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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

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All That Was Fair

Chapter 10: Near Misses

Work Summary: Jamie Fraser is hiking near some strange stones when he comes across an unconscious lass. Determined to help her, Jamie’s life is turned completely upside down as he takes her in. The only issue... she’s not human.

Chapter Summary: Claire and Jamie make one last surprise stop in Inverness.

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Chapter 10: Near Misses

***

“Here, put back on yer jacket, lass,” Jamie said to a shivering Claire, extricating it rather clumsily from the pile of clothes on his arm and handing it to her.

The puir lass still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the whole “weather” thing, and as the sun hid behind the clouds and the air grew cooler, she was beginning to tremble.

Claire took the jacket from him, her fingers brushing his in the process, and he found himself shivering as well— though not from cold.

They were almost back to where the car was parked. Jamie’s plan was to dump the awkward armful of loose clothes, but he was hoping that their outing wouldn’t end quite yet...

“I ken this has been quite the day for ye, a nighean,” Jamie began tentatively as he opened the trunk, “but I had one more thing in mind that I think ye might enjoy. Would ye like to see it or do ye want tae go home?”

Her arms were wrapped around herself as Jamie shoved everything into the trunk and closed it. When he looked up, she was nodding eagerly.

“I would love to.”

A broad smile spread over Jamie’s face. He wasn’t sure she’d say yes, quiet as she’d been since they left the store, but he was delighted by her enthusiasm and hoped she’d like their last stop.

Jamie locked the car with a beep before turning toward Claire again. Spotting her opened jacket, he muttered “ach, ye’ll freeze”, then stepped closer and reached out for the zipper.

She looked up at him with huge whisky eyes and he had no choice but to meet them. He hyper-aware of the proximity to her body as he drew the zipper up very slowly, each tooth coming together inch by inch. The moment seemed to drag on for eternity, but he didn’t want to let go. Once the zipper reached the top, Jamie’s hand lingered, just barely under her chin. He was so close to her that he could feel the puffs of her breath, and his whole body thrummed with the tension that sparked between them.

How easy it’d be to tug her just the tiniest bit closer and—

Claire’s chest rose under his fingers in a shaky inhale, and that was what broke him out of the trance.

Stepping away from her sharply, he shattered the moment of connection like a stone thrown into a placid pond. The forced distance between them tugged at his heart, but he retreated to a safe couple feet away— where his brain could work enough to keep him from acting on his inclinations.

He couldn’t have named the look on Claire’s face, but her usually expressive features seemed to fall into a carefully placed mask of neutrality. He gave her a smile in reassurance, hoping she wasn’t offended by his odd behavior, and offered her his hand. Touch was a comfort to her, and he wouldn’t dream of withholding that just because it turned his head and his heart into mush.

The moment she took it, he began to lead her in the direction of their last stop.

The Inverness Botanical Gardens were only a couple blocks away. As soon as they entered the gates, Claire’s eyes went wide with delight as she took in the expanse of colorful plants and flowers in bloom. She stopped walking abruptly, and simply stood in enrapturement, hand clutching Jamie’s even tighter.

“See. Humans arena sae bad,” he joked.

Either she didn’t hear him or didn’t care to respond, wrapped up in the scenery as she was.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed reverently.

To his surprise, she let go of his hand, walked a few steps over to the nearest bed of flowers, and promptly dropped to her knees. Jamie’s heart clenched in endearment as he watched his Sassenach reach out and caress the leaves of the various plants. She seemed to want to touch every one, torn between frenzy and delicacy as her hands moved everywhere.

He could have watched her enjoy herself like this for days, completely uncaring of the people passing them by who were likely giving them queer looks. But he only had eyes for Claire.

It struck him once again how fitting the name Sorcha was for her. She was truly becoming his light— brightening his whole world, his very existence. In comparison, his days before her seemed so empty. He felt oddly detached from that time before Claire, as if it was a different lifetime rather than several days ago.

If he was certain of anything, it was that he couldn’t go back to living that minute existence. Not when he knew the joy that was loving her.

Every time Jamie lost himself in such thoughts, he had to spend the next while talking himself off the ledge. This time was no different. As he watched Claire touch the plants (she’d moved on to the next bed by this point), he desperately tried to force his brain back to rationality.

Okay, so ye love her. There’s no helping that. But for Christ’s sake, lad, keep yerself together. Ye’re the one person she has in the world. Ye canna be making declarations of love, that isna fair to her.

It was the same words he told himself over and over.

Ye can be her friend. That’s enough.

But as he watched the awe and delight shining on her face that made his own brighten in answer, he felt like his heart was on his sleeve— on display for the whole world and aching with the yearning.

God, he burned for her.

He was shaken from his besottment by a worker approaching Claire. Protective instinct flaring, he took a few steps toward his faerie, meaning to put himself between them. The moment she noticed the young man beside her, she bolted to her feet, stumbling backward into Jamie.

“Sorry, didna mean to startle ye,” the young man said to her.

Jamie placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to still her and communicate that everything was alright. Sliding one hand down to her back, steadying, Jamie stepped up to her side.

The worker lifted his hand to scratch a little awkwardly at the back of his neck. “It’s just that I couldna help but notice yer enthusiasm. Are ye a botanist yerself then?”

Claire shot Jamie a look over, brows furrowed, and he quickly answered for her. “Nae, but it is a bit of a hobby for her.”

The lad gave a nod. “Oh, very good. Well, I hope you enjoy yer visit. Dinna forget to check out our greenhouse.”

Just as he was turning away to leave, Claire suddenly burst out, “This flower—” The young man turned around, following Claire’s point to a small patch of flowers, “the sobrach albannach…”

He looked a little confused, but simply said, “primula scotia, or Scottish primrose. What of it?”

“It’s getting too much water. It’s choking the life from the plant.”

The poor lad had no idea how to respond, completely taken aback. He stared at her open mouthed for a second, and then looked back at the plants, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he stooped down to inspect them even closer.

“Ye’re right,” he exclaimed in astonishment. He looked up at her with a smile spreading over his face, “thank ye.”

Claire beamed, looking incredibly proud of herself, and Jamie couldn’t help but swell a little as well.

“My pleasure. Do take care of them,” she said sweetly.

With that, she slipped her hand back into Jamie’s and they walked away, leaving the worker to his Scottish Primrose.

“How did you ken that?” Jamie asked once they were a fair distance away.

“I can feel it, can’t you?” Claire answered matter-of-factly. She looked up at him in question, and Jamie shook his head.

“We canna.”

Claire gave a shrug, not particularly bothered. “Plants are the lifeblood of this earth. You have to care for them, treat them with respect.”

That didn’t do much to answer Jamie’s questions, but he decided to let it go in favor of enjoying Claire’s company. They walked on for a while, Claire absorbed in the various flora. Since not all of it was native to Scotland, she would sometimes let out a squeal of excitement when discovering something new (though now she mostly stayed anchored to his side). It took the depths of Jamie’s botanical knowledge to try to provide her with insights about some of the ones with which she wasn’t familiar, but unfortunately that didn’t extend very far and the lass was left burning with curiosity.

Curiosity was not exclusive to her, though. Jamie had been burning with questions about the faerie ever since he’d met her, and only little-by-little did he come to discover more about her.

One unexpected incident brought an intriguing discovery.

While they walked hand in hand through the gardens, their pace a leisurely stroll, they passed by a family of what appeared to be tourists.

“Ven aquí*,” the mother (or at least that’s who Jamie assumed she was) shouted to her child, a little girl trailing a few feet behind with tears rolling down her face.

“M- me quedo aquí,” the child cried in hitching sobs of agitation. Obviously she was having a bit of a meltdown. Jamie was familiar with the woes of tantrums from his nieces and nephews, and tried to lead Claire away. But his Sassenach remained rooted to the spot.

“No tenemos tiempo para esto,” the mother shot back with exasperation in her weary tone as she waved a beckoning hand.

“No voy a salir,” the girl’s voice was almost a scream now, her parents and siblings getting farther away. It seemed the mother was going to play the “I’ll leave without you” card.

Claire’s eyes had gone wide and disturbed witnessing the exchange. She shot a look at Jamie, then back at the girl. To Jamie’s astonishment, she let go of his hand and walked straight up to the crying child.

Kneeling down, Claire gently asked, “¿Qué pasó, querida? ¿Por qué no quieres ir con tu familia?”

Jamie’s mouth dropped open. What the devil did she say?

His brain was still trying to process Claire’s perfect accent and apparent fluency in Spanish when the girl replied with a hitching, “Se me perdió mi flor.”

“¿Tu flor? Hay muchas flores aquí.” Claire responded gently.

“Sí, p-pero ésta fue especial, y se me perdió y ahora no puedo encontrarla,” the little girl sobbed as she clutched her chest, her words coming out in a jumbled rush.

“No te preocupes, podemos buscar juntas,” Claire replied in a soothing tone.

Jamie was trying desperately to keep up with the situation and wondering how the hell Claire knew Spanish. He had no idea what she’d said, but in the next second, Claire was taking the little girl’s hand and walking toward an offshoot of the path, still speaking back and forth.

Fearing a potential kidnapping scandal and not wanting to lose sight of his displaced faerie, Jamie scampered after her, calling, “Claire!”

She looked back at him, halting, and gave him a smile, as if oblivious to the fact that she was about to run off with a strange child in tow. Apparently sensing his worry, she explained, “it’s alright, Jamie. I’m just helping her find her flower so she can leave with her family.”

His rapid heart rate slowed exponentially. He was still struggling a little to grasp Claire’s apparent Spanish knowledge and wondering if somehow there were varieties of Hispanic fae that had ended up in Scotland, so he simply responded with a daft “oh.”

It was at that moment that Claire’s head swiveled to a spot just behind Jamie and she let out an exclamation. She dropped the girl’s hand and darted toward a nearby flower bed. Jamie turned to watch as— with practiced ease— she plucked a flower from the bush.

“Yo sé que no es la misma, pero esta flor es especial también. Es mi favorita. ¿Le gusta?”

Claire stretched the flower out toward the little girl in offering. There was silence for a moment, then a cry of delight. The little girl suddenly ran forward and launched herself right into Claire’s arms, scooping up the flower from her hand and wrapping Claire’s neck in a hug all at the same time. The faerie laughed happily, giving the girl a pat on the back.

With only a quick, “¡gracias!”, the girl was running after her family.

“De nada,” Claire called after her with a blinding smile that only Jamie was privy to. (He’d take it. He’d take all of her smiles and hold them dear in his heart, even if he wasn’t the recipient.)

Then— looking incredibly nonchalant— she straightened up, walked over to Jamie, and slipped her hand back into his.

Left slightly flabbergasted from the whole situation, Jamie stayed motionless in the spot, looking down at her.

Claire returned his gaze quizzically.

“You— you speak Spanish?” Jamie asked after recovering his tongue.

She nodded, casually, but didn’t expand.

“So you speak English, Gaelic, and Spanish... Do fae speak more languages?”

She looked at him with an indulgent smile, as if— of all the questions he’d asked her during their time together— this was the foolish one. “I speak hundreds of languages.”

He boggled at this, turning a little so he could look at her better.

“Human languages?”

“Of course! And others.”

“You astound me,” he breathed, “in- in the best way,” he hastily added. “Here I was thinkin’ I was impressive speakin’ Gaelic, English, and a wee bit of French.”

She smiled brightly. “You are impressive, Jamie. You know how to do so much— things I could never imagine...”

Jamie warmed all the way through at her praise, and gave her hand a slight squeeze.

Though he was still burning to know more, this wasn’t the place for a 101 course on faeries. He took her hand and continued walking, essentially putting an end to that conversation. The visitors of the park were gradually filtering out, providing nice privacy as they strolled along, but he still didn’t want to risk it. He had to bite his tongue to avoid asking things that might prove problematic should others overhear.

So they walked along, chatting about safer topics. Jamie tried to explain the purpose and function of a botanical garden, and Claire listened with rapt attention. As they strolled, though, she began to grow quiet. Claire drew closer to Jamie, her arm pressed against his, and no longer made moves to touch any of the plants they passed.

The sun was just starting to go down, illuminating the path with a soft, golden light. When he looked down at Claire, he could see it reflecting off her curls, highlighting streaks of varying shades of brown.

“Are ye tired, lass?” He asked after Claire had been particularly quiet for a bit.

She gave a slight bob of the chin, and at her nod, Jamie led them over to a park bench.

They sat down together, Claire pressing herself flush against his side. She wasn’t shivering— thank God— but she seemed particularly clingy.

“Thank you for today, Jamie,” she said softly, “I never could have done it without you. I… I actually had a great time.”

Contentment swelled through Jamie. “I’m glad, mo nighean donn. And dinna mention it, I’m jes’ glad I could be wi’ ye.”

“I mean it,” she looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest, “I don’t know where I’d be without you. Lost and alone…”

A shudder ran through her, and Jamie felt an answering one of his own creep up his spine at the thought of Claire by herself.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for me,” she finished.

“Ye dinna even ken….” he murmured, mostly to himself. He shook his head as his own thoughts overwhelmed him.

“What don’t I know?” she prompted, and Jamie realized that he’d actually said it out loud.

The way she was looking at him— those honey eyes soft and empathetic, making his wame twist into knots— he had to tell her the truth.

“I was alone before you. I had my family, of course— my sister and brother-in-law and their children. But I went home to an empty house every night. Went through my routine, slept in the dark alone, and then did it all again the next day. Oh, Claire,” his voice caught in his throat, “ye turned my life upside down in the best way. I didna ken how much I needed you until suddenly I’d found ye. And I canna even imagine life now without ye in it…”

His eyes were brimming with tears by the time he finished, and Sorcha was looking at him with the warmest expression. Almost… loving?

“You have me now,” she whispered. Her wee hand raised up to his face, softly brushing over his jaw in one grounding stroke.

But he didn’t. Lord help him for his greed, but he wanted her forever. As his own.

He looked down at her and her hand stilled on his face, but she made no move to withdraw it. Jamie was breathing raggedly, feeling a pull toward her that took all his willpower to resist. Her face was tilted up toward him— so damn close— and the air felt thick and heavy.

She never broke their locked gaze, just stared up at him warmly. Jamie knew his heart must be in his eyes. Surely she could see it?

He found himself drifting just the slightest bit closer, his face tilting down…

But he loved her too much to bridge the distance.

So he froze there, completely under her spell and happy to be there, yet heartbroken by all the things he couldn’t allow himself to have.

Claire seemed to notice the change in him, because she drew back a bit. She glanced down at her lap, then away from Jamie. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of pink gracing those high cheekbones.

But surely that couldn’t mean anything…

“It’s getting late,” he stated lamely.

That snapped her attention back to him. “Please, let’s stay a little longer,” she pleaded.

He could never say no to her.

So there they sat, pressed close together. Claire took his hand again as the silence spread between them like a warm blanket— not stifling or awkward, simply the comfort of togetherness. Her hand had been in his all day, yet somehow the electric shock he got when he made contact with her never diminished.

After a while, the sky began to show streaks of colors. The sun had fallen below the horizon, leaving a glow of pink and orange in its wake. From their vantage point on the bench, they could see the river, which reflected the colors in a brilliant display, like a second sky below. It couldn’t have been more perfect if Jamie had planned it himself.

Claire’s head tilted toward him, leaning closer and closer until finally it was nestled on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand gently as his wame did the familiar flip-flop, not wanting to break the stillness but wanting her to know he was glad of her touch. They cuddled on that bench long after the sunset faded and the street lights blinked on.

“Ye’ve had a long day,” Jamie murmured finally. He tilted his head down to look at her, and found her eyes were closed. “Let’s get ye home, lass.”

She raised her head from his shoulder with slow reluctance, blinking her eyes drowsily.

Oh God, he loved her.

“Ready to go, a nighean?” he asked her softly.

She sleepily hummed, but gave no other response. He chuckled at her fondly, a rumble deep in his chest, and tucked an errant curl behind Claire’s ear.

“Dinna fall asleep on me now,” he teased.

Her eyes fluttered open then and regarded him with a look of pure innocence. “I’m not sleeping.”

To prove herself, she got to her feet, but refused to let go of Jamie’s hand in the process. He followed her lead and stood up beside her. With that, he took her from the gardens and back out toward the car, his sweet lass occasionally swaying against him as they walked.

She seemed less drowsy by the time they made it to the parking lot, but the moment they were seated inside the car, she was draping herself over the cupholder and into his lap.

His heart clenched with reminiscence of three days ago when he’d found himself in this exact position. How terrified he’d been then, so excited but bewildered, already entranced by the sweet faerie. He’d been in way over his head then, but now— now he was positively drowning in the intoxication of her.

He never wanted to let her go.

***

(See AO3 for notes and translations)

#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae Claire

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

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Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part twenty four is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 6,800

“So...” Rowena managed to corner you in the kitchen. Proud as a peacock that she'd found yu seeking out tea. “How is it that a witch would come to be so...comfortable with the Winchesters?”

“I'm...a soft core witch,” You decided the term fit. She wasn't getting a full explanation. Despite your trust in the fact her motives were fear based, there was more enough craftiness bubbling beneath the surface to make you wary. “I haven't been alive for centuries. Gave me an edge.”

“You could be,” Her eyes twinkled all too bright as she pulled the herbs from your hands. A healthy sniff of the mix let he know what she was dealing with before she dropped it in. “I could teach you...if you'd like?”

“I don't want to live forever,” You brushed that off easily. Leaning against the marble counter. Away from her. “Appreciate the offer, though.”

“Then, what do you want to learn?” Rowena was nothing without allure. There were things she could teach. The trick she'd pulled earlier was a fine example.

“Why are ya so interested in handing out your tricks?” Your brow quirked, demanding an answer. “You don't even know me

“I tried to start my own coven before,” Another one of those overly emphasized sighs left her painted lips. “It didn't work out.” The confession wasn't much of a surprise. “I just wanted peers of my own. To teach up and coming witches what I know. As for that last bit, you have a...feel about you.” Her eyes narrowed, looking over you. Seeing far too deep for your comfort. “You're important, dearie.”

“Hardly.” Was your response. You'd helped Wendy and Donna. Aided in shaping Jack into the caring boy he'd become. While you were sure it was where you needed to be, you weren't nearly as vital as the two men you lived with. “I'm just a puzzle piece in a much bigger game.”

“Y/N,” She leaned in, “you're more than that. You're going to be the queen of the chess board.”

“Just what I wanted to see,” Dean's voice broke up the discussion. “Glinda being wooed by the Wicked Witch of the West.” He sagged against the doorway, jaw twitching under the lights. “Y/N, can I talk to you?”

“Oh, go ahead-”

“Alone,” The hunter cut off Rowena, earning an offended sniff. As soon as you were by his side, it began. “What's she pulling?” His hand was holding your bicep as he tugged you along behind him.

“Hell if I know,” You retorted with a snort. Throwing forward his own analogy, “Before I got anything worth value, the scarecrow interrupted.”

“So, you're a double agent, now?” He shoved open the door to your room, yanking you in behind him. Ensuring that you two were well and truly alone as he slammed the door shut.

“Can you please let me go?” As soon as you were secure, he did. Noting the way you flinched at his touch.

There was no angel to take away the aches and pains from the earlier fights- if you could call them that. At first, he'd assumed you were mad at him. Then, he saw the truth of it.

“You okay?” Suddenly, the alpha was worried. Taking in the stiffness in your movements as you sat down on your bed.

“Just sore,” The brush off wasn't good enough. He leaned down, lifting your shirt to see what the damage was. Bruising and scrapes lined it from his boots. You tried to pull away. To hide the evidence. “Dean, it's not a big deal-”

“It is,” His fingers traced over it, gently. Noting where it hurt the most based on the intake of your breath. “I'm sorry.”

“You were in love,” A shrug left you at that, pushing even harder to drop your shirt. That time, he let you. “It makes us all a little crazy. You're just a little...extra.” The teasing got you absolutely nowhere. His face remained pinched. Eyes zeroed in on your middle. As if he could see the damage.

“That...that wasn't love.” Dean's voice was soft, then. Almost nervous. Tilting your head in confusion, you silently prodded for him to go on. “It was something...but it wasn't love.”

Your heart fluttered at the words. Begging for it to be real that time. It took everything in you to ask what was on your mind.

“When you were...under...you didn't knock me out.” His head lowered, listening to you speak. Carefully choosing your words. “You didn't hurt me...not like you tried to Sam.”

“And you want to know why.” He finished the thought. Chewing at his bottom lip. His fingers tangled together as he anxiously started bouncing his knee. “I dunno...Probably the same reason why I wanted to rip that Marlon kid to shreds with my bare hands when he turned you.”

“Donna sped things up a bit,” Your lip twitched in pride. She was doing a little better. You kept in contact with her. Checked in with Jody to be sure. The hunter played a vital role in your humanity that night. It'd been the least you could do. “Probably for the best, that time.”

“Yeah, probably.” He agreed, nodding and pursing his lips. Then, he turned back to the matter at hand. “You...you, uh...you're kinda important around here.”

“For Jack-”

“Not just, Jack.” You hadn't even been able to finish. “I'm not very good at this.” His lips screwed to the side. “Hell, probably suck. But...it's not just Jack. Okay? Trust that.”

Stewing on his words, he turned his head away. Brows knocking together. So sure that he'd made a mistake.

“You're important, too.” The reply was soft, but he heard it. Your fingers moved up, tugging at the thin chain around his neck. “Guess this didn't work out so well, huh? We'll have to try something else.”

You went to lift it away, only to be stopped by a meaty grip, “No...No, I want to keep this one.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he shook his head. “It works just fine.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding there for a moment. “I'm going to find, Sam...Just...be careful with Rowena.” The answering nod was enough for him. He walked away, glancing back over his shoulder before he disappeared.

As he left, he thought back over everything he could remember from that morning. He saw your face softening when he talked about love. How you'd shifted instantly when you realized it was Jamie he was raving over.

The irrational urge to do whatever was necessary hadn't included trying to seriously harm you. In that moment, when he'd had you pinned? He'd almost come back. Nearly had shaken off the influence when he'd watched his hand wrap around your throat. The charm he carried had practically burned at his chest. Pulling him back to reality. His lips curled upwards a bit as he moved back to the library, whistling away...

–

“Welcome to Stillwater Oklahoma,” Sam announced as the Impala came to a halt.

“How depressingly midwestern,” Rowena grumbled, her wide rimmed sun glasses covering her eyes. The scenery was nothing to look at. The grass was dull from the chilled air. Even the sky was covered with grey rather than blue.

“Alright, Red, where to?” Dean turned around, looking at the witch in charge for the moment.

“The tracking spell isn't like GPS,” She pointed out, unhappily. You knew that pain. Location spells were only so helpful. “The book's not moving, and it's in the general area.” A sigh of resignation left her lips. “We'll need to talk to the yokles.”

“Okay,” He clearly wasn't thrilled with that news. “Well, small-town folks usually like to look out for themselves.” The older Winchester pointed out unwillingly.

“I can make them talk,” The arrogant answer curled up her lips. More than eager to speed up the process. You were positive it would be in a way you wouldn't dream of.

“Uh, your spells tend to boil people's brains,” Sam cut in, making your eyes widen a bit. She shrugged your way at that. Telling you it was no big deal in her mind. “So, maybe let us handle it?”

“Fine,” She gave in, that dramatic flare ever present. “Fine, we can do your very time consuming investi....” A snore left her lips as her head fell over. Rowena's way of saying that they were boring.

For all her trouble, you couldn't deny it. She was charming as hell. It'd be cute if she wasn't the literal mother of the past king of hell.

“Okay,” Dean spoke up to clarify. “See, 'we' aren't doing anything.” His hand pointed at the entire group. Making it clear she wasn't included.

“I'll keep an eye on her,” Sam volunteered. Just as a little safety net to ensure that you weren't overly tempted.

“Leave me with a babysitter if you must, but do start with the women.” She sighed out. Annoyed at the necessity of it. Then, she seemed to think for a moment. Tugged her glasses down to look at Dean, “Something tells me that they aren't popular with other ladies.” As you started to move, you were stopped. “Oh, but why can't Y/N stay with me?” Her arms wrapped around the one closest to her. Smiling brightly at you to try and schmooze her way into your heart. “You'll stay with me, won't you dear? These Winchesters are rather brutish, so it would be much better if-”

“Sam will take care of you,” You laughed, peeling her away. “We'll be back...you two...just talk.” The door was shut behind you, just in time to hear a dramatic huff.

“You act like you know a secret,” Dean leaned your way, bumping your shoulder with his as his hands tucked into his pocket. “Spill.”

“They both have some underlying trauma,” You shrugged out, knowing he'd know about that better than you. “I did a reading for Sam a while back.”

“I know,” Came the nod, surprising you. “Wasn't thrilled with the idea, but...”

“But, you didn't want to duke it out,” You finished for him. Moving towards the first building. “It wasn't anything bad. It was on what kind of healing still needs done. Everybody has something, and he wanted something personal.” A shrug followed that news. Blowing off what you'd offered to the younger brother. “Rowena isn't the only one hiding from what Lucifer did...maybe it'll do them both some good. To have someone who experienced...something to the same...intensity, to talk to.” At that, Dean paused, watching you move ahead.

He turned back to look at the car, frowning at the thought of Lucifer still haunting his little brother. Not that he was surprised. Sam had to keep reliving it every time the archangel came into play.

His lips tightened before he followed your movements. Wanting the angel to die, yet again. Maybe then the man he'd raised could feel some peace.

“It's a little freaky how you dig into people's minds, you know that?” He called out, extending his stride after you.

“I get that a lot,” You laughed, sending a grin his way as he caught up. “Keeps people on their toes.” A twist of his lips and a noise at the back of the throat was your only answer to that one.

“Hi there,” Dean called out towards a worker as you two entered the hardware store. Third time was the charm. The bell clanked over the top of the door as it shut. “Been to a few other places,” He stated, moving up to the counter. “Haven't had much luck. Was hoping you'd help me out.”

“Oh, happy to try,” The woman's smile was a little too bright. Earning a cough to hold back your laugh as she looked over Dean. You weren't even a blimp on her radar. Evidently her glasses were in full working order, as her eyes darted up and down. “What do you need?”

“I'm looking for these two girls in, uh, town.” He started out. Either too used to that kind of response or simply oblivious to what was happening. You elected to believe the first option. “Jennie and Jamie.”

Just the name made you want to curl your nose. Instead, you plastered a smile to your face as she glanced your way for the first time. Trying to understand what a woman would want to do with them.

“Oh,” The sour tone made your brows lift. Seems you'd run into a 'fan'. “The Plum sisters.”

“Right,” You spoke up. Noting the disappointment on her face. You understood the feeling a little too well. “Yeah, we're looking to track them down.”

“Hm...” Her brow lifted at that, letting you know that her mind had gone somewhere scandalous. Apparently their reputation held steady. “You and every other man west of the Ozarks.”

“Popular, huh?” Dean asked, prying out more information.

“That's one word for it,” The hostility was tangible in the air. You mentally reminded yourself to send this woman a little extra good will when all was said and done. “And a whole mess of trouble.”

The pointed look told Dean that he was better off avoiding them. Something you agreed with wholeheartedly. If you hadn't needed the book, there'd be no way in hell you'd have been in the small town.

“Well, they took something. And I need to get it back.” Was the hunter's way of trying to end that theory. It didn't work.

“Heard it before,” She cut off, rolling her eyes at the line. “They stole your heart, and you can't live without them.” The disgust was evident. She had no intentions of aiding that cause.

“They stole a book,” Your answer seemed to puzzle her. Her head tilted as she took you in for the first time.

“A book?” Dean hummed in confirmation.

She laughed, then, “Honey, now I know you're lying. I doubt they can even read.” Your own snicker landed with you getting your foot pressed on. Not hard enough to hurt, but the warning was there all the same.

“Well, that has been up for debate.” He acknowledged, looking your way. There wasn't an ounce of shame in the shrug you gave out. You'd made the same jab on the way over. “If it helps, I don't plan on being nice about it when we do find them.”

“And if he can't hold up to that, I will.” She looked into your eyes, taking in the hard edge you carried. Letting all of the anger you possessed show. That appeared to sell it. She seemed surprised, but she didn't argue. Pushing out some of the receipt paper so that she could write down the information.

“You gonna be really mean?” Women could carry an infinite amount of spite. This one was no different. Dean let out a small 'yeah' to give her a little extra satisfaction. “Cause it's about damn time someone was.” The note was passed over.

“Thank you,” The woman leaned against the counter, sending appreciative eyes back over Dean. Suddenly more attracted at the thought of him being out to get her enemies.

“You're welcome,” She murmured as he walked away. She placed her body over the counter to watch his ass. You followed her gaze, not blaming her in the slightest. “You hold onto that one,” She told you, letting out a little sigh of want.

“I'll keep that in mind,” You nodded her way, thanking her again before moving after him. Snickering all the way.

As you two approached the car, Rowena was getting out. Sam following behind, calling after her. “I'm not fleeing,” She told him, moving away. “Don't release the hounds!”

“Hey,” Dean asked, looking between the two. “What's going on?”

“Uh, she,” Sam motioned towards the witch, swallowing a bit as he talked. “Uh, she just needs a minute. She's alright.”

“Alright, well, I got the address.” He confirmed, nodding towards you. Giving credit where it was due. “With a little help.”

“Rowena was right,” You finished for him. Noting the way it seemed to perk her interest. She moved towards you all, then. Suddenly back in her usual spirits.

“These girls are not fan favorites,” Dean chuckled pulling out the paper. It was the biggest understatement of the day. Not that you could blame any of them.

“Right,” Came the excited Scottish agreement. “Time to get that book!”

“Oh, no.” The older Winchester cut her off. “No, you've done your bit, okay?” He motioned between the people he deemed fit for the job. “We'll take it from here.”

“Dean-”

Your protest was cut off, “No.”

“Y/N,” She cooed towards you, pleased as could be. “I appreciate what you're trying to do, but they aren't going to change their minds.” Another one of those long, loud sighs left her. “Be a dear and keep me company for a moment? While they plot and...well, whatever it is these two do.” That earned a glare. Before Dean could protest, you were pulled away. A bag was tugged from her pocket; dropped to the ground as she urged you forward, “Manete!”

“What did you-” You turned back to see the men staring in disbelief as they tried to move their feet. They didn't budge.

“It means 'remain' in Latin,” She stated proudly. Glancing back over her shoulder as Sam yelled out her name, flailing his arms a bit as he struggled. The bag out of reach. “They won't be going anywhere. Now...do you join them? Or do you help me make these girls pay?”

“Y/N!” Dean bellowed out, making your eyes meet his. The warning clear.

“This isn't going to fix the damage you've already done,” You began, noting the way her eyes widened a bit at that. She turned to the younger brother, having heard almost the same thing earlier. “But, fine. I'll go along with it.”

“Don't you go with her,” The older brother roared, leaning forward to try and grab at you. Nearly falling to his face in the process.

Sam braced himself on the car. Stretching towards the bag. Dean tried to jump, his feet glued to the cement. Both men even more bent on getting free as they realized what you were about to choose. You mouthed a sorry over your shoulder as you started after the witch. Listening to the alphas shout in fury all the while.

It wasn't a far walk. Six blocks at most. The witch hadn't even needed GPS.

“Are they arguing over tin foil?” You whispered towards Rowena at the door. Catching something about the aluminum being mentioned. She simply shrugged, before pushing open the wood silently. Not even creating a creak.

“Okay, so you don't think it said anything.” One of the sisters demanded, becoming more clear as you ghosted into the room. Shutting the door quietly behind you. It was Jamie. The 'lover' from earlier.

“I told you,” The other retaliated heatedly. “There's all kinds of weird writing. I was totally honest about that.”

It took everything in you not to snicker. The cashier had been right. They couldn't read the book.

“Maybe there's something wrong with his soul.” Someone had been sacrificed for whatever spell they'd been attempting. Rowena set down her bag as she started leading the way forward. “Maybe he was, like, a really bad guy or something.”

“Come on.” The one who couldn't read the book dismissed the idea. Jennie. “He was obviously a total boy scout.”

A loud sigh was released at that, “I don't think that even matters.” Rowena peaked in through the door, past the body that rested in the chair.

“We need to do something.”

“I'm looking!”

Pages flipped loudly. The black grimoire taking abuse at the hands of new age witches. Rowena motioned for you to wait, then, and be quiet.

“You were supposed to get the book and wait for me,” She sounded darkly, approaching the doorway.

At one point, you might have been surprised. However, by that stage, you weren't. She was too wily to be trusted completely. There'd been too many coincidences.

“I...uh...” One of the sisters stumbled over her words.

“Okay,” The other spoke up. “Like, the Winchesters were all over us, and-”

“And we didn't wanna call you.” The obstinate one finished. Jamie. She set down whatever she was holding. “Because we can take care of ourselves.”

For a woman, she sounded more like a teenager than you'd imagined possible. Another strike against the girl. A deep breath left you as you struggled to remain in place.

“I told you about the book,” Old witches were far more formidable than either sister expected, you were sure. “Where to look for the boys. We had a deal.” The anger in her tone couldn't be denied. “Now, I've had to use them to find you.”

“You brought them here?” Jamie hissed out, unaware that you rested behind the wood. Reaching around behind you to pick up the item even Rowena hadn't known you carried.

“When you nincompoops ran, I did what I had to do.” She replied heatedly. You weren't her only pupil, as it were. “But, I can still complete the spell. We can still complete our deal.”

“You'd still help us?” The sister asked: Jennie.

“As long as you give me the book when we're done.” Your mind wandered to the brothers. Curious to see how long it took them to break free. “You don't need it, anyway. Witches of your level would-”

“Witches of our level?” Considerable offense had been made at that statement.

“Yes.” Rowena didn't butcher her words.

“Are you saying what our mom taught us wasn't good enough?” The tension in the room rose. Thick enough that you almost made your move. But, it wasn't time. Not yet.

“Shit,” The mutter left you when the floor creaked by you. A figure approaching was enough to make you duck down.

She looked like a zombie. All rotted and stiff as she moved. Internally, you wished Jack was present. Knowing he'd love the walking dead scene in front of you.

“Jennie, I think what she's saying is that we're not good enough.”

“You think you're so smart, huh?” The voice was filled with annoyance. “Well, we already did the spell...mostly.”

“Mostly?” You heard when Rowena saw the woman appear. Small hissing leaving the cadavers' body. “What have you done?”

“It's like...step one of bringing her back.” You crept forward, slowly. Just as Dean had taught you. Careful to keep the pressure on your feet angled just right to ensure not a sound escaped.

“We'll figure out the rest when she kills you,” Jamie stated easily.

“Unfortunate,” Rowena sounded solid. “But, not my first zombie, love.” She jerked her hand through the air, “Abi!”

“Oh, the side effect of the spell?” Dean's former 'love' spoke eagerly when nothing happened. “She's, like, magic proof!” The hissing woman lunged, then.

“And she's totally gonna eat your brain!” Jennie called out as Rowena bolted.

She locked herself in the first room she found as the zombie beat on the door. Next to the sisters. You cocked back the hammer, preparing yourself for what was going to happen.

–

“Needed a minute, huh?” Dean looked down at Sam, nostrils flaring in unconstrained rage.

“You don't have to say it, Dean,” Sam grunted, stretching his arm out as far as he could. So close to the item they needed.

“Oh, I'm gonna say it.” He continued, standing tall and proud while his brother attempted some kinda of yoga looking grasp that fell short. “She played you.”

“She played us,” Small stones dug into the palms of his hands. Still attempting to end the hex placed on him. “And she's scared.”

“Yeah, well she better be.” Dean bit out. Narrowing his eyes. “Especially if Y/N gets hurt.” When Sam's hand fell short, again, he sighed. “Come on. You're like eight feet tall. You can't reach that?”

His fingers just brushed over the black bag with purple thread, “I almost got it.” His fingers extended until he was sure all of the joints were popping out of socket in his body. Finally, the edges managed to be gripped between two just enough to tug it closer. Another roll had it within grip. He grunted, standing up proudly as Dean opened up his lighter.

“Alright,” He took the offending bag with ease, and set it afire. Immediately, their feet were free to move. “Alright, let's go kill some witches.” As the flame burnt, he tossed the damaged bag at Sam's feet, who was still breathing as if he'd run a marathon, “You want that?”

A bitch face was his only answer. Without another word, they got into the Impala. Prepared to go save the day.

“It's just a magical zombie,” Rowena sang to herself. Bracing against the door. “You've dealt with worse than magical zombies before, Rowena.” The wood splintered as the hand came through. “Clearly you wanted your mom back in better shape,” She hissed out, searching through the objects at her disposal. “I can still do that.”

“Nah, you missed your chance to play nice.” One of the blonde ditzes stated easily.

“She never had it,” You grumbled, understanding your role, then, as another weak zombie crack was made. You were her back up plan. It was almost genius, really.

With a grunt, you rounded the corner. Taking aim and firing a single shot. All in the span of a second. The skull of the dead woman flung forward, slamming into the door along with pieces of coagulated blood and brain. You weren't the best shot. Too far left to place a perfect bulls-eye, but the damage was done deep enough to get the desired result.

“Mom!” The broken cries echoed as they rushed over to the cadaver. No signs of life. You cocked back the hammer, taking aim once again.

“Why you-”

“Uh, uh, uh, girls,” Rowena was back in charge, realizing that the danger had passed. The broken door pushed open. “That isn't in your...best interest.” As they moved to attack, her hands raised. Casting the spell that would end it all. “Impetus Bestiarum!”

“Y/N!” Dean's voice echoed through the house. “Rowena!”

“In here,” You yelled out. Calling them forward before the spell could take full effect.

“End it.” Rowena instructed the bound women.

Slowly, the sisters got to their feet. Blood began to ooze from their eyes. Slowly staining their cheeks.

They squared off. Before either men could say a word, knives were lifted and they attacked. Screams and grunts filled the air as they stabbed blindly at each other. Hitting any open area that they could. Feral jabs and high pitched wails escaping. It was over in seconds. The fight too brutal to be survived for long.

The guns were dropped as Dean turned your way, “You okay?”

“Been better.” With that, you rushed over to the trash can. Emptying your stomach. Retching without abandon.

“Ah, hell.” Dean's long stride had him over to you in seconds. Brushing his hand over your back as he waited for you to get through.

“What happened?” Sam demanded, turning to Rowena. Letting his brother give you the care you needed.

“She saved me,” The woman purred out, batting her eyes innocently. “We make a hell of a team.” She looked over your way as you wiped your mouth, stammering to your feet. “Or, we will once she gets over that. Does that happen with every kill, dear?”

“First kill,” You bit out, spitting away the taste in your mouth. Anger taking over. “I know why you did it,” Your gun lifted again, this time facing her. “I just want to ensure it doesn't happen again.”

“Did what?” The younger Winchester turned your way in confusion.

“I'll tell you later,” You glanced his way. Never taking your peripheral vision from Rowena. “In case this wasn't very clear, they're witch killing bullets. So, I'd agree pretty damn fast.”

“Agreed,” Her lips lifted a bit instead of retaliating. She didn't flinch, simply looked over you. Impressed. “I think I do like you. Even if you do act more like a hunter than a proper witch. It's the company you keep, I'm sure.”

“That isn't quite good enough,” The hammer cocked back. Staring stonily at her. “I want it spelled out.”

“Fine,” Rowena stretched the word out dramatically. “I won't pull anymore nasty tricks against the boys to get the book.” Her hand waved dismissively. “You saved my life. It's the least I can promise.” She had stressed the book bit, but it was the best you were going to get. The gun was dropped. “Now, then, back to what I came for.” She made her way over to the table, lifting her precious novel as if nothing had happened.

“As underhanded as she is, I still kinda like her,” You turned to Dean. Passing over the weapon. “Long story short? She double crossed you.” With that, you waltzed out of the room for some air. To clear your lungs of the smell of decay and fresh blood.

“What just happened?” Dean turned to Sam, tucking his weapon into the back of his waistband.

“I...I have no idea.” He answered seriously, looking at all of the carnage around him. “But, I'm pretty sure that they just saved us a fight.”

“We did.” Rowena confirmed. Pleased as could be. “And, I'm afraid she was wrong. I triple crossed you, actually. So, I ended up on your side. We defeated the villains. Just as I planned.” Sam's eyes squinted at the nonchalant confession.

“Yeah,” Sam leered over her. Using his much larger height to his advantage. “Not buying that.”

“And that book?” Dean spoke up as Sam tugged on the pages. Making Rowena yank it towards her. “You're going to give it to us, or we're can take it, either way.” Sam gripped it tighter, only to have her pull back more desperately.

“You know what I've seen,” She whispered fervently towards him. “You know what it's like. Lucifer may be locked away, but he'll be back.” Fear shined bright in her eyes. Begging for him to understand. “He always comes back...and when he does... I can't be helpless again. I need the spell.” Sam tugged the grimoire into his hands without a word. Giving her his answer. With that, she walked away, head down. “Your boys are cruel,” She huffed out, falling down on the porch step beside you.

“Must not be,” You breathed out. Lifting your head from your hands. “You're still alive.” Her lips tugged up for a moment before falling back down. “What you did...I get it. You're scared...But, I'm on their team, Rowena. That isn't gonna change.”

“You're loyal.” She nodded, sighing in defeat. “It's not a bad thing, ya know. For all of their blundering ways, they're good enough men.” The words held the bit of a grudge that kicked your own smile. “I'm still willing to teach you a thing or two.”

“I'm not gonna lie...I'm curious, but...I'm not on the same level,” Your reference to the earlier discussion made her chuckle.

Being a witch to you wasn't about power. It was about connection, over all. You were more than content to keep it that way.

“No? Perhaps next time, then.” She patted your knee before standing. Preparing to go on her way.

“Rowena,” Sam called out, making both of your heads turn. “Wait.” The ripped out page rested in his hand. “If he comes back...make it hurt.”

“This...” The witch took the page in disbelief. Reading over it once. Then a second time to be sure. “Thank you.” She smiled softly, hugging the spell to her chest. Leaving with her shot at safety.

“Dean know what you're doing?” You asked, looking up at the tall man.

“He thinks I'm checking on you.” Sam gazed down, raising a brow to silently ask if you were going to snitch. You simply nodded in approval before shrugging it off. It wasn't your secret to tell. “Gotta clean up in there.”

“Alright,” With a resigned sigh, you got to your feet. “Let's get this over with.”

It was somehow worse than the actual kill. Having to push the spilled innards back into the corpses. Wrapping them all up. Only to burn them all in the woods after bleaching everything in sight.

The bunker was a relief after all was said and done. The three of you naturally drawn to the kitchen. In dire need of a drink. Only, you took yours to your own room.

“Can't believe I fell for a love spell,” Dean grumbled, twisting the cap off of his beer and setting it beside him. “And that Y/N saved Rowena.”

“And killed the Zombie mom.” Sam pointed out, moving to sit on the metal island in the kitchen. “Those are details that sell the story.”

“Oh, yeah,” The cranky tone only made the younger brother laugh. “Yeah, getting out played by a bunch of girls. That's a story I wanna tell someone.”

“Girls beat us all the time,” The truth couldn't be denied. When you looked at a score card, the numbers did rack up.

“True,” Dean acknowledged after taking a healthy gulp. Sounding incredibly bitter, none the less. “Hey, you know that Rowena is not our friend, right?” The entire conversation switched in a moment.

“Yeah, I know that.” The older man wasn't impressed with that answer.

“Hm,” The beer slid away. Grimoire that rested in front of him was opened. A ripped page stood out like a beacon. His finger tapped against the torn edge. “Then, what's that?” Sam looked down in guilt. “You gave her the page. She got in your head man.”

“She didn't get in my head,” Sam protested.

“Look, what happened to Rowena was messed up, okay?” He agreed, lifting his hand as he talked. “But, you just let the deadliest witch in the world walk away with a page from this book.”

“Yeah,” The answer made Dean pause. “And, if Rowena breaks bad,” Sam slid down from his rest. Beer forgotten. “I will hunt her down, myself, and put a bullet in her.” The older brother didn't look like he bought it. “I will, Dean. But, if she's right, and if she does see Lucifer again? Then...I hope she makes him suffer.” Sam smiled at the thought. Hoped she'd be able to do what he wished he could.

It took a minute, but finally Dean came up with a response, “You gotta get out of this dark place. You know, whatever is going on in your head...”

“Dean-”

“What?” He wanted to understand. He really did. But, he couldn't if Sam wouldn't talk to him.

The little brother inhaled deeply, “You know what? Honestly?”

“Yeah, how about honestly?”

“I know what Rowena is dealing with. And she's not the only one who...feels helpless.”

In that moment, Dean did understand. You'd been right. They had talked about Lucifer. At least on some level.

“What do you mean?” His question was soft. Nudging for clarification so that he could comprehend exactly what he needed to.

“I mean,” Sam started, avoiding the green gaze. “I had a plan, you know? I, uh...” He stammered, trying to put what he was feeling into words. “Help Jack. Um, bring mom back. It wasn't much, but it was something. It...it kept me from spinning off the rails. A...and now...Jack is gone. Mom is still in hell, basically...a...and I...I...I just...”

“We'll figure it out,” Dean looked up at his brother. His tone gentle in a way that surprised Sam.

“Dean, we don't have a plan.” He countered, not understanding how the older sibling could seem so calm about everything. He'd been off the rails before, when they'd had more to go on. “We don't know what to do...So...So, how?”

The answer was brutally honest, “I don't know.” Sam turned up to the sky for a moment, before shifting away. Not believing it. “But, we will. You, me, and Y/N.”

“Yeah...” That wasn't quite good enough. “Night.” With that, Sam left. Beer in tow.

A sigh left Dean as he tapped the book closed. He rubbed over his head. Looked back at the way Sam had gone.

The beer was finished before he got to his feet. Book was returned back to the drawer it had belonged inside. As he stood tall, the sound of your footsteps caught his attention, “You holding up okay?”

“Better than I thought I'd be,” You answered honestly, holding your small blanket around your shoulders. “Just hunting down a new book.”

“It's there if you want it.” He pointed to the black grimoire's resting place. The bait fell short. “Earlier...you went off with Rowena...why?” He was done beating around the bush. Waiting for the answer he wanted to hear.

“Because it was the best shot of getting that book back here,” The reply settled in the air between you to. “Do you want an apology? 'Cause I'm not sorry.” Defensively, you stared into his eyes. “If I hadn't, you two could have been hurt, at the least. Rowena, for all of her difficulties, could be useful. So, I couldn't let her die. I'm just...I'm not sorry.”

“What'd ya think I felt, thinkin' you could've been hurt?” He snapped, then, making you step backwards. He didn't stop, stalking you like prey. “It sure as hell wasn't relief. I couldn't have saved you if it'd gone wrong.”

“It's not like you have to worry about being mated, anymore.” You shot back. Dean had managed to corner you. Your lower spine pressed against the table as you stared up at him. “If anything would've happened, you would've been fine.”

“Fine?” A step forward had his chest brushing against yours. Looking every bit the alpha that he was. “What part of you're important, don't you get?”

“Important doesn't mean that the world stops if something happens,” The answer was soft as you turned your head away. Airing out every thought you'd ever had on the matter. “You'd move on, Dean. The world relies on you. You have to find Jack and your mom. That's the important thing, right now.” As if that wasn't good enough, you kept going. “Besides, this is what you've been training me for. What's the big deal?”

“You're an idiot,” He bit out, reaching up to cup your neck. Forcing you to look up. “You're the only thing keepin' my head straight since we lost Jack... If I lost you? I'd be done.” His nostrils flared as his green eyes stared into yours. Realizing what you had made him admit.

With that, his hand dropped as if he'd been burned. The hunter stalked away. Shaking his head all the while. Muttering under his breath.

“Dean...” The blanket was forgotten when he disappeared towards his room. Falling to the table you were leaned against. Having needed that extra minute to process his words. With your shoulders set, you took off after him. “Dean, wait!”

“There's nothing else to say, Y/N.” He bit out without looking back. “Just let it go.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, making him spin around. Before he could say another word, you grabbed onto his shirt to steady yourself. Slamming your lips into his.

It took him a moment to respond. His hands moved up, cradling your face gently as you softened against him. Mouth moving slowly against yours. Savoring the touch.

“So? Don't talk,” You whispered when you pulled back. Letting your forehead rest against his. “That's all I wanted.”

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy} 2

2. well that was many years ago, how would you see me now I've grown up (given up my video games)

Summary: When you’re fifteen, and your former babysitter’s on TV in one of the UK’s most successful soap operas, and is still decidedly hot, all you can remember is the advice he’d given you, and how he’d let you win when playing videogames.

A/N: 2780 words. ben’s not in this one persay, but we gotta set up y/n as this badass actress, ya know? y/n’s mother is mentioned but that’s it in terms of family. also i dub thee a theater kid. congratulations.

the mutant brotherhood: @daisy-lu @hervoidparadise @nedmjpeter @ultrunning @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @clementimee @that-fandom-sucks-tho @cjand10 @rest-is-detail @baileymae @rosesvioletshardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @hazelstyles94 @bitchylittleredhead @bihemian-rhapsody @sweatyexpertgardenpanda @whereeverythingisbetter @dedxbed @xxencagedxx @glittrixvibe @a-girl-with-stress @sunflower-ben @pxroxide-prinxcesss @mrsmazzello @cubedtriangle @haileymorelikestupid @misscharlottelee @nevilles-insinuations @jovialcreatorkidtoad @brianmaysclog @sambuckywarrior @hey-yo-bedussey @bubblyanis @lifesciencesbois @elektraofcrete @diosanaz @bbdoyouloveme @kirstansworld @okilover02 @cardboardbenmazzello @dreashappyworld @juliarose21 @simonedk @greycuby @emmasunshiine @dinotje @qtrogerina @spiketacus @nympha-door-a @local-troubled-writer @emphatic-af @wh0a-thisisheavy @lustgardn @banginashton

When you’re fifteen, you have your first kiss on stage with a boy named Andrew; he’s a year older than you, has been in more shows than you, and has a boyfriend, Jamie, though they both seem entirely endeared by you. You buy each other flowers on opening night, after becoming fast friends in rehearsals.

It’s your first lead role on stage, though you’ve been in a few commercials in past year, and had callbacks for a bit part in two different TV shows that ended up going to someone else. Since expressing interest in pursuing acting as a career, your parents had been nothing but supportive, their only stipulation that you still need to finish high school. So between school and auditions and rehearsals, you don’t have much time for crushes; sure there’s a boy in the ensemble, who you’re pretty sure is named Ashton, with fluffy blonde hair, and eyes that look green at the right angle, but he also lives off of Monster energy drink. He may be pretty, but he’s got the personality of a damp rock.

But he’s not your first kiss, Andrew is.

“You know Ashton’s got three braincells in total, right?” Andrew’s laying on the floor of your dressing room, makeup done, costume half on, watching in the mirror as you apply your foundation, “what do you see in him?”

“Him-” you started, but Andrew groaned loudly.

“Himbos need to respect women, Y/N, Ashton is not a himbo,” though at his exasperation, you can’t help but be amused.

“He’s pretty,” is all you can manage in your own defence, wearing a sheepish little smile, and Andrew wrinkles his nose. His phone goes off and he checks the message.

“Jamie’s almost here,” he told you with a slight smile, and you two share a fond smile. Jamie comes baring iced drinks and you both praise him as your lord and saviour.

“Do you think Ashton’s cute?” Andrew asks as he’s eating the whipped cream from the top of his iced coffee.

“Is this a test?” Jamie replies, wearing the slightest frown, but Andrew shakes his head.

“Y/N thinks he’s cute, even though he’s always three beats behind -”

“Whether or not he can dance doesn’t effect how he looks!” You argued, and Andrew raised his nose in the air defiantly.

“It does to me,” but then he’s grinning, turning to gaze to Jamie, who’s deliberating and swirling his peach iced tea with a faintly fond smile.

“The blonde one playing the jock?”

“That’s him,” Andrew confirms, and Jamie hums.

“He looks like acid wash jeans.”

A confused silence follows.

“What does that mean?” You frown, but as Andrew considers it, he comes to agree, “okay, but do you think he’s cute?”

“He’s perfectly conventionally attractive,” Jamie finally settles on, “but not my type.” And he gives Andrew a coy smile, knocking their shoulders together, they’re painfully endearing, but Jamie’s brought up a thought that you hadn’t wanted to consider.

When had your type become pretty, blonde boys?

Your answer comes less than three days later, on closing night, your mother’s watching TV before she drives you to the theatre. It’s Eastenders, a soap opera you know from your mother’s fanaticism with it, aware only of it’s longevity and it’s sometimes outlandish moments.

“Y/N, come in here a moment,” you mother calls, “they’ve recast Peter.”

“You know I don’t know who that is,” you tell her with gentle exasperation, but obligingly join her in the living room.

“What was the name of your old babysitter?” You mother’s squinting at the screen, watching a pretty blonde boy you think you recognise talking to a girl who you’re pretty sure is one of the leads.

“Maddy?”

“No, the boy who helped out when Maddy wasn’t available,” and you follow your mother’s gaze to the television, heart beating in your throat as you realise why she’s asking.

“Ben -?” You say, as if you haven’t committed his name to your memory.

“Ben!” She announces with a clap, getting to her feet with enthusiasm, “doesn’t the new Peter look remarkably like him?” She asked, getting as close to the TV as possible, looking a little eerie in it’s glow.

“I think that is him,” you say, throat going dry, and your mother goes quiet.

“No,” she says softly with a frown, “you think so? Really?” And you’re already pulling out your phone and checking IMDB.

“Ben Hardy,” you confirmed with a nod, trying not to let it show how much this information had left you shaken.

“But -” your mother turns to you, “he’s Keith and Ange’s kid; Hardy? That’s not...?”

“I dunno, mum, maybe he changed his name, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same person.”

“He was always such a lovely kid,” she mused, “you used to love spending time with him,” she sighed wistfully, and you contemplate how long it would take you to just walk to the theater, which you’d much prefer to having to listen to your mother waxing poetic about how successful your first crush had become. But you decide it’s not worth it, and thankfully she doesn’t mention it much in the car.

“Andy I’m in distress,” you bemoan your costar the moment you step into hair and makeup that night. Andrew struggles not to smile as the makeup assistant is applying his contour.

“What’s wrong?” He asks after she steps back, and you spin in your chair to face him while the head of the makeup team was collecting everything she’d need for your look.

“I know why I like Ashton,” you admitted, and Andrew raised an eyebrow in silent question. The makeup assistant paused, giving a playful ‘ooh’ to the announcement. As the leads, the pair of you had been called early to make sure you were all ready for the show before the rush of ensemble members were getting into hair and makeup, so you were the only two cast members around, and felt safe discussing this so openly. The crew were old enough to know not to gossip with the cast.

“So it turns out my type is just this one dude who used to babysit me back when I was like, twelve,” you grumble, and turn back to face the mirror at the makeup artist’s insistence.

“And what made you realize this?” Andrew prompted diligently.

“Because I saw him on TV,” you sighed, closing your eyes as your makeup routine began. But there was silence all around, and someone cleared their throat awkwardly.

“Like on the news?” The makeup assistant asked tentatively.

“No, like on Eastenders,” you sighed; they weren’t quite sure if you were joking or not, “he went to my high school, graduated like two years ago.”

“Seriously?!” Andrew marveled, and you confirmed with a heavy sigh, “so why are you distressed?”

“Because I was perfectly happy forgetting about my stupid, twelve-year-old crush on him, but now he’s on my mum’s favourite soap,” and you groaned in defeat, “which I’m now probably going to get invested in; it’s like a celebrity crush but worse.” You paused, “Andy, he let me win at videogames and gave me acting advice; I still think about him sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Andrew agreed, “I don’t usually know my celebrity crushes personally,” it was clear he was both trying to be supportive, and trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“It’s going to kill me,” you said with an air of resignation.

“What’s his name?”

“Ben Hardy,” there was a pause after your words, and the telltale noise of typing on a phone, and then Andrew made a noise of approval.

“He’s mad fit.”

“I know,” you agreed with a whine, to which your costar snorted a laugh.

“You’ll be okay, I promise,” he assured, and clicked his phone off, settling back in his chair as his hat for the show was brought over and pinned in place, “and I can see why you fancy Ashton now.”

“Ashton doesn’t hold a candle to Ben- damn you Eastenders!” You moaned, playing up your distress for the amusement of the others in the room, which you appreciated, but it’s all you said on the topic for the night, though it barely leaves your mind when you’re not on stage.

At the afterparty, you learn that Ashton kisses with too much tongue, and tastes like grape vape, but he compliments your performance in the show and in the moment, that’s all you really care about. It’s a thoroughly underwhelming experience all in all, but it also manages to feel something like a cathartic release.

You come to a realization, several days later, that you’d never thought you’d have; it’s incredibly difficult to watch Eastenders online, legally or illegally it doesn’t matter, because the legal site costs money which you don’t want to spend, and no-one’s put up the entire series illegally. You can find episodes here and there, but they are one-offs from anywhere between 2005 and now, and no-one’s got the newest episodes anyways.

There’s barely an Eastenders fandom online, a thought you’d never imagine having before now, and so you just end up watching it nightly with you mother, when you can. Except as life gets busier and you’re rehearsing for plays and musicals and eventually, shows, and eventually you’re studying for your GSCEs, and you don’t have time for a soap opera you’re only partially invested in.

You get your big break in the Summer before your A-levels when you score a part in Snowpiercer, so you spend several weeks in Prague, and you’re sharing scenes with Captain Fucking America Chris Evans, and Jamie Bell, and Octavia Spencer –

Oh, you realize faintly as you’re getting your makeup done for the day, I’m becoming someone.

You’re at a critical juncture in your life, in your career, one you’re afraid you haven’t earned your way to, especially not so fast. You have two options; step on the breaks and let someone else get the roles and the life you want, or you can commit to the bit, to the life and reputation you’re building for yourself.

Fall back or follow through.

Snowpiercer earns you the title of One to Watch, and by late 2014, you’re halfway through your final school year, you’ve studios asking you to audition left and right. In the brief Winter break between terms, you’re called in to audition for a project for Sony, but they couldn’t tell you which. You knew it was a superhero movie, but that’s all.

A month later, only a few days into 2015, you wake up to three missed calls from your agent, thousands of Twitter notifications, approximately twenty texts from your friends. Downstairs, your mother was making breakfast and humming along to the radio, which she only did when she was in a fantastic mood.

It takes all your self control to not look at social media, and instead call your agent back.

He’s got two words for you.

“X-Men Apocalypse.”

You scream.

Next, of course, comes Twitter, which is a mix of supportive and unsurprisingly derisive. Your casting is polarizing, mainly because you haven’t been in a lot of films, and a majority of your work had been in theater; you look the part, but people are skeptical of your talent.

Speaking of the part, you’ll be playing Cassidy Temple, also known as Riot Control, who it turns out is a villain. Not the main villain, they’ve got Oscar Isaac playing Apocalypse himself, and holy shit, you’re going to be working with Oscar Isaac, but apparently you’re the second of the Horsemen to be announced.

Riot Control was a villain from an arc of the same name back in the late 90s, though she’d appeared earlier in Apocalypse’s first comic arc under the name Crowd Control, most notable for being the original Pestilence Horseman, who had a relationship with Archangel, the then-Horseman of Death. After Apocalypse’s death, she retained the power he’d imbued her with, and went on to be the first mutant to fuse with a symbiote, Riot, which is how she’d earned the name Riot Control, and ended up killing Havok; it took the whole X-Men team to take her down, and only then thanks to Jean Grey.

You’d never considered yourself playing a villain, but you couldn’t help but be a little thrilled at the prospect. Looking at images of Cassidy, you can’t help but be a little shocked as to how much she looked like you, right down to the shape of her eyes; the resemblance was uncanny.

At least ten of the twenty texts you’d received from your friends were from Jamie and Andrew, cheering for you and already planning a party. A few friends from school were asking if the announcement was really about you, followed by a ton of excited emojis, and Merissa had left the sweetest voice message, telling you how proud she was of you.

This was big. This was talking with your mother about dropping out of school right before your A-levels, this was talking with Sony about hiring a tutor so you could finish your schooling on-set, this was updating your passport and visa and realizing you’re not just a little kid, playing pretend on stage anymore.

Over the next few days, you’re in meetings with your agent and executives from Sony and Marvel, signing contracts, and attending the kind of blow out party Jamie and Andrew had planned.

“Don’t forget us when you’re all famous,” Jamie, a little tipsy and sentimental, clings to you in the early hours of the morning during the party as it’s winding down, and you’re both half-watching X-Men Origins: Wolverine in the living room of his and Andrew’s little flat.

“I won’t,” you assure him, hugging him tightly back, “I promise.” And he makes a hum of contentment, before announcing that the movie was stupid. It was, but you kind of liked it.

“Jam, don’t hog her!” Merissa announced from the door, and Jamie stuck his tongue out at her; it was a small blessing that your friends from your varying friend groups had managed to get along so well. Merissa crowded you from the other side, squeezing beside you on the sofa and leaning against you, her nose against your cheek.

“I’m gonna miss you guys,” you say into the warm silence of the early hours, and Merissa kisses your cheek in an unspoken ‘we’re gonna miss you too’.

“Nah,” Jamie mused, “you’ll be off partying with your cool famous costar friends –“

“You gotta tell me what it’s like to hang out with Sansa Stark!” Merissa enthused, and your heart leapt into your throat.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, as if it were common knowledge, “they announced Sophie Turner was going to be playing a young Phoenix right around the time they announced you,” he paused, frowning, “did you not –“

“I read it, but I never… I didn’t put two and two together.” You admitted, and the news has you reeling.

A few moments later, Andrew comes in from the kitchen to remind Jamie that he has work in the morning, and Jamie tells him that he’ll only go to bed if Andrew takes his place hugging you until the movie’s over. Andrew’s smile widens.

“I think I can manage that,” he agrees, and Jamie stands with a yawn, giving Andrew a kiss before instructing him to not let go. You settle in between Andrew and Merissa, and once the movie’s over, Merissa’s asleep on your shoulder, and Andrew murmurs that he can drive you home if you want. The sun’s almost coming up.

“Can you put on Days of Future Past again?” You ask quietly, sheepish and hopeful in equal measure, and Andrew agrees, and gets you a glass of water, and a blanket. When prompted, Merissa wakes enough so that she can shift on the surprisingly spacious sofa, happy enough to cuddle against you when Andrew tucks the blanket around you both.

“Can’t wait until I’m putting on your DVD –“

“I gave you a copy of Snowpiercer,” you told him, and his expression goes soft.

“True,” he agrees, “but I’ve got a good feeling about this next one,” and you think you know what he means. This is big.

“You’re gonna do great, Y/N, you always do.”

Just over a month later, after your contract had been finalized and you were sent the most up-to-date version of the script, you awoke again to a ton of Twitter notifications, and a single text from Andrew.

The text simply read [👀👀👀] and had a link to a Variety article entitled ‘Ben Hardy joins the cast of Apocalypse’.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #queen #borhap #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody cast imagine #xmen apocalypse #xma #the angry lizard writes

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Forever: I Don’t Like Bullies

Intro: Emmy encounters someone from her past, and is left shaken after they threaten her. Steve and Bucky decided to pay them a little visit…

Warnings: Some violence, a slightly dark Steve and Bucky…some bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Had this one in my head for a while, finally got round to penning it down. Hope you enjoy.

SSF Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

August 2024

“Again!” Jamie giggled, splashing his way over to Steve who laughed and waited for Jamie to reach him.

“Ok ,one…two…three…” hooking his hands under Jamie’s armpits he gently launched him into the air and the 4 year old laughed hysterically before he hit the water with a splash in the deeper end of the pool before emerging, from the surface.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack…” Katie sighed from where she was sat on the steps to the pool, submerged to her shoulders. Rori was suspended in the little inflatable baby support, her legs kicking out behind her as Katie gently pushed her away then pulled her back, the baby smiling and thrashing with her arms.

“He’s fine ain’t you son?” Steve asked as Jamie doggie paddled over to him, grinning.

“It’s like flying Momma!”

“Hmmm.” she said, as Jamie jumped on his dad’s back and he pulled at Steve’s neck. Steve, playing along threw himself backwards taking them both under the surface before he stood up, shaking his head like a dog as Jamie’s laugh hit his ears.

“You’re getting strong pal.” he said, turning his head over his shoulder so he could look at Jamie. Jamie grinned.

“How’s my little water baby doing?” Steve asked as he carried Jamie on his back to where his wife and daughter were, Jamie scrabbling out of the pool and heading to the lounger for a drink.

“She’s fine.” Katie smiled, as Steve turned his attention to Aurora, a huge grin on his face as she looked at him and beamed, waving her legs and arms as fast as she could.

“Look at you princess!” he said as Katie pulled her back towards them. He dropped down so his shoulders were under the water and Rori was at eye level. “Think she’s enjoying it.”

Katie smiled as the two of them watched the baby for a moment before Katie looked up at Jamie who was sat now with Lucky between his legs, gently talking to the dog. “Do you know what time it is?”

Steve glanced at his watch “Almost 4.”

“I should really think about starting dinner.”

“Leave it….” he said, turning to her, pressing his lips to hers. “Come on, when was the last time we got an afternoon like this?”

She smiled, “Feels like a while that’s for sure…”

“So…we can chuck a frozen pizza in for Jamie and we can get a take-out…” he said, moving so he was behind her, his arms curling around her waist, pulling her back so she was perched on his bent legs, his chin resting on her shoulder “Eat by the pool…” he placed a kiss to the crook of her neck, “And then later when he’s in bed and she’s settled we can hit the hot-tub…” another kiss “maybe a bottle of wine…”

“You feeling amorous Soldier?” Katie grinned, tipping her head round to face him.

“Always when you’re concerned…” he winked, his lips again meeting hers, only this time the kiss slightly deeper until they broke apart after a loud splash, followed by a smaller splash drew their attention.

Jamie had launched himself back into the pool, followed by Lucky who had clearly decided he too needed to get in the action.

They stayed in the water for another 15 minutes or so until Rori started to get a bit grouchy, and Katie took her out, wrapping them both in a towel and sitting in the quiet for a while to feed her. Steve and Jamie followed her out a little while later, both drying themselves off before Steve took Jamie inside to get him a juice box and throw his pizza in the oven. Jamie then insisted he wouldn’t make it until his pizza was done as he as starving, so Steve got him quick snack of breadsticks and hummus and sent him back out onto the garden where he made his way over to the side of the pool, flopping down on the lounger next to his Momma.

Deciding that a snack was actually a pretty good idea really, Steve grabbed a few things from the fridge, namely olives, more breadsticks, dips, cheeses and was about to carry it down to the pool area when the security system sounded to tell him that Emmy had come home.

“It’s ok…you’re ok…” his ears picked up Brooke’s voice from the hall and instantly he frowned as he heard Emmy’s deep breathing too. He strode into the hallway just in time to see Emmy slide down to the floor, her back pressed to the door as she tugged her knees to her chest.

“Emmy?” Steve asked, quickly dropping down in front of her. “Hey…look at me…”

She looked up and he gently reached out, his hand smoothing back her hair “Use your numbers ok, like we used too, remember?”

She gripped his hand tight and her eyes screwed shut as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing and Steve, not once taking his eyes off his daughter issued Brooke with an instruction to go and get Katie. Less than 2 minutes later she was also on her knees next to Emmy having left Brooke to watch the younger two and it was a minute or so later before the 16 year old began to breathe normally, her eyes slowly blinking as they returned to their usual size instead of being blown wide open.

“You ok?” Katie asked gently, looking at Emmy. She nodded.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t…” Steve looked at her as she fell into his arms, pressing her face against his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head “Don’t every apologise for that, we told you.” The amount of panic attacks their daughter had had when she first came to live with them meant they’d been fairly used to them, but she hadn’t had one in a VERY long time, not since the events of the Final battle with Thanos had hit her and she’d broken down about losing her Uncle Tony, Auntie Nat and then how close she had to losing her parents. Emmy was a strong, independent teenager who for the most part simply got on with things, letting a lot of stuff that would bother other people wash right over her head. But clearly something had triggered her today.

“You need a drink sweetheart?” Katie asked and Emmy nodded.

“Ok. Think you can stand?” Steve asked.

“You’re not carrying me.” Emmy looked at Steve and he raised an eyebrow.

“You used to love me doing that.” Steve quipped and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah at the Parties at the Kids home.” she grumbled “I’m not 7 anymore.”

“Never too old for your Pa to carry you.” Steve teased, standing up and offering him her hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, and despite her protestations at her age she kept her fingers tightly wound around his as they headed to the kitchen.

“Emmy!” Jamie shot off his seat and threw himself at his older sister. She smiled and bent to give him a hug.

“Hey Jay…” she smiled, “You been swimming?”

“Daddy was throwing me.” he grinned. “I bet he could do it for you too.”

“Sure he could” Emmy smiled as she shakily took a seat, glancing at Rori who was in Brooke’s arms, her little hands tangling in the girl’s long, red hair.

“Jamie, why don’t you go in the den for a moment, watch some TV.” Katie looked at him, adjusting the crochet slip she had thrown on over her bathing suit “Momma and Daddy need to talk to Emmy for a second.”

“But I don’t wanna.” he frowned.

“Hey, why don’t you show me your legos?” Brooke said quickly. Steve could see the cogs in his son’s head whirring as he considered this for a second before he nodded.

“Ok.”

“Thanks Brooke.” Katie said to her as she handed Rori back over.

“No problem Mrs R.” she said, allowing Jamie to tug her by the hand out of the room.

Once they were gone Katie adjusted Rori in her arms so that her head was tucked against her shoulder, mouth resting on her collar bone and Steve took a seat next to Emmy after pouring her a glass of water.

“Wanna tell us what happened Em?” he asked gently.

“We’d just been in The Hub.” she said, “You know the Computer shop because Brooke needed a new charger for her tablet.” Emmy swallowed and took a sip of her drink “We were walking down towards the bus stop so we could head home and we’d just passed that bar on the corner, you know the Irish Pub place?”

“Mc Mahons, yeah we know it…” Steve nodded

“And then he came out.”

“Who?” Katie asked, her eyes not leaving her daughter.

“Him…my old foster father. The one that used to hit me.”

Steve took a deep breath and breathed out through his nose “Did he hurt you?”

“No, not really…he erm, he didn’t recognise me at first and I kept walking but Brook had stopped and when she shouted my name he realised it was me and he grabbed my arm and…”

“Ok…ok…” Katie said gently, as Steve gently laid a hand on their daughter’s shoulder.

“Did he do anything else?” he asked. Emmy shook her head.

“He just started shouting stuff, saying he knew that I’d landed on my feet and that I was nothing but a worthless brat and that he would come and pay you a visit one day, tell you all about what I used to do and how bad I was and then you’d throw me out and…”

“Em, he’s an ass hole.” Katie said gently “You were never a bad kid. You’d been treated appallingly, what that man did do you…” she shook her head “It was cruel and abusive and…”

Steve’s hand fell to Katie’s knee under the table as she looked away, blinking back the tears.

“Emmy, me and your mom love you.” Steve looked at her, “We love all you kids more than anything, and nothing this dick says or does will change the way we feel. You know that right?” “I know, I just didn’t like seeing him that’s all.” she said gently “I just had all these flashbacks to the basement he locked me in and the belt…”

She swallowed and looked down. Steve looked at Katie, the jaw in his nerve twitching with anger as he took a deep breath and ran his hand up Emmy’s back.

“Well I hope he makes good on his promise and does pay us a visit.” he said his eyes flashing “I’d be very happy to exchange a few words with him, maybe a few fists too.”

Emmy smiled softly as Katie shook her head.

“Pretty sure your Uncle Buck would have a something to say too. And between you and me, his Murder Strut is frightening.” “Murder Strut?” Emmy looked up, the corners of her mouth twitching. Katie nodded.

“Trust me, I saw it a few times. Scared the shit out of me.”

“Woah, you saying I’m not scary?” Steve scoffed, folding his arms.

“Bucky’s a Rottweiler, you’re more of an angry retriever.” Katie shrugged and at that point Emmy laughed, which was exactly what her parents had been hoping to achieve. Steve flashed a wink at his wife before he turned back to Emmy.

“You know he won’t ever hurt you again, not now you’re with us.”

“I know. I love you guys.” she smiled and Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. She looked up, wiped her eyes and then glanced at her mom. “Can Brooke stay tonight?”

“Course she can, I'll call Jen”

“It's ok she can message…”

“I'll call her.” Katie said firmly, “Brooke was there today so Jen has a right to know what happened. Don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” “Kay…” Emmy nodded “What's for dinner?”

“Your dad threw a pizza in for Jamie, we're gonna get take out and hang by the pool.” Katie said.

“Anything you fancy?” Steve asked.

“Can we try the Greek place?”

“Sure.” Steve nodded “Hey, do they do Shwarma?”

“Gyros.” Katie said, “Same thing almost.”

“I’m in.” Steve said.

“I'm gonna go watch TV for a bit, that ok?”

“Course.” Katie smiled.

Emmy stood up and moved behind her dad, hugging him from behind, her arms round his shoulders. He tilted his head so she could kiss his cheek before she moved to do the same to her mom, giving Rori a peck.

“Love you both.” she smiled at them, before she left the room.

As soon as she was gone Steve stood up, his calm demeanour ebbing away as Katie looked up at him, shaking her head.

“I wanna kill him Steve.”

“You and me both doll.” he paced.

“Think we should call the police?” Katie asked, gently rocking Rori to and fro as she had started to grumble.

Steve contemplated what she had said before he paused, folded his arms and looked at the door, then back to Katie “I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“You know I do”

“Then leave it with me.” he said simply

“Steve...” she stated, instantly understanding what he was implying “You can’t.” “Why not?”

“Well, for starters we have no idea where he lives.”

Steve snorted "Sweetheart, you're forgetting who we know."

"Oh, no...you can't drag Sam into this." Katie shook her head "Ross is being an asshole with him as it is without you giving him ammo by getting Sammy into trouble."

"I'm not" Steve smiled, raising his eyebrow “I'm gonna drag Bucky into it instead."

****** Bucky sat at the bar, baseball cap tugged down over his eyes. He’d been reliably informed his target drank in this run-down back dive every Wednesday and Thursday evening. He liked the happy hour, apparently.

Aint gonna be happy for much longer, buddy.

Despite the fact that he was trying to live a normal life now (ok, maybe helping Sam out every now and then) when Steve had asked him to help him with this particular mission he’d immediately said yes. Not simply because Steve was his best friend, but because it involved Emmy. As far as Buck was concerned, the Rogers kids might as well be his own in that respect because he’d give his life to protect any of them.

And then there was Brooke. Bucky had been dating Brooke’s mom, Jennifer now for a few weeks after they’d hit it off at Steve’s birthday party. It was great, slow moving but that’s what he wanted, and when he’d heard that her daughter had been caught up in all this business as well, it was another reason for him to slip back into his old assassin mode.

Only this time his instructions were clear. Apprehend alive.

At first when Steve had told him this he had been about to tease him, wind him up, surely after all these years the Captain had finally found that trigger to flip him over to the dark side, but then he had seen something stir in his best pal’s eyes. He’d told him then about an incident in a HYDRA base, where he had killed on of Katie’s captors and Bucky knew, it was there alright, and he had a feeling he was going to see it whenever they caught this punk.

He ordered another drink, his eyes re-reading the paper he’d brought with him for the 15th time. To most people stake-out work like this would get them bored, antsy, but not Bucky. He’d waited much longer before and he knew that if you got like that you lost concentration which made things 100 times harder in the long run. His eyes scanned back to the entrance to the bar, flicking back round the pub, and he observed the people to make sure he hadn’t missed the man sneaking in, even though he knew that was basically impossible. Satisfied he hadn’t, he took the drink off the bar tender, paid him (another rule of spy work- never set up tabs, you run without paying and your face is recognised all over the damned scene). He took a sip of his beer before he heard the door open and he looked round, fighting the smirk on his face as finally his target walked in and straight to the bar to Bucky’s right.

The man ordered his drink, a straight black label whiskey and when it was served he paid with a bunch of crumpled ones and picked the glass up, heading to a table.

Bucky had to hand it to the guy, in the half an hour he spent in the bar he knocked back a good 5 helpings of scotch before he stood up, and rather unsteadily made his way to the door. Giving him enough time to get out of the door, Bucky then rose and followed him. He tailed him into another bar, then another, before after the 3rd the man headed home.

Bucky watched him unlock the door to the rundown apartment block, before he staggered inside. Quick as a flash Bucky shot over the road, sticking his foot in the door to stop it from shutting. Slipping inside he pressed himself up against the dark wall, just to the side of the post boxes, as the man turned around. After a second or so Bucky heard him heading up the stairs. He walked to the bottom of the steps, and keeping his footsteps light he headed after him and emerged onto the second landing, peering round the wall to watch as the man stopped outside a door, pulling out his keys.

Bucky waited until the door was closed before he headed back down to the ground floor, pulling out his phone.

“I got him.”

***** Steve climbed out of his car, looking up at the ramshackle building before he crossed the road. Bucky was waiting for him and opened the door to the apartment block from the inside.

“What you come dressed as?” Bucky arched an eyebrow, scanning Steve up and down. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a dark navy t-shirt and black boots, with a cap pulled down over his face.

“You.” Steve said simply, and Bucky snorted.

“He’s on the Second floor.” he said simply “Number 202. Still think you should just let me shoot him.”

“No.” Steve said “We’re not killing him…”

Bucky rolled his eyes “Why?”

“Because I want him as scared as he made Emmy.” Steve said simply. “He can spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.”

Bucky shrugged, “Your call…”

Steve headed to the stairs and started to climb them, stopping as he heard his foot crunch on something.

“Nice place…” he mumbled as he looked down to see he had stood on a cockroach.

“Don’t be a snob Stevie…” Bucky looked at him, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Even my place in the 40s wasn’t this grim.” he turned to look at his friend before he continued up the flight of steps.

“It wasn’t the ritz either.” Bucky shrugged as they emerged onto the landing. They stopped outside the door and Steve took a breath before he looked at Bucky.

“Looks like we need a key….” he quipped. Bucky gave a smirk, before he drew his left hand back and punched straight through the door, grabbing the handle and turning it to undo the lock from the inside. He threw it open and strode inside, Steve casting a look around before he followed and pulled the door shut behind them. Hearing the noise the man flew out of the kitchen, a knife in his hand, stopping dead when he saw Bucky.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

Bucky simply raised his eyebrows.

“Look, if Mario sent you…I told him, he’ll get his money…”

“I don’t know any Mario…” Bucky shook his head, “Well, not unless you count the one that rides on the karts in that game my nephew enjoys kicking my ass at. Now put the knife down Jack before someone gets hurt.”

“How do you know my name?” Jack asked, his eyes not once leaving Bucky, missing the Captain who was stood in the darkness of the room behind him. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I don’t want anything…” Bucky said, shrugging, “But he does…”

At that point Steve stepped forwards, drawing up besides his friend, getting a good look at the man in front of him. He was quite tall, but lanky, with a pointed noise and sharp features, reminding Steve of an overgrown rat. Which fitted him perfectly, out and out vermin. Jack frowned and squinted slightly as he looked straight at Steve, suddenly paling even further. Whilst Steve looked a lot different from the once blue-eyed All American hero the world recognised him to be, there was no mistaking who he was, especially to the man in question. Steve stood stock still, his hands falling to the buckle which was round the waist of his black jeans, his chest flexing under his navy t-shirt as he glared at the man.

“Woah…look…I don’t want any trouble…” Jack began to press.

“You should have thought about that before you touched and threatened my daughter.” Steve’s voice was icy.

Jack’s hand clenched around the knife and Bucky rolled his eyes, before he whipped off the glove on his left hand, holding it up, the metal glinting in the dim light of the lamp that stood in the corner of the grubby apartment.

“This can do far more damage than that blade can.” he said simply, looking at his hand before he turned to Jack “Go ahead, I’ll even give you one free swing. But it better be fast.”

Steve expected the man to drop the knife, but instead he lunged forwards. Bucky sighed, and almost lazily dodged to the right before he knocked the knife out of the man’s hand with a single swipe and gripped him around the neck with his hand, slamming him hard into the wall.

“That was really fucking stupid.” he said, tightening his fingers around the man’s windpipe, lifting him off the floor. The man grabbed at Bucky’s arm, desperately trying to prise his fingers from around his neck.

“Buck…” Steve said, and Bucky let go, Jack slumping to the floor. Steve reached down, grabbed his shirt and hauled him to his feet slamming him against the wall.

“Now…” Steve said, his hands tightening. “I don’t like bullies. And that’s what you are. I know exactly what you did to Emmy, all the times you beat her, hurt her, whipped her with a belt until her back split and bled. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip you in half right now.”

“Captain America…nah…you wouldn’t…” Jack stuttered, shaking his head “You’re a good guy…”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Bucky said, picking up the knife that Jack had dropped, leaning on the wall, lazily twirling the blade in his hand. “He’s not Captain America anymore. Just some guy whose daughter you threatened.”

“Which makes me a hundred times more dangerous…” Steve said.

“And I, well, I just don’t give a shit.” Bucky shrugged “Killed a lot of people one way or another…what’s one more piece of shit like you gonna mean?”

Jack looked at Steve, shaking his head “No, you wouldn’t…”

“I snapped the neck of the man who raped my wife.” Steve said, his gaze not once leaving the man’s in front of him “Trust me, you have no idea what I would do to keep my family safe.”

He paused for a second, letting it sink in as Jack swallowed.

“But I’m a fair man.” Steve said, letting go of Jack who dropped a few inches before he pulled himself back up full height. Steve smoothed down the man’s dirty t-shirt before he smiled at him. “So I’m gonna give you a chance to play ball. You got 48 hours to leave New York.” “By that we mean the state.” Bucky clarified.

“And if I ever get a sniff that you’re back in town…” Steve continued.

“And trust us, we’ll know…” Bucky mused, still looking at the knife before he grinned at Jack “We got friends in high places, eyes and ears everywhere…” “….then you’ll lose more than your teeth.” Steve concluded, matter of factly.

“My teeth? What do-“

CRACK.

Steve cut him off with a sharp jab straight into his mouth and Jack dropped to the floor howling in pain as the blood poured from between his fingers which clamped over the lower part of his face.

“Got the message?” Steve asked, standing over him as Jack rolled around, screaming. He mumbled something, his head nodding furiously.

“Can I shoot him now?” Bucky asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Just once in the knee?”

“No.” Steve snorted “Come on…let’s get out of here, the amount of noise he’s making someone’s bound to hear. He turned to go, and then heard another loud scream. Spinning around he saw that Jack’s hand was now pinned to the floor by the knife Bucky had been holding.

“What?” Bucky asked, shrugging as Steve shot him a look “You said I couldn’t shoot him, didn’t say anything about stabbing him.”

***** The two friends sat at a bar, not far from Steve’s house, each with a beer in hand.

“So, run that by me again…” Bucky said.

“I told Katie I was meeting you for a drink.” Steve shrugged, nodding at the bottle “Technically now I’m not lying.”

“You’re a punk.” Bucky snorted.

“She’ll know full well where I’ve been.” Steve shrugged “She ain’t stupid…”

“Good luck to you pal.” Bucky said, taking a drink “She’s scary when she’s angry.”

Steve snorted “Nah, she won’t be mad...she knew full well I was planning on giving him a warning so…”

“Then why not just tell her?” “Because she’d worry.” Steve said simply.

“Think he’ll heed it?” Bucky asked after a little pause and Steve pondered the question for a moment before he nodded.

“Like I said he’s a bully.” he took a swig of his beer before he looked at Bucky “You know as well as I do that the minute someone bigger stands up to them they back off.”

“Gotta hand it to you pal…” Bucky said, sitting back “You come a long way since you were defending yourself with a trash can lid behind the movie theatre down town…”

“So everyone says.” Steve shrugged “Still don’t feel any different.”

“Remember when Howard’s flying car was the strangest thing we had ever seen?” Bucky sighed “I almost miss those days.” “Would you go back?” Steve asked, “Given the chance?”

Bucky took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose “Nah, I’m too different…too much has happened you know. I don’t think I’d settle. Plus this would probably attract a little more attention than it does now.” he said, flexing his left hand.

Steve smiled “I know what you mean. If you’d asked me when I first came round…I’d have jumped at the chance but after Katie…” he took another drink before he let out a soft huff. “I crossed oceans of time to find her.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Dracula…romantic.” he said and Steve let out a laugh.

“Speaking of romantic…” Steve looked at his friend “How’s it going with Jen?”

“Ok.”

“Just ok?”

“I’m taking it slow.” Bucky shrugged “We’ve been on a few dates and…yeah I like her Steve and she likes me so…”

“Well if you ever want any advice on modern day dating…”

“The day I ask you for dating advice is the day I quit.” Bucky snorted

“I did ok.” Steve grinned “Well, more than ok actually. I lucked out.”

“No, you got what you deserved.” Bucky shook his head “A woman that loves you for who you are, not what you are.” Steve felt his cheeks flush a little as he shrugged “Not quite sure what I did to deserve her but…”

“You’re a good man.” Bucky said “You always were and always have been. A pain in my ass like, but…” he drained his beer and shook his head “Anyway, enough sentimental crap. You want another?”

Steve contemplated that before he shrugged “Sure, why not?”

One more turned into 5 more, and it was a good 2 hours later and approaching midnight when the men left. It wasn’t the first time they’d been out for drinks since being re-united, but to Steve it was the first time that it felt like the old days. They’d talked about so many memories, he’d laughed until he had cried as they both recalled some of their antics, and he felt completely at peace when he walked into the hallway of his house.

Removing his cap he ran a hand through his hair before he hung it on the coat rack on the wall. Then he dropped his keys into that infernal golden pineapple bowl that Katie had bought him all those years ago and headed into the lounge where Katie was sat in her pyjamas, Rori clutched to her breast as she fed.

“Hey…” he smiled, crossing the floor and dropping a kiss to her lips before he turned his attention to his daughter, his finger gently running along her hardworking cheek.

“You have a good time?” she asked, giving a little yawn.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It was nice. When did she wake up?”

“About half an hour ago.” Katie shrugged “With a bit of luck she’ll go down again soon and sleep for a couple of hours.”

“I’ll do the next feed.” Steve said “You can get some rest.”

“Ok.” Katie agreed, yawning again and as she did so Rori mimicked her, her eyes which were now carrying a slight greenish hue fluttering. Steve gestured for Katie to hand her over, and she did so as Steve held her up over her shoulder, hands that had hours ago been so violent were now ever so gentle, rubbing his daughter’s back to wind her as Katie adjusted her top. They sat there in silence for a little while before Katie finally spoke.

“So how badly did you hurt him?”

“What?”

“Jack?” She turned her head to Steve who looked at her “I know full well what you were up to.”

“I knew you would.” Steve huffed a laugh “And not too badly. Knocked a few of his teeth out…oh, and Bucky nailed his hand to the floor with a knife. He won’t be bothering Emmy again, or any of us for that matter.”

Katie looked at him for a moment before Rori gave a light burp and Steve gently turned his face, pressing his lips to the baby’s head.

“Here…” Katie said, and Steve handed her over “I’ll go put her down.”

She gathered the baby in her arms before she dropped a kiss to Steve’s mouth “Don’t be too long…”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Well, you know what you getting all dark and protective does to me…” she grinned, looking down at Rori “That’s what made her in the first place.”

Steve’s eyes darkened at the memory of that particular day in the HYDRA base which he was recalling for the second time in the space of a few hours, albeit for very different reasons. “How could I forget?”

Standing up she walked to the door, Steve watching her go, before she shot him a coy look over her shoulder his pants became a lot tighter than they should have been. He gave a soft groan, before his head fell back against the cushion of the sofa. After a moment or two he stood up and turned off the lights, before heading up the stairs after his wife.

He stood in the doorway, watching as she placed Rori in the crib at the end of the bed before he strode over to her, his hands falling to her waist as he spun her round, his lips crashing to hers. She took the kiss eagerly, her tongue sliding against his as he backed her towards the bed, her hands fumbling with his belt as they went. Neither were wasting any time, and after a quick wrestle with their clothing they both collapsed onto the bed, Steve caging his wife underneath him with his arms and legs.

Their eyes locked for a second before he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her again, slow and hard, both his hands cupping her face, thumbs gently skating her cheeks as she let out a soft groan and he felt his cock twitch. His lips not once leaving hers his right hand gently slid down to her thigh, and his fingers gently gave her hip a squeeze causing her to sigh into his mouth again. Using his hand he hooked her leg round his waist, and ground his erection against her spot causing her to moan as she pulled away from the kiss, her head laying further back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth dropped, swirling softly around her pebbled nipples, carefully lavishing affection on them in turn, and in moments she was quivering to his touch, her breathing ragged.

“Look at me…” he said, voice low, almost a growl and her eyes sprang open obediently, those sparkling emeralds glinting in the dim light as he held her gaze as he pushed into her, her breath catching in her throat. He stilled for a moment, enjoying her warmth as it gripped him before he moved his hips back, thrusting into her again. His pace was hard, deep and he continually dragged in and out of her, dropping his head to kiss and lick and suck all along her collar bone, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

"Fuck." he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements and Katie’s hands moved to brace herself against the headboard, her body moving with every slam he made into her. One hand moved to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“I love you…” he said, his pace not slowing in the slightest.

“Love you too Soldier…” her words stuttered as he thrust up hard, stilling slightly, grinding up against her, as she writhed underneath him, a desperate, filthy noise escaping her mouth as her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. God he loved the feel of her doing that, the stinging pain mixed with the pleasure was a heady mix and he took in a sharp breath, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came, her entire body trembling underneath him and he pulled back so he could watch her, lips swollen from his desperate kisses, cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttering against her cheeks. He continued his pace, her eyes opening moments late to lock onto his as the spring that had been coiled so tightly suddenly released and he spilled himself insider her with a low, rough grunt of her name and he tipped forwards, his hips slowing to a stop as he buried his face in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, Steve’s body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing. Eventually he raised his head gently and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers. She smiled at him, and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss before he rolled over onto his back, and she snuggled into him, her head on his chest. He reached for her left hand which was laying flat against his abs and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, just underneath where her wedding band sat.

“I love you, I love you all so much.” he said gently. She raised her head to look at him, smiling as she kissed him softly.

“I know, I love you. We all do.”

She was asleep before him, Steve lay awake for a little while longer contemplating everything that had gone down that evening. He’d crossed that line again, the darkness that had awoken all those years ago had bubbled inside of him and he wasn’t going to lie, it had been satisfying, and despite what he had said to Bucky, he would have happily killed the snivelling bastard with his bare hands and not even blinked twice about doing so. But something had stopped him short this time, and he knew now what it was.

His kids.

Back then they hadn’t been in the picture, and he wanted to be able to look them in the eye and tell them right from wrong without feeling like a hypocrite. Steve Rogers was a good man, a loyal husband, doting father, and he wanted to be worthy of the love that surrounded him on a daily basis.

He looked down at his sleeping wife before he shifted slightly, dropping a kiss to her head before he closed his eyes and fell into a trouble free sleep.

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #katie stark #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #stark spangled forever

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nev3rfound · 4 years

Text

two sides : p.p

brief summary: peter can’t help but find himself nosing into your life as both himself and spiderman. and for a while, it’s alright until he develops feelings for you, but you seem more interested in spiderman than peter parker

word count: 4.7k (i know, i went off a bit on this one) requested: not by anyone. i’m kinda just writing a few things and seeing how they go for myself currently warnings: not many, some swears and mention of assault (but nothing explicitly described) - oh and both peter and reader are around 18/19

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

masterlistin’

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In all the years Peter has lived with his Aunt May, he was no stranger to the sounds he heard throughout the building. Various people came and left, leaving behind their stories that were spread around like wildfires. But out of all of the neighbours he’s had, Peter can’t help but be intrigued by the girl at the end of the corridor.

Jolting him awake, Peter listens as a door slams with aggression and rises to his feet.

“Aunt May?” He calls out from his room, but with no response, he walks out to find his Aunt nowhere in sight.

With his senses heightened, he finds himself looking out from his front door and down the hallway. Despite having lived in the same apartment for years, he barely knew who his neighbours were. No one in Queens was exactly jumping at the opportunity to be social, especially with neighbours who tend to just complain or make uncomfortable small talk.

But Peter can’t help but tune in to the sound of someone crying. He steps out from his apartment further, following the sound down the corridor until he’s stood outside 3F. The apartment is located at the end of the corridor, right by the slim window that’s been sealed shut ever since Peter can remember.

“I told you to fuck off okay!” A voice yells from inside of the apartment as Peter remains frozen on the spot, hearing footsteps nearing him he tries to turn around and walk away, but sadly he’s too late.

The door opens as Peter has his back turned, but he can hear a quiet sniffle. “You spyin’ on me?” The same voice speaks up, trying to disguise their upset.

Peter mentally swears to himself before turning around, facing you for the first time properly.

To you, Peter is just a neighbour you’ve never really spoken to before. But to Peter, you’re the girl from the library he always sees. The girl who walks home in the dark with earphones on and tights that always seem to have holes or ladders. You always seem so upbeat, a smile on your face whenever you greet the librarian before finding a spot to hide away and bury your eyes into a book.

Yet the girl before Peter isn’t you, at least, not the version he’s used to seeing.

Black stains your cheeks as your nose continues to run, but you quickly wipe it roughly with the hem of your sleeve. He can see you’re shaking, despite your best efforts to hide it from him.

“Well?” You raise an eyebrow to him, causing Peter to snap out of his thoughts as he stutters over his words.

“I erm, I wasn’t I just,” He motions to his apartment, and then to yours before sighing. “I heard someone yell and a door slam.” He says calmly, trying to keep his cool as you nod.

“Yeah, that would’ve been me.” You raise your hand, a weak laugh leaving your lips as you look down at the floor. “Sorry ‘bout that. Bad day.” You apologise, but Peter shakes his head profusely, catching your attention.

“No need. Everyone has bad days.” He comments, smiling softly at you.

You nod back, only to feel tears filling your eyes again and for once you’re unable to hold them back. “I’m sorry,” You repeat once more as you cover your face, feeling your sobs wracking through your body.

Peter steps forward, wrapping his arms around you hesitantly. He can’t help but feel awkward as you continue to cry in his arms. That is until you wrap yours around him, holding him tightly as your sobs soften into whimpers.

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Peter hushes, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “If you wanna talk about it, I got time and my Aunt has some really good tea.” He suggests as you pull yourself from his embrace, wiping your eyes as a watery laugh escapes your lips.

“I appreciate that thanks, Peter.” You respond and Peter looks at you with wide eyes. “What, you think I don’t notice you at the library? Or how your Aunt is always calling after you in the mornings?” You remark and Peter opens his lips, a smile rising on his face. Maybe you do notice him after all.

“Come on, let me get you a drink.” Peter wraps his arm around you instinctively, holding you close as he guides you into his Aunts apartment.

You both sit in silence for a while as Peter makes you a cup of tea. He notices how tightly you grasp the mug, that you’re lips are still quivering as you focus past him to the newspaper clippings of Spider-Man beside the small kettle and collection of mugs.

“You a big fan of the guy?” You speak up, and Peter follows your point of focus to see the articles his Aunt insist she keeps.

Shaking his head, Peter takes a seat beside you at the coffee table. “He’s alright, it’s my Aunt really. Thinks the world of the guy.” Peter laughs quietly whilst he sips his drink, scolding his lips before placing the mug back down. “What about you, any thoughts on Spidey?”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you lean back in your chair, looking up at the ceiling as damp lines the edges. It’s almost identical to your apartment, minus some furniture choices.

“My Dad thinks he’s a fraud, like some stalker.” You scoff, and Peter just nods. “But I think he seems like a good guy. He comes across as a cool guy who wants to help.” You explain as you focus on the pictures of him, oblivious that he’s actually sat beside you. “Sometimes I think I know him, that he’s like a guardian angel protecting me or some shit.” You shrug your shoulder, trying to pass it off as a joke.

“Maybe he just looks out for those who need it?” Peter suggests and you hum in response, a ghost of a smile crossing your lips.

“I’d like to think of it that way,” You comment. “but who knows. He’s just some guy at the end of the day, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter looks back at the blurred photos of himself, the words and comments that plaster his mind. “just some guy.”

After your first encounter with Peter, he’s learnt a lot about you and why you were so upset that day. Well, technically Peter didn’t find out, Spiderman did.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, he didn’t anticipate engaging with you as Spiderman but he couldn’t help himself.

You were walking home, headphones in and eyes fixated on the ground. Peter was simply doing his rounds of the neighbourhood. It was a Tuesday evening, things tended to be pretty quiet. But then he heard a scream three blocks over and you cry out for help.

He got to you before anything happened luckily. You were simply shaken up and revealed to him that this wasn’t the first time it had happened.

Spiderman had found you curled up in an alleyway, your bag was a few feet away from you with the content spilt out for all to see. He could see there was a struggle, and a hole had been torn in a new pair of tights you were wearing.

The signs were evident of what could’ve happened, and he heavily encouraged that he take you home, just to be sure you got back safely.

And that’s when it started, Peter having a double life with you as his friend. You had one friendship with Spiderman, someone who was a guardian angel to you and then there was Peter, you’re fun-loving neighbour.

Peter woke up to insistent knocking on his front door. “Aunt May!” He sleepily yelled through the apartment before glancing over at the clock, seeing she would’ve already left by now.

With a heavy sigh, Peter tore himself from his bed and dragged his feet to the front door. As he opened it, you barged past him and paced around the kitchen space.

“Mornin’ to you too, Y/n.” Peter yawns as you roll your eyes, unable to keep still. “You alright?” He questions as you shake your head but then nodded.

“I, I’m not sure.” You answer him honestly, looking up at him as you bite your nails. “Last night I, I met Spiderman.” You tell him and Peter’s eyes widen. “Yeah,” You scoff. “I know.”

Peter pulls out a chair and takes a seat. “Wait, I mean, how?” He asks, trying his best to act surprised as you run your fingers through your hair before sitting opposite him.

“Well, I was walkin’ home last night and he showed up.” You skip a few details, but Peter already knows these having witnessed the aftermath last night. He nods along, not wanting to pressure you into telling any more. “He, he was sweet and helped me get home.” You say with a small smile, still trying to comprehend it all.

“Wow.” Peter whistles as he leans back, seeing you glancing over at the black and white pictures of him from the articles once more. “I mean, what was he like?”

You lean forward, resting your head in your hand and sigh. “Not what I expected. Younger than I thought. A lot funnier.” You can’t wipe your smile, and neither can Peter internally listening to you talking about him.

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?” He questions and you shake your head, looking down at your lap to see the single rip in your tights from last night.

“I doubt it. If I did, I would hope it would be under better circumstances, you know?” You reply and Peter simply nods. “Anyway,” You quickly change the topic of conversation, not wanting to dwell on the details leading up to meeting the one and only neighbourhood Spiderman. “wanna get breakfast at Jamie’s Diner? I’m starving!” You chuckle as you rise to your feet.

“Sure, let me just get my phone.” Peter tells you as he wanders into his bedroom, closing the door behind him before looking in the mirror.

Behind him, he can see his Spiderman costume peeping from his wardrobe and quickly closes it as he tries his hardest to wipe the excited grin off of his face.

“Okay, let’s get some breakfast.” Peter walks out from his room but leaves the door ajar. You smile as you follow him from the apartment and head to breakfast, eager to get to know Peter better.

Weeks had passed by since you had last seen Spiderman, but you hadn’t anticipated seeing him unless it was a dire situation which you were thankful to not have been in.

“No Mom, I’m fine really.” You exit the store with a bag of groceries in one hand whilst you hold your phone to your ear with the other. Squinting your eyes you regretted not bringing sunglasses since rain was forecast for the entire weekend.

Normally, you’d be hanging out with Peter or studying. But with Peter busy with his Stark internship and you didn’t feel like studying alone, hence a detour to the store for something to eat.

“If you weren’t you’d say so, right?” Your Mom persists and you internally groan but nod. “I can’t see you, honey you gotta use words.” She jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, Mom.” You say with a small laugh. “I’d tell you, anyway I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later?”

Hanging up the phone, you turn the corner of the street to your block.

The sound of a whistle catches your attention until it is suddenly cut off and as you whip your head around as a blur of red and blue crosses your vision.

“Oh, hi.” Spiderman appears behind you and you almost jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Christ.” You blurt out, holding your chest as your heart pounds.

“No, Spiderman, actually.” He chuckles as you take a deep breath. “You alright, sorry if I scared you there.” Peter tries his best to disguise his voice as you tilt your head, almost recognising his voice.

You nod, still struggling for words. “I, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect to see you in broad daylight.” You joke and Spiderman spins on the spot.

“Well, here I am. In daylight.” He jokes and you laugh lightly.

“Are you some guardian angel or something? Because I swear you’re around whenever I’m almost in trouble.” You playfully comment and Spiderman shrugs his shoulder.

“I can be if you want me to be.” He comments back, and Peter can feel his cheeks burning up beneath his mask as you bite your lower lip between your teeth.

Looking around, you notice a few people stopping. The sight of flashes from phones plays out in the corner of your eye and you turn back to face Spiderman. “I appreciate it, thanks Spiderman.” You give him a small nod before walking off, listening to the sounds of his name being called as you turn into your building, forcing yourself to not look back.

But Peter watches as you unlock the front door through all the phones in his face. “Alright, folks I gotta go.” He announces as the crowds back away. “People to save, city to watch.” He adds as he shoots a web and disappears out of sight, listening to cheers as he lands on top of the roof of the apartment building.

As he sits on top of the building, he hears his phone ringing. Pulling it out, he lifts his mask up and walks into the stairwell out of sight. “Hey, Y/n.” He answers, hearing you dumping something heavy onto your counter as you exhale loudly.

“Pete, oh my god you won’t believe what just happened.” You chuckle and Peter leans back against the stairwell, looking down the gaps knowing you’re several flights away.

“No, you saw him again?” He tries his best to sound excited as he listens to you laugh so happily, something he’ll never truly tire of. “Okay, I’m leaving in an hour. Want to grab dinner and tell me all about it?” He suggests and you stand still, taken by surprise.

Your prolonged silence doesn’t go unnoticed and you listen to Peter starting to ramble.

“I mean if you don’t wanna that’s fine too. God that came off strong right? I just I,” Peter can feel his heart sinking as he tries to hide his disappointment, only to hear you cut him off.

“Peter, breathe!” You playfully yell down the line. “I’d love to get dinner tonight. Seven okay with you?”

Nodding to himself, Peter cannot stop his smile from growing. “Yeah, yeah seven’s great. Perfect even.” He rubs the back of his neck before slipping his mask back on. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, you hang up the phone and can’t help but feel your grin widen, reflecting Peter’s who makes his way back down the side of the building until he reaches your kitchen window.

He glances in, noticing you dancing around giddily as you put away groceries with your headphones in. “Dancin’ on the moonlight,” You sing to yourself, out of tune as you sway your hips whilst Peter watches, chuckling beneath the mask.

As you turn around you jump catching a quick glimpse of the red and blue once more. “Shit.” Peter swears under his breath as he leans against the side of the building, just away from your window.

Stepping forward, you’re convinced you imagined it all.

Hesitating at the window, Peter can feel his heartbeat in his ears. “You spyin’ on me, Spiderman?” You joke as Peter turns his head, still clung to the wall.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.” He tries to keep his confidence up, but his voice cracks through his sentence.

Leaning against the window ledge, you can feel the breeze through your hair as you hum contently. “Well, as you can see I’m home and I’m okay.” You shrug your shoulders, glancing over at him wishing you could see the face beneath the mask. “And I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a date tonight Spidey!” You call out, and Peter can feel his heart swell.

“A date, huh?” He responds, moving to perch in your window as his legs dangle into your apartment. “Who’s the lucky one?”

You move over to the kitchen counter, taking your mug as you sip your drink. Peter can see the small pot of tea May gifted you a few weeks ago still in use.

“No one you’d know.” You tell him with a smirk. “But he’s a good guy, so you don’t have to watch over me tonight.”

Spiderman nods in response, before giving you a small salute. “You wearing those?” He motions to your tights laced with small holes and ladders.

“What’s wrong with them?” You scoff playfully, raising an eyebrow as you look down at your legs.

Despite wearing a mask, you can predict the expression underneath. “Nothin’” He answers too quickly, and you pull out a chair from your coffee table.

Sitting down, you take another sip from your tea before lifting your eyes back up to Spiderman. “I don’t own any tights without holes in them. When I first got mugged my tights got laddered. My Mom didn’t like me to look scruffy or show any sign that something happened, so she bought me a new pair. But as it happened again, I realised that I couldn’t always just buy a new pair of tights.” You explain, drifting off deep in thought as you tilt your head. “Sorry, this probably makes no sense.” You laugh quietly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“No, no I follow.” Spiderman states as he rests his feet on the floor, leaning against the window frame rather than sitting. “You don’t wanna hide these things that have happened.” He comments and you unknowingly meet his eyes. For a moment, Peter feels like you’re talking to him, not just a man in a mask.

“E,exactly.” You stumble over your response as you let out a small sigh of relief. “Like, if you got shot, you’d repair your suit. But you’d still have a scar underneath.” You rise to your feet, slowly walking closer toward him. “Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen and you’ll always know it did.”

“So you wear the tights as a reminder?” He questions and you look away from him.

“Partially, but also as a reminder I’m stronger and no matter how many falls I have or dicks come my way, I still make it out.” You tell him, flashing a weak smile.

“Well,” Spiderman rises from the window and rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think you’re pretty strong.” He tells you, wishing you could see Peter telling you this as you look away as your cheeks heat up. “And whoever you’re seeing tonight is a lucky guy.”

“Thanks, Spidey.” You weirdly feel like you know him, and it’s a feeling you’re struggling to shake. “Peter’s a great guy, I just, I don’t know how to tell him.” You admit and feel his hand weaken from your shoulder as it falls to his side.

Backing away, Spiderman sits in the window, looking back one last time. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and he’d be stupid not to like you back.”

Before you can say anything else, he shoots and web and disappears out of sight into the city. You lean against the window before pulling it back down, shutting out any negative thoughts as you turn back around to get ready for your date.

“So you’re telling me, you hang out with her as Spiderman and as Peter?” Ned questions with wide eyes as Peter buries his face into a pillow, nodding. “Wow, I didn’t think you could make it more complicated but you did.” Ned laughs to himself as Peter lifts his head up, giving Ned a look of desperation.

“What do I do? She told Spiderman that she likes me, but I can’t exactly tell her that I know because she’ll find out I’m him.” Peter tries to explain but can feel his own brain turning to mush at the explanation.

Ned swivels in his chair as he remains in deep thought. “Would it be so bad if she knew you were Spiderman?” Ned suggests and Peter nods defensively. “What’s so bad about it? She likes Spiderman, and you’re him!”

Peter sighs as he sits upright, hugging the pillow close to his chest. “Because she confides in Spiderman in a way she doesn’t with me. I can’t explain it, but she has this emotional connection with him.”

“Dude, you’re talking about yourself you know.” Ned deadpans and Peter groans loudly, covering his face with the pillow as he falls back down on the bed.

“I’m aware, Ned.” Peter replies nonchalantly. “I like her, and I don’t wanna screw it up.” He states, picturing you earlier today as you opened up in your kitchen, talking so candidly about the things that have happened in your past.

“Then just see what happens tonight. If you wanna bring it up or if it feels right, do it. Just, just see okay?” Ned watches as Peter sits upright as he picks up his phone along with his mask.

“You’re right.” Peter admits with a huff. “I gotta get ready. Good talk.” He tells his best friend as he slips his mask back on before exiting through the window, knowing he was cutting time short.

As Peter reaches his apartment, he rushes around to get ready in time. He knew he was cutting it fine, but there was enough time for him to make an effort- just.

Fiddling with his jacket, a series of knocks on his front door catches his attention. “Comin’” He yells as he stumbles over his sneakers on his rug before making his way to the front door and opening it before catching his breath.

“Hey, Pete.” You say with a smile, seeing him huffing. “You just ran a marathon or something?” You tease as you step inside the apartment, spotting the collection of newspaper clippings having grown, including a photo of you and Spiderman. “Oh my god, it was in the paper?”

Peter follows your eyes as you walk over, pointing to the photo where you’re laughing with Spiderman. “Yeah, crazy.” He nervously chuckles, seeing how your eyes are lighting up at the sight of it. “I’ll just finish getting ready.” Peter mutters as he walks into his room, leaving you alone as you look through the photos.

“Wait, Peter?” You call out as you follow him into his room, leaning against the door frame as he looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Can, can I ask you something, I, I can’t really wait to ask til dinner.” You nervously question, looking around at the posters in his room.

Falling back onto his bed, Peter watches as you pace around on his rug, avoiding his sneakers. “Are you okay? If you’re not feeling good we don’t have to go for dinner.” Peter suggests, but you shake your head.

“No no, I feel fine, it’s nothing like that.” You quickly reassure him. “I just, I really like you Peter.” You blurt it out, letting it settle as you shut your eyes tightly.

His mouth drops open as his eyes widen whilst yours remain closed.

“Oh god have you walked out of the room?” You slowly open your eyes, seeing him still sat before you in silence. “And I’m sorry if that’s made our friendship awkward, but I had to tell you.” You say with a small laugh as you fiddle with your purse.

Rising to his feet, Peter reaches out as he takes a hold of your hand in his softly. “I’m glad you did,” He mutters, lifting his eyes up to focus on yours as he notices the corners of your lips rise into a smile. “and if it helps, I like to you too.” He awkwardly adds and you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Thank god for that.” You chuckle into his chest, resting your head into the crook of his neck as his hands are around you, holding you tightly. “Oh, there was one other thing too.” You pull out from his embrace as your hands slide down his arms into his hands, intertwining your fingers with his. “I know you’re Spiderman.” You state and his eyes widen.

“I, I, what?” He stutters, feeling his entire body heating up as you start to laugh. “No, I, I’m not.” He tells you, shaking his head whilst you nod.

“Yeah, yeah you are, Pete.” You repeat yourself, but Peter scoffs.

“That’s crazy, how could I be Spiderman?” He asks dumbfounded, but you take your hands from his and turn around to face his wardrobe. “Wait don’t-” He starts, but he’s too late.

You reach up and pull out his suit, taking it in your hands before turning back to face him. “You keep this as fancy dress, huh?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing you’ve bested him.

“How, how?” Peter stumbles, sitting back on his bed before you sit beside him.

“I mean, it wasn’t that difficult to figure out.” You pat his knee. “The more time I spent with Spiderman, the more similarities I found with you. Like, he just sounded and acted like you.” You explain as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I wasn’t convinced, until I mentioned I liked you, as in you, Peter.” You chuckle. “Something seemed different, and I noticed that Peter Parker nervous energy in Spiderman. But this,” You motion to his suit beside you. “this proves my point.” You say with a bright smile, whilst Peter shakes his head in disbelief.

“So when you were talkin’ about all that stuff,” He trails off as you nod.

“I knew it was you.” You confirm his suspicions as you glance up at him, your nose brushing against his. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t sure, but I, I just knew it was you, Pete.” You whisper as his lips brush against yours.

“Thank you, Y/n.” He mutters before kissing you.

Your hands reach into his hair as he pulls you onto his lap, allowing his hands to support your waist as you straddle him. Peter deepens the kiss, listening to a small moan escape your lips.

The sound of a loud knock breaks you apart as you’re both breathing heavily. “You expectin’ anyone?” You question and Peter shakes his head.

“Stay here.” He mutters to you as he slowly walks out from his room and toward the front door.

Slowly, Peter opens the front door and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, hey Mr Stark.” His cheeks heat up as he tugs on his shirt, straightening it up as Tony looks him up and down.

“Hey kid, sorry to disturb you. I just wondered if, oh,” Tony trails off as you walk out from Peter’s room, tugging on your dress as you shyly wave. “you’ve got company.” He raises an eyebrow as Peter looks back over to you.

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself, holding your hand out as Tony shakes it.

“You’re Y/n?” Tony answers, looking over to Peter with a smile. “You’ve done well, kid.” Tony chuckles, patting Peter on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to you Monday, you two enjoy your weekend.” He points to you both before exiting the apartment, leaving you both in a weird silence before you laugh.

“You told Tony Stark about me?” You walk over to Peter, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Peter rests his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I mean, I talk about you a lot. But not in a weird way, just like,”

Cutting Peter off you kiss him. “I don’t mind, Pete.” You tell him. “I think it’s cute. Now come on,” You tug his hand as you pick up your purse. “can’t miss our dinner reservation Spidey.” You wink as you walk out from his door as he follows behind you, excited to see where the night will lead you both.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio to add yourself☺️

@biss-stuff @psychicforest @lourightm @mywinterwolf @justsomedreaming @stanlux17@supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken@marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @fandom-princess-forevermore

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the--highlanders · 4 years

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16. Fairy

on ao3.

“I’m not quite sure -” The Doctor stopped, leaning over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “What you think you’ll accomplish here, Jamie.”

“I want tae see the faery well,” Jamie said flatly. “Come on, ye have us runnin’ from beasties all over the place an’ ye cannae even climb a wee hill?”

The look the Doctor gave him was witheringly doubtful, and he laughed. “I dare say I’m a sprinter. Anyway, it’s not such a little hill.”

It was true, as much as it pained Jamie to back down from the banter. Glancing behind them, he looked down over the forest stretched out below. The bare trunks that surrounded them slowly receded behind the slope, vanishing amongst the tops of the trees further down the hill. Across the valley below, the city they had walked up from was tucked amongst the leaves, even its great, bulbous buildings seeming small from their height and distance.

“Alright, then. Not such a little hill.” He tucked the Doctor’s arm into his, pulling him onwards. “But I meant what I said. We’ve had worse than this.”

“Alright, then,” the Doctor repeated back to him, smiling. “And it has been a rather pleasant walk. I’m just not so sure about your chances of finding anything.”

“It’s no’ about finding something,” Jamie said. “Just about goin’ to the place.” The Doctor gave a little non-committal mumble that fell just short of sounding like agreement. “Ye don’t get it.”

“I do,” the Doctor insisted hastily. “But do you really think there’s a – a -” He sighed. “Well, it’s not exactly a faery, is it? This isn’t Earth.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s close enough.”

“But do you really think there’s something up there?”

Jamie shrugged. “Nila said there was. Why should I doubt her?”

The Doctor fell silent, blinking at him. “But there’s no proof,” he said at last, as painfully plaintive as if Jamie had insulted him.

Jamie blinked back at him. “Does there have tae be?”

“Well -” The Doctor wavered from side to side as he walked, tapping his hands together. “I understand that you believe in these things, Jamie, but I simply -”

“Think I’m wrong?”

“Can’t,” the Doctor said firmly. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you. Oh – well – I don’t believe in it – you know what I mean,” he finished awkwardly, flapping his hands as if they could end the sentence for him. “Cultural context, and all that. We see things differently.”

“Oh, aye.” Jamie hooked his fingers through his belt, mulling it over. “So last week – with the Cybermen -”

“When you thought the Cyberman was the phantom piper, yes.”

Nudging at the Doctor’s side, Jamie stuck his tongue out at him. The Doctor pulled a face in return, and they grinned at each other for a moment longer, frustration smoothed out by silliness. “Och, I know it wasn’t that, now. An’ I wasnae exactly thinking straight then, so I wasnae thinking of that. No, I meant – when Polly came up with sprayin’ them. I’d said about holy water, an’ she said -”

“Ah! Yes, I see.” The Doctor nodded. “That’s what I mean, we – we think of things differently, because we come from different places.” He paused, sighing to himself, almost deflating. “But – that isn’t quite it, either, is it? It isn’t like you think Nila’s people are faeries because they can do things that people in your time couldn’t imagine. That would be cultural context. But you’ve never even seen this place. There’s nothing for you to need a – a folklore, or a mythology, to explain.”

Jamie watched him finish rambling with a touch of amusement. “Are ye done tryin’ tae analyse me?” If he had learnt anything from travelling with the Doctor these past two weeks, he thought, it was that he was an odd creature. Clever – too clever for his own good sometimes – but somehow with a knack for missing the obvious. “I’m just interested, that’s all. Why shouldn’t I believe Nila that there’s a faery up there? You’ve trusted her with most other things, here.”

The Doctor stared back at him in disbelief. “Because there isn’t any proof!”

“I didnae see any proof that the sun made those big wheels go round, but ye believed that, alright.”

“But that’s different.”

“Alright, alright.” Jamie held his hands out, as if to placate the Doctor. “So ye say ye need proof tae say there is somethin’ up there. But can ye prove there’s not a faery?” He felt a rush of satisfaction when the Doctor spluttered and floundered, but no coherent words emerged from him. “An’ if ye really want to know, I’m walkin’ up here ‘cause it reminds me of a place I used tae visit.”

“Oh?” The Doctor perked up at that. “What sort of place?”

“They used tae call it Càrn Mòr. Full of trees, but ye could see these big ditches an’ things – an’ bits an’ pieces of a wall runnin’ round it, like.” He traced out a circle in the air. “Dunno if it was a faery or a giant or a man who lived there, but it was there, alright. No’ natural. I used tae walk to it, sometimes. Took a few hours there an’ back, but it was worth it, tae stand there an’ wonder.”

“So you’re walking up here as a sort of a -” The Doctor screwed up his face in thought. “A pilgrimage, because of that place?”

Jamie swiped at him, though he grinned as he did so. “You’re overthinkin’ it again,” he said. “Ye must’ve had faery stories, an’ things, where ye come from. ‘Cause – if your people are so clever that they forgot tae believe in somethin’ else -” It unnerved him, if truth be told, though he did not dare tell the Doctor so. But he could not help thinking of the schoolmasters he had heard of at home, the way they had emptied boys’ heads of stories and filled them with what they thought was good sense, and he shuddered. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever good fortune he had that he had been left to his father’s piping school, and to his mother’s tales. “That’s sad, I think,” he said instead.

“Oh – Oh, I suppose we had stories, about deep time -” The Doctor frowned at Jamie’s triumphant grin. “But that’s different! It was all history. It was true.”

“So’s this tae Nila,” Jamie pointed out. “So’s the faery stories tae me. Maybe it’s just a different sort of history than you’re used to. Did ye ever think of that?”

The Doctor’s silence told Jamie that the answer was no, but he could not bring himself to say it. “I’ve tried awfully hard,” he said slowly, “to think about things differently. Not to be – ah – judgemental, I suppose. To accommodate.”

“I don’t want ye tae accommodate,” Jamie said softly. He had hardly expected the Doctor to come over all serious about it. There was a vulnerability to his expression that he had not seen before, like something about Jamie’s confidence in the faeries had shaken him. “It’s no’ like there’s somethin’ wrong with me, just ‘cause we don’t believe in the same things.” It wouldn’t be nice, he told himself, to have a dig at the Doctor when he was looking so worried – but maybe it would make him smile again. “Cultural context, an’ all that.”

The gamble paid off better than he had hoped, and the Doctor laughed. “Cultural context,” he repeated. “Yes, I suppose it is. I am sorry. Old habits, you know.”

It was not a schoolmaster standing before him in the shape of the Doctor, Jamie thought, but one of the schoolboys, running up against something he could not understand and wondering what to do with it. “’S alright.”

“And who am I, to say that there’s not a faery up there?”

Jamie grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

“So tell me.” The Doctor folded his arms, corners of his mouth twitching – but with fondness, not derision. Not even disbelief. “What else do you believe?”

“Well.” Of course, now he had asked, Jamie was left scrambling around for something – anything – to tell him. “Och, I’m not a good person tae ask. There’s much better storytellers than me.” He had been so caught up in the madness of the past couple of weeks that he had almost forgotten to be homesick, but in that moment he found he missed the people he had once known, and missed them desperately. It ought to have been his mother, he thought, walking up that hill, endless stories on her lips, off to collect another one. But it was just him, left with broken pieces of her words. “See – my mathair, she used tae tell me this story, about the King of the Otters...”

#second doctor #fanfic archive #my writing #sketchtober 2020

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sablelab · 4 years

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 86

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

THANK YOU all so much for reading my story after my 5-week hiatus. I was thrilled to know that you were waiting for its return and I really appreciated your kind messages to me. Your feedback about the chapter raised some questions that will be answered in forthcoming chapters. Thank you so much.

SYNOPSIS: James Fraser tracks down William Ransom to a secret location in the woods. He also finds his accomplice Steven Bonnet there and wrecks some havoc on the two university students. Steven Bonnet is recalcitrant, but with Jamie’s frightening methods and intimidating persuasion, he finds out where his Claire can be found.

Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

N.B. This chapter contains some violence

CHAPTER 86 (V)

Hurriedly leaving the University grounds, Jamie steered the SUV back onto Route 1 and headed towards Lion Rock Tunnel for the new address the university supervisor had given him was located in the New Territories. The address was for a cabin situated in the woods which belonged to the family of his friend Steven Bonnet; therefore, it was probable that this man was the accomplice in Claire's kidnapping. Clearly William Ransom and this Steven Bonnet had decided to lay low away from Hong Kong in the scenic hillsides and forestry plantations of Lion Rock Country Park in the Mong Fu Shek area. It was much easier for two men to disappear in this wooded, isolated area for a while rather than in the city itself where it was possible someone would know of their movements. Jamie knew that if both men were at the location then he would have a good chance of getting the Intel he needed as to Claire’s whereabouts.

Driving through the forested area he continued on for some miles until coming to an intersection which looked like two logging roads. He stopped and checked his map as to the most probable road to take where a cabin may be located, before turning the SUV down the dirt road that led towards a river. As luck would have it, it was the right decision. When he saw a cabin in the distance, Jamie killed the engine and cruised along the winding track before parking the car a discreet distance away from the cabin under the cover of foliage. Soundlessly, he got out of the vehicle so as not to alert anyone of his presence, then made his way nearer to the cabin. Hiding in the bushes, he observed the surrounding perimeter looking for any sign of life and in particular the two men who he was looking for.

Creeping closer he could see that the cabin was indeed occupied, as smoke was filtering from the chimney. There was also a 4-wheel drive parked out the front and music was blaring from a stereo system that was at odds with the tranquillity of the locale. On high alert in case someone appeared, Jamie carefully looked around checking for anomalies but the perimeter was clear. There was no sign that William Ransom was anywhere else but inside the house. However, just as he was about to creep even further closer to the cabin, he heard the sound of a car engine. Immediately he stepped back under the cover of the undergrowth while he surveyed the area yet again particularly the route of the sound. Suddenly from the opposite direction, an all-terrain vehicle appeared at one end of another road leading to the cabin. The driver had his foot to the floor, skylarking and doing burnouts along the track. As the person driving neared the cabin, the tyres skidded in the dirt when the jeep came to a sudden halt stopping in a cloud of dust.

Jamie watched to see what would happen next.

A young man got out of the vehicle calling to the occupant of the cabin as he ran up the stairs yelling to be heard over the music. "Hey Will ... You in there?" When there was no immediate answer, he called out again, this time pounding on the door to make himself heard. "Ransom! Open up ... it's me!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The music died down and another man, obviously William Ransom, came to the door, opened it and stepped outside. Jamie had a good view of the two assailants as they stood on the porch talking. He observed their interactions and body language to see if there were any weakness he could exploit. "Hey man ... how come you're so late?” William asked with some concern in his greeting. “Did you get all the supplies we need?" "Yeah ... I've got enough to last us a couple of weeks." "That's good ... Did you remember my cigarettes?"

"Yeah ... here you go," Steven Bonnet replied tossing the packet to his friend.

William Ransom took one out of the packet and lit up, inhaled deeply as if savouring an elixir then tensely exhaled the smoke into the air. He took a few quick puffs before throwing the lit cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the sole of his foot. It appeared to Jamie that he was a little nervous and knew that this lad was vulnerable and uneasy. The question was why? Was he afraid of his friend or was it some other deep-seated factor? Like what role did he play in Claire’s kidnapping? Jamie was interested to hear more of their interactions, hoping that it could reveal more information as to who else may be involved in Claire’s disappearance other than these two males. "Anything happen while I was away?" Steven asked as his buddy followed him to his car to collect the supplies. "Wang Yu called," William stated matter-of-factually as he began to unload the supplies from the jeep. Steven stopped what he was doing and looked at his friend with a perplexed look on his face. "Oh?" "He wants you to call him ASAP." “I wonder what he wants?” Steven Bonnet speculated as he flipped open his cell phone and dialled his number. As he waited for a connection, he turned to his buddy asking, "Did he say anything to you?" "No." Loaded up with supplies William Ransom went back into the house while Bonnet waited for Wang Yu to answer his call signalling that he'd be back for more goods once he'd put these away. Finally, a connection was made and he replied to the caller, "Hello ..." "Ah, Steven ... I have a question of you." Wang Yu stated without preamble. "Sure ... fire away," was his cocky answer. "Tell me ... the gun you had in your possession. Was it yours?" "Well ... I had two guns... which one are you referring to?" "The revolver with the distinctive markings on it." "Oh ... that one." "Yes ... Where did you get it from?" "I picked it up when that broad dropped it at the apartment block." "So, it's hers then?"

"Yep ... why?"

"That's not important, but thank you for the information,” he stated cutting off any further discussion as to why he required this info. Then to stop Bonnet from any other questions put forward a proposition to him. “Now I also have a favour to ask of you." Steven’s ears pricked up at this request. He looked around to see if William was returning and when he failed to see his friend replied, "Really? ... Just me?" "Yes ... after your performance with our prisoner ... I think you are the right person for this job." With an inflated sense of importance that he’d been singled out, Steven Bonnet replied. "Thank you ... what do you want me to do Mr Yu?" "Someone has been making inquiries about the Rising Dragons in New Kowloon and on Hong Kong Island. I need you to take care of them. I need you to intimidate them by any means necessary … but the end result will be their elimination. Can you do that?" "Of course, ... I'm your man ... I'm listening ...." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

William Ransom returned just as Steven was disconnecting the call. Bonnet had an enigmatic smirk on his face and William looked at his partner wanting to know what Wang Yu had wanted. When Steven gave nothing away with his gaze, he asked, "Has there been a last-minute change of plans?" "No ... he wanted to know about the woman's gun,” then reluctantly added, “… and he offered me another job." "What job?" "A hit in New Kowloon or one on Hong Kong Island." "And what did you say?" He asked wary of what Steven Bonnet had got them into again after the success of the kidnapping of Claire Beauchamp. "I said I'd take the one in New Kowloon." "Why?" "Because it pays more and is consistent with our cover story and besides it's close by." "Ah, I see ... Did he say anything about me?" "No ... I think he sensed that you were lacking in ruthlessness for a hit." William was relieved to hear that it was only Steven that was required to do this job for the Rising Dragons and breathed a sigh of relief. Kidnapping Claire Beauchamp had affected him more that he realised. "He's right ... I don't think I'm cut out for this ... not like you Steven." "Why not?" "It didn't seem right kidnapping that woman ... and then when I shot her ... that was a mistake." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From his concealed vantage point, James Fraser heard every word of their conversation and his ears pricked up when he heard Ransom say this. He was immediately shaken to the core and enraged beyond belief at this piece of information. It was inconceivable to think that his Claire had been the victim of a shooting on top of having been kidnapped. Jamie closed his eyes as the despair of the worst-case scenario coursed through his mind.

No! His Claire had been shot! ... Was she already dead?

These thoughts were followed by the feelings of revenge and vengeance towards her perpetrator and he vowed that he would kill William Ransom with his bare hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

However, just as he was about to move forward, William added, "Thank goodness it was only a flesh wound."

"She'll be fine ... anyway it's not our worry ... we did our job and were told to lay low and that's what we're doing." Steven Bonnet answered dismissively.

"Yeah, but I can't help thinking about what we did ... what you did." Steven looked at William perplexed as to what he was alluding to. "What I did?" he asked mystified. In return he side eyed his buddy. "You roughed her up a lot Steven ... that wasn't necessary." "Well it worked didn't it? And now Wang Yu wants me to take care of some business for the triad." "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Yeah ... It's not as if we're real members of the Rising Dragons yet." "I beg to differ ... I think this is their way of ensuring that they have us where they want us. Because of the kidnapping and now this hit, we've got ourselves in too deep to get out of the triad now. You know how ruthless they can be and if they think we'll talk, then our lives won't be worth living. I'm a bit concerned actually." "Ah ... It's all in your mind Will ... we're in and that's it ... Think of it as an adventure." "I think it will be our death sentence." He replied with a sense of doom to his voice. Steven Bonnet just laughed at his trepidation. "I'll look after you my friend ... you think too much. It will be fine. No one knows we're here except Wang Yu." "I hope you're right," William answered forlornly. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jamie continued to listen to their conversation and the more he heard the more his anger intensified. Ransom’s partner, Steven Bonnet appeared to be more ruthless, gung-ho and callus of the two, and he too would suffer retaliation for what he had done to his Sassenach. Both men would feel the full force of Section One’s cold-blooded killer’s wrath for touching just one single hair on Claire’s head. At first the two men seemed to be polar opposites and Jamie was convinced that Ransom was the weaker of the two, but perhaps he’d been wrong in his assessment of the young man. Perhaps this William Ransom had some remorse after all for what he’d done.

However, there was one thing Jamie was certain of. Ransom and Bonnet’s words would come back to haunt them once they knew who they were up against. If William was worried about the triad then he had nothing to fear but once he met James Fraser his nightmares would only just be beginning. As for Bonnet thinking this was an adventure, he would rue the day he made that mistake, for he would show no mercy to either man for what they had done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Suddenly Steven stopped talking and twisted his head around when he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. Spooked, he quickly turned in the direction of the noise and fired his gun ... scaring a flock of birds into the air.

"What was that?" William asked with a tremor in his voice. "Nothing ... Just some birds. Your words were making me paranoid. I thought I heard something." "I guess we're both a little jumpy." Picking up a carton of beer from the back seat of the jeep, Steven placed his arm around his friend’s shoulder. "Come on Ransom let's go and have a beer to celebrate our initiation into the Rising Dragons and toast our success in the kidnapping." "Okay," he replied feeling better after hearing his confident reply. "We're going to have a long stay in the woods because we like the isolation hey Will?"

"Yeah ... we do," he laughed in reply as they both headed inside the cabin to crack open a couple of beers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two young men walked away oblivious to the real danger that lay in wait just meters away.

Jamie had heard enough. It was time for reprisal for these two assailants and in particular Steven Bonnet who had dared to roughen up and manhandle his Claire. William Ransom too had injured her and for that he also would pay. Any man who laid a finger on his Sassenach would be the recipient of his wrath and these two men would both wish they were dead for hurting Claire.

Their worst nightmare awaited them. An adversary like no other watched and waited until Steven Bonnet and William Ransom had entered the cabin before he made his move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Returning to the SUV, James Fraser opened the bag that Walter had given him. Inside there was a mini compact missile made to make an impact but not too high on the destruction level. The missile would detonate but cause minimal damage but enough to force the two men out into the open when caught unawares. Jamie quickly took it out,

set up the small projectile on a launcher, aimed it at the cabin and readied it for launch. Keying in a sequence of numbers, the missile automatically lit up and finally burst free on its trajectory. Once the rocket was launched, Jamie watched it silently advance through the trees to its target.

The sound of an explosion as the projectile detonated reverberated in the stillness while the sound of shocked voices could be heard coming from inside the cabin.

Scrutinizing the area, Jamie leaned against a tree as he took cover with his gun at the ready, watching for the two kidnappers to come out of the cabin. As he waited, he studied the area while his Section instincts alerted him to a possible problem. Everything seemed a little too quiet. The voices inside the cabin had ceased and William Ransom and Steven Bonnet had not yet emerged. However, the cabin door eventually flew open and they soon came rushing out onto the porch in a state of shock but still brandishing weapons at the ready. As they appeared Jamie aimed his gun, firing a shot over their heads. The two men ran from the cabin and ducked behind the cover of William's 4-wheel drive hiding behind the vehicle to get out of the open where they were vulnerable from an unknown foe. Bonnet took aim too firing his pistol in the direction of the gunfire. However, there was no sign of Jamie as he had moved to another position where he watched as the two young men came to grips with the fact that they were not alone. William Ransom began to panic and made to get up to run into the woods but Steven grasped him by his jumper and held him back. Grabbing him, he placed a hand over the terrified man's mouth, quieting him. "Shhh. Will ... listen to me. We don't have very much time. I'm going to need your help. We need to get out of here." Realizing that Steven was trying to help him overcome his fear, he immediately calmed down. "But how?" he answered nervously looking around for the assassin. "We'll make a dash for my jeep and make our getaway." He pointed to where he had parked his vehicle a short dash away from the safety of the car they were crouching behind. "Are you sure that will work? What if he fires again?" "You go first then and I'll cover you ... Start up the jeep and I'll catch up. Okay?" "O-kay," he worriedly replied. Jamie quietly observed everything that was happening, then slipped out of sight to a better vantage point firing another round of bullets towards the two men. He watched as one man, then the other ran in the direction of the other vehicle. He moved into position letting both men get in the vehicle as William Ransom revved up the motor and backed the jeep back onto the dirt road. However, just as they were about to speed off down the road, they saw a man dressed in black step out on to the track ahead of them. William immediately accelerated hard and tried to run him down, but before he could hit him, Jamie shot out the front left tyre. The jeep careened off the road as the driver lost control and tried to steady the jeep without success before it crashed into a tree. The impact stalled the car and the jeep was now firmly lodged against the tree trunk. Panicking, William tried to restart the engine, but it wouldn't turn over. Steam began to pour out of the broken radiator under the bonnet. He revved the engine but merely flooded the carburettor while the tyres spun above the ground. Calmly closing in on the crashed vehicle, James Fraser aimed his gun at the two of them. "Get out of the car!" He ordered in an ominous tone. Steven Bonnet and William Ransom both looked at the menacing man who had a weapon pointed at them and nervously got out of the jeep. Jamie immediately aimed his gun again but as Steven moved over closer to William's side, he suddenly grabbed him as a hostage holding his gun up to his head. With the jeep to protect his back and using his friend as a human shield he threatened, "Drop the gun! ... Drop it! ... Drop it, man! I'll kill him ... if you don't let me go." "Kill him. I dinna bargain," was the steely reply. Taken a back Steven asked, "Who are you?" Jamie fired a shot over his head before Bonnet knew what was happening with his ominous words, "Yer worst nightmare." This action caught him unawares. They both ducked. Frightened, William thought that if Steven became irrational and fired back, he could be in the firing line. They stood at an impasse for a minute. Scrutinizing the man in black, Bonnet soon realised he could not underestimate him. The man had fired a rocket launcher at the cabin which had narrowly missed the two of them before detonating. More than likely he had other weapons too. Weighing up his options he finally held his gun out with his fingers and dropped it on the ground realizing the only way to kill this mystery man would endanger his friend.

William Ransom closed his eyes in relief.

With his gun still drawn, Jamie approached the two men and placed his gun to Steven Bonnet's head. "Yer going to tell me where Claire Beauchamp is."

"Who?" He replied foxing in his reply. "The woman ye kidnapped ... the one ye roughed up. Where is she?" "Don't know ... don't care."

"There are ways to make ye talk." At that, the gun was moved from Steven's head. Cold, emotionless, blue eyes looked him in the eye as James Fraser proceeded to calmly shoot him in the foot.

A large gasp erupted from Bonnet’s lips as the unexpected bullet pierced his foot. He flinched in pain but he answered Jamie with bravado. "I haven't seen her for a while."

"Well then, neither have I. That's ... the problem."

James Fraser was menacing in his perusal of the target who watched his assailant still recoiling in the pain of the first bullet. This man was far too hard to read and Steven was flummoxed as to what he might do next. With steely eyes and gritted teeth, he watched as this menacing man calculatingly moved the gun and took aim at his knee.

Toying with him like a cat with a mouse, Jamie announced, "Now ... I can work my way up until ye feel that ye wish to cooperate with me."

Steven Bonnet’s eyes widened in dread at his words before he closed them expecting one more bullet to his knee. Another shot rang out. He grabbed his knee but Jamie had merely taunted with him this time. Bending over in pain, he intonated, "Go to hell!"

Ignoring his retort, Jamie nonchalantly did shoot him in the knee before turning to look at William Ransom, giving him an intimidating look.

"Ye shot Claire ... Where is she?"

Realising that this imposing man was extremely threatening he swallowed before answering his words rushing out in bumbled urgency, "It ... it was an accident man ... I didn't mean to do it."

Without warning Jamie took retribution. Unsympathetically and with a cold look in his eye, he shot William in the leg. He screamed loudly and crouched down clutching at his leg which was bleeding profusely while cowering in fright. Coming up to stand over the two quivering men Jamie stated menacingly. "I can do this two ways ... kill ye first or kill ye later ... Either way ye'll be dead. I will find out ... now where is Claire Beauchamp being held?" "Steven, just tell him what he wants to know." William pleaded with him as the pain intensified where the bullet had lodged in his flesh. "Why should I?" Was his belligerent reply. Realising that his friend was not going to reveal the information this man wanted, he would instead if it would save his life. "She's ..." Even though Jamie still had his gun trained on him, Steven Bonnet censured his friend. "Shut up William ... he's only messing with our minds." Then, with bravado he turned to Jamie, "Like we care about any of this." "I'm sorry, are ye bored?" he replied disdainfully, the cold chill of his voice piercing through their brain with intent. Yet Bonnet refused to cower in the face of adversary and stood his ground. "Yeah. We've already told you we don't know anything." Suddenly Jamie's hand whipped out and he snapped him in the throat. Caught off guard Steven doubled over gasping and choking on his own bile. His throat was constricted and the pain was horrendous. Struggling for breath, he could barely breathe as he tried to gasp air back into his lungs.

"When yer ready … I'm waiting." Showing defiance in the face of adversity Steven merely stared at the mystery man refusing to give one iota, and then laughing replied flippantly, "Hey I remember now ... they took her to Hong Kong Disneyland." Jamie walked over to him. Steven Bonnet's eyes followed every move he made and watched as he chambered another bullet into his gun. Wondering if his time was up, he briefly closed his eyes. The mystery man's recent actions had given him no idea which way he would go. Jamie aimed the gun at him. "Now listen carefully. The choice is yours whether ye live or die." Trying to negotiate his way out of this sticky situation he was patronizing in his reply. "Oooh ... I'm afraid. If you kill us there will be no one to tell you where your woman is. Allow us to leave and I'll promise you that no harm will come to her. It's in your hands." James Fraser saw the supercilious smirk cross over the man's face as Bonnet raised his head to defiantly look at him. He was a typical recruit for the Rising Dragons … arrogant, proud, belligerent and not afraid to die. Catching a deft movement by the man Jamie caught a glimpse of a small gun Steven had secretively removed from a concealed place on his body. He pointed the gun at this menacing man in black ... but he was not quick enough in taking aim for before he could gain leverage Jamie shot him in self-defence. William Ransom watched in fear as the body of his friend slumped down onto the ground as the cold assassin stood his ground. "I want the location of Claire Beauchamp ... and I want it now." Petrified that he would meet the same demise as his friend, William was shaking in his boots and decided the best course of action was to tell all that he knew.

"Yes … yes … I'll tell you everything I know."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#jamie x claire fanfic outlander fanfiction claire x jamie jamie x claire crossoverau outlander lfn covertoperations covert operations jame #jamieandclairefanfic #outlander fanfic #claire and jamie #crossoverau #outlander #LFN #covert operations

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high-warlock-of-brooklyn · 4 years

Text

A Christmas Carol

@daisyherxndale I hope you like this. Happy holidays everyone!

Based on the prompt “Don’t ever do that again.”

Here, Jem’s sickness has been cured, and all three of them are married in the 19th century, because, well because I said so. I just want everyone to be happy ok?! Jamie and Lucie are Will’s biological kids, and Mina is Jem’s. Jamie is 21 here, Lucie is 18, and Mina is 15. They call Jem ‘Papa’ and Will ‘Dad’. And Jamie hasn’t met Grace yet, because I want my boy to be happy. Let’s see what else, oh, Matthew hasn’t committed that whole horrid business as said in GotSM because it’s Christmas and everyone should be happy.

___________________________________________

Over the years, Tessa’s Christmas experience has changed significantly. Back in New York, it used to be a small affair in Aunt Harriet’s small flat, unaware of a whole magical world hidden in plain sight, just her and Aunt Harriet. Decorating the entire house, bumping around the furniture while trying not to knock over the Christmas tree in the cramped drawing room. Cooking Christmas dinner, making do with what little they had, because Nate spent the money from the Christmas fund at the race track the week before. Exchanging presents after breakfast, Aunt Harriet usually getting her a hand-knitted scarf, or socks, or a new book, Tessa getting her chocolates. Tessa remembers waiting well after midnight for Nate to come home, drunk out of his mind. She remembers carrying him with Aunt Harriet, the stench of cheap alcohol hitting flooding her nostrils. Year after year it had been the same tradition. Until everything changed.

Until she came to London and met the wonderful people that she calls her family. The people around her right now.

“Papa, can I bother you about a thing?” Lucie’s voice floats in, cutting through the fog of memories in Tessa’s head. “Nonsense, you can never bother me, Luce,” she hears Jem say, “What do you need?”

They keep talking about something related to a melody Lucie wants to write about in her novel, and Tessa feels the weight of memories return. There’s the memory of the first Christmas, after she knew who she was. After she discovered about her powers.

There had been a moment in the Dark Sisters’ house when she had lost all hope. When she thought she’d never see another Christmas again. When she had thought of death to be a sweeter mercy than being forced to Change over and over again. She can still hear the phantom voice of Mrs Black, calling her, forcing her through the Change as every single bone in her body stretches and bends, taunting her through the pain. Tessa winces at the phantom feeling in the back of her mind, nagging at her.

“Tess?”

Midnight blue eyes pop up in her view, and the gentlest of touches on her shoulder, grounding her. Tessa takes a sharp breath, and let the chill in the air bring her back to the present.

“Tessa? Are you okay?” The concern in Will’s voice is almost as physical a touch as his fingertips as Tessa feels him cradling her face. “Tessa? Is everything okay?”

Tessa smiles, pushing down all the memories. It’s fine. She’s okay.

“Just memories,” she assures Will, and he gives her one of those sweet smiles he keeps aside for the times his loved ones need comfort, one of those smiles that make Tessa feel warm inside from the sheer amount of love in them.

“Memories hurt us in ways even iratzes can’t heal,” Will muses, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Will, I’m okay,” she assures him again, and she can feel Will relax under her fingertips. Will can and will turn the world upside down if it means Tessa would be alright. It’s a strange sensation, Tessa feels, to be at the centre of such a vivid force of will. To feel the intensity of it up close. To be part of the phenomenon that he is. But again, Will Herondale has never claimed to be anything other than an utterly unique phenomenon.

And if Will is lightening, bright, and fast, lighting everything around it, lighting up her very soul, Jem is right there, the calm after the storm, the cool breeze to soothe her soul, Tessa feels as she sees him walk towards them.

“Are you okay?” Jem asks her before turning to face his Parabatai, “She seemed a little worried, William.”

“It’s Christmas,” Tessa answers, her gaze out the window, watching the snow fall silently, gathering up on the courtyard of the institute. “Only fair the ghosts of Christmas past would visit.”

“I really hoped you wouldn’t say that, seeing how Jessie is giving you an unimpressed look right now,” Will snorts, his gaze fixed on a spot behind the pole near the gate, where the air seems to shimmer and flow a little differently.

“I really wish to see her one of these days,” Tessa wonders, “I want to thank her for being here, protecting us.”

“She already knows,” Jem’s voice is tender, a soft smile on his face, and Tessa twines her hand with his.

Will’s here. Jem’s here. All her children are here. Her family is with her. It’s a Merry Christmas indeed.

______________________________________

It’s been a long time since the three siblings have spent time together, just three of them. Mina has been busy learning spells after her Warlock powers started to show, and training with Cordelia and her writing has kept Lucie occupied. And ever since Jamie has become Parabatais with Matthew, the two of them have been inseparable, spending almost every waking moment together, and many of their asleep ones. Countless times Lucie has walked in the library to find Jamie sitting on the floor with a book by his side, fast asleep, with Matthew sleeping as well, his head in her brother’s lap. Being Parabatai essentially means spending one’s life together, but even with her Parabatai, Lucie doesn’t spend as much time as these two spend together. Yes, Cordelia and Lucie are Parabatai, but that doesn’t mean she sneaks in her bedroom in the middle of the night to hide from a possible duck attack!

Yes, that had been a rather unfortunate event, when Aunt Charlotte called her fathers the next day to explain exactly where their apparently missing son went. Dad had been perfectly understanding, classifying ducks as ‘higher level demons with a strong encanto-ing ability’, his words, not hers, and applauded Jamie on finding his Parabatai to hide behind instead of approaching them on his own. Papa had simply shaken his head, sighing loudly several times, and saying how apparently ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’, at which Dad had gasped dramatically. Several times.

And now she had to hatch a literal plan to break her brother and his Parabatai up so that the siblings could have a moment together. It’s Christmas for Angel’s sake! She shouldn’t have to ask her Parabatai to distract Matthew so that she can drag Jamie off, but here they are. Thank the Angel for Cordelia. Only she can be so patient and lovely with these idiots.

And now here they are, sitting on the steps of the institute, huddled together because she forgot to bring the coats in hurry. Yes Mina could easily summon one, but it’s better like this, the three of them sharing a blanket together.

“They look so happy,” Jamie comments. Lucie follows his eyes to find their parents, standing against the window, Dad leaning against the windowsill, Papa and Mum holding hands.

“They deserve to be happy,” Mina smiles, “They’ve been through a lot in the years they’ve been alive. I mean, the clockwork creatures,” She shudders.

“And Papa’s illness,” Jamie muses, “And Dad’s curse. Well, his not-curse. And Mortmain. And the mystery of Mum’s birth.”

“By the Angel,” Lucie sighs, “Then again they wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for all these.”

“True,” Jamie nods, before turning to face Mina, “How is the apprenticeship going Min-min?”

“It’s not an apprenticeship, Jamie,” Mina rolls her eyes fondly, “Catarina is just helping me learn things that a Warlock might need to know.”

“So, an apprenticeship,” Jamie shrugs, prompting Mina to hit his arm playfully, before grinning wistfully.

“It’s going great actually! I learnt how to make a healing potion for werewolves the other day!”

“Aww look at my baby sister, the amazing Warlock!” Lucie coos, and Mina flushes.

“I’m not amazing, unlike Catarina, and I’m not even a baby, Luce!” Mina protests, “And, I- uh- can I ask you guys something?”

The urgency in her voice makes Lucie and James sit up, both of them sharing a look before nodding at her to continue.

“It’s something I can’t tell Mum, or Papa, because they’ll worry,” Mina smiles nervously, “And Dad would be furious at everyone else. So you can’t tell them either.”

“Okay,” Lucie nods, confused, “What is it, Min-min? Promise I won’t tell anyone.” Mina looks at Jamie.

“Promise,” Jamie gives a firm nod.

“It’s just- I was just wondering-” Mina’s voice barely above a whisper, “Do you- do you think that maybe- maybe Mum shouldn’t have had me?”

“What?!” Lucie almost shrieks, “Mina! Of course not!”

“Mina,” Jamie moves closer to her, “We love you. Mum, Dad and Papa love you too. More than anyone else. Why did you think this? Did anyone say anything?”

“No, it’s not that,” Mina fidgets with the seam of her gown, “It’s just, I’m a Warlock. And- and- it can’t be easy, for Papa and Dad, to have a Warlock child, right? You two are Shadowhunters, like them, I just- I just wish I were a Shadowhunter too.”

“Oh Mina,” Lucie pulls her in for a hug, “You are a Warlock, one of the most powerful to ever exist, Magnus said so himself. And they don’t care if you’re a Warlock or a Shadowhunter. They care if you’re a good person. And you’re the best of the best, Mina.”

“I know they don’t,” Mina answers, “It’s just, it’s bad enough that people say stuff about Mum being a Warlock. And she doesn’t even practice magic yet! I just thought it might’ve been easier for them to have all Shadowhunter children, and not a Warlock daughter who has actually, actively, taken up magic.”

“I uh- I know what you mean,” Jamie says, his voice low. “I’m always nervous that I might turn into shadow during a fight and Matthew will be hurt. I remember everyone gossiping at the academy that our Parabatai ceremony would be a disaster, because of, well because of my power.”

“Exactly,” Mina gives him a small smile, which Jamie returns.

“You know,” Lucie looks out to the gate, her gaze faraway, “I was so jealous of you, when we were little.” She turns to Jamie, “You could do this- this amazing thing, you could turn into literal shadows, and I remember wishing that I could do that too. Then one day, after I talked to Aunt Jessie, I got to my room, and I realized that I had these powers too. Different powers, but still something that made me like you, like my brother,” Lucie turns to face Mina, “And my sister. I remember I was so happy. I jumped up and down till my legs were sore.”

“You were happy?” Jamie asks, slightly amused.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Lucie smiles, “All my life I felt like I was the different one in the family. You have your powers, Mum and Mina are Warlocks, Papa and Dad have this weird bond other than the Parabatai bond that borders on magical.” Lucie sighs, “I was always the one without a power. I didn’t feel bad. I just felt, I don’t know. Different, I guess.”

“That’s why I started writing, you know,” Lucie looks back at the gate, “Papa composes music. You can turn into shadows. Mum and Min-min can do magic. Dad can make limericks. I thought, I can write. I can create a story. It might not be magic, but it’ll be mine.”

“But it is magic, Luce,” Mina’s voice is reverent, “What you write. You can create an entire world with words. You wrote your Parabatai a whole book! How many Shadowhunters have a Parabatai who created an entire world for them? Even our fathers can’t say that!”

Lucie smiles, and Jamie nods in agreement with Mina. “You know what Mum says, Lucie. Books have the power to change us. And you harnessed that power. I think that makes you the most magical of us all.”

“You all are magical you know,” a voice wafts in, like silk flowing through air, “In terms of literal magic.”

“Hello Aunt Jessie,” Lucie smiles at Jessamine’s floating form.

“Merry Christmas, Aunt Jessie,” Jamie adds.

“Aunt Jessie’s here?” Mina looks ahead, “Where is she?”

“She’s right in front of us,” Lucie comments.

“Ah,” Jessamine nods, “I forgot she doesn’t have Will’s gift. Wish her merry Christmas from me, will you?” Jessamine turns to leave, before turning back.

“You three are the living proof of what love can achieve, you know,” Jessamine’s shimmering form shifts in the air, as snow falls around her, “It’s rare, this sort of love. Not all of us are lucky enough to have it.” She looks melancholic, “So don’t doubt it. And don’t think that they would’ve been better off without you. Don’t ever do that again. And go inside, it’s snowing, and you only have a blanket.”

With that, Jessamine’s ghostly form melts into the air, and Mina gets up.

“Alright, let’s head inside,” Mina grins, “I think I can hear Dad singing the Demon Pox song again.”

“By the Angel!” Lucie shakes her head, “Not again.”

“Yes, he’s on the third line,” Mina’s grin melts into a smile, “Thank you. Both of you. I needed to talk about this.”

“Min-min,” Jamie looks up at her from his spot on the stairs, “You don’t need to thank us. We are your siblings. We are supposed to be the one you come to. Besides, these are the subjects that we are the only ones who can actually understand. You are welcome to talk to us anytime.”

“Yes, that goes without saying,” Lucie nods, “Well technically she can talk to me anytime. You, however, she can talk to if Matthew ever lets you go.”

As if on cue, Matthew runs out, a broken stele in his hand. Lucie grabs Mina and steps inside, just as Matthew puts his arm around Jamie’s shoulder, explaining how Church broke his stele. Jessamine notices them talking from afar, her heart heavy.

She often wonders how things might’ve been had she chosen differently. If she’d had children to spend Christmas with. But ever since these three had been born, those thoughts have been less and less frequent. More reasons to protect the institute, to make sure no malicious spirit gets in. These children have occupied a large part of her life. Maybe this is better. This way she can protect them a way she couldn’t have had she been alive. This way her past mistakes can be repented. This is her present now.

Ghosts of Christmas present, Jessamine thinks, before melting into the snowy air around her.

____________________________________

The institute has changed a lot since the years she has been here, Charlotte thinks. There are signs all around of the family Will, Tessa and Jem have made. A book on the mantle, a shawl on the back of a chair with books on it as well, a violin lying in its case in its place in the drawing room, a stack of paper and ink on the drawing room table, most probably Lucie’s, magic scrolls and grimoirs lying around with notes on them in the study, Henry’s previous laboratory turned into a small workspace for a Warlock-in-training, the library now having a large sofa to go with the high-backs chairs.

It’s cozy. It’s family.

Family is what Charlotte thinks when she notices Jamie on the look-out as Matthew grabs gingerbread cookies and shoves them in the bag in his hand to smuggle out, as if all the adults in the room don’t know that the two of them are going to head to the roof, sitting in companionable silence, Matthew with his cookies, and Jamie with a book.

Family is what her mind supplies when she sees Henry and Christopher’s dinner getting cold as they talk animatedly about their latest idea of invention, a liquid that can melt demon skin. Over the years, Christopher and Henry have become practically inseparable every time they meet. Matthew often jokes that Christopher was born in the wrong year, or else he could’ve been Henry’s Parabatai.

She smiles fondly at her husband, lost in his world. Turning around, she notices Gideon and Gabriel laugh as they fight over the last piece of chocolate cake, both of them back to being children again as they list the reasons each of them should have it. She knows the pain the brothers went through after the incident with their father, and it’s wonderful every time she sees them smile. They deserve it, after everything.

She notices Sophie and Tessa smile and talk about Bridget’s still depressing songs, standing in front of the fireplace. After her Ascension, Sophie had chosen Tessa to be her Suggenes when she got married to Gideon, and the two of them have gotten even closer over the years. Charlotte feels her heartstrings tug when she remembers the first time she saw Sophie, her face bloody, sitting with her forehead on her knees. She’s glad that Sophie has found love, and her children wonderful.

Barbara and Eugenia are spitting images of their mother, equally beautiful and kind. The image of them, standing beside the Christmas tree, smiling softly at their cousins’ antics, is a welcome sight.

Anna is talking to Cecily about her brother Alexander’s travel year, and how he’s spending it in the Paris institute, looking impeccable in her cobalt blue suit. When Charlotte had first seen Anna in one of her suits, it had been shocking, but not unwelcome. It was still Anna, after all. The clothes don’t dictate the person. She can be whoever she chooses to be. But she worries the world might not be open enough for her. Charlotte is glad that Anna has Cecily for her mother, because Cecily is the mother Anna needs, someone who cares about her happiness, over traditions and rules of society, unlike most Shadowhunters.

Herondales. Always surprising everyone with their seemingly depthless ocean of love.

Charlotte feels a touch on her shoulder, and turns around to see Henry in his wheelchair, bringing her a glass of champagne.

“Merry Christmas, Lottie.”

“Merry Christmas, Darling.”

Charlotte hears Thomas talk to Will behind her, before Henry asks her to accompany him to the library.

“Uncle Will, can I ask you something?”

“Thomas, my boy,” Will smiles heartily, a light flush from the several glasses of eggnog and champagne staining his cheeks, “Ask away.”

“It’s about Alastair. Will you help me?”

“Of course I will. Just tell me what you need.” Will smiles, before groaning, “How did a sweet boy like you fall for him though?”

“I mean, I fell for you,” Jem shrugs, his eyes sparkling with humour. Will lets out a gasp.

“Betrayed! By my Parabatai! ‘Entreat me not to leave thee’, he said! Now he mocks me!”

“I see you’re still dramatic as usual.”

“Magnus!” Will turns around to face the sparkly Warlock, “You came!”

“Of course. I got your message, and I was visiting Ragnor anyway. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Magnus,” Will says, hugging him, as Jem shares a fond smile.

“Magnus! You’re here!” Tessa walks up to Magnus, who hands her a bottle of wine.

“Merry Christmas, Tessa.” Magnus smiles and hugs her, noticing her wonderful wise grey eyes, and the seeming cascading brown hair in a beautiful plait around her neck. Tessa ushers him to the food to get him a glass of eggnog.

Magnus notices Jem walk up to her, and whisper something in her ears, and Tessa laughs, her head thrown back. Will is cutting up the pie for his daughters and himself, smiling as they both wait excitedly for him to serve them. The entire institute is filled with people who are a big family together, who have been there for each other through thick and thin. These are the Shadowhunters Magnus felt a true kinship with, for the first time. But as he notices the two generations of Herondale-Carstairs, Lightwoods, and Fairchild-Branwells, Magnus can’t help but feel his heart ache for the days to come. After all, in a few decades, Tessa would be the only one remaining, Mina her reminder of the loves of her life. And she is going to need his help and friendship. And he would offer her that, unconditionally.

Till then, ghost of Christmas future is going to have to wait. Magnus has a party to enjoy.

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beerecordings · 5 years

Note

“You think you know what pain is?” Henrik to Anti. ;)

okay… I am proud to report…. I have this done.

Bee why did it take you so long??? CAUSE I WAS OBSESSED WITH IT FOR WEEKS OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS STORY. look it is unpolished AF alright maybe the most unpolished fic i’ve ever posted but that is okay cause i love it and I’m proud of it and if i want to clean it up later i can! also! you should know it is very long! so buckle up if’n you want to read it!

can you believe i wanted to have this done for schneep week i’m so late… but i loved writing it. thank you for requesting nikkil!!

Warnings for major abuse, blood and torture, pneumonia, and hypnosis with mild sexual themes (Anti kisses, strokes, at one point runs his hand over Jameson’s stomach. That’s the worst of it but no read if it will be too creepy)

Since writing this, I used it to create a story-blog about a variation of these characters (though this scene is not canon to that universe) called @my-brothers-corrupted. Feel free to check it out.

The Missing Piece

Citylights rush like wind across the glass of the window, casting him,intermittently, in gold and in darkness.

Doktorstares down at his feet.

Thedirty silver floor of the bus rattles against his torn up dress shoesas he shuffles uncomfortably, trying not to let his shoulder brushagainst that of the sleeping stranger at his side. Above the smell ofsweat and someone’s heavy magnolia perfume, the smoke of the citycurls around him in a gasoline purr, staining his mouth with thetaste of engines and fast food, dripping down his throat to sit inhis lungs, in his chest, near to his slow-moving heart.

Hewishes he had the strength to be annoyed.

Mosteveryone on the bus is silent, pressed against the backs of theirchairs or the cool, vibrating window panes, worn into quietude bylong days and long journeys. It’s late and everyone would rather beat home, asleep.

Doktorwishes he could sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.Sleep and sleep and not wake up again.

Themissing piece is the only one who seems to have any energy.

Glancingacross the aisle, Doktor’s eyes land on the boy’s black dress shoes,tapping rapidly against the floor. Higher up, he sees his worn handsgripping hard at the thighs of his slacks, clenching and unclenchinghis fists around the soft fabric. There is blood on his whitebutton-up shirt, but it is dark enough that no one has noticed. Smallmercies.

Jamesoncoughs frailly. His head is still but his eyes flicker wildly aroundthe bus, like the rolling pupils of a horse trapped in a house onfire. Henrik supposes he’s looking for help. For comfort. Foranything and anyone to save him.

Poorthing.

Jamesoncoughs again, a little louder. Doktor realizes he is doing it onpurpose, trying to attract attention to himself. Not easy with aguard dog at your side. Doktor shoots him a warning glare and thensits back, trying not to look at him.

Buthis hands are making a small sign, over and over again, shaking butdetermined, stiff but desperate –

“S,”signs Jameson, his mouth quivering. “C. H – ”

Ahand shoots out to snatch his wrist and Jameson jumps hard, curlingback against the seat of the chair, his face losing color in therapid-passing shadows of the city rushing past.

Redsqueezes the missing piece’s wrist so hard Doktor knows it willbruise black. Then he leans in, close enough that his hood brushesagainst Jameson’s downy brown hair, and he whispers – in words onlyheard by his brothers – with a voice so harsh as to cut the ear –

“Youso much as lift a finger and I will deliver your corpse to thedumpster personally.”

Thelight of a nearby casino rushes over the bus. Jameson’s tears areilluminated in gold.

“AmI understood?”

“Yes,”knocks Jameson, biting hard on his lip.

Redlets him go in silence and sits back.

Doktorsits back too.

Theyare just passengers like everyone else.

Amemory flashes across him the same way the lights do, here and thenleft behind in an instant.

Heremembers, with a nauseating effort of the will, a happier day, withJameson perched at his side just the same. His face was full of joyand he was smiling at him, his hands moving in rapid words now lessthan half-remembered. Their train raced past little white sheep inlittle green pastures, and Jameson spent half the trip staring at thewindow, slumping back occasionally to rest against Doktor’s shoulder.He was as warm as an engine against him, healthy, whole, andunharmed. He called him by a name Doktor can no longer recall.

Hecan’t remember where they were going or why. But he seems to rememberthat joy.

Thedarkness swallows him whole again. He closes his eyes and tries toforget.

It’seasier, these days, to obey.

It’seasier not to remember.

Thisis a time of pain.

Steppinginto the reach of the monster is a relief so heavy it is bettercompared to opium than home-coming. Outside Anti’s power there isconfusion, fear, guilt, and doubt above all else. Within it?

Doktorsteps across the thresh-hold of the abandoned house where they havetaken refuge and breathes in deep, shuddering hard as the darknesssteals back inside of him.

Bliss,bliss, bliss, bliss, bliss –

Hewishes he could spend every second of the rest of his life in thevery heart of Anti��s control, mindlessly numb, overwhelminglycontent, but unfortunately there is only so far his master canstretch, and so whenever he is sent away on missions like this one,he does his best to return home quickly.

Jamesonseems less relieved to enter the run-down little house. His wide eyesstare at the room around him, flickering over squirming rats andpatches of white mold patterned along the walls, until at last hisgaze lands on Trickshot, and he stiffens as though impaled.

Trickstares right back.

“Holyshit,” he whispers, and then his mouth breaks into a smile coldenough to re-freeze icebergs. “You found the little mouse. Donerunning, bitch?”

Jamesonflinches, turning his gaze away. Trickshot gets to his feet,approaching easily and grabbing JJ’s chin, lifting his face up to thelight.

“C?”signs Jameson frantically, forgetting his guardian for a moment.“What’s happened to – ”

Redsnatches his hands and yanks him towards his chest, throwing him offbalance and then shoving him hard to the ground, where nails and anundrying moisture found perpetually on the wooden slats of the floorpress against his palms. Jameson, mouth open with pain, gasps andcrawls backwards, clutching at the wounds from the fight –

Trickshotgrabs the boy by the back of his shirt and drags him to his feet.

Punishedfor speaking, Jameson makes good use of his large eyes instead,staring at what was once his brother with an undeniably agonizeddesperation in his eyes, reaching out to cling to the soft fabric ofthe torn grey shirt Trickshot wears.

“Getthe fuck off me,” snaps Trick in a voice so thin he can barely beheard, shoving his hands away. He decides to grip his hair instead ofhis shirt and Jameson scrambles as the pressure on his scalp pullshim onto his tip-toes, his face contorting with pain.

“Poorlittle thing,” purrs Trick in a babying voice, still rasping fromhis purple-bruised throat, using his spare hand to grab Jameson’schin and tilt his head up to what little light comes from theflickering overhead. “You beat him to hell, Hoodie!”

Theirony of this is that Trick is hardly better off himself. For everybruise, broken bone, and cut that Jameson’s body took tonight, thereis at least one match on Trickshot’s skin. His master has not beenkind to him. When it comes to a hierarchy, they all know whereTrickshot falls – the very bottom of the pack.

Tricktries to lift Jameson off his feet, but a sudden bout of coughingforces him to let his brother go. He doubles over, shaking handsclutching at his aching chest, and coughs so deep and so hard that itsounds as though pieces of bone are being shaken off his ribs.

Doktorwatches wearily, a little irritated. One more sickness he’s going tobe expected to fix. Red reaches over to smack the back of his head.“Do something, Deutsch!”

Yelping,Doktor grabs his smarting skull and staggers away, well wary of Red’stemper. “No medicine,” he whispers, scuffing his way towards theother room.

“Oh,that’s your fucking excuse? You’re supposed to be a doctor!”

Doktorhides his face in his hands, cowering against the wall, but all Reddoes is roll his eyes and turn away, shoving Trick to the side. Heheads toward the stairs, his victory only barely soured by hisbrothers’ stupidity. “Master, I found him!” he calls, smiling ashe moves down, down into the darkness of the basement. “I broughthim back for you!”

Removinghis hands from his eyes, Doktor turns to see if Jameson is afraid,but there is nothing in his eyes but worry. He’s helping Trickshot tostay standing, rubbing warmly at his chest. Trick does not have thestrength to push him away.

Andthen the darkness is upon them.

Jamesonwhirls wildly, his fighter’s hands out-stretched. Doktor catchessight of Trickshot staggering away, retreating from Anti’s attention.He knows it would be safer for him to run too, but he needs Antiright now – needs something to extinguish these thoughts in hishead – pity and guilt and concern, all useless remnants of a timewhen Jack was the one who pulled his strings.

Heneeds Anti to make his brain stop asking his mouth to say, Jameson,I’m sorry, run, now, while there’s still time –

“Arzt,”calls Anti’s voice, a whisper that echoes from every side, and Doktorjumps to attention, staring around him. “Bring my new little puppydown here.”

Jamesondoesn’t turn to run fast enough. Doktor’s grip on his wrist is tightas a blood pressure cuff.

“H-E-N-R,”he begs, and Doktor grabs his other hand and begins yanking himtowards the basement, dragging him across cold cement and oldbloodstains.

“Doctor,doctor, doctor,” signs Jamie again and again, using what littlemobility his hands have. He has begun to cry. Doktor will not look athim. Cannot look at him. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, brother,brother.”

“Child,be silent,” Doktor whispers.

Henever does anything more than whisper these days.

“Youwill only make this harder.”

Hedrags Jameson down to his master.

“Wereyou a good boy?”

“Iwas such a good boy,” Red swears, collapsed against Anti’s chest,his eyes shining with adoration. “I was so, so good. I brought himback to you, right back to you.”

“Yeah,you took good care of me.”

“Itook good care of you, you’ll be safe now. All the threats are gone.”

Red’seyes well with tears and he chokes, so overwhelmed with love that fora moment he cannot breathe at all. He shudders and puts his head downon Anti’s shoulder, stroking a hand through his hair. “I was nevergoing to let anything hurt you,” he promises, a sacred whisper.

“Iknow,” Anti soothes, running the flat edge of his blade alongJackie’s throat. “I know you weren’t, good boy.”

“Littlebrother,” hums Hoodie, daring to plant a kiss on Anti’s cheek.“Little brother. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Iwant to ask you something.”

“Yes,Anti.”

“What’sthe boy’s name?”

“JamesonJackson, Anti.”

“Jackson,do you like that?”

“Um,I don’t know. Do I?”

“Isthere anything you could shorten that to?”

“LikeJack?”

“Yeah,you could shorten it to Jack. Or maybe Jackie, would that be good?”

“Doyou want me to call him Jackie?”

Antigrins, dark and sweet.

Victorytastes like blood.

“No,sweetheart,” he purrs, pinching Red’s cheek. “Just wanted tocheck if that meant anything to you. You did so well today. You canhave something to eat tonight. Alright, time’s up. Get up. Good boy.Go sit with kitty for a minute.”

Simmeringwith pride, Red makes his way to the corner of the room and sits downat Blue’s side. The cat is sleeping, chained tightly to the wall, tooexhausted to wake up even for a newcomer. Red curls up fondly at hisside, playing with a length of his brother’s hair.

“Doc,”calls Anti warmly. “You come here.”

Doktorstartles, turning to look at Anti, adorned in blood on his throne, arotting wood chair in the basement. At his feet, Jameson Jackson isso unconscious Doktor cannot see his chest moving for air.

Antiattacked him like a shark in a frenzy.

Heldhim up in front of Doktor and Red and Blue one at a time and askedhim, mocking, which one of his big brothers would be the one to savehim now.

Promisedhim that it would be only a few days before he, too, was swallowedwhole by Anti’s power, begging like an animal for attention andaffection.

Beathim until his whole face was slicked in blood and bruises.

ButJameson did not beg or cry or complain. He took it with courage.Doktor remembers, very distantly, a time when he was more courageoustoo. Someone was torturing him, he remembers, but he tried so hardnot to give in. The details are slipping away from him.

“Deutsch,”calls Anti, a warning in his voice now. He does not like to wait.

Doktorhurries to his side.

“Howabout you?” he asks, getting up from his throne. He steps overJameson’s fingers. Doktor winces at a cracking sound. “Were you agood boy today?”

Whitewith terror and relief – Doktor does not know how he can besimultaneously so happy and so scared to see someone – he manages asmall nod, trying to smile.

“Youbrought the missing piece back to me, didn’t you?”

Anothernod. He can’t breathe. He wants to drown. With shaking hands, hereaches out, desperate for some comfort.

“Youdid well,” murmurs Anti, and takes him in his arms.

It’slike crashing into a river when you don’t know how to swim. But thewater is warm and he is little more than a corpse in its grip,sliding forward in Anti’s hands, a low groan trembling its way out ofhis mouth.

“Idid well,” he whispers. “I did, I did, I did…”

Henearly trips over Jameson and his eyes flicker down over his body,his poor face shattered into bone and blood, an agony written uponhis silent mouth even in sleep, and he is small and thin and so veryworn, still injured from the battle with Red, which must have hurthim in more ways than one –

“Doktor.”Anti has his mouth close to his ear, holding him tight. “You focuson me. Focus on master, there’s my good boy. You like being here withme?”

Doktorsways in place, swallowed by a wave of dizziness. “Yes, of course.”

Antitakes his chin gently in his hand and lifts up his head. Deutschmeets his gaze and shudders, and then smiles, his eyes glazing over.

Anti’seyes are dark and endless, colder than the stomach of the ocean,deeper than philosophy. Doktor chokes, collapsing against him,gripping at his brother’s shirt.

Theday is slipping away from them. What did he even do all day? Wherewas he?

“Closeyour eyes,” whispers Anti.

Doktorobeys. He always obeys. There is no other way to live. Just drowning.Just drowning. Anti curls his fingers through the hair of his nape ofhis neck. Yanks just hard enough to hurt, but Doktor doesn’t careanymore.

“Oh,I’m so tired,” Doktor whispers.

“Iknow.”

“You’rethe only thing I care about.”

“Iknow, baby.” It tooks him months to perfect this, but it’s done.Doc was his, and then the others, and now – oh, and now, his lastlittle missing piece. Jameson will be his too, soon enough, soonenough. “But listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes,Anti, anything.”

“Red,you listen too.”

Redjoins Doktor at Anti’s side. Jealousy stings through them both, butthey’ll bottle up the anger for later, taking it out on each other inunexpected blows and stitches tugged too tight.

“Ineed time with my new puppy. He has to be broken in. You two willkeep things running while I work. Okay?”

“Yes,Anti,” they promise in sync.

“Red,anyone gets too close or too suspicious, you’re the one who takescare of it, alright? Doc, I want you to clean this little bitch up atthe end of the day when I’m done with him. And get rid of Trickshot’sfucking cough. If I have to hear him wheezing anymore I’ll go chophis head off.”

“Yes,Anti.”

“Good,then. Kitty cat, go with your brothers, you’re boring me.”

Blueopens pained eyes and drags himself to his feet. There is blood inhis hair. Doktor doesn’t remember who attacked him. Red takes hisbrother under his arm and leads him towards the stairs, pausing togive Anti a winning smile.

Hashe always had those scars, scattered like cross-hatching across hisface? Doc doesn’t think so, but he can never remember anymore. He cannever remember anything.

Forjust a second, he sees as though before his eyes Red and Blue inanother life, both smiling like twins, healthy and whole, unscarredand reaching out to him, the third star in their triangulum, a littlefamily, completely whole.

Wasthere a time before Anti?

“Goon, Doc-Doc.”

“Yes,Anti. But are you sure… are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Antilooks up, anger flashing through his eyes. Doktor backs slowlytowards the wall, turning down his gaze.

Hedidn’t mean to question. It’s just that he’s a doctor. He’s supposedto look after his brothers.

AndAnti?

Antilooks exhausted to the core of his being.

Athis feet, blood is leaking from Jameson’s eyes.

“Can’tbelieve this,” grumbles Red, pacing around the room. “Can’tgoddamn believe this.”

“Justgive it to me,” rasps Doktor. “No use complaining.”

Fuming,Red hands over vaporub and cough medicine and stalks away again. Thedull light of the paneless windows cast him in a cold evening light.

“Idon’t feel good,” moans Trickshot, writhing with fever in Doktor’slap. “I don’t feel good, I don’t feel good, I don’t feel – ”

“Hush,”orders Doktor harshly, shaking his shoulders. “Hush, you will annoyAnti.”

Trickwhimpers and falls into silence, but his rough breaths are scratchingtheir painful way up from a chest that is heavy with infection.

“Thisis pathetic,” gripes Red, glaring down at his little brother. “Hecan’t keep getting sick like this. We could have spent that money onfood if he wasn’t such a little bitch.”

“Ican’t handle pneumonia without better equipment. He needs to go tothe hospital,” mumbles Doktor, wetting someone’s spare t-shirt withwhat little water they have and pressing it to his forehead, openingup the chest rub with his free hand.

“Shutthe fuck up,” snaps Red. “You know we can’t do that. Keep himalive.”

Doktorcloses his eyes, rocking gently back and forth over Trickshot’s body.He stopped screaming or weeping or breaking down a long time ago, andnow he just shivers and rocks and hides his face when he needscomfort, understanding that none will come.

Redand Trick tell him he’s losing his mind. But it’s better than livinglike they do, devolving into panic attacks on the daily, so desperatefor Anti’s attention that they can barely function without praise anddirect orders. And meanwhile, Blue…

Redgrits his teeth at the low sound of skin grating against wood. “Blue,cut it out,” he growls, stalking over to drag his brother’s wristsaway from the sharpest piece of rotting wall he can find in thehouse. Blue’s collar jangles as Red pulls him to his feet and moveshim away. “You can’t even kill yourself properly, can you, kitty?Hey, hey, come on, look me in the eyes, you can do it.”

“Don’tmake him,” sighs Doktor, rubbing Trickshot’s chest slowly. Hisbrother stills under his hands, mumbling Anti’s name in what could bedreams or nightmares.

Redsighs and sits down with Blue slumped against his shoulder, strokinghis hair absent-mindedly. Blue doesn’t respond. Blue never respondsanymore.

“Youshould be more concerned about Trickshot,” whispers Doktor, in arare show of defiance. “He’s not well.”

“Don’ttell me what to feel, Deutsch. Ask me, you’re both wastes of fuckingoxygen. Hey, maybe he will die! It could just be me and Blue andAnti… the kid too, I guess…”

Doktorshivers, clutching Trick closer to his chest. Sometimes he’s scaredRed will kill him. Then again, he knows better than anyone where hisweak spots are – the slash in his stomach that JJ gave him in theirfight, the pains in his back they never seem to go away, everytrigger to send him into babbling terror, his eyes blown wide withconfusion and distress, screaming about the memories he’s lost –

Well.He just hopes it doesn’t come to a fight.

Bluebegins coughing low, low in his chest, trembling against Red’sshoulder.

“Oh,not you too,” groans Red, squeezing him close. “Oh, oh, Anti willbe furious if his pet gets sick. Doktor, stop it. My twin…”

“I’mdoing my best with vaporub and cough drops,” growls Doktor, tryingto get some water into Trick’s mouth.

Downstairs,Anti begins shouting. All four of them flinch as one, and Trick’seyes flash open full of panic.

“I’msure he’s going to finish with Jameson soon,” says Red, with bothadoration and terror in his mouth. “Then he’ll be happier. He’sjust doing what’s best for him.”

“Anti,Anti,” cries Trick. Doktor doesn’t know if he’s calling for him orcalling for help. Blue has gone so stiff he could be a corpse,staring dead-eyed at the wall. If he thinks anything on his ownanymore, he doesn’t show it.

Thisis a house of pain.

Doktorstares at the pathway to the basement.

Thisis a house of pain.

Whydoes he stay?

Hisstrings are slipping.

Antigags on a wave of weakness and throws JJ hard to the earth, steppingdown on his throat and turning away, taking deep breaths while thelittle one chokes.

“Glitchbitch,” signs the boy, between useless attempts to shove the footoff his neck. “Bastard, monster, virus, asshole.”

“Stupidlittle puppy,” croons Anti, pressing down on his throat. “Stillacting like you can defy me.”

He’shad Jameson for three days. It’s going well with the missing piece.Everday Jameson slips closer to his control.

Butthe problem is he’s stretching himself too thin. Even the bestpuppet-master can only move so many toys at once. Corruption takespower. It takes energy. Anti is running out. But he just needs tobreak this last little creature, this last little puppet. Just onemore corruption. He will not fail now.

“Iwill defy you,” Jameson promises. Anti finally lets up on histhroat and he draws in huge gasping breaths, slumped against theconcrete.

“Youdo your brothers a disservice,” says Anti. “Don’t you know theysaid the same? And now, what are they? I will make a liar of you too,little doll.”

Thebasement is cold as gravestone. Anti is the heater in the middle ofit, radiating warmth too heavily without any of it transfering to theroom around him. The only way to share his heat is to be touched byhim.

Hetakes a deep breath. For once in his life he needs to keep his calm.He leans down and puts his hands on Jameson’s wrists, falling to hisknees to straddle his hips, pinning him down against the stingingcement.

Jamesonturns his face away but does not protest. He is losing strength witheach day that passes. Anti knows how weak to keep him to stop himfrom using his powers, cutting frequent blood out of his back andstriking his aching head several times a day. He has not slept oreaten and any attempt to change the course of time will destroy him.He’s considering it.

Themoments where Anti tries to drag him under have become warm relief inthe middle of the torture.

“Comehere, baby,” purrs Anti, stroking his knuckles over his cheekbone,running his fingers across his mouth. “Come here, look at master.”

Jamesontries to get his hands together so he can sign the “h” thatbegins the word “hatred.”

Antigrabs a knife and slams it into Jameson’s shoulder. Pain sends hiswhole body into spasms, his body contorting with agony, his eyesrolling back in his head, and he is losing consciousness fast.

“It’sokay,” whispers a soft voice, and he knows it is Anti, but it couldso damn easily be any one of his brothers, torn away from him, couldbe Marvin or Henrik or Jackie or Chase –

Heis crying so hard he cannot breathe. When was the last time anyonetouched him? All he’s done for months is run.

“It’sokay.” Anti is stroking his hair. Stroking his stomach. Strokinghis wrists. He’s been starving to be touched and Anti is wonderfullywarm, even if his nails are overgrown and his teeth are just a littletoo sharp and one of his eyes is venomously black, a single greeniris shining down on Jameson’s smoke-grey face. “I’m sorry, I knowthis is scary. But listen, you’re going to be with your brotherssoon, right? You’ve missed them. Haven’t you?”

Hehas, he has, he’s been so lonely, he nods –

“Iknow,” sighs Anti, putting a firm pressure on Jameson’s shoulders,making his collarbone ache. He smells of blood and sleep. “Iunderstand. I can see every part of you, you know. I understandeveryone and everything. It will be so easy, once you’re mine. I’lltake that pretty clock and tie you up like Marvin and you can be mylittle puppy. No one will ever hurt you again. You won’t have to feelanything but this.”

Andwarmth and joy and relief and love come crashing over Jameson like ahigh, come flowing down the folds of his brain, trickling down histongue and down his throat, and he is melting like a witch in water,sinking down into Anti’s power –

“Openyour eyes,” calls a voice, gentle, gentle. He is held, carried,carressed. “Just open your eyes for me. Be a good boy. It’s alleasy after this. It will feel so wonderful. Open your eyes, Carver.”

That’snot his fucking name.

Justlike Doktor isn’t Henrik’s and Red isn’t Jackie’s and Trickshot isn’tChase’s and Blue isn’t Marvin’s, damn the glitch who stole his familyaway from him!

Hejerks up and slams his elbow into Anti’s nose, sending blood gushingfrom the demon’s nose. Falling back, Anti lets out a horrible screamof rage, the sound that metal makes as it grinds together, and thenhe is up again, coming forward again, holding a knife again, and whatcan Jameson do but cower?

“Iwill teach you pain,” Anti snarls. His teeth are gritted tight andhe no longer looks human. He is warm. He is too warm. He burns. “Iam pain and you will know me better than you know yourself, and then,before this is over, you will be mine, and forget the taste of yourown name, puppet kid.”

Doktordreams of bloodshed and video games.

Heholds a warm little computer mouse, shifting it across a pad on awooden desk. Everything is bright and clear and clean. He feels welland there is coffee next to his hand.

Fromthe speakers, a recorded cough and a splutter. A spray of simulatedblood hits the other side of the screen and Doktor adjusts in hisseat, reaching out to click on a button to order a lung exam for thepatient.

“Don’tworry now,” he narrates to the computer character, smiling at theblinking red eye of a camera near to his head. “The good Doktorwill make everything better, you will see!”

Thecharacter coughs again. Doktor realizes the game has not reacted tohis order. “Gah,” he growls, throwing up a hand and clicking onthe button again. “Come on, dumb machine.”

Still,the game does not respond. The character coughs and then groans,doubling over for a moment, its face still drawn into an unmovingsmile, dead-eyed and cold.

“Gottverdammt,”hisses Doktor, clicking once, twice, thrice. How frustrating, to knowwhat needs to be done and be unable to do it.

“Stopcoughing,” he begs, as the character shivers. “I’m trying to fixit. I will not have you die.”

Thecharacter reaches up to touch its chin and then draws away again.Startled, Doktor recognizes the sign for “please.”

“I’mtrying,” he says. “I am, I’m trying. I’m doing my best. I’m doingwhat’s right. I am, I am.”

Heclicks the button. Clicks, clicks, clicks. Why won’t it goddamn load?

“Stopdying,” he cries, slamming the mouse against the computer. Thetaste of copper is filling up his own mouth. His chest aches. A waveof heat rushes over him like sunlight exploding over the earth in themorning light. “Please, I’m scared, don’t die.”

Heneeds to get out of the whole program – he should get out of thewhole program – but how can he leave his patient behind? The othersare too sick to run with him. He cannot go until he saves them. Hecannot lose them! The memory of joy is sudden and present in hismind, but only for an instant, and then it is swallowed whole againby this terrible pain, pain, pain –

“Please!Let me save him!” he screams, and the character, deaf to his cries,is begging “please, please, please” in return, coughing harderand harder and harder. Blood drizzles down the screen. Doktor reachesout to touch it and his fingers come away red now, perhaps not sosimulated after all. He strikes the side of the computer and shakesit and click, click, clicks, but nothing happens, nothing saves him.There is only the heat of the patient’s fever and the dry heaving ashe chokes on pneumonia, bent over, collapsing, and Doktor lashes outtoo suddenly and spills his coffee, only it is blood that pours downfrom the edge of the mug, filling up the room like a flood –

Hedoes not scream upon awakening. Only gags, and whimpers, and rocks inplace, tears drizzling down his face.

Trickshotis hot at his side, trembling, coughing, conscious. Across the room,Anti’s twins sleep side-by-side, hunger and fatigue making themghostly in the moonlight, Blue touching Red with an out-stretchedhand abandoned on his shoulder.

“Trick?”whispers Doktor, trying to ground himself again, trying to banish thedream. He would call it a nightmare but he’s had far worse. “Trick,why are you awake?”

It’sstill dark out. It often is. Doktor guesses it is around three.

“Whatdid you dream of?” mumbles Trickshot, staring up at him withover-bright eyes. “Something nice?”

Hesmiles a little flicker of a smile, his mouth trembling.

Doktorsighs, calming. Just a bad dream, right? He’s not stuck. He’s notfrozen. He can take care of his patients. “Should not speak of it,”he tells him, pulling him straighter up, to help him breathe.Coughing must be keeping him awake. “You are weak. Go back tosleep.”

“I– I feel very weak,” concedes Trickshot. He sniffles and tearscome running out of his eyes. Doktor presses a hand to his foreheadand finds him burning. “Do you think Anti will let me die? Do youthink he will kill me? Did you dream of something nice?”

“Stop,Trick, stop, stop.” Doktor smooths down a bandage hanging off hischeek from where somebody struck him hard enough to break flesh.“You’re delirious. Don’t upset yourself. Go back to sleep.”

“Something– b-bright and lovely, maybe something where you were happy, didyou dream of – did you dream of something – ”

Hebegins coughing and must clutch at his heart, curling in on himself,agony coursing through his body. “Did you dream of something nice?”he stammers out, wheezing, working himself swiftly towards a completebreakdown. “Did you dream of – ”

“Trick,stop!” snarls Doktor, grabbing him by the throat in a sudden flashof fury. Trick gags and whimpers, collapsing against the floor,shivering in the cold night air.

Doktorreleases his throat, a rare twinge of guilt making itself known inhis stomach. As apology, he reaches out and touches the side ofTrick’s head awkwardly, frowning down at his blueing mouth. “Youreally are so sick,” he whispers, brushing down a strand of hissweaty hair. “Poor thing.”

“Don’tfeel good.”

“Iknow. Why don’t you tell me what you dreamed of, huh? I don’t want totalk about my dreams but you can. Did you dream of something nice?”

Trickshotpauses, biting his lip, and then nods, tears welling again in hisbright blue eyes. “A baby,” he whispers.

“Ababy?”

“Alittle dark-haired baby, so, so warm, so, so beautiful, and I washolding him and I reached out and he wrapped his tiny little handaround my finger and fell asleep in my arms.”

Doktordidn’t mean to make him cry. Trickshot devolves into sobbing againsthis brother’s stomach, shaking with fever and grief alike.

“Quiet,quiet,” begs Doktor, gripping at his shoulder. “Don’t disturbhim, don’t make him angry.”

“Mybaby,” gasps Chase, growing closer to death. “I want my babies, Iwant my baby, where is he, where is he, where is he?”

“Stop,stop, don’t say such things, Anti will kill you.”

“Antiwill not give me my child back,” weeps Chase. “Not even thememory of him, not even his name. I can’t remember my baby.”

“Trick,”says Doktor. “Trick.”

Andthen there is the static warning of their brother’s appearance, andthey both stiffen like scarecrows, curling in on each other as theywait for him to turn shadows into form.

Glitchessplit the air around them and Trickshot pretends to be asleep againstDoktor’s stomach, near to passing out anyway. Cold static ringsthrough the air like a tornado warning.

“Cleanhim up.”

Antiis standing behind him so suddenly that Doktor nearly gasps aloud,rocking faster and faster. “C-clean Trickshot up?”

“No,you stupid little bitch,” snarls Anti. He grabs him by the hair andDoktor gasps hard enough to hurt the back of his throat, staggeringupright. “Jameson. In the room on the other side of the house. Go.Let him die and you cannot imagine the pain I will inflict upon you,am I understood? Darling?”

“Yes,Anti.”

“Go.”

Hereleases him and disappears back into the shadow.

Tricklies at his feet, trying not to cough. Blood stains the corner of hismouth.

Doktorreaches down to touch him – but no, he cannot care for him, notnow. He must go the missing piece.

Panting,he abandons Trick to his coughing and heads towards the spare room.They think it used to be a kitchen once, before the house was halfwaydemolished and then abandoned, but now there is nothing but missingtile and cockroaches and one drawer full of knives in the corner.There certainly isn’t any food.

Jamesonis chained to the porcelain body of what might have been a sink. Heslumps back against the clay, his chin fallen onto his chest. He isbreathing, but only slow, only thin.

Doktorapproaches.

Litteredwith wounds, frail as a broken-wing bird. He coughs. Doktor cleansgashes and stitches them back together, wipes away blood and wraps upbruises, relocates a broken wrist and makes the boy scream, his eyesrolling back in his head as he staggers about between consciousnessand shadow.

Hecoughs.

Doktorreaches out to touch his cheek.

Hecoughs.

Doktorswallows back memories of him.

Bright-eyedbrothers moving like light through a window, clean whole faces andthe steady rising and falling of the breast, a smile on the boy’sunspeaking mouth –

Hecoughs.

Doktorburies his face in his hands and rocks, rocks, rocks, cries until hecannot breathe either; listens, despairing, to the coughing of hisbrothers, scattered like weapons cast aside through Anti’s house.

Howcan this be worth it?

Howcan this pain be worth it?

Fromthe darkness, Anti is watching.

Doktorwas the first one to lose the fight to his power, and now he is thefirst to feel the strings loosening about his throat. Something mustbe done.

Buthe is too tired to drag Henrik back under.

“Givein.”

“Iwon’t.”

Bloodsplurts from Jameson’s throat. His mouth jerks open in a horriblesilent scream and he writhes in Anti’s grip, tearing at the handsaround his neck.

“Isthat the best you can do?” laughs Anti. He lets Jameson go, his armgrowing tired from holding him up, and the boy collapses like a pileof flesh. “Really, no sound at all? Can’t you wheeze or something?I’m bored.”

“Bitch,”signs Jameson. He rolls back and forth against the ground slightly,trying to work through the pain, trying to stop crying. He doesn’tknow how much more of this he can take.

“I’mabout to cut your hands off if you don’t watch your tongue,” Antiwarns, sitting down beside him and drawing his head into his lap.“Come on, can’t you whine or something?”

Jamesonis bewildered on top of irritated now. “What the fuck do you expectme to do? Regrow my vocal chords? I can’t vocalize.”

“Maybeyou’re not trying hard enough,” grins Anti.

Exhausted,exasperated, pissed, Jameson holds up his middle finger and lets thatspeak for him.

Antihums and leans in close. Jameson shivers as he’s kissed, Anti’s mouthrunning feather-light across the stubble on his jawline.

“Getoff me,” Jameson begs, trying to push him away. “Please.”

“That’sbetter,” murmurs Anti. “Good job, puppy. Hold still and you cango in a minute.”

Hekisses his cheek, beneath his eye. His mouth is hot.

“Getoff me!” cries Jameson. Oh, fuck, suddenly he’s so dizzy. “Getoff, I hate you.”

Antipulls gently at his shirt, exposing his stomach. Jameson squirms,frightened, but with one hand Anti can hold him steady. The otherhand runs over his belly.

Thena knife, cold, cold, cold against his stomach.

Antisighs against the base of his ear.

Andthen he jams his thinnest blade like a key between the perfect slotof his seventh and eighth ribs.

Thenoise that Jameson makes –

Thenoise, a braying little gasp, a broken little screech from somewherein his lungs rather than his vocal chords, a choke combined with themovement that should make a scream, is not a noise that Anti realizedhuman beings could make.

Antiwishes he had recorded it. He could play that on a loop and destroycivilizations with the high it gives him.

He’slaughing so hard it hurts to breathe.

“Doktor!”he calls, shoving Jameson off his throat. The boy shudders againstthe floor, slamming his head against the cement as his body overtakeshis brain, far more conscious than he’d like to be. “You’re goingto have to bandage this up for us, darling.”

Notlong now. Not long.

“Please.”

“Shutup.”

“Please,please, H-E-N - ”

Doktorshoves him hard back against the porcelain sink to which he is onceagain chained. Jameson gags, weeping. “Brother,” he cries,undeterred. “Why won’t you save me?”

“God,please!” Henrik screams. “Stop, stop, I can’t take this!”

“Pleasehelp me, please help me, I’m scared, I’m scared, soon he will make mehis, I can’t take any more, please save me, I love you.”

Henrikscreams and tears at his hair, falling back. He’s been cleaningJameson up every night for a week. They are both reaching breakingpoints.

“Deutsch!”cries a voice from downstairs. Red, he thinks. “Blue can’tbreathe!”

“Sithim upright!” he calls back, trying to raise his voice above arasp. He tries to push himself back up to kneeling and a nail thatonce held floorboard pierces his palm, making him gasp.

“It’snot working!” Red cries. “It’s not enough!”

“Doyou think I’m hiding oxygen up here?” Doktor shrieks. “What doyou want me to do?”

Redis weeping. It’s a new sound for Doktor, but he doesn’t have time tocare. Blue and Trick are just getting sicker, and Carver’s going toget an infection if he doesn’t bandage him up, and he never feelswell anymore, and nothing is right, nothing is right, nothing is –

Jamesoncan only reach his brother’s out-stretched hands. Teary-eyed, whiteas smoke, he grips Doktor’s wrist gently and rubs his thumb up anddown the veins at the heel of his hand.

“Stop,”says Doktor.

Hedoesn’t draw away.

Jamesontugs his hand closer and presses his forehead to it, massaging hispalm, holding him tight.

“Stop,”says Doktor.

Jamesonshivers and clings to each one of his fingers, examining the valleysand ridges of his swirling fingerprints. Brushes against his veinsfrom heel to thumb. Squeezes tight, tight, tight.

Doktorcan’t remember the last time anyway touched him gently.

“Stop,”he begs. “I can take no more.”

“Henrik,”says Jameson, releasing his hand to finally, finally make the namewhole. “Henrik, brother, help me. Let’s go. There’s still time.”

Thestrings are slipping. The strings are slipping. The strings areslipping.

Butthey are still tight enough.

“I’msorry, Jameson,” whispers Henrik.

“No,no,” begs Jamie. He tries to grab his hand again, but Henrik isdrawing away. “I need you to remember who you are.”

“I’msorry,” whispers Doktor. “I am. I’m sorry. But I am also Anti’s.You don’t understand what he would do to us if we tried to escape.There is no running away. He will haunt us for the rest of our days.Better to stay, and be good for him. I am Anti’s.”

Jamesoncurls in on himself like a child, wrapping his arms around himselfand hugging himself tight. He rocks against the sink, sobbing.

He’slost. He’s lost. It’s over.

“Soonyou will be too,” promises Doktor softly. “And then…”

Heknows he should say that things will be better.

Buthe can’t lie.

Thisis a life of pain.

Twilightmakes the floorboards grey and lilac. The air smells of dust, ofblood, of starvation.

Doktorsits slumped over Blue, staring, corpse-like, down at him, bleedingsluggishly from the palm of his hand as he tends to his brothers’illnesses.

“They’regoing to die, aren’t they?” whispers Red.

Inhis weakness, Trick has regained his favor, and both he and Blue areclose at hand, tucked up in the only blanket in the house, shiveringside-by-side, asleep. Trickshot wheezes with every breath.

Doktorcan’t even answer. He washes sweat from their foreheads and massagestheir chests with vaporub. Nothing else to fucking do.

“Ican’t – ” Red breaks off, covering his mouth, squeezing his eyestightly shut. “I can’t watch them die.”

Doktorhums a brief affirmation, staring blankly at Trickshot’s hollowedgrey cheeks. It’s a little too late for Red to start caring.

“Deutsch,”whispers Red. He touches Doktor’s hand.

Henrikjumps hard, turning to him with astonished eyes. Red’s hand is gentleon his own. There are tears in his eyes.

“Whatdo I need to do to save them?”

AndHenrik recognizes, suddenly, a light that he had forgotten evergraced Jackie’s eyes.

Aprotection in his outstretched hands, a courage in his stiffenedmouth, a light in his bright blue eyes.

“Holyshit,” whispers Henrik.

Doubt.Doubt. Rebellion. It sits between them, curled in the heat of theirfevering brothers and the wounds that litter the boy upstairs likeconstellations, in the memories that sift, slow, patient, throughtheir awakening hearts.

“Sauerstoff,”he manages, swallowing hard.

“What?”

“Oxygen,”he rasps.

“Wheredo I get that?”

“Youwill have to steal it. Once you stole computer code from the centerof a secret Ministry of Defense facility just so Anti could eludethem. You will be able to take oxygen from a hospital. Masks too,blankets, and medicine – bring me paper, I will write it all down.”

Whiteand silent with stress, Jackie brings him the torn wrapper of theirlast jug of water, and Henrik scratches names into it, recalling,with the smell of hand sanitizer in his nose, what it was to be areal healer.

“Youmust go quickly,” he murmurs, pressing the wrapper into Jackie’shand.

“Iknow,” Jackie answers, soft. “If I’m not back before Antirealizes I’m gone…”

Hewill kill him. The words stand silent in the air between them.

Henrikcan almost remember his name.

Henrikcan almost, almost remember his name.

“Doktor,”murmurs Jackie.

“Red,”Henrik answers, exhausted.

Hiseyes say go carefully and Jackie’s answer very well, as youwish, we were brothers once and in the memory I have forgotten thehatred he fostered within me.

Jackiesqueezes his hand, kisses both Blue and Trickshot goodbye, and goes.

Heknows he will be killed for the transgression of abandonment.

Buthis pain might be salvation, and the word “hero” rises once againin his mind, like a tattoo uncovered, impossibly forgotten,permanent, chosen, lasting.

Upstairs,Jameson grows weaker.

Thereisn’t much time left.

Antiwakes up.

Thisis unusual for him, having never actually lost consciousness before.His waking thoughts consist largely of what the fuck, what thefuck, what the fuck?

Didhe pass out?

He’sslumped downstairs on his little throne – hardly more than ablood-painted chair, but he loves it like a knife – and he doesn’tremember falling asleep.

He’sweak as a ball of cotton.

Panicrises in him like fire and he tries to get up, without success,panting hard. For a moment his whole body becomes as static, heavyand faraway. His tongue is leaden and stinging in his mouth and hishead collapses back against the wood of his chair, leaving himmotionless and terrified, fainted in his own throne room.

He’snever passed out before, he’s never been weak, he’s never used somuch energy, he didn’t realize he had a breaking point and he needsto stop –

No!screams the rest of his brain. The dizzy spell recedes as a wave fromthe ocean and he staggers to his feet, snarling at the world aroundhim, which continues to defy him. I won’t be stopped now! I’m sovery close. So very close to the perfect victory. Their stupidpersistence can’t stop me. I will hold all five of them at once,puppets from my hands.

Hespares a burst of pure hatred for his creator, who gave him justenough brothers to be a challenge.

Butnot enough to stop him. He will be victorious.

“Doktor!”he screams, dragging himself to the bottom of his staircase. Deutschappears shaking in the light above him, his eyes flashing quicklybetween all corners of the house. Anti can almost taste hisdisloyalty, but it does not matter. He must break his last littlecolt, and then he will reign in all five of his stallions, if ittakes every whip in the world. “Bring my the little brat,” hehisses, sinking back into the darkness. “We end this tonight, onceand for all.”

“Where,”whispers Anti, “Is your resistance now?”

Jamesonlies shivering. Jameson lies shaking.

“Ihave shattered it,” Anti tells him. He reaches down, slow, and runshis knuckles across Jameson’s cheek, scarred and blood-stained.

��Youwere not the one who shattered it,” Jameson answers, closing hiseyes.

Thedemon stands above him like a shadow, pierced by thin beams of lightforcing their way through the tiny windows at the tops of thebasement walls. Blue and green eyes coat Jameson in a unique form oflust, a power-hungry possession, a wolf that has gained a taste forhuman flesh.

“Youlove your brothers very much,” murmurs Anti. “After all they havedone to you.”

Hesits down, criss-cross, at Jameson’s side. Pulls him into his lap.Takes his hands into his own.

“Bemine,” he says. “And they will love you again too.”

“Isthis what you call love?” Jameson manages.

Heis slumping down against Anti’s shoulder, exhausted.

“Youdon’t know the first thing about love.”

“Whata pity,” Anti giggles, grabbing his wrists and pulling him evencloser. “I must be missing so much.”

Blood,blood on Jameson’s face.

“Poordapper darling, pretending to be strong. Your heart is broken andyou’ve been dying for a long time, running from me every day, runningfrom your family. Aren’t you tired?”

Jamesonis hiding against his chest. Tears soak Anti’s shirt.

“Poorthing,” whispers Anti, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I know.It hurts. I know. Poor, poor dapper.”

Careful,he reaches power out. Feels Jameson’s heart, racing with terror, soweak and so vulnerable.

Hewraps a string and breathes through a wave of dizziness.

Jameson’shands tighten on his shirt.

“Thereyou go,” whispers Anti, rubbing from his shoulder to the small ofhis back. “There you go, it’s okay. Stop crying so hard, littleone. Hush, hush. Here I am. Don’t be afraid.”

“Anti,”signs Jameson. Anti does not know what he is begging for and he doesnot care. His sign name is a slit throat ‘A’ and it makes him laugh.“Anti, please.”

“Lookat me,” Anti orders, taking his chin in his hand. “Look at menow.”

Jamesontries to hide, his eyelids fluttering. No, no, no…

“You’reso tired.” Anti’s fingers are soft, warm, loving against his faceand throat and hands. “So, so tired, poor little puppy.”

Andhe is, so, so exhausted, so tired it could kill him. All he wants inthe whole goddamn world is to lose himself in sleep, in power, inAnti…

“Lookat me,” says Anti. He hates him, he craves him, he owns him. “Lookat me, Carver, Dapper, Monochroma. Look at me.”

Jameson’seyes open. Dapper’s eyes meet his own.

Hot,rushing, overwhelming, terrifying, ecstatic, adoring, all-consuming,all-consuming, all-consuming; Carver gasps and sinks down in Anti’shands, reaching up to be held, an agony of possession writhingthrough his body as he collapses like a bird dead in the air andlanguishes in the dark, endless eyes of his older brother.

Antihas him.

Carverblinks, and closes his eyes, and sinks.

Sinkslike a mink sinks in the mouth of an alligator.

Downonto Anti’s lap.

Andwhen his brother traces his hands across his scalp, stroking gentlehis downy brown hair, he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Antihas him.

Joycrackles as a current of electricity through his body and Antismiles, letting himself curl down around Chroma’s body, pulling hisnew little puppet to him, running his hands over his flesh, tastingthe sweet copper taste of an implanted adoration, touching hisfingers to each one of the cuts he has spent the last two weekscutting into Dapper’s skin –

Aword of alarm flickers through his system. Anti sits up, his eyesfixed on the opening to the room.

Thereare footsteps coming towards him.

Hetries to get up, but dizziness pounds through his simulated skull andhe collapses back onto his throne, gripping at Carver’s shirt. Heover-exerted. Used too much power. He’s never been so tired in hislife. He could fall asleep right here, slumped over his littlebrother’s body, holding his new puppet close… his eyes flicker andglitch and he sways, drifting…

“Ican bear this no longer.”

Anti’seyes snap open.

Inthe doorway, Henrik.

NotDoktor.

Henrik.

Antican’t feel his hold over him.

Hetries anyway. “Go back upstairs, Deutsch.”

Dappershivers in his lap. Anti grips a knife warily, staring at Henrik’stwilight silhouette.

“Ican bear this no longer,” whispers Henrik.

“Arzt,”hisses Anti, glaring him down. “Go back upstairs. Now.” Hestrains his energy on the last word, reaching out for Henrik again,wrapping strings around his throat –

“Shutyour fucking mouth,” hisses Henrik.

Andstranger still is the look in his eyes, because, for the first timein his life, Anti doesn’t understand the emotion that he’s looking atin another’s face.

“So,”he drawls, rubbing Dapper’s back, just to mock this rebellious littlepuppet standing before him. “My strings got too loose, huh?”

Henrikmoves forward. His hands tremble.

“Upstairs,two of my brothers are dying,” he says. “Red – no, Jackie –has suffered so much at your hands that for many long months he hasdesired only to be yours, so full of hatred we all bear his marks onour flesh. I myself have hurt for years now because of you. Havenightmared, have scarred over, have shattered like ice into crystal.And this boy you have given me to care for for the past week. Eachtime I saw his face, each time I held him, bleeding in my arms, Ihave regained a little of myself. That is not because of you. That isbecause of me. Your strings are looser, yes. But I am the one whotore them off. And that is because you know nothing. You think youknow what pain is, Anti?”

Hepulls from the pocket of his torn khaki pants a stained scalpel.

“Answerme,” he snarls.

Antiis glaring at him now, teeth bared and drizzling blood. His skin isgreen and his eyes are black. He is not human.

Buthe shares the mortal propensity to fear.

“Yes,”he hisses back, draping himself over Jameson’s body like a wolf witha fresh kill. “And I will teach it to you for months and months andmonths, little one.”

“No!”screams Henrik. “No, you don’t know the first goddamn thing! Notyet, Anti! Not yet!”

Antineeds to get up. He has to get up. He cannot glitch at all; his fleshis so still it is painful, but he must rise nonetheless, he muststand nonetheless, he can still get up, even in his weakened state,surely –

Theweight of Jameson’s sleeping body across his lap is too heavy for himto move. He cannot even put his hands on him. He is losingcorporeality. He can see through his palms. This has never happened.This has never happened. This has never –

Feartastes like copper, copper, copper, blood.

“Painis love turned against you,” groans Henrik. “Brothers made toenemies and left to bleed on the seat of a bus, left to choke todeath in abandoned houses, wearing belled collars and clutching atwounds that will never heal. You think you know what that is?”

“Henrik,get away from me,” hisses Anti. Electrical signals buzz distortedlythrough his brain, making the whole world too bright and tooconfusing. He coughs and blood comes welling up in his mouth.

“Youwill,” promises Henrik.

Hiseyes are consumed by darkness.

“Iwill teach you what it is. Because Anti, Anti, Anti! Pain is weaknessand then, later, strength. I have suffered until the madness came,and arisen from it powerful, powerful, powerful. Be afraid, Anti. Iwill teach you what is pain.”

Anti’scoughing pierces deeper and deeper as his body begins to glitchapart. The more he tries to blacken his eyes and consume Henrik’swill, the more power he loses, and the more he falls apart. He cannotstop coughing. He cannot breathe.

“Youare nothing!” he shrieks, nearly hysteric with mad fervor, with howgoddamn close he is to having everything he’s ever wanted! So manybodies strewn aside, so much corruption and patience, so much time,effort, planning, blood, torment! No, he will not lose now! He willtear this whole world apart if that is what it takes! “I will ripyou apart like tendrils of dog meat!”

ButHenrik is no longer afraid of him. He continues forward, staring intohis black eyes, free of him.

“Iwill turn you against yourself,” he promises. Here is a threat toterrify, and Anti cannot help but shove himself against the back ofhis throne, straining away. “Tear you down into all the things youpromised yourself you would never be. Kill you with your own blade.Oh, I’ve hated you for so long.”

“Oh,no, Doktor,” giggles Anti. At least there is some humor to be foundin that. “No, no, no, you’ve loved me, adored me, prayed in my namefor months now. Even before I used power to make you mine completely,you would beg for a scrap of bread as you starved, for a touch ofcomfort as the pain killed you, for someone to kiss you and wipe upthe tears – ”

Henrikswings with the scalpel.

Anti’sbody finds the strength somewhere to glitch and he goes crashing tothe cement, scrambling away from Henrik, hatred and blood wellingfrom his mouth. He can’t stop coughing. It hurts. “Red!” hescreams. “Red, Blue, come here now!”

“Theytoo have abandoned you,” hisses Henrik. “Their brotherhoodovercomes your own.”

“Impossible,”Anti shrieks. “Impossible.”

“Youare alone,” says Henrik. “As you were always meant to be. I toldJameson you were inescapable, do you know that? Strange. Just daysago, you seemed deathless. But I have been watching your collapse.You have made yourself mortal. Maybe you will haunt us, after all, aghost, a memory. But you will never lay a hand on my family again.”

Anticoughs until he is sprawled against the earth, writhing in blood, inchunks of his own lungs, in hatred. He tries one last time to stopHenrik, and even makes him stagger back, confused, torn – but thislapse in control is enough to make the boy on the throne jerk back toreality, staggering to his feet and coming to stand at Henrik’s side,grabbing his hand and assuring him, comforting him, standing withhim.

Together,they are stronger than he is.

Forall that they have suffered, Jameson and Henrik are stronger thanAnti, stronger than hatred, stronger than blood.

Henrikraises the scalpel, and teaches his tormentor pain.

Teacheshis tormentor weakness.

Jackiereturns with medicine and food and masks and oxygen, filled with herocourage, hero strength, brother love. Marvin and Chase breathe. Antidoes not.

Henrikand Jameson cling to each other.

Nomore running. No more fighting. No more abuse. Just family. Gone isthe darkness. Here is the light, their stars, their brothers, alive.

Andfrom then on, when pain comes and they are haunted, well, the five ofthem face it together, as they did once before, and some day, oneday, soon, health and joy will come like sunlight in the morning,warm as the ashes of a fire proud and bright.

“Yousaved me,” says Jameson, warm against Henrik’s shoulder, trustingagainst his chest. “You saved me.”

“No,” says Henrik. “You, little brother, are the salvation Ihave longed for.”

#jameson jackson #antisepticeye #jse egos #bee writes #tw torture #tw hypnosis #tw pneumonia #tw abuse #so many ideas i just needed to get out there and this hit on so many of them #might polish it up one day and get a real story out of it #hope you enjoy #dapper and badass

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renee-writer · 5 years

Text

One Step Into the Future Chapter 2 What? Where? When?

“Jamie?” She kneels beside him and takes his pulse. It is strong and his eyelids are fluttering. Just a faint then. “Jamie, open your eyes.”

He does and finds her amber eyes staring back at him. So, he hadn't dreamed her. What of the rest? “Claire what of..”

“Yes Jamie?” He sits himself up and looks down. It is still there, whatever it was.

“What is that?” She looks where he is pointing and only sees her car. She frowns.

“What is what? It is only my car.”

“Car?”

“Jamie, how hard did you hit your head?” she is feeling under his curls again. But even the feel of her bonny hands canna distract him. “I don't feel anything but fainting and disorientation mean we should have you checked.”

“Checked?”

“At the hospital.” He still looks at her blankly so she just urges him up and towards her car. She open s the driver's door but he just stands there. It is like he has never seen a car before. She frowns, climbs out, and leads him to the passenger side. She urges him to have a seat. He sits and she places the seatbelt on him. She then reenters her side and starts the car. He is silent but jumps at the sound of the car starting. It isn't loud. Who is this guy?

“It is okay Jamie. It is safe and I am a good driver.”

“The Stones! It must be. The stories. They are true.”

“What stories?” He is distracted by the feel of movement. They are moving faster then any carriage and there are no horses. “Jamie?”

“Of travel. Of those who go through the stones, into another time.”

“You think you have went through another time?”

“Aye. Unless this is 1742.” It is her turn to be shocked.

“It is 2019. Jamie, are you saying you believe you are from 1742?”

“Nae Claire, I am saying I ken I am.”

She hurries to the hospital really worried about him now. She pulls up and helps him out. He follows her in, looking at the flashing lights, the ambulances, the doors that open as they approach, with wide eyes.

“Claire Beauchamp, we didn't expect you here today,” Dr. Geillis Duncan greets her.

“I didn't expect to be. I have a patient.” Her eyes move to Jamie.

“He is the most Highlander, Highlander I've ever seen.”

“James Fraser, at yer service ma'am.” He bows low in front of her, letting his kilt swing.

“Geillis Duncan, and it is a good thing I am married.”

“Is your husband about?” Joe Abernathy was the best psychiatrist Claire has ever worked with.

“Aye, I can page him.” Her questions are in her eyes.

“Jamie, stay right here.” He nods, still studying the electric lights, the lasses dressed like lads, the strange wheeled beds, and all the other queer things.

“He believes he is from 1742 and has came through some standing stones.” She explains to Geillis all that had happened.

“Okay. Let's do a complete physical. Make sure it isn’t something medical. I will get Joe to consult.”

“Thank you.”

The lead him to a bed. A nurse comes in and explains he must change into a gown.

“Why?”

“Hospital rules. I will give you a moment.” He carefully removes his clothes, laying them on the edge of the bed. But he has no idea how to put on the gown.

“Claire!” he calls out. She is close, standing by the curtain. She hurries in to find him as nude as a newborn.

“Christ Jamie!” her cheeks flare bright red. She has seen patients nude but she wasn't expecting..

“The lass says I must wear it but, I canna figure it out.” She comes in and helps him place the gown on. She ties it in the back then covers him with a sheet. It is short and barely covers his manhood. Hospital gowns were not made with Scottish warriors in mind. “Thank ye Claire.”

The nurse returns,” I need to draw some blood.”

“Like with leeches?” Jamie asks, startling the poor girl.

“No. The standard way.” Claire explains the process as well as she can. He nods but holds Claire's hand. She lets him squeeze it. “Quick pinch.” He jerks a bit then is still. He watches instead as his blood moves like magic into the wee glass thing. “Thank you Mr. Fraser.” She places a bandage over the small hole and slips out.

“Are you okay?” she asks him.

“I think so. Seems easier then the leeches.” She smiles. Another nurse enters with a cup.

“Mr. Fraser, we need a urine specimen.” He looks to Claire.

“She needs you to pee in that cup.”

“Ye wish me tae piss into that?”

“Well yes.” She hands it to him and he shrugs. He lifts the end of the gown giving both ladies a glimpse of what God has gifted him with.

“Jamie! Not here. You are to do it in the loo, ahh privy. Come.” She leads him out and into an empty bathroom. He looks around in wonder. “See, this is a sink. Water comes through pipes in the wall.” She turns it on and shows him.

“Nae need of drawing from a creek or a well?”

“No. And this is an indoor privy. You stand over it, lift both lids, and pee inside, whatever doesn’t fit in the cup. To, ah, defecate, you place one lid down and sit. When done you simply press this lever down and it is carried away. Then wash your hands.” She demonstrates flushing. He jumps a bit at the noise. “I will be right outside.”

“Claire nae! Please dinna go. I am scared.”

“Okay. I will turn my back.”

“Thank ye.” She does. A moment later she hears him peeing into the cup, and then into the toilet. She turns then to find him holding the cup in one hand and staring at the lever that flushes it. She takes the cup and places the lid on. She watches as with shaken hands, he flushes. He then washes his hands. She leads him back to the room.

“His blood and urine are clean. Very clean. No minute traces of the pollution I would expect to find in any modern person.” A shaken Geillis reports an hour later.

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying, I am getting Joe.”

“Hello Mr. Fraser. I am Doctor Joe Abernathy. You can call me Joe.”

“What happened to yer skin?” Joe is a dark skin black man, something that Jamie had yet to see.

“You have never seen a black person before?”

“No.”

“Well Jamie, may I call you that?”

“Aye tis my name.”

“Jamie, I am black. My ancestors came from the continent of Africa.”

“I have heard of such just nae seen.”

“Jamie, I need to ask you some questions. That alright?”

“Aye.”

“What is your full name?”

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

“What year were you born?

“The year of our Lord 1720.”

“And what year is it now?”

“Well Joe. Twas 1742 when I woke this morning but Claire says it is now 2019. It must be sae.”

“Why?”

“Weel, there is not any of this in 1742. I had ne' seen a car, a door that opens on it's own, beds with wheels, fireless lights, an indoor privy, weel, any of this before today.”

“What are your parent’s names?”

“Brian and Ellen Fraser?”

“Your mother's maiden name?”

“Mackenzie.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Aye, a sister named Janet but everyone calls her Jenny. Had a brother named Willie but her died?”

“When did he die?”

“1730. It was the pox that carried him away?”

“Smallpox?”

“Aye.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“Nae. My mam passed a year after Willie, in childbed. My da was felled by a sudden attack two years ago.”

“What is your phone number?”

“What is a phone?”

“Okay, where did you go to school?”

“I was educated by my mam until she passed. My sister taught me some then my da sent me to my uncle's at Castle Leoch. I studied under them for two and a half years.”

“Where do you work.?”

“I was a soldier in France until the war ended. Now I am a stable hand at Castle Leoch. Or was?”

“Okay Jamie. I will be back.”

“He is intelligent, articulate and believes every word he told me. But other then the delusion, there is no other sign of a mental illness, no paranoia, no depression, nothing.”

“Nothing but the fact that he believes himself from the past and the lab tests seem to back him up.”

“You were on the hill Claire. What did you experience?”

“It was strange. Their was a loud humming, like a hive of bees. Then silence and he was there, on the other side of the stone.”

“I deal in facts but there are certain things we can't know. Mysterys.”

“You believe him?”

“He does. His words and actions show he isn't aware he is lying or mistaken, if he is.”

“And the lab tests.” He nods.

“I can't admit him or medicate him.”

“What do I do with him?” He shrugs.

“I can't say. But he is like a domesticated animal. They way he is now, he will never survive out on his own.”

“I found him so I keep him?”

“He isn't a danger. You can take him to a shelter or..”

“Take him home with me.”

“Yes”

“Thanks Joe. I guess I have a houseguest, for awhile. I will see him on his feet.”

#my wtiting #modern au #outlander fanfic #one step in the future #wht where when

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years

Text

Sparks Fly (3/?)

After the first night, things go smoother for you. Thor watches in fascination as you smooth over household issues he did not even know were issues. Things are more harmonious, the budgets are more balanced, and every day you take care of some headache for him that he had no idea how to solve. In the evenings as you ate dinner together, your head bent over an instrument, the god said a prayer to the Norns for their wisdom in bringing you to him.

The Avengers accept your presence and so do Thor’s people, mostly without question. Your skills are mostly useless in combat, but your kind heart and the joy that just being near you seem to bring to Thor earns you their affection. Rocket is especially taken with you, seeking you out in the afternoons as you sit with New Asgard’s children at your feet, spinning out a tale to entertain them. He often stood nearby, listening. He didn’t know what about you was so soothing; perhaps it was the way you never treated him like a pet or some dumb animal. When he spoke, you listened, fixing your golden eyes on him calmly. You accepted flowers from Groot. You were just… soothing. And somehow, you always knew when the tricky spot behind his right ear needed to be scratched. Thor watched you spinning out a tale and smiled to himself. The children were quiet, and the Avengers nearby were similarly enthralled. You held your audience in the palm of your delicate hand, and Thor realized at that moment that for him, this was his truest love match. You were what he had been meant to find on Midgard, of that he was sure.

You drew this installment of your tale to a close to the groans of the children and stood easily from your stool, smiling as one small girl brought you a violet. You picked her up, laughing and touched your forehead to hers tenderly, letting her put the flower behind your ear. Thor couldn’t see his face, but he was confident he was giving you what young Peter Parker had called heart eyes. He couldn’t wait to see you cuddling your own children. His children. He’d kept his physical distance from you aside from thoughtful touches and kissing your hands. He was afraid that if he started touching you, he would not be able to rein in his powers and desires. Thor had his guesses about the parts of your past you kept hidden, and he felt that patience was going to be necessary. There was something about the way you started when anyone touched you unexpectedly. The way you still flinched at raised voices or someone’s hand passing to close to your face. It broke his heart when he saw it.

You dressed to fade into the background in the mortal clothing that you had procured for yourself with Natasha and Carol. Baggy clothing, hoodies, and jeans converse sneakers. Sandals. Functional buns and braids in your hair. You seem to want to hide, and for now, Thor doesn’t push. He doesn’t insist on the dresses and blouses he’s dying to see your curves in. After years of standing out as a way to keep you isolated, you seem to want nothing more than to fit in. You can feel Thor’s eyes on you as you walk across the yard headed towards the stable to take a ride on Declan. It was nice being able to do whatever you wanted whenever you felt like it. Thor had asked that you took one of his friends with you when you went out so that they could protect you if anything were to happen. You assented to his request with no fuss. The creature called Rocket and your “Ladies in Waiting” was your favorite companions. They allowed you your silence. They let you be with no questions.

Carol and Natasha fall into step with you as you walk and you greet them with your usual quiet smile. This place is confusing but comfortable. Not quite home but lovely in its way. Your betrothed was a puzzle. You could feel his eyes on you, tracking you. You didn’t mind it, his watching you. His eyes were hungry but not… not the same way Madoc’s had been. You did not know how you felt. You liked it when he touched you; his warm, calloused hands were gentle and reassuring. You often thought about how he pulled you onto his lap and held you. You hadn’t expected to feel so safe with his arms around you and his fingers in your hair, massaging away your fear. His middle was soft. Comfortable to be cushioned against as he held you. He was just comfortable. That was the right word for it. His hands hadn’t strayed from your waist, and your hair and the deep rumble of his voice had almost lulled you to sleep like the distant thunder of a summer storm rolling in.

You desperately wanted him to hold you that way again, but how did one ask for such a thing? He’d been so careful. So polite with you that you felt almost as if he might have found you wanting. That thought made your stomach twist. You had no experience beyond fear and pain and discomfort. You were afraid he'd be disappointed. More importantly, you were fearful that if he ever found out... You winced unable to keep your thoughts to yourself entirely. Natasha laid a hand gently on your arm, "Y/N?" she asked softly, "You know you can talk to us, right?"Carol took your arm on your other side, "Thor is our friend, it's true;" Carol said, "But whatever you say to us doesn't need to go further than right here." You shake your head and smile, "It's nothing, really." you say. It sounded off even to your ears but something. This fear was too much to confide in anyone. Too intimate. You didn't know really why it all felt so wrong, but it did. Natasha and Carol trade looks over your head, and they let you keep your thoughts to yourself. They chatted around you, keeping up commentary on the others. They had their suspicions about what you were thinking about. They'd seen you in the quiet moments in your rooms lost in thought when you were just relaxed enough to let some emotion show on your face. They knew Thor was in love with you. So in love that there was next to nothing you could ever say or do to turn him from you. The King was wrapped around your slender fingers, and you'd done it without even trying. It had been sweet to watch his fumbling attempts at doting on you. Loki had been appalled, "Gods," he snorted, watching Thor blush when you shyly took his hand as you walked, "It's like he got fat and forgot how to seduce a woman. This is almost pathetic." Natasha had shaken her head, "He's not trying to seduce the Princess," she'd said, "If he tried that she'd run away from him." Steve nodded in agreement, "And whatever he's doing, she does not exactly hate it."

You wait for The ladies to get their horses saddled before swinging yourself astride Declan's broad back, patting his neck to tell him to go forward. "How do you stay up there without a saddle?" Carol asked, urging her horse on with difficulty. "The same way you stay astride with a saddle," you say chuckling. When she looked confused, you add, "With my thighs." Natasha laughs and tugs the end of your braid fondly making you realize how bawdy that sounded and you blush scarlet. "Though Declan wouldn't let me fall," you say, "He is a spirit of the forests where I was born. Of the forests, my family is tasked with protecting." You pat the Stag's neck. "I am the last of my house, and so he feels he must protect me to protect his forest." Natasha opens her mouth to ask a question, and you smile a little, "I am not my mother's only child. But I am her youngest child. The day Madoc's army came, I was at her feet. She was teaching me something... I do not recall what." The Stag snuffled and snorted, and you sigh. "When they breached the wall, She slung me across Declan's back and bid him run. And so he did. He tried to make it to the next court where I might be safely hidden, but it was not to be. So he stayed with me, doing what he could to keep me from any major harm."

Carol watches you for a long moment, your posture straight and your hands resting on your thighs as if you did not just tell them about an escape from certain death on the back of a magic deer and finally asked softly, "How many siblings did you have?" she asked. "Six. Haldora, Jamie, Callum, Alayne, Oak, and Rowan." Just speaking their names hurt after so long keeping them locked away. You look up, turning your face to the sun and take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. There are no more questions after that. You ride along in silence, trying not to overthink about the day of the siege and the sounds of the screams. You stop suddenly when you hear a sound. It is a soft noise, barely noticeable above the forest sound. Declan kneels to allow you to slide off his back easily and waits, snuffling. You move through the brush silently and lift a very injured fox kit from the bush, cradling it in your arms murmuring soothing nonsense in a language that is decidedly not human. The creature should, by rights, be snarling and snapping in pain, but it is not. It nestles close to you, and you sit sideways on Declan's back, "Back the way we came, old friend." you say, light authority in your voice. The Stag obeys, and Carol and Nat follow. You hold the fox kit gently all the way home and carry it straight to the stable to begin to heal the poor creature.

In the stable, Carol and Nat leave you be going to have a drink and soothe the discomfort of knowing more concrete details about your past. Thor sees them without you and has a moment of panic. The girls laugh a little, "Your lady is safe," Carol said, "In fact, she's brought home a new pet." They tell Thor about the fox kit that you carried home in your arms and subsequently tease him about the way his face softened, and he had almost literal heart eyes. Thor blushes and excuses himself, going in search of you.

He watches you from the stable door, your musical voice bringing magic into being. When the kit was asleep in your arms, on her back and practically snoring tired from being hurt, he walks towards you, "New pet, sweetheart?" he said, a soft smile on his face. You look up at him, shy and blushing, "She needed help," you say, "I'm sorry. I should have asked you." Thor caressed your jaw softly and kissed your forehead, "You have such a loving heart," he murmured, "I could never be angry at that." He watches as your lips part in surprise, and you smile at him, and he aches in ways he hasn't since he was a boy first in love. He can't stop himself; he caresses your lower lip with his thumb and steps slightly closer to you. Several emotions flit across your face and then nothing. You stand wooden and panicked, pupils were blown wide and blood pounding. Thor stops. Just stops. Dropping his hand from you and moving back. "Sweetheart," he breathes, "I'm sorry. Please don't be afraid. Not of me." Thor sits down on a bench and holds out his arms to you, when you stumble forward he scoops you gently and kisses your hair. "Whatever they did to you was not your fault," he said. "It's not your fault, and I love you," he reassured. When the tears start falling, he only rocks you softly, his tears sliding down his cheeks into his beard. He doesn't know how long he holds you that way. But by the time your tears are spent, and you sleep, the stars are out. He carries you not to your bed but his, unwilling to let you go. He takes off your sandals but otherwise does not undress you before pulling you to his side your head on his chest and the fox kit curled on his soft, cuddly belly, tail over her nose.

Thor doesn’t sleep well that night, despite holding the plushness of your body the way he’s longed to since that first night. His thoughts are murderous. That man is going to pay for the thing he’s done. The things he let happen to you. He strokes your hair, rubbing the back of your neck to keep you soothed into a restful sleep, his deep voice rumbling stories to you. His exploits as a boy. Things about his mother. Anything to keep your monsters at bay, if only for a little while. Anything to keep you comfortable in his arms a little longer.

tags: @thekairos @amalthea9 @lancsnerd

#thor x reader #thor x you #thor odinson #natasha romanoff #carol danvers #rocket raccoon #loki laufeyson #thor imagine #Angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #thicc thor

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