus and putting his glasses on.

“I will,” James said, seriously.

“It is not that you won’t, Prongs,” Sirius said, from behind Remus, “It is that you cant,”

“Oh shut up,” James said, rolling his eyes.

Remus couldn’t help but allow his eyes to skip towards Ron every often and harry, of course, noticed it. “Ron is alright, Uncle Moony. He was actually saying it doesn’t hurt much anymore and he was rather bewildered why his mother was crying too. Oh! he also says you guys were so cool yesterday,”

“We know, prongslet, we are the coolest people ever to exist,” Sirius flipped his hair, dramatically. Harry laughed.

Remus took a deep breath. He would never forgive himself for what had happened, but he had his family with him and they sure would make him forget it. These wonderful people were his family.

#remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar #remus x sirius #domestic wolfstar #wolfstar raising harry #jily #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #hogwarts #harry potter fanfiction

[whimperwoods]

Part 8 of Gozukk and Anna.

In this installment, many names? Family lore abounds. Anna is only mostly the center of attention, which is probably for the best. I am honestly only partially sure this chapter even counts as whump, but I just needed a nice breakfast and some nice new friends and for Anna to get some new Gozukk context before she has to do more scary things like go talk to a doctor.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with all the new names/characters.

tw: slavery (past), tw: past rape/noncon (barely referenced), tw: past abuse,

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Gozukk left a note for the half-elf, pinned to the inside of the tent flap, and let her sleep. He hoped she would wake for breakfast while others were still there for her to meet, but he also knew enough about her wounds, inside and out, to know she needed the sleep if she could get it.

He was talking to Azzor when her head poked tentatively out of the tent flap, glanced uneasily toward him and the others and the fire, and vanished back inside. His heart fell a little, though he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t expected the fear.

Azzor had noticed him watching something, and probably his face falling while he wasn’t thinking about keeping a front up. When he turned his gaze back to his best friend’s face, the general was already rolling his eyes. “Go on, it’s fine. You’ve gotten the key things from my report. I assume you’re staying around camp today?”

Gozukk nodded, looking back over at the tent, and trying to decide how offended he should be that Azzor wasn’t bothering to pretend he couldn’t read him like a book..

“This is that baby hawk all over again,” Azzor said, “Don’t be surprised when you find yourself bleeding even though you’re stronger than her.”

Gozukk’s face slid into a sideways grin. “Which baby hawk?”

“Exactly. It was like you liked having beak-sized gashes all up your arms.”

Something in Azzor’s eyes said he wasn’t upset, just wary, and Goz could live with that. “Anyway,” he answered, “This time, her wings are clipped. You have to acknowledge that’s different.”

“Fear is fear. You can’t expect something that scared and with that many reasons not to trust anther creature to decide you’re the safe thing.”

Gozukk scowled. “She’s not a something. She’s a someone.”

Az sighed. “I know, Gozukk. But elves can be dangerous, too. You know that.”

He did. He did. His face warmed over his cheekbones, and he found he couldn’t meet his best friend’s eyes. “I know, Az. It’s just -”

“You’ve never seen a broken wing you didn’t want to splint.”

Azzor sounded resigned more than he did disappointed, something hiding in his tone that told Gozukk they were still alright. A wave of calm washed through him. It was clear, then. It was clear what he was doing, even if all the rest - wasn’t.

As Gozukk stepped away, toward his tent, Azzor reached out and gripped his forearm. “You know I’m only paranoid because someone has to be, right, Goz?”

Gozukk gripped Azzor’s forearm in return. “And you know it’s why I made you General.”

Azzor squeezed his arm before letting go. “Go on, Mama Bird.”

“Papa Bird.”

“You’re never winning that one.”

Gozukk made a vague, dismissive noise and tried to hold onto the hope of the morning. There was breakfast. People were well-rested. The humans from yesterday were still a problem, but nothing new was looming over today. It was going to be a good day. It was.

Anna was still just inside the tent flap when he opened it, and she immediately flinched away from him, hard, one hand moving instinctively upward as if she might need to protect herself from being hit.

He wanted to reach for her shoulder, but he shouldn’t, and his body stiffened as he resisted the impulse. She took a half-step backward, bobbing her head into a series of quick half-bows. “Oh, umm... I’m sorry Sir - Mr. Gozukk - I’m - I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I knew you were here, just didn’t realize you were still at the door.” He reached forward and brushed her hair behind her ear, never quite touching her head, and was pleased to find the little bobs stopping, even if she didn’t seem much calmer.

He pushed the tent flap open farther and stepped inside, moving around her with a few extra inches space to spare.

As soon as the flap closed, blocking out the morning sun, it was harder to hold onto the hope that today would be better. But then, it didn’t have to be, did it? It just needed to not be worse.

He dropped down into a comfortable squat, rather than making her look up, and her eyebrows raised in surprised as he peered at her face from below.

Her hands fluttered anxiously in front of her. “Oh - I -”

He held his hands out, hoping she’d give him hers and stay standing, rather than collapsing again. It was worth a try, anyway, and if she did fall down to her knees, at least he was already close enough to make eye contact.

“Oh!” she said again, softer this time. She placed her hands tentatively into his, her cheeks brightening into a blush.

Her hands were so small in his, immediately swallowed up even by his loosest, gentlest grasp. The bandages around her palms did a little bit to camouflage the narrow palms, but couldn’t disguise the delicacy of the slender, shaking fingers resting against his palm.

He held her hands as gently as he could manage. “Anna,” he began seriously, “I need you to listen to me, and I need you to tell me the truth. We have time, and there is no rush. Are you ready to meet people, or would you like me to bring breakfast in here?”

Her breathing shallowed, and her eyes started darting around, frightened, but she didn’t have much of anywhere else to look, not with him squatting down to look at her from under her hair, and not when she couldn’t twist away without pulling her hands out of his (admittedly loose) grip.

She blushed harder. “I can do it, Mas-” she flinched, her eyes blinking closed for a second and then meeting his fully as she corrected herself, big and pleading. “Gozukk. I can do it . . . Gozukk.” Her voice trailed away to near silence, and he decided she’d been stressed out enough. He gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze and then stood back up.

“Excellent. We’ll get you some breakfast over by where Djaana’s sitting, so you’ll have a familiar face nearby. I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”

“Th-Thank you . . . Gozukk.”

She still seemed to be struggling with his name, but allowed him to usher her out of the tent, holding the flap open for her.

The adults in the camp made a point of not staring, in spite of the curiosity in their passing glances, but the children gawped openly, and Anna shrank closer to his side, pulling in on herself.

It felt good for her to cringe closer rather than farther away, as much as he didn’t like watching her stay so afraid. Fear is fear, Azzor had said, and backed into a corner, he was right, but Anna was a person and not a bird, and he had to hope for better.

Djaana smiled at both of them as they approached, her youngest, still just a toddler, ducking behind her calves and peering out at Gozukk and the stranger.

“How’s your back feeling this morning?” Djaana asked, her tone casual, as though this were a normal morning chat. “Mukzod is back in camp if you’d like a healer to take a look. You can go with Dumul, when he goes to train.”

Gozukk’s oldest nephew raised a hand, waving in Anna’s direction. “That’s me.”

Anna dropped into a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”

Dumul bowed back without rising from his feet, a deep polite nod. Gozukk’s heart warmed. Dumul and his cousin had both been a handful lately, insisting on taking new responsibilities and getting away from home, both of them only recently grown into their limbs, so that Gozukk still imagined them as lanky adolescents and was surprised when they came into view and weren’t.

Beside Dumul, Enzah rose to her feet, moving carefully and slowly toward him and Anna to avoid startling the girl, apparently having been briefed on the girl’s terror even though she’d been gone with the scouts yesterday. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, well-carved wooden comb.

“Hey, Anna,” she said gently, “My aunt told me about you. I went with some scouts yesterday to find the campsites the caravan used before, and I thought this might be yours.”

Anna backed up slightly, almost bumping against Gozukk’s side. “Oh! Um, n-no ma’am. I’m - that was - part of the cargo.”

Her face had paled a little, and Gozukk could feel her shaking just inches from him.

“Thank you, Enzah, that was kind,” he said, “Why don’t you keep it as spoils?”

She grinned, something in the expression reminding him painfully of his late brother as she did, but he needed to stay in the here and now.

“I’m not a very good medic yet,” Dumul said, “But if you’d like me to look at your hand before you eat, I can try a small healing spell. Elder Mazogga says I should focus more on slow medicine before I learn the fast way, but a little magic can’t hurt.”

Anna’s hand closed into a fist as she pulled her hand closer to her chest, almost as if on instinct.

Dumul held his hands up, palms toward her, “Or if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. I know Uncle’s had enough battle wounds to dress them well.”

“Better than you,” Djaana commented affectionately, “You should have listened to Mazogga.”

Dumul nodded deeply, conceding the point, but they all knew they couldn’t really regret him choosing to do healer’s training first, before medicine. Enzah stretched, letting her shirt ride up to reveal the messy scar across her stomach where she’d nearly been disemboweled a few months ago, and Gozukk felt a familiar small spike of fear as he thought about the fact that she’d been allowed to go scouting again with the rest of her training cohort, even to a place as safe as an abandoned camp.

Mel had been peering out from behind her mother’s legs with more and more confidence as they all stood still, and finally tugged on Djaana’s hand, “I go Uncle Gokukk?” she asked in a whisper that wasn’t really a whisper.

“Why don’t you go see if Uncle Gozukk wants to see you?” Djaana answered back.

The girl’s eyes brightened and she took off running on her chubby little legs, closing the distance between them so fast Gozukk barely had time to squat down and open his arms to catch her. She shrieked with giggles as he scooped her up and tossed her into the air, only to catch her again and hold her steady this time, plenty aware that baby cuddles didn’t last forever.

Mel buried her face against his shoulder and peered sideways at Anna, who seemed to have calmed down a little, too.

“Anna, this is my niece Mel. Mel, can you say hi to Anna?”

The toddler looked up and waved at the half-elf, but then buried her face back in his shoulder, suddenly shy. He laughed. “Good job, Mel. Do you want to let Anna say hi, too?”

Mel turned her head to the side to look at Anna and the half-elf spoke quickly, still clearly on edge. “Oh! Hi, Mel. I’m - I’m Anna.”

He introduced her to everyone around the circle, explaining that Jak was off with a friend, but she’d seen him yesterday, and his brother-in-law was away on a long hunt, back in a few days.

Finally, he settled her down in a spot by the fire next to Enzah. Usually, he’d have said Dumul was the less intimidating of the two, but he knew Anna was wary of men. It was reassuring when Enz immediately started talking to her in a calmer, softer voice than usual, offering her food and fussing over her a little bit, more like Djaana than like her late father. He smiled softly and relaxed. She’d always been a good girl, and he knew he could trust her to try her best, even if assuaging people’s fears wasn’t exactly her strongest skill.

He moved around the camp, talking briefly with various groups of people, but with half an eye on Anna the whole time, never straying too far to get back to her quickly if he needed to.

By the time Mel was wiggling to be let down and he had to return to his sister, it was clear both that his family was happy to accept Anna, and that it was a little overwhelming for her. She’d eaten, though he couldn’t imagine Enzah hadn’t been a little harsh about forcing the issue if Anna had been as reluctant as yesterday. Her arms were back around her middle, and something in her eyes looked half-dazed, her body hunched small next to his niece’s casual lanky sprawl.

Sending Mel toddling back to her mother, he crouched down beside Anna, whose brown-green eyes met his immediately this time, half desperate. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, a quick gesture of reassurance. “One more stop, and then I think you probably need more rest. Djaana’s not wrong. A visit to the healer or the midwife wouldn’t go amiss, now that you’re settled in a little bit.”

Anna’s eyes teared up and she started shaking again, eliciting a glare from Enzah he could feel burning into the side of his face, as if there were anything he could do about this.

He patted his niece casually on the shoulder as he rose to his feet, then offered a hand to Anna to help her up.

She took it immediately, quick enough this time to surprise him, though not unwelcomely. He guided her to Mukzod’s tent without quite touching her elbow, aware even without making contact that she was trembling again, but this time as she walked close to him, she at least seemed to be staying close, rather than trying to disappear into his side entirely, which seemed like a good sign.

“Before we go in to the tent,” he said gently, “I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. Mukzod heals with help from the gods, and I can promise you he won’t call down any kind of magic to hurt you. But if you’re afraid, you don’t have to be healed at all. I just also want to make sure there’s no kind of tracking magic or curse on you. And if that’s all he does, that’s alright.”

Anna nodded, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes, looking down at the ground instead, and he didn’t know whether to believe her. Either way, it was best to remove the bandage quickly. He nodded back to her and called into the tent for Mukzod’s permission to enter.

#d&d whump #past abuse tw #past slavery tw #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #might make a masterpost and a family tree/character list #bc at this point that seems useful #i knew he had 2 nieces and 2 nephews but i did not know djaana's oldest was gonna be a doctor #what a nice surprise #dumul is an extremely good boy #also the cousins are 3 days apart so people were calling them 'the twins' even before her parents died and haven't exactly stopped #no one will ever challenge gozukk to take over leadership because he is a force to be reckoned with in battle #but does he secretly just want to toss his sister's baby in the air and make her giggle forever? maybe #his niblings keep growing up on him and it's tragic

[nashibirne]

Against all odds - 2.4

Thanks for your likes, rebloggs and comments on the last part. I really appreciate this! Here’s the next part.

Against all odds - 2.4

Part 2.1 Part 2.2 Part 2.3

Henry Cavill x MC Warnings: none (only: no beta...so maybe...bad grammar, bad english) Summary: Anna admits she’s in love with Henry

Enjoy!

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

Only a few days later she found herself snuggled up in a wing chair besides the fireplace in the grand library at Brankhurst Castle, sipping her tea from delicate china.  Milton was sitting face to face, eating his third cucumber sandwich.

"It's so good to see you again. Almost two years has been way too long."

"Absolutely. You should have come visit us in Germany."

"Yes. I know. But I've been so busy...you know what it's like, angel."

"Will you ever stop calling me that?" Anna rolled her eyes.

"Well, as far as I remember, you were the one who made everybody call you angel because you had read that book about a beautiful princess with that very name. You were so stubborn you simply didn't react to Anna anymore."

"I was eight back then."

"Old habits are hard to change." He shrugged laughing.

She had to smile because Milton was completely right. She remembered very well how everyone was so annoyed by her insistence. Especially her parents, who just wanted to have relaxing Christmas holidays at Braxton Castle with their family and friends, far away from the enormous amount of work that awaited them at home in Germany with the piano making workshop that her father's family ran in the third generation.

The atmosphere was tense anyway because her grandparents had never completely accepted their daughter's husband.  They had hoped for a noble son-in-law of course. A marriage within their social class. But it wasn't meant to be. The posh daughter of an old noble family went to Germany to work as a pianist and after only a few weeks she fell in love with the young man who retuned her piano. A decent man, hard working and devoted to their daughter, but he was only an ordinary craftsman. A master craftsman, but still. So it had always been a walk on thin ice when her dad and her grandparents were together for more than a few hours. Therefore her parent's nerves had been quite weak anyway when she decided to change her name from Anna to Angel. To everyone's big relief this phase only lastet a few weeks.

"If you really don't like it I will never call you angel again, of course. I don't want to annoy you." Milton interrupted her thoughts.

"Nevermind. To be honest, coming from you I like it."

"Very Good." Milton gave her a warm smile. "So how's is everything going at home. You're uncle's all right? I call him from time to time and he always says he's fine, but Thomas told me he had some problems with his heart."

"Yes, but he's fine again. He was in hospital for a few days and got a stent."

"I'm glad to hear that. I was a little worried when Thomas told me."

"That's sweet, but he's really doing great again. He's so happy to help Henry with planning the rebuilding of his house."

"Old Johnson's farm, isn't it. He sold it to him half a year ago?"

"Exactly. Henry wants to rebuild the outbuildings and the stables. So uncle George's advice as architect and engineer is much appreciated. That gives him something to do. And a busy uncle George is a happy uncle George."

"So why does an a-lister like Henry Cavill move from London to the middle of nowhere?"

"He wanted a fresh start, after the breakup with his girlfriend. So he decided to go back to the roots and got an engagement at the Royal Shakespeare Company. That's why he wanted to move near Stratford-upon-avon plus he was looking for a house with enough space and ground for his horses. So Johnson's farm was perfect for him."

"I see. And what's he like?"

"He's nice"

"Nice? That's all?"

"Yeah. What more can I say?"

"I don't know. You and him walk the dogs together and after almost three months you don't have to say anything more about him but he's nice? Is he that boring?"

"No! Not a bit. He's incredibly funny. And very smart. Modest and friendly and always willing to help. He loves his animals so much and his devotion to his work is inspiring. He's a big kid with a big heart but he's a reasonable man too. Always a gentleman, but with a cheeky touch. He's a great storyteller and a sensitive listener, a thinker with a melancholy side but an energetic doer, too. Tenacious and ambitious but never inconsidered.....um...yes." Anna cleared her throat knowing that this had escalated quickly.

"Wow... that's a little more than nice." Milton put on a wolfish grin. "You and him...is that a thing?"

"No!" Anna was aware that her answer came a little too quick. "Of course not. What a funny question." she frowned.

"My bad...of course it's completely unlikely that you're attracted by such a doofus." "Oh shut up, Milton." "You're in love with him. Come on. Spill it."

Anna sighed. "God, yes. I am. Helplessly in love with Henry Cavill." She buried her face in her hands. It was a relief to admit it and a little embarassing too.

"Hey" Milton said gently, stroking her forearm a few times. "Why so desperate? He doesn't feel the same?"

"I really don't have a clue. It's a little complicated."

"Why don't you tell me everything so agony aunt Milton can help you out of your misery."

"I don't know where to start."

"At the beginning, angel."

"All right."

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

Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it.

Next part ist coming soon. Then you will learn how Henry and Anna have met for the first time.

taglist: @hell1129-blog

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #friends to lovers #friends to lovers fan fic #romance

[vampiregirl1797]

Desiderium

For My Masterlist, Click Here

 GIF not mine.

 Minor smut, 18+ only.

 Soulmates had always been somewhat of a fairytale when I was a little girl. I used to snuggle underneath my pale blue comforter that was decorated with daises—it had been something my father had made when my mother told him she was pregnant with me— being snuggled up underneath it when my mother used to narrate how she discovered my father was her soulmate always made the story that much more magical to me. Why? Because your soulmates first words to you would be imprinted onto your skin, almost like a tattoo, but apparently much more painful. Because the words weren’t just engrained onto your skin, but burned onto your soul.

 The first thing my father said to my mother was ‘What’cha doin’ down there darlin’?’ because she had been kneeling at the edge of the grass on her parent’s property, staring longingly at the field that stretched out somewhat endlessly towards the horizon. Daisies blossomed out across the field along with wildflowers. She longed to climb the fence that separated her from the only sight in her life that bought her some semblance of peace, and away from the societal expectations her mother and father were placing on her shoulders. Marrying well, having children, being the perfect wife. Her parents weren’t even soulmates. They had married for prestige and wealth over true love. My mother hadn’t wanted that, but alas they refused to listen. She sighed in response to his question and said, ‘watching the daisies sway with the breeze.’ After a beat, both of them were screaming in pain as the words appeared; my mothers on her chest over her heart, and my fathers along his inner arm, starting at his wrist and falling just short of his inner elbow. They had ran away the next day, and lived happily ever after.

At least that’s how my mother told it to the child version of me. I was absolutely fascinated by the concept of the universe creating someone who was completely perfect for you in every sense of the word. Perhaps my interest was aided by having parents who were soulmates, some of the kids in my classes at school didn’t, and therefore didn’t see what I saw. I couldn’t dispute that you didn’t have to be soulmates to love someone. But young me saw the way my mother and father looked at each other, how they shared a myriad of looks, ranging from soft, to sad, to angry. How they seemed to know what the other needed without a word needing to be said. How they seemed to only be completely content when they were touching in someway, whether it was holding hands or cuddling together. It was a kind of love I didn’t see anywhere else, and I hadn’t seen except in other soulmates throughout my life. Even before knowing a couple, you could tell by observing their behaviour, whether they were destined or not. Some were content to never meet their soulmate, while others longed desperately to find their other half.  

 But as I grew and lost my parents to a house fire at the age of eleven, my desire and hope started to fade. How could I long for love when I knew how much it hurt when you lost them? Growing up in the foster care system made it easy to keep people at arms length, including the families I was placed with. At least until I turned seventeen and Gerard, one of the foster parents in the new family I’d been paired with, had hit his wife. I hadn’t even thought, moving faster than I thought I ever could, I put myself between them. And when I’d held my hand up somewhat defensively, he’d gone flying into the wall behind him, the force enough to knock him out cold. I had stared at my hand in confusion and when Amy, the woman I’d been about to take a punch for had practically shoved my out of the door while screaming that ‘freaks weren’t allowed in this house’, a sense of dread ran through my veins.

 Freak.

 I was a freak.

 It was then that my desire for a soulmate dissipated completely, and over time my insecurities extended to everything. My body. My laugh. My intelligence. Everything. I grew to hate myself, and I knew that if I couldn’t love me, how could I expect someone else to love me? Even someone who was supposedly destined to be with me would see all of the flaws that I did. It was hopeless.

 What I didn’t know was that not only would my life change for the better in the following years, but also I would be introduced to my soulmate whether I wanted to be or not. Fate was funny that way.

 Five years later.

 ‘Good morning sunshine!’ Steve Rogers practically yelled at me as I shuffled into the kitchen.

 I simply groaned in response, my footsteps towards the coffee maker becoming more insistent when I caught a waft of the java goodness. I pulled out my own personal mug—it was absolutely ginormous and covered in cartoon Captain Americas wearing the old uniform Steve had worn before the ice. Tony had given it to me for a gag gift a few years ago at Christmas and I’d laughed harder than I had in a long time when I opened it. That had made Steve’s embarrassment cool somewhat, and I think that was why the mug hadn’t ended up ‘accidentally’ smashed afterwards. That being said, big, blonde and broody always, very dramatically, rolled his eyes when he saw it and it always made me chuckle and wink at him as I sipped my hot beautiful beverage.

 After I’d poured the mug as close to the rim as I dared, I added three sugars and practically inhaled half before finally taking a look around to see who else was up. The tower had become home to me when Tony had bought me here just after I’d turned eighteen. I’d been on the streets for almost a year at that point, and after I’d intercepted someone trying to fire a bomb at Iron man by using my magic, and redirecting it to the one who’d fired it, I’d been dubbed an unofficial avenger. The snarky genius had taken me under his wing, he hadn’t pushed me for anything, for company, for information, he hadn’t put pressure on me to use my powers for his team. He’d simply been there, even when I didn’t know I needed him. Eventually, I’d warmed up to him and started to trust him with stories of my parents, about what happened to them, about the foster families and eventually, how I’d ended up homeless. His eyes had darkened with rage at that story and he’d scooped me up into a hug and assured me that I wasn’t a freak, that I was special and that was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I’d basically collapsed into his arms after that, my tears cascading down my cheeks after being held back so long by the numbing dam that Tony had managed to shatter.

 It still took me a while to warm up to new people, and my insecurities were still there concerning soulmates, but I had a home and a family now. Which was more than I ever could have asked for after losing my parents all those years ago.

 ‘Morning kiddo!’ Tony grinned and gave a little wave from where he was, which was currently on Steve’s lap as the super soldier gently ran his fingers through my dad’s hair.

 That was another thing—I didn’t know when Tony had started to become dad to me, but he had. I hadn’t said it to him yet, mainly because I didn’t know how he would react, I didn’t want him to feel like I was forcing a responsibility onto him that he didn’t want or ask for. So I kept it to myself.

 ‘Morning,’ I smiled, my mood much brighter after I’d basically inhaled half of my cup.

 My eyes filtered over to the only other person who was up at this time and a huge grin split across my face when I realised whom it was. My cup was placed aside and I ran and basically launched myself onto the sofa where the giant god of thunder was sitting. He’d become an uncle to me over the years, and when he returned from Asgard it never failed to make me happy.

 ‘Thor! When did you get here?’ I yelled in excitement, my arms winding around his neck as I hugged him hard. It had to have been six months since I saw him last.

 ‘Not too long ago, little one.’ Thor chuckled, settling me onto his lap and affectionately running his hand through my hair.

 ‘I hope you’re staying longer this time.’ I gave him a look because the last time he’d dropped in, he’d only stayed for a few days.

 ‘I will be here for at least a week.’ He promised.

 Appeased by his words I dropped my head to his shoulder and closed my eyes and took a moment to inhale his scent of rain and power (which shouldn’t be a kind of smell, but if anyone was going to smell of power it was going to be a god), and sighed happily as it soothed the part of me that always acted up whenever someone I cared about was gone. It was like a thread around my heart that burned enough to be uncomfortable, but not painful. My mother and father’s thread always burned, but that was okay. It reminded me how lucky I had been to have them in my life; there were many who couldn’t say the same.

 Now that Thor and I were silent across from my Dad and Steve, I found myself smiling again when their conversation drifted over to us.

 ‘I told ya.’ Steve sounded smug.

��‘Well if Thor hadn’t been here, I’m sure she would have come to us for morning snuggles like usual. She hadn’t seen him in like six months, it makes sense.’ Dad snarked back, and when I glanced over I could see him handing Steve a crumpled note.

 I chuckled, but otherwise didn’t comment, knowing their relationship was unique in the way only soulmates could be, and it worked for them. It was obvious how much they loved and adored one another, the same way my parents had. Thor’s hand moved gently up and down my spine and I was helpless to stop my eyes from fluttering shut, as I drifted into a content sleep.

 //

 ‘Shh you’ll wake her!’

 ‘It’s not fair! We’ve all missed good ole’ thunder too! We shouldn’t have to forgo cuddles just because she fell asleep on him!’

 ‘Don’t be such a child, you know how she gets when one of us are away.’

 The voice softened, ‘right. Sometimes I forget.’

 I stirred, blinking against the light that was filtering in through the floor to ceiling windows that outlined the living room. I was a little disorientated, but I settled when I remembered I was with Thor, a glance over to the loveseat told me that my dad and Steve must have left at some point. And when I focused I realised Clint and Tasha were the ones arguing not too quietly in the kitchen. With a fond shake of my head I carefully manoeuvred myself off the god’s lap and used my powers to lay him down so he would be more comfortable. If he’d only landed this morning then he would need a lot more sleep. After placing a blanket over him and making sure his head was supported with a pillow, I kissed his forehead and walked up to the deadly red head and sassy Hawkeye.

 ‘Is it still morning?’ I asked sheepishly.

 ‘Yes, honey. It’s about ten thirty.’ Tasha smiled warmly, like she always did when she greeted me.

 I nodded through a yawn and kissed her cheek and Clint’s before asking, ‘where’s Tony?’

 ‘Down in the lab. Steve went out for a run with Sam so he thought he’d tinker on the birthday present he got for him.’ Tasha grinned, her eyes sparkling knowingly.

 ‘Okay.’ I frowned, knowing that probably meant it was something sexual which I absolutely did not need to know about.

 After I refilled my coffee mug with some fresh warm java, I left the two spies with a parting kiss to the cheek and a promise to Tasha to meet her in the gym for some sparring at noon.

 ‘JARVIS can you let Tony know I’m coming down to the lab please? Tasha’s look upstairs tells me that I don’t wanna know what he’s doing down there for Steve, so I’d like for him to have some time to put away what ever he’s making for sexy times with his husband.’ I practically shuddered at the thought. Just thinking of your parents ever having sense was just… wrong.

 ‘Of course Y/N.’

 ‘Thank you, JARVIS.’ I smiled, knowing the Al couldn’t see me but I had a soft spot for the computer nonetheless.

 By the time I’d made it downstairs, Dad was hunched over and tinkering with something that just looked like a bunch of metal to me, so I felt safe going in and taking the empty stool next to him.

 ‘Morning.’ I mumbled kissing his cheek and wrapping my arm around his waist, ‘whatcha working on?’

 He kissed my cheek and dropped what he’d been working on, before twisting his stool so he could wrap both arms around me. I smiled a little and placed my mug down before reciprocating the gesture.

 ‘Nothing really, Sherbet.’ He replied softly, the nickname one I’d acquired after an embarrassing incident on the first Halloween I’d spent at the tower. I frowned when dad sighed deeply, something he only did when he was really upset about something. Usually it happened when Steve and he had fought. But things had seemed fine earlier, and I know Tasha would have mentioned an argument to me.

 ‘What’s wrong?’

 ‘Steve’s gotta leave for a little while.’ He sighed again but pulled back and started tinkering with whatever the hell he was making.

 ‘On a mission?’

 ‘No. You know how we’ve been working on bringing his friend Bucky home after Steve saw him a few months ago?’ I nodded and he continued, ‘well the software I created has picked him up in Russia, so Stevie is gonna go and get him and bring him home.’

 ‘You’re allowed not to be okay with that, you know.’ I took one of his hands in mine and squeezed it comfortingly, ‘I mean, I know you understand that he’s been reconditioned and controlled for so long and he had no idea what he was doing, or no choice in the things he did, but that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with him just coming to live here considering everything.’

 ‘I know I don’t have to be, but I am.’ He smiled, his eyes softening at my concern for him, ‘I’m a little upset over knowing that he killed my mom and dad, instead of believing they died in a car crash like I’d originally believed for so long. But like you said, he didn’t know what he was doing and I can’t hold that against him.’ He shook his head vehemently at the thought.

 ‘Then why do you seem so sad?’ I frowned, confused.

 ‘Because Stevie is gonna be gone for at least a week. That’s if things go well. It could be longer. Much longer.’ He sighed again, his brown eyes dimming, ‘I hate to be away from him while he runs, but being away for that long. It hurts.’

 ‘It does?’ I asked tentatively. My mom and dad never had to separate for such a long time, so I didn’t know anything about the parting being painful.

 He nodded and squeezed my hand in assurance, ‘it’s hard to explain, but it kind of feels like he takes a part of me with him, and the part of me that’s tethered to him is just reaching out to try and pull him back.’

 ‘That’s awful. I’m sorry.’ I murmured, my heart squeezing at the thought of someone I loved being in pain.

 ‘It’s okay, Sherbet. It’s all worth it, trust me.’ He winked, and just like that we fell into a comfortable silence.

 I sipped on my coffee and watched him work; still having no idea what he was trying to build. Occasionally one of us would pipe up with a question and a comment and we’d chat for a little while before falling into the quiet again. At around eleven I ventured upstairs and after showering and getting dressed for a workout, I went to the kitchen and made my dad a ham and mustard sandwich. I also grabbed a bag of lightly salted chips and a bottle of water. After dropping them off at the lab with strict orders for him to eat and drink something that wasn’t coffee, I left for my workout with Tasha. On my way I couldn’t help but wonder about something I hadn’t let myself properly wonder about for years. I briefly let myself think about what I would like to be loved the way that my dad and Steve loved each other. The way that Tasha and Clint, Thor and Bruce and Pepper and Sam loved each other. For a moment I remembered why I’d been overcome with the romantic idea of finding the perfect person, but that came to a screeching halt when I caught my reflection in the mirrors that lined the back of the gym. I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t funny. I wasn’t interesting. I was disgusting. I didn’t deserve a soulmate.

 With that reminder, I cleared my throat and met Tasha in the ring with a forced smile, ready to focus on something that didn’t make my heart drop to my stomach.

 //

 It took Steve three weeks to come home. One week was spent tracking the other super soldier down, and the other two was spent in Asgard with Thor after the god assured Steve that the healers on his planet could remove the conditioning put in place by Hydra and remove the Winter Soldier completely. At least, remove the existence of the other personality that had been forced into his brain. The memories however would remain, and I only hoped that the memories of who he was before helped remind him of who he was, and not who he was forced to be. I couldn’t imagine what he would be going through, and my heart squeezed in sympathy for Steve’s best friend.

 The whole time Steve was gone was spent sparring, practicing my powers, and looking after my dad. Whether that was making sure he ate three meals a day, or forcing him to go to bed and refusing to let him stay in the lab between the hours of 11pm and 7am to assure he wouldn’t come back (JARVIS helped with that), I looked out for him. Because it was obvious how lost he was without Steve, we were all missing the Captain but of course, no one missed him like my dad.

 He finally returned at 12:30am exactly three weeks and one day after he left. I had been asleep on the couch at the time, and the sound of the elevator sliding open had stirred me awake. Once I’d registered who it was I took off in a full sprint and launched myself at him. He caught me with a laugh and just hugged me tight, knowing I needed a moment to absorb that he was back. I inhaled and the scent of soap and roses made me relax contentedly.

 ‘I missed you.’ I mumbled pulling back enough to kiss his cheek before resting my head back onto his shoulder.

 ‘I know, kiddo.’ He stroked my hair and I felt myself dozing again, helpless at resisting sleep when I felt so safe.

 //

 I managed to sleep until 6am. I’ll be honest I could have cried when I rolled over and saw the red numbers mocking me, but I knew that now I’d opened my eyes I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. With a resigned sigh I rolled out of bed and after I pulled on my unicorn slippers and grey fluffy robe, I made my way to the kitchen. The smell of coffee bought a smile to my face as I immediately headed for my mug to pour myself a cup of the stimulant to get my brain working.

 Usually at this time, I could count on Sam, Steve and Tony to be up. The former two usually returning from their run, and the latter usually rolled out of bed in time to greet his husband. But I wasn’t surprised to be greeted by an empty living room. Dad and Steve would take the time to catch up, and Sam probably wouldn’t have gone for a run without the super soldier there to wake him up. With no one to cuddle, I finished my cup of coffee with a sigh and decided to go for a run. It was better than sitting around and doing nothing. I wondered if Sam would appreciate me waking him up to go with me…

 //

 ‘If this is your way of apologising for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn, then I forgive you.’ Sam murmured around a mouthful of pancakes.

 ‘Oh thank Thor, I never would’ve survived without your forgiveness.’ I teased from the stove—I’d already eaten mine, and we were nearing 8am now, which meant the rest of the team would be waking up soon, so I was making enough to feed everyone.

 ‘Morning Cap.’ My head snapped up to see Steve walking into the kitchen, dad shuffling a few feet behind him. I smiled when I saw that they were holding hands, and with Tony rubbing at his sleepy eyes, it was easy to deduce that it was only the super soldier’s guidance that was leading him forward.

 ‘Morning!’ I said cheerfully, placing the frying pan I’d now finished using into the sink and leaping into his arms. His free hand came to my back to hold me in place and I smiled wider when I noticed he hadn’t let dad go to hold me.

 ‘Morning Pumpkin.’ Steve chuckled and kissed my hair, ‘I see you dragged Sam out for a run.’

 I glanced over my shoulder to see Sam falling asleep on the table, his head resting on his now empty plate.

 ‘I did. Woke up early and I didn’t wanna go alone.’ I explained, shaking my head fondly at the Falcon before turning back to the super soldier, ‘I’m glad you’re home.’

 ‘Me too, kiddo.’ Steve kissed my forehead and placed me gently on the floor, where I then moved to hug my dad.

 ‘Where’s your friend? I don’t remember seeing him last night.’ I commented as I plated up enough food to feed them both.

 ‘He’s still sleeping. He’s been slipping a lot since they removed the conditioning.’ The blonde explained, pulling out a chair and placing Tony onto his lap.

 ‘That’s not surprising, it must have taken a huge emotional toll on him.’ I said, placing two plates in front of them both and then coming back with a mug of coffee for dad and some orange juice for pop.

 ‘Thanks honey.’ Dad and Pop said together.

 ‘You’re welcome.’ I smiled, sipping from my fresh cuppa Joe.

 It was much later that Steve’s friend made an appearance. At around noon as Bruce and I were dishing up our infamous homemade pasta dish to feed the whole team, he made his way into the living area, looking sleepy and uncertain. No one aside from me seemed to notice him lurking at the door, looking in at everyone settled at various points throughout the room: Steve and Tony were cuddled up on the love seat, Thor was chatting with Sam on the sofa, Tasha was sat on Clint’s lap at the dining table as they spoke in sign language and Bruce and I were putting the last touches on the meal without having to verbally communicate because we’d done it so many times. It hurt my heart to see him so lost and uncertain so when Bruce moved to place the two huge pots of pasta in the centre of the dining room table, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and slowly approached the soldier. As I approached, his attention snapped to me and the emotion in his stunningly blue eyes made me want to hug him and assure him that everything was going to be okay. I didn’t of course, as I didn’t know how he would react. Instead I handed him the beverage I was holding and placed my hand on his arm, ignoring his astonishment when I didn’t cringe away at the feeling of metal, and led him encouragingly to the seat next to Steve, knowing that was where he would be most comfortable.

 By then, the rest of the team was sat around the table, Thor sitting next to Bruce, the god placing a kiss to his love’s cheek as a thanks for the meal and smiling softly when the scientist blushed. Tasha had shuffled into her own seat, but she and Clint were still holding hands and had their chairs close enough together that their legs were pressed together. Sam was sitting on the other side of Thor, trying not to glance at the elevator too often as he waited for the appearance of Pepper, the strawberry blonde would take the empty seat next to him when she arrived, which was also on the other side of Steve’s friend. I sat in my usual seat after I’d bought the garlic bread over, which was on the other side of my dad. Once everyone was seated—Pepper arrived after five minutes and settled in after kissing the Falcon in greeting—we all dug into the food.

 Conversation flowed easily, as it always did, though I preferred to sit, listen and observe. I did chime in occasionally, but more often than not, I remained silent. Though, I wasn’t the only one—I didn’t hear Pop’s friend speak a single word throughout the meal, although he did eat three bowls of pasta, half a stick of garlic bread and he drank the bottle of water I gave him as well as the other two Pop had replaced for him. There was nothing wrong with being quiet, but I had a feeling that he wasn’t aware of the conversation happening around him at all. His eyes seemed unfocused as if he were somewhere else, and I found myself overcome with the desire to bring him out of it, to offer him something else to focus on, but I held back. I knew better than anyone that sometimes you just needed to work through things on your own, and being pushed only made you close up more. It had taken me years to open up enough to care about anyone again and to let anyone care about me. So I refused to rush his process, besides I didn’t know him, the one better suited for looking out for the mysterious soldier was Pop’s—he knew him best.

 //

 After about six months Steve’s friend seemed to settle into the tower, at least to a point. He ran with Steve and Sam in the mornings, ate breakfast with the team, worked out with Thor or Pop’s, hung out in the lab with Tony and Bruce, and he ate dinner with us every night too. He seemed to be developing friendships with everyone in the team, but he was of course most comfortable with Pop and Dad. I knew for a fact that Dad telling him that he didn’t blame him for killing his parents was a huge relief for the soldier. Pop had told me he’d fell to his knees in relief and Dad had fallen right with him, hugging him close until he was ready to get up. That had been a turning point in their relationship, and now more often than not if the super soldier was anywhere, he’d be with either of my parents.

 It was a relief to see him smiling, well it wasn’t so much of a smile, more of an upturn of his lips, but it was nice to see that paired with his brilliant blue eyes sparkling with mirth instead of the uncertainty that had shone in them when he’d joined us all those months ago. He teased Pop’s constantly, and developed a kindred banter with Sam that both insisted was an arch nemesis relationship, but we all knew the truth. He always had a smile for everyone and those he wasn’t comfortable with, he was polite.

 The only member of the team that he didn’t seem to get close to was me. I couldn’t really place all the blame on him—I avoided him as much as he seemed to avoid me. It was ridiculous really, but every time he was near me I just couldn’t concentrate on anything. My mind went blank and my heart rate picked up, so to avoid what would most likely be beyond embarrassing interactions that I would never hear the end of from the team, I evaded him. I was sure he wasn’t eluding me for the same reasons, but I hadn’t really given it much thought. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone had even noticed that we’d never even spoken a word to each other in the past six months, and that was perfectly fine with me. Why you ask? Because if he spoke directly to me in that deep, Brooklyn accented voice, I might just die of a cardiac arrest. So this was the way it had to be for now, I was sure my apparent crush would go away at some point, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

 ‘Happy Christmas Eve!’ I grinned as I walked into the common area, yelling the greeting to everyone where they were settled in to watch a film in the living room.

 ‘Happy Christmas Eve!’ Dad responded with as much enthusiasm, Pop shaking his head fondly at his husband.

 ‘Come on Pumpkin, we’re just about to start watching a movie.’ Pop’s said and I made my way to slide underneath Pop’s right arm while Dad was curled up to his left.

 ‘I love this movie.’ I mumbled as the opening scenes of Home Alone 2 started playing on the T.V.

 ‘We know you do, ya filthy animal.’ Clint teased, though everyone erupted into laughter when a cushion hit him in the face with an oomph with a wave of my hand.

 I laughed with everyone else, but I couldn’t help my gaze from lingering on the other super soldier sat on one of the armchairs to the left of me. His eyes were sparkling in amusement and the tension that had been present when he’d first arrived at the tower was nowhere to be seen. His hair was pulled back in a bun, which helped to show off his face, and the grey Henley he was wearing stretched wonderfully across his arms and his abdomen. He was gorgeous of course, but he also looked calm and relaxed and it was beautiful. I forced myself to look away before he or anyone caught me staring and focused on the movie.

 I sunk further in to Pop’s side, the warmth that surrounded me making me sleepy and content. I remember reaching out for Dad’s hand as Kevin McAllister arrived at Duncan’s Toy Chest, and then I fell into the darkness.

 //

 I awoke to voices around me, and it took me a moment to recognise who was speaking and what was going on. The first thing I registered was that I was being lifted and held by someone who was very warm. I couldn’t help the happy hum that fell from my lips as I snuggled closer and mumbled something unintelligible. I felt whoever was holding me chuckle lightly and a small smile settled on my face at the sound. I felt myself falling back into the darkness but before I could surrender completely, the talking started again.

 ‘Careful you don’t drop her.’ That was Pop’s voice, which was confusing because if he wasn’t the one holding me, who was?

 ‘Watch it, punk, I’m easily twice as strong as you, and I would never drop her.’ He replied softly, but the soft rumble underneath my ear assured me that he was the one holding me, as did the coolness emanating from his metallic arm.

 If I had been more conscious I probably would have frozen and fully woken up at that moment. But for whatever reason, I settled further into him and further into sleep. I dreamt about the ocean, rolling in and crashing against the sand. The moonlight reflected on the waves and lit up the whole area enough that I could see someone standing close enough to the tide that the water brushed over his toes. I walked towards him, apparently my subconscious recognised him, and just as I reached out my hand to entwine with his—he faded away into the night air.

 When I woke up the next day, I didn’t remember the dream, but I did feel the ache in my heart as if something was slipping away from me.

 //

 My eyes snapped open at six am on the dot on Christmas Day, and after asking JARVIS who was awake in the tower, I practically sprinted from the bedroom to Tony and Steve’s room. I had a cardboard box about the size of an A4 piece of paper tucked under my arm—it was wrapped of course—and it was my present for the two men who I’d come to think of as my parental figures. I was a little nervous about giving it to them, so I thought it best to do it now, before anyone else was around. After a quick knock on their door and pausing for five seconds to give them time to move from any compromising positions, I entered the room.

 ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!’ I screeched and launched myself at the foot of the bed, careful not to ruin the present I’d bought.

 ‘Merry Christmas Pumpkin,’ Pop’s said with a smile and a ruffle of my hair.

 I swatted him away but gave them both a hug, before settling in between them, but facing them rather than being in the middle against the headboard like they were sitting. I crossed my legs and bit my lip nervously. This present… it was big.

 ‘What’s wrong honey?’ Dad’s voice was gentle and he shuffled forward enough to squeeze my hand comfortingly.

 ‘I have a present for you both. Well I have more for you under the tree, but this one is for the both of you and I wanted to give it to you in private because it’s well… it’s serious.’ I explained, barely remembering to breathe as I rushed to get my words out, ‘I want you to know that you can say no, I put this together because I want you both to know how much you mean to me.’

 Pop’s and Dad looked a mixture of confused and soft as the super soldier took the present from me, tearing away the paper for my dad to gently remove the lid. I held my breath when I saw them stare at the top paper in shock and I had to force myself not to start rambling an explanation and an assurance that they didn’t have to sign them. But the rational side of me told me that this was a lot to process and silence didn’t have to be a bad thing.

 ‘Is this real?’ Pop’s asked, his eyes were glassed over with tears and I felt my own reciprocate as I replied, ‘yes. It’s real. I had Pepper help me draw them up.’

 ‘Honey,’ Dad’s voice was clogged with emotion and I had to hold back a sob at the love I could see shining in both pairs of eyes.

 ‘I understand if you don’t want to. It’s a lot of responsibility, I know, but I’ve come to see you both as my dad’s and how much I love you won’t change if you decide you don’t want to sign.’ I picked at an imaginary piece of lint on the comforter, too scared to meet their eyes.

 ‘Pumpkin, we would be honoured to officially adopt you.’ Pop’s assured me, scooping me up and placing me in between them so they could both hug me.

 ‘Of course we would.’ Dad agreed, kissing my temple.

 ‘I love you both so much.’ I murmured quietly, tears streaming down my face as my body fought for an outlet for all of the emotions that were running through me, ‘I don’t say it enough, but I do.’

 ‘We love you too, honey.’ Dad and Pop’s squeezed me tighter and for a long time we just stayed there, in a cocoon of love as we all cried tears of happiness and gratitude for being blessed with this moment, and this relationship of fathers and daughter.

 //

 Everyone else woke up at around ten, all sluggishly making their way to the kitchen where Pops and I were preparing breakfast while Dad sat on the counter, occasionally tasting some bacon or pancake batter and stealing kisses from his husband.

 ‘Merry Christmas beautiful people.’ I grinned, saluting them with my glass of orange juice and champagne.

 ‘Ugh oh.’ Clint said deadpan, ‘how many of those has she had?’

 ‘Only two,’ I pouted, not knowing that Pops was holding up five fingers behind me.

 Everyone chuckled but took their seats at the dining table anyway. I plopped myself rather ungracefully on Bruce’s lap after Dad and Pops waved me away when I offered to bring in the food. Bruce just chuckled and placed a hand on my waist to avoid me falling, and Thor lifted my feet and placed them on his lap.

 ‘Do you know, I really think that you’re adorable, you know like cuddly?’ I said, taking a sip and not noticing everyone else watching with expressions of amusement and fondness, ‘but also I think that the Hulk is pretty too.’

 ‘What?’ Bruce squeaked and I let out a rather un-ladylike whelp when he nearly dropped me in his surprise, but thankfully he caught me in time.

 ‘It’s true! I haven’t told you before because I didn’t wanna make you upset or uncomfortable but I think the Hulk is pretty.’ I said, taking another sip of my drink, I lowered my voice to a whisper that everyone could still definitely hear, ‘I think it’s because he’s green and that reminds me of nature, which is also really pretty.’

 A round of chuckles erupted around the table but it was the smell of bacon that caught my interest. I placed my drink onto the table and grabbed a couple of rashers and munched on them happily. I offered some to the still shocked Bruce, but he shook his head politely.

 ‘I can’t believe she’s this drunk on five glasses. They’re only tiny flutes and mostly orange juice!’ The hunky super soldier exclaimed to no one in particular, his eyes sparkling in amusement. I hid my blush behind a handful of strawberries. Damn super soldier looking like an Adonis god and making my heart beat out of my chest.

 ‘What did you just say, honey?’ Dad’s eyes were sparkling wickedly and I frowned in confusion as I tried to remember what I said last.

 ‘Hulk is pretty?’ I offered.

 ‘No, no.’ he waved his hand, looking over to Sexy Bun next to Pops, ‘after that.’

 ‘Dad, I didn’t say anything after that.’ I chuckled taking another sip of my drink, ‘and I thought Pops was supposed to be the one with bad hearing.’

 The table went silent in that moment, but I dipped my strawberry into my cream and munched with a satisfied hum.

 ‘What did she just—?’ Tasha started but cut off at the sudden emotion that clogged her throat at the look on Steve and Tony’s faces. They both looked absolutely… honoured and grateful. There was no other way to describe it.

 ‘I’m confused… you have a daughter?’ Sexy Bun was looking at Steve in confusion.

 I grinned big and happily exclaimed, ‘that’s me!’

 ‘Yes it is, honey.’ Dad chuckled fondly, and with all the grace in the world, I managed to lift myself up and over the table to plop myself in pops’ lap. I giggled at the feeling of flying as Dad lifted my feet onto his lap, both of them smiling at me fondly.

 ‘That’s our daughter.’ Pops kissed my forehead.

 ‘The lightweight.’ Dad agreed and laughed at my pout.

 ‘I’m not a lightweight.’ I mumbled around a bite of pancake.

 ‘Of course you aren’t little one.’ Thor’s voice rumbled in amusement and affection, while everyone else murmured their agreement.

 //

 Later on that night after all the presents had been opened and the left overs from Christmas dinner had been consumed, we all settled into the common room, each of us doing different things. Dad was showing Pops how to use the new phone I’d gifted him; the super soldier was completely overwhelmed and the billionaire was shifting between teasing his husband and patiently explaining each function to him. Bruce was sitting on Thor’s lap, his head on the demi-god’s shoulder as he snored softly. The God of thunder was quietly talking to Pepper, the red head in a similar predicament as Sam’s head was on her lap, him having been asleep for as long as the scientist. Both Thor and Pepper alternated between their conversation and looking down at their significant others in complete adoration. Clint and Tasha had retired about five minutes prior, the archer practically carrying the assassin to their bedroom after the redhead mentioned another present she wanted to give him in private. I was sat on the loveseat with Bucky, both of us just quietly observing everyone. I couldn’t tell you how we’d ended up on the same seat, sat so close that our upper thighs were pressed solidly against each other’s, but here we were. It should have been awkward, seeing as I’d never even spoke to the man, but it wasn’t. For the first time his presence wasn’t making my heart rate erratic, my palms weren’t sweating and I wasn’t struggling for words. I was completely calm, but it was a different level of calmness that I’d never felt around anyone else before, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I didn’t want to.

 ‘This has to be my favourite day of the year, every year.’ I mused, looking up at Bucky so he would know I was talking to him.

 I saw the surprise in his eyes when they met mine, and my heart skipped a beat at meeting his stare.

 He cleared his throat before he replied, somewhat shyly, ‘after everything that happened when I fell, I never believed I’d have the opportunity to be surrounded by family again, especially at Christmas. So I know exactly what you mean, the time of year amplifies the love.’

 We shared a soft smile and I was just about to ask him a question about his Christmas’ before the war when my chest felt like it was burning. A whimper of pain fell from my lips, and without even thinking about it I lifted up my pyjama top and stared at the words that were now inked to the left of my chest in shock, disbelief and… relief. I jolted in surprise when Bucky’s metal hand caressed the words with such tenderness that I felt my eyes sheen over with tears as I looked up to him. He was staring at my soulmate mark with such gratitude, adoration and shock that I couldn’t help but mirror when I caught my mark on the forearm of his flesh. My fingers reached out without my permission and traced the letters, revelling in the spark that shot up my arm, in the warmth of his skin and the way the letters were bumpy against his flesh.

 My eyes met his again when he gently lowered my top and took my hands in his. I held on tightly, overwhelmed with what had happened. I never thought I’d meet my soulmate, and even after I’d convinced myself that I didn’t deserve someone, a small part of me had always hoped. Hoped that I’d find someone who would love me the same way my mother loved my father. The same way my dads loved each other. I just never believed it would happen, and I hadn’t let myself indulge in the idea since my parents had passed when I was a child. But now, I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t deny the affection, adoration and love that I felt for the man in front of me. I couldn’t deny the intensity; I couldn’t deny the desire to solidify our bond, to make our hearts one for always.

 ‘I lost hope that I would find you years ago.’ Bucky admitted in a whisper, his metal hand wiping away the tears that fell down my cheeks.

 ‘Me too.’ I told him, mirroring his volume. By some miracle, no one had taken notice of our conversation and I wasn’t about to be the reason that our bubble got burst.

 ‘I knew it was you.’ His fingers ran through my hair and he smiled as my eyes fluttered at his touch.

 ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

 ‘Because you seemed wary of me, I didn’t want to push it and make you more skittish around me, especially if I was wrong.’ He explained, his hands returning to holding mine.

 ‘I wasn’t afraid of you, if that’s what you were thinking. I wanted to talk to you, it’s just every time I tried, I couldn’t get any words out and eventually I stopped trying because I didn’t want you to think I was a stuttering idiot incapable of speaking to you.’ I blushed but felt my eyes soften at the sound of his chuckle and the mirth in his beautiful eyes.

 ‘Oh, doll, I would never think that,’ he promised, his eyes trailing over my face and darkening when they reached my lips. They started to tingle under the attention and it took every ounce of will I held not to lean forward right there. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I had a feeling if we started, we wouldn’t stop until the bond was solidified and I didn’t want to do that in the presence of my family.

 ‘We should…’ I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence, but it didn’t matter he knew what I meant anyway.

 ‘Yes we should, sugar.’ He winked, the dilation of his pupils made my knees weak, ‘I’ll go first and you follow in a few minutes.’ He squeezed my hand and after a wave and shout of ‘goodnight’ to the room, he was gone.

 It felt like time was mocking me and purposefully ticking by as slow as possible as I waited for the clock to show that five minutes had passed, once it had, I had to physically force myself not to leap eagerly out of my chair and casually shuffle over to my dads and give them each a kiss on the cheek. After that I waved to everyone else and practically sprinted when I’d turned the corner out of sight. When I’d reached the corridor that our bedrooms were on, I had a millisecond to wonder where he would be when his bedroom door opened and he gently but firmly snatched my wrist and pulled me inside before closing and locking the door with a click. I couldn’t tell you who moved first, but I can tell you that as soon as our lips met, I felt… complete. Our lips moved together effortlessly, as if we’d kissed a million times before and the sparks that seemed to echo throughout my body at his touch made me moan. He lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist out of instinct and I felt myself shudder when his metal arm slipped under my top and caressed the warmth of my back. My own hands moved to his hair, grateful that he’d removed the hair tie as my fingers moved through the silky strands without interference. I both felt and heard him groan when I gently scratched my nails over his scalp.

 He gently lowered me onto the bed, his body resting perfectly against mine as his hands worked to remove my top, his lips following and kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. He lingered on my soulmate mark for a moment longer, placing an especially tender kiss to the marked skin before removing my top completely.

 ‘You are so beautiful, and all mine.’ He growled and my thighs clenched around his waist in response.

 He smirked in satisfaction at my reaction but I paid it no mind as I reached forward and practically clawed at his Henley, desperate for the feel of his skin against mine. Once all of our clothes were removed and we were moving together, I knew right then and there that I had been wrong about me not deserving a soulmate. Bucky showed me how ignorant I was without having to use words. It was in how he touched me; gentle and deliberate. It was in how he looked at me as if I were the most important person in the world to him. It was in the way our bodies, our souls recognised each other and eradicated any feeling that wasn’t contentedness. I had been wrong about not deserving a soulmate, another half, a best friend, because I knew despite the minimal time we’d spent together and the minimal knowledge we had of one another, I had all of that and more in Bucky.

 As our bodies reached a climax together in a myriad of fireworks, I couldn’t help but think; I’d never been happier to be wrong.

 //

 ‘Good morning, doll.’ Bucky’s husky voice bought me out of my slumber gently, but I couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him and his warmth, desperately trying to chase the sleep I’d been pulled out of.

 ‘Morning.’ I mumbled against his chest, relaxing even further into him as his meal fingers began drawing shapes into the bottom of my back.

 ‘We should get up soon.’ He said, kissing my hair.

 ‘Why?’ I wondered, moving so I was directly on top of him now, my hands curling around his shoulders and my head directly above his heart, ‘I’m perfectly content right here.’

 He chuckled and the sound was fond, ‘Me too, sugar, but if we don’t move soon people are gonna start wonderin’ where we are, and I personally wouldn’t like them to find out about us by walkin’ in and seeing us naked in bed together.’

 ‘I know I should care about that, but I’m simply too comfortable and warm right now to process the validity of your comment.’ I mumbled, nuzzling into his neck and sighing happily at his scent. He smelled like sugar and spice—it was addicting.

 He laughed again and I felt my lips curl up into a grin at the sound, unable to stop myself for placing a chaste kiss at the side of his neck, ‘I love that sound.’

 Bucky didn’t say anything but he kissed my hair and held me a little tighter, his hand moving up and down my spine, causing me to practically melt into him. I was just on the cusp of sleep again when he sat up with me wrapped around him and sat me on the edge of the bed. I grumbled and rolled myself up in the sheets as I tried to fight the cold that wrapped around me without him close.

 ‘Come on, sweet thing,’ He sat me up again and caressed the side of my face, smiling gently when my eyes met his. I puckered my lips for a kiss and he leaned forward and pecked my lips softly, pulling back when I tried to deepen it with a chuckle.

 ‘Easy, baby, if you start that we’ll be in this bedroom all day.’ He kissed my forehead and my lips again.

 ‘Okay.’ I gave in standing up and stretching, when I looked over to him I saw his blue eyes had darkened to molten, ‘you’ll have to hold that thought for later, honey. I’m gonna go shower and then get dressed.’ I kissed him goodbye and slipped his discarded Henley from the previous night on before darting to my room across the hall.

 It was strange; we were only twenty feet apart at the most, but my heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest, an invisible pull willing me back to him. This must have been what Dad was talking about. If this was how it felt, I had no idea how my Dad and Pop were able to stay apart for weeks at a time, because I was already yearning to go back to him.

 //

 After I’d showered and pulled on some sweatpants, Bucky’s shirt and a sweatshirt I ventured out of my room with my hair still wet. It wasn’t like me not to dry my hair immediately, but I favoured getting back to my soulmate over spending the time getting my hair dry. He wasn’t in his room anymore, so I headed to the common room and found him sitting in the loveseat, quietly chatting to Pop and Sam who were sat side by side on the sofa across from him. Pepper was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t surprising—she often rose late on the rare days she had off. Dad was making breakfast and kissed my forehead as I moved past him to grab my mug and pour myself a cup of coffee. I noticed that Thor and Bruce were sat at the dining table with Clint and Tasha across from them, both couples speaking quietly to their partners. Without giving it much thought I walked over to the loveseat and cuddled into Bucky’s side, his metallic arm lifting without prompt and allowing me to move as close as possible. His hand came to rest on my waist, his thumb rubbing circles into my hip and making me practically melt into a state of relaxation into his side.

 I lifted my mug to my lips and took a gulp before resting the cup against his thigh as I snugged into his chest, inhaling his scent. Bucky’s lips met my damp hair and I felt his chest rumble underneath my ear as he mumbled, ‘you smell good, Sugar.’

 ‘So do you.’ I sighed, my eyes falling closed.

 We’d been so lost in each other that we hadn’t noticed the room fall deadly quiet. The only sounds coming from Bucky and I, as well as the sizzling of the bacon on the frying pan. Tasha and Clint weren’t surprised, Thor and Bruce were a mixture of amused and astonished, but Tony, Steve and Sam were downright shocked. The latter was staring at the newly bonded couple with their jaws hanging open, and their eyes wider than they had ever been. Their surprise was understandable, of course, as before this moment the pair had never been seen speaking a word to each other, and now they moved, spoke, and looked at each other with the same intensity and adoration as each bonded couple on the team. It was a few more minutes of the team observing the couple snuggling together, looking more relaxed than anyone had ever seen them, before the shock seemed to subside and allow for a vocalised reaction.

 Tony cleared his throat and said, ‘um, honey?’

 ‘Yeah dad?’ I responded, too relaxed to open my eyes.

 ‘When did you plan on telling us that you and Bucky were soulmates?’ His voice was casual and that was purposeful; he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea if he allowed his shock to leak into his voice.

 ‘Now?’ I said sheepishly, peeking an eye open and burrowing further into Bucky in an attempt to hide when I saw everyone was staring, ‘we found out last night.’

 ‘We would have said something, but everything happened so fast from there.’ Bucky said, sounding sheepish himself, but his hold on me didn’t waver, if anything he held me a little tighter and I felt a small sigh of contentedness leave my mouth in response.

 ‘Well,’ Clint stood up, pulling out a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolding it to it’s full A4 size, ‘Bruce and Thor had Christmas day.’

 A frown of confusion formed on my face as everyone groaned in disappointment.

 ‘You couldn’t have waited until new years eve?’ Sam complained, but it was all in good fun, ‘The pot was up to ten grand, Pep and I could have rolled around in that money.’

 ‘Well it looks like I and Bruce will have the honours.’ Thor announced proudly, kissing his mate chastely but passionately.

 ‘You were betting on us gettin’ together?’ Bucky clarified.

 ‘Yup.’ Clint nodded as he returned to the room, handing the demi god and scientist a black metallic box.

 ‘For how long?’ I asked, bewildered.

 ‘It was after about a week of Bucky being here, after Tasha noticed the looks you were both stealing at each other.’ Pop admitted.

 ‘You and dad were in on this?’

 ‘We were, Pumpkin.’ Pops said, looking slightly guilty.

 ‘You punk.’ Bucky shook his head in mock disapproval.

 ‘I know, we feel terrible about it.’ Dad said, standing behind his husband and placing a hand on his shoulder.

 I gave him a look and he admitted, ‘okay no we don’t, we just thought you two would be perfect together and we were routing for you to be happy!’

 Pops nodded in agreement, entwining his fingers with the billionaire’s.

 Bucky looked down at me, mirth shining in his eyes at the situation. I smothered a laugh behind my mug as I took a sip, giving my soulmate a slight nod as I told him he could decide what to do. He sent me a secret wink before fixing the team with his scariest Winter Soldier glare, and to my amusement everyone except for Tasha and Thor stiffened in concern for what was going to happen next. He had them squirming for a few more minutes before he let the laughter slip, I joined him in an instant, beyond amused at the annoyed and relieved expression on almost every face in the common room.

 ‘It’s fine.’ I shrugged once we recovered.

 Bucky took my empty mug from me without me having to ask and placed it onto the side table beside the love seat. My hand entwined with his once the task was complete and I blushed when he placed a kiss to the back of my hand, his eyes staring into mine with such intensity that I felt my heart skip a beat.

 ‘Well I was right.’ Pops said proudly, ‘they are perfect for each other.’

 ‘They sure are, Stevie.’ Dad agreed, placing a kiss to his husband’s cheek before returning to the kitchen to finish breakfast. Although, it was more of a brunch now, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the content and happy expressions both his daughter and Bucky were wearing. He felt something settle inside him at the sight—it was about time they both got their happily ever after and Tony couldn’t be happier that they’d found it with each other.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #soulmate imagine #bucky barnes x soulmate #steve rogers x tony stark #thor odison x bruce banner #clint barton x natasha #pepper potts x sam wilson

[fan4196]

Mother-in-law (Part 4)

Hey everyone! Here's (probably) the last part of this multi-chapter. I think about adding a fifth part, playing a little in the future, but I don't know yet. Tell me what you think.

Also thank you again to @angry-slytherin for beta reading.

For now, hope you like it! Enjoy!

-

...

"So answer my question, Princess. Why are you still hanging out with my family?" The atmosphere is way lighter now. They are laughing together, while Alex is still holding Jo's hands under his.

"Well four weeks after you left I found out that I was pregnant. I called you but you didn't pick up like all the other times before and the next number under your's was your moms. I saw her name in my contact list and just called her. I hadn't heard from you in four weeks and I wanted to know what was going on. But she told me that you had never been there. We talked, I cried, she comforted me and eventually I told her that I was pregnant. She was so happy and she wanted them in her life. And I wanted her in their lives; I wanted them to have a grandma and an aunt and uncles and cousins by blood. Even though I knew that they would have aunts and uncles at the hospital, I wanted them to have a real family. So I stayed in contact with your mom. I call her at least once a month and Amber too. Amber and I actually became really good friends, she was there when the twins were born-"

"When's their birthday?" Alex interrupts her with that question.

She grins at him. "Believe it or not but it's the 3rd of July." Jo's nodding softly while looking into his eyes, which look at her in disbelief but immediately soften.

"Wow. That's-"

"The day we met for the first time." She says softly and smiles.

"Wow, the universe is freaking cruel." He's looking at her with warm eyes.

"Trust me I cursed the world all the way to the OR. I actually asked Carina DeLuca if they could wait until midnight, but nope. Our babies got born on our anniversary." She replies with a laugh.

"I can imagine that. You know what I can't imagine. My sister in scrubs, trying to calm you down in the OR."

He's laughing too.

"She was anything but calm. I had to calm her down, while Carina tried to calm both of us down. Their birth was a mess." Jo's closing her eyes for a second, replaying the day of her babies birth.

"Tell me more about them." Alex is desperate to know more about his kids. He always wondered what his and Jo's kids would have been like and now that those kids really exist he wants to know everything.

"Alright, so- they are obviously twins. Emery is two and a half minutes older than Parker, her second name is actually Helen, after your mom, because she really was my rock during my pregnancy and because I knew that you wanted your daughter to have her grandma's name. Parkers second name is Joseph, after me, kind of. They were almost a month too early so they stayed in the NICU for a month and a half. They were really easy babies, thank God." Jo grinnes remembering her once tiny babies. "Their first word was actually 'Dada', which I was pretty pissed about. They love Pizza and their favorite sweets are donuts, but only the powdered sugar one. Parkers favorite color is green, Emery's is purple. Ahm- Parker wants to be either a bone surgeon or a ghost hunter, he's not quite sure yet. Emery wants to be a babies surgeon but only if she's allowed to wear her Tinkerbell wings over her lab coat. They are both really ambitious but they got the double dose of stubbornness." Alex has to laugh at that comment.

"They invented a new holiday 'Hallochristmas', which means they run around in costumes from Halloween until Christmas. If I hadn't talked them out of it they would still wear them. Their favorite bed time stories are when I tell them about cool surgeries or when I tell them about you." She whispers those last words, but Alex hears her clearly. He can't say anything because he's blown away and love struck. They are so perfect.

"Now tell me about your twins." Jo's trying to change the subject, while she's playing with his hand, which is now between her hands.

"Ok. They are eight now. They also both want to become doctors. They love our waffle sundays. They love animals, which we had way to many on that stupid farm. They are really good at school, they have amazing grades. Eli plays football and the trumpet. Alexis dances and plays the violin. And I have full custody for them but they visit Izzie once a month."

"What?" Jo didn't expect this kind of news.

"Yeah, ahm after Izzie tried to change every little thing about me I called it quit. We were always arguing so I moved out. I was still there every day, I just slept somewhere else. After a month or so Izzie got a new boyfriend. They went really fast and got married after only three months of knowing each other. I told her that I thought that they were moving way to fast but she wouldn't listen. One day I got a letter that her husband wants to adopt the twins and I had to give up my half of custody. I fought them in court and got full custody for the twins."

"Wow, what a bitch." This makes Alex laugh and Jo immediately gets infected by his laugh. But their laughter gets interrupt by someone opening the front door. A little head with curly, light brown hair pops out.

"Mommy, grandma told me to come get you because the food is ready."

Alex takes the blanket of them and offers Jo his hand to helps her up. Silently they walk towards the door where Emery is still waiting. Her daughter is about to run back to the kitchen when Jo calls after her.

"Emy wait a minute. I want you to meet someone."

While Jo gets rid of her coat and boots, Alex closes the door and also puts his jacket and shoes aside. Emery is watching the two adults, while she waits.

"Come here, Princess." She scoops her daughter up in her arms and walks closer to Alex.

"Emy, this is your daddy Alex." Jo introduces her daughter to Alex.

"Really?" The eyes of the three year old grow big, while she looks from her mother to Alex and back.

"Yes." Jo's nodding with a big smile.

"Can I hug you?" The little girl askes shyly. Alex answers with a big smile.

"Of course." He's taking her from Jo's arms into his and holds her close to his body. Emery puts her little arms around Alex's neck and kisses him on the cheek.

"I love you, daddy." She lays her head down on his shoulder and squeezes him a little tighter. The smile on Alex's face says it all. He couldn't be more happy right now. Jo watches them with the biggest smile on her face, also getting a little teary.

With his daughter still in his arms the three walk into the kitchen where everyone is already sitting at the big table. Alex and Jo take their seats and Emery lets go of her daddy's neck and takes the seat right next to him.

After they ate and talked, they make their way to the living room to finally open the presents. All of the kids are sitting on floor, while the adults are on the couches.

Jo is sitting next to Alex with a sleeping baby Evie on her chest. His right arm resting behind her on the couch. They are watching their kids playing together and laughing. Alex turns his view to the beautiful woman beside him and leans closer to her ear.

"Thank you for the best Christmas present I could have ever wished for."

Jo's looking confused at him, not quite understanding.

"Thank you for being here and thank you for those two amazing kids." She's answering with a smile and puts her head on his shoulder, while she keeps watching their playing kids.

"I think about moving back to Seattle. A few weeks ago Bailey called and made me a really good job offer and I consider taking it. Well- to be honest I know I will take it. Because the second I saw you made me realize what I want-" He puts a loose curl behind Jo's ear but before he can continue, she interrupts him.

"Alex, no. I can't do this, not with them." She grabs his hand out of her face and looks at him.

"I'm not only responsible for my own heart now but for their little hearts too and I can't let you break their hearts. I can't let you back into our life just like that. There are still things we have to talk about, so let's- let's start with being friends again, ok?"

"I promise you, I will do anything to not break your or their hearts. I've learned out of my mistakes. I won't repeat them. But I want to be in their lives. I want to be their dad and I want you. And I will do anything to get your trust back." He's talking calmly and he means every word.

"Let's start with hanging out and drinking beer again. And then we see what the future holds." She's smiling at him, while he's smiling back.

#Jolex #jolex #jolex fanfic #jo x alex #jo karev #jo wilson #alex karev #greys #grey's #grey's anatomy #grey's fanfic #fan4196 #fanfiction

[patheticwithanem]

2020 in Retrospect

Hey friend,

I know it’s late, but I HAVE TO DO THIS. I kind of promised myself I’m writing about the year that was. I’m not exactly sure why; maybe it’s to put things in perspective going in to 2021? And today’s my fourth year anniversary with my employer, so I guess it’s perfect timing? (More on that later)

So I was going through my notes (I have this habit of writing down what happens on a daily basis - be it activities, emotions, drama, name it) and one thing’s for sure. 2020 SUCKED. It did. But I’m committing to this no matter what!

First things first: lots of profanities along the way. Well actually, I was about halfway writing the letter when fucking Tumblr decided to refresh and delete what I’ve been writing for about one fucking hour now. So I have to fucking do it all over again. If this is the Lord telling me to stop being sentimental about 2020, fret not my Lord! I’m one stubborn son of a bitch, so I’m carrying on.

Here’s how the rest of the year unfolded. 2020. Let’s go.

JANUARY. Reunions?

January 1. Had a get-together with a few relatives in Malabon. It was fun! I used to be so allergic to family reunions but I guess age creeping in changes you? You value people even more now? This was also the last time we’re able to spend some time with my uncle from Singapore. He brought his family to spend the holidays here. He’s a sweetheart and a great father who’s missed.

January 9. I attended a college dormmate’s wedding. I remember contemplating whether to go or not only to realize I’m actually lucky to be even invited given the fact that I chose to be distant for them for a long while. I also told myself that not showing up is so far from what I’m trying to be. Although I wasn’t there for the whole thing, I’m glad I did come. I was able to bond with my roommates once again whom I treated like brothers ten years ago and that was nice. A not-so-close dormmate even introduced me to his boyfriend and that’s huuuuge. The bride was beautiful too, and I’m glad she’s in the best place right now after all she’s been through. She’s a strong one, that girl.

January 11. Got invited to a birthday pool party of a colleague at work. I have to say I’m actually quite surprised I was invited to this. She’s always had my back though and always kind of looked after me, so I had to go. It was fun but I didn’t get drunk AT ALL. 

January 12. AND THIS IS WHERE SHIT STARTED HAPPENING. The Taal Volcano erupted. It was awful especially for everyone living near the area because everything was covered with ash. It was also a day before my brother’s birthday and we thought the ashfall would be worse the next day so we decided to celebrate earlier. 

January 19. Went to a fiesta. Did not expect to survive that at all. It was a different kind of neighborhood, but the people were nice. 

January 25. Went to a public market with co-workers to buy clothes, eat chicken wings for dinner and then our regular fix of karaoke. Good times. 

Anything else? I was able to book a birthday trip to Yogyakarta, which I eventually canceled because of youknowwhat. Tragic.

February. Blindside!

February 7. Blindside’s a bitch. Yes, that’s what I had written on my notes. I legitimately felt blindsided. So story: I have a friend who I found out was pregnant (let’s call her Ms. Preggy, sorry) and me and her bestfriend (let’s call him Work Son because he was my work son in a lot of ways) decided to hold an intervention for her. The four of us including a friend I’m going to call The-Now-Bestie (kind of a spoiler) whom I had a misunderstanding and was not in speaking terms with will be coming to Work Son’s place. Essentially, the goal was to make Ms. Preggy open up about her pregnancy and her issues with the douchebag father; make her feel that she has us and she doesn’t need to be alone in this. I think it went well, in that regard. However, the whole thing was awkward in epic proportions. It’s as if me and The-Now-Bestie didn’t want to acknowledge each other’s existence, and when we didn’t have a choice, we were sarcastic to each other. I also really felt like an outsider among the four that time; like I wasn’t supposed to be there and wasn’t really contributing to anything. It was a really lonely feeling. I decided to distance myself to them after that.

February 13. WINNERS AT WAR PREMIERE! Words can’t even express how excited I was to see some of my heroes again on screen! Parvati with that “phoenix rising from the ashes” confessional? Damn, girl! Still a fucking legend! It was also nostalgic Yul working his godfather magic once again. I’ve always seen him as a top-tier winner and someone I looked up to for what he represented to the Asian community and the history of Survivor. It was also nice seeing Kim, Tyson, Tony, Sophie, Natalie and Sandra. But I must say I kind of missed Todd. He was my favorite winner and was a great storyteller, a great strategist and a great character with an amazing comeback story. He would’ve been perfect for a season with this caliber of players. And as much as I hate Jeff Probst for shoving him down our throats, I wanted to see Cochran play with these winners! Caramoan’s my first season (a late superfan, yes) and he’s the very reason I got so hooked with the show. I used to think it’s a game where people like me never win. So to see someone like Cochran who’s awkward in every sense of the word (and owning it) win Survivor, it is very inspiring. I like speaking in metaphors and it’s funny how much metaphorical Survivor can be to how I see life now. I see Cochran and if he can win in Survivor, I feel like I can win in life, as silly as that sounds. Cochran sucked his first season, but he then went on to play this dominant game his second try while still managing to be the adorkable underdog that he is. I love that story. Man, I get so worked up when I talk about Survivor! I wish I had that same passion with anything else.

February 19. Mom slipped and had to be rushed to the nearest ER. Good thing there were no fractures and she was fine. I guess we can thank the fats for that? LOL

February 21 ‘til 23. WEEKEND STAYCATION! I needed this! Drinking at the hotel taproom with a live band? YES! Indian for lunch and surf-and-turf buffet for dinner? YES YES YES! That lamb chops, MY LORD. Thank you.

February 29. Leap Day. I started journaling again. 

March. FUCKING COVID.

March 16. The Start of the Lockdown we all come to love now (punk, sarcasm). 

March 17. Politics is so taboo to discuss especially over dinner. But then BAM. I had a major fight with my dad (and by major, I mean MAJOR in a get-out-of-the-house-in-the-middle-of-the-pandemic kind of major). It was basically about a comment he made that’s so misogynistic (towards the Vice President) that I just knew I can’t just let go. It was sooo bad I got all pissed, and when I’m pissed, I can get scary. Maybe it’s the voice or the eyes or both, but the fight got really heated on the verge of getting physical. Which now that I think about it is stupid just because of fucking different political views. Well, I can never get behind the President and they’re huge fans of him and I’ve come to terms with that but it’s just... bleh. I’m not even gonna try to rationalize it because I can’t. It’s just.. disgusting. Oh fucking well. 

April. Wander-fucking-lust.

April 1. I started a 30-day Financial Detox which basically meant no unnecessary expenses. No online shopping, no paying for leisure. None. It was April Fools, but I was dead-set on saving! (Spoiler alert: I failed.)

April 6. Meltdown. I just really couldn’t hold it in anymore.

April 11. Dad’s birthday. After not talking for over a month (which is no easy feat in a tiny condominium unit), we acknowledged each other’s presence. By April 15, it’s like nothing happened anymore. He even gave me a home haircut (which for a beginner, is pretty good). On other news, I started watching The Politician on Netflix and t’was the day I started obsessing on Ben Platt and his music. 

April 16. A year ago, I was enjoying sidewalk pho and almost making friends at Cu Chi Tunnels and the Saigon Skydeck of the Bitexco Financial Tower in Ho Chi Minh. Damn, covid.

April 18. That crazy border-crossing from Saigon to Phnom Penh a year ago. That was fulfilling. Damn, covid.

April 19. A year ago, I was experiencing sunrise at Angkor Wat. Wander-fucking-lust UGH. 

April 30. That Town Hall shoutout from our company’s President because of reaching my quota from last month. That really felt good. As much as I hate to admit it, I like being validated from time to time. It definitely meant a lot especially coming from her who took a chance on me. I was patting my back.

MAY. Endure. Let Go. 

May 14. KING TONY WON. Very well-deserved win. A disappointment of a season if you ask me, but props to the king for dominating an all-winners season. Respect for that. Also Natalie and Michele played great games as well and they should be very proud of themselves. I feel like a proud father to these winners HAHAHA!

May 16. Was pleasantly surprised with Dead to Me. That car scene between Jen and Judy on that ninth episode from the second season? Damn. That’s one of the few moments I teared up because of a TV show. That was powerful. All that tension building up and then that sudden release? I really felt that.

May 26. Why do I always feel all this fucking rage inside of me? I try to think of any triggers but I can’t seem to find one that’s actually reasonable. It’s like the isolation getting the best of me. I initially thought quarantine’s going to be a cakewalk for an introvert like myself, but it wasn’t the case. I feel like I’m losing my shit because I was stripped off of the usual things I have access to whenever I feel uneasy and anxious and angry like this. Endure, let go, I know. But it’s so much easier said than done, right?

JUNE. Breathe.

June 12. So the plan to sell the condo and find a new place is real. We went to this great place in Valenzuela and it was a great house and all but I felt weird. Maybe I was having trouble letting go? Maybe it’s just me being averse to change yet again?

June 15. Slept 6am for that How To Get Away With Murder series finale. That speech. VIOLA. Chills all over my body. 

June 18. New phone was delivered. That was fast.

June 27. First time visiting the village we moved to. We were checking a different house this time and was already picturing us living there. Still felt weird, but maybe less.

Looking at it now, I realize almost nothing happened in this stretch of months. Pathetic.

JULY. Change (that’s not necessarily good lol)

July 3. The Anti-Terrorism Bill signed. FUCK THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE PHILIPPINE GOVERNMENT. 

July 10. Doomsday. The ABS-CBN renewal disapproved. FUCK THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE PHILIPPINE GOVERNMENT. Also, that first house we checked was bought this day. First heartbreak.

July 22. Decided to donate to one of my elementary teachers to help finance school supplies for his students in the province. That felt good. 

July 24. folklore’s goooood. This is the Taylor Swift sound that I love. (I had to write that down because that was a 2020 highlight to be honest)

AUGUST. Getting older. Again.

August 2. Donated to another cause: to help a really close friend’s mom (who’s a school principal) on financing their students’ lesson modules (they needed more paper so the donation was going to be used to buy more paper). That felt good.

August 3. Started obsessing on Dear Evan Hansen. I mean come on. HOW COME I ONLY KNEW OF THIS NOW?!?! The story, the acting, the soundtrack... it felt like I asked the Lord for a musical for me and he gave this on a silver platter. 

August 9. Lasagna, baked sushi, lechon belly, pansit, cake. Weird combination, I know, but that’s me!

August 11. Discovered the Slowly app. Changed my life since then! I’m not even exaggerating. I guess it has to do with feeling extremely lonely amid the pandemic and getting this platform where you can talk to literally anyone while still keeping your anonymity. And it strips you off of instant gratification you’re so used to because you actually have to wait for your letters to be sent and to arrive. A great exercise for patience if you ask me! And since you have to wait, you make your letters longer and more worthwhile. It’s a platform free of judgment which relies heavily on building actual mental and emotional connections. It’s a gift, truly. NOT EXAGGERATING; YES I’M THAT LONELY.

August 23. The house search continued. This time, the South!

August 24. It was my first time watching a Korean drama and I gotta say I get the hype now. Korea makes great stories and they take their time when telling these stories. The story centering about mental health was definitely what got me to try watching It’s Okay to Not Be Okay, but the show’s so much more than that. That was a great watch.

SEPTEMBER. Finally some light?

September 1. Second year anniversary. I still really miss her.

September 5. My cat’s 5th birthday! Of course we had to celebrate for her with baked macaroni and burnt cheesecake. 

September 11. Lost uncle. He gave a good fight. 

September 19. SENSE8. It’s a show that doesn’t need any explaining. It’s the BEST. I love this cast SO MUCH. I remember thinking if I ever get a tattoo (which is unlikely), I’ll maybe have the title of that Sense8 series finale inked on me. AMOR VINCIT OMNIA. Love conquers all. 

September 27. After a series of unfortunate events, we were led to this house on the same village we keep going back to, and the moment we saw it, we were sold. This is going to be our house. And it happened.

OCTOBER. Surprises?

October 6. Hooked up with someone I probably shouldn’t.

October 12. Booked a trip for next year because I’M HOPEFUL AS FUCK.

October 21. Had the best conversation I had in a long time. 

October 22. Hooked up with someone I probably shouldn’t. 

October 28. Organized a digital event for work. I’m still on the fence whether I’m proud of it or not. It was my first event, and I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. While I enjoyed all the preparation that came with it, from making that tactical marketing plan to coordinating with the organizers and my team, I felt like it was bland. There were lapses here and there and I know that we all tried the best we could, but maybe I just pictured it a little better in my mind? It wasn’t a flawless event and maybe I wanted it to be flawless. But it was fun. I never would’ve imagined me hosting an event, but I did. 

NOVEMBER. Decisions.

November 14. So news came and we’re finally moving. The buyer of the condo got approved and it was only a matter of weeks to settle documents and payment and we’re good to go. I had mixed feelings about it. It took me back to that time we started looking for houses. I wasn’t exactly ready to let go of the place I grew with for the past five years. And I wasn’t also ready to let go of the convenience, and the relationships I only have started building with friends I found along the way. But at that moment I knew I had to be happy because they were happy. My family was happy. I knew I have to be happy.

November 21. Started all the packing. Packing meant decluttering and reminiscing, so letting go of more things which was overwhelming at first, but inevitable. 

November 23. I had something checked in the hospital, and something happened and it wasn’t supposed to go that way but it did and it was so fucking bizarre lol

November 28. HAPPY MOVING DAY. It’s that day of the year. Stress was off the charts because of the time constraint and frankly, the lack of preparedness. Good thing a few people helped us with the rest of the packing. It was an impossible task for me and my sister alone so we were glad we got all the help we needed. I did most of the heavy lifting, so I had bruises all over my body for weeks, but after all was said and done, it felt surreal. Felt like everything coming full circle. That first night in the new home? I’ll never forget that. That was special.

December. The end of an era.

December 2. I went back to the condo to stay for a few more days. Get to feel the place one last time. Also lost a huge deal at work to a competitor. I usually really get depressed with these losses, but for some reason I felt indifferent about it. I guess it was my mind telling me I’ve mentally checked out of work already? That maybe it is really time to move on to something that’ll make me care about what I do again? Make me feel again?

December 4. Met someone (who we can call the Professor) I’ve been talking to for a while now. We’ve had some really great conversations leading to this night; talks at 3AM that’s kind of liberating? I was upfront about the moving and that I only have a few days left in the place which is probably why it happened. Professor was also upfront about leaving the country in a few months for an opportunity to work and do research in Japan for five fucking years. It was awkward at first; but we eventually warmed up to each other and spent the night together. 

December 5. Things escalated pretty quickly. The Professor gave me a shower (that was weird but I was feeling it and I thought it was sweet and sexy?). We cuddled until we slept and there was breakfast prepared when I woke up. I don’t usually get to experience this kind of stuff so I really appreciated that. I was feeling it. I thought I can get used to this! I left the place and was invited back again so I stayed over for another night. We’ve had a few more interesting conversations. I was not expecting some of the things we discussed especially the talk about long-distance relationships. The Professor asked me what I think about it and I was honest; I’m not against it but it’s not something I’ll take a chance on if I wasn’t sure about it. Mantra’s always been connection first before commitment. I’m not the “take a leap of faith” kind-of guy; I needed to be sure. Or at the very least be really mentally and emotionally connected with the person. I thought that made perfect sense. I still do.

December 6. So it was finally goodbye. Me and my sister went to the nearest church to donate a few clothes and shoes and to attend a mass. Bid farewell to the Professor too and promised each other to keep in touch. I also had an awkward encounter with my sister’s “friend” who she sneaked in the condo for God knows what for. Pretty sure they did the nasty.

December 13. We went to our old house (the one I spent my younger years in) to get a few stuff for the new house. I only really wanted to get my old bicycle because I want to be biking regularly for the next year. I want to take that fitness journey seriously! So I got the bike and I got to spend some time with some childhood friends. Good stuff.

December 15. A teammate resigned at work. The funny thing is he did it after getting that 13th month bonus HAHAHA! I can’t blame him though after learning about the salary he gets when he’s performing three functions in the team. That’s insane. But it really made me wonder: am I still in this for the long haul? Or do I move on too?

December 17. So I had my work desk and wardrobe delivered. Felt so nice buying things for my room! 

December 19. We got a new dog! Another French Bulldog. He’s pretty sweet. Someone’s not happy! (MY MOM)

December 22. And then this happened. We were supposed to meet after my dentist appointment (which I only used as an excuse to meet and I thought that was obvious) but the Professor never showed up. I waited for FIVE FREAKIN HOURS. I had like clothes with me because we agreed I sleepover but FUCK. Good thing a friend kept me company, but that was horrible. I thought YOU NEVER DO THAT TO ANYONE. I deserve better.

December 24. We had our house blessed. It was all super spontaneous; we invited a few friends and relatives over and had an intimate gathering. Mom got emotional (AGAIN).

December 27. So Ms. Preggy (from February - oooh that rhymed) had her son baptized. Since she lives a little father from the city, we decided to have a little staycation with some friends there too. The-Now-Bestie and Work Son was there, and we had beer and homecooked food and a slew of great conversations to cap off the year. 

Also December 27. I knew I needed to get something off my chest. And I just had to say it. 

“You’re so unfair. You shouldn’t have done that. Gave me false hopes. Gave me a “3-day trial period” only to disappear without any warning. Made promises you never intended to keep. You could’ve just told me you’re not interested anymore and I would’ve been fine with that but instead, you ghosted me. For the past few weeks since that weekend, it never seemed like you wanted to get to know me better. Or even just keep the communication going. It’s been one-sided and I wonder: has it always been this way? Maybe I’m remembering things differently. I told you I like you and I meant that. I’m still wrapping around my head why and how it happened to be honest. Maybe it’s that weekend? Maybe it’s the conversations leading up to when we first met? I don’t know. But things changed after that and I should ask you for an explanation but it’s really not the point. The point is I thought we can work something out and you hurt me. You may feel like you’re running out of time because of Japan but it’s no excuse to do that to anyone, really. You seem so sure about what you want so I hope you get whatever that is. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the memories.”

That was intense.

December 28. The Professor responded. “I apologize... I am getting attached... I had to “ponder on its implications to me in the long run”... I decided to slow down... It hurts... “That weekend that we met felt like I knew you before”... I am afraid... “You have no idea how hard it is to leave everything behind every 4-5 fucking years not because I wanted it but because I have to”... I still hope to continue whatever we have... “I will always remember you. Please don’t forget about me.”... YADA YADA YADA. 

I know. You know me. I try to empathize as much as possible. But I mean, come on. These are things I already know. It’s not what I needed to hear.

December 31. I needed to say something one last time. There’s already a lot of uncertainties in the world with COVID and life and everything else. I knew I needed answers; I want the binary. I want the black or white for this one. I’m not taking the gray with me next year. So I asked the following questions:

“What do you want from me? Do you want to be friends? Or we stick with occasional catching up on Viber every once in a while (because that’s what it sounds like to me)?”

“What do you want to get from your last two months here? What are you looking for? Just make the most “fun’? Or look for something that will stick?”

“Have you told me anything you really didn’t mean?”

“That one time we talked about long-distance, were you asking me?”

Fast forward to now: I never got the answer I needed. I guess this is one of those rare occasions where no answer is the answer. And after a few weeks of contemplating about it, I am leaving it behind in 2020. 

I’m actually at peace with that.

So there you have it. The suck-fest that is 2020. The first month of the new year wasn’t so bad. I feel this great energy. This year’s going to be different. I did tell you that this letter’s perfect timing. That’s because I’ve resigned and I’m moving on. A friend told me a while ago that he’s proud of me for finally taking action. The 2018 version of myself wouldn’t have done what I did and he was happy for me. I wanted a clean slate and I took it. That I was finally taking ownership of my life. 

I was elated. My friend usually spoils me with compliments and encouragement and my ever reliable negative self-image tend to disagree with him but for the first time in a very long time, it felt right. I’m not usually excited for New Years, but I guess I am?

I say bring it on, 2021.

Until then,

Patheticwithanem

#2020 sucked #2021 #perfect timing #reunions #blindside #Survivor #winners at war #metaphors #fuck covid #fuck dds #wanderlust #letting go #fuck the government #philippine government is a circus #folklore #getting older #dear evan hansen #slowly #house search #korean dramas #SENSE8 #amor vincit omnia #best conversation in a long time #moving on #nostalgia #mentally checked out #ghosted #i deserve better #blessing #the year in review

[et-lesailes]

daddy daycare

pairing: steve rogers x reader

themes: fluff

word count: 1800

summary: you and steve certainly have your hands full with having one year old triplet daughters, but it’s a daddy daycare day when you suddenly get called into work last minute. deciding that the avengers can help him out with watching your naughty children, he brings them to the tower for an afternoon of fun and endless cute little giggles.

taglist: @viarogers, @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @chalamet-evans, @world-of-losers,@songforhema

note: requested by anonymous // let me just say that i LOVE writing daddy!steve (i mean both kinds but especially this one) and i absolutely love babies so this was super fun to write :) my inbox is always open in general but it is ESPECIALLY open to requests like these hehe

** please send an ask if you would like to be added to my taglist of any chris evans related fics!

"You're positive you're going to be okay."

"Babe, yes! We'll be fine!"

"Okay, okay-- wait, you know they get a bar each after they-"

"After they wake up, yes, baby-- I'm their parent too, you know. And I'm a little offended you think I don't know their daily routine by now," your husband commented as he playfully nudged your side, then leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Go, the office needs you. I can take it from here, beautiful." You laughed softly and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, murmuring, "Alright, alright. I know you'll be just fine. Love you."

"Love ya more." He winked and playfully shooed you out the door, waving as you drove off. Turning around to head up the stairs, he peeked into the nursery, a fond smile immediately crossing his lips upon seeing the sight of his three little angels sleeping. Triplets had definitely not been planned for when you and Steve had decided you were ready for a baby, and while it certainly proved to be challenging, he wouldn't have had it any other way. He loved watching his girls show more and more of their unique personalities each and everyday, and he especially loved watching you being a mother-- to him, it was a sexy look on you, and he felt all sorts of both endearment and arousal watching you nurture and love his babies. 

"Feel free to sleep for another couple hours, sweethearts," he whispered playfully, peeking into each crib. "Daddy would like some downtime too, you know."

______________________________

"CHUCK! CHUCK!" 

Steve chuckled as he glanced at the ever talkative Brooklyn in the backseat through his mirror, nodding fondly. "Yeah, Brookie, that's a truck next to us! It's a pretty big one, isn't it?" 

To say the wake up process had been hectic was an understatement; it was difficult diapering and feeding three cranky babies, but they were all happy and smiling now as they bounced in their carseats, three sets of blue eyes all focused outside the window. "BIG CHUCK." Natalia declared seriously, pointing at it in case no one could see it-- the soldier couldn't help but laugh at how cute his children were. "Do you see the truck, Leigh? Do you know what color it is?" He questioned the oldest triplet, but she simply smiled as she gazed out the window; she always took a while to fully wake up after her naps, but Steve had always thought it was adorable. Brooklyn, however, took the opportunity to scream, "BOO!!" in response to his question, making the blond laugh loudly. "Not blue, Brooks, it's actually red. Can you say red?" 

"BOO!!"

"Alright, close enough. Look guys, we're almost there! Are you guys ready to see your aunties and uncles?"

Nat had called for a brief, casual meeting to go over a general state of the union, and considering how much the Avengers team loved the triplets, he figured it would be fun to take them. Besides, he wouldn't mind the extra sets of eyes watching them; three babies were definitely more than a handful, after all. "Weddy! Weddy!" Natalia cried out in excitement, then widened her eyes hopefully. "Toady there?" He chuckled in amusement upon her pronunciation of "Tony"-- she had taken a strong liking to the billionaire since she was practically an infant, and her face would practically light up every time she saw him. "Yes, Uncle Tony will be there. Uncle Tony, Uncle Rhodey, Uncle Sam, Aunt Nat--" He was cut off by an excited, "NAH!!!" shrieking in his direction, and he playfully flinched. "Brookie, ya gotta stop doing that while I'm driving!" he teasingly scolded, and the cheeky little girl looked at him with a giggle, clapping her hands. He could only laugh again, pulling up at the building and getting out of the car, ready to handle three very busy and toddling toddlers. 

______________________________

"Natalia Margaret Rogers, what do you think you're doing?" Sam crossed his arms playfully as he raised an eyebrow at the little girl currently poking at his wings that rested in the corner, having recently been upgraded by Tony. "Well, Sam, she's sitting right over here, because that little scamp over there is actually Brooklyn Marie Rogers." Steve corrected him with amusement, gesturing to Tony holding Natalia on his lap. "Anytime you see one of them being naughty, you can assume it's Brookie." Natasha said with a laugh, coming over and scooping up the curious toddler, kissing her forehead. "Isn't that right, ya little cutie?" 

"You know, I'm having a perfectly good time chilling here with Leigh. She's so calm." Rhodey spoke up from his place at the conference table, playfully bouncing the triplet as he held her. "I bet you never have to use her middle name." Steve glanced towards the two with an amused smile, eyebrow raised. "That's what you think, Rhodey, but she's completely different at home. Isn't that right, Little Miss Leigh Fallon?" The little girl simply looked at Steve with innocent eyes and he scoffed playfully, retorting, "You definitely get that look from your mama, my little Cap." 

"Here, Nat Attack, want another donut?" Tony held out half of the mini powdered donut for her, and she immediately started munching, the white powder spreading all over her lips. "Tony, you know my wife's going to kill me if she knows the amount of sugar you've been feeding my kids." Steve chuckled, and the man smirked in response. "What? I'm just helping make sure you guys have a fun night tonight. I remember all the good times with Morgan on her sugar highs." 

The group continued to laugh and play with the kids for a decent amount of time before Natasha finally cleared her throat. "Alright guys, lets get this show on the road-- with all these parents in the room, I'm sure they're too old to be staying out past 4 PM," she teased, shooting a playful smirk towards Clint, Tony, and Steve. Your husband rolled his eyes amused but turned his chair towards the large monitor, though glancing towards the triplets every few minutes. They seemed content with the crayons Steve had brought for them, coloring on both the paper and the table; he made a mental note to clean that before he left. 

“Wait, guys-- what’s this?” Nat frowned, suddenly zooming in on an image in the news, pulling it up on the screen. “Should we be worried?” Steve immediately leaned in with furrowed brows, inspecting the possible threat showed in the photo; the entire team was so focused, no one noticed little Brooklyn slipping through the crack of the open door, her two sisters dutifully following her. It was only a few minutes later when everyone deemed the image as a false alarm that Steve’s eyes widened, realizing his children weren’t in the room. “Girls?? Girls! Where are you?” he called out, shooting up from his seat. “Damn it.” He ran out of the room, looking to both sides of the hallway as Nat quickly came out behind him. “There’s no way they could have gotten far, they just learned how to walk a few months ago. I’ll go left, you go right.” She assured him, even chuckling softly finding the situation quite amusing. Nodding his head, he turned to the right side of the hallway, peeking into every room. “Leigh! Brookie! Natalia, come on guys! I’ll buy you guys chocolate chip cookies if you come to Daddy!” He was starting to get a little worried now, still not seeing them; until he heard a loud shriek come from further down the hallway. With wide eyes, he practically sprinted towards the noise, bursting into the room it had come from.

“Oh. Hey there, Cap! Sir. Mr America… Rogers.”

Steve blinked as he looked down at Scott Lang, sitting on the floor with his three sixteen month old girls clambering over him, giggling and laughing in delight for no apparent reason. “I came because I wanted to talk to Tony about this new breakthrough Hank and I discovered in the lab-- and then I got lost, and then I was trying to find a better signal on my phone, and then I ran into these three cutie patooties!” A wide smile crossed his lips as he ruffled Leigh’s hair, earning a happy squeal from her lips. Exhaling relieved, Steve ran a hand through his blond hair and smiled tiredly at Scott, nodding in thanks. “They seem to like you a lot. It’s your first time meeting them, isn’t it?” Looking to Brooklyn, he raised an eyebrow as he scooped her up, mumbling playfully, “And let me guess. You orchestrated this, didn’t you?” The little girl simply giggled, lifting her hands up to touch her father’s cheeks. “Wawa?” Steve laughed, kissing his daughter’s nose. “Mmhm, I see you changing the subject. Alright, alright, I’ll get you girls some water and then we’ll head home. I bet Mommy’s back by now….”

______________________________

You looked up and immediately smiled upon seeing Steve walk in, carrying Natalia and Brooklyn in each arm while Leigh sat upon his shoulders. “Hello, beautiful,” he greeted, a charming smile crossing his lips as he came over and carefully leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Mama!!! MAMA!” shrieked Natalia, reaching out for you; you giggled as you took her from your husband, kissing her head. “Hello, my pretty babies! And my handsome soldier,” you stood on your tiptoes to give Steve a peck on the lips. “Did you girls take good care of Daddy today?”

Leigh immediately nodded her head with a proud smile, reaching down to hug Steve’s head but only succeeding in somewhat choking his neck. Coughing slightly, he chuckled as he glanced up at her. “Thank you sweetheart, I love you too.” 

“They were good? Didn't give you too much trouble?” you asked with slight amusement, and he smiled somewhat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Er…. I’ll just tell you about our day later tonight, baby doll. Come on, sit down, let me make you some tea or something.” He smiled and kissed you again before setting Brooklyn down, then playfully grabbed Leigh to hold in his arms. “Come on, my little chef, come help me get Mommy a yummy snack.” 

You smiled fondly as you watched your husband and daughter go into the kitchen, holding Nat while leaning down to hug Brooklyn. “Mm based on that answer, I’m going to guess you kept Daddy on his toes today.”

“Dada toes!” she exclaimed as if confirming, and you giggled softly, shaking your head. “Oh babies, Mommy and Daddy are never going to have a moment of peace with you three, are we?” 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #steve rogers fluff #fanfiction #fluff

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Prompt: Can I get a pov of harry over the years having two dads? Like instead of getting scolded for a prank, he gets a reward or advices on draco?

and “Im not sure if you’ve already receive this because I sent a prompt two months ago. Prompt: Harry’s POV growing up with two dads” 

Harry was laying face down on the floor, feeling miserable. Dad didn't seem to care, because other than an, "I'll listen to you when you have a better tone," he just let Harry be sad. Pop would save him, right? Because laying on the hard, cold wood was only making him feel worse, but if he got up, he'd be proving Dad right when he'd first said that all Harry needed was a little quiet time. 

The front door opened and closed, and Harry waited. "What's happening here?" Pop asked in a whisper. 

"Harry was getting overwhelmed, and when I reminded him that he couldn't yell at me, he decided the floor was his best friend." 

"Ah," Pop said, and Harry figured that this was the time where he'd step in. But all he did was pat him gently on the head and keep walking. 

Harry made a noise of frustration but didn't move. Now he was mad again, and he didn't want to get in real trouble if he screamed again. After ages and ages of listening to them walk around and move the chairs, he pushed himself up and shuffled off to his room. He'd still have to be quiet, but at least he could do it sitting on his bed. 

*

Hey Dad, can I go to Ron's tonight?" Neville was supposed to be there too, but his parents said it didn't really matter unless it was a whole bunch of people. 

Dad didn't look up, bringing the paper closer to his face to peer through his glasses at something (probably on the Quidditch page). "Go ask your father." 

Harry shuffled off and made his way to the garage. He opened the door and stepped onto the cold concrete steps, then looked up and saw Pop working on his motorbike, hair tied back. He said that Harry had to get older before he was allowed to ride it, but he'd said that years ago too, so Harry wasn't sure he'd ever be allowed. "Hey Pop, can I spend the night at Ron's?" 

"Go ask your father." 

"I just asked him." 

"And what did he say?" 

"To ask you." 

Pop nodded. "Uh-huh. Go ask him again, prongslet." 

"Okay." It didn't make any sense, but fine, he'd go back and ask Dad again. He went back in the house and walked to the living room again where Dad was now holding the newspaper a few centimeters from his nose. "Hey Dad? Can I go to Ron's for tonight?" 

"Er," Dad said, clearly not paying attention as his brow furrowed. "Go ask your father." 

"I just asked him," Harry said, a little annoyed. This wasn't a big thing he was asking, he'd been to Ron's a hundred times before. 

"Ask him again." 

"He told me to ask you again." 

"Well go ask him one more time Haz, just for good measure." 

Harry scowled at his father, but he still wasn't looking. "Fine," he said, throwing up his hands and turning towards the garage. This time, he opened the door but didn't step down. "Pop, can I go to Ron's?" 

"I thought you were going to ask Dad?" 

"I did, and he told me to ask you again." 

"How rude," Pop commented idly, clearly not meaning it. Harry kinda meant it. "When are you wanting to leave?" 

"Before dinner?" 

"And when will you be back?" 

"Before... lunch?" 

Pop nodded, finally looking up at him. "Sounds good. Let me know when you're ready and I'll bring you over." 

"Pop," Harry whined, blushing a little. "I'm not a little kid anymore, I know how to use the floo." 

"I know you do, but I don't let you wander the streets all by yourself, so you don't get to use the floo all by yourself." 

"I'm old enough to do both of those. I'm going to Hogwarts next year," he said, hoping that it would convince Pop to let him go by himself. It was so embarrassing to have his parents dropping him off every single time when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. 

"Ugh, don't remind me," Pop said, making a face. "I'm not happy about that either, but it's not like you'll be traipsing about the town by yourself; you're going to be in school, and it's only once you're thirteen that you're allowed to go to Hogsmeade weekends. I can handle you doing that at thirteen. Not ten. You're too young. Oh Merlin how are you already ten this is ridiculous." 

"But I can go?" Harry asked. If he didn't stop Pop, he'd just keep going and going. 

"Yep. And don't even think about popping over by yourself because I will come get you back if you try it." 

"I won't," Harry sighed. The memory of the time he'd tried that was burned permanently into his brain, and he never wanted to be that embarrassed again. 

*

Dear Dad and Pop,

I got detention. Professor McGonagall looked pretty mad, but you don't think she hates me now, right? She let me on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, that must mean she likes me a little? Wait do you think she'll kick me off? No jokes, I need to know because now I'm freaking out. It was only fifteen points and that's not NEAR enough to get rid of me. I think. Maybe? Merlin, I'm panicking. She doesn't HAVE to keep me on because she was already breaking the rules to get me on in the first place! My quidditch career is over before it could get started :( I'm going to end up, like, writing on an endless piece of parchment for the rest of my life until the day I die. 

Anyways, I got detention because Malfoy (Draco, you remember him? What a prick) challenged me to a duel and I said yes only we had to do it after curfew because you're not allowed to duel, and instead of showing up he told Filch and I got caught out of bed. So yeah, Ron's got detention too, which isn't fun but at least we'll be writing lines together. It's supposed to be with Professor Quirrell, and I know he doesn't may that much attention so we'll be able to pass notes or something instead of dying of boredom. 

Homework is awful. I can't believe I have to do this for SEVEN YEARS, I'm not sure I'll survive another month of this. 

Love you! Harry 

James read it, then laughed and handed it over to Sirius. "Your son is a drama queen." 

"Our son," Sirius corrected. "Our son is a drama queen." Sirius got further down and snickered. "A very big drama queen. Why did he agree to a duel? Does he even know any spells that he could use?" 

"They're eleven, so he could probably use the Jelly Legs Jinx and win," James said automatically, then paused. "We should tell him not to accept any future duels, right? That's something responsible parents do?" 

"I think so," Sirius said, grabbing a sheet of parchment for their reply. The responding letter mostly consisted of a mini confetti explosion in celebration of his first detention, an assurance that McGonagall wasn't going to kick him off the team over fifteen measly points when James had easily cost Gryffindor three hundred points in his first year and still made it on the quidditch team in second year, and a reminder to not accept duels until he was at least fifteen and knew what he was doing. They may or may not have attached a list of possible pranks for Harry to use on Draco as payback for narcing on him, but they were merely suggestions. 

*

"I'm going to wrap you in a bubble charm and keep you home so you'll be safe," Pop said, practically suffocating Harry in a hug. He'd hugged him as soon as they came into the Hospital Wing, and he still hadn't let go. Dad had given him a very tight hug, then sat on the bed looking all worried. Harry had thought that was going to be the worst part-- the worried faces-- but Pop was still clinging to him. 

"You're choking me," Harry said. 

"Yeah and I don't think we can realistically keep him in the house that long. He'd pull a jailbreak, and then where would we be? C'mon Si, let the kiddo breathe," Dad said, tugging on Pop's arm. 

Pop finally let go, but it was very reluctant. Then he walked around the bed and cuddled up to Dad, looking like a sad puppy. 

"Look Harry, me and Pop talked about it and... maybe we should homeschool you next year."

"What?" 

"Last year was fine, you know? Unique sort of situation, you were trying to do the right thing, and it was just the once. But now, well now it's starting to feel like a pattern. I know you're not creating the trouble or summat, but this is the second time in two years that you've had a completely once-in-a-lifetime thing happen and it nearly killed you both times. Last time it was a philosopher's stone, this time it was a sodding basilisk, what's going to happen next year? Dumbledore's phoenix goes rogue?" 

"James," Pop said quietly, and Dad shook his head, expression turning half-worried, half-determined. 

"Right, just er, we think it would be safest this way. It's not set in stone yet or anything," he added when Harry realised they were being serious and not joking around, "but we- well, we're thinking about it for next year." 

"How is that any different than keeping me in a bubble?" 

"Lots of kids get homeschooled, it's not that strange. You'd still be able to leave the house and everything." 

"What about quidditch?" Even if both his parents and Uncle Moony played with him, that wouldn't be enough for a single team, let alone a game. 

"Like I said Haz, it's not decided yet." 

"But you're thinking about it," he muttered petulantly, picking at the white sheet covering his legs. 

"You almost died. Twice. That's not normal, so we don't get to treat it like it is." 

Harry wanted to cry because it wasn't fair, but Dad's voice was getting that edge to it that meant he was getting all emotional and wasn't going to be swayed no matter how much Harry tried to talk him out of it. Oh Merlin he was actually about to start crying. He scrubbed at his face, and now Pop was hugging him again but he didn't mind as much this time. 

"I know it seems like the end of the world, Harry," he said quietly, just for Harry's ears, "but all we want is for you to be safe, happy, and healthy. We'll figure it out together, okay?" 

Harry sniffled and didn't respond. 

*

"Hey, erm, can Draco come to dinner this Saturday?" 

"Yeah sure," Dad said, then paused, whipping his head around comically to look at Harry. "Draco Malfoy?" 

"Er. Yeah? Do you know any other Draco's?" 

"I thought you hated him." 

"Back in like, first year, when he was a total prat," Harry said, shifting awkwardly. He'd known this was going to be awkward as all hell when he asked if Draco wanted to come, but having to deal with it was a whole new level of mortifying. 

"Is not a prat anymore?" Dad asked, but it's not as though he had a personal stake in this, he was just confused. All he had to go on was the Malfoy name-- and therefore what he knew about Lucius and Narcissa-- and what Harry told him. Harry had been a touch, er, in denial about his obsession with Draco, but Ron had set him straight (as it were). 

"He's not that bad when you get him to use his brain." Once you pointed out the issues with blood purist logic, he started to get over it. It was a bit of a work in progress, but he was trying. He had even apologised to Hermione for calling her slurs, and after it became clear he meant it, they'd started getting along. Sort of. They both liked to be the smartest person in the room, so they had a tendency to butt heads. "You'll see, he's great." 

"Okay," Dad said slowly, peering at Harry in a way that made him shift again. "Oh." Dad's eyes went wide, and he had a little smirk on his face. 

Harry's face flamed in embarrassment. 

"Of course he can come." 

*

Harry was wringing his hands, waiting for the yelling to start. His fathers had never yelled at him before, but more and more often they'd been yelling near him, and with everything going on recently, they might actually yell at him this time. He'd broken into the Ministry, brought his friends with him, nearly died again, gone toe to toe with Death Eaters when they didn't think he should even be dueling yet, and... he'd had his arse saved by them and the other Order members showing up. They were going to be so mad at him for not only getting into this mess, but for dragging his friends into the trouble too. Sure Neville, Ron, and Hermione were all used to this by now, but this was a first time for the others. Ginny and Luna, for example. And Luna had gotten a cut on her leg so bad that she couldn't walk. Ginny had gotten sand from the time turners in the cuts on her hand and now she was having issues with her memory. Not the mention that Draco had specifically not been invited to help the situation with his family, but he'd come along anyways and gotten a bludgeoning spell right in the arm. 

And it was all his fault. 

Almost all of them had gotten hurt, and it was Harry's fault. Buggering hell, he deserved to get yelled at. Maybe next time he'd be smart enough to leave them all at Hogwarts, where they'd be safe. 

Dad came over to him, but Pop was still talking (more like arguing) with the aurors. "You hurt?" he asked. 

Mutely, Harry shook his head. 

Dad pulled him into a one armed hug, his other hand still clutched tight around his wand. "Let's go home." 

"My friends-" 

"Are going home too. You'll be able to check in with them tomorrow." 

They started to walk, but Harry stopped. "What about Pop?" 

"He'll meet us at home when he's done." 

"I... okay," Harry muttered. 

*

Voldemort was dead again, and Harry felt guilty for everyone that had died. Felt guilty for everyone that had gotten hurt. He felt... a lot, and none of it was good. Dad had almost died, and Pop hadn't been able to stop crying for three days. When Dad got out of hospital, he'd done a lot of crying too. 

Harry moved out, thinking it would help. 

His fathers kept calling him to make sure he was still eating and getting rest; he wasn't. They asked him to move back in, and he did because all moving out had done was make him feel worse. His nightmares had gotten worse and he never wanted to leave the flat, let alone cook himself anything decent. Living back at home though, Dad was cooking to deal with stress, and Pop forced him to come along for errands just so he'd get fresh air. 

*

"Hey Pop?" 

"Hm?" 

"What would you say if I told you I fancy women?" 

"I'd ask if there's a particular woman taking up your attention." 

"And if I fancy men?" 

"I'd ask if there's a particular man taking up your attention." 

"And if I fancy both?" 

Pop looked over at him and blinked. "I'd ask if you're dating two people at once, because that can be dangerous. Do they know about each other? Cause it's fine if they do, but if they don't, that's playing with fiendfyre, Haz." 

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "No, there's not anyone. Not a man or a woman, and certainly not one of each. I was just... I dunno, I guess I was wondering if you were okay with it?" 

"Course I am." Pop tilted his head a little. "Were you worried?" 

"I dunno. A little." 

"Has it escaped your attention that I am married to your father? Another man?" 

Harry rolled his eyes, giving Pop's shoulder a shove as he started to feel a little silly for being nervous. "Yeah, I noticed, thanks. Do you think Dad will care?" 

"He'll probably ask you the same questions I did." 

"Why would you both think there's someone I'm interested in?" 

"There was a certain Draco Malfoy that you were eyeing, if I remember correctly." 

"You knew about that?" Harry squeaked, cheeks reddening. 

"You aren't very subtle, prongslet. Did that ever go anywhere?" 

Harry thought about the almost dates they'd been going on, and his blush deepened. He cleared his throat, and Pop chuckled. 

"Don't worry about it, kiddo, I'm just taking the piss. Dad won't mind that you like one or the other or both anymore than I did." 

Harry cleared his throat again and willed for his cheeks to go back to their normal color. "Thanks, Pop." He'd won a war, been in more fights than he could count, but telling his fathers that he was bi was still embarrassing. 

#prongsfoot #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #fanfic #marauders #filled #james lives #established relationship #married #post first war #second war #raising harry #siriuslystarbucks #finallyoldenoughtoreadsmut

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part eight) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: 5550 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part eight: It’s one of those days for Dean where everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. After one hell of a day, Bobby has to break the news to Ash, who doesn’t take the lay off well. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: About Today - The National (final scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     7.30 AM, Monday morning. Several hundred hooves tremble the ground. Earthy colored dust has turned into dark mud overnight as the heavens unleashed a rainstorm that still hasn't stopped from raging down. The cattle moos anxiously, trying to stick together as a herd. Bobby’s dog, Rumsfeld, barks over the sound of it all, his enthusiastic calls trumped by the shouts and whistles of the wranglers.       "Yah!” Dean shouts, cutting off young stock that threatens to fan out.

     Droplets as big as marbles fall from the grey sky, the water caught in the brim of his hat pouring from it whenever he tips it down. It’s unusually cold this morning without sunshine to burn the night away. The long, leather coat he’s wearing protects him from that, but the rain started coming through the seams on his shoulders and elbows two hours ago and a steady drip down his neck has drenched his shirt already. Dean has been in the saddle since four o'clock, ever since the thunder woke him up and an eerie gut feeling began to unsettle him. Something was wrong, he felt it in his bones. As he stepped out onto the porch, he immediately noticed the distressed young stock on the wrong side of the fence. Apparently, the cattle panicked in the thunderstorm, took down a gate, and escaped the pen, splitting the herd in two. They were absolutely all over the place, roaming over more than forty acres. With a buyer coming in at 9 AM, he had to gather the two hundred cows and bulls fast, if he wanted to avoid a financial disaster.      So here they are; wet through, tired and miserable, trying to maneuver their horses on the slick surface. A perfect start for this dreadful Monday.

     A sharp whistle reverberates through the valley, requiring his attention. It's Bobby, looking over the mayhem from a small hill, calling his horse to a stand. “Dean, stragglers!”      His head wrangler notices three steers swaying away from the herd. Dean turns from the tail of the group and pushes his horse forward, but immediately senses the loss of grip in the slippery mud. Led’s hind legs skid from under his body, forcing the buckskin to the ground. As the horse's knees buckle, the experienced rider decides in a split second not to leave the sinking ship. Instead, he skillfully sticks to the saddle like he’s glued to the leather, and moves his weight to level out the balance. At the same time, he pulls Led’s nose from the ground and gives enough free rein right after, simultaneously pushing his heels into the horse’s flanks, encourages him to give it his everything to get back on his feet. His quick thinking enables the stallion to break the fall and thankfully; Led steadies himself. Dean breathes out; that was way too close.      “Well done, bud,” the rider soothes, ruffling the Quarter’s mane, glad that he was able to prevent a possibly painful crash.      “Hell of a save,” Benny comments from several yards away. “You alright?”      “I'm good,” Dean assures his best friend. “We need to round them up fast before this whole pasture turns into a mudslide.”      He pushes Led forward, who picks up speed carefully, smart enough to not make the same mistake twice. It takes a while to make up for the lost time, but then he wings the three bulls, guiding them back to the group. Slowly but surely, the wranglers manage to maneuver the large number of animals back into another secured pen. It’s past eight o’clock when Jo closes the last gate and they can all take a breather. Too bad they cannot head back to bed just yet, the day has only just begun.      “Next time you wake me up in the middle of the night, make sure it’s because there’s some hot gal waiting for me on my doorstep,” Ash mocks as he slows his horse down.      Dean looks aside, grinning at the guy that’s in charge of the cattle. “You have enough problems controlling your cows, let alone women, Ash.”      Benny laughs at that, so does Jo. He’s sure Bobby would have laughed at it too, if it wasn't for the troubling decision that has been made. The ranch owner rests his hand on the horn, taking in his dream team as the rain finally stops falling. Today is the day that he will sell over three-fourths of his cattle. Decades of blood, sweat and tears, sold for a dime. Damage control, they call that. It ain't pretty, but it’s necessary to prevent this place from drowning. What else is necessary is cutting down on personnel. Collateral damage is the term, Bobby believes. There’s that word again: damage.      “Is Rufus still dropping by at nine?” Dean, who held up his horse to ride next to his uncle, checks with him.      “Yeah, but you know Rufus. Could be eleven just as well,” Bobby mutters, aware of his old friend’s carelessness.      “Better ask Ellen to break out the Johnny Walker Blue if you're aiming for a good price,” his right hand suggests, before he halts at the tack up area.      The sound of horseshoes splashing on the wet surface draws Y/N’s attention. She parks her broom against the stable wall and peeks around the corner, spotting the wranglers under the Yucca tree, which seems to cry silently as tears of rain drip down from its branches.      “Garth! They're here!” she shouts at the stable boy on the other side of the barn.      The slender guy pops his head out of a stall, then walks out and closes the door behind him. Like the wranglers, he and the intern got up at four in the morning as well. During the weekend the stables aren't mucked out, which adds to the work on Monday, and with Bobby, Jo and Dean handling the breakout, the two of them had to feed and turn out the animals as well. Getting up early was the only way to get all the work done without falling behind.       As the dark rain clouds pass, everyone on the square gets off their horses. Y/N walks up to Bobby, sensing the low morale. No wonder, because all five wranglers are soaked, probably sore and tired too.      “I got him.” She takes over his chestnut named Seger. “Ellen has breakfast ready for you.”     “Thank you, Darlin’,” the old man mumbles, stiffly making his way to the cafeteria.      While tying up Seger, Y/N watches the ranch owner hobble off, wondering why he seems so burdened. When she glances back to loosen the horse’s cinch, a handsome cowboy catches her eye on the other side of the chestnut. Dean takes off Led’s bridle, the last waterdrops rolling from the dip of his hat. Mud splatters have sprayed across his leather overcoat, his boots covered in dirt. There are smudges on his face, along with a weekend stubble still on his strong jaw. The knuckles of his firm hands have a blue shade, so do his lips; he must be so cold after four hours in the pouring rain. With sympathy, she looks at him.        “Hell of a morning, huh?” she comments, trying to make small talk.      Dean looks up and pauses his action. He seems a little surprised by her voice, as if only just now he realized she was behind the horse next to him. The line parting his lips breaks in a small smile. It’s the first time he hears her use a word as such. His language is terrible, he throws in a variation of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ wherever it fits. But Y/N on the other hand, coming from upstate, says ‘gosh’ at most, and uses terms such as ‘for heaven’s sake’, which he finds quite cute. Apparently she’s adapting to her company.       The wrangler scoffs. “You can say that again.”      He unbuckles the cinch and removes the saddle from Led’s back. The mud sticking to the saddle pad is hard to miss and it catches the intern’s eye. Led must have hit the ground at some point, how else would the animal have dirt caked thick in his coat on his entire side?      “Did you fall?” she asks.      Dean chuckles, slightly amused, while he puts the heavy saddle on the bar his horse is tied to as well. He heard that, the worry in her voice.      “Led slipped, but he was able to steady himself,” he reassures.      The cowboy returns his focus to the buckskin next to him as he turns the faucet of the water source. Led might be wet through just like his rider, but he’s covered in filth as well, and that's no way to bring a horse back to his stable. He quickly hoses down his Quarter, while Y/N washes Seger’s feet. When she’s done, she follows Benny and Jo as they return their horses to the stable. Coming back to pick up the saddle, Y/N finds her supervisor crouched down next to Led’s left front leg.      “Shit…” he curses, feeling the cannon bone.      The saddle is left on the bar. Instead, Y/N comes to see what Dean is annoyed with. With just one glance she can determine the swelling on the back of the leg, a little above the fetlock joint.      “Tendon?” she assumes, petting the horse on the shoulder.      Dean carefully feels the tissue, causing Led to flinch. It’s painful, but with all the fluid that is building up around the injury, it’s hard to tell what exactly is causing the reaction.       “Could be. He seemed sound after he tripped,” the wrangler contemplates. “Can you jog him?”      “Sure,” she replies, after which she unties the horse.      Y/N leads the beautiful Quarter in a straight line and starts to run after a few yards. With the first stride it’s already clear that Led is anything but even. Only the  click-clack  sound of Led’s shoes on the surface is enough to state the obvious.       “Well, that ain't good,” Dean sighs as Y/N walks the palomino back.      “You didn't feel him at all?” she checks with the wrangler.      “The poor bastard must have worked through the pain. He’s a tough horse,” Dean ponders, running his hand down Led’s face with sympathy. “I'll cool his leg for a while. Can you get a rug for him?”      “What about you?”       He shrugs selflessly. “I’ll skip breakfast.”      “You’re not skipping breakfast. You've been working nonstop since four AM, you deserve a break,” Y/N decides, strong-minded. “I have cooling leg boots which Led can wear while he's stabled. It works better than cooling with water.”      “Alright then.” He smiles, appreciating her firm response.      He takes over his horse and leads Led back to the barn without hasting him. Silently, Dean turns the Quarter in as his intern walks to the tack room to get the leg wrap and a rug, followed by a stop at the cafeteria to pick up two cool packs from the freezer. On her way over, she notices the handsome wrangler staring at nothing in particular, lost in thoughts. His fingers absently rub Led’s withers, who on his turn bends his neck and seeks the cowboy’s free hand, nuzzling his nose against his skin, as if he is trying to comfort his rider in return. Although it’s a heartwarming sight to see the man having a moment with the beautiful animal, Y/N can sense something is off about him. Not that she knows him all that well, but she can tell that he’s carrying a crippling weight. He’s quiet, for one. No smart answers or perky remarks that could easily be mistaken for flirting. There is also something about his eyes, something weary.       “Here you go,” she says, handing over the boot.      Dean takes it and straps around the injured leg, while Y/N lays a fleece rug on Led’s back to prevent the horse from cooling down too fast. When the wrangler rises to his feet and lets his fingers glide through Led’s golden coat while waiting for her to secure the rug, the silence is awfully evident.        “Are you okay?” she asks carefully.      Dean glances up, caught off guard by the question. For a moment he reckons she’s asking because of the almost crash and now Led’s injury, but when his eyes meet hers, he sees that the question is more layered than that. His first instinct is to throw her a cocky comment, that a little mud isn't ever going to bring him down, but he decides against it. He’s not sure if his hesitation is caused by her ability to read between the lines, but the young man suddenly feels vulnerable, intimidated even.      “Yeah, I'm fine,” he says. “Let’s eat. Don't know about you, but I'm starving.”     She fakes a smile. Of course, she could eat after a morning like today, but she was hoping Dean would take the opportunity to get it off his chest.       A pleasant heat and the smell of bacon and toast welcome them like it does every working day, when Y/N pushes open the door to the cozy personnel hangout. Ellen’s breakfast is always something to look forward to, but today it’s a true gift from heaven. The rest of the crew sits down after having changed into dry clothes and wait impatiently for their bacon and eggs, as Bobby finishes his plate first. When the door creaks, Ellen looks up from behind the stove.      “Oh honey, look at you,” she says when Dean follows you inside. “Did you drown out there? You're soaked through.”      Her nephew hangs his dripping coat and Sheplers on the hat rack above the heater and is welcomed by his aunt with a clean towel, a warm flannel and a pair of jeans      “Why don't you freshen up first and put on some dry clothes. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold,” she insists.      “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean takes the neatly folded pile from her arms after which he places a short, genuine kiss on her hair and moves to the backroom to change.      Y/N can't help but smile when she sits down, delighted to witness the wrangler’s soft side for the second time today. The warmth spreads through her like the hot coffee that she swallows down and settles in the pit of her stomach. She folds her fingers around the mug as she takes another sip, peering over the edge at the man she is losing her heart to as he closes the door behind him. A kick against the shin awakens her from a trance, the action causing her to almost choke on her coffee. Jo sits across the table, her deadly glare demanding to get it together. Flustered and caught, Y/N averts her gaze at the plate that Ellen just set down under her nose.       “Dig in while it’s still warm, sweety,” she insists, oblivious of how the intern feels about her nephew.      Y/N does so, partly as an excuse to not look Jo in the eye and be confronted with her judgment. But when Dean enters the room again, cleaned up and wearing a comfortable red plaid flannel, she just has to take him in for a second. Before Jo can kick her leg again, someone knocks on the glass window from outside the cafeteria. Everyone looks up at the doorway when an old friend of Bobby’s appears.      “Well, I'll be damned,” Ellen says, delighted. “If it ain't Rufus Turner.”      The African American with a pearl white smile and a rascal look in his eyes enters the cafeteria.      “Ellen Singer, you haven't changed a bit.” Rufus takes his hat off for her, but then he turns to face her husband at the head of the table. “But you on the other hand,” he pats Bobby on the back, “- you got old.”      The joke attracts a laugh from the others.      “Good to see you too, Rufus,” the ranch owner responds.      “Grab a plate and dig in. There’s plenty,” Ellen offers.      “I’d love to, but if you don't mind, I wanna get down to business. I've got places to be later.” He puts his hat back on and turns to the rest of the company. “Mind if I steal him for a bit?”      “By all means, steal away.” Ellen smiles politely.      Bobby gets up and excuses himself. When he has left the room, the workers finish their breakfast. Nobody says anything, and although Y/N doesn't understand what has caused the grim mood, she keeps her mouth shut. Instead, she takes in the people surrounding her. Jo, Ellen, and Dean seem to ignore the elephant in the room, while Garth, Benny and Ash exchange puzzled looks. Rufus’s visit to the ranch has stirred things up. Who is he? A business partner? A trader, maybe?           When the break is over and the crew gets back to work, the air is more suffocating than it is on a hot day. It has nothing to do with the weather, though.      “Why is Bobby selling stock?”      It’s Ash who asks as the gang walks down to the paddocks between the stables. The question breaks the silence, but it also adds to the tension. Jo and Dean exchange a look, but both keep quiet, which isn’t sufficient for the worker with the odd haircut.      “That’s why Rufus is here, ain’t it?” Ash pushes, a worry in his tone that seems foreign for the carefree guy.       The head wrangler sighs and turns to his friend.       “Look, business has been slow, y’all know that. Rufus is here to discuss the value of the cattle, to explore our options,” Dean tries to reassure not just him, but the rest of his staff.      When he can read from Ash’s face that his reassurance doesn’t have much effect, he adds a few words he might regret later.  “No need to worry just yet. We’ll figure it out. Now let’s get to work.”      And so everyone does, some left with a few questions, but the leader of the team has managed to take away most of the concern. All this time, the intern hasn’t said a word. The young woman with a master’s degree in business and a nose for bullcrap only observes. She observes Dean, when he glances at his cousin, troubled, right after Ash walks off to fill the hay barn in the main pastures. She observes Jo, who looks at the ground and keeps quiet, as the two of them walk over to the paddocks to turn the horses in. She observes Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner, who are seated on the back porch of the house, accompanied by a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, tied up in a dialogue that seems to be a negotiation more than it is a casual chat. She observes the handshake, the ‘glad to do business with you’ grin on Rufus’s face opposite of the defeat in the ranch owner’s eyes. So much for not needing to worry just yet.

     The early morning rain has cooled down the dusty lands and doesn’t allow the temperature to rise like it did the previous days. Clouds keep rolling in from the east, cutting off the sun. This weather suits Y/N better and she works extra hard now that her body doesn’t seem like it’s overheating. It gives her a good feeling that she is able to take some of the load from the other workers. Dean even allowed her to train two of the horses, since he had a meeting with Bobby. He didn’t return until an hour before supper. After dinner, Benny and Garth head to the shed to fix the tractor, that on top of everything else, started spilling oil. The rest of the crew is about to retreat back to the bunkhouse, when Bobby calls back one of the workers.      “Ash?” he says, his voice matching his serious expression. “Can you come into my office?”      “Sure thing, boss,” he responds, joining the ranch owner.      Dean can read from Ash’s facial expression that he’s uneasy, but doesn’t have a clue what is coming for him. The ranch hand who is in charge of the cattle probably assumes that Bobby is going to update him on the reason why Rufus was here. Shit, he wishes it was just a simple briefing. Poor bastard…      The head wrangler exhales as he walks on, shaking off the cold that hasn’t seemed to leave his body after the rainy morning. Jo follows him silently, kicking the clotty earth with her dragging feet, hands shoved down in the pockets of her denim jacket. Y/N is on his other side, wonderingly looking over at them every now and then. She has kept quiet long enough. So when they step up the stairs to the porch first, she drops the bomb.      “So, Ash is getting sacked, huh?”      Dean has stopped in his tracks and instantly shoots an angry glare at Jo. “You told her?!”      “I didn’t tell her jack shit!” she counters, insulted.       “She didn’t need to, Dean,” Y/N backs her up, having turned around before opening the front door. “Livestock sales have plummeted nationwide, yet Bobby is selling now, so times must be desperate. With no cattle to handle it’s only logical that Ash will be let go in order to cut down on costs. I have a business degree, remember? I can do the math. Here, you guys look like you can use these.”      During her flood of words, she had strolled to the fridge, taken out three beers, and popped the caps off with an opener. Not sure if he should be impressed or feel threatened by the intern’s knowledge, Dean takes the drink and has a swig of the brew. She’s right about more than a few things; he needed a beer.      “Is Bobby breaking it to him now?” she wonders.      Dean glances over at Jo, who leans back against the kitchen sink, nursing her bottle. It’s not something they would usually discuss with interns, but since she already seems to be fully aware of the situation and he trusts that she will keep this between them, he confirms with a nod.      “Damn…” Y/N ponders, biting her lip as her eyes drift away to nothing in particular. “How long has he been here?”      “For about five years now,” Jo thinks back, clearly sad about having to say goodbye to a good friend. “I can remember the day he arrived. He caught Dad’s eye at the Holbrook Rodeo, where he worked in the arena. He couldn’t keep a job long enough to rent himself a roof over his head, mostly because of his looks and his ‘fuck you’ attitude, but he was good with the bulls. That’s when Dad asked him to come work for him and for the first time, Ash found a place where he belonged. He’s been here ever since. Never stayed in one spot this long. Mom and Dad have a habit of taking the misfits under their wings.”      It’s quiet for a few long seconds, as Dean recalls Ash’s early days on the property. Then he goes back further, to the day he himself set foot on these lands, with nowhere else to go. They did exactly the same for him as they did for Ash; offered him a comfortable bed, warm food, a rewarding job. A safe haven where they didn’t have to worry about how to get through tomorrow, where they didn’t have to be scared. One would perhaps expect Bobby and Ellen to take Dean in, him being their nephew. But it didn’t matter that the funny looking bullfighter called Ash wasn’t related. He became family, too.      “How do you think he’s going to take it?”      It’s Y/N who breaks Dean’s train of thought.      He ponders for a moment before he answers. “I dunno. He’s a pretty chill guy these days, but this is so much more than just a job.”      Dean pauses, putting himself in Ash’s shoes for a moment. Who is he fooling? His friend is going to lose it.      “Guess we’re gonna find out in a moment,” Jo says, nodding at the portrait outside.      Y/N glances through the dirty window while Dean holds the bamboo fly curtain aside to step onto the porch. It’s Ash who approaches the bunkhouse, but he doesn’t have the swagger he usually has in his stride. The ranch hand is looking down at the ground, the soil he used to call home. Every muscle in his face tensed, balled fists move alongside him with each step. Dean watches the guy for a brief moment, then descends the stairs to meet with him, but Ash does not want any of it. Instead, his friend walks past him, dismissing the head wrangler.      “Ash. I--”      The words trigger something in the lean guy, because after taking two strides up the steps, he turns around, a pair of piercing eyes startling Dean.      “You knew, didn’t ya?” he questions, his voice heavy with frustration.      Dean needs a moment to recover, staring up at the cattle worker, but Ash doesn’t grant him that time.      “That whole ‘no need to worry, we’ll figure it out.’ It was bullshit and you know it. Hell, I ain’t surprised if you’re the one who decided that it was my ass to fire.”      There isn’t much Dean can say to that, because it’s true. He did know, he knew for a long time, and yes, it was him who told Bobby it had to be the man who’s standing before him right now.       “We…” Dean pauses to correct himself, because Ash is right; this is on him. “I didn’t have a choice.”       “Oh, but you did. Instead of telling me that things were gonna be A-okay, you could’ve told me what was gonna happen. But no, you were too fucking scared to look me in the eye and tell me the Goddamn truth,” the worker says accusingly.      Dean stares back at him, his jaw flexing, but then he looks away as he swallows down the guilt. He knew those words were going to bite him in the ass. When he straightens himself again, Jo has appeared in the doorway, with Y/N right behind her.      “Ash, we’re all sorry it went down as it did, and we wish it didn’t have to be like this--”      “Then why the fuck do I have to leave?!” he shouts at the daughter of the ranch owner, his eyes noticeably shimmering in the lights above the porch.      Jo isn’t impressed with his anger, on the contrary; she replies professionally calmly.       “I hate to see you go. Shit, we all do. But the ranch isn’t going to survive if Dad doesn’t cut costs,” she reminds him. “There’s barely any cattle left to maintain, and you were hired last.”      “Right. The ‘last in, first out’ rule. Then tell me, what the hell is  she  still doing here?”      Suddenly, the newest crewmember is dragged into the argument as Ash nods at Y/N. Her heart skips a beat when it dawns on her what he holds her accountable for; he thinks she stole his job. Shocked, Y/N looks at the man who directed the focus on her. It’s a side of him she didn’t know he had and is overwhelmed by the accusation, causing her mind to fail miserably when trying to form any kind of response. Feeling helpless and exposed, she glances at the other two, desperate for back up. Thankfully, the head wrangler got the message, because seeing Y/N’s expression change from compassionate to fearful, triggers something inside him.       “Y/N’s an intern,” Dean returns, the tone of his voice colder than a moment ago. “Y/N is still here because she doesn’t cost Bobby anything.”      But Ash disagrees. “She’s another mouth to fill, just like every single one of us. She has a horse here who needs a shit ton of feed--”      “- and she works hard for that,” Dean overrules him, staring him down. “Look, man. I know you’re pissed, I get it. But don’t you put this on her, it ain’t her fault.”       “Are you saying I don’t work hard for my pay?!” Ash snaps back angrily.      “I didn’t say that,” Dean rights, gesturing with a lowering hand to calm down. “I’m saying that down the line, Y/N is a free hand.”

     Ash scoffs at that, biting his lips as he looks away and clenches his fists, his knuckles pressed together in order to manage the exasperation. He’s so hurt and upset that he doesn’t even think about the consequences of the words that follow.       “Oh, she’s a free hand, alright,” he states, shooting the guy opposite of him a penetrating glare.       Jo gapes at Ash, mouth falling open, then turns her head to witness Y/N having the exact same reaction. Dean stares at Ash too, first in astonishment, wondering where he got the nerve to insinuate something like that. Within a second, that emotion is pushed aside by brewing anger. The need to defend her honor causes him to step towards Ash intimidatingly, but Jo gets in between before things escalate.      “Whoa, now! Can we just keep it cool and not get nasty?” she demands, having both Dean and Ash at arm’s length.       But Ash, apparently, isn’t done. “You’ve always been a screw around, man, but shit, I did not expect you to stab me in the back just to get in a girl’s pants,” he sneers, pushing Dean’s buttons and seriously applying for a punch in the face.      “This is fucking bullshit, Ash, and you know it!” Dean counters, so worked up over the allegation that his heart is beating out of his chest.       “Okay, that’s it! If you don’t shut your mouth right now I’m gonna pull out that mullet of yours!” Jo warns Ash before she turns to Dean. “And you need to walk it off, right now!”      The ranch owner’s daughter pushes him back gently in order to raise her finger at him sternly. He steps away, offering a little air to the suffocating clash, and so does Ash.      “Don’t bother, I’ll leave.” He scoffs. “That’s whatcha want, ain’t it?”       The cattle worker turns around, the rage slowly seeping from him, leaving the space for sadness and disappointment to fill. Y/N watches the guy, still mind-blown by all the words that were said, but now that a fight is avoided, she can only feel pity. The blame that he put on her and on Dean is only a response to his world crashing down on him. She cannot really condemn him for lashing out. After ten or more steps, the guy in a dirty shirt and a plaid jacket with the sleeves ripped off turns around. Normally everything about the guy is either hazardous or comical, depending on how well you know him, but not now. Not now that his eyes are glistening in pained emotion.     “This wasn’t just work, y’know. This is my life. This is home,” he says, his arms spread in desperation. “I thought that all of us here - that we were in this together. That we don’t turn our back on family.” He pauses, eyes fixed on Jo, then on Dean. He continues with a broken voice. “Y’all did exactly that.”      With those words, he turns away and heads off to his cattle, like he always does after dinner. Silenced, the three watch him leave, until Dean sighs and looks around lost, as if he hopes to find answers in the earth-colored gravel. He doesn’t look at Y/N, he’s doing everything to avoid her questioning, sympathetic gaze. When the air gets too thin to breathe, he walks away in the direction of the barn, off to his horses. The intern allows her eyes to linger on the defeated figure that becomes smaller as he drags his feet down the worn path to the stables, the grey sky above him that darkens by the minute only adding to the grim atmosphere. Instinctively, Y/N reaches for the handrail of the steps down the porch, intending to follow him, but Jo stops her.      “Let him be for a bit.”      Y/N halts and listens to her friend, then lets a breath slip from her dry lips. “So no one wins today, huh?”     “Nope. Not today,” Jo responds, moving through the doorway after throwing a glance at Ash’s silhouette in the far pasture. “Comin’? I have a bottle of something a-hell-of-a-lot-stronger-than-beer stashed somewhere.”       Y/N huffs and turns to join her. Jo pours her some rum in a jar, which she sips on silently as she looks out the window, watching the day end. But the alcohol cannot wash away her thoughts that are with the two ranch workers: the one who lost his friend, and the one who lost everything else as well.

Told you guys there was gonna be angst? Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nine here

#Ride With Me #Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean #Dean Winchester #Cowboy!Dean x reader #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester reader insert #Dean x Y/N #Dean Winchester x Y/N #SPN #Supernatural #Supernatural AU #SPN AU #dean winchester au #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfic #Dean fanfic #Kate Huntington

[skvaderarts]

Soliloquy Chapter 2:

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Otherwise, you can read the new chapter below. Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Reparations

Note: Thank you all for reading the first two parts of the story! I’m so touched by the reception the story has received from the fanbase! A huge thank you to Mallovarwen from FF.N and BeansWithBones as well as That_Random_Kid. Your comment, in particular, cracked me up and I spent several minutes laughing at it as I spent a late night working on this chapter to get this done on time. Thanks a bunch! That was just what I needed today. This chapter is for the three of you. I hope you enjoy it!

Was it possible for things to escalate any quicker than they just had? Not likely. In one single, fluid motion, Nero launched himself across the space between the van and the front steps. He grabbed Dante and Vergil by the face with his wing talons, slamming them back first into the stairs with devastating power. The sheer force of the impact was so strong that it completely stunned Dante, mentally and physically. Vergil, on the other hand, was taken completely off guard by this attack. In his state of immense anger towards the blond demoness, he had barely registered his son’s arrival before he found himself becoming violently acquainted with the front steps of his new home. 

The eldest Son of Sparda jumped to his feet almost as quickly as he had been snatched off of them, somehow even angrier than he had been moments ago. He made the rapid and decisive decision to skip any and all conversation and go straight to violence, unsheathing Yamato and tossing away the scabbard in a rare act of absolution. He wasn’t going to need it for what he planned to do next.

Unsure as to what the commotion was all about, Nico was just about to exit the van as the girls and Morrison onboarded, shouting for her to get clear. There was about to be enough collateral damage as it was, and they didn’t feel like adding the wily mechanic or her mobile workspace to that list. Or themselves, for that matter. Nico slammed the gas and threw the clutch into reverse, launching the van backward at a speed rapid enough to give everyone within it whiplash and vertigo simultaneously. And her timing couldn’t have been any better considering what happened next.

Nero unsheathed his beloved sword Red Queen from his back and revved the exceed throttle in both a preparatory action and a not so playful taunt. The blade glowed a vibrant red, the once gleaming metal now searing hot and ready to melt anything in its path like butter. Vergil’s own blade glowed a sinister shade of dark blue before bursting into blinding black and blue flames as he entered his own Devil Trigger state. The two descendants of Sparda leered at one another ragefully before launching themselves at jet propelled speeds towards one another, their flame coated blades connecting in an earth (and ear) shattering display of destructive power. Blue and red flames blasted skyward and out across the pavement in a wide arc around them, scorching everything in their path. The attack carried a powerful shockwave with it a half-second later, rattling the windows of several nearby buildings and vehicles. Dante shook his head, his ears and head still ringing from Nero’s initial slam attack. He leaped to his feet and over the wall of flames that would have stopped just shy of the front door to the office, and landed out of harm’s way. The younger Son of Sparda cracked his neck (mostly to relocate it) and groaned, shaking his head as he entered the fray. He needed to stop this before they leveled a whole city block or killed each other. Or more importantly, destroyed his office. Again.

Vergil and Nero planted their taloned feet into the cobblestone ground, tearing it up out of the earth as they pushed hard against one another, blades locked and sparking from the sheer friction of the contact between them. As Vergil bore down on the younger man, Nero slammed his blade against Yamato’s hard, breaking their blade connection and stepping backward, using the brief window provided by the lack of contact to deliver a brutal double footed kick to his father’s chest. The eldest twin flew back and slammed against the pavement, cracking several pavers and peeling them up as he slid against the hard ground. Vergil exhaled sharply, gritting his razor-sharp demonic teeth as he rapidly regained his footing and surged forward again, recalling Yamato’s sheath to his free hand. Okay, so maybe he was going to need it after all...

He slashed the blade down towards the broadside of Nero’s blade and the younger man blocked it, sliding back a few feet from the force of the sliding charge attack. Suddenly, Vergil rapidly sheathed the blade and withdrew it again, a black ball of darkness and precision cuts rocketing towards Nero. The youngest descent of Sparda stepped wide to avoid the phantom slashes, noting that Vergil now stood directly in his path. How on earth had he just done that?!  Vergil pressed towards him with a deadly barrage of thrusts and slashes that he just barely withstood, his eyes not even remotely able to keep up with every swipe. For every perceivable movement, there seemed to be several dozen more slashes that he couldn’t process, his father’s movements causing an afterimage that was disorienting and hard to combat. He needed to act. Now! 

Nero pushed forward and broke loose as he slashed upwards, launching them both skyward. He pirouetted in a series of arcing upward slashes, gaining additional altitude before using one of his demonic wing arms to grasp Vergil around the waist and send him careening towards the ground at speeds nearly fast enough to cause reentry burn. As soon as the older twin made impact with the cobblestone street, Nero streaked downward in a barreling spin, slamming down on him. Vergil managed to counter the attack at the very last second and sent Nero spiraling back into the side of the stone staircase, his back making impact with the wrought iron bars and bending them with a loud metal screech. Nero yelped, exiting his Devil Trigger as he gasped for breath in surprise and discomfort. If he were a weaker being, he would probably have just broken several bones from that impact alone. Just as Vergil was closing the space between them, Dante sent a shockwave comprised of several red beams of demonic energy slamming into him at a blistering speed, knocking his twin flat onto his back. Vergil sat up and moved to collect himself, but found his younger twin standing in front of him. Dante planted his boot firmly against Vergil’s chest, forcing him onto his back on the pavement again with enough force to shake a few more bricks loose. The twin in red then pointed his blade down at him and his gun in Nero’s general direction, not so subtly implying that this fight was now over and that he was ready to take either of them to task if they attempted to resume it.

“Alright, enough of this already!” Dante yelled at them both. He was clearly not amused. “Nero, feel like telling me why the hell I probably have a concussion right now?!”

Nero groaned in irritation and attempted to peel himself out of the metal bars that he found himself embedded into. No such luck. “Gee, I don’t know, Dante,” He yelled back, clearly no less pissed than when this had all started,”  Maybe because I just body slammed your sorry ass head first through your front steps?! Because if I was in a guessing mood, I’d say that’s why your empty head probably hurts right now!”

Dante let out a sound somewhere between a growl and snarl and fired a round from Ebony up into the air, for once not entertained by his nephew’s spitfire attitude. Maybe it was the rapid onset of the massive headache that he could feel creeping its way into his head (and the gunfire that had just made it several times worse), but he was not in the mood for this shit right now. “I’m not playing around, Nero. What the hell is your damage this time? You have a few screws loose or something?”

The young man with the white hair used both of his hands to pry the bars apart and slipped loose, using his newfound freedom to stand up and approach Dante. He left Red Queen laying on the ground, but the younger Son of Sparda kept his guard up. The younger man more than likely had Blue Rose on himself somewhere. He came to a stop less than three feet from his uncle, breathing heavily and probably still banged up from his rapid meet and greet with gravity a few moments ago. “What’s my damage, Dante?” Nero retorted defiantly,” Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been gone for like two fucking months and I thought you were dead! Or maybe the fact that this asshole,” Nero gestured towards his father who was still firmly planted under Dante’s boot on the ground,” is just walking around like he didn’t unleash some blood-sucking demon plant from hell and destroy a whole goddamn city because he got bored or upset or some shit! Do you have any idea, any idea at all, how crazy shit has been since you jumped your crazy ass into hell and left me up here to fix everything?! Any idea how much sleep I’ve lost wondering if your stupid old ass was ever coming back?!”

Nero leaned forward and put a hand on his upper thigh, breathing more rapidly and unsteadily than he had been a moment before. He reached up with his free hand and wiped his eyes, trailing the shimmering remnants of tears he hadn’t yet shed across his face. He trembled ever so slightly before looking back up at Dante, the tears he had tried to blink away now running freely down his face in thin ribbons. He sniffed, trying to regain his composure but failing before the anger left him and he spoke in a quieter, more anguished tone of voice. “... Do you have any idea how worried about you I’ve been, Dante?” Nero was clearly on the verge of falling apart as he spoke. He was well past his emotional limit for the day.” I thought I was never going to see you again, you fucking prick! You can’t just pull some shit like that and leave me here alone!”

Any and all anger and irritation that Dante had left in him dissipated instantly. Nero’s trembling intensified and he shuddered, trying and failing to compose himself. He wiped his face yet again in an attempt to hide the fact that he was near to breaking down and crying, but any hope of hiding how he truly felt was completely gone at this point. Dante felt a powerful wave of guilt wash over him as he took a step forward and placed his hand on his nephew’s shoulder, completely at a loss for words. “... Nero…”

In a move that took Dante totally off guard, Nero misinterpreted his attempt to calm him for an invitation and embraced him, burying his tear-stained face into the older man’s shoulder. Now free of the ability to see Dante’s reaction, he allowed himself to release his emotions fully, stifling his pained sobs against his uncle’s battle-worn leather coat. Dante stood for a moment in surprise before opting to give the younger man a few tentative pats on the shoulder. He had never seen Nero so upset and he wasn’t at all equipped to deal with this. But regardless, he hated knowing he had caused this.

Vergil had risen to his feel once again during the commotion, having been freed from his place under his twin’s boot. Although he wanted to be furious with him for what he had just done, the eldest Son of Sparda found himself incapable of doing so. He found himself mesmerized by the scene unfolding before him, unsure of how to proceed or process how he felt about seeing Nero in such a state. He felt… something, but he wasn’t sure what word to put to it, and that made him uncomfortable, to say the least. Thankfully, after a long, painful moment, Nero collected himself and pulled away from Dante, thoroughly done with this entire situation. He turned away and walked towards the front steps, sitting down on them and letting out a long, steadying breath before making eye contact with his uncle again. “... Just don’t pull something like that again, or I’ll come down there and personally beat your ass myself. You got it?”

Dante shook his head and scoffed lightly, a look of semi sad bemusement crossing his face. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Nero growled and pointed at him as if to emphasize his point. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that shit, old man?! We’ve been through this!”

Dante laughed as Nero groaned in displeasure. The younger man then turned to Vergil who was watching his whole debacle, entirely lost as to what to say or do at this point. “And as for you, douchebag,” Nero said in a manner so matter of fact that the casual passer-by might actually mistake that was his father’s name,” What the fuck do you think you’re doing back here after all that shit you pulled in Redgrave?”

Vergil repressed the urge to roll his eyes, half amused and half befuddled by his son’s outrageous behavior. “My apologies, but every reservation in the underworld was taken, so I had to resort to plan B.”

Nero stared at Vergil, thoroughly unamused by his father’s answer. He glanced towards Dante and gestured towards Vergil, disregarding the older twin’s sarcastic comeback. “Does he actually think he’s funny?”

Dante chuckled under his breath, shrugging playfully. “Who knows? You’d have to ask him. I hope not, though, because he’s definitely not.”

“Quiet. Both of you.” Vergil virtually growled at them both as he headed towards the steps,” I’ve had enough pleasantries for one lifetime. If I am not mistaken, before this little mishap occurred, you were going to show me around, were you not, Dante?”

Dante held up his hands in an act of surrender before following his twin to the bottom of the steps. Nero took his sweet time standing up, clearly trying to test Vergil’s already depleted patience reserves. After he moved, Nero glanced over at the van. It had lodged itself in a corner between the Devil May Cry agency building and the building it was connected to diagonally. The seemingly indestructible vehicle had more than likely lodged itself there during the blast. Morrison and the girls were disembarking. Going to check on them seemed like a decent idea. “You're just mad you lost again.” He said as he headed over towards the car.

Vergil glanced back over his shoulder, clearly incensed by the comment. “I won’t lose next time, child.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say.” Nero shouted over his shoulder before jogging off towards the van. Vergil leered in disapproval before turning back towards his twin. Dante was repressing a snicker. “You’re the reason he’s like this, you do realize that.”

At that comment, Dante burst into an almost hysterical fit of laughter. “Oh no, he was like that when I found him, Vergil! That attitude is all your fault! I guess the hardass gene comes from your side of the gene pool.”

Vergil shook his head and spared Nero a final glance before stepping towards the front door. “Just open the godforsaken front door, Dante!”

-~-

For the first time in what seemed like decades, the front office was actually clean. Considering the fact that Lady and Trish had more than likely been waiting here for Dante to return, that wasn’t too shocking to the youngest Son of Sparda, but it still wasn’t something he was accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t so much that he hated to clean (which he kind of did) or that he enjoyed living in squalor, it was just that he rather do literally anything else than tidy up around the office. His desk was still in the exact same place that he’d left it, and no effort had been put into redecorating since he’d left. Even the seemingly indestructible jukebox was still functional. Well, presumably. There was no power at the moment, so they couldn’t check.

While Dante checked his desk to make sure that everything was still in order, Vergil stalked around the office. The eldest of the two twins seemed to be examining the space quietly, assessing things for himself. Considering the events of the last few minutes -if not the last few days- Dante was just glad that things were so calm once again. It was good for his mental state. And the headache that he still hadn’t shaken.

Thanks, Nero.

As if he had heard his name called or something, the front doors to the office opened a moment later and in walked Nero, seemingly calm and collected again. Despite the emotionally charged fight that had taken place less than fifteen minutes prior, he seemed to be in high spirits. But then again, beating the ever-loving hell out of Vergil did that to a person sometimes. He dared even call it therapeutic. 

The younger man walked across the room and placed his blade onto one of the weapon mounts on the wall before flopping down into the desk chair, folding his legs up onto the desk. Dante gave him a sideways glance, razing an eyebrow before grabbing the back of the chair and catapulting Nero from it, sending the white-haired youth rolling across the floor. Nero collected himself and stood up, repressing the urge to snicker to himself at Dante’s response. Somehow he just knew he’d do something like that. “Ya know, you could’ve just asked me to stand up.”

Dante spared him a glance from his position at the desk. He had taken Nero’s place in the chair and was filing through a stack of old mail, shaking his head at the number of bills he’d received. “Oh, I know I could’ve.”

Nero scoffed playfully and walked over to one of the couches, flopping down onto it. He stretched his arms out over his head and let his legs hang over the armrest, seemingly making himself comfortable. A moment later, every electronic device in the house came roaring back to life, producing a litany of loud noises. Vergil glanced up from his current place on the stairs, his eyes scanning the space for the source of the noise. After locating it, he filed past Nero on the couch and walked over to the tv. It was older, perhaps some sort of cathode display? Regardless, Vergil didn’t plan on watching it, and the noise was interrupting his otherwise serene mood.

The younger man raised his head and glanced over at Vergil, semi startled by his presence. “Where the hell were you this whole time? The bathroom?”

Vergil didn’t bother to look up from his place in front of the tv. “I do not know where the bathroom even is in this place, child.”

Nero was going to make a snarky comeback when a thought occurred to him. He turned to face Dante, the older man still going through his mail with a discontent look on his face. “Hey, Dante, I have a question.”

Dante spared him a quick glance before returning his focus to the envelopes. Some of them had past-due notices on them in red letters. Wonderful. “You and me both. For starters, how the hell is the power even on right now? I have at least twelve power bills in this stack alone with past due stickers on them!”

Nero stood up and headed past Dante’s office towards the back kitchen. Now that the power was on, he could find the refrigerator. “Don’t worry about that. I had Morrison take care of it on his way out of town. Said something about him and the others needing to check something out in the next town over. Nico’s checking out the van. She’ll probably be in soon.”

A look of surprise crossed Dante’s face at the younger man’s statement. He glanced between Nero and the pile of bills on the table, shuffling them until he located the most recent bill. He scanned over it briefly and then glanced back over at Nero, somehow even more bewildered than he had been a moment ago. “You know she’s going to kill you for that, right?”

Nero returned to the room empty-handed. The kitchen had been a bust. The closest thing to food in this house were the two empty pizza boxes on the front desk. Somehow he was more irritated with himself for expecting a different outcome than he was about the fact that he was practically starving to death from the lack of sustenance. “It’s fine, I talked to her about it. The water and gas should be back on, too. Just keep your fucking bills paid this time, damn it!”

Dante shook his head in disbelief before shooting Nero an appreciative glance. He was the only person that he could think of who would bodyslam someone into the pavement one moment and then pay their utility bills the next. Nero was truly something else. “I’m never going to understand where you got the cash from to do that. I mean, don’t you have two kids to feed?”

Nero held up three fingers, shaking his head. “Last time I checked, it was three. And I said don’t worry about it, ok? I’ve got this.”

At that, Vergil gave up on figuring out which of the seemingly endless knobs on this arcane contraption actually turned it off and unplugged it from the wall, solving the simple issue in the most Vergil way possible. No, he couldn’t have just heard him correctly. “... Did you just… You have three children, Nero?”

Nero watched Vergil approach from across the room, having nearly forgotten that he was still in the common area due to his silence. For some undisclosed reason, he was the only person present who insisted upon toting his blade around the building as if he thought that something would attack him here. Perhaps he did think that, considering how much time he’d supposedly spent in the underworld from what Nero had heard. Nero took a moment to consider the question, debating the merits of letting Vergil know about his personal life. But then again, what harm could come from him knowing? “Yea, three boys. Kyrie brought them home from the orphanage a while back since they didn’t have anywhere else to go while the repairs were going on. When it was time to send them back, she couldn’t make herself let them go so we just decided to keep 'em’.” Nero drifted off for a moment, recalling the fond memory. He then returned his attention to Dante.” But yea. So, why doesn’t he know where the bathroom is? Like, you’ve basically lived here forever, right? I don’t get it.”

And awkward silence blanked the room at the twins both considered the ramifications of such an innocent question. Vergil allowed himself to lean against the desk, earning him a raised eyebrow from his younger twin. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed that Vergil was attempting to relax. But was he even physically capable of doing that? Dante wasn’t banking on it. 

“Because I’ve never been here before,” Vergil answered succinctly. It was the truth, but admittedly, he didn’t grasp the significance of the statement until after he’d spoken the words. In at least two decades of Dante calling this office home, Vergil had never come to visit. Admittedly, they had not been on good (or even amicable terms) until now, but it had never occurred to him, much like it hadn’t occurred to him to come and visit, that he hadn’t made an effort to spend any meaningful time here and try to work things out with his younger twin.

Nero glanced between them, a look of disbelief and disappointment on his face. “How is that even- you know what? Nevermind. I’m not even gonna ask.” Nero shook his head before addressing Vergil again.”Why’d you wanna know anyway? What, did you think I was too young to have more than one kid or something?” Nero teased the subject casually. He didn’t honestly care what Vergil -or anyone else for that matter- thought about the subject. They were good children and he enjoyed having them around, despite the fact that they seemed to eat their weight in food on a daily basis.

Vergil seemed unfazed by the response he’d been given. “Yes. I did think that. At least, biologically.”

Dante laughed sarcastically at his brother’s response, drawing the puzzled gazes of both of his relatives. “Oh, your one to talk, Vergil. You did the same thing, and they are probably even closer together than his kids are!”

If looks could kill, Dante’s soul would have literally flown out of his body and plunged straight into hell. Vergil stared at him with a look he could only describe as blind horror and rage as he tried to process the ramification of Dante’s statement in front of Nero. This was not the time to have this conversation. Nero looked at them both in obvious confusion, completely unsure as to how to process his uncle’s statement. “Dante, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Dante felt a profound sense of regret wash over him as he realized the can of worms that he had just opened. A quick glance at Vergil confirmed his initial suspicion that his twin had seemingly turned a few shades paler. The eldest Son of Sparda had hoped that the statement would go over his son’s head, but Nero wasn’t quite as clueless as he’d hoped. There was no avoiding this topic of conversation, then.

Vergil let out a long sigh and accepted his defeat, along with the inevitable ass-kicking he was certainly about to receive. Additionally, he accepted the fact that he deserved it as well. He had never related to a defendant on trial so much in his entire life as he did at this very moment. “... You have a sibling.”

Nero stared at him blankly, every gear in his brain slamming to a stop and his cognitive abilities fled him. The silence that fell over the room was physically painful. After a prolonged period of time enduring the mounting sense of discomfort, Vergil decided to stop dodging the inevitable fight that was about to unfold and elaborate on his previous statement. “Moreover... you have a brother. The two of you are already well-acquainted from what I understand.”

The Sons of Sparda watched Nero scour his mind, combing it for a possible candidate. And they could also see the precise moment that he hit the jackpot. Nero’s state of utter disbelief was as threatening as it was uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of, and as he exhaled a tentative breath, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly, seeming to understand before he even asked. “It’s fucking V, isn’t it?”

Vergil nodded once as if not moving would somehow keep the eruption of emotion threatening to escape Nero at bay. Nero took a deep breath and growled under breath, unsure of how to process what he had just learned. He didn’t need Vergil’s confirmation. In some small measure, he just knew something had been different about him from the moment they had first met in his bedroom in Fortuna three months ago. Vergil simply waited for his son’s response. He did not fear Nero, but he acknowledged the destructive power that he possessed and the fact that he may very well never speak to him again after learning the truth. But a part of him dared hope for a different outcome despite everything.

“I guess I should rephrase that, shouldn’t I,” Nero said, a certain uncanny darkness tinting his tone of voice,” I had a brother. At least until whatever the hell you did to him happened.” The calm fury in his voice made the statement carry so much additional weight that it was unreal. “So unless whatever you did to him you can undo, I guess I’ve been downgraded to only child status again. I can’t fucking believe you.”

Vergil dwelled on Nero’s statement in silence. He seemed to consider something for a long time before carefully speaking. “... I never intended for him to meet such a fate. In truth, his involvement in my affairs was never planned from the start and if I could undo what has been done…” Vergil stopped dead in his tracks, a metaphorical lightbulb coming on in his head. In that very instant, something had occurred to him. An idea that he could not yet elaborate on, but also one that might have potential nonetheless. Dante and Nero both looked at him questioningly, wondering what part of his mind had come undone at that moment.

Vergil adjusted his coat and his posture, no longer leaning against the edge of the desk. He nodded to himself once before speaking, as if to confirm something to himself. “... There may be something that could be done about what you suggested. But first, I need to find her. It has been some time now, and I do not know if she still resides where I last visited her.”

Dante sat up straight in his chair, now more invested in this conversation than he had been before his brother had dared suggest something so outlandish.”Her who?”

Nero seemed to share Dante’s sentiment, although in a less agreeable state. Vergil sighed. Of all the bridges he had burned over the years, he never thought this would be the one he would come to regret the most. “Magnolia”.

Note: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Hopefully, I haven’t lost any of you, but as I mentioned before this is a cannon divergent au. A while back, I did a questionnaire, and over half of the participants said that this was an idea that they personally liked, so I can only hope that you will keep reading to see what happens next! I hope to do two more chapters next week, one on Wednesday and one on Friday, but at the very least the Friday release is always guaranteed for this fic. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you don’t like the direction, I totally understand. Just please, don’t send me hate mail. Thanks!

#Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry V #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Dante Devil May Cry #Dante Devil May Cry 5 #Dante Devil May Cry V #Dante DMC #Dante DMC5 #Dante DMCV #Nero Devil may Cry #Nero Devil May Cry 5 #Nero Devil May Cry V #Nero DMC #Nero DMC5 #Nero DMCV #Vergil Devil May Cry #Vergil Devil May Cry 5 #Vergil Devil May Cry V #Vergil DMC #Vergil DMC5 #Vergil DMCV #Post DMC5 #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Post DMCV #Post Devil May Cry V #Dante Sparda #Nero Sparda

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

A Room Full of Vampires

A Drawfee Fanfiction

John’s sister was the lamest best friend he ever had. 

They had planned to go to the movies for a week now, after months of John begging her to go with him. She only caved because this double feature landed on his birthday, and he promised she’d get out of buying him a gift if she went. 

Cheapskate she was, Ava readily agreed. 

For the past few days, he’d been so excited about it. He planned on going all out at the snack bar, he’d bring a blanket, the works. It would be like when they were kids and they used to watch movies in blanket forts when their parents went on dates. 

Considering John’s birthday last year was the worst thing that happened to him, he deserved to have some serious nostalgic fun on this one. 

But that morning, when he woke up to only one text, all it said was a weak apology that she couldn’t make it because her boyfriend had a work event. Then about twenty minutes later she added a proper, “Happy Birthday”. 

Cool. First birthday single in ten years and not even his sister wanted to spend the day with him. It was fine. 

Totally fine. 

However, when it was 7 pm and John hadn’t left his house and had totally demolished a pint of red velvet ice cream, he concluded that maybe it wasn’t fine. 

By the time the first movie of his fantasized double feature was almost over, John was pretty damn sick of staring down the liter of Mountain Dew and feeling sorry for himself. He looked in the mirror. Sure his hair was a mess and he still was wearing yesterday’s clothes, but he was a perfectly capable 26-year-old man. If he wanted to go to the movies on his birthday, he could go all by himself, dammit. 

Feeling a surge of self-confidence (possibly fueled by his energy drink overdose) he vibed with the electricity running under his skin. That’s right. He was an averagely attractive, somewhat active, not dead human. He could go out and do anything!

Granted, he couldn’t fly. He caught himself a taxi the second he got outside. He wasn’t an animal. 

When he reached the theater, the box office was derelict, save an arguing couple buying tickets. In the dark night, the platinum blonde, with arguably fabulous long hair, glistened under the bright lights. The duo looked a lot fancier than him, but sometimes people cosplayed to the theaters, so that’s what he figured was going on. Since the second feature was Cats, maybe they just really liked musicals and wanted to get their Phantom of the Opera on. He just sorta shrugged it off and waited for them to be done. 

But their bickering was pretty interesting. “Bertrand, we were supposed to go to an elaborate dinner tonight. But instead, you stayed at work late, missed our reservations, and you’re trying to make it up to me by taking me to a half-finished theater event? I’m not a dog, your scraps aren’t enough for me.”

“Bastian, I am trying to make it up to you. You love Cats. You’ve always loved Cats. You loved Cats before it even was on Broadway. This should be a fun substitute.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to see Sonic the Hedgedog, too.”

“It’s hedgehog, love.”

“Whatever.” The blonde, named Bastian, crossed his arms and stared at the movie posters, waiting for Bertrand to finish paying. 

While John loved himself a good drama, the awkwardness of hearing a couple argue also made him want to shrivel up inside and die. On a normal day, that would’ve been enough to make him go home. 

But not today.

Today was his birthday and he was going to see a movie, dammit. 

After the way-too-fashionable men walked away, John walked up to the dead-eyed teenager. “One for the double feature.”

“What is up with you people, coming half-way through the show?”

He didn’t mean to, but John bristled from the inside out. Caffeine rage was no joke. “I am an adult and I live my life in a way that makes me happy. I look like a happy man, don’t I?”

“I don’t think I wanna answer that.” Handing over his tickets, the teen grimaced. “Enjoy the show, dude.”

John didn’t mean to get so rattled, so he gave the guy an awkward wave and hoped that he never met him again. 

Okay, all the chaos had to be over now. He was going to walk into that theater, enjoy this damned movie, and prove that he was perfectly fine on his own. He didn’t need Ava or Stacy or anyone to make his birthday a good one. He was a 26-year-old man and--

Just as John pushed the doors to the theater open, he saw the couple from before standing in front of all the aisles, accompanied by two other oddly dressed men, four children, a bat, and a dog with...Wings?

Though John had been pumping his arms pretty intently, a man on a mission, he stopped dead. 

All the way down the aisles, Bertrand said, “So that’s why I knew this double feature was happening.”

Behind the kids, the guy with a big cloak threw open his arms and yelled, “Boo!” They all jumped and squealed, but then threw themselves into his arms. 

By all accounts, that should’ve been more than enough for John to leave. There was also a fair shot that, unless he was absolutely losing his mind, he might’ve just walked into a roomful of vampires. Or vampire cosplayers, at the very least, which wouldn’t be the strangest thing he walked in on. After all, nothing would ever beat Stacy getting bent over by a guy in a Teletubby costume. 

He still had no clue what the guy’s face even looked like. 

Cringing, John instead focused on watching the bizarre, but obviously happy family banter, hug, and bicker. Even the angry couple still obviously was very much in love with each other. Though he could hear Bastian’s petty comments all the way up the stairs, the guy kept making sure Bertrand never stepped on his own cloak. It was horribly sweet, even if it made him feel so much more alone. 

Sitting down, he accepted that his night couldn’t get any weirder, so he might as well accept it. 

The parents of the kids walked over to Bertrand and Bastian. The one who looked like he got hair tips from Doc Brown was patting Bertrand on the head. “So happy to have my older brother show up to our family outing!”

“It wasn’t on purpose, Victor.” 

The shorter, more cartoonish guy shrugged. “Either way, Valentino and I are happy to see you. And so are the kids! Desdemona has been dying to see her “shiny-headed uncle”.” 

“Balding is a completely natural part of the male aging process. I just unfortunately got stuck in the middle of it.” 

Just as Victor opened his mouth, the lights dimmed. “Ooh! Time for the movie to start. Sit with us!” 

Bastian patted Bertrand’s shoulder and he did this deep sigh, but he did it with such ease that it must be muscle memory from years of annoyance. John remembered when he and Ava used to have tics like that. They texted every other day, but the last time he saw her in person had to be months ago. 

He didn’t even know what color her hair was right now. Knowing her, it probably changed a few times since the purple he saw last. 

Even though Cats started up, and the CGI was a disturbing kind of mesmerizing, John couldn’t keep his eyes off the family in the first few rows. The way Bastian and Bertrand held each other’s sleeves was endearing. The little girl next to Bertrand kept leaning over and asking him questions, but no matter how tense he looked, it seemed like he always answered them. And while he didn’t quite understand what was happening, the one named Valentino held the tiny bat like it was a sweet, sleepy toddler. 

His chest started to hurt, looking at them, but he also couldn’t look away. Vampire cosplayers or whatever, they were family. It made his own fingers feel so cold, so empty and killed his Mountain Dew buzz completely. 

John looked to his own left and right and wondered how long it’d been since he got used to being alone. Those last few months with Stacy weren’t the best, and Ava drifted when--

Looking down at Victor and Valentino giggling and covering their kids’ eyes when the Cats were a little too sensual, he knew what the answer was: Ava had been distant since they lost their own version of those two. 

When Ava and John’s parents died, it had been so sudden. Before that, they spent so much time together. Ava was his best friend, over at his apartment every few days for ramen or advice or to make him try out some new recipe she had. Mom and Dad would take them to farmer’s markets and book drives, supporting their dreams in their own, weird ways. And they all used to really love mini golf, no matter how dumb that was. 

He couldn't remember the last time Ava stopped by his book store, even just to say hi.

Maybe he had a lot more going on than just being lonely; maybe Ava did, too. 

Before John could really register what was going on, the lights were coming up and it felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. His cheeks got wet and his lungs got so full of loneliness that they didn’t know they were a pair. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay in this dark theater, living vicariously through this vampire family a little longer. 

But crying in a near-empty movie theater doesn’t go unnoticed for long. “Um, sir? Are you okay?” The one named Victor was suddenly in front of him, touching his shoulder, with these kind, however dark and kinda creepy, eyes. 

If this was a normal day, John would smile and play it off.

But today was his birthday, dammit. 

Shaking his head, John said, ‘No.” 

Behind him, the entire vampire family had pooled, all looking at him with their own dark, kinda creepy eyes. John wasn’t really in a place to judge, though, considering his were probably all puffy. 

Victor asked, “Mind if I ask what it’s about?”

“You all are just a really beautiful family.” John sniffled and tried to rub away as many tears as he could. While the honesty felt nice, there was only so much shamelessness his very embarrassing soul could handle. “I think I got a little jealous.”

“Well, if you want, you can come join us for midnight mini-golf. The night has just started for us, and it’s our little girl’s birthday. The more the merrier.”

John couldn’t help but laugh. “Mine, too.”

“Even better!” Victor stood up and offered John a hand. He took it. 

As they passed the rest of the group, Valentino was rounding up the kids, Bastian was knuckling away a tear, and Bertrand was frowning. But it was the kind of way someone frowned when they knew they were about to be forced to enjoy something that they totally would enjoy, but hated to admit it. 

With a knowing smirk, Victor asked, “Coming to mini-golf, Bertrand? It’s Desi and this young man’s birthday, after all.”

Bastian added, “I won’t be so completely annoyed with you anymore if we do.” 

Bertrand scoffed in defeat. “Fine.”

And then John followed the roomful of vampires to mini-golf, and chose to actively ignore the fact none of their reflections showed up in any of the water features and the liquid in their water bottles was red. It was easier to focus on the way they all smiled together under the moonlight. 

Tonight was his birthday, and he was going to enjoy it with a real, live family (sort of). 

He’d call Ava in the morning. They had a lot to talk about.

#Drawfee #Drawfee fanfiction #A Room Full of Vampires #fanfiction #I'm sorry #family angst

[desperationandgin]

Deep as the Road is Long (Part II, Chapter 16)

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read on: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: Surprise! A bonus chapter. I realize I haven't gone through and replied to anyone's comments for the last chapter that was posted. I need to and I will, but in the meantime, I wanted to offer a chapter early as my sincere and heartfelt gratitude. The feedback has been passionate all the way around regarding this story whether readers have been frustrated with Jamie, sad for him (sad for both of them) or firmly on Claire's side. I know I've said this before, but I really didn't think anyone would ever read a story with this specific subject matter; I was just writing it for me. So, I'm really touched and floored at the reception of it all. Here's hoping I stick the landing, and here's to goodbye to Part 2! 

Thank you all so, so much from the bottom of my heart. Part 3 begins on Thursday.

December 2016

When the monitors began to pick up the rhythm in which they beeped, when Faith’s breathing changed, Claire knew. She’d yelled, that much she remembers, the screaming for Jamie, for someone to find him. Without thinking, she’d climbed right onto the bed with the little girl, reached out to touch her cheek, to beg her not to go, not yet. There were no life-saving measures performed; that hurdle and those signatures from Jamie to not resuscitate had been taken care of two weeks ago. And so, all Claire could do was hold Faith as she took her final breath, unable to process that it happened, that she was gone. The only sound was the single tone until Jamie thundered in, looking like a complete mad man, eyes wild as he took in the scene in front of him. Never in her life had she felt so much like nothing, trying to apologize while cradling his dead daughter.

Eventually, she’d moved so that he could take over, pulling Faith to his body and crying in a way that was so loud and so guttural Claire thought he might die, too. In the immediate days afterward, she tried telling herself she’d lost patients before, that she’d been the witness to more parents’ tears of agony than she could remember, but even with that thought, she knew this was different. Different because she’d started to fall in love with Jamie and she already loved Faith. The pain, at that time, was unmatched by anything she’d ever felt in her life. Even her husband’s death. When the police notified her of Frank’s accident she’d felt numb, felt nothing for such a long time. When it happened, she couldn’t imagine anything that would ever feel worse.

She learned after Faith’s funeral, there’s always a worse.

She’d been able to feel it, the shift between her and Jamie. Claire knew it was only a matter of time before he told her to go. To his credit, he never said that, exactly.

Your best wasna good enough.

When he said it she’d known he was right; the rest of the fight (could she even call it that?) was a blur to her, registering his words and letting them settle on her heart. After getting on the plane back home, she’d cried (her poor seatmate) until the flight attendant brought whisky minis and an extra pillow. Sleep for the duration of the flight was fitful, but once she was home she’d collapsed in bed and hadn’t moved for twelve hours. The harsh light of day only served to bring into focus what she couldn’t do anymore: treat terminally ill children. Not until Faith died in her arms did Claire realize how many devastating moments she had already been witness to, and couldn’t bear the idea of going through more. She hadn’t stopped second-guessing herself, wondering if she’d done the right thing, if the treatment had been the right course. For an entire day, she’d pored over Faith’s chart and all of her medical records; it did nothing to help, nothing to ease Claire’s mind. She should have recommended surgery or donor stem-cells; anything but what she’d done.

The doubt hadn’t left by the time she returned to work and she knew the second she stepped foot in her office that this branch of medicine wasn’t something she could physically do anymore. That was the day she spoke to her direct superior and decided to take a leave of absence at the hospital, knowing upon her return (if she returned) it wouldn’t be to that wing. All of her current patients and courses of treatment were explained and passed on to the only doctor she knew would give the same level of care - Joe Abernathy. He was a good man, and as they’d hugged, he’d kissed the side of her head, knowing (even if he didn’t know) this last death had done a number on her. With one more sweep of her office, Claire’d left, gone home, and hadn’t returned. She’d always been good with money; it was the one thing her Uncle Lamb had never worried over in regards to her well-being. She had the rest of Lamb’s money to live on for a while, everything she’d inherited when he died, along with Frank’s life insurance money. All she’d done with the latter was pay for the funeral, everything else has been in a savings account, waiting for the day it could be put to good use.

June was spent doing as little as possible, not letting herself drink anymore but not doing much else in the self-care department. Tears seemed to turn on like a switch being flipped; dinner one night was pizza ordered in, and all it’d done was make her sob for two hours before going to bed without eating a single slice.

In July, she decided she wasn’t ready, that going to work wasn’t something she could stomach yet, and so she’d turned in her phone, the phone that technically belonged to the hospital. When she’d finally made the decision to replace it she was asked if all of her contacts should be imported to her new device, if her photos should be. With hesitation, she’d finally said yes to keeping everything; photos of Faith and Jamie. Jamie’s number. She’d kept it all even though looking at the pictures did nothing but hurt.

Finally, in August, Claire knew she couldn’t avoid making an income again, and so she’d applied for and accepted a job as a general practitioner in a pediatrician’s office. Sore throats and objects stuffed in noses, healthy babies at normal checkups, that’s what she could handle. It worked out, it eased her mind, and slowly she fell into a routine again that was hardly living. She existed in the world, and it would have to be enough. She wasn’t making decisions anyone put all of their hope into, she didn’t have to watch anyone suffer because she did something wrong. Weeks passed; she went to work, saw her patients, and went home. Forgiving herself was slow going, but eventually, the pressure in her chest eased just a little.

And then Jamie called.

It was early on an October morning; Fridays the doctor’s office was closed, so she was home when his name flashed on her caller ID. Jesus H. Christ. Mostly, she’d listened after she picked up. His words registered, that he didn’t truly blame her, but the way he’d looked at her when he said it--he’d meant it then. Maybe he didn’t believe it anymore, but he had then. She heard him say she hadn’t let him down around the same time she’d started to cry. He promised to call again, and he had. He’d called the next day, then the next. Sometimes they didn’t say much, just sat on the line with static between them. Other times they spoke in circles around Faith, not saying her name, but remembering.

By the time December rolls around, they’ve spoken every single night since late October, never missing, even if the conversations are short. They FaceTime every now and again, and when her phone rings today, she can see it’s for video. Looking at herself in her phone camera she groans at hair that’s a mess piled on top of her head, the reading glasses she’s wearing and the ratty t-shirt with holes she has on. He’s caught her cleaning, but still, she accepts the call.

“Good morning,” she greets him, holding the phone out. She has to puzzle out what’s filling the screen on his end, tilting her head from side to side before giving up. “What am I looking at?”

Jamie’s face finally comes into view and he sits back. She recognizes the room he’s in, the library at Lallybroch with all of its old books and secrets. “Afternoon, technically,” he corrects for his own time zone. Then, he shows her the book she’d had an extreme close-up of. “I’ve been going through the books, trying to make some sort of catalog so we know what we have,” he explains. “And this one, well. I thought perhaps ye might like it as a gift.”

She can see the author is e.e. cummings and raises an eyebrow. “A gift for me, really?”

“Aye. Because it’s an original edition.”

That gets her full attention, and Claire frowns in disbelief. “Jamie, why would you give that to me? You should keep it. That has to be valuable, or at least mean something to your family.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I thought that, until I started to read and--” he pauses, looking down at the book in his hand now, swallowing.

“What, Jamie?”

There’s quiet for a few beats before his gaze meets the camera again. “I started to read it and everything reminded me of ye. So, I thought the book should belong to you instead.”

A lump feels lodged in her throat and when she finds her words again, they’re quietly spoken. “Which poems?”

“Och, Christ, dinna ask me that,” he says in a rare show of, well. Not quite embarrassment, even though his cheeks do turn a little pink.

“I can’t take something from your home without knowing.”

There’s a long pause before finally, he opens the book and simply begins to read. She doesn’t recognize the words, but his voice and soothing lilt make her heart, for the first time in months, unclench a bit.

“My blood approves and kisses are a better fate than wisdom. Lady, I swear by all the flowers. Don’t cry--the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids’ flutter which says we are for each other. Then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life’s not a paragraph. And death, I think, is no parenthesis.”

By the time he finishes there are tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and she takes a deep breath, sniffling and brushing any moisture away. “Reminded you of me?” she reiterates.

“I want ye to have it. And perhaps ye could come get it.”

She isn’t sure of what he said, still too wrapped up in the poem. When it registers, she furrows her forehead. “Come and get it?”

Jamie clears his throat, quiet as he waits for it to sink it.

When it does, Claire’s eyes go wide. The last time she’d been to Scotland it changed everything she thought she knew about her life. “You want me to come there?”

“Aye, I do. But if ye canna do it, if I ruined it, if I...what I’m trying to say, Sassenach, is that I dinna want ye to be alone for Christmas. Everyone here would be glad to see ye.”

“You...you would be glad to see me?”

Jamie nods, his gaze intent. “I shouldn’t have let ye leave the first time.”

He’s apologized so many times, tried to make it right, what he’d said, what he’d done. She believes him now when he says she did her best, when he tells her that he knows there was nothing else she could have done. It doesn’t inspire her to pick up where she left off, though. She’s happier now, content to answer the questions of first-time parents and assure them they’re doing just fine. Still, even with forgiveness, she never thought Jamie would ask her back to Scotland, that they would ever share the same space again. She hears herself saying she’ll come, though as she lays in bed that night after purchasing a plane ticket, she can’t quite believe it.

She’d tried, a little more than a year ago now, to wrap her mind around her feelings for Jamie; the attraction was there, no doubt. Now as she lays in bed, she wonders if they fell into one another because he was sad and she took advantage of him as he sought some sort of anchor. If she hadn’t done exactly that, then was Faith the only link between them? Without her, and with her death leaving such a large hole in both of them, would there be anything left with Jamie to salvage? This trip, she knows, will give them both the answer either way.

When she arrives and makes it down to baggage claim she sees him right away; he’s hard to miss, giant that he is. Making her way to him, there’s a moment of not being sure whether or not to hug him before his arms wrap fully around her.

It’s the best she’s felt since February.

“It’s good to see ye, Claire. In person, I mean.”

When he pulls back she immediately feels bereft, but there’s a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s good to see you, Jamie. You look well.”

He walks with her to get her bag, turning his gaze to her. “Speaking of looking well. Were those glasses in the video last we spoke?”

Grabbing her suitcase, she raises an eyebrow. “They were. For reading. I had to bite that particular bullet in September.”

“I havena seen ye wearing them before,” he says, wracking his brain and going through every FaceTime conversation they’ve had since October.

“I never happened to be wearing them. The other day I was cleaning, going through bills and organizing paperwork.”

“Ye should do more paperwork when I call,” he teases lightly, taking her bag from her to carry.

He liked her glasses, and Claire ducks her head a little as she walks behind him a bit, letting him lead the way to his car. It’s still there, she thinks. Whatever it was, the embers are still warm. She remembers how he made her feel, what the guilt was like when he’d told her it was her fault and hers alone that Faith was gone. It doesn’t go away with smiles and conversation, but he is trying to fix it. Day by day, he tries to add another suture to the wound he made. She knows he’s trying, knows he sees a therapist twice a week. He’s trying, and rather than shut him out, her heart tells her not to give up on Jamie.

At Lallybroch, that same sense of family she felt the first time she ever stepped inside envelops her now. It makes her feel connected to something, close to people who’d treated her like family. Instead of Jenny needing to warm up to her, Jamie’s sister greets her like an old friend with a hug, Ian replicating the gesture. The children dogpile her as well; even young Michael who was so small back in May offers her grins and lets her hold him on her hip as they walk to the living room. Claire hadn’t been sure what to expect; everyone still in mourning, maybe because she felt that way for a long while. But there are so many smiles and so much lightness that a peace she’s never been able to find on her own settles against her like a blanket.

This is what healing with family does, and she suddenly, desperately, never wants to let it go.

Instead of staying in Jamie’s room, this time she has her own, and she crashes almost immediately, sleeping through until breakfast the next day. She lets the chatter of family around a table wash over her, and on a walk with Jamie afterward, confesses to him she’s never had that.

Somewhere between the house and the stables, Jamie stops walking, turning to look at her fully before lowering his head. Tentatively, his hand reaches out, index finger hooking around hers. “I ken ye’ve been alone for a verra long time, Claire. I’ve been waiting to say this, was hoping to do it face to face, but…” When he looks at her again, meets her eyes, his own look like a raging sea. “I left ye to go toe-to-toe wi’ the grief alone. I pushed ye away and sent ye home to nothing. That ye found your way out of the dark anyway is a miracle. It took Jenny and Ian both to get me there. So it leaves me to believe one thing about ye.” Raising her hand, he kisses her knuckles before finally letting her go. “You’re stronger than I am, Sassenach.”

There’s a lump in her throat that she can’t quite swallow, and she shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m still in the dark, Jamie. Or at least the shadows. I don’t know anymore.”

“And that’s my fault,” he tells her; not a question. An acceptance. “I’m no’ sure why you're even bothering to give me the time of day, truth be told. I never expected ye to answer the phone when I called, or to keep doing so after the first time we spoke. I can never do or say enough to make what I said right.”

“I changed my entire life because of what you said to me, Jamie.”

“Claire, I--”

“No. No, I need to say this. I need to talk now.” She has no idea where that comes from, but he respects it, and once he nods for her to continue, Claire clears her throat. “I changed my life. I couldn’t stop second-guessing myself, I couldn’t...stop questioning every decision I was making about treatment plans, which meant I couldn’t do my job. And that was your fault.”

His head bows but he doesn’t interrupt.

“It was also your fault that I started thinking about all of the times I might have to go through this again. In my job, the ideal, obviously, is to beat cancer, and I have before. I know I would have again. But one more loss like that...I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could go through it and make it to the other side a second time. So, it’s your fault I realized I need to do something different. I need to see the joys of life through a child, not fear and pain and sadness.”

Jamie steps forward when Claire stops speaking, tentatively reaching up to stroke her cheek with his thumb. It’s a light touch, hovering almost. “I hurt ye. And no matter what revelations came of it, that will no’ change. I would spend the rest of my life making it up to ye if I could. If ye’d let me.”

Claire looks at up him, bringing a hand to rest over his that’s still tucked close to her face. “Faith brought us together, Jamie.”

“Aye,” he whispers, slowly moving until his forehead can press against Claire’s. “I will no’ let her be the reason we’re apart. Stay in Scotland. Stay for a while until the darkness is gone and there are no more shadows.”

For a moment her eyes close and all she can do is breathe him in. But she feels herself nodding, nose grazing his.

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Through the darkness to the dawn And when I looked back, you were gone. Heard your voice leading me on Through the darkness to the dawn. Love is deep as the road is long And it moves my feet to carry on. It beats my heart when you are gone. Love is deep as the road is long.

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#outlander fic #outlander #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #datril #deep as the road is long #my fic