#The clouds and the bushes were killing me like what brush should I use here

[shinmiyovvi]

POV: You're Nikolai and your crush and soon-to-be gf took you for a nice little walk at sundown, away from chaos

#call of duty zombies #cod zombies #codz #cod zombies oc #codz oc #original character #fanart #shin's bimbinis #primis main oc #valena villanueva #primis val #finally a digital version of hair down Lena #I tried to make a sunset on the bg #The clouds and the bushes were killing me like what brush should I use here #I told myself not to draw anymore after making that fanart of Stefan #Well... That was a lie #Because here I am drawing Lena at the middle of a crisis of schoolworks #Please slap me on the face rn #I wish I could draw Nikolai but me is too tired

[lune-hime]

Hi! Are you still writing? If not then disregard this, but I was wondering if you could write the first meeting between Logan and reader that was mentioned in Blast from the Past? I think there was something about a skateboard and a torrential downpour if I’m not mistaken haha. Thanks so much! And I love your fics btw :)

Hi! I am also a big fan of your writing too! :) Thank you so much for being incredibly patient with me on this request. I apologize for how long this has taken me to get out, preparing for graduate school has left me with much less time to write than I anticipated. I’m sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy the first meeting of dear reader and Mr. Kitty Claws <3 

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Zzzt.

Do tell me, please, why you presently found yourself alone at sunset (which-by the way-you couldn’t even see through the thick, gravely, storm clouds) on a remote hiking trail, optimistically ignoring the forecast for torrential rain, with only a windbreaker, backpack, and your longboard tucked under your arm?

Zzzt.  

I mean, really, this is how young women like you got chloroformed, dragged through the bramble, and stabbed on the stale and musty floorboards of a serial killer’s cabin.

Zzzt.  

And you can’t even fucking skate on a mountain trail.

Zzzt Zzzt.

Did I mention no cell service either? Oh, and how about that creepy dead, freshly killed deer a few minutes back on the side of the trail?

Zzzzzt-zap.

This time your sharp reflexes and highly precisioned energy electrocuted two mosquitos out of this dimension before they could land on your collarbone.

I get it though, mosquitoes and the sky teetering on the edge of cracking open aside, this was what you needed right now. This is where you needed to be right now, even if this was the world’s most questionable hiking trip.

Canada was indeed everything you needed and more. Sure, you had to constantly use dingy porta-potties and lactic acid inducing manual labor while you were working in the field. But it was rewarding and interesting and most of all it gave you a break from..well...you.

It seemed a bizarre decision by your family to pack up and leave for another country, even if it was only one border away. From their perspective it was hard to comprehend why a woman in her mid twenties in the summer of her first year of graduate school at NYU would want to galivant around in the remote corners of British Columbia. She should be networking with scientists and politicians she’s met during her internships, attending lavish banquets for anthropological research, and of course extending her plus-one invites to her loving, supporting, family.

You audibly scoffed at their idealistic fantasy.

Charles and your friends at the mansion couldn’t have been more encouraging. When the professor had told you about the opportunity to work at archeological dig sites of ancient excavated First Nations villages in the farthest Canadian wilderness from New England yachts and neon kissed skyscrapers, you couldn’t say yes fast enough.

You mentally chanted to yourself that this was a much needed reset as the clouds hungrily followed the crunching of your boots against deceased maple leaves. The looming canopy of conifers seemed to gain density as your steps dodged the slugs that emerged from the dirt to worship the incoming blessings of rain. You let the creaking of the wind against the broad trunks of the pines and the grayed blanket of air wash the stress from the work week away and lull you into a false sense of calm.

The first droplets of rain tapped against the ferns in a gentle percussion as you weaved over precariously growing roots. You used your free hand to fling your hood up and zipped your jacked as far up as it could go in preparation for more precipitation. Through the thin fabric your ears picked up a rustling in the brush that was definitely too grounded to be the wind.

Playful, hoarse grunts erupted from the ferns as two grizzly cubs rolled out of the bushes and onto the path in front of you. Your eyes threatened to pop out of your head as you watched them tumble through the pine needles and bite at each other’s ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Curses looped across your mind as your breath began to quicken in the eerie silence that now overtook the forest. Azure energy crackled along the spaces between your fingers as they twitched in fear.

Shit , you were a city girl. And they never offered classes on how to defend yourself from threatening wildlife at university or the mansion. Are grizzlies the kind you need to play dead with? Or climb a tree? Fuck you couldn’t even climb the stairs half the time without getting winded. One thing you did know, however, was if the babies were here than their mother-

It happened so quickly that your mind struggled to keep pace with your fingers. An unmistakable breathy growl manifested to your right as the mother in question charged you. Your flight instinct was first to kick in as you scrambled backwards down the trail. You only got a few feet until the slick bark of the tree roots caused you to slip and tumble to the ground. Your board flew out of your grip as your butt hit a particularly plump root. You winced at the pain but didn’t have much time to nurse your fall when the lumbering beast was almost on top of you.

You choked out a cry as you sloppily turned over and began struggling to get to your knees. You felt yourself being lifted by your backpack as the bear’s teeth ripped through the canvas of your bag and threw you off the path. You flailed on your descent, landing on your stomach as hot tears began streaking down your terrified face. You felt yourself being shaken by the straps as she roughly tugged you from side to side. With a vigorous scream you flipped to your side, adrenaline contorting your fingers to expel electric energy. A boisterous crack sent shockwaves through the canopy. Angrily your assailant bellowed at the discomfort of your energy webbing itself through her face. She snorted but lurched forward once more, her jaws a ghost on your neck. Her hot breath barely dusted your cheeks before energy shot outwards from your hands that shielded your face from becoming dinner. A pained yelp followed by another crack met your ears as you placed your buzzing palms down. The bear and her babies were hightailing it off in your opposite direction. Instant guilt washed over you as you noticed the bald spots woven through her copper fur where your energy had badly burned her.

As you began trying to calm your spinning mind you glanced up, squinting through the droplets, to see that the crack you had heard was your energy raking through the treetops and searing them straight off. The gateway you had made for the rain now left you damp and wallowing in your painfully heaving chest, sore ass, and shame for hurting another creature.

Logan let out a sigh as the muscles of his shoulder blades stretched with the roll of his arms. His axe was weighty in his hand as he leaned down to pick up another piece of birch trunk and placed it on his chopping block. Arms up and axe over his head, he prepped himself for his swing and brought the axe down with a thunderous clap.

His brows furrowed at the commotion. Indeed, the wood was now evenly split, but the chopping block was still in one piece. He momentarily contemplated the limits of his strength when crows flew from their pined perches.

“That’s definitely not normal.” He muttered to himself. He focused all of his senses in the direction of the commotion when his ears picked up a scream. Instantly he ran to his pick up truck, forgetting he still clutched the axe in his hand. Once he was in the driver’s seat he chucked it into the back as he slammed his foot on the gas, wheels kicking up dust as he sped down the dirt road.

Logan drove until the first trailhead emerged from the thicket. He felt his claws nipping at the skin of his knuckles as he slammed the door and jogged across the soggy dirt. The screaming had ceased, but Logan could smell the musky stench of a bear nearby. Sure enough as he went deeper and deeper into the forest he saw sets of fresh tracks squelched into the mud. Retracing the animals’ steps he let out a breath of relief at the woman who was beginning to sit upright.

Halfway through dragging yourself upward you heard heavy footfalls on the path. Your head whipped towards the sound in dread, not mentally prepared for another attack. Your wide eyes met with those of a man; his sorrel tresses were dislodged from flying through the crisp breeze, his flannel was casually only buttoned mid chest, and lord his hands.

Your mouth fell agape at the metal daggers that resided between his knuckles. Their metallic sheen was amplified by the raindrops that cascaded down them. At first, you felt tinges of fear that he was the axe murderer that you had always been warned about. But in those eyes you could only read concern.

Logan picked up on your uneasiness and put his hands out in front of him in a non threatening gesture. The energy that still flickered about your body did not go unnoticed by him as he put the pieces of what must have happened together. The stench of bear, the booming, a hole in the trees, a young mutant lying on the ground in the aftermath of defending herself. He willed his claws ever so slowly back into his hands as he watched you become entrapped by his anomaly.

He was like you and you were like him.

“You’re-” You began, still gawking at his mutation. Logan was used to people ogling at him in fear, disdain, and abhorrence and even with you being a mutant he wouldn’t have put it past you to react the same. But your initial alarm had washed off with the steady stream of rain and what was revealed was a mixture of relief, apprehension, and curiosity.

“Mhm.” He simply answered with mutual acknowledgement. He battled with taking a few paces forward to help you up but he didn't want to stress you out any more than needed.  

“What are you doing in my forest?” He asked as he watched you groan and finally sit up.

“What are you, the fairy guardian of this place?” You mumbled, riding out the final waves of your panic. Logan cocked an eyebrow in mild amusement. He waited while you rolled your wrists and checked yourself for any bleeding or sprains. You were satisfied with suffering only a few cuts to your cheek and arms where sticks had kissed just beneath your skin. The dull ache of where your tailbone struck the root took the place of your endorphins.

“Can I help you up?” Logan asked softly as he kept his hands visible and empty. You answered him with an apprehensive stare as you contemplated. You figured if he really wanted to hurt you, especially after realizing your powers, he would have already. When you nodded Logan walked towards you and offered you his hand.

“Are you gonna zap me?” He lightly chuckled before you could connect your palm with his. His comment offered a small smile from you.

“No, unless you try something.” Your quip faded into a grunt of discomfort as his strong arm pulled you to your feet.

“You alright? You don’t look like that bear took any chunks out of you.” He inquired as the warmth of his hand left your grasp.

“How did you know it was a bear?” You asked with a knitted brow.

“I heard you scream and saw bear tracks on my way here.” He responded simply. You hummed and let out a shaky exhale when the coil in your lower back tightened as you attempted to stretch it.

“I’m fine, just shaken up. I’m more worried for the bear…” You trailed off as your guilty conscience overcame your thoughts. Even when you could have become their next family meal, you had reservations about using your mutation to hurt others. Logan huffed in disbelief at your selflessness.

“Seems like you didn’t really have much of a choice. What else could you do; its not like PETA will ever find out.” He shrugged. You kept your guard tilted high but even gilded iron defenses couldn’t keep you from observing his handsomeness. In the newfound proximity you wandered the hazel pathways of his irises in the company of the distinct smell of cigar and pine. He wore the rugged boyishness of a young man in his smooth skin and wolfish smile. It clashed ever so lovely with the maturity that embodied his stance and sturdy build.

To any dismay you could have had, the roses that bloomed on your cheeks did not go unnoticed by him. Alluring curiosity spread across his face. He wouldn’t deny that-despite your disheveled hair, the dirt that coated your jaw, and the aura of a wet puppy-he found you beautiful. Any seductions that ran through his mind aside, he liked to think he was chivalrous enough to push the brakes on a girl who just got mauled by a bear.

“So, wanna explain why you were electrocuting a bear on a remote hiking trail?” He pressed as he shifted his weight to one side, bringing his boot to prop up and rest on a protruding root. You gulped, your pride about getting lost still dangling from a few frayed threads.

“Do you wanna explain why-uh-you’re also here on this remote hiking trail?” You countered and crossed your arms. Your voice quaked with residual nerves that were the opposite of threatening.

Logan stared at you through the rain. The clouds were weeping more intensely now and their tears kissed his dark lashes.

“I have a summer cabin. Gonna answer my question before we both end up taking showers out here?” He replied with a tinge of annoyance as his hair grew slick with the incoming rain.

In the space that filled your gap in speech, a vivacious thunderclap steam rolled through the sky. As if on cue, the rain absolutely poured through the leafy umbrella above you and instantly began soaking the two of you.

“Shit!” Logan exclaimed at the now sticky feeling of his flannel to his chest. You flipped the hood of your raincoat up as quickly as you could, but not before your head was thoroughly waterboarded.

“WHAT NOW?” You shouted over the roaring water. Logan’s brow furrowed under the assault of droplets.

“My car is parked not that far from here.” He yelled with a nod in the direction he came from. You bit your lip nervously at the thought of following a strange man to his vehicle.

“How do I know you’re not some weirdo?” You contended.

“We’re both weirdos, sweetheart.” The term of endearment slid so effortlessly on the remark about your mutations and left your cheeks hot against the cold rain. “You can trust me, or you can get soaked out here. Your choice.”

What other option did you really have? Your mutation couldn’t protect you from freezing nor could you send sparks into a wet log to create a fire. He obviously knew this area well, he made sure you were unhurt, and he was like you. You took solace in all of these notions and reminded yourself that you could use your abilities as a last resort.

“Fine. But metal is a great conductor for electricity just so you know.” You warned and Logan cracked a half smile. He then began jogging up the trail.

“WAIT.” You called and he halted in his tracks. You ran over to the brush and sifted through the ferns to tuck your longboard under your arm. Logan did not have the time to question the absurdity of you bringing that with you on a hike but a look of perplexity was evident on his glistening features. He ran at a much slower pace than he would have had he been alone. He made sure he could hear the squelching of your footfalls as you pushed through the stinging at your tailbone and followed him back to his truck.

He unlocked the rusty vessel swiftly and the two of you plopped onto the pleasantly dry seats. You threw your longboard on the floor of the passenger’s seat and heaved a sigh of relief to be out of those woods. You immediately slipped your soggy shoes and socks off. While you peeled your drenched raincoat from your form, you glanced around the interior of the car.

Not trashy-save an empty beer bottle and an orange Reese's wrapper.

No guns. You figured he didn’t need a gun with claws like those.

A worn, auburn leather jacket hanging off of one of the back seats.

“At least you don’t have an axe.” You chuckled more to yourself than him. Logan comically averted his eyes ever so slowly to the back seat. He sighed when he didn’t see the weapon in question for it must have fallen under the seat.

Logan's car was getting an all natural, no expenses paid power wash as the two of you stared in awe as the rain slid down the windshield in swift rivers. It left zero visibility outwards aside from the running water.

“I...don’t think you can drive through this.” You stated the obvious.

“No shit.” He replied, his voice laced with a velvet rumble off of the metal frames of the vehicle. “We’ll have to wait it out.”

You nodded and couldn’t fight the large shiver that sprung from your lower back all the way up to your ears. Your torso may have been kept dry but your head was soaked and so were your legs. Logan arched his back to reach behind the driver’s seat to grab his jacket from the back.

“Here.” He offered gently, straightening it out and laying it on your lap.

You blinked at his simple act of kindness. Grabbing the smooth leather, you brought your knees to your chest and layered the jacket over your body from your legs to your shoulders. Heat rose to your cheeks as it did the rest of your body as you curled into his jacket.

“Thanks.” You said and gave him a grateful smile. “Aren’t you cold too though? You didn’t have a raincoat on.”

“I’m fine. One of the...perks of my genetics.” He replied in dismissal of your concern.

“Damn, kitty claws and not being able to feel the cold? You lucked out, dude.” You commented with a light hearted tease. Joking made you feel less vulnerable, less stupid for putting yourself in this situation. Logan rolled his eyes at the frilly name for his adamantium blades.

“I know your mutation before I even know your name.” You commented with a small chuckle.

“Logan.” He answered, the velvety gravel of his voice rippling through the rain at the windshield.

“Nice to meet you, Logan. I’m Y/N.” You said and held your hand out expectantly. When you locked gazes, both of you were temporarily enamored in the chromatics of your eyes. He seemed to realize this before you and smoothly took your hand in his without ever wavering his eye contact. He gave your hand a quick shake and withdrew it back into his lap. His palm was so warm against your clammy skin. It made you wonder how the rest of him felt.

“I honestly didn’t expect to meet anyone out here, let alone another mutant.” You exhaled at the lingering impossibility of the situation.

“That's why I’m here, usually it's pretty barren people wise. That brings me back to my question; what are you doing out here?” He pressed. As he waited for an answer, he shifted to relax into the corner between the seat and the window, amber eyes alight in the dimmed shadow of the rain. You fiddled with the worn hem of your makeshift blanket for a few moments, letting the waterfall outside fill the silence.

“Today was supposed to be a relaxing break from work. Evidently it didn’t turn out that way.” You exhaled and leaned your head back on the seat’s headrest. “I saw this park along the way to one of my work sites and thought it looked like a good place to be alone. Now I know to research bear population concentrations before going anywhere.”

Logan understood. That’s the whole reason he lived half of his life as what some would proclaim as a hermit. Partially to save others from getting hurt by him and partially to keep himself from getting burned by the unknown mistakes of his past and the anonymity of his stolen memories. He wasn’t your dad so he wasn’t going to hound you too much about it. But, even if you held the power to break the trees with a thunderclap, he couldn’t help the protective feeling that bubbled up his throat for the sweet woman next to him.

“Do you always charge head on into places you know nothing about? And with a skateboard?” His words betrayed his increasing fondness for your adventurous spirit.

You didn’t come all the way to Canada to be lectured. (Well, besides in your internship.) The question could have been taken as aggressive, judgmental, or prying even. But in his tone was genuine curiosity framed underneath the light scolding.

“I thought it would be fun to learn how to longboard while I’m out here for the summer.” You confessed and sent a testing look this way. He let out a rich chuckle.

“And a hiking trail is the ideal place for that.”

“I thought maybe there would be a bridge or paved path…” You scowled at his sarcasm.

“I get it though, we all need alone time. And there’s not a better place than the forest to do that.” A sigh tailed his sweet comment. You were grateful for it, for despite his banter, he didn’t make you feel like a stupid kid. Not entirely, at least.

“You’re not from around here then?” He continued.

“No, I’m from New York actually. I’m here on a grad school internship.”

“Ah, a city girl. That explains the blind enthusiasm.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a cocky half smile. Your glare only grew in intensity at his teasing.

“Long way from home.” He noted and you hummed in agreement.

“Is your degree in wildlife conservation?” He threw you one final lithe jab.

“Haha.” You said pointedly, but you couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your lips at his handsome amusement. “No, cultural anthropology, actually.” Logan let out an impressed whistle.

“What about you? Are you one of those people who abandoned their life to live off the grid?” You asked tentatively, realizing the conversation had been solely focused on you.

“Not exactly. I’ve got a couple cabins across the country-like summer and winter homes. When I’m out here, I work at the lumber yard. When I’m in Alberta, I work at a bar.” He responded as he wiped the condensation from his side of the window, a hopeless attempt at checking through the wall of rain.

“So you’re both a lumberjack and a bartender? Wow, eclectic.” You praised his line of work.

“More or less.” He left out that the only things he tended to at the bar were bloodied knuckles after embedding them into his opponent's gut during each cage match.

You chatted idly as the rain continued to wash away the hectic afternoon. You talked about your work, about your home. He talked about his cabin, about his travels through BC and Alberta. Between your lips the two of you wove personal stories but excluded intimate details. He was still a stranger, after all. Even if the complexity of his humble nature and mysterious lifestyle made him one of the most compelling strangers you had ever met.

As the storm raged on and time flowed in waves at your windows, you began to doze off. Logan resigned to resting his eyes himself while keeping his ears peeled for a let up in the rain or any disturbances.

Until he heard your little grunt of discomfort.

In your sleep your head had grown heavy and lolled to the side at such an angle that Logan was sure you would wake up with an insane neck cramp. As gingerly as he could, he rolled up your now dry raincoat, gently placed his hand on your cheek, and propped your head onto the makeshift pillow. His eyes softened at the utter peacefulness of your relaxed form; the way your eyelashes embraced your plump cheeks, and in your tranquility the erasure of any semblance of the past few hours.

“What?” You whispered, pretty eyes now meeting his in groggy sweetness. Logan blinked in surprise but didn’t take his eyes off of you. He felt delicate wings against the chambers of his heart.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He warned lightly. Under your honeyed look his nerves felt like they were being bathed in a pleasant hum. He wondered if your energy could feel like this.

“You’re a secret softie.” You declared with a sleepy giggle. Logan pursed his lips at the cute accusation, but didn’t deny it.

“Go back to sleep, bub.” He said lowly. You let the warm tambour of his voice mixed with the crisp pitter patter of the rain send you back to sleep.

When the storm would finally pass, Logan would drive you back into town. You would part ways, then, not knowing the impact you would have on each other’s lives mere months later after the summer rain bled into the crimson fall and arrived on Xavier’s School’s winter doorstep.

#fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #xmen #x men fanfiction #logan #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #reader insert #marvel x reader #Marvel x Y/N

[writingindulgence]

Illumi x F.Reader - Expectation

Pairing: Illumi x Female Reader

Story tags: Arranged marriage, typical Zoldyck behaviour, angst-ish, heavy manipulation, ILLUMI, unhealthy one-sided dependence : ) my guy just toxic

3,200+ words and why? I don’t even like the dude. Also, two points of view.

The sound of fancy porcelain tea cups clinking against the glass table is soothing, along with the warm rays shining on your face. Times like these are what you are thankful for. The smell of purposely picked flowers, arranged to please the eyes. Not the stench of trash dumped for the sole convenience of other countries. Colourful butterflies and bees, instead of flies and disease ridden rats. A home cooked meal ready for your consumption rather than scraps of rotting food that you more often than not nearly died for.

Kukuroo mountain is infinitely more beautiful compared to Meteor City.

“(Y/n) dear, it’s unbecoming of you to make noise with your tableware,” a powerful feminine voice chastates your mistake. The woman sitting opposite you is none other than Kikyo Zoldyck. Or as she forces you to call her, mother.

Your heart flutters in relief, an apologetic expression weaving onto your face. She must be in an agreeable mood since her fan hasn’t struck your hand. Sometimes you are let off with a warning if she spots a blunder on your part. Sometimes, she resorts to physical punishment. It always depends on whether or not a family member said anything to ruin her day. In fact, any matter concerning Killua will set her off in a positive or negative direction.

Just like Illumi whenever you bring up his younger brother.

“I apologise mother, I’m too excited because Illumi is returning,” you proceed to take a sip and this time around, gently settle the tea cup down.

A content hum comes from her direction, her visor flashing for a split second. “Oh (Y/n), you’ll make such a good wife one day.” She picks up a fork gracefully and stabs it into the cake she asked for from the family cook.

The compliment ignites a multitude of feelings in your chest. It spreads out, only one thought in your mind.

How immensely grateful and happy you are to hear it.

Many of your friends from when you were young, starved to death. Some were beaten up by other desperate residents. Others lost their will to fight, a state you threaded on a magnitude of times.

Being taken away by the mafia one day was what gave you back the spark, a life in the city no more out of your reach. Until you figured out what type of work they wanted to sell you and other kids for. Stories from the older girls back in Meteor City came rushing back.

Your bloodlust and instinct to survive are what happened to change your life for the better. Out of all the line-up of children, you were selected by the Zoldycks. Instead of being the pet of some old pervert, you found a home within the assassin family.

There were many times when you felt like giving up. When the training you went through was worse than simply dying. However, you promised yourself to never throw away the chance you received all those years back.

You were indebted to the Zoldycks.

Hearing words of encouragement from one of the people you looked up to the most brought tears to your eyes. You wiped them away with your thumb.

Mother is a role model to you. It helped when you found out that she originates from Meteor City too. In a sense, it is easier to place yourself in her shoes and strive to achieve what she did. Being an amazing assassin, wife and mother.

A sudden scraping of a chair brought you back to the presence, startling you into a defensive pose. The knife under your sundress clasped in your hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Kalluto coming out from behind the bushes, his paper fan also ready for action.

“My Kil, what is he doing?! Quick, we have to stop him. Kalluto go call for Milluki right now!,” she orders shrilly before running into the mansion.

Without hesitation, you rush after her. It is expected of you. A nagging feeling in the back of your head also foreshadows that whatever is going on, it will have dire consequences if not stopped.

Killua is in the foyer, being kept idle by the servants. But not for long. You can see the irritation growing on his face, his muscles tensed.

You’ve known Killua since he was a baby, having been inducted as a future family member when mother was pregnant with him. There’s no doubt that if something wasn’t done, it would lead to a messy aftermath.

A few seconds after you make it inside, Milluki shows up and the servants are all dismissed.

“Kil, my little Kil, what’s wrong? Why did I hear that you’re leaving to take the Hunter’s Exam?,” mother’s voice is aghast, the idea of her favourite child abandoning the nest filling her with pain.

You too are taken aback at the news, a protective sensation coursing through you. Your fingers flex at your side.

“It’s boring here and I heard that the Exam is difficult so I’m going to test my skill,” he shrugs her worry off and spins his skateboard. Your heart begins to pound uncontrollably.

Hearing the disrespect, Milluki steps up and lashes out at Killua. “You brat, what’s with that arrogant attitude you-,”

“Stop that!,” mother’s voice sharply cuts him down.

She begins pleading with Killua to stay, her voice cracking multiple times. It pains you to watch someone you respect growing so desperate.

Killua is too young to understand what he’s putting the ones around him through. Of course, a rebellious phase is healthy-

A prickly discomfort surges through your head and you clutch it. Your unexpected movement grabs everyone’s attention. You try to brush it off, not wishing to be a burden.

It isn’t expected of you to be one.

“Killua, you should stay here. The world is a dangerous place,” your words try to reach him. “Illumi is coming home today,  why don’t we-”,

“I don’t want him around! Just leave me alone,” he angrily interrupts. The air grows heavy. Heavier than it’s been since the beginning.

Mother gasps in shock at his behaviour since Killua never really yells at you. Yes, he gets annoyed as much as any other kid but when he shouts, he doesn’t really mean it.

It’s expected of you to coerce him into calming down.

“You’ve changed during the past few weeks (Y/n), after Illumi came back before leaving again. Anyway, I will kill you all if you try to stop me,” Killua promises in a cold voice, his blue eyes a piercing ice.

This rouses an onslaught of insults from Milluki and a mix of agony and happiness from mother.

However, you’re currently stuck in your own mind, reflecting on Killua’s comment. It is true that during the past three weeks you doted on him more than ever before. Usually you try to split your attention between him and Kalluto when you have free time. What changed?

Nothing should have changed, Killua is the priority of the family.

A high-pitched scream echoes around the foyer and your clouded head awakens. The sight in front of you freezes your blood and it takes immense strength not to bite your tongue.

Mother is kneeling down on the ground, her hands covering her bloody face. Before you can take a step, Milluki rages and charges at Killua. The young boy bounces back and proceeds to plunge the knife into his older brother. Milluki curses and grabs his wound.

On impulse, your hand is already equipped with a knife and you’re ready to protect yourself as well as mother Killua.

Killua mistakes your movements as an attack and strikes his own knife across your arm. A long gash appears on your skin, the blood seeping out moments later. You take in the pain as punishment. Punishment for letting it get this far and failing.

You’re a failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.

Taking the chance to escape, he kicks his skateboard up and runs out.

And you were helpless to stop him.

*

It’s been a while since Illumi has been back home on Kukuroo mountain, his previous mission requiring him to travel across multiple locations. The target was a cautious person so they moved from place to place, leaving lousy decoys. That did not impede Illumi at all, it was simply an inconvenience at worst.

After all, nervous-wrecks are the ones who put their emotions out on display. They are the first to slip up due to the fact that they care about others.

Which is concerning because Killua is at a stage where he is showing his rebellious streak more often. It is crucial that he can snuff it out before his dear brother falls further down the slope of idiotic fantasies . In which case, it is a slight relief that (Y/n) is here. She tries to keep Killua in check in a subtle way instead of hanging over his shoulder or perpetuating his moody behaviour.

Though the last time he visited there were hints of her growing soft and losing her devotion of raising Killua to be the next head of the family. He is ashamed to confess that it irked him to some degree. It’s expected of her to put her desires down for what he wants. And he wants Killua to be the next head.

Even so, he thought that he dealt with this the last time.

However, imagine the surprise he felt when his mother came wailing to him, begging him to follow her little Kil to the Hunter’s Exam. To think that instead of a joyful family reunion, the news of his stray younger brother reached his ears before anything else.

That won’t do.

Currently, it’s close to midnight which is the time (Y/n) comes to his room to say goodnight. Why she even bothers is beyond him. The effort of keeping up with formalities could be used for better activities. It’s already indisputable that they are arranged to marry in the future at the request of his parents, so there is no reason to be close together in any romantic sense.

In fact, Killua will succeed as the head which is why there is no point in thinking about his own future.

A sigh leaves his mouth.

There is only one positive outcome that came out of this whole arrangement. He has an extra set of eyes and he’s sure that she will listen to him without question. All he has to do is play into these formalities and she’s wrapped around his finger.

An affectionate hug here, a tiny smile there...Normally he’d be concerned that a future Zoldyck , even if not by blood, would be so easy to deceive. However, since every carefully planned step is coming from him he’s not surprised in the slightest.

It’s expected of (Y/n) to be loyal, just as much as it’s expected for Killua to take over the family business.

The wooden clock hanging opposite his bed strikes 12 but there is no sign of (Y/n). She never runs late.

The fact that she hadn’t even greeted him when he came back is also unusual. Normally she’d be pacing in front of the entrance door but today his mother took over that role. He heard that she got injured by Killua but (Y/n) has experienced worse so what’s the fuss?

It’s not his problem, he’ll just take a bath before bed. She’ll come running eventually.

~

Illumi’s right arm is beginning to grow numb. He hasn’t moved from the water in over an hour. Not because he needed a break to relax, taking time off for yourself is inefficient. No, he hasn’t moved because he’s been waiting for the familiar steps and hesitant knock to come from outside his room.

Discerning who someone is from the sound of their footsteps and how they carry themselves is second nature to any professional assassin. For instance, Milluki hovers in one spot when walking while Kalluto creates soft patters with his toes.

On the other hand, (Y/n) always shuffles her feet forward just before his door. It takes her approximately 2 seconds to knock when she’s unsure, 1 second when she’s in a normal mood and 0.5 whenever she has news deemed worthy enough for him to hear. Reading the mood of someone before they see you face to face is important.

Coming to terms with the fact that today she won’t pay him a visit, he steps out of the bathtub, water dripping down his naked body. He throws on a plain black bathrobe and leaves the bathroom. Giving his bed a quick-over, he walks out the door.

Guess it’s time for him to pay a visit instead.

If he actually bothers and gives it some thought, it’s not a mystery as to why he hasn’t even seen her shadow today. She’s ashamed. Ashamed of being a failure for letting Killua go.

Her scrambled mind is most likely trying to piece together what she should say. How she should ask for forgiveness and repent.

He wonders if she’s starving herself or if she’s contemplating about going to the self-confinement room.

Normally he’d push her into whatever she makes up but a stick approach by itself won’t be enough. There needs to be a push and pull factor involved if he wants her to listen to him unconditionally.

And what better way than to appear before her, disheveled and still wet in his robe? She’ll jump to conclusions.

Further guilt will set in, how she unnecessarily worried him by skipping the usual goodnight. His state will continue feeding her imagination, connecting unrelated dots to make her believe that he cares for her.

Truly, a puppet and its real master.

Soaking footprints follow behind him on the floor, the dim candlelight making them difficult to notice. He knocks once before letting himself in and shutting the door, back turned to the only other person inside.

A small gasp penetrates the silence and a rush of steps follow suit, stopping just behind him.

“Illumi, welcome back,” (Y/n) is the first to speak. He stays silent.

A nervous shuffle. “Is..everything okay?”.

The voice quietens downs the more she speaks. That should be enough for now.

He turns around and looks down at her concerned face, with no emotion of his own. Her eyes widen a fraction after registering his condition. Before she can open her mouth to question him further, Illumi crinkles his eyes and smiles.

“It’s nothing. I was just worried since I didn’t see you today,” he gazes away, giving her enough time to fix her expression. It’ll be harder for him to get her to open up if she thinks that he sees through her lack of control.

“I missed you too-,”

Presumptuous to think that he missed her.

“-and I’m sorry for not saying anything. I just…,” she stops right before confessing her shortcoming.

He doesn’t provide her with any more time to compose herself, a full day is already generous. Grabbing the door handle he gives it a slight tug but her hand shuts it and pulls his sleeve. That’s new. (Y/n) rarely takes the initiative.

He allows her to drag him over to the bed, slightly curious about her next move. Is she trying to entertain him as an apology or simply trying to put distance between him and the door?

Both tactics aren’t half bad when it comes to simple targets.

He sits down on the covers and analyses her.

A long white nightdress, face ready for bed, barefoot, and a long knife wound going up her arm.

A shred of pride for Killua’s work passes through his head but he doesn’t showcase this. If by any chance she spotted the look, it would demolish the picture he wants to paint.

(Y/n) kneels down in front of him and takes his hand into hers. It’s warm, though not as soft as it used to be. Her breasts rest atop his knees.

His attention migrates from the sudden action to her face, looking for answers. He made sure that she will only expect affection coming from him, not the other way around. It would be too tiring to keep up a loving demeanour- no, scratch that. It wouldn’t be tiring but the expectations would eventually rise and it would result in less time spent on bringing up Killua.

Oh, he zoned out.

(Y/n)’s eyes are full of regret and desperation, the hand holding his trembling just enough to tell him that today’s event is eating at her. Is she waiting for him to say something?

Finally after what feels like an unprecedented amount of time, the scene unfolds.

Her smaller hand pulls his to her face and rests it against her cheek. The second his skin touches hers, he detects slight heat radiating. She must have not treated the cut. The knife was probably dirty too, Killua slacks off in that regard.

“I’m sorry for being a failure, I’m very sorry Illumi. I have no excuse,” the apology flows out of her mouth, bottom lip quivering. The pain of looking at someone she disappointed forces her eyes to shut close. Her free hand latches onto his thigh and she digs in before continuing.

“You can slash my other arm as punishment. Or hang me upside down in the self-containment room,” she throws out. “But please, please don’t give up on me. I can do better Illumi”.

And as if to prove how determined she is, her eyes open up again, staring deeply into his own. Unwavering. Confident.

Though the thumb that he has under her jaw gave the hammering pulse away.

1,2,3. 1,2. 1,2,3.

He stretched out the silence, pretending to ponder over his answer. The unsettling emotions influencing her thoughts will prove beneficial when he flips her assumption around.

He removes his hand from her cheek and moves the one on his thigh to her side. (Y/n) adopts a look of relief, believing that he agreed to her conditions of punishment. What he’s about to do is infinitely more cruel though.

She catches her breath when he follows her example and kneels in front of her. He pulls up the sleeve of her nightdress that’s slipping down before grabbing her shoulders, gently.

“How can I not give up on you when you give up on yourself,” he lectures her, peeking down at her wound. Make the target question their actions.

An expression of remorse adorns her face, a downward tug of the mouth.

He pulls her in, arms encircling and resting on her lower back. The material of the nightdress is light enough for him to make out the feeling of skin.

“Though I won’t give up on you.” Affirmation and a moment of reassurance.

One of his hands travels deliberately slowly up to her neck. It rests on the back of her head, fingers entangled in her hair. Illumi locates the present that he left her the last time he visited and pushes it back into her head. It has moved slightly out.

This prompts (Y/n) to hug him in response, her previously hanging arms now resting comfortably around him. Good, as for the finishing line.

“Though your failure is a disappointment, I know that you will not repeat the same mistake, because you

love me, right?”.

Her head moves to rest between the crook of his neck, nodding in agreement. She doesn’t ask him if he loves her.

It’s expected of her not to.

#illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #hunter x hunter fanfiction #hunter x hunter #This took 2 long but now I can focus on other things yay

[passivenovember]

Chapter Six of : If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields

--

Billy goes home less than an hour after Steve suggests they play operation. When he looks at Billy with eyelashes Neil Armstrong could see from the moon and suggests they cozy up among the coffee table books to do some lasting good in the world; get the tooth out of that guy's dick for him--

Billy has to get out of there.

It was too much.

The house. The colors. The fabric. The smell of Steve's shampoo, which is less like peeled lemons and more like funeral flowers, the longer Billy sits around getting sunburnt under the intense light of a man who wasn't interested in him beyond starched collar friendship.

And he's not mad at Steve. Isn't on his way to punch a hole in his drywall, or anything, but he's mad at himself. Mad at his heart for kicking up a cloud of pink smoke when Billy stands and says he'd better get going. 

And Steve's face falls like snow that covers Billy's driveway, that glues his feet together.

"Papers." Billy says quickly, searching for the coat he knows he didn't bring up the drive.

"Newspapers?" Steve goes along with him, adjusting the yellow bandana behind his ears. He turns with a swoosh of his orange rug robe to dig through the shelves on the wall. "I have some here. Old ones, new ones. There's an edition from 1985 about the mall burning down, it's pretty interesting. Would you like that?"

"Sure, I'll, uh--" Billy takes the yellowing pages from Steve without really thinking about it, jerking away when Harrington lands too close. Close enough that Billy can see the specks of green in his eyes. "I meant. Teaching papers. Assignments." The newspaper smells old. Like books and dust, and faintly of spilled bong water from the pipe of a baghead teenager long ago. "I have to grade papers."

Steve doesn't take it back from him. "I thought you taught kindergarten."

"I do."

"Kindergarteners write papers?" Steve's hair flops across his forehead. Like big, wavy puppy dog ears on either side of his face. 

Billy has to force his tongue to stay in his mouth, his eyes to stop staring. "I meant, like. Spelling. Numbers. Rudimentary bullshit." Billy shakes the newspaper at puppy dog Steve. "Declan Parks can't even tie his own shoes, so--"

"Alright. Okay." Steve says sweetly, pushing Billy's hand back to his own chest, fingers wrapping around his palm. "Take it with you. There's a lot of history in this town, mythology and folklore--rumors of bloodsucking aliens and evil scientists camping out under the power plant." Steve doesn't let go of Billy's hand. He grins instead, dimples popping like fireworks on his face. "We're a regular Twin Peaks ripoff. Read about it, let me know what you think." And.

Steve doesn't back away. Doesn't back down.

"I'll give you a ring sometime." Billy says suddenly.

"Okay."

"Yeah, alright, uh." Billy backs toward the front door, two finger salute making pink skies land on Steve's face. "Thanks for the grub. I'll see you in the driveway, or--"

Steve laughs, following Billy to the door. 

"Around. Yeah, Steve, I'll--"

Steve places a hand on Billy's shoulder and the world stops spinning. Melting right off the bone. Billy fights to get air in his lungs as Steve brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, fingertips lighting Billy's skin on fire.

"See you around, neighbor." Steve says.

And Billy knows, feels in his bones, that he'd do better moving across town.

--

It keeps snowing. 

Morning noon and night, wood nymphs piling on ice and hail down on a town of 36,000 people until Billy feels alone. Like an animal trapped in a beige house on a white street that exists in a bubble. A snow globe immune to light and sound. 

There's a period of days where school is cancelled and Billy runs out of things to keep himself occupied. All the books have been read and returned to their place on the shelf. All the films watched and replayed until Billy draws his own conclusions, until the characters feel like his own.

On the first day Billy feels like he's losing his mind.

He orders groceries. Picks up some thermal socks. Considers making a pie or something from scratch, like his mother used to do before Neil went missing on Christmas Eve, but. He doesn't have a rolling pin.

On the second day he drags a chair over to the window and stares at the warm, peachy light from Steve's upstairs window as it shine on the drifts that gather and climb toward heaven. Billy thinks about that living room as if it were a vision from some other planet. A universe crafted in the image of virality.

Billy thinks about Steve and wishes he could be like that. 

Wide eyed. Free.

--

On the third day, Megan says Billy should begin preparing for spring.

"We're snowed in." Billy mutters, cleaning up the polish on his toes. A gorgeous matte eggplant color that proves--spring isn't on his radar. 

"You're getting bogged down with the ice and snow," Megan reiterates, pen scratching across the page so loudly that Billy can hear it with the phone on speaker. "Before long the flowers will bloom again. The sun will shine, it's something everyone has to prepare for. Rebirth, growth--"

"I don't have a garden."

"Don't be a shitter, Billy." Megan sighs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "We can work with that. Would it do some good to plant one?"

Billy starts painting his other foot. "I don't want to stay in Hawkins forever."

"That's understandable."

"And I have plans this spring." Billy twists the cap onto the nail polish, swinging his foot around in the air as if that'll make things move faster. "Max and I want to go hiking back home. I'm supposed to help my mom get the boathouse ready for the summer, and I don't want to start something permanent in a place I can't see myself settling down in--"

"A couple marigold bushes are not permanent, you could kill 'em off with a single neglectful week in the summer and you know it." Megan falls silent, only the click of her pen left behind. "This move has been rough on you, and it's been rough on your body, and it's been hell on your space."

Billy shrugs. "It's been fine on my space."

"Have you even finished unpacking?" Megan demands, strictly business.

"I don't want to set down roots--"

"You've lived in Hawkins for two years, Billy, and you haven't finished unpacking."

A lump appears in his throat, just like that, just. Choking the air from his lungs. Megan must hear Billy swallow, or sense the shift in the air because her voice goes soft around the edges. Pliant. "It's a new cycle." 

Billy tries not to think about Max. "Alright."

"Time to blow the cobwebs away." 

"Dust the spider houses." Billy says to himself. He tries not to think about their garden back home, the fertile smell of fresh Earth somehow finding its way to Hawkins despite Billy's efforts. He misses Mammoth Lakes. He tries not to think about it. Then; "Max is coming down for my week off."

"That's not until March."

"So?"

Megan sighs, like Billy should get it by now. "That's way into the spring season, what you need this year is to get a head start." She scribbles something down on the page again. "We've been through this before. You're beyond me spelling out what you need. You've been my client long enough to know the type of person you are, Billy."

He smirks. "Yeah, and what kind of person is that?"

"Someone who likes to open his doors and let in the fresh air." She moves some papers around, voice firm. "Bright colored walls, and bird baths littering diverse lawns even though they turn to green slime when not filtered properly. The kind of man who likes to shop second hand because 'everything has a soul--'"

"Are you reading from my journal?"

"Need I go on?" Megan lets Billy mull it over for a moment. Lets him draw is own conclusions. When she speaks again it's like Billy already knows what she wants to say. Already believes it himself, but. That's never stopped her before. 

"We were just talking about Steve last week."

"We're always talking about Steve," Billy snaps. "Last week, and the week before that, and yesterday and tomorrow--"

"Perpetually." Megan teases. "I know. But you said you liked his house. That's what we discussed last time; not Steve or his hair or how embarrassed you are about the rats--" Billy wishes everyone would let that part go. "But his house. The way it made you feel."

He can see it in his minds eye--Megan leaning forward, legs uncrossed on her big hammock chair, blue and gray glasses catching the glint in her eye as she pokes through his spirit and lands at the root.

The bone.

"What is it you liked about Steve's place and what is it you hate about your own and where is the through line?"

She gives him homework. Student and teacher.

Billy hates homework, but. He jots the instructions down in his notebook anyway and wonders, distantly, if the skies will continue to open above his head and if he'll ever learn to accept it.

--

On the fourth day Billy's power goes out. 

Just like that. 

With no bang or whimper it's just there one moment and gone the next.

One minute he's watching Wayne's World, wrapped in five blankets and eating soup from one of those bowls with the built in straw, and the next he's submerged in darkness. Looking around the living room like a startled chicken, still slurping down tomato soup and hoping it's just a surge.

It's not. 

Billy finishes his soup.

He manages to keep the feeling in his toes even as he wanders around the house lighting every candle he can find, sticking towels over the cracks in his front door and remembering to turn the faucets on drip so the pipes won't freeze overnight.

Outside the storms keep raging.

Billy can't see the end of the front porch, so he grabs his blankets and heads to bed. Remembers to plug in his phone, on the off chance that the power will come back on while he's out, and Billy feels good about himself for a lot of reasons. For remembering his Midwestern Winter Survival Skills, and buying thermal socks when he went shopping last week, and as the temperature keeps dropping Billy feels himself drifting off.

Warm and safe in his cocoon of blankets, he wonders if the power has come back on when someone bangs on his bedroom window.

Billy sits bolt upright, hissing as cold air manages to snake in through an opening near his feet. The knock comes again, louder this time, and Billy thinks about what he read from that article in the Hawkins Post dated July 5th, 1985. 

"Billy?" 

Harrington is wrapped in a blanket. 

That's all, just a knitted monstrosity of orange and green draped across his shoulders, paired with a black hoodie and the care bears scarf that haunts Billy's dreams. He's got yellow gardening gloves on his fingers and, over his head of wavy brown hair, a pink beanie that reads, If I Die of Aids--Forget Burial--Drop My Body on the Steps of the FDA, in teal block letters.

Steve Harrington could break hearts.

Billy's heart is floating through the air, just. Decimated. As Steve smiles and taps on the window. "I tried the front but I figured you were asleep." He says.

And it takes Billy a minute to find his voice. He opens the window, grimacing at the snow on the ledge that topples in. "What are you doing?"

"I cleared a path. Around the house. By the propane tank." Steve says, gesturing with his stupid little gloves. "I took care of the driveway for you. And put some ice melt down, brought some firewood up to the door."

"Wait, what?"

"I just picked some up from Melvalds yesterday, it's no biggie--"

"The powers out." Billy grumbles, using the corner of his blanket to scrub at his face. "Shouldn't you be stock piling layers, like the rest of us?"

"'S not so bad at home."

"It's colder in here than it is outside."

Steve jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Bane's auditioning to be a starfish on my mattress."

"Push that little fucker over the edge." 

Steve leans back, gripping the window ledge with an easy smile. "I could never do that. We have a system--I let him sleep on my bed every night on the condition that he doesn't shit in the hallway anymore." Steve lifts one hand and taps his forehead, pleased as punch. "Work smarter, not harder. Right?"

And that makes Billy blush. Either from the image of Steve's fat Mainecoon running the show or the fact that Steve lets it happen, even on the coldest night of the year. 

It's sweet. 

Steve's sweet. Like sun tea with extra sugar, just--

"So where does that leave you?" Billy muses, picking at a loose thread on his pillow case just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "It's too cold for the floor, and the living room's gotta be drafty, right?"

Steve shrugs, leaning against the window pane and looking over his shoulder, as if daring the ice to fall again. "I have an extra blanket or two, should be alright."

With his head turned that way Billy can see moles--dozens of little chocolate kisses sprinkled over Steve's skin, swirling and disappearing under the hood at his neck. 

He's beautiful.

Billy thinks the moles could taste like cinnamon or nutmeg. Hot chocolate with little drops of citrus enriching the flavor--

"You could sleep here." Billy's mouth says. 

Steve stares at him, eyes wide, but. Not surprised. Not mean. "Really?" He asks, folding his arms on the window pane and studying Billy's face. Forehead and eyelashes and back again, like maybe this is a joke. "You'd let me sleep on the couch?"

"Sure."

"What makes you think your places' gonna be any better?" Steve demands.

Light.

Teasing.

Billy shrugs again and his stupid blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a strip of hoodie that may as well be his bare fucking skin, the way Steve's eyes track the movement. Filing it away for some unknown purpose even as Billy rights himself again. He feels every bit like the heroine in those shitty dieback erotica's his mom still reads every Saturday morning. The window lets in gust after gust of frigid air and Billy decides that he isn't going to beg.

"I'm not going to beg," Billy reiterates, though he doesn't sound convinced. "Come sleep at mine or don't, that's--"

"Unlock the front door," Steve says, and then he's gone, rainboots leaving a trail of footprints to show that this was real. 

That one night, with ice covering the trees and fields like a blanket of hope, Steve was real.

#harringrove #jaz speaks #it feels good to be writing this one again #I love writing things that have callbacks to weather #it's such an important #often overlooked part of our daily lives #anyway #i hope you enjoy this part!!!

[thefallennightmare]

Vas Prizrak-Three

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1617

Warnings: swearing, some smut, fluff, lots of angst.

Summary:  Bucky and Reader’s life in Wakanda had been everything they ever wanted. But when they are told about the fight that was on it’s way to them, they fear that life would be dusted away for good.

A/N: As you can tell from the gif choice for this chapter, it’s the part that we were all NOT looking forward too. I apologize. 

“UGLY! MOTHER! FUCKERS!,” I bellowed as my knife sliced through an alien's throat, three stabs, as they had me pinned to the ground. 

With a swift kick, it fell to the ground in a heap and I was back on my feet in a flash; just in time to send my knife into another alien's head. 

Thanos’ army was fast, strong, and not all that appealing to look at. It seemed that now matter how many we killed, hundreds more appeared. 

“Bucky?!” I yelled while looking around. 

In the midst of everything, I had become lost in the fray. Bucky and Steve were somewhere on the other end of the battle field. My long hair was a mess, blowing in the winds, as I frantically looked around. I was fighting side by side with the many men of the Wakanda army. 

All too quick, my veins filled with fear and my skin tingled with death. 

Bucky. 

My head snapped to the left and this time, my own anger filled me as I saw the sight in front of me. 

Bucky was on the ground, alien on top of him, as he tried to fight it off of him with his small knife. Darkness took over my vision, clouding my judgement, and the all too familiar warmth spread to the tips of my fingers, sparking to life. 

I shot multiple balls of fire at the alien on top of Bucky, who watched in slight horror as it fell to ash around him. 

“SHE’S BACK!” Sam’s voice yelled into the coms. 

Blinking my eyes a view times, the darkness was gone and I was staring at Bucky’s concerned face. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned, cupping my chin. 

Time had stopped for a split second around us. 

“Never better,” I grinned while smacking my hands together. 

They sparked again, flames burning my finger tips. 

We fought for a few moments longer before coming to a halt when lighting struck around us, causing the fighting to stop. 

A few inches from me stood someone I hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. 

“Long time no see, Thor.” I smiled towards him. 

“Y/N? You changed your hair,” He smirked, ruffling my hair. 

I had almost forgotten that my powers changed it to a vibrant red. 

“You made some new friends?” I pointed towards the racoon and the walking tree. 

“This is my new friend Rocket and Tree,” he introduced. 

“I am Groot,” the tree spoke. 

I nodded. “I am Y/N L/N.” 

“Y/N! I could use some back up over here!” Steve’s voice yelled into the coms.

My feet sprinted over towards him, blasting away any aliens that got in the way. Steve stood in front of me, blood pouring from a wound on his lip and I gently wiped it away. 

I went to speak but felt myself getting pounced on from behind, head smacking hard against a rock. 

“Shit,” I groaned. 

Sharp teeth chomped towards my face and the blood pooling from my forehead caused my vision to fade, in and out. The drool from the alien dripped down on me, an indication that he was seconds away from ending it all. 

The alien was off before I could register that Steve had kicked him, sending him flying meters away. 

“Y/N,” he cooed while helping me to sit up.

“I’m alright,” I stated as I smacked his hands away. “I heal fast, remember.” 

Steve sighed, his fingers brushing against the open wound of my forehead. I couldn’t stop the loud hiss that fell from my lips. 

“GUYS! VISION NEEDS BACKUP!” Bruce’s voice rang through the coms. 

Steve hesitated while looking at me, weighing the decision in his mind. 

“Go, I’ll be fine,” I nodded. 

He was still apprehensive but when I set an alien ablaze that had sneaked up behind him, he knew that I was in fact alright. 

Once he left, I willed myself to my knees, trying to gain whatever strength I had left. This fight had taken so much out of me, not having to exert this much energy in such a long time, and I knew that this was it. 

“I’m going to die alone,” I muttered with a sigh. 

“You’re not alone.” 

Natasha helped me to my feet, brushing the dust off my shoulders. 

“Now, I know I didn’t teach you to give up so easily,” She t’sked. 

“Moment of weakness,” I shrugged. 

Suddenly, the wind had picked up, circling around us with a soft breeze, the air shifted with an uneasy feeling. Natasha and I shared a knowing look and we with a quick nod, we both ran towards Steve and Vision. 

“He’s here,” Vision spoke. 

I turned my back to them, speaking into my com. “Bucky, where are you?” 

Silence. 

“Damnit,” I cursed. 

Steve pulled me closer to him before speaking into his com. “Everyone in my position. We have in-coming.” 

A sudden portal opened in front of us, a giant purple titan stepping out of it. I gasped, the fear of knowing that there would be no way we could stop him loomed close. 

“That’s him,” Banner said. 

Steve looked at me, engaging his shield. “Eyes up. Stay sharp.” 

The flames burned with hate as I shot multiple fireballs towards Thanos, who had easily dodge them. His large hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me with ease. 

“Pathetic,” he spat, throwing me to the side. 

I landed against a tree with a loud, painful groan and I could hear Steve scream my name. My body lay defeated in the dirt, eyes watching as my friends tried to fight against Thanos, only to fail. 

Bucky’s screams came from the bushes, gun firing at Thanos. 

“Bucky!” I yelled, watching him getting thrown in front of me. 

Tired hands and feet crawled over towards him, turning his heavy body over so I could look in his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” I pondered, brushing the hair out of his face. 

“You’re bleeding,” he mumbled. 

His vibranium fingers wiped the blood from my head. 

“I’m okay,” I reassured him with a soft kiss. 

Bucky let out a loan groan, the pain of the fight catching up to him. “I’m starting to think we should have stayed in bed.” 

The giggle that fell through my lips was cut short as the screams of Wanda filled the air. My full attention was on her as I watched Thanos bring Vision back to life, only to end it just as quick, pulling the mind stone from him. Vision’s body fell to a heap on the ground, right next to Wanda. 

“No,” I trembled, tears welled in my eyes.

Thanos stood tall, all six stones in hand. Thor, however, had arrived out of nowhere, laying his axe in Thanos’ chest. But it didn’t matter, no matter how deep Thor dug his axe into Thanos. 

“You should have gone for the head,” Thanos said. 

Before anyone could register what happened, he raised his hand with a quick snap. 

“NO!” I bellowed. 

Thanos’ hand burned, his gauntlet almost to ash, as the aftermath of what he did started to lay around us. 

“What did you do?!” Thor demanded. 

As fast as he arrived, Thanos was gone. 

Steve stumbled his way over to Bucky and I, helping us to our feet. After giving us a quick once over, he turned his attention to Thor. 

“Where did he go?” He questioned. 

“Thor, where did he go?!” I fumed. 

“Y/N?” 

Bucky’s voice was filled with fear and worry as he spoke my name; it came off so quiet from his lips that I almost hadn’t heard.

Steve and I both turned our attention towards Bucky, who suddenly was dusting away with the wind, body disappearing. 

“BUCKY!” I yelled running towards him. 

My knees fell to the ground, hands spreading through the ashes of where Bucky once lay. 

“NO, BUCKY!” 

My scream echoed throughout the forest, the high pitch banshee like yell causing whatever birds there were left to flock away from me. Fire shot from my hands, setting the grass and trees around us a blaze in a warm fire. Everyone winced at the sound of my yells, cries for my lost love, as I buried myself deeper into the ground, hoping that this was a bad dream. Bucky was still here, he hadn’t left me. 

A loud, painful scream had clawed its way through the tough confines of my throat as I doubled over in pain to clutch my stomach. It felt like my insides were being ripped out and with a choking sob, I spit piles of dusty ash to the ground. My fingers shook as I dug into the ground, the realization of what happened coming to light. 

I had now lost every single part of Bucky in the snap. Not only was he gone but what I was growing inside of me had vanished before I even knew it was there.

I was so engrossed in my own pain that I hadn't noticed others had disappeared as well. Until Steve pulled me from the ground, into his chest. 

My cries came out muffled against his suit as I screamed and kicked against him. “He’s not gone. He can’t be!” 

Steve cupped my cheeks, forcing my broken gaze to his. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

Knuckles turned white as I clutched onto him with whatever strength I had left, fearing that he would leave me too. 

“What do we do now?” Natasha asked. 

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted before hushing my cries with a soft kiss to the top of my head. 

For once in his entire life, Steve didn’t have a plan and that absolutely terrified him.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Weaknesses

I watched Avatar: The Last Airbender and my hand slipped oops, I promise I have more spidey stuff coming soon!

Zuko is captured while pursuing the avatar gang. They want to know what he knows about the Fire Lord, but they don’t want to hurt him to get him to talk. A hungry Momo enlightens them on how to do just that. 

word count: 6,236

_________________________________

This was not the outcome Zuko had been anticipating. Bond to a chair made of earth, arms pinned behind his back, legs cemented in place, hands and feet encased in rock no amount of wrenching or fire bending could loosen. Caught and subdued by the avatar and his gang when he was certain he’d had the drop on them. Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph stood around him, arms crossed and eyes steely. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t move. 

After his uncle had fallen asleep, Zuko had spotted the avatar’s bison flying overhead, and snuck away in the night to track them. When he found their campsite, he moved in to try to capture Aang, being as silent and stealthy as possible. But, much to his surprise, hardly a step and a half into his scheme, an earth bending girl rose from one of the tents and captured him instead, trapping him in his current position. Now, instead of the avatar being in his custody, the banished prince of the Fire Nation was in the avatar’s custody. And he was not happy about it.

“Let me go!” Zuko hissed, pulling at his restraints even though he knew it was pointless. Sokka scoffed.

“We’ll pass, thanks.” He and the others stood a few paces back from Zuko so that he couldn’t reach them with any breath-related fire moves—a threat they had deduced rather quickly. 

“Good work, Toph,” Katara said, patting the smaller girl on the back. “That could’ve been really bad.”

Toph shrugged and grinned at Zuko. “You should really learn how to pick up your feet there, princess. You’ve got the gait of a pregnant sloth bear.”

Zuko fumed with frustration, hating the fact he’d been caught so easily. Now he was at the mercy of his enemies instead of the other way around. Meaning they were free to taunt him to his face with zero repercussions. For now, he thought bitterly.

Aang looked at his friends. “Now what do we do? We can’t just leave him here.”

“But we can’t just let him go, either,” Sokka added. “He’s too dangerous.”

“We could knock him out and leave him in a bush,” Katara proposed.

“Or hog-tie him to a porcupig and send it running into the woods,” Toph offered, pounding her fist into her palm.

Aang shook his head. “Come on, guys. We’re not doing any of those things.”

“Wait a minute,” Sokka said, brightening. “He’s the son of the Fire Lord, right? I bet he has insight into his weaknesses, and how Aang can defeat him!” 

Zuko clenched his teeth. Aang grimaced. 

“What are you suggesting, Sokka?” 

“I’m saying, we should interrogate him! Find out what he knows!” Sokka snagged his boomerang from his bag and approached Zuko from behind. Zuko winced in surprise when the edge of Sokka’s weapon dug into his throat, pinning his head to the back of the chair. “Tell us everything you know about the Fire Lord, Fire Nation scum!”

His tone wasn’t intimidating in the slightest, but the feeling of the blade pressed against his neck was enough to send chills down Zuko’s spine. Fortunately, Aang stepped forward, jabbing his staff against the ground. 

“Sokka, stop! This isn’t how we do things!”

Sokka griped and grumbled, but eventually stepped away, withdrawing the weapon from Zuko’s throat. “Fine,” he said, pouting. “But think of all the juicy secrets he must know about the Fire Nation—secrets that could help us win the war and put an end to their tyranny! We may never get a chance like this again!”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Zuko growled.

Katara motioned for everyone to step out of Zuko’s earshot. The group huddled together beside Appa’s slumbering form.

“Aang, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Sokka might be right.”

Aang and Sokka gaped at her simultaneously. “Seriously?” they said in unison.

“We have to get him to tell us what he knows about the Fire Lord. Knowledge like that could help us save countless lives!”

“We didn’t even know he was in the same area as us three minutes ago!” Aang exclaimed. “Since when is wringing information out of our enemies a top priority?”

“It’s an opportunity we’ve never been presented with until now,” Toph said. “We should take advantage of it while we can.”

Aang scowled between his friends, shocked by their sweeping consensus on the matter. He peered around Sokka’s shoulder, eyeing Zuko as he struggled pitifully against Toph’s restraints, then bowed his head. 

“No. We’re not torturing someone for information. It’s not right.”

“No one ever said torture,” Sokka said cooly. “Think of it more as...highly effective persuasion.”

“Maybe we could do something really annoying,” Katara suggested. “Like blow your bison whistle in his ear, or have Sokka sing a bunch of Southern Water Tribe nursery rhymes.”

Toph shuddered. “But that would be torture for all of us. Not just him.”

“Hey! I thought everyone loved it when I sang those!” Sokka sulked. “At least, that’s what Gran-Gran always said...”

Aang swallowed and stared at his feet. “I don’t know. I don’t like this at all. Even if he’s our enemy, it feels wrong—hurting someone who can’t fight back so they’ll tell us something they don’t want to.”

Katara could see the weight of the morality at stake clouding over Aang’s eyes. She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe there’s a way we can do it without hurting him. We could negotiate, or try trading something, or—”

“Hey! G-get off!”

Alarmed, the gang spun back toward Zuko. In the midst of their discussion, Momo had pounced on the fettered prince and was eagerly sniffing his midsection.

“Momo!” Aang cried. “Get away from him! He’s dangerous!”

“Get your stupid pet off me!” Zuko snapped. He moved as much as he could to try to shoo the lemur away, but it continued to snuffle around his torso, its nose prodding his stomach. The feeling took him by surprise, making his breath hitch and his muscles seize. He fought not to react, fought to keep his expression cold and his demeanor colder, but the insufferable little creature would not let up. It was after something underneath his shirt. 

Uncle’s lychee nuts! he realized. Iroh had a habit of stuffing his nephew’s pockets with the things in case the teen ever found himself lost, alone, and without another source of food. Although Zuko would never admit it, he appreciated the gesture—his uncle’s intuition had saved him from starvation in more pinches than one. 

But now was not one of those times. 

Zuko’s face began to burn as the corners of his lips twitched, threatening to turn upward if the lemur didn’t stop. He had to get it off! 

“Agh! S-scram, flea-bag, before I fry you to a—AH!”

To his horror, Momo pulled back his collar and darted down the neck-hole of his shirt. Paws scurried across his torso, a wet nose poked and nuzzled his belly, and a long, fuzzy body wriggled between his skin and the fabric of his clothes. Zuko yelped and sputtered, the heat in his face turning to fire, the laughter he’d been battling back suddenly barreling up his throat like a volcanic eruption. To his dismay, high-pitched giggles started slipping from his lips faster than he could stop them.

“Wha—ahack! Hehey! Get out! Gehet out!” He tugged harder than ever on his bonds, twisting and shifting to try to scare the varmint away, but all it did was make Momo weasel faster and wilder inside his shirt. The lemur’s long tail brushed under Zuko’s arms and wiggled against his neck and ears, sending goosebumps shooting across his skin. He squirmed and thrashed, shaking his head from side to side.

“Gehet it off me!” he squealed.

The four friends blinked as they watched the bizarre scene unfold. 

“Uh…” Sokka said, glancing between the prisoner and his team. “Should we do something?”

A few moments later, Momo crawled out of Zuko’s collar and perched on his shoulder, purring as he nibbled on a handful of nuts. The flustered prince puffed out his cheeks with a shudder, breathless and wide-eyed, his face tinted pink. He could feel his enemies staring at him, digesting what they had just witnessed, and he started to sweat.

“I—I’m gonna k-kill this thing if you don’t get it away from me,” he stammered, trying to feign some semblance of composure. But Momo’s tail continued to swish against the side of his neck as he spoke, making the task exceedingly difficult. He pursed his lips while straining to evade the feathery touch. 

The gang looked at Zuko, then each other, then back at Zuko. The realization dawned on all of them at once.

“Were you laughing just now?” Toph asked.

Zuko cringed, averting his gaze. “W-what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh man! You were!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before,” Katara said with a snort. “I didn’t think it was possible. And even if it was, I expected it to sound more…I don’t know. Evil?”

“Right? It’s so cute and squeaky!” Sokka snickered.

“I was not laughing!” Zuko shouted. Then Momo’s tail brushed his ear, making him wince and crack a smile.

Aang’s face lit up with delight. “It’s Momo! He’s tickling him and making him laugh!”

In unison, the gang turned on him with wide grins. Zuko bristled.

“What?”

“No way! Prince Zu-Zu is ticklish?” Toph cupped her hands over her heart and tilted her head to the side. “Awww. That’s adorable!”

“Quit patronizing me!” he roared. He tried to knock Momo off his shoulder with his head, but only managed to lightly nudge him. Momo responded by nuzzling into Zuko’s neck, purring loudly as he tucked under his chin and whisked his tail along his collarbone. The prince squawked, hiking his shoulders to his ears.

“Ehaha! No! G-get away!”

Toph crossed her arms smugly. “That’s what you get for trying to capture our friend.”

“Zuko: ticklish,” Aang giggled, as if his brain was having trouble comprehending the idea. “It just seems so out of character for him, you know? It’s funny.”

Katara chuckled in agreement. “I think Momo likes him.”

“No—Momo likes food,” Sokka corrected her. A sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Which gives me an idea.”

He marched across the opening to stand at Zuko’s side. The banished prince didn’t notice him; he was too busy biting his lip in attempt to stay quiet, but couldn’t wipe the silly smile and embarrassing blush off his face. Sokka placed his hands on his hips.

“Zuko, tell us how to sneak into your father’s evil lair, or else!”

The request hardly made sense—his father lived in a giant palace, not some secret underground wolf bat cave. Even if he wanted to offer some kind of answer, he doubted he could speak more than a sentence or two before bubbles of laughter swallowed up his words. Still, he had to try to look unfazed. 

“Or ehelse what?” he shot back. His voice came out shrill and brittle, causing his blush to deepen. The stupid lemur would not give his neck a break!

Sokka cocked a threatening eyebrow. Then he extended his arm.

“Momo, look! I think you missed some!”

He opened his hand, revealing another pile of lychee nuts. Before Momo could snatch them out of his palm, Sokka dumped them down the neck-hole of Zuko’s shirt, making him leap.

“Ah! What’re you—w-wait!”

Instantly, the lemur dove back into his shirt, writhing and scampering all over his tummy. Try as he might to fight it, the sensation tickled too much to bear.

“Nohoho!” he giggled, twisting and bucking in protest. Whatever dwindling scraps were left of his facade fell away within seconds. In his hunt for the lychee nuts, the fuzzy little beast pawed and nibbled at Zuko’s bare skin while his ears and tail tickled him like feathers, leaving the poor prince in stitches. His cheeks flushed a shade pinker as he realized how ridiculous and pathetic he must’ve looked at that moment—and in front of his enemies, no less. Zuko’s current disposition was a far cry from his usual grumpy, scowling self, and there was nothing he could do to shake it. The smile spread across his face at that moment was so uncharacteristically bright, the gang couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“That’s what, fire boy!” Sokka replied fiendishly. “Get him, Momo! Do your worst!”

“Ahaha!” Zuko cackled. “I’ll—tohorch you!”

Aang laughed along with him, turning to Katara. “I guess this way isn’t so bad.”

Katara smiled fondly. “This is probably the happiest I’ve ever seen him. But I guess that depends on how you define ‘happy.’”

After circling his torso a couple more times in his lychee nut scavenger hunt, Momo must’ve gotten sick of being inside the twitchy teenager’s shirt. With a shriek and a warble, he shot out of Zuko’s sleeve and landed on Aang’s head, gorging himself on his findings. 

“Good lemur,” Aang said, giving his ear a scratch. Momo trilled contentedly. 

“Don’t let up now! We almost had him!” Sokka dashed toward Aang and tugged on Momo’s tail. “Come on! Do your duty! Your fuzziness is the key to bringing the Fire Nation to its knees!”

Momo hissed at him and took to the skies, winding through the air before disappearing into the woods. 

“I think Momo’s had enough,” Katara declared with a grin. The group turned back to Zuko, who was panting and smiling and flushed to his core. 

“How about you?” Sokka asked wryly. “Had enough yet?”

Even though he was still blushing, Zuko’s eyes flashed with rage. “Let me go!” he demanded again. “You can’t make me talk!”

“Alright, Appa! Your turn!” Sokka pulled on the flying bison’s foot, grunting with effort. “Go! Get him! Lick him into submission!”

“You know we can do this without animals, right?” Toph said, smirking. She strode toward Zuko, her steps pointedly slow and leisurely. The group exchanged a look. 

“Careful, Toph,” Katara called after her. “He can still shoot fire from his mouth.”

“Oh, I bet he can,” Toph said. She stopped a few paces back from him with her hands on her hips, grinning smugly. Zuko glared daggers through the girl even though she couldn’t see him. In the blink of an eye, the earth bender disappeared under the ground then emerged behind him, making the prince start, her icy voice sending a shiver down his spine.

“But I bet it’s hard to control your breathing enough to do so when you’re laughing.”

Zuko’s throat tightened. He hated to admit it, but she was probably right. He could barely perform the move when he was fully concentrated and not strapped to a rock chair.

He almost wished they were hurting him to get him to talk. That would be a far more honorable defeat than succumbing to the childish threat they were making against him now. If he was broken by a bunch of kids sicing lemurs on him, he doubted he would ever live it down. But Toph seemed to have a different plan in mind.

“G-get away from me!” Zuko shouted. He didn’t know what else to do. He hated not being able to see where she was. “Whatever you’re insinuating isn’t going to work! You don’t scare me!”

Toph clicked her tongue. “Insinuating? I thought I was being obvious!” She pounded her heel against the ground, and a stool made of earth rose underneath her, giving her a place to sit right behind the restrained prince. She plopped down with a smile. “I’m going to tickle you.”

Zuko stiffened. She was talking loudly, so the whole group could hear.

“Does that not scare you? Are our assumptions wrong? Are you not ticklish?”

Zuko looked down at his torso. Toph’s hands were hovering a couple inches away from his exposed sides, her fingers spidering threateningly through the air. 

“And in case you weren’t aware, I can tell when you’re lying.”

The heat in Zuko’s neck bled into his ears. “IhI’m—” he stammered, nervous laughter already creeping into his voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No! I’m not!”

The other three approached, the devious delight in their eyes goading his anxiety further. 

“You sure about that, Zu-Zu?” Katara asked. “For someone who’s not ticklish, you were laughing an awful lot before.”

“And blushing like crazy!” Aang added cheerfully.

The teasing was enough to blow his top. Zuko strained against his bonds. 

“Y-you’re all insane!” he yelled. “As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll roast every last one of you like a chicken cow on a spi—AGH!”

Mid-sentence, Toph’s fingers started crawling up his sides, dancing delicately along the skin beneath his ribcage. Zuko gasped, his words cut short, an explosion of giggles already amassing behind his lips. 

“No, go ahead, Mister ‘I’m Not Ticklish.’ Finish it. You’ll roast us how? Like a chicken cow on a what?”

Zuko couldn’t even try to act poised. He’d always been exceptionally sensitive—a fact that irritated him to no end, one his mother used to take advantage of to cheer him up when he was little. Growing up, she was the only person in his immediate family who had ever been physically affectionate with him. His father barely even looked at him; the most attention he’d ever paid his son was when he’d scorched his face in front of the entire royal court. And Azula would never do anything to intentionally make her brother smile. 

After his disgraceful banishment, Iroh had been cautious about showing his headstrong nephew too much affection. He didn’t want to smother him or scare him away. Now, three years into their search for the avatar, he’d thrown almost all that caution to the wind. It didn’t take him long to discover his nephew’s sensitivity, the way he sputtered and flinched when his torso was touched in certain places. 

Iroh was kind enough not to exploit his findings in front of Zuko’s crew; the boy already had a hard enough time commanding their respect as it was, being a moody, exiled sixteen-year-old. But that didn’t stop him from tweaking his ribs or tasering him from behind whenever they were alone. The smiles and laughter these actions elicited were always worth it, despite the loud, long-winded protests that inevitably followed.

It embarrassed him how easy and often his uncle poked fun at his weakness. But he never imagined anyone using it against him as a weapon; a torture method to get him to talk. 

Yet here he sat, bound and helpless, giggling hysterically as Toph’s fingers scoured the lengths of his sides, already desperate for the tickling to stop.

“Hahaha! Quihit it!”

“But you said you weren’t ticklish,” Toph reminded him, scuttling her hands up and down the prince’s twitchy torso. “If you aren’t ticklish, then this shouldn’t bother you one bit.”

Katara, Aang, and Sokka watched in amusement as the once strong and fearsome Zuko dissolved into a squirmy, laughing mess beneath Toph’s wiggly fingers. The color of his face was beginning to resemble the dark red of his shirt.

“Yohou’re—y-you—” Zuko sputtered, grasping for something scathing to say. Toph didn’t give him a chance to find one. Her hands suddenly curled into claws, and she switched from the soft, gentle tickling to kneading mercilessly into both sides of his tummy, driving her fingers deep into his flesh with all the endurance and ferocity indicative of earth benders. Zuko jolted and shrieked, arching his spine to try to get away, his laughter jumping in both octave and volume. 

“AHAHAGH! Wahait—no—s-stohop! I cahan’t—eheeheehaha!”

“Come on, guys!” Toph called, waving them forward. “He won’t bite.”

Grinning, the three friends walked to stand directly in front of Zuko, who was floundering as much as his restraints would allow and smiling as wide as the sun. 

“Not so mean and scary when he’s laughing his butt off, is he?” Katara chuckled. Zuko’s laughter was shrill and happy—two characteristics that completely contradicted his usual demeanor. It was also outrageously contagious; she had to cover her mouth to try to contain her own flood of giggles. 

“I never knew the guy who’s been hunting me all this time could look so cute!” Aang concurred. Watching the Fire Nation prince crumble so spectacularly from such a kiddy tactic was strangely endearing. 

Sokka poked Zuko’s bouncy chest with his boomerang. “Now talk! Answer my question, or Toph will tickle you to death!”

To be honest, Zuko barely remembered what the original question was. Something about fire? And an evil lair? An evil fire lair? His head was too preoccupied with the hands pinching and squeezing his belly to think straight. He couldn’t recall another instance where he’d been tickled this intensely. Being unable to guard himself made the sensation a thousand times worse.

“Goho jump in a lahahake!” he laughed, cursing the cracks and squeaks in his voice. Toph cooed. 

“Aw! Fire Lord Zu-Zu’s trying to be tough!” She drilled into the soft spot underneath his ribs, making the poor prince thrash and squeal. No matter how much he squirmed or what way he angled his body, Toph’s hands stayed glued to his frame, exploring every ticklish inch of his defenseless midsection, targeting the spots that yielded the most frenzied reactions. She noticed the higher her tickle attack climbed up his torso, the shriller his laughter became, coupled with increasingly wilder attempts to escape. Moving maliciously slow, she began scaling Zuko’s ribcage with her hands, her fingers ascending each bone like a rung on a ladder, needling on top and around and in between.

“Ahahaha! Cut it ahahout!” Zuko cackled. She was terrifyingly good at this.

“How long you think you can stand it, tough guy? Five minutes? An hour? I could do this all night!” Her fingers were drawing closer and closer to his underarms, teasing and tickling every rib in between. His shirt did almost nothing to dull the increasingly unbearable sensation. 

Sokka yawned. “As fun as this is, I’d rather not stay up all night, waiting for him to break.”

Toph shrugged, smiling deviously. “I don’t mind. I’m having fun.” She cracked her knuckles and resumed her conquest, her hands inching higher, higher, higher. “Coochie-coochie-coo! Your laugh is so cute I could barf!”

“Stahahahap it!” Zuko giggled. His whole body sizzled with embarrassment; his face hurt from smiling so big for so long.

“Maybe we could help speed up the process,” Katara said, smirking. “If all of us worked together, I’m sure we could get him talking in no time.” 

Zuko was already splitting at the seams from just one person tickling him. If all four of them ganged up on him at once, he would most certainly die on the spot. 

“Ooh, good idea,” Sokka said, wiggling his fingers eagerly.

“Plus, it’d be a fun, benign way for each of us to get him back for all the times he’s personally slighted us.” Katara turned to Aang with a grin. “What do you think?”

At that moment, Toph’s hands reached his armpits. She dug in relentlessly, poking and scratching and prodding, her touch sending shocks through Zuko’s entire skeleton. He jerked and sputtered for a couple of seconds, reeling from how intensely it tickled, before exploding into a whole new caliber of laughter.

“AHANOHOHAHA!” he cried. “GAHA—STAHAHAP—IHI CAHAN’T—AAHAHAHAAAA!”

“Uh oh,” Toph said mockingly, kneading diabolical circles into his underarms. “Did I find your weak point? Prince Zu-Zu’s little tickle spot? You’re in for it now, your highness.”

Sharp, squeaky hiccups began punctuating Zuko’s laughing fit. Aang watched the giggly teen squirm and shriek and smiled sympathetically. 

“Let’s give him a break first. He looks like he’s about to burst.”

Sokka huffed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “You suck all the fun out of interrogating war prisoners,” he muttered. He pointed his boomerang at Toph. “Don’t let up completely, though. If he’s able to focus on his breathing, he might spew another fireball in my face. And I do not enjoy having fireballs spewed in my face.” 

“You got it,” Toph said exuberantly. She moved her hands back down to his belly and started tickling his sides with just her index fingers, changing location and technique every few seconds: wiggling one into his hip while the other poked at his ribs, then swirling one across his tummy while the other fluttered against his midriff, then tasering both into the full length of his torso, lingering in the areas that made him most jumpy, and on and on. 

It was much more tolerable than the previous torture, but still enough to keep him twitchy and giggly. He could never predict where her fingers would tickle him next, trapping him in a constant state of jittery nervousness. As soon as he got close to forcing the smile from his lips, another perfectly calculated poke would slap it right across his face again, paired with a yelp of surprise. 

As he fidgeted restlessly in place, breathless giggles bubbling in his throat, the three kids in front of him stepped closer, looking smug. 

“You ready to tell us how to defeat the Fire Lord?” Sokka asked. 

Zuko wheezed. He had to stall long enough to think of a way out of this. Or at least to catch his breath—as much as he could in his current position. 

“Whahat...does that even...mehean?” he panted. 

“Don’t play dumb!” Sokka snapped. “Your father has a weakness—in his army, his hideout, somewhere. You know what it is. Tell us.”

Toph laughed. “We should try tickling him, too,” she said, giving Zuko’s side a squeeze. “Maybe being super ticklish runs in the family.”

Zuko jolted. “Quihit it! Why would I knohow anything like that?”

“Because you’re his son!” Sokka poked him repeatedly in the ribs. “Evil, Fire Nation, devil spawn!”

“He doesn’t look evil to me,” Katara cooed. “How could someone evil have such a cute laugh?”

Zuko wasn’t sure which was worse: the constant teasing making him blush tomato-red, or the two stiff fingers endlessly probing his ticklish torso. He hung his head to hide his dumb, smiley face. “Sh-shuhut up!”

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Toph asked. “You don’t like being called cute?”

“Who doesn’t like being called cute?” Aang said, boasting a goofy grin.

“Stop wasting our time!” Sokka exclaimed. “If you don’t start talking, you’re going to regret it.”

Just then, amidst her tickling spree, Toph’s hands found the hem of Zuko’s shirt. A smirk touched her lips as she reached underneath the fabric and started scuttling her fingers against his bare sides. The moment her nails made contact with his skin, Zuko yelped.

“Waha! Hehey!” 

“You heard the man,” Toph said smugly. “Answer the question.”

She dragged her fingertips up and down his sides, letting her nails skate across his skin. Goosebumps flared along his arms and neck, spreading like wildfire. It was a gentler kind of tickling, but just as maddening in its own right. She started climbing toward his underarms again, this time with no clothing to dull the sensation. He didn’t think he’d survive if she reached her final destination.

“Ahahastahahap!” Zuko giggled. “I dohon’t know, okay? Yohour guess is as good as mihihine!”

“Liar,” Sokka hissed, looking over the prince’s shoulder. “Toph?”

The earth bender laid her palm against the back of the chair and snorted. “It’s kinda hard to tell whether or not he’s lying like this. His heart’s been hammering the entire time.” She clawed at his ribcage with her other hand, making him squirm helplessly. “But from what I can detect, it seems like he’s telling the truth.”

“No way,” Sokka spat. “He has to know something.”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Aang ventured to say.

Toph’s hand slowed to a stop on either side of his ribcage. All ten of her fingers rested against his skin without moving. Even though she wasn’t currently tickling him, the imminent threat of her nails pressed into his defenseless torso kept him on edge. 

“I dohon’t,” Zuko whimpered. He dropped his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, smiling listlessly. “The only weakness he has is one you already knohow about.”

The gang looked at each other blankly. “Which is…?” Sokka began.

Zuko scoffed, nodding towards Aang. “Him, of course. The avatar. Why do you think my family has been searching for him for the past three generations? Why do you think my father has had me hunting him down since I was thirteen?”

The three kids in front of him exchanged frowns. Toph’s hands slipped out of his shirt. 

“He was definitely telling the truth that time.”

Sokka palmed his forehead. “Aw, man! So we got nothing from all this? No new information?” He stuck his finger in the prince’s chest. “What’s the point of you being the Fire Lord’s son if you don’t know anything about him that helps us?”

“At least it confirms what we already know,” Katara said, wrapping an arm around Aang’s shoulders. “Aang needs to master all the elements and defeat the Fire Lord to end the war.”

Aang smiled and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Fantastic,” Zuko grumbled. “Now would you let me out of this stupid chair? My feet are going numb.”

Katara hinted a grin. “I think I like you better when you’re all giggly and smiley.”

Zuko blushed and stared sideways. “I don’t.”

“If we let him go, how are we going to keep him from attacking or chasing us?” Aang asked. 

Sokka tapped his chin, then cracked into a smirk. “Maybe we should give him a taste of what we’ll do to him if he does,” he suggested. “Avatar gang style.”

The four kids turned on Zuko with a mischievous gleam in their eyes. A fresh rush of heat washed over Zuko’s body.

“W-what?” he stammered, his gaze darting between them rapidly. Dread seized his throat as they approached him from four different sides, making him squirm with anticipation. “But—but you heard Toph! I told the truth! You’re not supposed to punish me for that! You’re supposed to let me go!”

“Don’t think of it as a punishment,” Sokka said innocently, rubbing his hands together. “Think of it as...I don’t know...a warning?”

“Plus, only Toph got to tickle you,” Aang added, forming his own rock stool next to Zuko’s right side. “I want a turn!”

Katara joined Toph behind the chair, leaving over the back rest. “And this is probably our last chance to hear your adorable little laugh,” Katara said. “You know, before you go back to being a moody grouch bent on chasing us to the ends of the earth.”

Zuko burned inside and out. There were four of them and one completely restrained him. He didn’t think he could take it. “W-what if I promise to leave you alone tonight? I’ll go back to my campsite and not bother you until morning. That’ll give you a big head start!”

“I thought that was a given,” Toph said, snaking her hands back under his shirt, her fingernails grazing his tummy. Zuko bristled from her delicate touch. It was already too much to bear. What remained of his fiery resolve crumbled away. 

“Aha! A week then! I wohon’t mess with you for a weeheek!”

“Aww. He’s trying so hard to negotiate his way out of this.” Katara’s fingers brushed both sides of his neck, making him cringe. “Sorry, Zuko. But this is too much fun!”

“Here, Sokka,” Toph said, retracting the earth up his ankles so that his feet were exposed. “Maybe you should try tickling some feeling back into his feet.”

Sokka grinned and sat on the ground, pulling off the prince’s shoes. “Good idea!”

“Noho!” Zuko yelped. He pulled at his bonds and curled his toes in protest. “Thihis isn’t fair! Guhuys—wait—AHAHAGH!”

Aang started poking around his torso, testing and teasing different spots with his soft but frenetic touch. This cued Toph to jump back to his underarms, her fingers fluttering lightly against the hollows. At the same moment, Sokka began gliding two fingers up and down his arches. All of them were tickling him relatively gently, aware of the fact that if they each gave it their all, Zuko might explode. Regardless, having eight hands prod and stroke the most sensitive areas of his body all at once was absolutely maddening, launching him into a hysterical giggle fit. 

“Ahahahaheehee!” He threw his head back, twisting and bucking frantically. “Guhuhuys!”

“This is what we’ll do to you every time you try to capture Aang,” Toph told him, giggling as she tickled the undersides of his upper arms. “Think about that the next time you’re feeling kidnappy.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able take regular ‘ol grumpy-pants Zuko seriously ever again,” Sokka chuckled. “Even when he’s back to shooting fire at us, all I’ll be thinking about is his silly little laugh and goofy smile!”

Hiccups started puncturing his giggles again. So many places on his body were being tickled at once, his brain couldn’t decide which one to focus on. Zuko didn’t care about trying to feign toughness anymore; he just needed this to end. 

“Stahahap! No mohohore! Pleeheehease!”

Katara spidered her nails against the back of his neck, making him shrink into himself with a squeak. “He did say please,” she pointed out.

Just then, a twig broke in the woods, followed by a figure emerging from the tree line. The four friends ceased their attack and glanced up fearfully.

Although he was still dizzy from the onslaught of tickling, Zuko lifted his head and spotted the silhouette as well. The person’s shape was oddly familiar. He realized who it was before the telltale voice rang across the clearing.

“Prince Zuko?” Iroh called, stepping out of the shadows and into the pale moonlight. “Is that you?”

“Uncle!” Zuko cried, relief rushing through him. He thrashed in place. “Hehelp me! I’m trapped!”

“What are you kids doing to my nephew?” Iroh asked, stopping in front of the five of them, although his tone wasn’t particularly angry or concerned. It was more intrigued. 

“We haven’t hurt him,” Katara insisted. “Toph caught him sneaking into our camp and restrained him. We were going to let him go, but then we thought he might have some information on the Fire Lord. So, uh…”

She felt weird about explaining the rest. Fortunately, Aang jumped in for her. 

“So then we tickled him!” Aang said, giving Zuko’s side a couple pinches. The prince flinched and giggled. “We wanted to get him to talk without harming him.”

Iroh smiled at the sound of Zuko's laughter and the happy expression on his face, neither of which had made an appearance in a very long time. They reminded him just how young the banished son of the crown truly was. He shook his head amusedly. “Poor Prince Zuko. It would seem your friends have discovered your weakness.”

“Thehey are nohot my friends!” Zuko cackled. “Just help me, Uncle! Gehet me out of here!”

“He has a very cute laugh, does he not?” Iroh chortled. 

“Disgustingly cute,” Toph agreed, poking his armpit. Zuko squirmed and squealed.

“And an even cuter smile,” Iroh observed. “It’s a shame I don’t get to witness both more often.”

“Uhuncle!” Zuko pleaded, spiraling into giggly shambles. Iroh smiled at Toph.

“Would you please consider sparing my nephew and handing him over to me? I promise he will not cause you any more trouble this evening.”

Toph turned toward the others, waiting for any objections. When none came, she offered Iroh a nod. 

“All right. Stand back, everyone.”

The rest of the group did as they were told. Once they had moved a safe distance away, she punched her fists toward the ground, and the chair fell apart, along with the rock cuffs on Zuko’s hands and feet. He hit the earth with a grunt, flustered and panting.

Iroh approached him and helped him stand. Zuko hugged his midsection with a moan.

“Uhugh...my sides,” he whined. His skin felt tingly and his belly still bubbled with hundreds of giggly butterflies, making it difficult to keep from smiling. He wanted to snarl at the group, to swear they were going to pay for what they’d done to him, but he was too exhausted and embarrassed by the whole situation to summon the energy. Iroh wrapped an arm under his shoulders to support him.

“Thank you for not harming my nephew,” Iroh said to the four kids. “I owe you all a great debt.”

“Don’t...th-thank them,” Zuko huffed.

“But I must,” Iroh retorted. He tweaked the young prince’s side. “They reminded me how to brighten you up whenever you’re being a downer.”

Zuko flinched away, trying to look angry but betrayed by a giggly grin. “Ahagh! Ehenough already!” He whirled around. “You’re all crazy! I’m leaving!”

Zuko stomped toward the woods, smoke hissing from his fists, blush burning through his face and ears. The group laughed.

“This was fun, Prince Zu-Zu. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Sokka waved. “Visit again soon! Next time, we’ll have Appa join the fun!”

Zuko did not like the sound of that. Although part of him found some tiny flicker of release in laughing authentically for the first time in almost three years, he was perfectly fine with waiting another three years for the next instance to occur. After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

#ticklish!zuko #atla #atla fic #tickle fic #avatar #avatar tickle fic #zuko #tickling #avatar fic #avatar tickle #avatar tickling #sfw #sfw tickling #aang #the last airbender #katara #uncle iroh #iroh #sokka #atla tickle fic #toph

[squirrelcrow-po3]

Into the Wild Rewrite: Prologue

← Allegiances | Chapter 1 →

Tufted ears pricked at the sound of scurrying across the yellowing, dead grass below. A dark brown form nearly pounced from the brush, but a darker figure had already claimed the rodent, clenching fur in their jaws. “Good job, Ravenpaw,” a voice called, slithering beside Tigerclaw and stepping from the sparse bush. “I see Spottedleaf is teaching you well.” The small black cat gave an enthusiastic nod. “Of course, Redtail! You know your sister is the smartest in the Clan,” the apprentice replied. The tortoiseshell gave a stifled laugh in response. “Yes, she never fails to remind me.”

Tigerclaw finally left the covering of the dead greenery to meet the other two cats. “This is a patrol - not time to chat,” he said with a grunt. Suddenly, a smaller molly leapt down from the tree branches above. “Oh calm down,” she said to the older warrior with a flick of her tail. “Ravenpaw already caught something, so we can relax.” Redtail stiffened slightly. “A mouse doesn’t feed our whole clan, Mousefur. You know this,” he sighed. The molly nodded gravely. The deputy turned to walk off, motioning with his tail for the others to follow. “Now, keep quiet. We’re approaching RiverClan territory.”

Ravenpaw padded after his mentor’s brother, trying to hide the scent of fear beginning to emanate from him. He had never been to the Sunning Rocks before, let alone so close to RiverClan. The group of cats stalked from the safety of the trees towards the river. The small black cat’s eyes lit up with the moonlight glittering off the rocks under his paws. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. His gaze was ripped upwards once the cats had spotted a plump vole by the riverbank. Tigerclaw’s posture quickly lowered into a crouch, preparing to spring onto the rodent. But again, a flash of fur swooped in and snatched the prey before he could strike. A frustrated growl bubbled in his throat, expecting one of his clanmates to celebrate their catch, before he realized who had caught the vole. “RiverClan!” he hissed, lunging forward at the foreign warrior. 

The tortoiseshell snapped up. “Tigerclaw, no!” he screamed. The brown tabby lifted his head in confusion and whipped his head towards the water to see several cats snaking from the bank. He should have known more RiverClan warriors were lying in wait. “Ravenpaw! Get out of here!” the deputy shouted at the apprentice, who quickly scampered off into the bushes. He refused to let any apprentice, especially the medicine cat’s, to be injured in a border scuffle. Quickly, another tom tackled Tigerclaw off his clanmate. Most of the RiverClan warriors were unrecognizable to the ThunderClan cat, but he knew this one. How could he not? “Oakheart,” he hissed, “how dare you allow your Clan to hunt here? The Sunning Rocks belong to us.” The ruddy tom stifled a laugh. “After tonight, not anymore,” Oakheart said lowly. He raised up a paw to claw at him, but the larger ThunderClan cat kicked his legs into the other tom’s belly, pushing him off.

“ThunderClan, retreat!” Redtail announced, realizing that they were fighting a losing battle. Three warriors winning against a majority of RiverClan was not possible, no matter how much Redtail hated to admit defeat. The sound of yowling cats made Tigerclaw’s ears fall, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Mousefur, help me!” he said, defying Redtail and running back towards the water and incoming RiverClan warriors. The molly glanced between her two clanmates before begrudgingly following after Tigerclaw. The deputy grumbled to himself before chasing them down the hill. 

Tigerclaw had gone back after Oakheart, while Mousefur was fighting off two RiverClan warriors much larger than himself. Redtail saw that she was obviously losing, but stayed back for a moment. When one of the cats bit down on the dusty molly’s neck, he rushed in and shoved him off her. “Mousefur! Listen to me! Get out of here, now!” he screamed in her face. Her ears pinned against her head as she rushed off towards the treeline with her tail between her legs. The tortoiseshell then grabbed Tigerclaw by the scruff and tore the larger tom away from Oakheart. He didn’t need to say anything, just ran away from the river. The tabby glanced back to Oakheart with narrowed eyes before running after his clanmates. “RiverClan will never be defeated!” he heard a voice cry as he ducked into the shrubbery.

---

Bluestar’s paws were tense against the short grass as she gazed up at the sky. Another molly padded from her den and sat down beside her with a small, reassuring smile. “How is she?” the leader asked her. “Mousefur will heal in time. There is no need to worry, Bluestar,” the medicine cat responded, placing her tail on the other molly’s lower back to calm her.

“Thank you, Spottedleaf,” Bluestar said. “I just worry about Redtail and Tigerclaw… They haven’t returned with Ravenpaw.” She shook her head, her brows knitted together. “I knew they shouldn’t have gone but Tigerclaw insisted. ThunderClan hasn’t been beaten since I became leader.” Spottedleaf tried not to show that she was worried for her apprentice as well. “The first defeat after many victories is always the sourest,” she said, following Bluestar’s gaze up to the sky, “StarClan has been silent for the past moons.” The leader next to her sighed in defeat. Beyond that, silence rang between the two mollies.

Suddenly, light flooded the dark night sky, making Spottedleaf’s eyes go wide and fur stand on end. Visions of blazing storms ravaging the forest filled the mollies head; a small, starry cat was standing in the center of the destruction. The cat stepped forward, placing their paw in the center of the medicine cat’s chest. Their touch seemed gentle, but she felt like she was suffocating, the heat of the fire beating against her pelt and filled her chest. Words came from her trembling mouth as her sight was restored, returning her to ThunderClan’s camp. “Fire…” the tortoiseshell muttered, “fire alone will save our Clan.” 

The leader gave her a quizzical look. “Fire?” she gawked, “fire only brings destruction to the forest… It would ruin our Clans!” Spottedleaf’s troubled expression only grew as she winced in pain. “I’m not sure what it means, Bluestar. But that is what StarClan wished for us to know.” The blue cat nodded solemnly, brushing her fur against the medicine cat’s to ease her. “Then it shall be. Fire will save our Clan.”

---

Tigerclaw didn’t dare say a word as he walked behind Redtail towards camp. Suddenly, the other tom stopped and turned his head. “I don’t think I have to say this, but I hope you realize the mistake you made tonight.” The brown tabby’s eyes glared down at the smaller cat. 

“RiverClan was hunting on our territory, how could you allow that?” Tigerclaw snapped. “Our cats must be fed. Goldenflower and my kits must be fed.” He thought of his mate and kits back in camp. Redtail barely flinched at his clanmate’s harsh words. “And now they might not be because of you.” He flicked his tail dismissively. “Now get back to camp and apologize to Mousefur for almost getting her killed. You’ll be cleaning the elder’s den for this.” The idea of them going hungry pained him more than he could explain.

Tigerclaw couldn’t hold back a hiss. “I’m not a tiny apprentice you can boss around,” he spat, pushing past Redtail to pad into camp. The deputy didn’t take a moment to think before blurting out: “well you’re acting like one.” The brown tom growled, whipping his whole body towards Redtail. He had barely heard the rustling of tiny paws moving through the bushes as anger clouded his vision...

#warrior cats #warrior cats rewrite #into the wild

[snarky-bee]

Dreams

Zevran was on watch. His back was silhouetted against the low burn of flames. He faced outward into the dark, with an ankle crossed underneath one leg. The stir of bushes and trees rustling in the wind and the occasional pop of wood crackling were the only sounds. It was late. The moon was a mere haze of white light obscured by clouds; a chill hung in the air.

Kallian wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the blanket tightly to her shoulders while a gust of wind tried to strip it from her.

Her footsteps rustled grass and crunchy leaves. She watched Zev’s ears twitch briefly but he didn’t turn. She plopped down on her knees behind him and wrapped her arms, blanket and all, around his shoulders. Her cheek pressed to his shoulder blade. He was warm from the fire.

“Up before dawn?” Zevran murmured. She could feel the rumble of his voice in her chest. It comforted her. “I heard you tossing back and forth.”

She was still groggy, but falling back asleep on her own sounded worse than seeking Zev out even in the cool autumn air. “Darkspawn shit,” she said by way of answer.

It was getting worse. Alistair had said it was worse for those who joined during a Blight, but for the first few months, she had dreams maybe once a week and always fell back asleep right away. Now it was strange if she went a night without the archdemon invading her mind. 

She sighed and nuzzled her nose into Zev’s neck. Blond hairs tickled her face as the wind teased his loose hair. 

“You should go back to sleep, my warden,” he soothed. His hand fell on hers, rubbed the stretch of skin between thumb and pointer finger. He chuckled lightly and scoffed. “What a fool I am. Suffering here under this Fereldan cold and sending you and your warmth away from me.”

That dragged a smile from Kallian and she squeezed him tighter. “Only you would complain when you’re sitting next to the fire.”

“The fire is nothing compared to your body, mi amor,” he sighed dramatically. “While in your presence, the fire is mere sparks but you are the warmth of the sun.”

Her face warmed up. Pure flattery. She laughed it away nervously. “You’re so dramatic, Zev. It’s barely even dipped into fall. Wait til fucking winter comes. The very idea of undressing will make your balls shrink,” she cackled.

“What an appealing image,” he said with a frown clear in his voice. “Makes me want to escape to Antiva before it is too late. You are welcome to tag along of course.”

A heavy silence settled over them.

Neither could escape to anywhere. The Blight was in Ferelden. The Crows were in Antiva. 

“I hate being a fucking warden,” she mumbled.

“If you were not a Grey Warden, what would you do? Who would you be?” Zevran asked suddenly.

What would she do? “I was a thief before so… that?”

“As you have said. I imagine if circumstances were different, you would choose a different life, no? Or have you always aspired to pick unsuspecting patrons’ pockets?”

“When I was little I used to say dumb shit like I wanted to be a ship captain. Me, an elf, captain of a ship - or a pirate.”

Zevran cackled. “I have a certain fondness for pirates. Were I to meet you at a port I have no doubt we would have an exciting tryst. Imagine you and I, a dark tavern on the ports of Antiva city, mm? Wine flowing, shared looks across the room. I offer to buy you a drink, you flirt a little, I flirt back. One thing leads to another and your legs are wrapped around my hips as we tangle in the sheets.”

Kallian sucked in a deep breath. She could almost imagine it. Sea air, a sexy stranger in the dark with a handsome smile… 

“And you wouldn’t even have to try to kill me first.”

Zevran chuckled again. “True at that. I imagine getting you into bed would have taken far less effort on my part.”

“Hey!” Kallian flicked his chin. “I’m not that easy.”

He grabbed her wrist and nibbled on her finger with a playful bite. “Perhaps not, but I am incredibly handsome and charming. If we were strangers meeting for the first time?”

She bumped her forehead softly against him. “Fine, maybe if we were strangers looking for a spot of fun, yeah. And what are you in this then? Still an assassin? What did you dream of becoming when you were a kid?” 

“Like all Antivans, I dreamed of becoming a wealthy merchant. I imagined myself in a palace draped in gold, the finest silks and richest of brandy. I would want for nothing and have everything I ever desired.”

“Antivans aren’t the only ones who want nice things.” Kallian sighed a little wistfully. “I never kept any of the shit I stole. Someone would notice if I suddenly had a fancy necklace worth more than a year’s pay. An elf with pretty jewelry can only be two things: a thief, or a whore,” Kallian scowled.

“Ah, I know too well how it feels to not be allowed to keep the things you want. Truthfully, I once ran away to join the Dalish,” Zev said, uncharacteristically muted. “I told you before, that my mother was Dalish?”

Kallian nodded.

“I had nothing but a pair of gloves from her. I made up stories in my head as a child, of what she was like, of what my life could be if I were one of the feared Dalish hunters. Being the son of a Dalish whore made me special, or so I believed. It was a point of fascination for many years.”

“Did you find a clan?”

Zevran stared out into the moonless sky. “I did. When a clan came near Antiva city, I approached them. But as you can imagine, fantasy never quite matches up with reality. I did not fit in. I was too Antivan, you might say. Life in the woods, hunting for your next meal, I was poorly suited to it.”

“So… you left? Wasn’t it better than the Crows at least?”

Zevran chuckled wryly. “I came back with my tail between my legs like a properly chastised street dog. They had me convinced of course, after thorough punishment for my disloyalty, that my talents were best used for the Antivan Crows. Perhaps they were right… The gloves were missing from my belongings not too much later, but these were never lives meant for you and I, were they? It is best to accept my place and move on.”

Kallian felt a rush of affection towards him. A longing to protect Zev from more hurt. “I’m sorry they stole your gloves. I have so much from my mother: her boots, passed down clothes, but the one thing I wish we had was her dagger. It was passed down from her side of the family. Someone must have taken it when she was killed… It had an engraving in elvhen that means ‘Fang’ or so she said.”

“Like your mabari?”

“It’s a fitting name for a warhound, I thought,” Kallian pouted.

“Mmm, indeed.” 

Another pensive silence passed, his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. “I suppose it does no good to dwell on dreams and wishes that may never come true now. People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all.”

Sorrow pierced her chest. Once she had been happy, happy enough at least for her lot in life. “I never really wondered what I might actually want when we’re all more worried about having a job at all. I fucking wish I knew what I wanted to do. I still don’t and I’m already roped into this whole warden for life deal.”

She hadn’t noticed her hands clenched into fists until Zevran was prying them off his shirt. 

“Being a warden is not what you hoped it would be?”

“I…” Kallian didn’t know how to answer that. “It’s not like it’s bad. Freedom, doing good, saving the world, right?”

Zevran’s shoulders shrugged and then he twisted in his spot, tugged Kallian to his side so he could look in her eyes. His thumb brushed against the skin beneath her eyes. She had bags and the beginnings of dark circles, she knew. She longed for his touch to linger on her skin. Her eyes closed, she leaned closer to him and sighed.

“The lack of sleep, constant darkspawn fighting, and I hear the severance package is utterly terrible,” Zevran teased knowingly. 

“Mmm,” Kallian agreed. Flashes of her dreams played in her mind’s eye - so much screeching, an endless marching and a black void. “I’m so tired.” She could hear it even in her voice, like her throat was parched of water.

“I will wake Wynne early,” Zev said abruptly, “Let us catch more sleep before the sun forces us to rise again.” 

#zevran arainai #kallian tabris #zevlian #zevran x tabris #fic #OCtober #snarky writing

[hazbincalifornia]

Prey

Chapter 26: Hunting is fun, right?

Warnings: Mpreg, canon-typical violence.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Why are you wearing a coat?” Moxxie raised an eyebrow as he lowered his binoculars, and Blitzo growled from low in his throat, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Because I’m cold? Seems pretty obvious to me, Moxx.” His teeth chattering together like wind-up monkeys agreed.

“It’s seventy-five degrees out. I checked the weather here before we left to be sure it wasn’t raining, and I can feel it. It’s warm out here.”

“I said that I’m cold. Can’t a man know his own body?” Blitzo tugged the coat tighter around his middle- or at least, as much as he could. The bump had, infuriatingly, nearly outgrown the coat, but that was fine, because it was the one spot on him that wasn’t frozen like a tongue on a metal pole. It was practically boiling, actually, suctioning all the heat out of Blitzo’s body like a leech in a black hole and leaving all extremities shivering in a way reminiscent of poor street orphans. Millie reached over to snap off a square of the chocolate bar that Blitzo was holding, and her eyes widened as she brushed his fingers in the process.

“Aw, Moxxie, he’s right, he is cold! He’s-” She paused, concern gathering like storm clouds. “Really cold, actually. Are you sure you should-”

His fingers tightened around the gun in his free hand. “I’m not going home. I’m not letting this shit bench me, nothing has to change until I can shove the little cretin out and figure out what to do with them, got it?” Blitzo swatted at her hand, and she pulled back with her mouth screwed to the side and lips pursed.

“Hmmph. I’m just saying, I don’t really remember Mama or Daddy going through anything like this. I don’t think it’s a normal imp thing, is all, so you don’t know-”

“I know that if I sit at home with nothing to do, I am going to fucking lose it, so chill, alright?”

“Chill is the last thing you need, apparently,” Moxxie grumbled, and Blitzo smacked him with his tail, getting a little yelp out of the smaller imp before Millie stuck a hand over both of their mouths.

“C’mon,” she muttered, “We need to focus, they’re looking our way.”

Blitzo licked her palm, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got four siblings, Blitz, that stopped working on me when I was eight.” Her fingers dug into his cheeks before letting go and he huffed, shuffling on his haunches and stuffing the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth. Already, his stomach was growling again- stupid kid was being even more high-maintenance than usual. For that matter, more everything.

That morning, he’d woken up half-frozen to the bed with blood practically freezing under his skin, his stomach nearly a full inch bigger than it had been the night before with his skin itching like fuck because of it and stretchmarks creeping around the edges to boot. The binge last night must have all gone to plumping the little bastard up or something, because of course it had. (He could still feel where the kid had torn up, but it was manageable now with a handful of painkillers, at least.)

Fortunately, he had a coat in the back of his closet at work from when they’d gone to the arctic to knock off a scientist who’d stolen their target’s research, and he’d gotten it a size too big just in case he’d needed to hide one of the bulky weapons inside.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized that until after the client meeting.

____

“So he just left me there after I checked his gun and it went off.” The client, a deer-form sinner, had raised an eyebrow, camo jacket rustling as he folded his arms with a twitch of his ear. “Hey, how come your little lackey’s in a suit but you aren’t? It’s all unprofessional and shit. You look like a marshmallow.”

Blitzo growled, tugging his (not stretchy enough) shirt down. The light pink fabric bounced back up anyway. Traitor.

“And you ended up in Hell. We all make bad choices sometimes. Just tell me where the fucking gig is, alright?”

____

Blitzo shook his head as the leaves rustled- he needed to focus. He could not become a liability, even though leaving the warmth of Hell for the more temperate heat of Earth chilled his bones better than any iced coffee ever could.

“Gimme the rundown, Moxx. How’s it looking?”

“There’s four of them around the fire. One woman, three men, all in camouflage clothing. All wearing hunting caps for some reason too, even though this weather’s far too warm for it for most humans, I would think. Perhaps it’s some kind of pack-bonding thing.” Moxxie adjusted the binoculars a bit. “The target is the short one with the red hair.”

“G-got it,” Blitzo said, rubbing his arms. If he any hair on them, it'd be standing up. Fire sounded good. Fire sounded really good. “When reddie breaks off from the bunch, we nab them. The client said he doesn’t care if the others get hurt in the process as long as we weren't charging extra for it, he wanted the party all back together anyway.”

“Right,” Millie said with a nod. “As soon as-”

“They’re all moving out at once,” Moxxie hissed, cutting her off. “They were talking but I couldn’t hear what, the target’s being left to guard the fire.”

“It’s almost too easy,” Blitzo said, twirling the gun in his hand and before splitting off and creeping through the underbrush, each footstep sinking slightly into the damp, muddy ground with a squelch as Moxxie hissed something after him that he couldn’t quite hear. The foliage was thick enough here that he lost sight of the fire for a moment, but the cozy, flickering warmth drew him like a snake to a flute, yellow sparks creating dancing shadows off the trees- but with no long shadows to reflect except for his own. “Wait, the hell did he go?” The firepit was still crackling merrily away, but the target had vanished. He raised an eyebrow, turning back to their hiding spot. “C’mon, where is he? You go blind in the last two minutes, Moxxie?”

“He was just here- he must have stepped out to go to the bathroom,” Moxxie whisper-hissed. “Be careful, they’re-”

“C’mon, Moxxie, I’m not an invalid.” Blitzo stuck his hand in the already-opened bag of marshmallows and stuffed one in his mouth. The pops and snarls of the fire were filling the aches of his bones with soothing jelly, and his legs wobbled a little as he swallowed down the gooey snack. “I’ll go find ‘em, just… just a second…”

“Sir…”

“Relax, it takes more than ten seconds to piss.” Blitzo reached for the marshmallows again, fingers already in the bag when-

“Blitz!” Millie called out just as pain exploded through the back of his hand, and a screech bubbled up from deep in his chest as he automatically smacked his other hand at his wrist, brain taking precious milliseconds to process whatever the fuck had just happened.

There was a knife. Impaled. On his hand. Black blood spurted out in waves over his skin and sleeve, and he yanked the fingers close to his body as shrieking erupted from the bushes.

“Ha! Thought I heard somethin’! Those horns are gonna look real pretty mounted on my wall!” Red hair fell over a tanned and freckled face, and Blitzo’s fingers twitched, nerves going haywire as his other hand fumbled for something, anything, he’d dropped the fucking gun when he’d grabbed at his wrist, fuck, shit- there! His fingers clasped a small bottle and he chucked it full force at the human. It shattered, foul-smelling yellow liquid splattering his face as he sputtered and spat. “What the fuck?” The human fumbled for his weapon to retaliate, but-

BLAM!

-That was going to be rather difficult, considering his head was now in about twenty pieces, several of which splattered Blitzo's face and slid down before he brushed them off, licking at his cheeks.

“Blitz!” Millie called, hurrying down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-”

“Put your h-hands up!”

Blitzo whirled around, automatically dropping into a hunched crouch with his non-injured arm wrapped around his stomach. He hissed as the other humans from the hunting party of doom scrambled back to the firepit. God, his hand hurt.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled in a lower timbre than he’d ever heard himself drop to, and the one in the front froze, leading the woman to shove her way upwards.

“You killed Todd!”

A bang and she collapsed to her knees, clutching at her chest before another shot went straight through her skull. A cawing crow took off from a nearby tree, rustling the leaves.

Fingers clasped his elbow, and he could smell mint- Moxxie’s mouthwash. “The target’s down, we need to-”

“I wanna rip them to pieces, they got me,” Blitzo growled.

“Millie and I can take care of- eep!” Another shot cracked off above their heads, and Moxxie dragged Blitzo to the side as a huge branch slammed down where they’d been. “You’re in no shape-“

“I’m fine!” Sweat poured down over Blitzo’s eyes, and- were there two of Moxxie all of a sudden? When did he get a twin? He didn't have a twin. Blitzo would have found that out by now.

“No, you aren’t! You’re risking all of us, call Loona so we can clean- gah!” Moxxie kicked at the air furiously as one of the remaining hunters lifted him up like a ragdoll and dragged him away, screaming all the while as he twisted and writhed in their grip. Blitzo saw red. His tail snapped like a whip as he leaped forward and bit furiously at the mound of protesting, shaking meat, and a sharp shock grazed the side of his chest before blood gushed from the human's throat as he tore the jugular out with his teeth. Inside, the kid kicked out, doing their best to distract him, but nothing was going to keep him from-

“Moxx! Blitzo!” The head cracked mere inches from his face as Millie slammed a knife into the neck and snapped the spinal cord, and a gurgling scream cut off before two pairs of hands hauled him back from the fresh corpse. He snapped his teeth, heels digging into the damp ground as he strained forward. He needed to dismember it, he needed to tear it to pieces, he needed to fucking destroy it-

“And stay down, you fucking bastards, don’t fucking touch them-“

“It’s- it’s fine, he didn’t hurt me,” Moxxie said, dragging Blitzo back by the arm. “He maybe bruised my arms at best.”

“They’re dead, Blitzo, we can go home.” Millie agreed, and their combined strength forced Blitzo to take a breath, falling limp.

“…So sloppy, the ones with guns didn’t even get a shot in.”

Moxxie sucked in a breath. “About that…” He pressed his fingers to the side of Blitzo’s pecs, and Blitzo groaned out a ‘fuck’.

“It doesn’t look too bad, it should be fine with some painkillers and a tourniquet,” Millie commented. “The hand is much worse.”

Being reminded of that sent a white-hot flare of pain scurrying up his nerves, and Blitzo hissed. “Riiiiight.”

Millie fired off a text, and by the time Blitzo turned around, the portal had opened in front of them. He took one step before nearly eating dirt, and Millie and Moxxie grasped him under the armpits and hauled him through, the office the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.

“What happened?” Loona asked, fingers tightening around the Grimoire.

“It went badly,” Moxxie grunted. “Get the first aid kit.”

Loona didn’t argue.

________________

Well, he was definitely on too many painkillers to be fully healthy for the kid at this point considering how much it took to be anywhere near effective on him, but he wasn’t bleeding out, his hand wasn’t screaming at him anymore, and his shirt had probably gotten ruined by all the stretching out even before his side started bleeding all over it, so…

Okay, yeah, fuck trying to spin it, this just plain sucked shit-flavored asshole. Millie finished tying off the bandage around his hand as he sat in his chair and Moxxie paced around his office.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Come-” Blitzo coughed. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the chills were creeping back up everywhere the blood wasn’t still rushing to, and he couldn’t help but lean closer to Millie and her precious body heat. “-Come on, getting hurt in the field is just part of the job.”

“Yes, but you’re not thinking clearly anymore, and you’re risking-”

“I am so thinking clearly!” Setting aside the fact that if he blinked too much Moxxie duplicated himself again, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

Moxxie continued as if he hadn’t spoken, rude little shit. “You’re risking yourself, both of us, and, yes, the baby!”

“Oh, and they’re the one that matters here.” Blitzo rolled his eyes, but Moxxie folded his arms, tail swaying like a pendulum and nails drumming on his bicep.

“I know that your feelings about this are mixed, but I would never forgive myself if you went out there and got both of you killed because you’re a stubborn jackass.”

“He’s right,” Millie added.

“Don’t you dare team up on me,” Blitzo snarled, lead settling in the pit of his stomach as Millie stood up, drying her hands off with the towel borrowed from the bathroom- they were going to have to replace that. It had been white with little galloping horses around the bottom, and they were all so covered in black now that you couldn’t even see them anymore. He knew from experience that imp blood never came out of white fabric no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“We will if we have to- I’d do the same for anybody,” Millie said, balling the towel up and dropping it on the desk. “You lasted a lot longer than most people would, but there’s no shame in taking some time off so you don’t end up killin’ the little one before they even get a chance to see the world.”

“What about me, huh? Don’t I get a say in this? This is my company!” He shoved himself off the chair, but Millie pushed him back down. Her hand burnt where it touched his chest.

“C’mon, Blitzo, you need to be resting- I care about you, alright? Both’a us do.”

“Oh, sure, that's why you're not letting me make my own decisions as a grown-ass man." He narrowed his eyes.

“If we didn’t, we’d just let you go out and get yourself killed by the next target who has a gun,” Moxxie retorted. “I’m not going to let you drag all of us down with you, and I’m not going to keep working out in the field with you if you’re going to be a liability!”

“Are you threatening to quit?” Blitzo tried to get up again, and again Millie pushed him back down- far easier than she should have been able to, but if it was the blood loss or the baby weight was anybody’s guess.

“Of course not- maybe? I don’t know!” Moxxie rubbed his forehead. “I just-”

Millie shifted over to him, squeezing his shoulders. “We get what you mean, honey.” She turned back to Blitzo. “I know you wanna always do your best and work hard for IMP, and I’ve got nothing but praise for that, but-”

“But nothing! I can do this, end of story!”

Millie raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps back towards him and poking Blitzo right where she’d just wrapped the gunshot wound, and he couldn’t hold back a pained whine. “Suuuuure you can.”

“If you insist on still coming to work, just-” Moxxie sucked in a breath. “Just take over Loona’s job. Maybe she can help us, but Millie and I handled things fine when you were gone, we can keep things running.”

“Like hell you can!” Icy hands squeezed at his chest as Millie patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Blitzo.”

He smacked her hand away. “Don’t tell me I’m useless, I don’t need your fucking pity-”

“But you do need us,” Millie replied. “We want to help, isn’t that enough? There’s only another month and a half or so until they’ll be here, after all. You've got a lot to get sorted, and it's the least we can do.”

Blitzo just stared with wide eyes as his knifed hand screamed with every minute twitch of the nerves and tendons within. Moxxie raised an eyebrow with his arms crossed, and Millie considered the towel on the desk before dropping it in the trash. It left behind little splatters of his blood on the polished oak as he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck both of you.”

(Which meant, unfortunately, ‘you win for now’, and it was only because he was about to pass out in his chair.)

#one time #helluva mpreg #daddy blitzo #shadow writes stuff #surprisingly this one is NOT v0re eheh

[ill-skillsgard]

Bred For Blood - Part 17 - The White Flag

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ - sex/mature language & themes/gun violence/substance abuse etc. *mentions of blood/injuries/death/weapons/coma/unconsciousness in this part*

Characters: AU Axel Cluney, AU Ivar Lothbrok, AU Valter x OC

Description:  A bright, young survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to a prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly forest. Violence and passion incite a battle of fealty while betrayal nips at Zed’s heels.

Note: This one’s for Team Cluney. I really hope you guys enjoy reading! This part was very exciting for me to write for many reasons. Please reblog/like/comment if you like my work and want to give me a virtual pat on the head. I would really appreciate it, please and thank you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

The doctor stomped over the rocky terrain, muttering and snickering to himself as the sun cast blistering rays on their backs. The heat never bothered him, only tanned his skin to a deep brown shine. It was the walking that made his knees burn. He'd long since shed his white coat to cover the bulk of the man draped over Rudie's wiry-haired hump, trudging along at leisure. The unconscious hunter he'd found needed all the protection available from the vicious star reaching its highest point in the sky.

The doctor halted his gangly steed every hour to force a measure of water down the burnt man's ululating throat. He often succeeded, and the hunter swallowed without issue, but sometimes, the water came back up as white foam, trickling down the sides of his face and down his neck. The onset of heatstroke turned his skin apple-red, and the doctor sprayed him down with water and gusts of hot air produced by a tattered paper fan he carried with him to ward off flies. Rudie attracted the pests who made a chariot out of the man on the camel's back. They fled their caravan whenever the doctor stopped to check on his patient and settled back in for the ride after he threw the stained coat back over the hunter's burnt shoulders. This went on until nightfall when the dry land showed signs of mercy, and water and shale gave way to the soil. 

Rudie let out a guttural complaint when they reached a crop of tall, spindly trees. The diamond-shaped leaves provided shade. The doctor tethered the bleating animal, pressing his finger to his lips for a silence that would not come. Upon unsaddling the groaning man, Rudie threw his hump and sent Axel slumping to the ground, his deadweight at odds with a lengthy fall. His head cracked on a root, and a dusting of earth dried his palette, clinging to everything pink in his mouth. The camel clopped away from the whining mass who'd hitched a ride on his back, and in his wobbling dance, mashed the smallest of Axel's fingers into the soil. 

"Rudie! You bumbling old idiot! You gaffer! Shoo!"

The beast side-stepped, snorting and sputtering, indifferent to the further damage done to the man. He shook his proud head, throwing ropes of spit that webbed his lashes. The doctor punished the creature by re-wrapping Axel's hand after a stern disinfecting, withholding the proverbial oats until the animal wandered away to dine on low-hanging leaves. Rudie chuffed whenever the doctor came to retrieve supplies from the riding satchel.

"That wasn't very nice, Rude. This man is our patient! We don't trample the patients. You've no idea the level of harm you caused! He'll be lucky if we don't have to amputate, and you don't have thumbs, so you're even more useless!"

Rudie wrapped his leathery lips around a clutch of grass and ripped it free, chewing and turning away from his master and the unconscious fellow. The camel minded his business and relieved himself on a nearby rock, huffing and chomping any strand of green he sniffed. 

Axel vomited throughout the night. The doctor gave up his rest to make sure the man lying comatic didn't swallow his tongue. Then came the shivering and sickly shade of purple flaking his lips. Flaps of the doctor's paper fan spread droplets over his inflamed skin, another courtesy at the behest of his sore arm. Still, Axel moaned and scratched at the earth beneath him in bloody heat and delirium. 

"If you can hang on until tomorrow, son, perhaps we'll find some proper shade and build a hut. Hm? How's that sound? Shade and water. For now, just rest, and don't die on me." 

When the sun came up, the doctor cleaned Axel using the rest of the clean water from his reserve and stitched the open flesh splitting his eyebrow in two.

"That'll leave a nasty scar. Not that you need any more ruggedness in your act. You're just a lost soldier, sonny. But maybe one day you'll make a brilliant assistant. Better than Rudie, I hope. He hasn't even apologized for breaking your finger. Lookit him over there, shitting all over the camp, the scoundrel. But I'm the one with the oats; therefore, I make the rules!"

"M-muh... muuuh."

"Ah, in the worst of times, we still call our mothers."

"Mmph. Muh—"

"I wonder what's on the other side of those trees," the doctor said, shading his eyes with his hand, peering to the West. "You look well-travelled, sonny. Any ideas? Hate to run into any of those yawners, not knowing when your last shot was. But I suppose I shouldn't expect any valuable input from a man who can't look me in the eye."

After patching him up, the man hauled Axel to a stand and hoisted him onto the camel's back using a tree for leverage and a series of ropes to fasten him down. Once secured to Rudie's hump, the doctor took a few minutes to catch his breath. "Dunno how many more times I can get you up there, son. You must learn how to walk soon. Or I'll build you a sleigh. But that might take some time."

Far off above the foggy treeline, a sheet of ashy cloud broke to reveal bright blue sky. The doctor liked the look of cerulean and the absence of sand, so the begrimed trio lumbering through thick bush where dew still clung to the undersides of the leaves. The doctor went ahead, collecting globules before they evaporated. Rudie answered the doctor's constant rhetoric with wild groans that muffled Axel's whimpering, and they led their procession over uncertain ground.

"I reckon there's nothing but more trees over that ridge, Mr. Soldier. Maybe some mountains we can find a crevice to hide out in. Just until you get your strength back. The only thing I worry about is those damn yawners. Rudie and I will be safe, but you... I'll scout ahead to make sure it's clear. It'll rack up daylight, but you'll thank me when you're not a bubbling pile of soldier juice. Don't worry, sonny. They didn't immunize me for no reason! I count myself among the elites, but that doesn't mean I fancy myself better than you or more deserving of life. We're all in this, you see. Brights and Uns... We're still together, despite it all. They may have tried to kill you, but look at you now! Alive and well. Isn't that a slap in the face? They send you out to war and hope you never come back. They don't even have the decency to immunize you. What a world we live in."

Rudie let out a gaseous bellow. The doctor whipped around and pointed his walking stick at the quadruped. "Don't interrupt, you vile sow. Nobody needs a camel's opinion."

"Ma... Ma."

"We'll look for your mama after we get you looking presentable. Hang on tight, we're going uphill!"

As the ridge climbed, the trees grew denser. The doctor had to guide his camel through a maze of mossy trunks. Thin, whip-like branches prodded at Axel's tender skin. What leafy arms brushed Rudie's head bent back and snapped against the hunter's raw shoulders. Axel didn't notice, lost in the chimeric slurry of recent injuries. They maneuvered over stones and wove between crumbling stumps, avoiding the deadfalls. The steepled ground sloped upward like a great brown ramp of torn earth. Through the thickness, they muttered, minding their footwork, up and up, stopping here and there so the doctor could take in a few wheezing breaths. The camel—finally wary of obstacles—blew wind and groaned, hesitant on the incline. 

"Boy, there had better be some more forgiving land over this ledge. I don't think it's workable to keep climbing. We might have to turn back, depending on what I see at the top. Fingers crossed for a lake. A bath would do me good," said the doctor, fanning his underarms and thighs with the paper fan.

"What do you say, Mr. Soldier? Should we keep going? See if there's anything worthwhile over that lip?"

"Muh."

"That's what I thought. You may not be the finest soldier I've ever met, but you're persistent, and that's key. Come on, fellas. Let's pray for water, and up we go! Can't be worse than the blasted desert."

~*~

Ivar's mood reflected his recent successes in bed. When Trinity brought his meal, he thanked her, even asking about her morning and if she was sleeping all right and eating properly. Trinity laughed nervously, sensing a test, and answered with a practiced air of casualty. Did he know of the plan they'd executed to get Zed in to see him? Was his toothy smile a front? Despite her unease, she humoured the leader and left when he dug into his stew and fresh bread. Trinity also noted Zed's absence, and with the King in lively spirits, assumed everything had gone well with the plan.

Ivar inhaled his late breakfast and dressed for comfort to walk the courtyard. With a bounce in his step, he traversed the throat of the Chrysalis, emerging on the other side to a nest bereft of activity. The morning stalls had cleared out, their occupants and merchants returned to their hovels. Even the young ones—usually at play in the courtyard by now—were nowhere in sight.

Ivar passed by the last remaining group gathered around a low podium, whispering over their berry reductions and leafy salads. Like a cluster of threatened barnacles, each mouth clamped as Ivar strode past. He held his head forward, flexing his palette to clear his airways. None of them made a sound until he was far enough away. Their chattering was undiscernible as distant chirping birds. He stopped at the incline of a foothill, spinning to catch them staring at the back of his head. They snatched their eyes away and made like they weren't gawking.

That wasn't the only peculiar thing that happened to Ivar that morning. Since his prolonged absence, the people seemed to have grown used to keeping to themselves. There was no merriment in the air, only sterile drafts pouring in from the filtration system. Ivar shivered from the brisk air, stopping to consider paying Zed a visit at her apartment. A morbid urge pulled him along, and he continued his walk. Ivar waited until somebody approached him—whether it a man or child—to greet him with customary courtesy. Still, nobody shuffled forward to ask him about his day or to offer him a portion of their recent gardening. 

Ivar reached the frosted glass doors to the lab and stood still, thick hands hovering next to his narrow hips. Frozen in place, Ivar bit the tip of his tongue. Something told him Zed was inside the lab, and if he wished to see her, he had to set foot beyond the parameters of his expertise. The lab always put him in a bitter mood. It was the only place in the village that wasn't for him. Though he could visit any corner of Kinderfeld he wanted, he'd never felt welcome in the laboratory. The floors and surfaces' sterility made him cower from touching anything, and the lifeless stares he received from the few staff only reminded him of the responsibilities he'd shunned in favour of hedonism. None of them ever begrudged him his appetites, but he was confident they whispered of his ineptitude behind his back.

He wondered if Zed ever talked about him or if she'd ever vocalized displeasures regarding his leadership. Her request from the day before echoed in the corners of his mind, festering and swelling each hour they were apart. There was a bitter drop of ulterior motive in Zed's visit, and he let it slide down the back of his throat when she asked him to open the gate. But they'd made love, and that was more than Ivar expected. In his heart of hearts, he'd feared Zed would demand more; to let her fly the nest in search of Axel, but she'd taken his refusal graciously and kissed him all the same. Still, a nagging suspicion remained. Something was circulating in the air, whipping about the courts and apartments, squeezing under doorways and filling the citizens with doubts.

A stranger on his own land, Ivar lowered his eyes to the ground and turned away from the lab before he recognized any more scrutinizing glances. He powered along, ignoring the guards, their dutiful nods, cutting over the knolls as fast as his muscular thighs could take him without breaking into a run. The loneliness chased him back to his palace, and even its mouth gaped in question. 

Ivar noticed Sheraya nearby, spreading dark red petals, a gained cigar of smoking sage held between her fingers. He craved nicotine the moment the fumes peppered his nostrils. Tears coursed down her round cheeks, though she made no sobs, no whimpers. There was only gentle muttering under her breath and more tears. The king stood waiting for her to acknowledge him and then realized she had no intention of breaking her prayer mantra. 

Shunned, Ivar turned away, retreating to his house of lush fabric and solitude where he should never have left.

~*~

Vee insisted Zed stay put while he fetched them dinner. Their setting was the top floor of the greenhouse where he'd played cards and got drunk with his brother some nights. Nobody ever bothered them up there. Zed sat in waiting, enjoying the greenery, the twisting vines and canary yellow zucchini blooms. She stretched an arm out to pluck a flower and nibble its petals. Her stomach gurgled for heavier fare, so she ate another. Vee didn't keep her waiting long after, showing up with a basket of seed-crusted bread and a bowl of sliced potatoes slathered in basil paste and cooked to a crisp. For dessert, he brought dried fruit and freshly harvested cashews. 

Moonlight vaulted through the trees, defusing over the glass and casting milky shadows on the greenhouse floor. The air was moist with freshly irrigated soil. Baked in the dimness, Zed couldn't take her eyes off the man sitting in front of her. He'd brought with him the game from their youth, but neither of them suggested opening the box. They smiled as they ate, breathing in the deep aromas and savouring their food together. And in the balmy atmosphere decked in silver light, Zed swore Vee was his brother's twin. Her heart shuddered in remembrance. It was what brought them together; the shared sense of guilt and the strengthening suspicion they'd both lost someone, both failed and scorned by the people who'd invested too much faith in their competence. Zed felt at peace beside him.

The scientist was still a welcome member of the village, hence his aptitude for finding rarer delicacies like wine and ripe figs. They split the skins and scooped out the sweet innards, indulging their tongues on the fruit as if it was the richest of luxuries.

"You know what I would absolutely love to eat again?" Zed asked, sucking seeds from between her teeth.

"Popsicles," Vee answered.

"Close, but no. Chocolate ice cream. I'd kill for some chocolate ice cream right now. "

Vee shook his head. "No way. Strawberry all the way."

"A hot fudge sundae with peanuts and a big maraschino cherry."

"Peanut butter sauce."

"Oh, my God. Don't say that," Zed groaned.

"It's so good. I can't remember the last time I had ice cream. Remember when you could walk a couple blocks in the Summer and buy an ice cream cone?"

Zed smiled, but the thought pricked her memory. "The last time I got ice cream was with my Dad. I got the biggest chocolate sundae, with peanut butter cups and chocolate sprinkles. He told me there was a full day-and-a-half's worth of calories in it, but I didn't care. It was after a soccer game. I didn't like soccer, but if I went to practice every week and scored at least one goal, he'd take me out for ice cream. Two goals meant I got ice cream and five dollars."

Zed sighed, continuing, "I hate thinking about the last times. Like at one point, you did something for the very last time. The last trip for ice cream. The last time you told someone you loved them."

"If you hate thinking about last times, then why are you doing it right now?" Vee asked, eyes blank as discs.

She grimaced, reaching out to touch the toe of her shoe to his, then softening her face. "I can't help it sometimes. Don't tell me you've never thought about how it used to be. You don't have to look at everything so logically."

"I don't," Vee said. "I just rather not think about those times."

"I'm sorry. Is it?—Never mind."

"My fiancé and my kid? Yes. It's always them."

Zed set her dish aside and scooted beside Vee, pressing her back against the wooden barrier of the melon patch, mirroring his position, her mouth just as dead grim as his.

"You seem to handle it well enough. But I understand. I think everyone lost something important to them," Zed offered. 

Vee sighed, turning his face to the floor, cutting off the glistening whites of his eyes from view. "Found out she was pregnant the night before I left to work for the army."

"The army?"

"Yes. I had a knack for inventing. You've seen the ammunition I designed for Axel. And it takes a special gun to fire something that lethal without complication. They wanted that kind of technology and offered me a nauseating amount of money to oversee mass production. The only smart thing I ever did was refuse to sell myself. It cost me my family, but I can say with certainty Axel is the only person besides me who's fired one of them. Could you imagine what the world would be like if those had gotten into the wrong hands?"

Zed bottled talk of acid and bloodshed with a shiver and a firm hand on Vee's wrist. "Enough of that. Please. Tell me about her—your fiancé. Let's just... Remember them fondly. I don't want to think about the bullshit out there."

"You'd rather stay inside these bubbles, ignoring a second societal collapse in the making?"

"Yes. I'd rather enjoy my time here with you, listening to nicer stories. This is all that's left. I don't want to think about where we went wrong or right. Let's just talk about what made us happy."

Vee nudged her shoulder. "Why can't we talk about what makes us happy now?"

She giggled and rested her temple on his shoulder. Vee curled his wrist around her knee, and their fingers intertwined. He leaned his head on hers like they had in his apartment before Lora caught them, this time with his heart pumping in double-time. 

"What makes you happy now?" Zed asked him.

"Not talking about dead relatives."

"Okay, true. Let's not. So... What are you content with?"

"You," Vee blurted.

Zed's chest tightened. Vee let go of her hand and angled his torso toward her. "I'm sorry. It's difficult for me not to... Stick to you. If I'm honest... You look like her, Lea. I really hate how much you remind me of her. And I don't want to use you to fill the void. It's wrong, but I can't help it. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how much I lost. And you're so understanding. You don't have all these expectations."

"Vee—"

"I don't want you to think I'm coming onto you. You don't owe me anything. All I'm saying is, I'd be happy to stick together."

"We will! I want to stick with you, too."

Vee combed his blond hair back, pinching his brows together. "Lea... I want you to tell me no, right now."

"No? What do you mean?" Zed asked.

"Tell me there's no chance in Hell we'll ever get together. If I have it planted in my mind, then that's that. But if you don't, and we continue hanging out like this, getting closer... I might... Think there's a way."

"Valter..."

"Axe knew what he was doing when he brought you here...when he introduced us. Yes, he wanted protection for you, but he also wanted you and me to hit it off. I could tell. He'd never admit it, but I know him. You're perfect for me, but I've seen how others treat you, and I refuse to do the same. I don't want to perform tricks to impress you into sleeping with me like Ivar, but I don't want to stifle my feelings like... Axel. So you need to shut me down, right now. If there's a firm barrier, my mind will reroute, avoiding any possibility—"

"Stop," Zed said. "Please, just stop."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of that up."

"No, it's good to speak your mind. I appreciate the honesty, even if it took months to hear."

"It would have been inappropriate if I brought it up. When we had research and pressing issues, it was easy to ignore how familiar you seemed. Now I'm at a stalemate, and you're still here, and Axel's gone. I can't pretend like I don't want to spend my time with you. But I'll stay off your heels, I swear. Just friends."

"I'm not telling you no," Zed murmured. "Maybe at some point, I wanted to fall in love, but now I know that's foolish. Love can't exist in this world anymore. Not without great suffering, and I don't want to suffer anymore. Truthfully, I don't even want to get close to you, Valter, because I'm afraid someone or something will take it away."

"Nothing will take me away."

Zed shook her head, knocking a tear loose. "Don't say that. You can't make that promise. I don't want any more broken promises."

The scientist nodded while a cloud of vapour seethed from the sprinkler heads above the raised garden beds, thickening the air and clinging to their skin. A long silence pervaded, and Zed held her breath until Vee shuffled away to retrieve Wayfare of Austea. He dropped the box before her feet and grinned widely.

"Come on then, let's play. No more doom and gloom for a while."

~*~

Ivar spent the same evening pacing in his room. He went to the private alcove he assigned to the woman on his mind. Zed was fickle, and he didn't want to dash his chances with her by smothering, but something in his stomach wouldn't settle. He'd even dismissed his guard, encouraging another visit, yet she hadn't shown. Ivar buckled under the suspicion that she was angry with him, and her absence was his punishment.

Never the man to deny himself, he made for the Hives. If Zed was alone, surely she'd welcome his company. She'd said it herself: she wasn't one to sleep with just anyone, and he was far from just anyone. He was King, and this was his realm.

Despite his self-reassurance, Ivar carried doubts that manifested on his face. He passed a few citizens, drawing eyes with his acidic mug and ignored them all the way to Zed's door. 

She didn't answer the door after he knocked. He reasoned she might be asleep, though it was shy of nine o'clock—early for most but not an unusual time to sleep. Before he turned away, he twisted the handle and cracked the door open an inch, letting out the dark.

"Lea? Are you in here?"

Stagnant silence answered, and he shut the door before anyone saw him. Ivar went to the door on the left and found that one locked. He grimaced, turned from the apartments and left for the lab. 

On his way through the courtyard, Ivar saw Nalani and Trinity walking arm-in-arm, engaged in private discussion. Their frantic doe-eyes widened to see him.

"Have you seen Lea?" Ivar asked.

"She should be home, I think," said Trinity.

Nalani shrugged her bare shoulders, still clutching her friend's hand. "I thought she'd be with you, Ivar."

He sneered at the women. "No curtsy? No formality? Has everyone forgotten who's in charge around here?"

The two pressed their arms together, quietly apologizing and stepping aside for Ivar. He stalked toward the lab, holding his breath while throwing open the doors and turning the corner to find the rooms gutted of materials. The refrigerator hummed, and the overhead light flickered, barren and reeking of sterilization.

Ivar examined the dustless surfaces, curious but not enough to go digging through desk drawers. He went down the hall and stopped in front of Vee's door, clearing his airways again to sharpen his ears. There were no voices. Ivar knocked and went unanswered.

He turned in time to see the first door in the hall open and Lora's head poking out. She wore the same displeasure on her face, adjusting her reading glasses while her body caught up with her neck.

"If you're looking for Vee, he's hiding away with that woman everyone is up in arms about," Lora said.

"Hiding away? With Lea?"

"Yeah, whatever her name is. They haven't been here since I caught them getting up close and personal in Vee's room."

Ivar's stomach flipped, his head buzzed. Lora took great pleasure in the snagging of his mouth. She had been fuming by herself, finding specks of dust to brush away to keep her mind off her superior who'd run away with the girl she'd grown to distrust. Lora was a woman of insecurity, easily threatened by others but quick to bite back when given a chance. After she'd found Vee shoulder-to-shoulder with Zed in his apartment, Lora waited for any opportunity to drive a wedge between her beloved head scientist and the newcomer from the desert. Now was the perfect opportunity to damage Zed. 

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked.

"You know what I mean, sir. They were practically on top of each other."

Ivar had no reason to discount Lora's claim. She'd proven herself a trusted and valuable member of the village long ago and never caused a ripple of dispute. The folding of her face and iron-clad seriousness was all the King needed to believe what she told him.

"Where are they?"

"I assume—if they're smart—hiding in one of the greenhouses. I wouldn't be surprised if you caught them naked in the strawberry bushes."

Ivar scoffed and rushed away. Lora watched until he disappeared, then went back inside the incubation room and put on a pair of gloves. There was an electric cooler housing blood samples, one from each member of the village. Lora selected a sample from the bottom tray and shuffled to the sink, turning on the tap while reading the label. Popping the top off the vial, she upended the sample and drained the blood away.

Ivar did better than storming the greenhouses in search of Zed. There were slinkier things on his mind. If he caught her in the act with the scientist, only then would he justify blowing up. For now, he snuck through the grounds with his focus tuned and his breath steady. 

 "What's next for me? I've tried to convince him to let someone go, but he refuses. Do we just exist here now, with no way to move forward? Forever trapped in this moon unit."

"He'll come to his senses," Vee said with meagre hopefulness. "Ivar's full of himself, but he's not stupid."

"Well, let's count on those senses coming soon," Zed snorted.

"Speaking of Ivar... Do you think he's wondering where you are? You did just... You know. If that happened to me, I'd be thinking about it for a while. Wondering after you. Well, not you—'cause we never... Heh. Ah, shit. You get my meaning, right?"

"Mr. Cluney, are you flustered? I don't think I've ever heard you fumble your words before."

"I don't mean to be coarse."

"Don't worry. We'll get through this. Ivar has to see reason… We need to tell him about the ones who died."

"I'll tell him. It should be me," Vee said, stacking the playing cards back in the plastic tray lining of the frayed box. 

Zed helped by gathering pieces, separating them into their individual quadrants next to the cards. She set her eyes dead on the floor after they finished packing the game away, sighing in contemplation.

"Who will go?"

Vee frowned. They shared a strained minute of silence interrupted by another burst of spray in the air. Their shirts stuck to their backs, legs aching from crossing and uncrossing. Zed handed the box to Vee.

"Maybe it should be me," she said.

"Absolutely not. You can't leave. It's too dangerous out there, and you don't have to put your life on the line. There's only two people who should go. Me or Ivar."

"You're too important to lose, Vee. That's what Axel wants. I know if he had a dying wish for me, it would be to look out for you. For us to do everything we can to survive."

"Within capability. I'm not a killer, Zed. I'm not like Axel."

Zed smirked, the merciless flames dancing in her belly again, the same ones she'd felt when she screamed at Lora. She'd harboured the noxious warmth before. It was a friend to her.

"But I am...I'm a killer."

Vee set his jaw firmly, scoffing, unable to disagree. "Listen, Rambo. Even armed to the teeth, you're still not going out there alone."

"And neither are you if you go."

"You think Ivar will leave his precious cocoon? I don't think so. He'll probably send one of his guys out to never come back."

Zed shook her head, tired of the speculation. "This is ridiculous. Anyone should be able to come and go as they please. It's tyranny to tell them they can't leave if they want to. I thought this was a place of free will? What happened to the promised land?"

"Same thing that always happens when one person is left in charge."

"On that, we agree."

They left the greenhouse with much to think about, hugged goodbye in the courtyard and separated—Zed toward the Hives and Vee following the path to his room. 

 The next morning Zed awoke to guards butting on all the doors, yelling for everyone to get to the courtyard. The racket came after a long night of tossing and turning. Her eyes were tight with unrest, her head throbbing, but she put on jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a single breast pocket, similar to the ones Ivar wore.

The citizens filed from the Hives, murmuring and looking around worriedly. Guards stood by to direct the traffic to the medical tent-turned-backdrop. The booth topped the steepest hill in the plaza, out of use for the past few weeks. They pooled around the base of the hill in collective confusion, looking up as Ivar took advantage of the blank vinyl behind him.

Ivar cast a proud smile over the congregation. He summoned everyone from their hiding spots without having to lift a finger and brought them into the light spilling through the checkered dome on high. He waited until he spotted Zed and Vee coming in from their separate tubes, relaxing a bare inch when they didn't arrive together. They cut their ways to the front of the throng and noticed each other right away. Ivar saw the troubled looks they exchanged and sneered.

"Is this everyone?" Ivar called to the head of his guard.

An armed man standing off to the East with a few others gave Ivar a thumbs up. The King nodded, then proceeded, his expression toward his people fresh with tenacity.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Kinderfeld. I've asked you all here to bring you some news. It has taken me a long time to come to this decision, and for my delay, I apologize. I don't take this lightly... We've lost members of our family, and my heart is broken. I've spent too long trying to think of a way to bring trade back to our village. We need supplies, yes, and medics. I understand these things because I've survived before. All of us must exist as a unit, each one pledged to the survival of our crew."

The people looked on with widening eyes. Hearts that once sang for Ivar's monologues found their tune. All of them but Azalea and the other Cluney brother. Ivar burned them with ocular venom, hoisting his smile into a morbid curve. Zed let shoulders and legs swallow her back into the crowd, but not deep enough to block her view of the head scientist glaring back at the leader.

"I forbid travel for your protection. There are dangers outside of our walls. People whose only purpose is to hunt and kill. I don't have to remind you of the horrors we've suffered or the love we've cultivated here in our home. You were all there. Some of you longer than others. They built these walls to protect us—the ones who choose love instead of hate."

Ivar clasped his hands behind his back and took splinted steps back and forth on his makeshift stage. He fashioned himself contemplative, but his eyes shone with intent.

"With that being said... We cannot wait for luck to come to us. This planet is evolving each day. Nature is reclaiming the land, and it will swallow us in its majesty. We will be lost if we don't take action."

"What do we do?" Someone called from the center of the gathering. The fiery-haired father who'd earned his keep cooking and training his son stood out as the shouter. Ivar didn't smile at him so much as he cast his grace upon the redheaded man clutching the freckled boy by the shoulders.

"I'm glad you asked, sir... We are a unity. A tribe of people who want to live in harmony, am I wrong?"

Several shook their heads, others muttered together, a dull drone of tired voices.

"Then we should vote. Does anyone care to nominate themselves or another?"

The apprehension pivoted and picked up with a few gasps. Heads swivelled in search of somebody bold enough to champion themselves for exploration. Vee continued glaring at Ivar. The king returned the glower.

"I'll go!" 

Zed gasped after the words left Vee's mouth. He stepped forth, unbreaking under Ivar's challenging eyes.

"So we have one volunteer. Our beloved head of research and weapons development. A very noble gesture! Does anyone else wish to nominate themselves?" Ivar asked. He opened his arms, beseeching a reply with postured hope.

"Nobody should go alone!" Zed shouted.

"Yeah, we need a team!"

Ivar motioned for the crowd to quiet down. Once they simmered, looking on with palpable anticipation, he inhaled deeply for the next addressing.

"We're running low on men to keep our hold. The brunt of the firepower needs to remain here in case of attack," Ivar reasoned.

"I'll go alone. I don't care. We can't stand around any longer!" Vee said, his chest puffed, much to the surprise of the people who knew him.

Ivar barked a few dry laughs, disguising his pleasure to everyone but Zed and the man who'd volunteered to brave the elements. "I suppose if nobody has any objections...Vee will be the one to go. As badly as it tears me to say so... You are the perfect man for the job. Brother, I wish you all the luck."

Zed broke away from the gather and hammered her legs up the incline toward Vee and Ivar, pumping her fists until she reached them.

"Ivar, you can't do this! We can't send people out alone. At least let me go with him!"

"No!" Ivar and Vee shouted at once.

"What are you going to do to stop me? After your decree about peace and harmony, what will you do to keep me from leaving Kinderfeld?"

Ivar adopted her heated expression. "Azalea, stay out of this."

"No. I won't! Not after what happened to Axel. We have to assemble a team! Don't tell me to stay out when neither of you has seen the carnage!"

"Of course you want to go, Lea. All you care about is finding Axel. You used me and hoped I wouldn't figure out you're trying to leave. You never cared about me. You try to act like you're so innocent and respectful, but you're just like everyone else."

"Because I don't want people to die? Ivar, I understand you're trying to protect everyone, but sending men out for slaughter won't help our cause. Please," Zed whimpered. "Set aside our personal issues and try to see the bigger picture."

Ivar cooled suddenly. He patronized Zed with a frantic nod and a forced grin. "All right, Azalea. Consider our personal issues permanently set aside. You got your way. One of the guards will go with Vee. Now, go. I have heard your voice."

The guards gathered around Ivar and Vee, their conversation clipped and sheltered from the citizens by a lineup of broad-shouldered men carrying weapons of varying levels of brutality. Zed stepped away, cowering under the firm looks she received from Ivar's men. Though she bowed out of the political bubble, she stayed close by, watching Vee's sour face muttering umbrage at the King. The other citizens broke off into smaller clusters, chosen families and cliques gathering to discuss the ruling. 

A hand slid over Zed's shoulder, and she whirled to find Sheraya bowing her head. "You've done what you can."

"No, I haven't!" Zed nipped. "I should go with him. I'm not afraid of the outside anymore."

"You don't have to be the hero, Azalea. You must survive."

"I have survived. I'm good at it."

"You're needed here. The young ones have to learn from the women."

"Sheraya... I can't let Vee go. I can't."

The elder took hold of Zed's clammy palm, pressing the lines with her thumb. Zed buckled as tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. "He's all I have, Sheraya."

"The only one you ever truly have is yourself. Think about that before you take your heart's path and not your brain's. Look hard into the future."

"I'm trying," Zed sobbed.

"Azalea, I mean it. Your future is important."

Sheraya left her with a warm peck on the cheek and a growing sense of bewilderment. Zed looked around at the people, the hills and the courtyard beyond, the flatland where they set up their booths and entertained each other. Envisioning life beyond the safety of their walls overcame Zed with grief. She'd won, but the conditions were too heavy for her to bear. Now her last friend prepared for expulsion. 

Vee took his charge seriously. Zed saw his raw determination as they hashed out a plan. Several times, she stopped herself from storming their parley, anchoring herself to the ground with locked knees and her arms folded over her breasts.

For a long time, the conversation went on, and most of the villagers went about their morning routines, gathering to cook and gossip of the turbulent state of politics. Zed stayed close enough to catch Vee when they finally broke for action, but the men showed no signs of agreement. Ivar had to hush some more uproarious guards, leashing them down with an assuring hand on the shoulder to stop them from infecting the others with their rancour.

Zed spotted a guard sprinting from the warehouse limits. The desperate look on his face alerted her, and she stepped out of sight around the corner of the medical tent, still close enough to listen.

The man approached, panting and calling for Ivar's attention. Zed snuck a peek and saw the group retire from their conference, distracted by their comrade.

"Jackson, what's the matter?"

"It's Zee. It's him! One of the guys found some doctor dragging him through the forest."

"A doctor?" Ivar repeated. "How do you know?"

"He says so. Says his name is Simpson... Or was it Samson?"

"Samson!" Zed yelled, running from her cover toward the reporting guard. "Did you say the doctor's name is Samson?"

"Yeah, Samson," the man huffed, stunned by the woman's sudden appearance.

"Bring him in! Right now. Go get them and bring him to me!" Zed demanded.

"Now, wait a minute," Ivar said. "How do we know we can trust this guy?"

"If it's the Samson I know, we can trust him. Ivar, please. I'll vouch for him if it's who I think it is."

"Who gives a shit, he's got my brother!"

Zed vaulted after Vee, tailed by the guards and Ivar. The march heralded interest from the citizens, and soon, onlookers roved toward the warehouse. Vee turned to the guard who'd brought the news and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go tell them to let Axel and the doctor inside."

"Sir," the guard nodded, jogging ahead to the entrance where two other men stood, baffled and conflicted without orders.

"Let them in!" Zed cried out.

They waited with bursting lungs. It seemed an hour crawled by before a shadowed heap of arms appeared at the mouth of the entrance. Flanked by two guards holding him upright, they carried Axel inside, his head of matted brown hair dangling lifelessly between his shoulders, limp tattooed arms slung around their necks. Zed ran to him and propped his chin up in her hand, heart palpitating, head rushing.

"Axel! Oh my God. You're alive!"

"Now, now, miss. Don't waste too much breath speaking to him. He can't understand you."

Zed turned toward the familiar voice. Samson hobbled in next to a guard who'd taken on his load—a heavy satchel, a duffel bag and two tweed suitcases. Filth and the briny stink of body odour and piss wafted through the tunnel with them. Most recoiled from the stench.

"Doctor Samson, do you remember me? From the bloodbank."

"Ah, yes, of course, I remember you, Zed! You used to zip around on your motorbike, looking for scrap metal and something to eat."

"Yes, yes! I didn't think I'd see you again."

"The chances of us meeting were rather slim, I agree, and I have to say it's lovely to find you in this magnificent bubble here. You can see this splendid little valley from the North. We were hoping for water, but this is much better. Um, speaking of water, where might I find some? Mr. Soldier and I are rather parched. Oh, and I left my camel parked outside. Do you validate?" Samson said with a jolt of wild laughter.

Zed didn't mean to be rude, but turning away from Samson was far too easy when Axel hung before her like a damp towel on a clothesline. She wanted to hold him, to join in as support to get him a surface to lie upon, but she resisted. 

Ivar butt in and directed the escort to take Axel to the laboratory, then turned to Zed, scorning the tears in her eyes.

"Looks like you got your wish, Lea. Axel's back. Your life can go back to normal," Ivar said as the rest of them rushed away with the hunter and the doctor in tow.

It was only them, facing off on the hill. Zed quelled the wildfire in her belly with a painful swallow. A debate with Ivar served no purpose, so she turned from him, solemn and absolute.

"You've given me a lot, Ivar. I thank you for that. Hopefully soon, you and I will see eye to eye again, and we can live peacefully, as you said."

She angled down the hill, hurrying toward the laboratory. 

Nobody stopped her from entering the stand-in hospital room. Vee had been worrying over his brother, grimacing at his crudely wrapped hand, violet dark and lame at his side. They'd already stripped him naked and laid a blanket over his lower extremities, so the bruises spraying his ribs screamed in the whiteness. His skin was bright red and glossy, shoulders scabbed with burns. With all his muscles slackened, Axel spilled over the bed, deadweight and loose-jawed.

"What happened?" Zed asked, turning to the doctor propped up in a gurney, sipping from a jug of water.

"I can't say for sure," said Samson. "He was comatose when I found him baking in the desert. That's one lucky man, right there. Lucky he crawled his sorry ass to where he did. Otherwise, I might have missed him by a mile."

"What should we do, Samson? How do I make him come out of it?" 

"Oh, we can never be sure. It could be a few days, weeks... Months. My suggestion is to regulate his body temperature, treat his wounds and burns, and hope for the best."

Zed turned back to the unconscious man. She spotted the clumps of dirt in his hair, the scrapes on his elbows and mud-caked fingernails and her panic increased.

"Somebody bring me washcloths, soap and water right now!"

"I'd be mighty careful cleaning those burns, Zed. He's got some good blisters forming. And mind his hand."

"I will, I will," Zed nodded. "Just tell me what to do."

"Can I bother someone for a snack?" Asked Samson.

The guards who'd toted them into the lab stuck around until no longer needed. Zed refused help from anyone except Vee after Trinity brought them a bucket of warmed water, and Lora provided antiseptic. They started cleaning Axel gently, beginning with the grime under his nails. Samson ate from a bowl of mixed fruits, humming in delight from the nectar sliding down his throat. 

Zed moved Axel's injured arm with great care and washed away the smears of dirt marring his tattoos, applying disinfectant to the cuts. Vee worked on the opposite side of the bed, combing out the chunks in his hair. Once in awhile, Zed met Vee's eyes, and he'd nod or give her a forced grin.

Axel's unconsciousness only registered later in the night after they'd cleaned him and swapped a few words of astonishment. Zed stayed nearby, wishing his eyes open, but every hopeful breath gave way to disappointment. Lost in the blankness of his mind, Axel floated.

Even Lora surrendered to the sobering tension, making herself available to Vee only. Zed didn't concern herself with the woman. Her mind was awash with relief and worry for the friend who'd found his miraculous way back home. Nothing else mattered but the battered man lying in slumber on the hospital bed.

Samson fell asleep, and Vee left after long, touching Zed's shoulder before excusing himself. He promised to come back as soon as he'd had some rest. Zed nodded, squeezing his hand for a lingering moment, then releasing him. Sleep had no chance of overtaking her, so she stayed next to Axel, balling herself up in one of the office chairs, listening to his wheezing and sticking her fingers under his scruffy jaw to check his pulse every time he went silent.

When it was only her, Axel, and Samson sleeping in the room, she leaned over the bed and brushed her palm over Axel's scaly forehead. She avoided his singed nose, the curving laceration above his left eye and the peeling skin on the crests of his cheeks, touching his jaw and stroking his hair a few times.

"Don't worry, everything's okay now. You're back where you're safe."

The woman slumped into the chair, propping her heavy head on her elbow. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, plates of seared skin stretching tight over his ribcage, and fought off the urge to doze alongside him.

"Mmph-uh... Muh."

Zed's eyes snapped open. "Axel? Did you speak?"

"Hmm," he thrummed.

"Can you hear me, Axel? It's me, Zed. Azalea. Do you recognize my voice?"

Axel's throat went quiet, the enfeebled notes fading back to obscurity. Zed tried to get him mumbling again, but the hunter remained still.

"It's okay. I promise, I'll make you better. You're home now, and I'm not going anywhere until you’re better, okay, Axel? Don’t worry. You’re at home with me."

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[nazumichi]

Catrouble, #39 -Dee :)

A supply closet.

Dark and musty, damp and quiet. Not at all Trouble’s style, the closed and cramped space and freezing interior. But it was the best place; secluded and without a security camera, as cadets never usually passed through this certain hallway.

Perfect little pocket of quiet.

They could use some quiet right about now.

The shapeshifter hugged themself tightly, taking a deep breath. The few seconds before the tears were the worst. Sitting in the cold, willing the tears to come, or hoping above hope that the empty feeling in their stomach, the tight knot in their chest, would subside.

It never did, always leaving them disappointed, but not surprised.

It had become a sort of ritual.

Sit in the closet.

Weep and choke on tears, feeling sickened by their own foolishness.

Walk out, the rest of the world none the wiser.

Brilliant.

They hated crying, hated the feeling of being like this. Being confused. Confused over every look, every word, every touch.

Trouble swallowed, feeling bile rise in their throat. Not now, not now, not now. Before they knew it, their eyes were burning, painful beyond comparison.

Dammnit.

They wiped away the growing tears furiously, breath coming up short and fast, throat constricting, choking them. No, no, no. Their fault. 

“Fuck.”

Their vision whirled, light spots dancing before their eyes, shining even brighter past the tears. The room was spinning, whirling in dizzy circles. Their stomach flipped, as they thrashed, trying to stop the sobbing. 

“Fuck!”

They slammed their head against the wall, in a state of desperation. No, no, no. No—

“Trouble?” 

The shapeshifter choked, looking up quickly. A voice. They’d heard a voice, somewhere, echoing through the supposedly empty hall.

“Double Trouble,” the voice huffed, and Trouble felt sick to their stomach.

Catra.

Catra, Catra, Catra.

Possibly the biggest contributing factor to their entropy. They had to work her out, to find out what made her tick. But they couldn’t, and it was killing them. She was a mystery of a person, fuelled by spite and the desperate need for vengeance.

Apparently. Maybe. Fuck, they didn’t even know that.

“Are you down here?” Her tone was clearly impatient, and they could almost see the adorable little frown on her face. 

Go away. Go away now. 

Trouble stayed as silent as possible, gaze still blurred, setting a subconscious strike of fear through them. She couldn’t know. It couldn’t happen. 

They jumped, hearing a knock at the door of their hiding space. Trouble felt themself beginning to shake. No, no, no. The musty air of the room was smothering, pushing the air out of their lungs, heavy and cold.

And then they choked. And just like that, the door swung open. The shapeshifter hid their head in their hands, hiding behind their arms and knees, refusing to make eye-contact with the girl in the doorway. 

“Leave me be,” they said, making a desperate attempt to keep their tone even, confident. 

“Why?” There was a pause, before Catra continued, incredulous. “Are you crying?”

“Get out.” Trouble kept their head down, listening for the grunt of indifference, the little click of the door shutting, the quiet footfalls, fading into the distance. It never came. All their expectations were pushed aside by a surprisingly soft voice.

“It’s okay to cry.”

How? Crying was rewarded with nothing but pain and mockery. She should really know what. “I don’t—“ they hiccuped, face burning, “recall asking you for any input.”

“Didn’t have too,” Catra responded. 

They risked a glance at her face. Her features were darkened, mask gleaming in the dim light. Her eyes were blank, slit-pupils giving nothing away. Unfair and uncalled for. They liked to read her. 

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what’s wrong with you.”

Trouble mustered a chuckle, attempting to keep the jitter out of their voice. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Silence.

Before they knew what was happening, the girl suddenly sunk to the floor beside them. Trouble made a move to scoot away, but not before she coiled her tail around their wrist, holding them in place.

What was she playing at?

Catra was leaning against the wall, dark mass of hair clouding around her head, like the softest of thorn-bushes. They imagined her hair was soft, and perhaps their imagination was more than enough.

They turned their head away, not wanting to give her a reason to stay. They couldn’t have her following them around, asking questions that they didn’t even have answers for. They really couldn’t deal with questions.

So naturally, she asked one.

“Anything I can do to help?” She looked embarrassed, eyes turned down.

Trouble shook their head, eyelids heavy. They needed to sleep. They needed to get out of here, someplace else. They couldn’t be alone with Catra.

They jolted, feeling a sudden brush against their hand. The brunette was gripping it tightly, still avoiding eye-contact. Her hand was warm, and surprisingly soft for one with claws.

“Can I stay with you?”

Trouble blinked, shooting her a sceptical look. She wanted to stay with them? She could be doing literally anything else. Anything. 

But they nodded, letting her lean against their arm. She purred quietly, a low hum over the relative silence.

They’d been right; her hair was soft.

#ask #raiis anons #request #raii writes a lot #prompts #catrouble #double trouble #dt #catra #yes I’m bad at writing panic attacks

[maple-writes]

[Image ID: Banner image reading: The City of Eventide, Chapter 33, Maple-writes. End ID

Wild that we're finally here at the second-last chapter already

###

Next week Ginger came by and brought me to the doctor she’d been discussing my case with. Her office seemed comfortable enough, the waiting room decorated with big leafy plants and the radio playing low from some unseen speaker. She spoke kindly, gently, patiently waiting whenever I stumbled over my answers and had trouble figuring out how to explain in any kind of way that made sense. After what felt like far longer than a regular appointment should have been, she handed me a page of lab work and tests she wanted done and sent me on my way.

The rest of the week went fast, Ginger helping me wherever she could with the doctor’s orders. As much as I was certain she’d explained them all to me back in her clinic most of it went over my head, but according to Striker they made sense. It was exhausting, though, having to spend so much time out of the house. Even if Ginger was right there, even if I knew she’d be able to help if something went wrong, I could still feel the tension building around my lungs with the first breath of fresh air. As soon as I’d get home I hardly had the energy to do anything more than crawl into bed and fall asleep.

The therapist Ginger put me in contact with seemed nice when we spoke over the phone. I’d tuck myself away in my bedroom when she called, pacing back and forth across the floor. Sometimes Ginger would drive me to her office to see her in person. She turned out to be a selkie, one of Millie’s distant cousins. Smooth stones and intricate shells decorated her office shelves and a tray of soft sea-floor sand always sat on a little table nearby. Cool against my skin I couldn’t help but run my hands through the dry sand as we spoke, slipping grains filed down by decades of ocean current through my fingers until it was time to go home.

Tests finally done I went back and the doctor welcomed me back to walk through the results. Aside from nutrient deficiencies nothing seemed medically wrong, nothing alarming at least. According to her it gave weight to Ginger’s theory that part of what I ate ceased to exist before I could get anything out of it. She suggested vitamins and some calorie-dense supplements to see if that helped and sent me off to check back in a couple months or so.

Then it was back home, pacing around every room of the house while Striker was gone. At least this time Ember was there too. Sometimes anyway. Sometimes she was busy talking with Ginger, listening as she extended the same offer she’d given me to help if she ever feared she’d do something she’d regret. Whatever they were doing it seemed to be working out. Standing next to her no longer felt like too much, like standing inches from wildfire. Now instead the warmth and energy that escaped her skin reminded me of warm candles, comforting and contained. Maybe it was what she and Ginger were doing, or maybe it was me. Maybe it was something we’d done, something she’d taught me to manage.

Every night she’d try again to get me out of the house, convincing me to give it another go, but every night I didn’t make it much farther than the end of the block. Once out of frustration she snapped at me when we got home and we fought, snarling and spitting until—

“Hey!” Striker’s yell from the top of the stairs startled me into whirling. He stood shaky on the landing, a white-knuckle grip on the top of the handrail. “Get out of here if you’re going to fucking kill each other! Tear each other apart throw each other into the ocean I don’t care, I don’t fucking care!

I flinched as Striker disappeared from the hall and slammed his bedroom door sending a shudder through the house. Time froze for heartbeat after heartbeat until Ember silently slipped away to clear her head. I took to the couch to calm down, shoulders hunched and guilt sitting heavy in my gut before slipping up the stairs to Striker’s room to apologize. The door was shut, and locked when I tested the handle. I knocked, guilt already replacing the anger that’d been burning through my lungs just moments earlier.

“Go away!” Striker shouted through the door, then after a moment added quieter, “leave me alone, okay?”

My shoulders slouched and I couldn’t think of anything to say, turning away and retreating to my own bedroom. Quiet echoed in my ears broken by the wind through the trees or the occasional car passing outside, soft through my window opened just a crack. Even after the guilt and the weight on my ribs faded to blanket tiredness, I stayed up, eyes heavier with every minute, sitting on the edge of my bed until I heard Ember come home just to know that she did.

#

The next morning Striker seemed better, greeting me with a smile, even if a cautious one that avoided my face, as he drank his coffee in the kitchen. I sat on one of the stools, wringing my hands together under the counter. Nothing too bad had happened last night, I’d stopped when he said so, no one got hurt, but…

“Striker,” I took a deep breath, “sorry about last night. I, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t react right away, leaning back against the far counter and taking a long drink. “I know.” He sighed into his mug, watching me over the rim. “You were fighting over going to the park, right?”

I nodded, guilt sitting heavy on my shoulders. When he put it like that it sounded like nothing. Sounded like we’d gone and scared him for nothing.

Striker shrugged. “Why don’t I just drive you both? Avoid whatever it is that’s freaking you out on the way there.”

Why hadn’t I thought of that? I lifted my head and stared at him across the kitchen. “That… That would be nice.”

“Why don’t we go tonight then?” Striker said. “If Ember’s up for it too. I’ll ask her later today.”

I smiled, shoulders sloping as I leaned on the countertop. “Thanks, Striker.” Excitement bubbled up deep in my gut. Striker would be there, we’d get there safe and sound and private. Ember would probably be thrilled.

Just before midnight, Striker corralled me and Ember into his car and pulled away from home. On my own in the back I sank into the seat, staring out the window at the streetlights, the stoplights and odd lit window passing by. Striker kept the radio low and soft in the dark. He and Ember mumbled with each other up front, but I didn’t pay close enough attention to figure out what they might have been talking about. Whatever it was it couldn’t have been heavy with Striker laughing low and rumbling at something Ember said.

Lights grew further and further apart as we left the main roads of the city behind for the lead-in to the park. Pines towered dark and steadfast, blocking out the last of the glow against the grey night clouds. Striker slowed the car at the closed gate, pulling over to the shoulder to park. Engine cut and headlights out we sat in the dark, in the quiet.

Striker leaned back, stretching his shoulders. “I’ll wait here, just come find me when you’re done.”

“Why don’t you come too?” Ember asked, quiet and hoping. “We can show you the way up.”

“Really?” He glanced between her and me. “You sure?”

The two of us nodded together. How many times had he asked me to take him up here, to see Ember when I’d go out at night? He didn’t have to think long before pushing his door open into the dark. We piled out, car doors shutting and echoing against the gently swaying trees. A near-ocean breeze shook needles and immature cones from their branches, sending them sprinkling down over our shoulders.

I took a deep breath of cool air, fresh and quiet. My shoulders eased and heartbeat after heartbeat the knot in my stomach faded away. The dark blocked my sight, pressing against every side like a thick blanket. Scattered foliage and dropped twigs sunk under my feet as I followed Ember and Striker up the trail. We kept him between us just in case he miss-stepped or took a wrong turn, steering him on the right path once we left the trail behind for undergrowth. Dewy ferns brushed at my pants and little night creatures scurried away through the bushes as we picked our way over roots and rocks. More than once Striker stumbled, swearing under his breath even as we caught him mid fall.

Trees thinned and the lake emerged, dark and inky in the dim light. Surrounding the pebbled shore stood pointed, needle-less trees. I’d done that. I’d stripped them bare and left them to die like that. Ember and Striker kept going to the lake shore, but I stood, hesitating on the tree line. I’d all but destroyed this place.

“Hey,” Ember called, her figure nothing more than a horned shadow. “Are you coming?”

Right. Thinking about it wouldn’t change what happened, but when I stepped out into the clearing I stepped out onto fresh grass. Shrubs and sprouting wildflowers grew out between dead tree trunks, fresh saplings stretching up towards the darkened sky. Bats flew haphazard paths overhead in pursuit of unseen insects. Across the clearing the white tail of a fleeing deer flashed before it vanished into the dark. I slowed, reaching down to trail my hand over the delicate leaves of a tall plant with little light flowers. This place… So much growing back, living, blooming. My throat tightened. It hadn’t even been a year.

Ember and Striker found the rock by the lakeside, scootching over to make room for me at Striker’s other shoulder. Its surface, smoothed by decades of wind and rain, pressed cool against my hands and even through my clothes. The breeze too, dipping down under the trees and driving tiny waves to lap against the shore, blew chilled against my face, crisp and clean. Just like I remembered.

Something rattled in Ember’s backpack as she rummaged through its contents. The side of an old, worn down container glinted just a little in the low light as she pulled it out with a pair of mugs.

She leaned across Striker’s lap, handing one of them to me before smiling at him. “You can use the cap, it’s like a little cup.”

Ember reached over again, pouring hot chocolate out for all of us. It warmed my hands, softly steaming in the dark. Striker’s shoulder, brushing against mine, was warm too. Warm and familiar and safe.

“So this is where you’d run off to?” Striker said, low and soft in the forest quiet.

Ember nodded on his other side, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “Yeah.” She took a sip of her drink, eyes wandering across to the far shore. “And where I’d go to meet Asher after…”

She trailed off, words dissolving into the night. She didn’t need to finish, we both knew. Both knew what she was talking about. I brought my mug to my mouth, pausing a moment before drinking. The last time we’d met here, when I’d tried to tell her again to come home, tried to convince her it would be okay, was that really a year ago?

“I don’t know if I ever properly apologized,” Ember whispered, eyes straight ahead. “For what I did. I’m, I’m so sorry Striker, Asher.” Her voice faltered. “For everything.”

Seconds passed, each longer than the last. Striker sighed down to his hands curled around his cup.

Tentatively, he reached his arm around her shoulders, holding her against his side when she melted. “I just wish you came home sooner.” He finished his cup and set it down on the rock beside him before draping his arm around me too, bringing me in close. “I… Sometimes I can’t believe you’re both really here. I haven’t lost either of you.”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against Striker’s side, his arm around me warm and familiar and safe. Ember’s breath shook in the quiet air, soft and private. How many times had she sat here alone wanting this to happen? Sat alone on this rock in the forest thinking she’d never have anything like this again? I shifted, squinting at the fresh growth under the faint blue-white night glow. Had I really thought that much different in this same place?

A soft breath came before Ember’s whisper. “Tomorrow, can we stop at the cemetery?”

#

Noon had come and gone by the time the three of us were up and out of the house. Again I hid in the backseat of Striker’s car, peering out at the world under bright sunlight as it passed outside the window. Ember sat in the passenger seat. She shifted every few minutes, fidgeting and readjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. Even through the seat back sharp warmth met my skin. Nerves prickled along my own arms, along the palms of my hands. For years she hadn’t worked herself up enough to come here, especially not with Striker at her side. I swallowed. It was bright out too. There were people walking up and down the sidewalks, families, dog-walkers… What if something happened? To me, to her?

No. I leaned back, closed my eyes and took a long breath. I could handle it. Even if something happened I could handle it. I’d done it before, I could do it again now. Especially after all that time with Ginger.

Striker parked the car and got out first, leaning against the side as he waited for me and Ember to gather ourselves. She twisted around to catch my eye and for a moment we held each other’s gaze. Then it was over. She popped her car door open and I followed suit out onto the sidewalk.

Sunshine warmed my back and the sounds of cars and people hit me as soon as my feet met concrete. I stiffened, jaw clenching and chest tightening, but nothing. The odd pedestrian casted a curious glance at Ember, eyes wandering over her one and a half horns, her bright red eyes, but most didn’t risk staring. No one seemed to care about me, notice me at all. Even still I had to force myself to keep breathing deep and controlled as I followed almost on top of Striker’s heels.

Stepping into Seaview Cemetery though, the noise of the street fell quiet behind thick green hedges. Slowly I let the distance between me and Striker grow, my heartbeat gradually coming back down. The bright air simmered with the dead just watching, waiting, taking their time before choosing to move on. Each kept their distance, still wanting nothing to do with me, with anyone. We weren’t their relatives, their loved ones after all. Just some visitors no different than any other.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of a sea-salted breeze that tugged at my hair and rustled leaves of twisted trees overhead. Shade dappled the ground and danced over my eyelids until I bumped into Striker’s back. I blinked and stammered an apology but he hadn’t seemed to notice, focused instead on Ember’s hand on his arm.

“I…” She spoke lightly, like the wind through the shrubs laden with fresh flower buds. “I think I’d like to go ahead alone, for now.”

Striker nodded, hesitating as she withdrew her hand. “They���re just a little further down that way.”

I watched her go, head down and walking towards two familiar headstones. She found them and stopped, and Striker gently tugged at my elbow.

“We should give her some privacy.”

Right. Guilt gnawed at my gut as I let Striker lead my away. I should have known. He found a bench in a sunny patch just off the patch beside some freshly blooming shrubs and I took a seat beside him. The bush buzzed low and humming with bees visiting the fragrant blooms. Each bobbed from flower to flower, burying themselves in the petals and zipping off to disappear in the pale blue sky when they’d had their fill of nectar.

Striker pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, leaning back with an arm around the back of the bench. “I can’t remember if I told you,” His voice drew me back from the insects. “Kyra and I are heading out to the island this weekend. We’ll be leaving Friday morning, come back sometime Sunday night.”

“Just you two?” He didn’t think I could handle something like that, did he? I could already feel fatigue dragging at my bones from just coming this far in the middle of the day.

Striker raised his eyebrows a moment before scratching at the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, uh, yes. Just me and Kyra.” Oh. “I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

As much as the thought of me and Ember being alone that long made my stomach twist, I had to tell myself he was probably right. I could handle it. It might be hard but I could handle it. He wouldn’t be going at all if he thought I’d be in danger.

I slumped back in the bench, closing my eyes against the sun’s glare and letting it carefully warm my face. He deserved it, something nice like that after all he’d done for me. After all that time he must have spent worried sick over me. This weekend though… It would be six years Saturday. I stopped myself at the last second from asking about it. Of course he knew, how could he not? He was here today too, maybe that was close enough.

“Have you figured out if you’re going back to the college?”

I squinted against the sun, turning my head to face Striker as he waited for an answer. “Not yet. Haven’t heard anything from Ginger.” I sighed. “Last time we spoke she seemed optimistic though.” At least one of us seemed to think I even could handle a return.

Striker hummed to himself. “That’s good.” He stretched his arms above his head. “Seems like you still have time to think it over.”

I nodded. Chances were if I did go back I’d have to brush up on almost everything anyway after so long away. It’d take some time to get back into the full swing of it and maybe that was a good thing. Easing back might not be so bad.

Movement caught the corner of my eye and I turned as Ember rounded one of the flowering bushes. The sun caught her hair making it shine bright red as she approached, warm as the gentle heat shimmering in the air around her body. I stood and she led the way back to the headstones where we stood together in the shade.

#the city of eventide #chapter 33 #my writing #fiction #this took a while lol #but here we are #I probably could have kept working on it and being a perfectionist #but I had to stop somewhere lol

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Bertram helps Cravs with a bug problem. They meet each other, but fail to connect the dots... 

Cravendy Hound pants heavily as she BOOKS it, sprinting away from a swarm of bugs and microchus that nip at her heels. She hadn’t even been doing anything prior - just going on a walk by the stream. Just enjoying the crisp, cool air. But it would seem that the elementals had had enough of her target practice, and now the woods don’t seem as peaceful as they were in the past.

Bertram Windshadow had been attempting to do the very same with his own time on this particular day. There were always a myriad of things upon his mind these days. It did him good to simply step out and move without particular direction and unrestrained pace. Wherever to the wind lead him. That is, of course, until he spied a roegadyn woman being harried by the denizens of the Black Shroud. 1/2

Bertram Windshadow came to a stop within the canopy of a moderately sized tree before dropping down to the forest floor so that he could get a better assessment of the situation. He wasn't about to leave someone in trouble . .. in trouble. 2/2

Cravendy Hound stretches her arm back, aims her gun at her pursuers, and fires a couple of rounds. Some of the shots hit microchus, splitting them from the mob momentarily...though, with every one that was dispatched, two would spring from the bushes and take its place. Meanwhile, for the bugs, I simply present to you this question...have you ever fired a gun at a housefly? Would that work? The answer is no. No, it would not work.

Cravendy Hound: “Godsdamned, bleedin’ flyin’ pieces of shite! Overgrown spinach!” Cravs swats at the air as bugs relentlessly buzz around her. In an attempt to get them off her back, she jumps off the side of the cliff and into the river...however, she misjudges the depth of her target. It’s much too shallow to keep the bugs away from her. And now, she’s drenched AND annoyed.

Bertram Windshadow watches quietly for a moment as the stranger attempts to ward off the pests with her firearm. An attempt that causes the highlander to wince slightly just before she plunges herself into the drink . .. well, at least as much as she could manage in the relative shallowness. 1/3

Bertram Windshadow could only assume that the single-minded focus of these creatures could only come from one place. She'd done something to annoy the Elementals. Not enough to rouse them to outright *anger*, but . .. enough to peeve them. It was an easy mistake to make and Bertram figured they'd more than learned the lesson no need for further assault. 2/3

Bertram Windshadow reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a small orb. With a firm press, and a quiet click, it began belching out a stream of smoke or fog. The man then quickly rolled it in the direction of Cravendy in the hopes of helping disperse the swarm of bugs! 3/3

(Cravendy Hound) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnHmskwqCCQ )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( *dies* This was what was *exactly* what was playing in my heat. ))

Cravendy Hound is too busy swatting away the bugs and plant monsters to notice the source of the sudden smoke, so she thinks it’s the Elementals toying with her further. Her confusion serves to make her even angrier. “If yer gonna kill me, just do it an’ be done with it!” What follows is a long-winded, story of a swear that ends with a coughing fit.

Cravendy Hound - The smoke, meanwhile, does disperse the bugs. They now hover at the edges of where the cloud stops. You can’t see through it, though you can certainly hear all sorts of things happening beneath its foggy exterior.

Bertram Windshadow bobs his head to the side slightly and makes his way forward at a slightly accelerated pace, breaking his way into the opaque cloud and speaking so that he can make his presence known. "I don't think you're going to get killed today, stranger, but we should probably get you closer to Gridania ..." He calls out before attempting to reach out and touch Cravendy's arm to let her know where he is.

Cravendy Hound: “Who, in the name of Llymlaen’s left teat, are you?!” Upon being touched, she instinctively aims her gun right at Bertram, and then glances to the side. “Behind ye!”

Cravendy Hound - Her aim shifts ever so slightly, from being pointed at Bertram’s forehead to something else entirely. The shot rings out, wind brushing dangerously close to his ear, and then sinks directly into a microchu that had been sneaking up behind them. “Gods, ye...let’s get out of ‘ere.”

Bertram Windshadow winces visibly -- or invisibly given the current circumstances -- at the sound of the gunshot so close to his ear. The ear on that side of his head was nothing but ringing in the moment and he could barely make out the latter half of her speaking. My this woman was an aggressive one. Some dots were starting to connect regarding the Shrouds current state of upset. 1/2

Bertram Windshadow called out in a voice slightly louder than necessary, "Let's get out of here," he echoes her sentiment without realizing it. "They're just going to keep coming if you fight them like that." 2/2

Cravendy Hound nods. She had no desire to let the ‘friendly, forest friends’ have their way for any longer. “Gridania’s a tad far...But Hyrstmill’s just a rock skip away. Let’s find a ‘ovel to ‘ole in and be done with this.”

Bertram Windshadow has to strain to hear the suggestion, but he calls out with an affirmative sound before reaching in to the same pouch again to remove another sphere. With a 'click' the smoke begins to spew and he pivots on a heel to face the direction of the small outpost. As he does he throws his arm back and then swings it forward; throwing the smoke-spewing orb like a bowling ball. In its path it leaves a trail of smoke. "That'll hopefully then thin the herd and give us an opening!"

Cravendy Hound stares curiously at the orb, and then back to Bertram. It clicks in her mind. The smoke? Not the Elementals. This guy. This...stranger, who happens to have smoke-spewing orbs in his possession. Questions would have to wait until after they weren’t being hounded by angry flies and grass. She makes a break for Hrystmill, coughing all the while.

Bertram Windshadow set his pace to match Cravendy's as he kept himself in her wake. He felt compelled to keep an eye out for anything that might lunge at the woman while she was making a break for it. This wasn't exactly what he was expecting to do with his day but it certainly beat being stuck in his own head. "Just keep running they'll break off eventually!"

(Cravendy Hound) LOL I'm seeing an unintentional, but reoccuring theme...in an earlier rp, cravs sucked in a feather and had a coughing fit. After this, she's gonna be super hoarse xD )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Hahaha! It helps in sounding grumpy!! )) (Cravendy Hound) let's move to hrystmill! :3 )) (Cravendy Hound) LOL 6-pack a day scratchy voice. "WATER..." ))

Cravendy Hound - As they run, they can hear, but not see, the monsters pursuing close behind. But eventually, as Hrystmill comes into view, the noise grows fainter and fainter. In reclaimed silence, the sound of hearts pounding and panting breaths come back to the forefront. Cravs lets out a long groan and falls to the ground in a kneel. She beats the dirt twice with her fist, gets back up, and faces Bertram. She has no idea what to say.

Cravendy Hound: “.................So. That ‘appened.”

Bertram Windshadow eases as the sound of pursuit fades a quiet breath draining from his lungs as he finally gives himself a moment to glance over his shoulder. It hadn't seemed like they were in *mortal* danger, but it was hard to say when an elemental would decide to be a little extra cranky at any given moment. He dusted his hands off on his legs as he shifted his attention back to Cravendy. "Sure did ..." he answered, allowing himself a quiet laugh before bobbing his head to the side.

Bertram Windshadow: "I hope they didn't get any nasty bites in ..."

Cravendy Hound: “Couple of bruises and scratches, but nothin’ major. Gods, first dodos, now bugs and bloodthirsty flowers.” She lets out a long sigh. The world was conspiring against her, which...well, was fair, as she had a lot to answer for. But she wondered, why now? Why not before, or later? One thing is for sure, though. She’s thankful that this stranger was here to help out.

Cravendy Hound sizes up Bertram. He looks kind of familiar, but she shelves that feeling off to the side. “Thanks for ‘elping out. I’m Cravs. And ye are?”

(Bertram Windshadow) (( Would Bertram know that nickname? I don't *think* he would, but I figured I'd check before having him be oblivious, hahaha (Cravendy Hound) hmm I mean, she refers to herself as such, but idk if others would to her?? haha )) (Cravendy Hound) up to you really :P )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( I think Lin has only said Cravendy to him! So I don't think he'd make the immediate connection! Not yet anyway! ))

Bertram Windshadow bobs his head to the side slightly, "I can't pretend to know *why* but I think you did something to upset the elementals," he offered quietly as he finished dusting himself off and glancing around Hyrstmill, ". .. they can be a bit sensitive about how you treat the forest." He pauses for a moment before dipping his head toward the woman. "It's nice to meet you Cravs. Most folk these days call me Windshadow."

Cravendy Hound brings a hand up to her face and covers it in thought. Upset the elementals...no. Her target practice? She had thought since it was an accident, it’d be fine, but perhaps not. Blast it all, now she’d have to get a conjurer to help her apologize to those, frankly, eldritch spirits.

Cravendy Hound: “Windshadow. Now that’s a title -and- a mouthful...any reason why people call ye that?” Her brows knit together and her eyes narrow. He clearly wasn’t your average adventurer, judging from his gear. “That yer secret, crime fightin’ identity or somethin’?”

Bertram Windshadow blinks in surprise, though not that one could tell from behind the visor, at her comment. He'd never really thought about it like *that* before. There's an awkward pause before Bertram's hand rises up to the back of his neck and he shook his head. "Oh, no. It's nothing like that," he responds with a laughing tone, "It's ... an epithet. A Gyr Abanian thing."

Bertram Windshadow: "I can be ... pretty fast when I need to be. Quiet too."

Cravendy Hound just realizes that she’s smiling. Everything that had happened in the past hour. The smoke, the running...and now, Windshadow standing here, as polite as could be. He was an amusing enigma to her. “No need to be bashful. If people call ye something like that, then I doubt ye only go ‘pretty’ fast. But can ye outrun a chocobo? I’d be willin’ to bet against ye.”

Cravendy Hound laughs - the challenge only half serious. “But seriously. Ye saved my ‘ide back there. What can I do for ye...’ow about round of drinks on me?”

Bertram Windshadow can only laugh a bit more fully at the prospective challenge, his head shaking slightly as a smile finds solid purchase upon his lips. "Depends on the terrain and distance, honestly. A 'bo's going to out last me in the long run on flat ground." He shakes his head gently, as though he was dismissing the thought as overly self-indulgent. He cleared his throat at the new offer. "I ... " he pauses, tilting his head to the side, "... I wouldn't turn down a drink or two, no."

Bertram Windshadow: "But I'm just glad to have been at the right place at the right time."

Cravendy Hound scratches the back of her head, amused by how seriously Windshadow is taking the chocobo challenge. She can hardly imagine what it’d look like for a hyur to move that quickly. Would he send himself sailing forward like a rocket, or would he just move his limbs -that fast-?! Either way, she steps over and playfully bumps his shoulder with her fist. “I know a spot nearby that serves a solid Mun-Tuy Brew. Over ‘ere.”

Cravendy Hound would bring the two of them to an unassuming establishment. When she enters, she dips her head towards the Elezen barkeep, who returns the gesture. By the time Cravs takes a seat, the barkeep has already set out two cups and a bottle of brew on the table. The usual.

Bertram Windshadow laughed -- albeit a bit nervously -- as Cravendy bumped his shoulder gently while passing by while making her way further into the town. He certainly couldn't complain about a good drink of mun tuy so he followed behind her whilst glancing around the village with a thoughtful expression. He didn't say too much on the way but, as he settled in before the second cup of drink, he couldn't help but ask. "What had you out in this neck of the woods anyway?"

Cravendy Hound has already finished a cup and is halfway through pouring herself another glass. She places the bottle back to the center of the table with a satisfying, though loud, thump. “......Ye’d be surprised ‘ow far those critters chased me. That said, I come out ‘ere now and again. Nice trees, nice folk.” She clears her throat, and then says in a slightly lower voice: “The drinks not bad too.”

Bertram Windshadow might have -- perhaps -- been attempting to discern what the woman might have down to agitate the elementals, but ... he didn't seem like he was about to start prying where he wasn't invited. It didn't seem like he was Like That. Instead he bobbed his head forward and began a much more *measured* approach to his drinking. "I find it similarly calming. Spend time up in the boughs can really help clear the head when you're feeling a bit overwhelmed."

Cravendy Hound raises a brow. “So, ye run really fast, and ye have orbs that shoot out smoke. What are ye, some kind of courier? If ye feelin’ overwhelmed, then just tell the big man to stuff it. Don’t work so much.” She lifts her cup up with a grin. “Lifes too short not to indulge in the good stuff.”

(Cravendy Hound) lmao I can't get over how these two haven't connected the dots )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( It's *pretty* great! Hahaha. ))

Bertram Windshadow tilts his head to the side slightly as he listens to Cravendy's Words of Wisdom. He sips upon his drink thoughtfully for a moment before giving a concessionary bob of his head. He certainly found himself dwelling on the bad recently. Though it wasn't quite related to work as she might be assuming. Given his effective unemployment at the moment. "... I suppose that's true." He murmurs quietly, maybe more to himself than to Cravendy proper, "Is that what you were doing out there?"

Cravendy Hound leans back on her chair, feet propped up on the table. “Chin up. Ye seem the earnest type. Try at somethin’ long enough and it’ll change, eventually.” She takes another sip and listens to the sound of the waterwheel turning on the river. Windshadow’s second question gives her pause. “What? Was I...out ‘ere to indulge, ye mean?”

Bertram Windshadow quietly nods his head in response to her further words of assurance -- though it seemed difficult to determine how they were received behind the vidor -- before she asked her clarifying question. "Oh," he cleared his throat and shook his head, "Well, that or just ... enjoying the 'good stuff' as it were."

Cravendy Hound smirks, and gestures to the alcohol on the table, as if that was answer enough to his question. The two made an interesting drinking duo, and Cravs found herself drawn to her withdrawn, fast-running companion. When they eventually parted ways, she let him know that he was welcome to swing by for another round of drinks...or perhaps, she would find him, and make good on her bet that he could outrun a chocobo.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Bertram Windshadow #A LATE POST BUT #fddkjsl these two #the power of BEEs have brought them together #Cravs just thinks Bertram is a very very professional courier

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Dream A Little Dream - 3

Our next @bingokisses prompt is Tucking Hair Behind the Ear/Palm Kisses! This fic went in...a rather different direction than expected, but I wanted to make full use of the dream concept at least once.

The earlier sections are available on AO3.

Chapter 3: AD 1017 - The Impossible Dream

The knight rode his white stallion easily through the mist, mirror-bright armor resting lightly on his back and limbs. Ahead, a brilliant white stone tower rose, tall enough to pierce the sky, its peak obscured by black storm clouds. Rose bushes thick with thorns surrounded the base, barring all entry except through a single window, nearly a hundred feet high.

He swung himself down from the saddle and strode across the green sward. “Fair maiden!” The warrior lifted the visor of his helm, throwing his voice to echo off the stone. “Tales of your sorrows have spread throughout the kingdom. But fear not, for I, Sir Aziraphale, have come to rescue you from your sordid fate and see you safely hence!”

Far above, a figure leaned from the window. Narrow face pale above a deep black dress, clinging tightly to every curve and angle. Long limbs lost in sweeping crimson sleeves perfectly matched to the figure's main feature: endless waves of dark red hair. A single lock slipped free and tumbled down the side of the tower, nearly long enough to brush the ground below. Long-fingered hands cradled a pert chin as shining eyes took in the knight.

“Really? That’s what you’re going to open with?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s gauntlet struck his hip with an annoyed clank. “I was trying to set a mood here.”

“You certainly set something.” Crowley chuckled, sending another ripple through the ocean of red hair. “I mean, it started well enough, I guess, but sordid fate? See you safely hence? Kind of falls flat if you ask me. Didn’t even mention slaying any wicked beasts.”

“Well. Not really the slaying sort.”

“Don’t let the princesses hear you say that.” Crowley’s fingers drummed on the windowsill. “They all love to see a good slaying. As for what comes next, is safety all you can promise? Might hold out for a better offer.”

“I hardly think you’re in a – a bargaining position up there.”

“Oi, you know how many knights have come by before you? I usually stop counting after twelve, and that was a while back. This tower is prime real estate.” A flash of white teeth behind blood red lips. “Most of them were much better at the speeches, you know. I can give you pointers if you like.”

Aziraphale shifted his cape back over his shoulders, covering his armor. “This isn’t a game, Crowley. Can’t you be serious for once in your life?”

“Everything is a game, Angel.” A flick of Crowley's head sent another river of hair wriggling down the side of the tower. Thick, loose curls, with a strong braid running through the middle. The tips of the hair came to rest twenty feet above the rose bushes. “Oh, will you look at that? Guess I shouldn’t have trimmed it last week, but you know. Split ends. Did you bring a ladder? None of the other knights brought ladders. You’d think, maiden in a tower, that’s the first thing they’d grab.”

“How many knights managed to scale the tower?”

“Jealous?” Crowley braced against the window frame and leaned forward, spilling out the rest of the hair, as well as an ample expanse of bosom. “Don’t worry, the dragon got all of them. They may have talked nice, but they were just shiny armor and fancy words. No substance. Not like you, of course.”

“Flattery won’t win me over.”

“Flattery can do anything, properly applied.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and adjusted his helmet again. Really, none of this was going remotely to plan. He ought to just drop it and walk away, but not until he was absolutely sure of one thing. “Crowley. Are you alright? The rumors all say that the maiden in the tower is being held against her will. Do…do you need help?”

Crowley’s head tipped this way and that, thinking it over. “Well…yes, I suppose. See, I can’t leave this tower until someone tames the dragon. Why, did you want to try?”

“That was the plan, yes.” He glanced about. The tower was atop a hill, so despite the mist he could see a fair distance. No sign of any monster. “But, if we can get you down before it returns…”

“Nh. Well. About that.” Crowley’s grin grew wider, face grew longer, splitting into a black-scaled, arrow-shaped head with a mouth full of fangs and smoke. “I’m the maiden and the dragon. Ssseemed more efficient that way.”

Delicate, thin hands turned to claws, carving deep cracks into the stone of the wall, and the spill of hair twisted into a long red tail that slashed and darted through the air.

Aziraphale’s horse fled with a terrified scream, but the angel stood his ground, braced and unflinching as the tail wrapped around him, lifted him, pulled him through the air like a fish on a line.

All at once, he was inside the creature’s lair, a deep stone cave filled with stalactites and stalagmites, a pile of shining treasure somewhere just out of sight. One scaled fist clutched the angel from breastplate to greave, while a claw dragged around the edge of his helm, scratching curiously.

“Well? Aren’t you going to sssscream?”

Aziraphale found one golden eye, towering somewhere above him, and held its gaze. “And why should I do that?”

“I’m a monsssster, you idiot.” The fist tightened slightly, enough to make the armor creak and groan. “I could dessstroy you in an insssstant.”

“But you won’t.” Aziraphale wriggled his shoulders, pulling his arms free one at a time. “You won’t hurt me. Ever.”

“How can you be ssssure?” Twin gouts of steam shot from enormous nostrils, volcanically hot. “You should kill me before I tear you apart.”

“You really do need to listen better. I already told you, I’m not the slaying type. I’m here to save you from your fate, no more, no less.”

“You can’t – Angel, there’sss nothing to ressscue me from! You can’t take me away from myself.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t say anything about taking you away.” Aziraphale swept the helmet off his head, dropping it to clatter across the cavern floor. A mass of curly white hair shook free, not as long as Crowley’s had been, but wild and loose, spilling across his shoulders and face. “If you can be both prisoner and dragon…I am both knight and maiden.” His hands rested on the claw that hovered before his face, drawing it close, pressing his cheek to it. “I’m here to rescue you. I’m here to join you.”

“Angel…” The tip of the claw traced across his skin, sharp but gentle, and tucked a lock of hair behind Aziraphale’s ear. “You can’t…you can’t want that.”

“My dear Crowley. What more could I want? You are my friend, my trusted companion. The one being who…who makes me feel…myself. Who makes me feel that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Please, Crowley, let me do the same for you.”

The clawed hand opened, and suddenly Aziraphale stood on Crowley’s palm, every opalescent scale as big as his own hand. Nothing held him back now. He could jump. He could flee.

Instead, Aziraphale knelt down, armor melting into a shining silver gown, and curled up in the cup of Crowley’s hand as if it were the softest down bed in the world. Pressed his lips to the draconian palm. “Whatever form you take, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you mean that?”

Aziraphale glanced up in time to see the dragon’s snout melting again, softening, re-shaping into a narrow face with high cheekbones; neither male nor female, human nor dragon; black scales traced back from a jaw too wide, golden eyes stared unblinking below a sharply sloped brow. The hands that clutched Aziraphale’s elbows were still tipped with sharp claws, and a bright red tongue – splitting into a charcoal-black fork – shot out to taste the air.

He smiled, taking Crowley’s face in his hands. “There you are! My darling…” Aziraphale kissed those thin lips, tasting their desert-dry heat, and felt trembling hands clutch at his hair.

“Angel…”

Aziraphale pressed close, hands tracing down Crowley’s sinuous, bare back, feeling the form shift under his touch – scales, soft skin, silky hair, hot, cold, always changing. Crowley’s tongue flicked down his neck, just to the neckline of his gown, questioning.

“Yes,” he whispered into Crowley’s ear. “Oh, yes, Crowley—”

The wagon bounced over a hole in the road, jostling all its contents, including an angel who had been more than a little lost in his thoughts. The rap of his skull against a barrel helped to clear his mind.

Aziraphale quickly tugged his tunic straight and ran his hands through his hair – cut short, as always, regardless of the current fashion – glancing furtively at the other travelers. Two men and an older woman had also hitched a lift to the nearest city. He felt certain they must somehow know what he had imagined, that somehow the intensity of the fantasy had projected itself into the air around them—

But, no, all three sat, arms folded, concerned only with their own thoughts and their own troubles.

Clearing his throat, Aziraphale settled back into the corner of the wagon, tugging up the hood of his undyed wool cloak to hide the flush of his cheeks.

He daydreamed far more often than he used to, particularly while traveling – and more and more often, his fantasies featured one particular being. Though they were rarely so complex. Not to mention so physical. His imagination had simply run away with him, as sometimes happened.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the grip on his shoulders, drawing him deeper into the embrace—

Oh, no. No, that was dangerous. Crowley would never agree to…oh, whatever that little fantasy had symbolized. A partnership of some kind.

Well, no that wasn’t true. Crowley had suggested a partnership…an Arrangement…once before. Dropped hints every time they met lately. Aziraphale had refused to even consider it, but perhaps…perhaps…the time had come to think again.

Not just yet. Better to consider such things in complete privacy. He took the fantasy and carefully wrapped it in soft cotton, tucking it into the hidden drawer of his mind where he kept his very favorite daydreams, to revisit at a more opportune moment. He would need something simpler to entertain him on the ride.

Aziraphale carefully selected another dream, well-worn from use, and his mind slowly filled with a little stone cottage in a forest glade, the sound of waves echoing from just out of sight, and a dark-robed figure with red hair dancing in the wind, picking blackberries from the bushes…

--

“There you are!” Aziraphale’s hands cupped Crowley’s face, hideous and twisted though it was, but he only smiled, so warmly, so guilelessly, that it broke Crowley’s heart all over again. “My darling…” The angel rose up on his toes to press full, plump lips to Crowley’s mouth, arms pulling the demon into an embrace so close, so tight, that clawed hands scrambled to reciprocate.

“Angel…” Crowley meant to kiss Aziraphale’s jaw, but the serpent tongue had a mind of its own, exploring his neck down to the opening of his gown, the swells and curves hidden underneath. Surely that would be the last straw; surely now Aziraphale would see Crowley was nothing more than a beast, a monster whose very presence defiled everything pure. Crowley waited for the rejection, for Aziraphale to struggle to get away—

“Yes,” the soft voice curled into Crowley’s ear, even as soft hands clutched at narrow hips. “Oh, yes, Crowley—”

He snapped awake, scrambling to keep his balance on the branch as the wind chilled his flushed skin.

That had…not been the dream he expected. Usually, after an attempted exorcism, he had bad dreams for a week.

Crowley had fallen asleep in a tree, after being driven out of the nearby village by an overzealous priest. It happened more often these days; the humans were becoming more aware, somehow, more able to see him for what he really was. He’d need to improve his disguise, work harder to fit in.

Work harder to be anything other than himself.

The one being who…who makes me feel…myself. Who makes me feel that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“Easy for you,” he grumbled into the darkness. “You’re a blessed angel. You’re as bloody perfect as the day you were made. Why would you ever feel ashamed? And I’m – I’m just…”

Whatever form you take, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

He closed his eyes again, trying to catch that warmth, that feeling of acceptance, one more time. Not that Aziraphale actually felt that way, he’d rejected Crowley's idea for an Arrangement, cut him off any time he tried to even bring it up. But still…

Crowley drifted off to sleep, hoping he’d dream of Aziraphale again.

--

Thank you for reading! This one got WILDLY out of hand as I wrote, but in a good way, I suppose. More will be coming shortly, but if you liked it, please drop a comment here or on AO3!

Let me know if you want me to tag you on future chapters.

@angel-and-serpent

#good omens prime #ineffable husbands #monster crowley #genderfluid crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #fairly tale retelling #asexual ineffable husbands #asexual aziraphale #asexual crowley #my writing #Dream a little dream #ao3 link #prompt fic

[fiercedeitylink-x-linkeduniverse]

Chapter 5: Portal Shifting

Time's POV

I walked into the healers' house. I made sure to be quiet so I wouldn't disturb anyone else. As I made my way over to Fierce, I heard someone crying. Is that Fierce? I hurried forward. I opened the door and to my horror, I saw Fierce crying in his sleep.

"Dad please don't die! Please. I'm sorry Dad." He was shaking with the force of his sobs. I swallowed hard. I hurried over to Fierce. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder.

His whole body jerked and his eyes snapped open. The terror and pain in his eyes... They were similar to some of the boys after their nightmares, especially Wild's. I removed my hand and glanced around the room, looking for a stool or chair of some sort. I spied a stool, walked over to pick it up, and placed it right by Fierce's bed. I sat down and waited for him to speak. He struggled to sit up on his own, so I helped him up. He swiped at his tears.

"I'm sorry, I just... When Wind got hurt, it reminded me of my dad when he died. I just..." His voice trailed off and tears began pouring down his face. He swiped at them again before speaking.

"My dad died in my arms, there was nothing I could do... I wasn't strong enough to save the soldiers, I wasn't strong enough to save Termina, I wasn't strong enough to save my dad from Majora!" He choked out. I froze. Majora should be dead, I killed him. I made sure of it. This was my fault. I should've made sure there wasn't a way for him to come back. I placed my hands on his. They were squeezing the sheets tightly.

"Nobody should've had to fight Majora, let alone a teenager. That shouldn't have been your burden to bear. Majora will never hurt you again, I promise." I'm going to make sure that this monster won't haunt Fierce anymore.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" He began to sob and I wrapped my arms around him.

"It's going to be okay, Fierce we're here for you now." I felt him take shuddering breaths as he struggled to calm down.

"I have some explaining to do tomorrow. I want to tell everyone what's going on. I was planning on doing it later when I got more used to you guys... But I don't have a choice now."

"Fierce if you don't want to explain anything, you don't have to," I hugged him tighter, hoping that I could reassure him.

"I want to though. You deserve to know." He whispered. His voice this whole time was hoarse and raspy before he was injured but now it was much worse. I'm going to make sure he takes a health potion before he starts talking tomorrow.

"Go back to sleep Fierce. We'll be waiting until YOU'RE ready to talk." I squeezed him one last time before letting go.

"Thank you, Time."

"You're welcome, Fierce."

~~~~~~~

3rd POV

Time walked back to the inn, his mind swirling with the countless thoughts that were racing through it. He walked into the inn. Warriors and Twilight were up.

"He'll explain everything tomorrow." Time replied before they could even ask.

"Is he okay?" Four asked, having just gotten off watch.

"Honestly? I don't know. Physically he's mending. Mentally? He's... He's not in a good place right now. He needs our support, not our questions." Time's voice was quiet with the recent revelations from Fierce. The guilt tried to crushed him but he refused to give in.

"Who's-"

"I will," Legend spoke up. He got up and brushed himself off. He took the same position that Four had just moments ago.

~~~~~

Wind's POV

I sat by Fierce's bed while he slept. I want to be there when he wakes up. He saved ME. I want to repay him for what he's done for me. The only thing I can think of is to be there when he wakes up. He's been out for two days. Everyone is worried. Especially Time. It's like he... I don't know what's going on with him. Apparently, Fierce had told him something private. Fierce had planned to explain everything, including his journey. But he didn't wake up.

The healers said that there was more internal damage than they had anticipated. So his body was forcing him to rest up by making him sleep. Hyrule wasn't sure if that was the whole story. He pointed out that he had used massive amounts of magic and was forced to drink a TON of red potions. It had taken a toll on his body. I sighed and laid my head by Fierce's left hand. I froze when I felt his fingers twitch before his hand slowly ruffled my hair.

"Fierce?!" I choked. He smiled weakly back at me.

Fierce's POV

How long have I been out? It feels like an eternity. I heard someone sigh and their hair brushed against my fingers. Wind? I opened my eyes. Wind's head was by my left hand. I slowly moved my hand until it was on his head. I slowly ruffled his hair. I felt him freeze up.

"Fierce?!" He choked. I smiled weakly back at him. Tears started leaking out of his eyes and he launched himself onto my chest, sobbing hard. I let out a startled yelp. I winced in pain but didn't comment and wrapped my arms around him. Four walked in carrying a tray of food and froze when he saw me.

"Fierce! He's awake everyone!" Four hollered before walking over and placing the food down slowly.

"Wind, you're probably hurting him." Four murmured. I winced in pain.

"Sor-sorry. I just missed you," He hiccuped loudly and wiped away his tears. Everyone else walked in looking worried and relieved at the same time. Four and Wind helped me sit up. I winced and placed a hand on my chest and hissed. It's okay, you've been through worse.

"I have some explaining to do," I rasped. Four shook his head.

"Eat first, then we'll see what we're gonna do." His eyes had specks of red in them.

"Okay," I muttered and noted that my fingers weren't working right. I frowned and flexed them until the proper feeling returned. I rotated my wrists to get the blood flowing again. Wild watched me like a hawk. Hyrule didn't miss any details.

"Is that from previous damage?" Hyrule asked.

"Yes, I fell through a frozen lake and almost lost my hands to frostbite." I rasped and Wind snatched up my hands and start massaging them.

"Let me know when to stop," Wind replied. It felt really good actually. My ex-girlfriend would do this when my fingers got too stiff to move. I felt my ears flick back and forth as my hands fully relaxed and pain left them.

"Thank you," I whispered. Wind stopped and hugged me and hopped off so could eat. It took me longer than I would've liked, but I got to eat.

"Um, I know you have questions... But I can't explain everything... I went through a lot and I haven't had the time to process everything before I fell through the portal. I was out camping to give myself to process and recover mentally. I just wanted to clarify that first," I started coughing when I finished, my throat throbbing and my ribs screamed in protest. I heaved struggling to catch my breath, and Wind offered me a red potion. I winced before chugging it down. I gagged at the taste and wiped off my mouth.

"Thanks, Wind." I rasped. My throat feels better. I shouldn't start hacking my lungs out.

"So, about the sword... I found it on an ancient battleground. It was stabbed into the ground and had a red cloth tied to it. I didn't want to touch it, but my friend... She told me it didn't deserve to be forgotten so I took the sword home with me. I've been using it ever since. I um-" I fidgeted wondering how much I should tell them.

"Fierce, if don't want to explain something, just say so." Legend flapped his hand.

"... There is one more thing... I have two pieces of the Triforce." I held up my left hand. The Triforce of courage and power glowed briefly.

"Woah! That's so cool!" Wind grinned at me. I smiled back at him.

"I didn't necessarily want The Triforce of Power, but I couldn't let Majora get his hands on it." I rubbed the marking on my hand. My right hand was heavily bandaged... How did not notice that?

"Majora?" Legend's face turned a bit pale.

"As in the mask, Majora?" His eyes clouded over troubled.

"Oh... He's just a mask? He was a demon god where I'm from..." I muttered.

"His spirit was banished from the mask and it became a normal mask." Time spoke up, his one staring at the tiles.

"But somehow he came back to life," I finished for him.

"I tried to figure out how he came back, but couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation." I scratched the back of my head.

"That's in the past. And that's where it's going to stay." Time stern tone caused everyone to flinch.

"Anyway, I want to apologize to you Fierce. I knew something was stalking us and I should've told you to explore somewhere else. " Wild's ears were flicking back and forth.

"There's nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your fault. We all knew something was off. If anyone should be to blame it's the monsters. They were the ones who harmed us," I wrapped an arm around Wind's shoulders.

"Alright, we should let Fierce rest. We need to get moving soon. I want to introduce him to Flora," Wild grinned.

~~~~

Sky's POV

Fierce was finally up and about now. He was very stiff and had some trouble breathing if he did too much. I could sympathize with him on that front. My asthma causes me to have trouble breathing from time to time. Fierce was constantly stretching making sure his muscles wouldn't get too stiff from not moving. Wind would copy him and it was pretty cute, watching Wind trying to mimic Fierce.

Everyone was getting their gear gathered up and ready to go since Fierce deemed himself ready to travel. He knew the limits of his own body but the healers were hesitant to let him go. They were worried he was pushing himself. Wild interjected saying he would teleport everyone there and he wouldn't be walking for too long.

But we didn't expect a portal to appear under our feet and cause everyone to be separated. I fell on my behind with a yelp. Fierce groaned loudly and I watched as he struggled to get out of the poor bush he landed on. "Do you need help, Fierce?" I gingerly climbed to my feet and walked over to him.

"I- grunt - Yeah. Help." I felt my lips twitched violently as I grabbed his arm.

"Holy birds! You're really stuck!" I pulled harder but he was stuck. Fierce's ears turned cherry red as he offered me his injured hand. I grabbed them both and pulled. I yelped as Fierce was suddenly set free from the bush and landed on top of me.

"Fierce, get off. Can't breathe!" I gasped out and he scrambled off. I coughed, getting my breath back, and sat up.

"Fierce...You just killed that poor bush." I started heaving as I struggled not to laugh. It was practically squashed. Fierce turned completely red briefly before I lost it and howled with laughter. Fierce was too embarrassed to even laugh. His ears pinned back briefly before climbing to his feet and offering me a hand up. I gladly took his hand. Fierce pulled me to my feet easily. I guess using such a heavy claymore requires you to be quite strong. Hyrule forbade him from using it until he was completely healed and Legend agreed. Apparently, Legend had cleaned off his blade for him and knew how heavy it was. He uses power bracelets but he could tell how heavy it was. I shook my head clear of my thoughts.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked eyeing the landscape.

"Unfortunately no. We'll have to get out of the forest before I can figure it out. I've been to everyone's Hyrule so far. But I don't remember being in any forests besides Wild's Hyrule."             I sighed.

"We need to find shelter. It's gonna rain." Fierce began rubbing his wrists.

"Weather affects your wrists too?" I asked worriedly when I heard him hiss.

"I can feel it getting cold. Probably going to be rain and sleet. Ouch!" His right wrist popped loudly to my horror. He cradled his arm to his chest hissing.

"Are you okay?" I hurried over.

"I- I won't be able to use my hand now. Gosh, darn it!" I unclipped my sailcloth from its clasp.

"Let me help. I can use this for a temporary sling until we find something else," Fierce's eyes were clouding over with phantom pain and he nodded. I made sure to be extremely gentle as I placed his right hand in the makeshift sling. He hissed loudly but didn't yelp. I tied the knot quickly so we could keep moving and find somewhere to hide from the oncoming storm.

~~~~~

It had taken some time before we had found a cave but it started storming midway to the cave Fierce had spotted. By the time we got there, we were soaked to the bone. Fierce was shivering uncontrollably and I immediately began searching for moss and bark to start a fire. I hunted quickly through my bag first to see if I had any bundles of wood leftover from camping. Thankfully I had some left. I quickly placed them in the fire breaker Fierce had somehow managed to create. He was in a fetal position trying to keep what little warmth he had left.

"Fierce, I hate to ask this of you... But I don't have any flint and steel to start the fire and you use a little bit of magic just to get it started? But no more than that!" I watched as he lifted his head and extended his left hand. He muttered a spell under his breath and the wood caught on fire.

"You need to change Fierce, your bandages will need to be changed." I pulled off my tunic and chainmail and set it somewhat close to the fire. I pulled out a spare tunic and slipped it over my head. Fierce whined softly in pain. I looked up and watched as he struggled to move his left hand. I walked over and sat down next to him.

"Let me take care of your tunic and wounds. You can't even move your fingers." I gently pulled off his gauntlets carefully but it still caused him great pain.

~~~~

After helping him change out of his wet clothes I made sure to immediately redo his bandages. One of his chest wounds was red from being rubbed with a soaked cloth. I winced and decided not to put anything on it. It was so raw that if it could make any sounds it would be screaming. Unfortunately, that means Fierce couldn't wear his spare tunic.  He was covered in goosebumps and shivering violently. I had wrapped his arm up after drying off my sailcloth and drying him off with dry cloth from my bag. I leafed through Fierce's bag trying to find a cloak he could use. Thankfully there was one he could use. I gently wrapped it around his shoulder and made sure he was covered.

Fierce didn't talk and was struggling to stay awake. I scooted the both of us closer to the fire to keep him warm. I had rearranged the bedrolls earlier so that we could sleep there when I was done taking care of Fierce. When everything was said and done, Fierce's head was buried in my chest. I wrapped my arms around him to keep him close so he would stay warm. I silently pleaded with the goddesses that Fierce won't be sick tomorrow.

~~~~~

Fierce's POV

I woke up to a vivid burning sensation in my chest. I hissed in pain and pulled away from Sky. I slowly sat up and to my horror, my wound was swollen and there was a liquid substance leaking out of it and down my chest. I gagged.

"Oh no! I was hoping this wouldn't happen!" Sky whispered and shook his head.

"Your wound is infected and Hyrule isn't here to help,"

I'm screwed.

#fierce deity link #linked universe fanfic #linked universe au

[speedybaeandbirdiebae]

WandaVision: On a Very Special Episode... Part 2 AU Remake

Pietro and Candance are pulled into the hex and are now happy residents of Westview.  But there is something more to just a visit with a long lost sister. Warnings: Spoilers from Episode 5 of WandaVision, uber cuteness of Billy and Tommy, and fangirling Pairings: Pietro Maximoff x Candance Wilson (OC), Wanda x Vision Words: 2266

It hurt, everything hurt. She didn’t know what was going on nor did she understand why she felt a warm summer’s breeze rather than the crisp autumn air. However, in her head she could hear someone repeat the phrase “Play your part, you’re no longer who you know you are, you’ve always been here in Westview, it is your home”. Sitting up on the soft green grass Candance looked around the strange town square. Everyone seemed to be going about their businesses. She could hear excited chatter, people weren’t paying her any attention, some of them did stop to stare at her, some of them pointed and whispered. She sat up and placed a hand to her head, she let out a soft groan an oncoming headache invaded her head. Looking down at her clothes she began to wonder just what she was wearing, however that voice in her head once again repeated the same phrase, telling her to play her part, she needed to keep things happy, hopeful, and no sorrow. “Pietro?” Candance whispered softly as she looked beside her and saw her boyfriend was sitting next to her, but wait he was staring up at the sky unblinking almost as if he was entranced by something. “Piet! Pietro!” Pietro snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at Candance with a small smile. His hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Hey sleepyhead.” “Pietro, I was asleep?” Candance asked softly staring at him. “Wait, you let me sleep in public like some kind of spazz?!” she slapped him in the chest. “How rude, maybe I should find someone else to be my husband then.” Pietro shook his head. “I’m sorry princess,” he chuckled before he stood up and dusted his pants off. “Come on, we need to get going to find Wanda.” “Wanda? You never mentioned a Wanda.” Candance said before a thought invaded her mind breaking through the cloud that was covering her memories. “Wanda…Wanda is Pietro’s sister; she’s my best friend and she needs hel—What if Wanda is his ex-girlfriend?! What if he’s cheating on me?!” “Wanda’s my sister,” Pietro assured her. “We haven’t seen each other since she left home when she was 15, our parents had left us alone and I tried to keep her happy.” “Right, your sister,” Candance got up and stretched as she once again took note of her attire. She was wearing a pair of leggings under a short skirt with a top that revealed her midriff. She reached up and touched her head feeling that her hair was held up in a tight high ponytail with curls framing her face. She looked over at Pietro quietly and took in his appearance. Pietro was dressed in a pair of black jeans with a purple shirt and a black leather jacket over it. His hair was slicked back with a few strands out of place. What stood out the most was the strange necklace he was wearing. However, something else was wrong, Pietro sounded different, he didn’t have his accent. That was one thing that Candance remembered him having, and she also knew had a better sense of style. What was going on? “Come on babe, we have to go visit Wanda,” Pietro told her. “I think she lives around her somewhere.” “Umn, ok.” Candance fell silent and gave a soft squeak of surprise when she felt him lift her up and into his arms. “Pietro, I can walk on my own.” “How can I let you walk when we’ll be running?” Pietro kissed the tip of her nose and took off running. He took a moment to look down at Candance as he noticed she was holding onto him for dear life. Wait why was he carrying her? She had something to keep up with him, right? She’d been lent a pair of wings by Sam---wait no Candance couldn’t keep up with him. She wasn’t gifted with powers. Not like him and Wanda. She was a normal girl he met in Sokovia when Candance was volunteering at a farm. Candance tried her best to figure out what was going on, why was everything so strange? Why did her head hurt? Most of all why was everyone they passed unphased by Pietro using his power in public? Shaking her head to clear the thoughts she sucked in a breath and laid her head on Pietro’s chest as she let him carry her to wherever the mysterious Wanda lived. 

---------------------------------------   “Pietro and Candance were pulled into the hex,” Monica looked at Darcy and Jimmy with worry all over her face. She knew the two were capable of fighting but she also knew that Wanda would probably eject them from her world if they even tried talking to her. “Pietro?” Darcy asked. “You mean Pietro Maximoff? Wanda’s brother? I thought he was killed by Ultron.” “He was, but the technology used by S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back, and he had been recovering with Clint Barton and his family.” Monica explained. “And what’s his relation to Agent Wilson?” Jimmy asked. “Agent Wilson, Candance is Sam Wilson’s younger sister and also a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Monica said. “She and I are friends and I’ve had her help me out from time to time. She and Pietro are dating.” “Dating?” Darcy got a small smile on her face and looked at Jimmy holding out her hand. “Pay up Woo, I called it.” Jimmy rolled his eyes and pulled some money out of his pocket and handed it to Darcy. “So, Pietro and Candance went into the hex to bring Wanda out?” “No, Pietro might’ve ran inside the hex to save Wanda himself and if I know Candi, she probably went after him.” Monica shook her head. “But don’t count those two out, they might be the ones to get Wanda to stop the hex.” “Or she could kill them,” Darcy reminded Monica. “We’ve seen her angry and we don’t want to make her angrier. I---.” She heard Wanda and Vision arguing coming from the tv. She quickly walked over to it and looked at the scene unfolding. “This is new.” “New?” “Wanda and Vision don’t fight, and it looks like Wanda’s not cutting it out of her show.” Darcy said.

------------------------------------- Pietro sat Candance down in front of a house and looked at her with a small smile. “This is where Wanda lives,” he said in excitement. “I can’t wait until you meet her.” “Pietro,” Candance began and placed a hand on his cheek. “Something’s wrong, haven’t you noticed how everyone’s happy? And what happened to your voice and—ow, umn yeah I’m excited to meet Wanda.” “Did you hurt yourself?” Pietro asked almost immediately began checking her for any bruises. “No, I don’t see anything, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you while I was carrying you?” “No no, just a headache,” Candance assured him with a smile. “I’m fine, come on let’s go say hi to your sister.” Pietro nodded as he turned to ring the doorbell. He didn’t notice a figure hiding behind some bushes in the yard nor did he notice that Candance had gone to investigate. Candance for a second had regained control of her mind and looked around the yard, she reached into her…handbag and groaned when she saw the only thing in it was a squirt gun. Shaking her head she walked toward the bushes and got closer and closer until. A stray black cat leapt out of the bushes and hissed at her before taking off. Candance rolled her eyes before looking over her shoulder when she heard the front door open. She spun around and saw it, or rather her. “Wanda is here, so she’s sa---ow…” Candance fell to her knees and held her head before looking up with a small smile and got up as she jogged up to where Pietro was. “Wanda who is this?” Vision asked. Wanda looked at Vision before looking back at Pietro. She didn’t say a word and merely continued staring at him in disbelief. “Long lost bro gets to squeeze his stinkin’ sister to death or what?” Pietro asked and held open his arms for Wanda to hug him. “Pietro…” Wanda whispered before she hugged him tightly. Pietro hugged his sister with a small smile before looking up and took notice of Vision. “Who’s the popsicle?” Wanda stayed silent before noticing Candance standing behind Pietro. “Candance?” she whispered before shaking her head. There was no way that her brother was here let alone her best friend. “Wanda, I’m sorry for dropping in unexpectantly, but I wanted to see you.” Pietro told her before he turned and grabbed Candance by the hand and pull her inside the house. “I know you have several questions but first I’d like you to meet Cadence, we’re going to be married in a few months.” “Hi,” Cadence said as she tried to figure out where she had seen Wanda before. It was strange but for some reason it seemed as though they met before. “I’m sorry that we didn’t call but Pietro insisted on surprising you.” “No problem,” Wanda waved a hand and smiled. “Oh, um Pietro and Candance, this is my husband Vision.” “Vision huh?” Pietro looked Vision up and down as he raised an eyebrow. “Where did you meet him?” “At um, a party,” Wanda said quickly. “Vision and I have been married for awhile now, we’ve lived in Westview for years.” “Oh cool,” Pietro said. “So, I think me and bro-in-law should get to know each other, how about you and Candi go and get to know each other.” “Good idea,” Wanda said. “Follow me.” Candance followed Wanda into the kitchen, as she looked at her quietly before sighing. “So Wanda, you and Pietro grew up overseas and moved here when you were teenagers?” “Uh, yeah sort of, our parents are…” Wanda began and paused. “Our parents are no longer with us, but Pietro coming here after 7 years is kind of a surprise.” “I didn’t know he had a sister,” Candance laughed softly and shook her head before looking at Wanda as she walked forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Wanda, what’s going on? Why are we here? Are you ok what’s goi--.” “Candance are you ok?” Wanda asked narrowing her eyes as red magic began to circulate around her hands. “Yeah, I meant are you ok, I know how weird it is for Pietro to be here,” Candance said and let Wanda go. “I’m sorry can I have a glass of water?” “Yeah…” Wanda stepped away and went to get Candance a glass of water. She took note of the strange bag on Candance’s back. “So where are you from?” “Oh, I’m from Harlem, New York.” Candance said brightly and looked around the kitchen. “I was raised by my brother after our parents were murdered by gang members. I think that’s why Pietro and I bonded so quickly two orphans in this world with just our siblings.” “I see, and you’ve seen your brother?” Wanda asked pouring water into a glass before sliding it to Candance. “Hmn? Yeah, Sam is in Washington D.C. on business for a while,” Candance explained. “He and his friend are running our family’s restaurant.” “I see,” Wanda said as she began walking around to get behind Candance to inspect the bag she was wearing on her back. “So, your brother lives nearby, and you decided to come with Pietro to see me?” “Yeah, it’s a fun road trip before Pietro and I get married.” Candance began to giggle. “I think he wants to run off to Vegas to get married.” “I see,” Wanda managed to get behind Candance and reached for the bag before she saw Candance turn around. “Oh do you want me to take your backpack up to the guest room where you Pietro will be staying?” “No thanks,” Candance said and looked at Wanda with a serious look. “You’re obvious curious about what I have in this bag aren’t you?” “no no,” Wanda said shaking her head. “It’s nothing really,” Candance took off the backpack and opened it as she held up a piece of red fabric attached to a red sleeve. “A design I’m working on for Halloween, but you’ll have to wait and see what it is, since I want to keep it a secret from Pietro.” “Oh, I see,” Wanda laughed it off as she finally relaxed deciding that Candance couldn’t have been sent in to pull her from her life she had built with Vision. “Hey, we should go into the living room and see how the guys are doing?” Candance asked. “I’m sure they’re probably bonding.” “Right.” Wanda said and followed Candance out of the kitchen into the living room and laughed at the sight of Vision being held in a headlock by Pietro. “Pietro, Vision what’s going on in here?” “He attacked me,” Vision said. “Stop being a baby.” Pietro chuckled. “I thought I’d show bro-in-law some Sokovian self-defense moves. He’ll need to learn since he’s married to you.” Wanda rolled her eyes but laughed deciding to let Pietro have his fun. She did begin wondering if she brought Pietro back to life, but why did she bring Candance to her world too? Was it because she missed her best friend? PLEASE STAND BY

#wandavision #pietro maximoff x oc #pietro maximoff #candi wilson #Speedy Bae and Birdie Bae Fan Fiction #MCUfanfic #MCU fanfiction #mcu au #WandavisionAU #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver