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stardustbarbarians · 1 year

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Too Pretty For War

Chapter 1 (ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9)

A Samuel Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: The only way for Prince Sam to end a war is by marrying the enemy.

Tags: Prince!Sam, war, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, angst

Trigger Warnings: blood, death, nightmares, grief

A/N: Hi uhhhh I wasn't expecting to finish part one tonight but here were are. This fic is dedicated to @safety-sam whom this fic would not exist without her daring me to write it. If you read my other fics you'll know I like to name my fics after songs, but this time the title comes from me uttering the exact words of the title upon see the AI generate warrior Sam. As always, I appreciate your feedback <3. Please enjoy! (Also this is about to be filled with historical inaccuracies but I will try my best to keep it accurate where I can)

Words: 2.1 k

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Thirteen years. Thirteen years of war had been tearing apart the country that Sam called home. Ever since the age of ten, battle had been his reality. He has had to sacrifice so much for something so ridiculous, but what he has had to sacrifice pales in comparison to what his people have had to. So many mothers, wives, and children were without their sons, husbands and fathers all in the name of protecting their country over a scuffle that meant nothing.

“Please, father, just attempt to make peace with them. This fighting has gone on long enough,” Samuel pleaded, kneeling in front of the king sitting high atop his throne. Every time he spoke to his father, it always seemed to be while he was on the throne. He never got to speak to his father.

“You beg upon deaf ears, Samuel. Let it go. I will hear you speak of this no further,” the king sternly ordered, his face imitating the marble statues decorating the palace.

Knowing when he had lost, Sam got up from the floor and swept out of the room. He was furious. Couldn’t his father see all the harm he was causing on both sides??

Much like how most conversations with his father ended, the prince sought out his best friend in order to vent his frustrations concerning the king and this war. Without so much as knocking, Samuel stormed into his best friend’s living quarters.

“He will see no reason!!” the royal blared, pacing back and forth across the floor.

“Good evening to you as well, Sam,” Daniel dryly greeted. He was pouring over academic texts that went far beyond the prince’s knowledge. But that’s why he was part of the court in the first place; he was training to become Jake’s advisor.

“Does he not understand the torment and strain he is putting on this kingdom?! If he does not end this war soon, the people will ask for his head!!” Sam continued as if Daniel hadn’t said a word. He had one hand on his hip while his other rubbed at his forehead, the cape he wore brushing against his elbow while his fingers were poked by the heavy gold leaves digging into his scalp.

“You and I both know this is a matter of pride-”

“IS PRIDE WORTH THE BLOOD OF THOUSANDS OF MEN?!”

At his outburst, the room went silent. The pair of friends gazed at one another, Sam’s chest heaving as it attempted to keep pace with his anger. While the scholar’s face was blank, in his eyes Sam saw the compassion and pity swirling in them.

With a deep sigh, Daniel stood up from behind his desk. The prince stayed in his place while the scholar approached. He placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder. This wasn’t the first time this discussion occurred between them. “There is nothing in this world that is worth a person’s blood.”

Sam deflated at the touch. Daniel was one of the handful of people that saw the prince at his most vulnerable; he was the only one of non-blood relation, as well. The prince found himself leaning into the touch, if only slightly. He closed his eyes and let all of his fury seep out and calm at Daniel’s touch.

“Who else needs to die for this war to end?” Sam whispered. It was barely loud enough for Daniel to hear.

He couldn’t see it, but the scholar’s face shifted to one of empathy. He knew the amount of guilt the prince held due to his father’s stubbornness.

Sam suddenly was overly aware of the weight of his golden crown, his head hanging in shame. He felt his friend’s hand brush against his cheek in an act of solidary.

“If you can’t convince him, I’m afraid no one can.”

+++

After the sun had sleepily slipped below the horizon and the stars and moon partook in their duty of illuminating the inky sky, the prince laid in bed. He hadn’t even seen his father at dinner, the king off making battle plans with his war advisors. That left his mother, his sister Veronica, and Danile at the table. It had been silent and tense. The one person who could diffuse the tension was long gone.

His mind busy with thoughts racing around inside of it, Samuel fell into a restless sleep.

He dreamed of blood, of weapons. Of mothers falling to the ground in mourning for the death of their sons. Out of their mouths was the voice of his own mother, her haunting wailing sending chills down to his bone. Suddenly, it was the queen crumpled to the ground under the weight of her loss. In her arms was none other than Sam’s older brother who was off fighting the war. The crowned prince and next in line for the throne was being cradled by their mother as blood gushed out of a gaping wound in his chest. It gurgled out of his lips as he attempted to speak, his skin turning ever pale as he reached a hand out towards Sam. Before Sam could reach him, his arm went limp. He had lost his brother to the war.

“Samuel!!”

With a gasp, Sam was jolted awake. Covered in sweat despite the frigid temperature of his skin, Sam frantically looked around to find himself in his bed and not on the battlefield. It took a moment longer for him to realize that he wasn’t alone.

“Daniel,” he muttered, sitting up properly to address the scholar. He rubbed a hand down his face, taking a moment to compose himself.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re in your room with me,” he reminded the prince. The two of them had gotten into the habit of soothing each other through the horrors of life.

Sam nodded, looking around once more just to be safe. Neither spoke, the subdued noises of the night substituting conversation. The monotonous yet calming crashing of waves against the beach near Samuel’s window grounded him as well as the presence of his best friend.

“Nightmares again?” Daniel finally asked, pushing one of his curls out of the way of his eyes. His torso was exposed, the light of the moon reflecting off his skin.

“How could you tell?” he asked after nodding his head in confirmation. Sam’s voice was rough, cracking upon use and sounding as if he had swallowed sand.

That was when Daniel looked away. He always made an effort to look his best friend in the eyes, knowing that Sam’s own father hardly glanced at his youngest. “You were screaming Jake’s name.”

At the name, Sam’s breath caught in his throat. He felt the tears prickle in his eyes, glancing away from Daniel. It was a ridiculous act, really. Daniel had seen the prince cry on so many occasions; but he was a man, and men don’t cry.

“He died in mother’s arms,” Sam shakily informed, looking out towards the moon and still refusing to look at his best friend. He wrapped his arms around himself, the wind chilling his sweat-slicked skin.

Once again, Daniel offered his best friend the comfort of physical touch. He leaned over and placed a hand on the prince’s shin. Instantly, Sam felt warmth bloom inside of him from the simple act.

“Do you think they mean something? These night terrors?”

The scholar sighed. He remained silent as he searched the caverns of his mind to come up with the best answer to Sam’s question.

“You need rest. That’s what I think,” he softly spoke, his tone warm like a summer’s morning.

They stayed like that for a moment, finding much needed comfort in one another’s presence. Without any more words spoken, however, Daniel instated his own advice and made to leave. Sam regretfully watched as Daniel walked towards his door, the scholar turning to look at Sam as he opened it.

“Goodnight, Samuel.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

And just like that, Sam was alone again.

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The next morning, Sam was interrupted from his sparring lessons to be summoned to the throne room by his father’s request. More than a little confused, the prince set down his sword and wiped the sweat off his skin before making his way to be in his father’s presence.

Upon entering, his guard was up instantly. He spotted his father, his mother, Veronica, and Daniel, no one else. The sound of the doors closing heavily behind the prince bounced off the stone walls and amplified it tenfold. As he walked towards the front of the room he found an array of emotions on his family’s faces ranging from confusion to sorrow.

“Now that you are all present, I’m afraid I have horrible news,” the king announced, addressing the four people gathered in front of him. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but Sam got the impression that he was barely holding onto his identity as the king. It seemed as if he was struggling to carry himself with that regality that the prince had come to loathe so wholly since his boyhood.

No one spoke, waiting with baited breath for the patriarch to continue. Under normal conditions, Sam wouldn’t be able to hear the way his father’s breath hitched. But much like the closing doors, it reverberated off the walls and amplified it.

“Jacob was slain last week.”

Sam’s mother cried out in horror, her hands coming to cover her mouth as her knees gave out. Acting on instinct alone, the lone son lunged out to capture her in his arms. He carefully lowered her to the floor, caressing her arm as she sobbed violently into her son’s chest.

It was too much like his dream last night. At least the reality had a lot less blood to be seen.

“His death has moved me to consider peace negotiations.” The king’s voice trembled. Sam was right, he was barely keeping it together.

The prince was barely paying him any mind. His attention was mostly focused on the way his mother repeated “no” in a soft mantra that did nothing but further fracture the young prince’s heart. He rested his head on top of her’s, gently rocking her back and forth in an attempt to comfort her through her unsurmountable grief.

“As such: Veronica, you will be married to the Spartan prince. I will send a messenger before the sun sets to-”

“No!”

All eyes were on the prince. He hadn’t realized he protested until he gained the attention of the room. Sighing deeply, Sam looked to his sister so that she could comfort her while he spoke to his father.

“No? You finally get what you have demanded for years and you say ‘no’?” The tone his father used made Sam feel like he was a child again. The prince closed his eyes and swallowed against every instinct that told him to back down.

“With Jacob… Now that…”

Blinking back tears and straightening his posture, Sam tried again.

“As I am next in line for the throne, I will need a wife to be the future queen,” Samuel began, internally proud of himself at how even his tone sounded.

“Samuel-”

“Hush, Daniel, please,” Sam silenced, finding his best friend’s concern as he looked at him and softening, “I know what I’m doing.”

The scholar stepped back, his brow knit. He clearly was against the prince’s train of thought, but he wouldn’t protest.

“The Spartans have a daughter. Allow me to marry her.”

“Sammy, please-”

“Ronnie, this is for your own good! They’ll torture you and commit unspeakable atrocities unto you!” the prince snapped, emotional at the idea of losing both his brother and sister on the same day. He could no longer hold back his tears.

“You seem to already have your mind set on this,” the king stated. Sam looked over at his father, catching what he thought could’ve been a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“I have, father.”

The room was silent once again. The only noise was that of his mother’s cries as she mourned her son. The king deliberated, looking to the floor as he pondered.

“I will send a messenger with your proposal.”

Feeling as if he could collapse under the weight of that sentence, the prince bowed to his father before rushing out of the room. He wasn’t sure if he had any destination in mind, but he found himself in Jake’s old room when he became cognizant again. Falling to his knees, Samuel screamed. From the depths of his soul, he screamed in sorrow and frustration.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you,” Sam choked out, speaking to the spirit of his dead brother. But what was supposed to happen no longer mattered. The facts were he was never coming back.

The facts were he would soon be betrothed to his brothers’ killer.

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Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @kdarling1 @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan

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#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #sam x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #sam kiszka x reader #angst #samuel francis kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #too pretty for war

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ritualoflovesmemory · 1 year

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An Impromptu Faculty Meeting (From Ch. 3)

“SILENCE!” Every eye turned to Sprout, and the room fell quiet, except for a few muffled cries and sobs. The Herbology professor climbed atop the nearest table and spoke with a strong, clear voice. “Students, listen carefully! You must all leave immediately. Leave through the main gates toward Hogsmeade, get to a shop, a pub, or any magical home, and use the floo to get to safety. Your teachers will remain to provide you the time to do so safely. It has been an honor teaching you. May you find safe harbor somewhere beyond the reach of this monster. Now GO!”

Before the crowded room could begin to move a voice called out. “Not so fast! Don’t anyone move a muscle!” came a voice entering the Great Hall. Amycus Carrow’s eyes were flashing with excitement. “You’ll all ignore her blathering and wait for the Dark Lord, or you’ll pay for it in blood!” Alecto walked forward from behind her brother, with her gaze fixed on Professor Flitwick.

In an instant, there was an incredible flash of blinding light. Both Carrows covered their eyes with their hands as Slughorn’s wand produced a Lumos Maxima that shot straight in between them. Before they could recover, Sprout and Flitwick rushed forward. It was suddenly quite apparent how Filius had won dueling championships in his youth, as he parried the blindly-cast curses of the Carrows. And though her spellwork was not at the same level as her counterpart, Pomona’s wand slashed with a fury. In seconds, both Carrows were left unconscious in a heap.

Flitwick turned at the sound of cheering behind him. “What are you waiting for? You’ve got to get out of here before You Know Who arrives!”

As the students began to run for the doors, a red light burst from further down the hallway, knocking the Charms professor to the floor. His wand flipped in midair as it flew into the outstretched hand of the Headmaster.

“Filius! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” spat Snape. He watched as students ignored them and rushed towards the gates to the Hogwarts grounds. “Pomona! He’ll flay you both alive for this!”

“I won’t stand by and watch students tortured anymore! I won’t watch them be led like lambs to the slaughter!” Flitwick pulled a spare wand from within his robes as he stood back up and walked forward to stand next to Sprout.

“We may not be enough to fend off You Know Who, but we can buy the students precious seconds.” Pomona’s face was hard as stone as she pointed her wand at Snape. “Severus, if you ever were the man Dumbledore believed you to be, you must see that your Master is bent on killing countless innocents. Will you be able to live with yourself if you don’t fight for them now?”

#harry x ginny #hinny fanfic #harry potter #harryginny #pomona sprout #filius flitwick #horace slughorn #hinny #hp fanfic

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mrkilroi · 1 year

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The Messianic Era

By J. Immanuel Schochet

A. Restoration of the Bet Hamikdash

Mashiach shall restore the Bet Hamikdash in Jerusalem.1 This refers to the third Bet Hamikdash that will stand forever, in fulfillment of the Divine prophecy of Ezekiel 37:26-28: “I shall give My Sanctuary in their midst forever. My dwelling-place shall be over them… The nations shall know that I am G‑d who sanctifies Israel, when My Sanctuary shall be in the midst of them forever.”2

B. Ingathering of the Exiles of Israel

Through Mashiach shall be effected the ingathering of all the exiles of Israel:3

Deuteronomy 30:3-4: “G‑d, your G‑d, shall bring back your captivity… and He will return and gather you from all the nations whither G‑d, your G‑d, has scattered you. If your banished shall be at the utmost end of the heavens, G‑d, your G‑d, shall gather you from there, and He shall take you from there.”

Isaiah 11:11-12,16: “It shall be on that day that G‑d shall again set His hand for a second time to acquire the remnant of His people that shall remain from Assyria and from Egypt, from Pathros and from Cush and from Elam, from Shinar and from Chamat and from the islands of the sea… There shall be a highway for the remnant of His people that shall remain from Assyria, as there was for Israel on the day they went up from the land of Egypt.”

Isaiah 43:5-6: “Fear not, for I am with you; I will bring your seed from the east and gather you from the west. I shall say to the north, ‘Give up,’ and to the south, ‘Do not hold back, bring My sons from far and My daughters from the end of the earth.’ ”

Amos 9:14-15: “I shall return the captivity of My people Israel and they shall build the waste cities and settle… I shall plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be plucked out of their land that I have given them, says G‑d, your G‑d.”

Jeremiah 23:7-8: “Therefore behold, days shall come, says G‑d, that they shall no longer say, ‘As G‑d lives who has taken up the children of Israel from the land of Egypt;’ but ‘As G‑d lives who has taken up and brought the seed of the House of Israel from the north country and from all the countries where He had banished them,’ and they shall dwell in their land.”

Ezekiel 39:25, 27-29: “…Now I shall bring back the captivity of Jacob and I shall have compassion on the whole House of Israel, and I shall be zealous for My holy Name… When I shall have returned them from the nations and gathered them from the lands of their enemies… They shall know that I am G‑d, their G‑d, in that I exiled them to the nations and gathered them unto their land, and I will not leave any one of them there. I will no more hide My face from them, as I will pour out My spirit upon the House of Israel…”4

The Ten Tribes of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, exiled by the Assyrians before the destruction of the first Bet Hamikdash (II-Kings, ch. 17), and dispersed beyond the river Sambation and the ‘Mountains of Darkness,’ will also return.5

This Divine promise of the return and restoration of Israel is unconditional. It will occur even if the people should not want to return:

“That which arises in your mind shall not come to pass, namely that which you say, ‘We shall be like the nations, like the families of the countries, to serve wood and stone.’ As I live, says the Lord G‑d, I shall surely rule over them with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm and with fury poured out. I shall take you out from the nations and gather you from the lands in which you were scattered, with a mighty hand, an outstretched arm and with fury poured out… I shall pass you under the rod and bring you into the covenant… For on My holy mountain, on the mountain of the height of Israel, says the Lord G‑d, there shall all of the whole House of Israel serve Me… when I bring you out from the nations and gather you from the lands where you were scattered, and I shall be sanctified in you in the eyes of the nations. You shall know that I am G‑d when I bring you to the earth of Israel, to the land about which I raised My hand to give it to your fathers.” (Ezekiel 20:32-37, 40-42)

“Therefore say to the House of Israel, Thus said the Lord G‑d: I am not doing (this) for your sake, House of Israel, but for My holy Name which you profaned among the nations wither you came. I shall sanctify My great Name that was profaned among the nations, that you profaned in their midst, and the nations shall know that I am G‑d, says the Lord G‑d, when I shall be sanctified in you before their eyes. I shall take you from the nations, and I shall gather you from all the lands, and I shall bring you to your land. I shall sprinkle pure waters upon you and you shall be purified from all your sins, and I will purify you from all your idols…” (Ezekiel 36:22-25)

C. End to Evil and Sin

The Messianic era will mark the end of evil and sin:

Ezekiel 37:23: “They shall not defile themselves anymore with their idols and with their abominations and with all their transgressions…”

Zephaniah 3:13: “The remnant of Israel will not do any wrong, and they will not speak lies nor shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouth.”

Zechariah 13:2: “It shall be in that day… that I shall cut off the names of the idols from the earth and they shall no longer be remembered; and I shall also remove from the earth the [false] prophets and the spirit of impurity.”

Malachi 3:19: “For behold the day comes burning like a furnace, and all the wanton sinners and everyone that does wickedness shall be stubble… that to them shall not be left root and branch.”

Isaiah 60:21: “Your people shall all be righteous, they shall inherit the land forever…”

Jeremiah 50:20: “In those days and in that time, says G‑d, the iniquity of Israel shall be searched for but it will not be, and the sins of Judah but they shall not be found…”6

D. Awareness and Knowledge of G‑d

The Messianic era will be a time of universal awareness, perception and knowledge of G‑d:

Isaiah 11:9: (cf. Habakuk 2:14): “…the earth shall be full of knowledge of G‑d as the waters cover the sea.”

Isaiah 40:5: “The glory of G‑d shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see together that the mouth of G‑d has spoken.”7

Isaiah 52:8: “…for eye to eye they shall see as G‑d returns to Zion.”

Jeremiah 31:32-33: “…I shall put My teaching in their inward parts and write it in their heart, and I shall be to them for G‑d and they shall be to Me for a people. They shall no longer teach one another, and a man his brother, saying ‘Know G‑d,’ for they shall all know Me from the least of them to the greatest of them…”

The Divine spirit will be upon the people, endowing them with the power of prophecy and vision:

Joel 3:1-2: “…I shall pour out My spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your elders shall dream dreams, your young shall see visions. In those days I shall pour out My spirit also upon the servants and handmaids.”8

E. Universal Worship of G‑d

Mashiach shall mend the whole world so that all shall serve G‑d in unity:9

Zephaniah 3:9: “For then I shall turn to the peoples a pure tongue that all shall call upon the Name of G‑d to serve Him with one consent.”

Isaiah 2:2-3 and Michah 4:1-2: “…The mountain of G‑d’s House shall be established at the top of the mountains and it shall be raised above the hills, and all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall go and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of G‑d, to the House of the G‑d of Jacob, and let him [Mashiach] teach us of His ways and we shall go in His paths;’ for from Zion shall go forth Torah, and the word of G‑d from Jerusalem.”10

Zechariah 9:16: “…every one that is left of all the nations that came against Jerusalem shall go up from year to year to bow before the King, G‑d…”

Zechariah 14:9: “G‑d shall be King over the entire earth. In that day G‑d shall be One and His Name One.”

F. Universal Peace and Harmony

The awareness and knowledge of G‑d will remove the narrow-minded dispositions that lead to strife and war. It will be an era of peace and harmony in the Holy Land11 and throughout the world:

Isaiah 2:4 and Michah 4:3: “…they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning-hooks. Nation shall not lift a sword against nation, nor shall they learn war any more.” [Michah 4:4 continues: “Each man shall sit under his vine and under his fig-tree, and none shall make them afraid…”]

Hosea 2:20: “…I shall break from the earth the bow, the sword and warfare, and I shall make them lie down securely.”

Zechariah 9:10: “…the bow of war shall be cut off, and [Mashiach] shall speak peace unto the nations…”

This new attitude of mankind will also be reflected in the animal world:

Isaiah 11:6-9: “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb and the leopard shall lie with the kid, and a calf with a lion’s cub and a fatling together, and a small child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young ones shall lie down together, and the lion shall eat straw like cattle. An infant shall play over the hole of an asp, and the weaned child shall put out his hand over the eyeball of an adder. They will not harm or destroy on all My holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of G‑d as the waters cover the sea.”

Isaiah 65:25: “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like cattle, dust shall be the serpent’s food. They shall not harm nor destroy in all My holy mountain, says G‑d.”12

G. Resurrection of the Dead

“Your dead shall be revived, my corpses shall arise; awaken and sing you who dwell in the dust, for a dew of lights is your dew…” (Isaiah 26:19)

“Behold I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, My people; and I will bring you into the Land of Israel. You shall know that I am G‑d when I open your graves and when I revive you from your graves, My people. I shall put My spirit into you and you will live, and I will place you upon your land, and you will know that I, G‑d, have spoken and done, says G‑d.” (Ezekiel 37:12-14)

“Many of them that sleep in the land of dust shall awake…” (Daniel 12:2)13

H. Blissful Utopia: End to Disease and Death

The Messianic era will witness ultimate physical and spiritual bliss. All will be healed.14 The blind, the deaf and the dumb, the lame, whosoever has any blemish or disability, shall be healed from all their disabilities: “The eyes of the blind shall be clearsighted, and the ears of the deaf shall be opened… the lame shall leap as a hart and the tongue of the dumb shall sing…” (Isaiah 35:5-6).15 Death itself shall cease, as it is said, “Death shall be swallowed up forever and G‑d shall wipe the tears from every face…” (Isaiah 25:8)16

There will be a life of ease.17 Our physical needs will be taken care of by others, as it is said, “Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks and aliens shall be your plowmen and your vinedressers.” (Isaiah 61:5)18

The earth will manifest extraordinary fertility, yielding an overabundance of every kind of produce, and trees growing ripe fruits every day.19 Zion’s wilderness will be made “to be like Eden, and her desert like the garden of G‑d” (Isaiah 51:3). “I will call for the grain and increase it… and I will increase the fruit of the tree and the produce of the field…” (Ezekiel 36:29-30) “… The plowman shall overtake the reaper, and the treader of grapes him who sows seed; and the mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall melt.” (Amos 9:13)20

“At that time there will be neither famine nor war, neither envy nor strife. All good things will be bestowed in abundance, and all delicacies will be accessible like dust.”21

The wondrous events and conditions of the Messianic era will completely overshadow all and any miracles that happened before then, even those associated with the exodus from Egypt.22

Even so, these Divine blessings are not an end in themselves. They are but a means towards a higher goal:

Our longing for the Messianic era is not for the sake of dominating the world, to rule over the heathens, or to be exalted by the nations. Nor is it that we might eat, drink and rejoice,23 “have much produce and wealth, ride horses and indulge in wine and song, as thought by some confused people.”24

It is, rather, to have relief from the powers that presently do not allow us to be preoccupied with Torah and mitzvot properly.25 Our aspirations are to be free to devote ourselves to Torah and its wisdom, with no one to oppress and disturb us. We long for that time because there will be an assembly of the righteous, an era dominated by goodness, wisdom, knowledge and truth. It will be a time when the commandments of the Torah shall be observed without inertia, laziness or compulsion (other version: “worries, fear or compulsion”).26

The sole preoccupation of the whole world will be to know G‑d. The Israelites will be great sages: they will know things that are presently concealed, and will achieve knowledge of their Creator to the utmost capacity of human beings, as it is said, “The earth shall be full of the knowledge of G‑d as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:9)27

#freedom #judaism #messiah #b'nei noach #whychristianitygotwrong #jesusnotthemessiah

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nativesreact · 2 years

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Syd’s Notes, pt. 7

Here we are! Just a few more days left and I’ll be free... for a couple months. So, just a little warning, I will not be referencing actual sentences a lot here. I only have a few things I will write word for word. Mainly, I will talk about my overall thoughts.

Ch. 42

In that instant Katie knew that Heath had gone crazed out of his mind with anger. He wasn’t thinking any more-his fury was in control.

(pg. 208)

I haven’t said this in a while, but I feel like this resembles an actual toxic relationship. They just turn into a whole other person. They’re angry and you don’t know what they are going to do.

So, Heath continues to drive after Katie. She’s gotten pretty far and is pretty close to where Heath died in real life. However, she falls over. She clutched the medal-cat-thing and fell. Heath went over her, and he basically blew up. He screamed and there were a lot of flames.

Katie woke up again in her own room, and she realized she is was holding Heath’s medal.

“The cord was almost completely burned away, but on the face of the medal Katie could still make out the scorched image of the jungle cat.”

(pg. 211)

Katie puts this medal in a box and leaves it under her bed. Despite the temptation, she never opens the box, she’s too scared of what she will or will not see.

Katie’s life hasn’t changed. She still writes in her diary, that she’s dating Jason, and she has kept all the friends she had before, including Raquelle. Katie questioned if what she saw was actually real or not, or if she made everything up in her head. The book ends and the readers are left to think.

I am still getting Coraline vibes from this book and ending. There’s no way to know for sure if Katie got her happy ending. Katie last interacted with Heath in a dream, maybe she’s still in the dream but Heath does not let her know this? Heath claims he got Katie popular, and that he was the reason she is now dating Jason. We learn that these things do not change, is there a reason for this beyond Katie changing a bit in a new high school?

I have already classified Katie as an unreliable narrator. There’s no way for us to know if she is dreaming or not. At least, not anymore. I do have an idea: if the medal has disappeared from the box, she is in the real world. None of the evidence of Heath remained in the real world. However, they stayed in the ‘other’ world. This is just an idea, an idea that doesn’t really have any evidence, like, at all.

I don’t know what to think of the book. I 100% see similarities between it and fanfiction you would read on this website or others. I am glad to have finished it, but I wish it was longer. I feel that a longer book would have gotten me more invested. The relationship between Katie and Jason should have been explored more. This also goes for Katie’s relationship with Heath. The book is called, “Dream Date,” you’d think Katie was more connected to him in the beginning.

I’m glad I read this book with Izzy. It was a nice way to not work on other homework. It both peaked our interests, especially when the ‘Coraline’ like aspects came into play. I will admit: this doesn’t seem like a book that will follow me. I don’t think I will ponder about Katie’s fate until Izzy and I get together. I can say that I would have liked it more if relationships, characters, and the world were explored more. If we are rating this book out of 5 stars, I think I would give it a 3. It’s certainly not the best book I have read. It would have gotten a two, but it impressed me. I smile at the thought that a book like this -borderline fanfiction- was published, in Scholastic no less. When I do remember Dream Date, written by Sinclair Smith, I’ll smile.

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skyler10fic · 2 years

Text

Recruit: Ch. 3 The Program

Fic summary: Daisy Johnson, Carol Danvers, Jemma Simmons, and Leo Fitz each decide to join Shield as students at Carter Academy, but when a school camping trip goes awry, will they rise to the occasion and help defeat the evil Pantheon? And will Melinda May’s Shield team survive their mission to reclaim what Pantheon has stolen from them?

Chapter summary: Daisy, Carol, Jemma, and Fitz find out about the "program" Fury is recruiting them for--or at least, they sign up to be part of it, even if they aren't quite sure what it is they are agreeing to...

A/N: AU gonna AU. This is a different universe, so let go of canon and assumptions and motives coming in. :)

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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Daisy, Carol, Fitz, and Jemma (Fitz’s “friend to invite” from his video from Fury) arrived at the unmarked building at the designated time. The doors opened automatically and closed behind them. The four found themselves in a dimly lit gymnasium, but the floors, walls, and high warehouse ceilings had been painted black. Giant Shield logos marked the center of each wall and the floor. Various equipment, targets, and padding were scattered along the walls. A few other students wandered in, each looking as clueless as the others.

An old video began to play on one of the black walls. Captain Steve Rogers, one of the first Shield agents, began to talk. He was dressed in his legendary battle suit, all red, white, and blue. He had to have been close to retirement at this point. He sounded weary, and yet, wise.

“You are all gathered here because you have demonstrated abilities beyond your peers. Not physical abilities, but remarkable character and honor. Resilience in the face of struggle. You have been selected for a special program, the Secret Warriors. It is the highest honor you can receive at this stage of your Shield careers. But accepting this honor must be considered carefully. It will cost you.”

Captain Rogers looked especially solemn now.

“Being a Shield agent already takes a high toll. Your life and the lives of your team may be on the line any given day. But to become a Secret Warrior is to risk much more. Someday the freedom of many or even the fate of the world may be in your hands. Will you have what it takes to succeed, to sacrifice, to protect? Will you be the Shield?”

Captain Rogers seemed to be looking directly at Daisy, or so she felt. His words were frustratingly vague but awakened something inside of her, something that had always known she was meant for more.

In stark contrast, the silence in the room after the video was broken by the bored but loud voice of a gym teacher. “Hello all, my name is Gordon, you can call me Gordon, or Agent Gordon if you are trying to impress someone, but you won’t impress me so Gordon is fine.” A man with a buzz cut and wrap-around Oakley sunglasses (especially odd given the darkness in the gym) stepped into view on a platform and gestured to two figures in the shadows. “This is Alisha, you can call her Agent Whitley, and this is the program’s global director, Jiaying, though you probably won’t call her anything because she’s almost never here, and if she is, you probably won’t be aware of it. I won’t ask if you have any questions because I know you have more than we have time to answer, and I can’t answer them all right now anyway. Continuing on with our tour, you have the equipment; do not destroy it. You have weights; do not throw them. You have padding; it is for your protection, not for recreation or procreation or anything else beds are for. If you use a weapon on a fellow student in an aggressive manner outside of training time, you will be expelled. If you attack an instructor or faculty member, you will be prosecuted. To the left are the locker rooms, to the right is the door. Leave now if this is not your thing; we don’t have time to waste on washouts in this program.”

Daisy and Carol exchanged a look just as Jemma and Fitz did the same. Sure, this was all bizarre, but that was life in Shield. They were staying.

Gordon stepped off the platform and sauntered over to Jemma and Fitz. He pointed to two sliding glass doors with Shield logos etched on them. “Over here is the lab; that’s for you two.”

“For us to do what exactly?” Jemma inquired cautiously.

“Anything we need. Biochemistry, medical, engineering, you’ll be trained in all of it and have a great deal of opportunity to invent new things to contribute. Every warrior is different. Every gift is different. You’ll help them complete their missions, your missions,” he gestured to all of them, “with your own gifts.”

“What gifts?” Daisy dared to ask.

“You’ll see.” Gordon gave her a half smile and resumed his place on the platform. “You will be here at 7 a.m. every day once the semester starts. Your schedules will be created with this in mind. Until then, prepare yourselves. Learn to fight, learn to think, learn to question, to lead, and to follow. This program will teach you to see the world differently than you thought possible.” Gordon removed his sunglasses. Instead of the blinded eyes they were expecting, Gordon simply had no eyes at all. They were just indentations of skin. The two women in the shadows came to stand beside him and in an instant they were gone, consumed by a purple bubble of energy with Gordon at the center.

“Wot the hell.” Fitz stared at the spot.

“I’d heard rumors of people in Shield with unusual abilities but …” Jemma was pale but intrigued. Carol and Daisy, however, turned to each other and grinned.

“Okay, that was cool,” Daisy admitted. “Finally, a school with something to teach.”

Carol laughed in shock. “Do you think… are we here to learn to teleport?”

Fitz shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. Though tech like that is way beyond me. I … I don’t know how to build that or even begin to know how to work on it.”

“Certainly would make spycraft easier,” Jemma admitted. “You’re right. It’s probably just tech. Not superpowers.”

“Wait, you think it could be superpowers?” Daisy grew excited. Jemma was the smartest person she knew. If Jemma believed in superpowers…

“He did have an uncanny ability to see us, everything around him, with no eyes,” Jemma pointed out.

Carol just grinned and nodded. “Cool. I think I’m going to like this place.”

The already dim lighting began shutting off while the lights at the exit illuminated, visually ushering them to the door. An extraordinarily tall agent stopped each student at the exit before they filtered out.

“Sign this.” The agent held out a tablet with text to read.

“Stepping outside this door, you acknowledge that everything you saw, heard, said, smelled, tasted, or felt in this building never happened,” Jemma read aloud. “This applies to each subsequent visit, mention of the Secret Warriors program (henceforth referred to as The Program), and any involvement in The Program whatsoever. No one you know excepting those present here today shall have knowledge of its existence or your involvement or anyone involved.”

“So, basically, it’s secret,” Carol summed up dryly.

“Wait, I can’t even tell my parents? They’re in Shield too.” Daisy was still trying to figure out what it meant to be a legacy and so far being Melinda and Phil’s daughter had carried more weight than being plain ol’ Daisy herself.

The agent shook his head and pointed to the screen.

“Okay, got it.”

The four signed and left with their fellow students, wandering out to wherever they had agreed to meet up with their family and friends.

“So, what do we tell them?” Daisy asked her friends. No one had a good answer.

Phil saw them walking in the dark across the lawn back to the cafeteria and met up with them. Melinda and Allan were not far behind, but just out of earshot.

“How was your meeting?” Phil asked quietly. They each exchanged looks but stayed quiet.

“Good!” Daisy answered. “Just freshman stuff, you know.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I reviewed each of your applications.”

“But we didn’t…” Jemma started, but Phil cut her off.

“They were very impressive. It’s an honor to be accepted. But, of course, we wouldn’t want to make anyone jealous, so best not to spread it around.”

“Yeah, we get it, Dad.” Daisy clapped him on the shoulder.

“I just want you to know, as a faculty sponsor of the program, I’m here. I can’t answer most of your questions, but if things come up, if you decide not to go through with it or need support, I’m your guy.” He looked each of them over. They just smiled, unsure if they were being tested already.

Melinda and Allan caught up with them, and they all exchanged contact information so they could keep in touch in the weeks before school started. In some ways, it was exactly what they expected college to be like. In other ways, it was going to be unexplainably stranger.

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

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Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

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

Chapter 1 (of 5) (Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

“Crowley! Wake up, you son of a bitch, wake up!”

Crowley opens his eyes to Dean shaking him hard by the shoulders. Which is strange: the last thing Crowley remembers, he was dying, alone and forgotten in a parallel universe.

He isn’t there anymore. Instead, Dean is kneeling over him in a dome of golden light beyond which everything is dark, and for a brief, absurd moment he’ll chastise himself for later, Crowley thinks he’s somehow ended up in Heaven.

Then he glances past Dean and sees Sam with an exhausted-looking Castiel slumped against him; next to them is a younger man Crowley doesn’t recognize, but his eyes are molten gold, the same color as the dome surrounding them all. The amount of raw power emanating from the golden-eyed man makes every one of Crowley’s hairs stand on end, and not in a good way.

No, definitely not his idea of Heaven.

Crowley snaps his gaze back to Dean. “What—” he begins, but Dean cuts him off, hauling him to his feet.

“No time for questions!” Dean yells, and it’s only then that Crowley registers the roar coming from beyond the dome: it’s as though they’re standing in the eye of a hurricane as all around them things blow apart. “Come on, we gotta go!”

And then they’re all running, the dome of light moving with them like a shield as wispy black wraiths crash and burn against its perimeter and somewhere unseen, a hideous voice howls in rage.

*****

Once they’re safely back in the Bunker war room, Dean takes hold of Castiel and, along with the golden-eyed man—whose irises have faded to a soft, concerned blue—ushers him off in the direction of the infirmary, promising gruffly as he goes that he and Crowley will talk later.

Patience, however, is a virtue, and Crowley isn’t feeling particularly virtuous—especially not after seeing how tenderly Dean and Castiel looked at each other as Dean wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist and led him from the room. The sight had left a bitter taste in Crowley’s mouth, one he does his best to ignore. There will be time for that later; right now, he needs answers, and he’s not waiting on Dean in order to get them.

He crosses his arms and fixes Sam with an expectant glare. “All right, Moose,” he says, "out with it: what in God’s name is going on?”

Sam snorts, looking tired. “Um, yeah, about that...” He gestures towards the map table, then heads over to the liquor cabinet. “You...might wanna sit down.”

Crowley arches a brow, but he does as Sam suggests. Sam joins him a moment later and, after pouring them each a drink, spends the better part of the next hour telling Crowley all that’s transpired in the three years—three years—Crowley’s been dead.

Which is, it turns out, rather a lot.

Lucifer’s spawn survived his birth and is none other than the golden-eyed man Crowley saw when he woke up; his name is Jack, and for all intents and purposes, he considers Castiel to be his father.

An alternate version of Michael got a hold of Dean for a while, until Jack killed Michael at the cost of his soul, then, in a soulless rage, killed Mary.

God killed Jack. All Hell broke loose. Rowena, who’d apparently survived Lucifer’s last attempt to kill her, died to fix it and was now Queen of Hell.

Billie brought Jack back to kill God. Dean tried to kill Billie, so Billie tried to kill him. Castiel managed to take Billie out by admitting his love for Dean, at which point the Empty took Castiel—

Of course, thinks Crowley, the bitter taste in his mouth returning with a vengeance. Of. Bloody. Course...

The brothers had stormed the Empty not for him, but for Castiel. Good, noble, righteous Castiel, the wayward Angel of Thursday who’s been hopelessly in love with Dean for longer than Crowley has known him...and whom, it seems, Dean has finally admitted to loving back. Sam and Dean had saved Castiel because they loved him, because Dean loved him, but Crowley...They’d probably only rescued him because they’d figured they owed him for saving their denim-clad arses that day at the lake.

Now, as Crowley half-listens to Sam talk about defeating God, he glowers down at the map table and wishes they hadn’t bothered bringing him back at all, because it’s one thing to die unloved; it’s another to have to live that way. Crowley’s done both, and he knows which he prefers. At least in the Empty, he’d been at peace.

“Crowley? Hey, you okay?”

He looks up to see Sam regarding him from under a furrowed brow. Bollocks...

“Naturally,” Crowley says, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive smile. “That’s quite a tale, Moose. It sounds like you and Squirrel have outdone yourselves these past few years, even managed to pull one over on God; bravo. I’m sure Lucifer’s spawn will make a spectacular replacement: he is, after all, three.”

Sam’s eyes harden. “Jack’s nothing like Lucifer; he’s good, and he’s got us to help him, and Amara—”

“Oh, Amara! Now there’s a recipe for success if I’ve ever heard one: God’s evil sister and her Satanic great-nephew with billions of raw souls at their disposal. How could that possibly go wrong?” Crowley scoffs, shaking his head. “Honestly, there’s just no learning with you lot, is there? You just keep humming the same damn tune, then acting surprised when the notes turn sour, and it never even occurs to you to pick. A new. Bloody. Song.”

The frown on Sam’s face intensifies. “This is different. Jack, Amara, they’re on our side, and now that Rowena’s in charge of Hell—”

Crowley snorts. “Right. Care to wager on how long that lasts?” Then, at the look of sudden wariness on Sam’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Moose; that wasn’t me plotting a coup. I have no plans to try and take back the crown.”

“You don’t?”

“Why on earth would I?” Crowley takes a sip of brandy, grimacing slightly at the flavor—for all the changes the past few years have wrought, the Winchesters’ abominable taste in liquor remains tragically consistent. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I hated Hell as much as the blasted place hated me. If Mother thinks she can do better, she can have it.”

They sit without speaking for a moment; then Sam clears his throat. “You know,” he says quietly, “Rowena regrets how things ended between the two of you.”

Crowley stiffens, a stab of anger piercing his gut. “No, she doesn’t.”

“She does,” Sam insists, and how anyone can look so stupidly earnest is beyond Crowley’s ability to comprehend. “She told us so.”

Crowley scoffs. “And you believed her?” he demands, left hand closing into a fist at his side. “You know, for the longest time, I thought you were the smart one.”

Sam sighs. “Crowley...Look, I’m not saying Rowena’s perfect—”

“She’s quite literally the Queen of Hell, Moose.” Crowley manages to keep his voice level, but his fingernails are digging into his palm. “I’d say that’s about as far from perfect as anyone can get.”

“—but I think you two should talk.”

Crowley’s hand starts to bleed.

“I mean it,” continues Sam, when Crowley says nothing. “When I was a kid, my dad...he wasn’t there the way he should’ve been, and we fought a lot, and there were times I felt like I hated him, but when he died...”

A multitude of emotions flicker across Sam’s face in rapid succession, too fast for Crowley to name them all, but the final one, the one Sam looks back at him with, is regret. “When he died,” Sam continues, “I didn’t care about any of that. And maybe I should have. I know I should have. Believe me, I tried. But I just...kept coming back to the fact that what I was feeling, the good and the bad, I’d never get to actually say it to him, and if he was somehow sorry for the bad, that was something I’d never get to hear.”

Crowley’s anger flares white hot; his hidden palm is slick with blood. “If you have a point,” he growls, “I’d encourage you to come out with it.”

“My point,” says Sam, curtly, “is that you actually have a chance at some closure, and I think you should take it. For your own sake.”

Crowley clenches his jaw, looks away. “For my own sake,” he echoes, softly. As if his and Sam’s pain is the same. As if Rowena is capable of causing anything but. “Tell me, Moose: since when do you or your imbecile of a brother actually give a damn about my own sake?”

He raises his gaze to stare coldly at Sam who, for the first time since they sat down, seems at a genuine loss for words. Crowley snaps his glass down on the table and stands. “Thought as much.”

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and turns to go—where, exactly, he has no idea—only to nearly crash headlong into Dean, and suddenly, Crowley’s anger turns to outright fury, because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had gone up against Hell and his mother and even his own better judgment for Dean more times than he could count.

It didn’t matter that the two of them had shared a bed when Dean was a demon, doing extraordinary things to triplets that Crowley would have kicked out in a heartbeat if he’d thought he could get away with it.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had sacrificed his life to save Dean and Sam and the whole bloody world.

None of it mattered, because for all the times Crowley had chosen Dean, Dean had never once chosen him. Then again, Crowley thinks, maybe it’s his own fault for expecting any different, his due comeuppance for stupidly believing he deserved to be loved. It doesn’t matter; he knows better now.

“Hello, Dean,” he snarls. “Come to look in on me now that you’ve seen to your angel? Well you needn’t have bothered; I was just leaving.”

Dean frowns, crossing his arms. “The hell do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I mean get out of my way.”

“No.”

“And why not?” Crowley demands, voice rising. “Am I your prisoner? I’ve already told your oaf of a brother that I’ve no interest in causing any sort of trouble in Hell, so if that’s what this is about, then you can just—”

“Damn it, Crowley,” snaps Dean, “no, that’s not what this is about; it’s about where are you even gonna go. You got a place somewhere we don’t know about?”

“I’ll find one.”

“Or,” Dean counters, “you could cut the crap and just stay here.”

That catches Crowley off guard, but only for a moment; he gives Dean a hard look, determined not to let the surprise show on his face. “And why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because you know it’s the smart thing to do,” says Dean, face impassive, “and last I checked, you were an asshole, not an idiot.”

And it’s not that Crowley doesn't know full well that running off half-cocked into a world whose dynamics have fundamentally changed is naive at best and suicidal at worst—that isn’t what makes him nearly scream in rage, because he knows it’s patently true. No, the infuriating thing, the truly mortifying thing, is that Dean knows him well enough to know that he knows it, and that if Crowley does leave, he’s only going to prove Dean right.

The thought is more than Crowley can bear; still, if he doesn’t get out of this room right now, he’s going to start shouting—at Dean, at himself, at everything. There are other, less crowded places in this godforsaken Bunker, and it’s past time he went and found one. He’s not going to give Dean the satisfaction of watching him break.

Crowley pulls his fury tight and close, stepping forward into Dean’s space and glaring up at him with every bit of defiance he can muster. “Funny,” he sneers, “because last I checked, you were both.”

And he vanishes before Dean can respond.

*****

Crowley finds an unoccupied room at the far end of the hall and decides to claim it as his own for the time being. He bolts the door and turns to collapse onto the bed...only to freeze dead in his tracks.

His mother is standing in the corner. As Crowley gapes, Rowena takes a step forward, face pale and incredulous. “Fergus?” she whispers. “Gods, is it really you?”

Her voice snaps Crowley out of his shock, and he narrows his eyes. “Mother,” he growls, the word like poison in his mouth. “What do you want?”

“Sam told me they were going to try and get you back,” Rowena says softly, eyes roving over Crowley’s face as though seeing him for the first time, “and I wanted...I needed to see if they’d done it, if you were all right.”

Crowley glares, making a mental note to have a word with Sam about this particular indiscretion. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now get out.”

Rowena recoils, and if Crowley didn’t know any better, he’d swear his words actually hurt her. “You’re angry,” she says. “You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” Crowley snaps. He clenches both hands into fists, ignoring the burn in his left palm. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I’d want to hear? You hate me, remember?”

“I love you—”

Crowley barks out a laugh. “Really? Have you forgotten the last time we saw each other? You left on a bus after you sent my son to his death, all because you wanted to watch me ‘suffer the loss of a child’, of my child!” He stumbles towards her, half-blind with rage. “Tell me, Mother: did losing me bring you any suffering, or were you just sad you weren’t there to collect three pigs in exchange?”

Rowena looks as though she’s been slapped. “Of course I suffered! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to get you back? I faced Death herself; I begged her to return you to me, but she wouldn’t do it! Ask Sam, ask Dean!”

“They’ve already told me,” Crowley grinds out. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Rowena is crying now, tears rolling freely down her face. “Of course it matters! I did it because I missed you, because I love you!”

“You’ve never loved me a day in your life.”

“That isn’t true! I did love you; I do!” Rowena takes another step forward and reaches out a hand. “If you could just find it in your heart to forgive me—”

“Forgive you?” Crowley snarls, and it’s all he can do not to spit in her face. “You don’t get to ask for my forgiveness, not after any one thing you’ve put me through, not after everything! What was it you said to me that day at the bus station, your parting words? ‘Who better than me to crush your shriveled heart’? At least I had a heart, once; you never did.”

“Fergus—”

And Crowley explodes. “GET OUT!” he screams, seizing the lamp off the bedside table and hurling it at his mother with all his might...only to watch as it flies right through her and crashes into the wall.

And then Rowena’s gone, just like she always is, and Crowley’s alone, just like he always is. He stands in the middle of the room and stares hollowly into empty space. “Astral projection,” he says, quietly; it always had been one of his mother’s favorite tricks. “Of course.”

He spends the rest of the night warding the room as many ways as he knows how, determined not to let his mother or anyone else get the drop on him again.

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #crowley fic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fix-it fic #spn fix-it fic #fanfiction #a new kind of life #my writing #here we gooooo!!!

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 3

In which: Danny getting yeeted into the Lazarus Pit yields anticlimactic consequences and Bruce Wayne converses with a fruit loop.

AO3 | Prologue | 2 | [ 3 ] | 4 |

DANIEL BARELY HAD TIME TO SCREAM before he’s plunged into the green depths of the Lazarus pit, primeval waves crashing against the walls of the pool. Talia flicked her wrist, signaling the ten League members hidden in the shadows to approach. Each one spaced equally apart around the pit with smoke pellets synthesized from blood blossoms held in their hands, ready to drop at a moment’s notice.

Pit madness rendered the majority of the living uncontrollable, with even the weakest of humans imbued with a strength that could only be induced by the purest of rage. The League was not taking chances as to how a being like her son would react to it.

The waters stilled.

Then—

A bright flash of light. Then, faster than the eyes could follow, a figure erupted from the waters. Bone white hair that twisted and curled as if it were still underwater. Skin lightly tinged frostbitten blue and clad in a suit of black and white and shrouded in an aura of blinding light. Phantom appeared from the depths, floating above the pit like a god reborn.

His eyes burned a toxic green.

“What the fuck was that?”

But not pit madness green.

Talia ordered her assassins to at ease with a raise of her hand. She slowly walked to her father’s side just as her son—Phantom—landed at the edge of the pool. Idly, Talia noticed how different Phantom seemed in comparison to her son. Physical attributes aside, Daniel tended to make himself smaller. What venom that may coat his words and the vitriol in his glares dampened by the way he held himself. Shoulders hunched and head tilted down. Non-threatening. Hands always needing to do something, whether it be holding his arms or shoved inside his pockets or constantly brushing it through his hair. No matter how she and his instructors taught him how to hold himself like a warrior, like a soldier, he still tended to present himself as a skittering little animal.

Phantom was different. He squared his soldiers and lifted his chin high, unafraid to stretch out to his fullest height and use his defiance of gravity to make himself look bigger. Stronger. His arms held steady at his sides, curled into tight fists. Green eyes—green as the Lazarus pit yet without that spark of madness that so consumed everyone else—burning with righteous fury.

“You fucking threw me into the weird green pool. What even—who does that?”

Ra’s tilted his head. “Fascinating. It seems you have a resistance to the pit madness.”

Phantom blinked, caught off guard. “Pit…madness,” he echoed. A statement, though from the wrinkle in his brows and the look he shoots Talia, it was more a question than anything else.

“It is one of the side effects of the Lazarus pits.” Talia approached her son with caution, holding his face with both hands and inspecting for any differences. “While the waters rejuvenate, restore, and even temporarily imbue one with supernatural strength, it also tends to inflict users with temporary insanity.”

“Insanity?” His eyes widened, trembling hands coming up to hold her wrists. Strangely, Daniel did not pull away from her touch. “I could have gone insane?”

Those bright eyes of his looked so frightened. Haunted. Pupils dilated to mere pinpricks of blackness, lost in a sea of Lazarus green. “Oh habeebi, only temporarily.”

“Like that’s better!” He yelled. “Even temporarily, I’m—” He staggered back, breaking out of her hold. Harmless Danny Fenton bleeding into proud Phantom as he ran his hands through his hair, unwilling to look at anyone.

Ra’s continued to watch, his arms crossed beneath his sternum, muttering to himself. Her father had prided himself on being one of the most knowledgeable about the Lazarus pits and its effects. Now, faced with a new mystery, the scholar within the Demon’s Head emerged as he observed his grandson.

“No,” Ra’s said, mostly to himself. “Perhaps less of a ‘resistance’ and more of an ‘immunity’ to it, given how both Daniel and the Lazarus pit have similar compositions. It would be a fascinating tangent to follow.” He chuckled to himself. “How droll. The life-restoring Lazarus pit holding a connection to the land of the dead.”

Talia turned to her father. “So, Daniel will not feel any of the pit’s side effects, then?”

Daniel perked up at the sound of his name, halting in his pacing. “I…might not go insane?”

“Perhaps, though it is too soon to tell. You have the waters of the Lazarus pit flowing through your veins, Daniel.” Ra’s smiled; eyes gleaming with the sparks of pride. “You and it are made of the same chemicals, the same reality-defying compounds that can bring the dead back to life.”

“Well, great. I have the same chemical makeup as a glowing hot tub, what else is new—” Her son staggered, and she caught him. Impossibly bright rings formed at his abdomen and then split, transforming Phantom back into a human. Mortal. His face haggard and sweating from the temples, eyes back to her beloved’s pale blues.

Her father did not bat an eye. “The pit’s healing effects are slowed down, then? Or perhaps it is because he has no wounds to heal?” Ra’s hummed; chin cradled in his hand. “Set him back into the pits, Talia. I believe young Daniel has yet to absorb all his needed energy.”

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine. Put me back in the crazy water, why not?” Daniel tugged at her shoulders. “Just…gently, please?”

Talia smoothed down his dark hair with a smile. “Of course, habeebi. I will even stay with you as well.”

When he looked at her, it was something almost akin to gratefulness.

------

In Gotham City, the upper echelons of society gather together at the Gotham Expo Center. The shining halls, which had been used as the site of a week-long exhibition of new scientific research, was reoutfitted to serve as the venue for the exhibition’s final event.

A gala. The hunting ground of the nouveau riche and old money families. Corporate moguls and debutants made their rounds across the floor, chatting with heirs and politicians and the who’s who of the upper class.

Scientists and researchers attempted to step out of their shells and dazzle the crowds. Wanting to fish a willing patron with deep pockets to fund their next project. Reporters huddled together like schools of fish, warily approaching the predators in their midst for a question or a photo. Both things many of the wealthy and affluent are easily ready to give, as long as it only showed off their best side in tomorrow’s society papers.

Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, and society’s darling observed everything as he always did, in that most people believed he barely noticed anything beyond what’s right in front of him. He raised the flute glass of champagne to his lips, pretending to take a sip as he listened to the chatter of sycophants around him. A few were even some promising researchers of which he made a mental note to pass along to Lucius.

Two nights ago, Bruce received a tip of unusual movements from the League of Assassins. The organization had been quiet as of late, and while Bruce had been very carefully monitoring their activities in the background, the sudden tightening of their security prompted him to take a closer look.

There had been sightings of the League of Assassins centered around a small town in Illinois—Amity Park. A rural tourist trap championing itself as the most haunted place in America. Something that Bruce would normally scoff at or zealously research about if not for John Constantine’s warning to “never go within a ten-mile radius of that hellhole.” With similar sentiments from others in the occult community, the Justice League decided to take that warning to heart. Bruce’s curiosity may have been piqued, but even he was tactful enough to avoid courting more trouble.

Suffice to say, Bruce—and especially Batman—could not afford to ignore Ra’s al Ghul’s movements. Whatever his plans were involved whatever anomalies were going on in Amity Park. And wasn’t it simply serendipitous that one of the guest lists for tonight’s gala was Vlad Masters, the mayor of Amity Park?

“Vlad Masters, is that you?” Bruce, slapping on his signature Brucie smile, masterfully detached himself from his previous group, quickly heading towards the nearby bar where he spotted Vlad getting another drink.

“Why, Bruce Wayne, it’s been so long!” The two shook hands, of which Bruce was slightly surprised at how cold to the touch Vlad was. A health condition, perhaps. Then again, there was something in Vlad’s appearance and stature that spoke of a deeper reason.

“It’s been, what, two years? What brings you to Gotham?”

“Business; the usual really.” Despite whatever friendly aura they’re projecting, Bruce Wayne and Vlad Masters weren’t friends. More acquaintances that have been forced to mingle a few times because of the nature of their business and the demands of high society. From what Bruce knows, Vlad is a business tycoon that’s as blindingly charismatic as he was infamous for his quick rise to wealth and a few rather shady dealings.

Bruce stuck his hand in his pocket. “Well Vlad, last we all heard was you dipping your toes into politics. You’re a, uh, what, a governor?”

Vlad let out an obviously fake chuckle. “Oh nothing as grand as that. I’m only a small-town mayor, really.”

“Right!” Bruce snapped his fingers. “So, what’s that like?”

“Oh dreadful work, really. So much paperwork, so many things to do or oversee, but rewarding in its own way.” He puffed out his chest. “Many of the people in Amity Park do rely on me, you know. Though I’m afraid my schedule’s busy enough that I barely have time to go home!”

“Well, we’re very happy that you made room enough to visit us here in Gotham.”

Bruce sensed Damian coming to stand beside him and instinctually placed a hand around his shoulder. Though his youngest had been steadily adjusting to his new life here in Gotham, he still preferred to stick to his father’s shadow than mingle with those of his own age groups at galas. (Then again, Bruce was very similar when he was younger so perhaps it was a genetic thing).

He smiled down at Damian—frowning as he’d rather be patrolling the streets in uniform as opposed to schmoozing with people he hardly cared about. “Have you met my son, Vlad? Damian, this is Vlad Masters, a business partner and a, uh—” He scrunched his face, pretending to remember what Vlad’s current occupation is. “Mayor of some small town out west.”

Bruce turned to look at Vlad, expecting to see some variation of ‘insulted but trying to keep up a polite façade’—only to freeze.

Vlad’s face paled considerably. His beady eyes comically wide as he looked at Damian, the fingers curled around the stem of his flute glass bone white. Damian, unnerved, steadied his stance but shifted minutely closer to Bruce.

Well, this was interesting. “You alright, Vlad? You looked like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Vlad jerked his head towards Bruce. Surprise—and fear? —contorted his features for a brief moment before smoothed back down into a proper mask. “Mayor of Amity Park, yes. My apologies,” he chuckled. “Young—Damian, was it? —only reminded me of someone I knew once.” He shifted his gaze back to Damian. “The resemblance is actually quite uncanny.”

Damian furrowed his brows. “Amity Park?”

“You’ve heard of it, Damian?”

“I would be surprised if you did.” Vlad masters took a small ship of his champagne. “Then again, it should be expected that you might have heard of it. The town does love it’s ghosts.”

Bruce laughed. “What, like Casper?”

“Something like that, yes.” There’s a tightness to Vlad’s voice. “Amity Park is its own breed of strange. We’ve handled things well enough on our own in the past, and quite honestly you get used to all of the spooks eventually. Though I must say the shadows are quite new—I’d often ask myself if I should petition your city’s vigilante and put him on the case.

“Shadows?”

Vlad easy smile shifted into a faint grimace. “They have a rather nasty habit of snooping.”

------

Despite Bruce and Damian’s attempt at plying Vlad for more answers, Vlad kept his mouth shut, evading questions and changing topics skillfully. Something that only raised Bruce’s alarm that something was going on.

“So,” Bruce unbuttoned his suit as he stepped into the car, “How did you hear of Amity, Damian? Ghosts and ghouls don’t exactly seem like something you’d be interested in.”

He waited for Damian to buckle his seatbelt before shifting the Bentley into drive and pulling out of the Expo. They had stayed at the gala long enough, making their rounds and giving the media enough for a headline in the society pages.

Damian rested his hand against the window. His face scrunched as he watched the looming facades of Gotham’s architecture pass by. “Mother mentioned the name once or twice,” he said. “I was not…privy to every operation that happened in the League, so I don’t know anything despite that my grandfather took an interest in Amity.”

“And I’m sure that from Masters’ odd phrasing, Ra’s didn’t just magically lose that interest either.” He narrowed his eyes. “Contact Oracle and have her dig up everything we need to know about the situation in Amity Park. I think it’s time Batman made his introductions to some out-of-town guests.”

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #phantom children.txt

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 18: Told You I’d Say Yes

Summary: Steve, Katie and Sam begin their search for Bucky and they uncover something that makes Steve start to question where their priorities as a team should lie. Decision made, the two of them head back to the Tower in New York to join up with the other adventures, and when Katie’s 30th birthday arrives, Steve asks a very differen question…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. And a whole lotta teeth rotting fluff…

A/N: I think this is my favourite edit yet, @angrybirdcr

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

Chapter 17

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve had no real leads and as such he, Katie and Sam spent weeks combing through the information that Natasha had provided, using JARVIS to translate the Russian which none of them spoke of course. It was hard work, stressful and gave them nothing of real use either, other than give them a bit more of an understanding of who the Winter Soldier was, so to speak, and then Sam had a brainwave. If Bucky was starting to get his memories back and pieced together that he had been working for Hydra under duress, he might go looking for answers, possibly even revenge.

They decided to start in the nearest Hydra base they knew about from the leaks on the internet, and as such they were now ransacking an old abandoned bank in the financial district in the middle of the night.

What they found wasn’t great- a dozen bodies of dead Hydra agents. Most looked as if they had had their throats crushed apart from one who was sat in a chair, a bullet between his eyes. From the look, and smell, they’d been there a while.

“That’s an execution.” Sam muttered, nodding at the man who had been shot and Katie looked at him as Steve simply turned and walked from the smaller room, back into the larger corridor. He made his way down, pulling open a thick door into the main vault and stopped dead as he saw some form of chair in the middle, surrounded by restraints and a device that looked like some kind of macabre halo. Steve felt his mouth go dry as he looked at it. I was some perverted form of the chamber he’d been in when they’d administered the serum…

“Looks like they were deleting data when they were interrupted…” Sam bent over to get a closer look at the computer to the side. Katie passed him the device she had brought and he plugged it in and started the data mining. As Steve made his way towards the two of them, Sam frowned and clicked on something that caught his attention and immediately the sounds of tortured screams filled the room. Katie jolted slightly as Sam took a step back, the three of them glancing at the screen which was sat on the desk. And all 3 wished they hadn’t. As there, on the screen Bucky was strapped down the halo-like contraption lowered onto his head.

“Turn it off!” Katie instructed to Sam, who moved to cut the footage immediately but Steve grabbed his arm.

“No…” he said firmly, his eyes fixated on the grim footage in front of him, his chest heaving with anger.

Finally the screams stopped and someone was saying words as they were in Russian but when they finished Bucky slumped down in the chair staring blankly ahead, as he spoke a single sentence, his face and voice completely void of expression and emotion.

There was a moment of silence when Steve suddenly snapped grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it over with a loud crash, all of the equipment and computers meeting a rather abrupt end along with it. He felt sick, upset, angry…and he couldn’t help but feel this was his fault for leaving his friend behind.

“Steve?” Katie asked anxiously, whilst she watched his shoulders heave with anger.

“Let’s go.” He instructed sternly, already making his way to the exit.

“Steve?” She called again.

“Now.” He bit back.

Steve didn’t speak a word whilst they drove home. Once they were in the apartment he stormed straight through the hall and up the stairs to the bed room. Katie turned to Sam who was hovering in the hall.

“That went well.” he quipped.

Katie sighed, walking into the kitchen and handed Sam a water which he thankfully took, draining it in one go.

“The thing is, Sam…” she ran a hand over her face “It’s gonna get worse, the more we dig, the more we’re going to find.”

“Yeah well, on that note I’m going to go back to the bank, do a bit more digging of my own tonight.” Sam sighed “See if I can find something that would give us an indication as to when exactly Bucky hit the base, might help us piece together a timeline of sorts.”

“Alright, but be careful, yeah?”

“I’m always careful, sugar!” Sam grinned, and Katie rolled her eyes. “Listen, you gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll give him some time. He’ll come round, he’s just…” she paused searching for the right word before she concluded “sad.”

Sam nodded “Call you tomorrow then, I’m at the VA in the morning but my afternoon is free”

“Will do…oh, and Sam?”

He turned around and Katie threw him the keys to the Q5 as he still hadn’t replaced his car. “Take this, but bring it back in once piece.”

“Cheers dude!” He beamed, catching the keys expertly before he headed out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie walked over to the sofa and dropped down onto it, pulling out her phone. She knew it was late, but Tony answered straight away.

“Did it work?” She asked instantly.

“Did it work…” Tony snorted “I made the damned device, of course it did. JARVIS took everything off their system…he’s already sifting through and cross referencing… any mention of Barnes in any form he’ll find it.”

“Thanks Tony.”

“There is something he has found thought, that’s kinda interesting, but also very worrying.”

“What?”

“He found an encoded list of locations, locations for HYDRA bases across the globe. Curiosity got the better of me, and I ran a couple of cross checks on the bases that were already captured or infiltrated, and it matches 80%…”

“Yeah, there’s bases out there that didn’t fall… that’s what Fury’s doing, you know this.”

“Well here’s the thing…” Tony sighed “That 80% rallies to around 10 bases. One-Eye-Willy knew about 6, which he is currently working on with SHIELD or whatever they’re called now. The other 4 were unknown, until now.”

“Shit.” Katie sighed. If they had gone unknown, unchallenged, then it was possible that more of Hydra remained than they thought.

“Pretty much what Fury said when I called him.” Tony replied “Anyway, I think it’s time we put the band back together Kiddo…”

She groaned. “Steve already turned Fury down to find Bucky first.”

“Well, for once I’m inclined to agree with the Goth Pirate.” Tony continued “I think rounding the last of these bastards up is slightly more pressing than Spangles chasing his old school buddy.”

“Don’t call him that…” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Fury says he’ll make contact with Natasha and Clint, no idea how to reach Point Break though. I called his girlfriend, or paramour, whatever, who said he was off chasing something, no idea what, but when he comes back she’s gonna tell him we’re looking for him.”

“I’ll talk to Steve…but I can’t promise anything.”

“If anyone can talk him round it’s you.” He said, his voice adopting a more sympathetic tone “You know, there’s no reason why we can’t look for Barnes along the way. I mean it’s all Hydra, right?”

“Yeah, good point. Let me talk to him. I’ll call you tomorrow, or later today, whatever.”

“No sweat, take care. Love you kiddo.”

“You too Tones”

Katie dropped her phone onto the couch and sighed. Time to tackle Steve. She unzipped her combat boots, shucked them off and headed up the stairs. She gently opened the bedroom door and saw Steve, hair damp from the shower, led on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey.” She crawled onto the bed next to him and propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at him.

“Hi.” He rolled his head to accept the kiss she offered as she reached a hand up to twine in the hair at the top of his head. “I’m sorry.” He leaned into her hand like a dog seeking attention. Katie opened her arms to let Steve snuggle into them, like a child, as she rolled onto her back, his head laying on her chest as her hand continued to tangle in his hair.

“Do you think we’re wasting our time? Looking for him?” Steve asked after a moment.

Katie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Bucky has been brainwashed and tortured by HYDRA for longer than I’ve been alive. It’s going to take more than saving you from the river to bring back the man you knew” she took a deep breath “I think we’re going to struggle chasing someone as resourceful as he is when he doesn’t want to be found. And we may have another problem…”

“Like what?” He asked, frowning at her.

“I just spoke to Tony. J has been going through the info that we pulled from the servers. Apparently there’s a list of 4 secret Hydra bases that no one knew about, not even Fury, that didn’t go down when we took out SHIELD.”

Steve let out a groan “So now I have to choose, between Bucky and taking down what remains of Hydra…”

Katie kissed his head sympathetically as the turmoil raged within his brain. They couldn’t let Hydra get a foothold again. But he didn’t want to let Bucky down either.

“You know, going after Hydra might help.” Katie spoke softly “I mean, we have nothing other than vague ideas and supposition about where Bucky is or what he has planned next. We might find something along the way. In the meantime, Sam can keep working our current angle and line of thought.”

“You’re right.” he said after a pause “I’ve tried twice to bring these bastards down. I can’t let them slip through my fingers a third time.”

*****

“Gotta say Cap, you’re looking better than last time I saw you.” Tony grnned as they entered the lab in the tower.

“I feel it!” Steve smiled, shaking Tony’s hand.

“What you looking at?” Katie asked, nodding to the screen, taking in the map.

“Got JARVIS running a bit of an analysis on the bases we found out about. Terrain surrounding them, best places to land the jet, potential areas of weakness that kinda thing.” He said, “Could take a while but, best to be prepared with some form of plan I suppose.”

Katie turned to Steve, grinning, about to launch into a rendition of “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” but Steve gave her a filthy look, knowing full well what was going through her mind. She grinned at him innocently and he turned his attention back to Tony.

“Any news on the others?”

“Banner is due back at some point tomorrow. He’s at some kind of Scientist band camp…” Tony waved his hand. “Barton is on his way, but you already know that. As for Nat…well she said she’ll be here when she can…which just leaves Point Break to show, whenever he’s back from riding the rainbow road that is.”

“He’ll turn up.” Katie shrugged “If all else fails I’ll do what he told me to when we needed him.”

“Which was what?” Steve asked, looking at Katie, frowning. As if she knew how to contact him and hadn’t said anything…

“Stand on top of a tall building a shout.” she said, grinning. Steve gave a roll of his eyes as Tony snorted. “Although I think he may have been joking.”

“Maybe we should get him some kind of Bat Signal” Tony mused “but with a hammer instead of a bat.”

“No.” Katie shook her head and Tony pouted at her.

“Why do you always piss on my parade?”

“Because your parade is usually dumb. Look we’re gonna go upstairs and unpack a few things.”

“Sure.” Tony nodded. “Oh, happy said he’ll get your apartment in DC cleared over the next week, and I thought we could go for something to eat tonight. Do the whole…” he waved his hand in a circle motion as he looked back at the screen, “fmily thing.

“Sounds great.” Katie smiled, looking at Steve who nodded, thankful of something ‘normal’ to look forward to, and the pair of them made to leave.

“By the way, I renovated the living floors so your Penthouse has had a bit of a facelift.” Tony said. Katie stopped and turned to face him.

“What do you mean facelift?” She frowned “I liked my floor…”

“Yeah but when I did the rooms for everyone else they got new furniture so I ordered you some too. If you don’t like it you can change it, no big deal. I didn’t change the décor to much…I know how much of a princess you are about people touching your stuff”

“Princess here technically owns forty percent of this tower so…” She flicked him the finger and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah…there’s a spare suite for you anyway Spangles opposite Thor’s, you know, just in case you get pissed off with her. No one would blame you if you did…”

“You’re a dick.” She rolled her eyes at her brother and turned back towards the elevator.

In all fairness Katie did actually quite like the changes Tony had made. Her penthouse spanned the entire floor below Tony’s whilst everyone else shared a floor a couple of levels down with another Avenger. Perks of ownership, after all. There was a new coffee and cream coloured L shaped sofa in the room, a walnut coffee table replaced the glass one that had been there, and a brand new HD OLED TV adorned the wall opposite, along with a media system. A state of the art sound system was installed and the kitchen was completely new and had been knocked through to the dining area giving them a huge open plan space similar to the layout of the apartment in DC. There was frankly the biggest bed Steve had ever seen in the bedroom and the furniture was sleek, with a slightly smaller TV adorning the wall opposite the bed. The en-suite now sported his and hers sinks along with a double shower, a corner spa tub and there was a smaller bathroom just off the hallway along with another bedroom, a study and a balcony spanned the entire length of the floor, which was accessible from the main bedroom and the kitchen-diner. It overlooked the New York skyline and contained a small patio area and a hot-tub along with some outside furniture. But true to his word, Tony had kept the colour scheme. Different shades of blue throughout the bedroom, steel grey in the kitchen and warm coffee and walnut colours in the lounge.

Steve loved it.

As promised, late that evening, the two of them accompanied Pepper and Tony out for dinner. They had gone to Anatolia’s, an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Brooklyn much to Steve’s delight. It had been a really nice evening, the 4 drinking and eating far too much but as Tony had pointed out, things were about to get a little bit crazy so who knew when the next time they would get chance to relax and socialise was.

“Other than your 30th that is.” he said, looking at Katie over his wine.

“So there is something planned…” she grinned.

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged. Oh, he had something planned alright. He’d spoken to Tony about it a week or so ago, the Inventor gleefully agreeing with his idea.

“Man, my little sis is turning 30 in 3 weeks…I feel so old.” Tony continued to grumble.

“You are!” she teased.

“Yeah but not as old as your boyfriend…”

“Well done, you almost went a full evening without mentioning it.” Steve dead panned, folding his arms.

“You know he’s technically younger than me, Tones.” Katie said “

“What?” Steve looked at her, “How do you work that out.”

“You were born in July 1918 right, went into the ice in, what, March 1945?”

“Yeah…”

“Woke up in May 2012. So when you count how many years you spent actually awake and living, and not taking a cold nap, you’re really only 29 this time round.”

“So Captain America is your toy-boy?” Pepper giggled. Katie shrugged and took a sip of her wine as Tony and Steve looked at one another, both of them wearing expressions of bewilderment.

“Wait, does this mean we can throw a Happy 97 minus 67 party for Spangles next year?” Tony grinned and Steve let out a groan.

“See what you’ve done?” he looked at Katie with exasperation, and she just shrugged.

The night ended with a few drinks in a bar before a car picked them up and the couples both bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways

“That was proper pizza.” Steve said as they walked out of the elevator into their living area, the panel sliding in place leaving the door hidden.

Katie laughed as JARVIS gently flipped on the ambient lighting. “Well you certainly enjoyed it…getting through 2”

“Yeah, think the last 3 slices were a mistake” he mumbled as she headed into the kitchen. “They’re sitting in me like a brick.”

“Awwww poor baby!” she mocked thickly. “Getting so old you can’t even have a few slices without indigestion.”

“Hey, I’m younger than you, remember?” He laughed as Katie pulled 2 beers out of the fridge handing him one as she glided past him to flop onto the couch.

“I’m gonna regret pointing that out, aint i?” She laughed as Steve nodded.

*****

Katie had a meeting with her Editors and New Business department the next morning and Steve had a job of his own, a different mission that he was fucking nervous as hell about. He asked JARVIS where Tony was, who located him in the large, open plan main common room area of the tower, the one Loki and the Hulk had decimated 2 years previously.

“Tony you got a minute?”

“S'up Cap?”

Steve took a deep breath “I err…” his palms suddenly felt sweaty. “You know I love Katie and…" He cleared his throat before he looked Tony square in the eye, surprised to find the man watching him, warmth across his features. “She’s the most important thing in my life, and I…well, I wanted to ask for your permission, to ask her to marry me.”

“My permission?” Tony quipped.

“Well I’d normally ask her dad but…”

Tony smiled and glanced down at hands before he looked back at the blonde haired man stood besides him. “You gonna do better than a ‘we can get married if you want’ outside your apartment door?”

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head “she told you about that?”

“In the hospital” Tony smiled.

“Not my finest moment” Steve rubbed at his temple.

“Oh I dunno.” Tony said pushing off the front of the Bar area where he had been leaning. “Given the fact you were inches from death she was pretty upset at the fact she told you to come back with a Tiffany special…”

Steve smiled.

“You got one yet?” Tony asked. “A ring I mean.”

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Well it just so happens I know one of the consultants at Tiffany.” Tony smiled, and Steve looked at him, his face creeping into a smile as he knew that this was Tony’s confirmation he was giving him his blessing. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll make a call.“

The two men looked at one another, sharing a silent moment of respect before Tony reached out with his hand and Steve shook it, a shit-eating-grin spreading across his handsome features.

“Oh fuck this, come on Spangles, bring it in. I’m secure enough in my sexuality to hug another man.” Tony sniffed, and Steve stood up off the bar stool with a chuckle, the men exchanging a quick embrace, punctuated by a lot of back slapping.

“For what it’s worth…” Tony smiled as he stepped back, his eyes shining with emotion. “You make her happy, you treat her right, you put her first and I’ve never seen anyone metaphorically slap her back into place as well as you do….sorry, lot of dust in here…” he wiped at his suddenly watering eyes, water that may or may not have been tears before he took a breath and looked at Steve again “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather grant permission to.”

Steve smiled, his own eyes shining with emotion.

“And I’m pretty sure you’d have gotten it off dad too.” Tony nodded at him and Steve looked at the floor for a second before he glanced back up at him, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you Tony.”

*****

“What is this?” Thor’s voice was loud. “I can’t see them…”

“No you turn it…hang on” The 4 Avengers in the lab looked at one another, Tony grinning from ear to ear as Jane was trying to explain how to use the video call facility on her phone.

“He’s worse than you!” He grinned up at Steve who merely rolled his eyes as Bruce stifled a grin.

Eventually Thor’s face, or rather his left nostril filled their screen and all of them urged him to move the phone away. Finally he did so, and his handsome face beamed down at us all.

“Greetings!” he smiled “It is good to see you all again, Little Stark you look as radiant as ever.” “Thanks Thor!” Katie laughed as besides her Steve bristled a little bit.

“Jane says you need my help.”

“Yeah, we got a job Point Break.” Tony said.

“Is this to do with SHIELD and Hydra?” the God’s deep voice rumbled.

“You know about that?” Katie asked.

“Of course, it was all over the news. I watch that now, with Jane” he said, a glint in his eyes, “But that reminds me, I have a bone to pick with both you and the Captain…”

Steve frowned and looked at Katie, the pair of them sharing a glance before they looked back at the screen.

“I saw you both on the television fighting SHIELD alongside the Birdman…” Thor continued, ignoring Katie and Steve’s laughter as they both thought of Sam’s face if he could hear that nickname, “Why didn’t you call me? You know how much I love fighting.”

“They didn’t send for me either…” Tony said, putting his hand up.

“Call you, do you have a cell phone?” Katie looked at Thor.

“No, what for?”

She didn’t reply, instead she looked away trying not to laugh at the perplexed look on the God’s face

“We have a lot of loose ends to tie up.” Steve spoke, steering the conversation back to the purpose in hand. “Not all of Hydra went down when we took SHIELD out.”

Thor’s face split into a grin. “More fighting?”

“More fighting.” Tony said, as Banner let out a small sigh.

“Why is there always fighting?”

They explained the basics of what was going on to Thor, before he promised to join them as soon as he could and then Banner headed off to shower and to unpack following his trip.

“I’m going to head to the office for a few hours.” Katie said. Steve nodded.

“Tony and I have stuff to do.” he said simply, but met her gaze with a passive one of his own as she glanced at him, arching her eyebrow.

“Ohh…I get it…” she grinned, “You’re sorting my birthday surprise. Cute.” As she turned to go she walked straight into the desk behind her, jabbing the corner harshly into her thigh.

“You alright?” Steve asked, trying but failing to hide the chuckle in his voice at her clumsiness.

“Thanks for your genuine concern.” She grumbled, instantly rubbing where the sharp corner had dug into her. “Shit, that hurt…Jesus fucking Christ…”

"Ooooh, hey. You kiss Spangles with that mouth?” Tony raised an eyebrow at her

“Yes, Tony, I kiss him all over with that mouth.” She glared at him as she rubbed her thigh. “Every inch of –”

Tony clapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalalalalalala! I can’t hear you!”

Once Katie was out of earshot, Tony turned to Steve “You get it?”

He nodded, holding up his mother’s ring that he had managed to slip of when Katie was sleeping.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They drove the short distance into Manhatten, and Tony parked his car up in a private space behind the department store they were visiting. Steve followed him into the store where they were greeted by a small, grey haired mousy looking man dressed in an immaculate 3 piece suit.

“Mr Stark, Captain Rogers.”

“Hi Robert.” Tony smiled at him, clapping Steve on the shoulder “Take good care of him, he’s shitting himself.”

Steve sighed and shook his head but the inventor had already wandered off to the other side of the store, examining something in one of the glass cases.

“It’s perfectly understandable to be nervous, it’s a big thing.” Robert smiled, gesturing for Steve to follow him. He did, as they walked across the store to a small room at the back. Steve walked in and dropped into a seat. “So, do you have anything specific in mind?”

Steve took a deep breath, “Something elegant, but flashy enough to be special, I’ve no idea really, other than she prefers white gold to yellow.”

Robert smiled at him, “White gold or platinum. Ok. Any idea on the cut of diamond?”

“Princess.” Steve said, smiling. That he did know, from way before they were even dating.

“Oh my god!” Katie said, looking at the gossip magazine Natasha was reading, as Steve peered up at them from the seat behind his desk. “That’s fucking hideous.”

Natasha snorted “20 carat apparently.”

“Who the fuck needs a 20 carat ring?” Katie shook her head.

“I dunno, not something Tony would buy for Pepper?”

“Nah he isn’t that tacky.” she shook her head “And I’d kick his ass, it’s so…garish.”

“I don’t think the cut helps” Nat said, holding the magazine up “It’s a Brilliant, so looks a bit..”

“Shit?” Katie offered and the girls laughed “Seriously, if I ever have a man who’s ready to propose you better tell him it’s Princess or bust…”

He and Robert chatted for a few moments, Steve assuring him that the budget was healthy, whilst the man headed off into the store and came back with a few options set on a blue velvet tray of sorts. Steve’s eyes were instantly drawn to one in the middle. It was held a large diamond and was set into an elaborate clasp which melted into the band which was studded with smaller diamonds.

“Ahh yes.” Robert smiled as Steve picked it up “That’s one of my favourites. It’s a Tiffany Novo…”

“Sorry, did you say Nova?” Steve’s head jerked up, a smile on his face.

“Novo, Captain.”

Close enough Steve thought as he grinned.

“Princess cut with a Pave set Diamond band in platinum. That one’s a 2.05 carat, but we can do it smaller.”

“No, this one is perfect.” Steve smiled, looking at him.

“Well, that was easy…” Robert quipped and Steve nodded, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” he let out a chortle of a laugh, “you had me at Novo.”

Robert frowned, but didn’t ask for an explanation. “That one there is Sixty-Six thou…”

“Holy shit.” Steve exclaimed, before hastily apologising for his outburst. He knew he had said he had a decent budget but…

“However, Captain, seeing as it’s you, I can shave twenty percent off that, leave my commission.” he man smiled as Steve began to protest “And offer you a further ten percent for Tony being a regular customer.”

“I couldn’t…”

“You guys saved my daughter’s life in New York.” Robert looked at him, smiling softly “She was in the bank.”

Steve took a deep breath and shrugged, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Just doing my job.”

“So am I. So we’ll call it forty, and I’ll throw in an extra eighteen months care package. So she can bring it in to be cleaned, repaired should anything happen to it over the next three years.”

Steve hesitated, it was a lot of money. He knew he had enough, more than enough. His wages from SHIELD had been generous, plus his Army back pay that Katie and Fury had secured for him had been piling up and earning interest, but he still wasn’t used to being able to just flash it around. Plus now he wasn’t technically earning either…but the more he looked at it, the more he just knew it was right.

And she was worth far more to him than anything money could buy.

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, decision made.

He handed Robert his Ma’s ring, which Katie had had resized to fit properly and Robert nodded, smiling as he slid it onto a measuring cone.

“You’re in luck Captain. We have one that size in stock so you can take it away today. Whilst we’re here, would you like me to give this one a polish?”

“Oh, err, yeah, great.”

He shook hands with the man and headed back into the store where Tony was now leaning over a cabinet, talking to a blonde haired assistant. He pointed at a necklace with an obscene price tag, and she nodded, picking it up and turning around.

“Something for Pep.” he said, gesturing to the gift as he nodded at Steve. “You know, just because.” he frowned “That was fast.”

“Found the perfect one.” Steve smiled “It’s called a Novo”

“Nova?” Tony looked at him, eyebrow raising as he smirked.

“No, Novo…although that’s what I heard too at first.” Steve laughed.

“Huh.” Tony said, as Robert approached them. He opened the box he was holding and reached in for the ring, setting it down on a velvet tray again to show to the men. It was even brighter in the store lights than in the room. Steve heard Tony whistle at the side of him.

“That’s a rock and a half Cap.”

“She’s worth it.” he shrugged, simply. “I just hope she likes it.”

“If she doesn’t we can exchange.” Robert said, as he finished his inspection and after making himself happy the ring was perfect he boxed it up and handed it to Steve in a Tiffany bag.

“Cap, you could propose with a ring pull and she’d say it was perfect.” Tony smiled.

“Now you tell me.” Steve said, handing over his credit card.

*******

“Shit, shit, shit…” Katie was panicking. Her ring was gone. Steve’s Ma’s ring. The one he had given to her at Christmas. The only real thing he had of his mom left. She’d ransacked the bedroom, living room, her office. “No,no…”

She made her way back into the kitchen, looking everywhere, before she headed into the bathroom. Nothing. She collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, her head in her hands as she began to cry when she heard the elevator door open.

Steve stopped as he walked into the living room, frowning at the utter chaos that greeted him. Cushions were all over the place, drawers in the large unit were flung open. Immediately he went on the defensive, knowing it was ridiculous as there was no way anyone could have gotten in here, but still…

“Katie?” he called. Katie’s head jerked up and she wiped her eyes

“Bathroom.” she said back, and he could tell from her tone something was wrong.

“Doll, what’s going on?” He strode into the bedroom and then stepped into the large en-suite. She’d been crying. “Baby?” he crouched in front of her.

“I…I’m so sorry…” Her voice cracked. “But your mom’s ring… I can’t…”

Steve felt a sudden pang of guilt, she was distraught, thinking she had lost it. He hadn’t thought of that.

“No, sweetheart, it’s ok, I’ve got it.”

“You do?” she frowned.

“Yeah.” he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled it out. “I was looking at it when you were asleep last night and thought it could do with a bit of a clean-up so I took it off and Tony took me to a place Pepper takes hers…”

Katie looked at the ring, before she felt her anger simmer over.

“You complete ass Steven Grant Rogers!” she yelled, hitting him in the chest “I’ve spent the last 3 hours out of my mind with worry…”

“I know, I should have told you but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Steve lied, hoping to god for once she wouldn’t see through it “I’m so sorry!”

She snatched it off him, returning it to its home and she glared at him, before looking down at it.

“Well, it does look nice and shiny” she said, admiring it and Steve let out a sigh of relief “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Your stuff?” he looked at her as she wiped at her face.

“Yes, my stuff.” she repeated petulantly. “You gave it to me, remember. It’s mine.”

He was about to laugh and call her a brat, when there was a loud clap of thunder and a flashing of bright white light, punctuated by various rainbow colours, outside the bedroom window and they both turned their heads to look at it.

“Thor!” Katie said, jumping up and beaming.

“Am I forgiven?” Steve asked, rising to his feet. She turned and looked at him, rolling her eyes at the injured puppy dog eyes he was giving her.

“Pull another stunt like that again and I’m imposing a sex ban for a week.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he grinned, giving her a peck on the lips.

****

Thor’s arrival spurred the Avengers into getting down to some real planning, and when Clint arrived that day too, bringing with him the news that Natasha would be with them by the middle of June- she was on some kind of trip with Fury-those of them present began to take all the information they had, planning their first raid on one of the uncovered Hydra bases, this one being on the outskirts of Seattle.

“Your call Cap.” Tony looked at Steve, his jaw was twitching as he turned over the pros and cons of hitting the base whilst they were still one down on the team. Eventually he made his decision and looked around the team.

Suit up…” he said, straightening up “Wheels up in 20”

Behind him Banner groaned.

He needn’t have worried though, there was no need for a code green. In fact, it was a bit of a damp squib. There were minimum guards to take out and all in all it was relatively easy. There were also no computers, just a truck load of paper files which they meticulously boxed up and loaded onto the jet.

Over the next two weeks they hit the remaining unknown basis that they had discovered, and every one of them was the same. They were clearly never used as main strongholds, more like storage facilities if anything. Steve was frustrated, Katie knew that. But as she and Tony pointed out to him, they had a hell of a lot of information to comb through. They liaised with Fury, who had nothing new to add, other than that he would be in touch if his team needed help about the remaining bases in Europe.

As such they spent most of their time filtering through the information they had gotten from the bases, along with the boxes of files that Fury and Hill had pulled from SHIELD. Banner and Katie (when she wasn’t working) set up a simple filing system as they went along, cataloguing each bit of paper information so they knew where to find it in future, and could add to it as they went along.

There wasn’t much to go on, they didn’t find any new information, and nothing on Bucky, but there was one name that continued to crop up time and time again.

“Baron Von Strucker…” Katie said to the team which was congregated in the lab. “I’ve gone through the information available, including what was dumped on the internet when we released all the files…it isn’t pretty reading.”

Clint lounged with his feet up on the desk munching some popcorn. He offered it round and Tony took a hand full.

“Not likely to be where Hydra is involved.” he said, leaning against a desk, chucking the popcorn in his mouth.

Steve who had been flicking through a file clucked slightly with his tongue and shook his head “Says here he trained with Jasper Sitwell at the Preparatory Academy.”

Tony began choking and at first Katie thought it was reaction to the fact that Hydra had an academy but she soon realised, as he was pointing at Clint with a disgusted expression on his face that it was the popcorn. She grinned- Clint like his popcorn laced with cayenne pepper.

“What is wrong with butter and salt?” Tony gasped as Clint explained what was on the corn through his laughter. Thor reached over curiously and took a handful before declaring, much to Clint’s annoyance, that he enjoyed the spicy snack.

“He had his fingers in a lot of SHIELD pies” Katie continued “He was running the SHIELD STATION, which is the Scientific Training and Tactical Intelligence Operative Network, an R&D facility which was established to conduct investigations on the material retrieved from the ground during the battle of New York, you know, the shit Fury said he had destroyed?”

“Alright.” Steve nodded “Dig up what you can on it and then we’ll go from there. From the sounds of it he seems like the one we should be focussing on.”

Katie nodded.

“But not tonight.” Tony said, looking at Steve “I think we deserve a break, especially seeing as it’s someone’s 30th tomorrow.”

The room cheered and Katie rolled her eyes “Yeah yeah…don’t remind me.”

*****

Katie woke the next morning to soft kisses peppering the side of her neck and a deep burn growing at her centre as she was slowly pulled to consciousness. She let out a low moan and felt the lips at her throat spread into a sly smile

“You dreaming about me?” her Soldier whispered.

She bit her lip, arching her back and leaned into him as his hand splayed on her stomach, pulling her closer before she felt his fingers sliding down gently to the space between her legs. She didn’t say a word, she couldn’t. It was all she could do to simply groan as he gently pushed two fingers inside her, before he moved to massaging her spot. She pulled her legs together suddenly, thighs tightening as the muscles in her core clenched.

“You want more?” he asked, voice slow and deep.

She nodded eagerly, moving so that she was lay on her back and finally opened her eyes.

Steve gently moved, so his knee was positioned between her legs, sliding his T-shirt over her head before one hands moved up her body, tracing her ribs before he started to caress her breast, the other fingers continued to stroke inside, making her groan more and more. He placed a soft kiss on her jawline and smiled at her.

“Happy birthday, Gorgeous.”

His words undid her, and she let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeal, feeling for him under the sheets “Steve…” Every inch of her was on fire and he wanted him. “Please…” she begged, her voice catching as he moved over on top of her fully, shoving his boxers down and she let out a long shaky moan as he entered her.

“Good?” he asked, his breath a whisper and she nodded eagerly as he began to move. His thrusts were slow but deep and powerful, every roll of his hips sent his pelvis rocking up against her spot.

It didn’t take long at all, she was so close already and Steve watched her face, not wanting to miss the moment.

“Fuck…” Her head completely dropped backwards as her core spasmed again and then she came, hard, her orgasm rolling over her in such a way it had her clinging to Steve, crying out a strangled cry as he too reached his peak, her name tumbling from his lips.

The minutes passed as they lay curled in silence, completely blissed out and relaxed, hearing only each other’s gradually steadying breaths.

Steve’s hand gently stroked the arm that was draped over his abdomen before he gently moved her to one side, sitting up. He had things to do.

“Hey…” she began to protest before he smiled.

“I’m going to make you breakfast”

“You are?”

“Of course, it’s your birthday” He chuckled, from the edge of the bed where he was pulling on a pair of sweats.

"Pancakes,” she muttered hopefully.

He laughed. “Yup,” he said before lowering his lips onto hers. They shared a long, deep kiss that left them grinning like idiots as he pulled away, hopping off the bed and pulling on a t-shirt before leaving the room.

Katie stretched out and glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It was half 9. A perfectly reasonable time to wake up on her birthday. And the best bit was, she had an entire day of being a spoilt birthday brat ahead of her! Steve was taking her to Coney Island in the afternoon, he had been dying to take her back to Brooklyn for ages and they’d picked today to go after the team had decided to take a break from the non-stop research and missions. Then later in the evening there was some form of meal booked, although where she had absolutely no idea. She’d been trying to catch everyone out about it for weeks but failed, miserably.

She was just about to get out of bed and into the shower when she heard her phone vibrating on the nightstand beside her bed. She reached over for it, and rolled her eyes. It was Tony.

“Happy birthday kiddo! How does it feel to be officially old?”

“You still got fourteen years on me, you dick!” she said, grinning before she yawned slightly “Why are you ringing me when you’re, what? A floor away?”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be up or not.”

“Well there’s no worries on that account as for my birthday Steve got me a new alarm clock.”

“An alarm clock?” Tony said, his tone flat

“Yeah.” she said, biting her lip as she fought to keep myself from laughing “His penis.”

There was a pause “That’s gross.” Tony groaned and Katie laughed as he continued to complain “I mean it’s bad enough knowing that you two…you know, without being given some form of mental image like that…”

“Oh quit your whining!” she grinned “When you bringing me my present?”

“Ah well, you’ll have to come get it, it’s a bit big.”

“Big?” I said “It’s not a 16 foot teddy bear is it?”

It was his turn to laugh “No, although, speaking of big, stuffed animals, what did Cap actually get you?”

“You’re hilarious, and I’ve no idea. He’s making me breakfast at the moment.”

“More sausage?” he said sardonically.

“Pancakes, actually” she replied “Which is why I need to go and have a shower before he eats them all himself…”

“Alright, come up when you’re ready…” he said. “Not going anywhere…”

By the time she made her way into the large open plan living area, Steve had already completed 2 stacks of pancakes (his miles bigger than hers), a plate of bacon and was just setting 2 glasses of orange juice down on the breakfast bar in front of the 2 plates. He looked up and smiled, she was dressed casually for a day at the fair, tight jeans, boots and long white top, over which she wore an open beige half-sleeved cardigan, and her hair was pulled up into a high, messy pony tail. She looked beautiful as ever.

“You look lovely.” He said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as she sat down. “So, how does it feel to be old?” He could barely get the words out without laughing, and she simply shook her head at his poor attempt at a joke

“You’re such a jerk!” She rolled her eyes, as he grinned.

They ate breakfast, and then like the big child she was she demanded to know where her presents were so Steve took her hand and led her into the living room where they were laid out on the coffee table.

She opened her gifts one by one, a few items of clothing, a pair of earrings, a new set of wireless earphones that she had mused over buying and then decided not to, a gorgeous white and rose gold diamond bracelet and a leather bound edition of the Wizard of Oz book to replace the one she had lost in Malibu.

“I saw that and couldn’t resist.” He grinned, as she grinned back “oh and here…”

This was the big one. He held out the envelope and Katie looked at him, gently taking it before she slid a finger under the top to rip it open. Steve watched as she pulled out the piece of paper and for the second time that morning her mouth dropped open in surprise. It was a print out of an itinerary leaving the 30th November and returning on the 14th December, with the locations being cities in Europe- Munich, Paris, Venice, Bruges, Dublin and London.

“2 nights in each…3 in London” Steve said as she glanced up at him, unable to speak “I didn’t know what else to do and I know you’ve wanted to go back to Europe for ages, and how much you love Christmas and the markets and stuff…”

“Oh my god, Steve… ” She glanced down at the paper, finally finding her voice. “This is amazing! I don’t know what to say.” Steve felt the familiar pink tinge growing around his cheeks before she threw her arms around him, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smiled and then kissed her head before he pulled away. “Shall we go and see what outrageously flashy present Tony has for you?”

“Do you know what is is?” she asked.

“I might do…” he smiled as she stood up. There was no might about it. He knew what it was. And he knew she was going to lose her shit about it.

The two of them made their way up to Tony’s main living floor, her hand in his.

“You now I’m excited to finally take you to Coney Island.” He smiled as the door to the elevator shut.

“Excited?”

"Yeah, it’s just I watched Bucky take so many dates around there and I spent most of my time wondering when I was gonna’ get to take my own gal.” He admitted, bashfully.

"God, you’re adorable,” she smiled at him as the doors opened.

“Happy birthday!” Both Tony and Pepper chimed and she grinned, stepping out and into Pepper’s arms before Tony swept her into a hug.

“Well I don’t see any huge stuffed toys so…” she looked around and Pepper snorted.

“I talked him out of it.”

Tony handed her a small box and Katie looked at him.

“This isn’t big.”

“Brat.” Tony rolled his eyes and she smirked. She pulled the ribbon of the box, took the lid off and stared at the content inside. And as it dawned on her what it was she looked up at him, then to Steve, who was watching her, an amused expression on her face, then back at the box her eyes wide.

“You didn’t?” she looked up at her brother, her mouth dropping open.

Tony shrugged “Well you buried your Range Rover and gave away the Audi so…”

She looked at him for a split second before she squealed, threw herself at her brother and then turned on her heels, running.

Steve and Tony both watched her go before they turned to one another and followed her.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Steve nodded.

“Huh.” Tony nodded.

“Ready for what?” Pepper asked.

“Oh, they’re going to Coney Island.” Tony said as they headed down in the elevator, waving away her question.

Way ahead of them Katie burst into the parking lot and skidded to a halt. There, in all its glory was her own brand new Chevrolet Camero Exorcist, the car she had dreamed of since she was a teenager. It was gorgeous. Deep blue with cream leather interior. She unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, taking in the smell. The head rests were stitched with the Stark Industries logo and the dash was awash with every single button and function you could imagine.

“Fire it up.” a voice said, and Tony looked at her through the open driver’s side door. She did as she was told and grinned at the beautiful growling noise it made and squealed, feeling the leather of the steering wheel.

She turned to Steve who was stood leaning slightly on the door watching her.

“Hop in soldier!” she grinned, and he smirked, walking to the passenger side.

“Have fun…” Tony said, before he turned to Steve and looked at him, giving him a significant nod and a clap on the shoulder. Steve smiled back and then sank into the leather seat. He had to admit the car was nice. Katie pulled out of the space and gave a groan that was far too arousing than it should have been.

“Oh my god…” she murmured, as she pulled onto the street. The car purred and handled like a dream. As she put her foot down it sped forward, throwing them both back in the seat.

“Easy baby!” Steve chuckled as she laughed, speeding over Brooklyn Bridge. “You’re gonna get a ticket…”

She shrugged, not actually caring at that point.

*****

Steve wound up, pitching the ball which sliced through the bottles on the stall diagonally, knocking them completely off their pedestal and sending the ball through the back of the canvas booth as it ripped a hole clean through it. Steve bit his lip, not realising how hard he had thrown it and turned to look at Katie. She was doubled over, laughing at the look on his face, and then laughed even harder at the expression on the attendants face as he glanced from Steve to the bottles on the floor, to the hole in the canvas and back again.

“Which one do you want?” Steve asked, placing his arm around her as the attendant indicated for her to pick a toy.

“I think I’ll have that one…” she said, pointing to a brown bear that was dressed in a Captain America outfit, complete with helmet and shield.

Steve shot her a look and she held out her hands, protesting her innocence. “What?”

“Good choice ma’am” the attendant said, handing over the bear “He’s an all American hero is our Captain.”

“That he is.” She grinned “He’s incredibly handsome too I believe.”

Steve cut her off as he thanked the man before steering her away as he checked his watch. They had about an hour before they needed to get back.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.”

He led them both down to the sea front, pausing to get a hot dog each, and they walked, eating in comfortable silence. The sun was still warm in the sky, the sea was by their side and Katie was lost in her own little world until she realised Steve wasn’t besides her. She turned to look for him, wondering where he was and then spotted him a few yards behind her, crouched on one knee on the well-worn wooden slats of the boardwalk.

“I told you I was gonna ask you properly one day.” He cleared his throat, looking up at her with those blue eyes she loved so much as he held out his hand, opening the small box that was inside. The sun bounced off the surface of the ring and she couldn’t see it fully but she clamped her hands over her mouth. “I know we were a little too late to be each other’s firsts, well in some ways anyway…” he said, and Katie let out a choked giggle. “But I want all my lasts to be with you. Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

“And I told you I’d say yes one day!” She said, her voice cracking with emotion as she removed her hands shakily from her mouth and nodded. “Yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you.”

A few of the by-standers who had been watching started cheering as Steve jumped up, everything around him bar his girl faded to nothing as she threw herself into his arms. He picked her up, laughing like an idiot, his strong arms round her as he twirled her round, the pair of them sharing fast, rapid dizzying pecks on the lips as he held her off the floor. Eventually he set her on her feet, an utterly stupid grin plastered on his face as he looked at her, a grin that wasn’t going to fade any time soon.

“Do I errr have to put it on myself?” She spluttered a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“What, oh, yeah, right…” he said, stepping back and removing the ring from its home, fumbling slightly before he managed to get it out, holding it in his right hand, but before he could do anything else she grabbed his left hand which contained the box before he could slip it back into his pocket.

“You bought me a Tiffany?” She almost shrieked as she looked at the distinctive blue-green box in her hand.

“Yeah, and if you give me a second you can see it.” Steve chuckled at her. Biting her lip she held out her left hand and he slid the ring onto her finger and she let out a loud gasp.

“Stevie, it’s beautiful.” She whispered, looking at it before she took his face in both her hands. “I love it.”

“I love you.” he murmured into their kiss. He grinned and dropped and arm round her shoulder as they made their way back down the boardwalk, back to the car, Katie’s eyes almost permanently transfixed on her ring.

“You definitely like it?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling nervous as he nodded to her hand

“It’s perfect, but how did you know?” she looked up at him as they reached the other side of the road

“Do the words, ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’ ring any bells?” he looked at her, referencing their conversation outside his flat a few months ago.

“Not about the tiffany.” she shook her head “But the cut. It’s a princess one, the one I’ve always wanted.

“I have a good memory” he smiled, “And I picked that particular one because its a design called a Novo. I thought he said Nova at first.”

Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck. “For the record, this was much a much better proposal than we can get married if you want….”

“Are you ever gonna let me forget that?” he sighed as he leaned down.

“I think you’ve redeemed yourself…” she said as her lips met his.

****

“Tony suggested we have a drink before we meet everyone.” Steve stepped into the elevator and Katie looked at him before she smoothed down her white dress.

“So where are we meeting everyone?”

“It’s a surprise, stop being so impatient.”

“Errr. You can’t tell me off, it’s my birthday.”

“Well stop asking so many questions and just enjoy your night!”

She didn’t get chance to reply as then the elevator doors opened onto the main party floor and there was a loud eruption of noise, making Katie jump.

“SURPRISE!”

Her mouth dropped open as she looked around the room. It was decorated in banners, balloons, and now paper streamers from the party poppers that had just been exploded by their friends. Clint, Thor, Bruce, Rhodey, Sam, Maria Hill, Tony, Pepper, Lawson, Evans, a whole host of people that worked in the offices and a familiar copper haired assassin stepped forward to greet her.

“Miss me?” Nat quipped.

“I can’t…” Katie began to speak, as she hugged her friend back “Oh my God…”

“JARVIS can you record this?” she heard Tony speak. “For this is a monumental occasion. She’s actually speechless…”

Katie turned to look at Steve who had been watching her reaction with a smile on his face. He loved seeing her happy, and he was pretty sure he’d managed to achieve that several times over during the day.

“Did you organise this?” she asked

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he chuckled, stepping forward to kiss her cheek “I had a little help but yeah, it was my idea. Happy Birthday baby.”

Before she could reply Natasha suddenly spoke very loudly.

“What is that?”

“What?” Katie asked, although she knew full well what Natasha was talking about.

“Errrr that?” She grabbed at Katie’s left hand.

The room fell silent.

“What does it look like?” Katie grinned at her

“Holy fucking shit.” Steve heard Clint chuckle as he slid his arm round his fiancées waist and the two of them exchanged a smile.

“We’re getting married” Steve grinned, finally tearing his eyes from Katie to look round the room. There was a pause and he locked eyes with Tony who winked at him before there was a flurry of noise and activity as everyone surged forward to congratulate them.

Tony reached them first and the two men shared a manly hug, which included lots of back slapping before he dropped a kiss to his sister’s cheek as Katie felt a hand grab hers. Natasha scrutinised her newest piece of jewellery before she looked up at Steve.

“You picked that all by yourself?” she looked up at Steve.

“I’m not completely useless” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m impressed Rogers,”

Sam clapped Steve on his back and as the two men began to banter, Tony pulled his sister into his side.

“Congratulations Kiddo.” He said, looking down at her hand “Looks even better on.”

“You’ve seen it?” She frowned.

“I may or may not have taken him to Tiffany’s…” Tony shrugged. “But I promise he picked it all by himself”

“So you knew he was gonna ask me?”

“He asked my permission.” Tony sniffed. “Well I might not be Dad but…”

Katie noticed his eyes were shining and she smiled at him as he continued.

“I want you to know,” Tony’s voice cracked slightly “I couldn’t be prouder of you, or love you more if you were my own.”

“Stop it, you’re making me cry!” Katie exclaimed, the tears in her own eyes gently spilling out as he pulled her into huge hug and she pressed her face into his chest. Eventually she stepped back, the pair of them wiping their eyes and Tony took the opportunity of a distraction, turning to a waiter.

Steve, who had been watching the two siblings saw the emotional exchanged and he stepped forward, as Tony was yelling about champagne for a toast.

“You alright?” Steve asked, gently wiping a tear off her cheek before he slipped his arms around her waist.

“Never been happier.” she beamed, honestly, her hands winding round his neck “ I know I said last year was the best birthday ever but this has smacked it straight out of the park.”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her “I love you.”

“God job, seeing as I’m gonna be your wife.” she teased, her hand tangling in the back of his hair.

“Yeah…” he said, the shit eating grin spreading across his face again as he contemplated the words. His wife. “Yeah, you are”

Chapter 19

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

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Walk Me Home - Ch 7

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3667

Author’s Note: All my love to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67, and @cracksinthewalls for so much of all the things. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 7

“A goddamned hex bag, Sam. I didn’t even see whoever it was. I was going to the bathroom, they tapped my shoulder and shoved it in my hand as I turned around. I was...it was…”

Kimber trails off, not ready to share what she saw while under the influence. She rubs circles on her temples, calming the dull throb that’s persisted ever since she woke up. Sam waits patiently for her to finish, giving her time to gather her thoughts.The motel room smells faintly of fries and coffee, and the shower hisses in the background as Kimber does her best to fill Sam in on her near-catastrophe.

She and Dean had come straight back to the room after finding their way off the roof. Kimber headed right for the bathroom, cranking the shower up as hot as it would go to try and scrub some of the experience off, and Dean took the opportunity to check in with his brother.

When Kimber emerged, feeling only slightly less violated but a little steadier on her feet, Dean ended his call with Sam with a stipulation that Sam let him know the second he found out anything at all helpful. Dean and Kimber had exchanged quick glances then before looking longingly at the bed.

“Nap?” Kimber asked hopefully. Dean didn’t bother answering verbally. He shucked his boots, flopped on the bed, and opened his arms in invitation. She joined him, and the two of them slept for nearly four hours until Sam knocked on the door with food and a disappointingly short report on his own morning’s work.

Now Kimber is doing her best to bring him up to speed on their side, but for some reason, she keeps stopping short of telling him what her hallucination consisted of. She trusts Sam as she trusts his brother, but this is something she needs to talk to Dean about first. Preferably alone.

“I had very little control and was completely unaware of my actual surroundings. These are the most realistic hallucinations I’ve heard of from a hex bag. I’d say nearly on level with a djinn. This guy is good, Sam. And we’re not any closer.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sam counters, drumming his fingers on the table top. He leans forward, resting his forearm on the smooth surface. “We know Helen definitely didn’t fall. We know there weren’t any hex bags left at the scenes, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t any involved.”

He pauses to take a swig of water from his bottle, deliberating.

“We know he’s sneaky, know he can blend into a crowd without standing out. He may very well have been at some of your defense classes before but made an effort to not be noticed. We need to talk to your instructor, maybe some of the people in your class, see if anyone knows anything about him at all.”

“The class is in the campus rec center. I know the instructor’s name, but not her contact info. Class is tomorrow night, but we may be able to find her at the rec center before then.”

“Not ‘we.’ You’re staying here,” Dean says as he exits the bathroom. “After this morning, you’re staying right here until we end this son of a bitch.”

Kimber’s temper flares at his commanding tone, and she bites back an acidic retort. She trusted Dean’s instincts all those years ago, and they most likely saved her life. Even in her hallucinogenic haze, she heard him and tried to listen. And she trusts him now, too.

But she’s tired and beyond stressed, and while she knows the day hasn’t treated Dean any better, he doesn’t have to be a dick.

“We’re not seventeen anymore, Dean. I’m not a naive little girl who needs to be bundled out of the way, and I sure as hell don’t take orders from you. Don’t think for one second that I’m staying out of this investigation. This is my life, and I’m in charge of it. Not you.”

Dean’s face darkens, the tendons in his neck flexing alarmingly as he opens his mouth to retort, but Sam cuts in before Dean gets a chance.

“Kimber,” Sam offers, ignoring when Dean’s glare shifts in his direction, “You know Dean is just worried about you. What if I go to the rec center, ask around. You could call ahead, explain why I’m coming, and then your instructor might be more willing to talk to me. Whoever the witch is, they’re probably expecting you to go to class at some point. It really would be safer if you stayed here.”

She grudgingly concedes that Sam’s plan is solid, a lot safer than her gallivanting around campus as if a psychopathic witch isn’t trying to kill her. She forces her brain to accept reason, expelling as much of her ire as she can with her next couple of breaths.

Sam stands, pushing back his chair and beginning to bag up the trash from their late lunch. Dean reaches for his jacket, but Sam puts out a hand, holding Dean’s eyes and shaking his head. Kimber doesn’t miss the muscle jumping just above Dean’s jaw or the way his expression softens fractionally when Sam’s eyes flick her way.

“Dean, maybe you should stay here, just in case. The witch probably doesn’t know where Kimber is, but we really can’t take that chance. She’ll be safer with you.”

Subtle, Sam, she thinks, sighing internally. Real subtle.

To her surprise, however, Dean doesn’t argue. He grips the back of the cheap chair so hard that it squeaks in protest. His head dips down for a long pause, jaw and fingers flexing. When he resurfaces, his anger isn’t gone, but he is visibly more in control.

“You go, Sam. Kimber and I will regroup, see if she can remember anything else. I think we’re both pretty wiped from this morning, even after passing out. Is that okay?”

Though the question is directed at Sam, his eyes move to Kimber, including her. She nods as Sam finishes gathering their take-out containers, offering Dean a conciliatory smile. The relief on Dean’s face dissolves what’s left of her irritation.

The sky outside is nearly dark when Sam leaves. Dean and Kimber sit on the two beds, facing each other in silence. They study each other for a long time, staring unashamedly as they search out reminders of the kids they once were, relics of the past that are now mixed with the scars their separate lives have carved with time and experience.

She can feel his gaze on her, heavy at first, and then as searching and tender as a lover’s caress. She wonders if he likes what he sees as much as he did twenty-four years ago. She hasn’t changed much, in her opinion, but, then, she’s not exactly an objective observer. Some lines, a little sag, some silver (which she actually likes). But all the main features are still there.

Kimber is the first to move. She slides to the side, tilting her head to indicate the empty spot next to her. Dean frowns, seemingly determined to keep his distance, and she shoots him a look of such utter exasperation that he actually cracks a smile for a second before he’s able to stop himself.

“Fine,” he growls. He shoves up from his own bed, dropping down next to her with enough force to tip her off balance and send her tumbling into his side, where he is ready to catch her, as always.

A shudder runs through her at that realization.

“You...you got me,” she whispers. In her mind, she’s at the edge of the rooftop again, her heels on solid ground, nothing at all beneath her toes. “You…”

“Me,” he says, his tone heavy, weighed down with everything he isn’t saying aloud. “I got you.”

Flashes of terror, disorientation, fury boil through her so fast they steal her breath and her balance, and she grasps at the lifeline his shirt presents. Her fingers clench into the soft material. Her gut burns with bitter shame, and she’s blinded by a sudden onrush of hot, angry tears.

Violated. That’s it. She feels violated, absolutely powerless against this unknown assailant. All these years of preparing herself, staying vigilant and alert, and yet it all came to absolutely nothing, in the end.

She shoves the heels of her hands against her eyes. How dare someone intrude upon her well-ordered life, bringing nothing but terror and violence? The tears flow faster, harder, the rage burning down to a fine point, honed and hard.

“I may be his target, for whatever messed up reason,” she hisses, “but I will not be his fucking victim.”

“Damn straight,” Dean agrees, his arm tightening around her back. He doesn’t offer any useless platitudes or promises he might not be able to keep. He simply agrees with every curse she spews out, holds her tighter when the scalding tears soak into his shirt, and unapologetically augments her wild declarations of revenge with his own suggestions of violence.

Kimber knows they (probably) won’t act on any of it beyond what’s necessary, but it’s nice to share in a violent verbal tirade with someone who gets what she’s going through.

“Thanks,” she finally says as she straightens up, having finally blown through her considerable cache of vitriol. He chuckles, looking down at his hands and rubbing them slowly together.

“I’ll plot revenge with you anytime, sweetheart. Gotta keep on your good side; I’d be an idiot to piss you off after finding out you’re capable of all that. That was, uh...creative.”

She bumps her shoulder against his, still feeling very raw and open but a lot more settled.

“Kimber,” he starts, deliberately avoiding her gaze. “What...what did you see? I get it if you can’t talk about it, but you were so zoned out when I chased you down. You were saying my name, but I got the feeling it wasn’t me me you were talkin’ to.”

When she falters, Dean puts his hand on his knee, palm up in a silent offer of support. When she takes his hand, the strength and warmth of his grip soaks into her, and she bolsters herself.

Her brain shivers with revulsion, balking at the prospect of digging back through the earlier episode. She’s scared, so scared to go back to that place, even verbally, but she perseveres, pushing herself to get the words out.

Because even if she can’t pull herself out this time, she’s going in knowing Dean is there, anchoring her to reality.

“I got you.”

I know, she thinks. Instead of affirming aloud, she simply starts talking.

“It started off like that one walk we went on, the trail with all the falling leaves.”

“I remember that day,” Dean says, studying their entwined fingers. “Your mom made that pumpkin pie for dessert. That was a good...that was one of the best days.”

“I think that’s why my mind went there. There’s no way to know for sure what spell he used on the hex bag, but it took me to that afternoon, sort of. You were ahead of me, and I kept trying to catch up, but I couldn’t. And the leaves kept falling in my face; there were so many more than the actual day, and I kept having to knock them away just to be able to see. It was hard to walk, to think.”

Dean squeezes gently, waiting for her to continue. She licks her dry lips, her face pinching in, but she pushes on, knowing she has to draw out the poison.

“I could hear you calling from behind us. I know that now, but I didn’t then. You, the real you, would break through every now and then. But I couldn’t stop following him. He led me to a house, a just-married couple. It was you and me, not us from then or from now, even. We were maybe in our early twenties? The house was a lot like my parents’. The pair of them, us, were so happy, so...together. And he said...the teenage you said…”

“What did I say?” Dean prompts, his voice soft and measured.

“You told me it was your dream, that we could still have it, if I wanted. And I knew it wasn’t real, there were too many little parts that were wrong, that reminded me it wasn’t true. I knew we’d lost our chance all those years ago, but Dean...I wanted it. I wanted you, I wanted that life, and it seemed so easy to just give in. Take his hand, take that step, get our happily ever after. I wanted-”

She breaks off, the thought too big and too deep for her to vocalize. The past twenty-four hours catches up with her all at once: the anxiety and stress of her supernatural stalker, Dean’s unexpected arrival and the return of all her residual feelings for him, the shock of realizing she’d been wrong all this time about him forgetting her, the terror of finding herself literally on the edge…

She still cares for Dean, the feelings deep and aching, no matter how hard she shoved them into a metaphorical box and locked them away. She still has no idea why he never got in contact again, but at this particular moment in time, she no longer cares.

I wanted to give you your dream after all, she thinks, and in the end I couldn’t even do that.

“Kimber, look at me.” His words grind out, ragged and thick. He turns towards her, his free hand moving to hold her face so she has no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry. You saved your life. Yeah, I caught you,” he says, his eyebrows lowering warningly as she starts to interrupt. “Yeah, I got the hex bag out of your hand, but you knew what you were seeing was wrong. You felt it, you knew that wasn’t me, and you pulled yourself out. You fell away from the edge of the roof, not towards it. You did that. I just caught you, that’s all.”

He holds her gaze, and they sit frozen, mere inches between them. His eyes are ablaze, relentless in their determination to burn Kimber down to her base elements. She is speechless, without air or thought to offer another single word.

But he waits, adamant, letting her make whatever final decision she feels is right, or at the very least, right for now. It seems he’s always waited for her to decide, and she owes it to both of them to end their shared misery.

She drops her gaze, loosening her hand from his. Her eyes rise with her fingers, and she places the barest tips against his jaw, wordlessly asking permission. In response, Dean lowers his arms, his hands moving to brush her hips as he presses into her touch. His eyes close, his face awash with elation almost to the point of pain.

She traces the fine lines surrounding the corners of his eyes, just as she wanted to do this morning. Her fingertips smooth the creases between his eyes, gliding over his furrowed eyebrows until he finally relents and lifts them. She presses the heel of one hand over the worry lines ingrained in his forehead before running her thumbs under the silky, delicate skin beneath his eyes, stained dark and bruised from years of sleepless nights.

She finally allows herself the indulgence of mapping first his lower lip, then the upper, the pads of her fingers tingling. But the feel of him, the soft warmth, the scratchy stubble, the silk plush of his mouth, is too much and not enough for her overwhelmed senses. She needs more, needs him closer.

His breath catches, fingers contracting, when she pulls his head down to place a kiss on first one temple, then the other. Another press of her lips just above the bridge of his nose, then one for each of his eyelids. A kiss for the tip of his nose, for each cheekbone, then each corner of his mouth.

“Please.” She feels the movement of his lips, his plea so soft as to be inaudible. His hands are tense on her waist, just shy of painful.

The knowledge that he wants her as much now as he did so long ago, even just the knowledge that he wants her, is heady and powerful. Lightheaded, giddy, she brushes feathering, teasing kisses across his lower lip, his upper lip, before claiming his entire mouth.

His reaction is so quick she doesn’t even realize she’s in his lap until he’s shoving back to get more purchase on the bed. His hands slide down from her waist, pulling her back with him. She shifts until her legs are on either side of his hips, settling more firmly as she deepens the kiss.

Dean tugs, pulling her shirt loose from her waistband, and skates calloused palms over her flushed skin. She arches reflexively, and his lips trail down her chin, ghosting over her throat. She returns to him as fast as her position allows, desperate to touch, to taste, to drink him in. Four seconds away from Dean’s mouth is too long, nevermind twenty-four years.

She is raw and aching from the weeks of worry and frustration, off-balance from her close brush with the void, and every movement sends her senses reeling. His strong, denim-clad thighs scrubbing through the thin fabric of her slacks. His day-old stubble abrading the taut column of her throat. The silk of his lips caressing her own, the sinful slide of his tongue.

She loses track of who removes whose clothing, but they are bare and joined in what feels like a heartbeat. Dean pulls her back into his lap, her hips firmly in his grip, and she stills against the intensity of his gaze. He throbs, hard and hot against her belly, and a tremor of need shivers down her spine.

He holds her eyes, one hand dragging down from her waist with torturous languor. Her flesh burns in the wake of his touch, muscles trembling in reaction. A breath jerks simultaneously from both of them when his fingers find their goal, and she nearly comes apart on him right there.

“Does this work for you?” he asks. His breathing is shallow, almost panting with the effort of restraint, and his eyes have taken on a glassy quality, but still he asks. And waits.

“Always.”

His eyes close at the first touch of her tight, wet heat, his lips parted as his eyebrows draw down, and she can’t decide if she prefers the feel of his fingers on her or the sight of him more. Then he moves his hand, curling his fingers inward, and she makes up her mind real damn quick.

“Please.” The whisper comes from one of them, but neither knows nor cares who. Dean’s fingers plunge, retreat, repeat until she’s riding his hand, oblivious to the obscene sounds coming from her mouth as well as where they’re joined.

Her hands drag up from where she’s been digging into his shoulders, anchoring firmly into his hair. She pulls his face back to hers, seeking his kiss even as his fingers press again and again. His tongue sweeps into her mouth, matching the curling rhythm of his fingers, and she’s so close she can almost taste her completion.

She’s so close, she just needs…

“Dean, please, I need-”

His free hand slides up her back to grip her shoulder from behind, and his cheek brushes against hers. His lips ghost over her earlobe, his breath hot against her neck.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he growls, and that’s all she needs to hear. She buries her face in his neck, her breath coming in fits and stops as he murmurs broken bits of praise. Her hands slip from his face, arms draping around his neck as her limbs go loose and weak. She loses track of time, riding the last diminishing shocks his fingers stroke from her.

“Kimber, I...god, that was...I need you, are you ready?”

“I’ve never been ready for you,” she breathes as she rises up on trembling knees, “but I am so damned tired of waiting.”

Dean’s eyes seem to cross for a moment, and he grips her like he’s afraid she’ll float away. A low, guttural sound works its way from his chest, the tendons in his neck stranding out tight and thick against his flushed skin.

“Waited...so long…”

She leans in, her forehead sliding against his, and they move blindly, bound together and barreling towards completion with reckless abandon. His nails scrape against her shoulder blades, his teeth rasping down the crook of her neck. The sound he makes when she tangles her fingers into his hair, grips and pulls, makes something vital clench deep inside of her, and she moans his name shamelessly with every erratic roll of her hips.

Dean stiffens in her arms suddenly, cursing, his teeth bared. She rides him still, and he guides her hips with rough encouragement, their staccato breaths echoing through the still room. He claims her mouth just as she comes, and her cry is muffled against his desperate kiss.

She knows effort is involved in getting them into an actual horizontal position and under the blanket, but to Kimber it feels like she simply melts into bed with Dean. Just as the night before, she molds perfectly against his side, her head rising and falling with each of Dean’s breaths. He strokes her cheek with one hand, his other arm solid and strong around her back.

They drowse, fingers wandering aimlessly under the covers, occasionally stretching up or leaning down to meet for a kiss. Kimber drifts with Dean, sated and content to her soul.

Just before she slips under completely, she hears him mutter, “Can’t believe we waited a quarter of a damned century to do that. Fuck was I thinkin’.”

Sleep claims Kimber with a smile on her lips.

…

Chapter 8

#apparently I forgot to do tags the first time around #woops #um #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #teen dean #teen winchesters #original character #original female character #let's face it #if you got here through tags it's a miracle anyway #fuck it #i'm ready for bed #g'night

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gemlinz · 3 years

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Fulcrum ch. 3 - Baby Steps (Levi x f!Reader)

Summary: It was a cruel world, she knew. She also knew better than to ask for more than her lot: being a full time barmaid and a part time thief. She helped where she could, bitterly accepted where she could not. Feared the monsters lurking outside the walls. But still - being near him, taking in his strength, his resolve - she couldn't help but hope for more. For herself. For him. For humanity.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence | CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 |

Read on A03

As soon as the door shut on the last customer, F/N locked it. She threw her head back onto the wooden frame hard with a groan, eyes falling shut. This was the first time tonight she had to stand still.

“Rough night?” Levi asked from behind his mug. He was sitting in his normal corner, eyeing her exhausted form.

She only grunted in response.

Rough night was an understatement - it was Saturday, and while that always meant a night long rush, the merchants were also throwing a festival. Even when it was standing room only, customers forced themselves into the pub to demand whatever their drink of choice was, throwing money at her before making their way back out into the busy street. On top of that, Louis was still out, so she was entirely alone to deal with it.

The barmaid hadn’t had a second to breathe, let alone dedicate attention to her partner in crime, as it were. Their close encounter with the Military Police had been just over a week ago, though she had seen him a few days prior when he delivered her new assignment.

Levi watched her for a beat longer before saying, “You’re not going to leave this shithole looking like this, are you?”

She cracked one E/C eye open at him before directing her gaze to the rest of the bar. She bit back a curse when she took it in.

As busy as she was, she hadn’t noticed the state it was in. Glasses and alcohol littered the floor, some of it coagulated and starting to become sticky. She counted two tables turned over, and a broken chair leg - it was unclear where the rest of the chair was.

Even the walls had a layer of gunk on them. F/N felt like she was about to cry.

He scoffed when she cast pleading eyes at him.

“Not a chance, brat.” He shot her down, setting his cup down. His table and the area around it remained miraculously spotless, as if his aura just emanated cleanliness.

More likely, she guessed, his aura promised deadly retribution should anyone come too close.

“Please, Levi?” She begged, pushing off the wall to come sit in front of him. “This is totally your thing!” When he looked only nonplussed, she continued “There's no way I’ll get it all done before I pass out….just think of all the spots I’ll miss…”

He rolled his eyes, “Sounds like a you problem - why would I give a shit about what your pub looks like?”

She sighed heavily, giving up on him. The woman buried her head in her arms on the table, groaning.

“Fine, whatever.” She mumbled through her arms, “I’ll do it myself...just need to rest my eyes for a minute. Feel free to see yourself out.”

He shook his head in disgust, kicking the leg of her chair.

“Oi, we’re not done yet - I still need your report.”

“I didn’t have time to write it with Louis being out,” She whined.

“And where the fuck might Louis be? Kinda shitty to leave your dumbass stuck with this crowd alone.”

F/N glanced up just enough to glare at him, “It’s not his fault, I had to fight him to stay home. He’s in no state to be working.”

“What do you mean “in no state”?” He demanded. She looked away.

“It doesn’t matter. Just - don't think lowly of him, ok? He’d be here if he could.”

Levi grunted, shooting the last of his tea before noisily placing the mug back on the saucer. Of course the idiot would defend the man who had sold her out less than a year ago. He studied her for a minute before continuing.

“Fine. I’ll help you.” When her head shot up in surprised glee, he continued, “If you tell me what happened to your face.”

F/N's brows drew together in confusion, but the action pulled on the cut above her cheek and she was quickly reminded. Her hand flew up to the swollen side of her face, flushing. With the busyness of her night, she had totally forgotten.

It looked worse than it was - her cheekbone and right eye were slightly swollen, a shallow scabbed over cut just above the apple of her cheek. The bruising didn’t look as bad as it had a couple days ago thankfully, but still showed as a faded ugly green.

Levi had spotted it the second he walked in, and he had been itching for answers ever since. His irritation only grew when she was too busy to even spare him a greeting, throwing his typical order down in front of him with an apologetic frown before moving onto her next customer.

When she looked like she wouldn’t answer, he prompted, “Is that from the other night? When I-” He looked away, “When we had to shake the MPs?”

“No.” She said, surprised he even cared, "Though you could have been nicer about it.”

He rolled his eyes at her petulant tone.

“I’ll remember that next time we’re about to be caught, interrogated and then executed.”

When the woman wasn’t forthcoming with any more information, he leaned over the table to better inspect her injury.

F/N moved away when he got closer in alarm, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her chin, angling her face for a better view.

“Did someone hit you?” He demanded, gently prodding at her cheekbone. She hissed.

“Not on purpose. I don't think.” She yanked out of his grasp, pushing her chair back so as to be out of range.

“You don’t think.” He deadpanned. “No it was - well, he was aiming for Louis, probably.” When he still didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, she continued giving in. “It was some drunk, ok? He had had too much, and Louis cut him off which only pissed him off. He got belligerent, and we had to kick him out. Louis took the brunt of it, but I got hit trying to tear the guy off of him.”

A beat while he processed

“So what I’m getting here,” Levi drawled, drawing it out like she was a child, “Is that you let some drunk asshole sucker punch you?”

She felt her face heat in indignation. Why was he saying it like it was her fault? "I didn't let him do anything."

He scoffed.

“Tell me you at least broke the fuckers arm.” He said, frustrated.

“What?” She asked, alarmed, “No, of course not - other customers stepped in after that and dragged him out. He was twice the size of me.”

That gave him pause.

“So? Why should that matter? I kick the shit out of people twice my size all the time.”

“Yeah, but you’re you.” She argued, and he felt warning bells begin to go off, “And I can’t do stuff like that.”

He stared at her for a minute, trying to see through a lie. When he didn’t find one, he felt anger start to bubble up, mixed with alarm.

“Can’t do stuff like what?” He asked, voice low.

She shifted uncomfortably, able to sense his mood change but not sure what had caused it. She chose her next words carefully.

“Fighting stuff.” When his gaze only got darker, she rushed to clarify, thinking that her lack of explanation was the problem, “I never needed to so I never learned, and I don’t think I’d even know how to start. I mean, you had to have known this, you had me pinned in seco-” She stopped abruptly when he held up one hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. There was a moment of silence as he processed what she was saying.

“Are you telling me,” He began threateningly, his tone setting her on edge, “That we’ve been sending you, for months, into enemy territory... and you can’t even defend yourself?”

F/N would have been insulted if she wasn’t so terrified.

“I-” her voice cracked a bit, so she cleared her throat, “I mean...yes?”

His hand slammed down on the table and she jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He growled at her, though she didn’t think the question was necessarily directed at her.

“Look - it's not like I’ll ever need to know.” She defended, adrenaline pumping and pride a little bruised, “No ones ever been able to catch me.”

He looked at her like she was stupid.

“I caught you, you idiot.” His voice was exasperated. Then, more to himself, “How the hell did I not realize...you went down so easy, I just thought I surprised you.”

“You only caught me because you cheated.” She bristled, sitting up straighter. “If not for Louis, the last you’d have seen of me was on that rooftop.”

“And you think our enemies will play by your rules?” He countered, directing his fury back towards her.

“Well - no, but-”

“So what happens next time you're cornered, huh? Next time someone sells your dumbass out and you get hit when your guard’s down?”

“It won’t happen, Levi, you’re not listening to me-”

“Shut the fuck up before I shut you up.” He leaned forward menacingly, and she immediately shrunk back. At her fearful compliance, he sat back. In a calmer but no less cold tone, “You should know how to at least defend yourself. It’s a fucking miracle you’ve made it this far.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, staring at her hands as she picked at her nails.

“It’s a moot point, anyway,” She started quietly, “I don’t have anyone to teach me.”

At his silence, icy fear clawed up her spine.

“You’re um-” She began, voice shaking, “You’re not going to tell Erwin, right?”

Tiredly, Levi sized her up. Despite this new development, she was honestly the best thief he had met. Given his history that wasn’t an easy feat - her ability to slip in and out of otherwise off access sites undetected was beyond even his own talents, and had been hugely beneficial to the Corps. But if he told Erwin that she was practically defenseless when they sent her to these places, that if she was ever caught she wouldn’t stand a chance against capture....

A captured spy was a liability, and not one the Survey Corp could afford.

The Commander would cut her out. And then, to tie up loose ends, he’d arrest her - maybe have his strongest soldier eliminate her so she couldn’t talk.

Levi could tell from the stiff way she held herself she realized what was at stake with her question.

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the table with one hand and leaning his head against the other.

“You’re not giving me much choice,” He started, letting her hang for a beat when her eyes shot up to meet his in panic, “I’ll have to teach you.”

The thief’s fear melted into confusion and then into shock. His lips quirked as he saw the emotions play out on her face.

“Wait, really?”

He gave her a blank look, bored. “Just enough to keep you alive.”

She nodded, “Ok, yeah. Ok.” Her brain was still catching up, “Like...right now?”

He shook his head, exasperated.

“No, dumbass. You’re dead on your feet and this pub’s still filthy. I’ll meet you here tomorrow night, after close. ”

F/N groaned as she remembered the state of their surroundings, dragging herself to her feet.

“I almost forgot,” She sighed wistfully, imagining her warm bed. Moving to go get the cleaning supplies, she waved at him over her shoulder. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. I’ll have the report, too.”

“Tch.” He said, standing up and moving behind where she stood in front of the supplies closet, snatching a towel from her hand. “Give me a rag, brat. I’ll start on the walls.”

He ignored her surprised stare as he made good on his promise.

The next night, Levi found himself standing outside the door to Louis’ pub. From the windowed entrance, he could see F/N with her back facing him; she was pushing the bar’s tables to the sides of the room, muscles straining with the effort.

She had changed out of her regular day-job attire and was wearing the clothes he had first seen her in - black head to toe and easy to move around in. Perfect for a spy, and perfect for what he had planned.

As he watched her flit back and forth to clear the room, Levi once again wondered why he was doing this. Reporting her shortcomings to Erwin would be disastrous for her life expectancy, sure, but he wouldn’t ever have to sit in this shitty bar again. He could get on with his life; the Commanders pet project failing didn’t do anything but expose him to significantly less shitty tea.

But even as he tried to convince himself to turn home and right into Erwin’s office, he could only sigh. He knew he wouldn’t do it, just like he knew the countless other times he had this argument with himself on the way over here.

It wasn’t out of compassion for the young thief. If anything, her weakness grated on him, had him itching to just put her out of her own goddamn misery and end this charade. She was barely tolerable and the less time spent in her presence, the better.

No, he had agreed to train her because he saw the potential.

It was a skill he developed at a young age - to see a seemingly harmless object and know that in his hands, it could become deadly.

The way she evaded him that night six months ago was like nothing he had encountered before - she hadn’t been wrong, only Louis tipping him and Erwin off got her caught. Never before had he seen someone know the empty, quiet spaces in the world and melt into them as if she was nothing.

It was impressive, he would begrudgingly admit. But more importantly, if honed, it would be dangerous.

Already was. The information she had stolen for Erwin had brought the Corp back from monetary extinction. He had her to thank for his shiny new 3DMG, traded up from his hand me down last generation model. The person she could become is someone they wanted on their side.

But he also wasn’t an idiot - he wouldn’t teach her enough to kill him, or Erwin. But just enough to give her a leg up should anyone try and fuck with her.

The Captain’s sigh was self deprecating as he watched her trip herself with a chair she was carrying, still not noticing him. His and Erwin's safety probably wasn’t something he would have to worry about.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the glass, the door already locked to keep out any last minute bar flies. She whipped around, waving when she saw him.

“Hi!” She chirped, opening the door and stepping aside, “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come, but I got ready anyway.”

He grunted in response, throwing his jacket onto the bar counter. She was bouncing lightly on her heels with nervous energy. “You need to calm down.”

She flinched, but stopped bouncing. He narrowed his eyes. If this was going to work, he needed her focused - and right now she was practically quaking.

“If I wanted you dead brat, it would have already happened.”

“Of course,” She stuttered, “I know that. Obviously.” E/C eyes darted above his head, where there was still a bullet lodged.

Levi exhaled loudly in frustration. Fine, he’d just have to show her what distraction would cost her.

“Get over here, stand in the middle of the room.” She did obediently, “Good, now square up. I’m going to come at you and your one job is to not get hit, understand?”

F/N paused with her fists halfway raised, staring at him wide-eyed, “H-huh? Wait, I’m not rea-”

He charged at her. She dodged wildly to the right as he faked a swing with his left fist, only to be met with a kick to her side.

She was knocked over, crashing into the side of the bar hard.

Wincing, she sat up angrily.

“Ow - what the hell was that!?” She yelled, fuming. She recoiled back into the bar as he stalked towards her.

“That,” He answered, crouching down to be eye level, “was pathetic. I knew it was bad, but shit. There's not much to work with. Your focus is abysmal,” he began listing, “You show your hand too easily and you fall like you want to break something.”

F/N did her best to hold her glare, but each new fault he listed broke her down a bit more.

“At least we know where to start,” He sighed, standing up, “from the bottom. Get up, stand in the middle and square up again.”

She hesitated again, fearful at him attacking her. It only took a raised eyebrow before she compiled.

He studied her, before circling around to stand behind her.

“Your biggest advantage is that you’re light on your feet and fast, when you’re not being a klutz. I've seen you do it to dodge the handsy drunks. Use it - don’t stop moving. Widen your stance,” He kicked at her calf until satisfied her feet were in the right spot. Then he turned her with a grip on her hips, “And turn so that your side faces your opponent - you want to take up the least amount of space as possible while still allowing for the greatest range of movement.”

He stepped back, before humming. Coming around to face her again, he nodded once.

“Good. Now, the tough part. You need to learn how to read what your opponent’s doing before they do it.” He rolled his sleeves up, cuffing them at the elbow.

“And how do I learn to do that?” She asked, awkwardly shifting around in her new stance.

His eyes were feral, and she instinctively took a step back when she caught sight of them.

“Experience.”

If she thought the first knockdown was bad, the next thirty or so were much worse.

Levi didn’t let up until just before dawn, when she finally managed to dodge one of his blows, turning to him in glee only to be met with him sweeping her legs out from under her.

She fell hard on her back, winded and glaring up at him.

“Don’t get cocky,” He said, looming over her, “Overconfidence will get you killed.”

He offered her a hand. F/N rolled her eyes, but took it and he hauled her to her feet.

“Better, anyway.” He decided, and she figured it was as much validation she was going to get, “We’ll call it a night.”

The thief nodded, finally letting herself feel the exhaustion rolling over her now that the immediate danger had passed.

Walking towards the pub’s cash drawer, she opened it, sliding out her report hidden under the bills and handing it to him.

He took it, nodding once in thanks.

“So,” She began casually, “now that I can defend myself, you won’t tell Erwin?”

Levi paused in putting on his jacket.

“You think you’re set after one lesson?” He asked, incredulous, “Are you an idiot? I wasn't even going at you with even a fraction of power - even the shittiest MPs would still fuck you up.”

F/N stared at him, mouth agape.

“Then what am I sup-”

“I’ll see you next week, brat. You better not be distracted next time.” He stated as if they had already agreed. Not waiting to hear her arguments, he used the front door to leave.

She could only stare at where he was before moving to lock the door. She stuck her tongue out at his back as she watched him turn the corner.

Making her way up to her apartment, she tenderly prodded one of her many bruises, groaning loudly at the thought of having to do it all over again.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi #reader insert #fanfiction #gem writes

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years

Text

And There Are Storms We Cannot Weather (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Terranort x Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 3, 872

Summary: It’s a simple plan: pull Xehanort’s heart out of Terra’s body. Until she learns the worst.

Read on AO3

A/N: What a way to break out of a hiatus: by going after the hardest WIP I’ve ever worked on. I have to thank @lyssala and @steadyknight, my beta readers, who assured me that this didn’t need as much work as I thought. I’m also just grateful for their excitement over this??? Thank you so much. ;-; ;-; ;-;

~*~*~*~*~

Are You Dead or Are You Sleeping?

Darkness is cool to the touch, a flame that numbs the skin with the breeziness of a damp, early morning. As she travels through the corridor, Aqua lets it coax her anticipation to sleep.

When a portal opens to a new world, she steps onto a precipice. The sudden exposure to sunlight and air is like withstanding a slap to the face. And yet... Feeling the sun again after all these years is the giddy reminder that she’s powerful. She’s free, she can go wherever she pleases. But does it have to blind her? It takes longer than usual for her eyes to adjust.

The grass stalks are as tall as she is. Canopies litter the horizon, and jungles claim the mountains beyond, except for the highest peaks. Near her is a lumpy dirt trail, flattened by people spending years traveling on foot. Now, she only has to determine which direction he took.

Darkness works in a network of shadows, always present and always shifting, stretching to giant proportions before shrinking into the tiniest crook. Shadows mold together. They speak and leave echoes behind.

Aqua concentrates on tracing them. She starts with the way the wind sways the grass stalks, blending their shadows together, until they brace the footsteps of a stalking panther, hiding in a field of flowers. Pollinating from one flower, a bird takes flight. Now it soars, its grounded shadow passing that of a tree’s.

There he is, stepping over a root deep in a thicket. There he is, with his strange, beating heart, rumbling with the flutter of someone facing the edge of a cliff yet with the steady lull of meditation. He takes up too much space in the cavity behind his left breast, making it hard for her to sense Terra. Once she’s done with him, though, that will cease to be an issue.

“I know where you are,” she whispers, pleased with the way he whips over his shoulder, expecting to see a face behind him when there’s no one.

But voices prevent her from moving. Footsteps climb uphill - two men - and Aqua billows into the shrubbery, first smoke and then nothing, just the empty space between.

“I don’t expect he’s much of a nice guy.” She recognizes this voice.

“Emperors rarely are. Unless they’re naked.” This one chuckles.

Riku, Champion of Understanding The Darkness and of Having Enough Of His Own as he claimed on the black shores where he met Aqua, waits for a large, soft man to (casually) catch up. Riku is not tall - barely a couple of inches taller than Aqua - but he stands that way. Professional and confident. He stood that way when he fought against her, and stood the same when she won.

“Is there a story behind that?” Riku asks. She’s so close to him, just a leaf away from his shoulder, but he doesn’t notice her eyes staring up at him. He grins with the subtleness of someone who doesn’t like attention.

The man scratches his scalp under his small hat, then rubs his fingers onto his sweeping poncho, with sandals to match. He must be a farmer. On his leash is a llama dragging a cart.

“The sun punished our most wicked emperor.” The farmer takes this restful opportunity to sip water out of a spouted, clay pot. His smile is big and inviting, his stature enormous and big-bellied. He gestures wildly as if telling a story to children. “Set his clothes on fire every time he wore them. Or at least,” he shrugs, “made them feel that way. But the emperor wouldn’t stand down. He ruled naked in his own palace for the rest of his life.” He smiles. “But he always kept feathers in his hair. Man liked to have some class.”

“Don’t they all.” Riku rolls his eyes. “Is your emperor the type that likes to keep his clothes on?”

“Anyone with half a sane mind would.” The farmer laughs, but he doesn’t sound certain. If anything, he’s nervous and excited and naive.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Riku doesn’t sound convinced.

“You know, I share a name with an emperor.”

“Pacha?”

“The one and only.” Pacha clicks with his tongue and that gets his llama going again. “Best emperor we’ve ever had. Brought down the price of milk. Who wouldn’t think I’m blessed with charm and good luck?”

This finally brings a genuine smirk to Riku’s face.

The men chat as they continue their way, disappearing downhill. It gives Aqua the opening to step out.

It has to be some sort of escort mission. If a Keybearer is here, then there are wild Heartless roaming around. She’ll have to keep hers hidden. Either way, whatever Riku is doing is not her problem.

She hones in on her destination. Kicks off her feet and glides through the grove. It’s easy to catch up to Xehanort - blend in with the shadows, pass through the trees, speed up, go even faster. Her heart won’t lead her astray. With every yard, she burns with the vigor that darkness had numbed away. She heaves. She’s found him, she’ll pin him down, she’ll take him back.

By the time she catches sight of his white hair, she snaps. She roars. Just seeing his face is a sharp reminder that no matter what happens, she has to see this through. Calling for her Keyblade, she attacks.

He barely dodges, landing on his knees. He flashes a toothy grin like he’s baring fangs.

“You’re here,” he announces, and nearby birds scatter. “Never would I have considered myself so fascinating as to be worthy of your graceful presence.”

She scoffs and moves to strike. But he only laughs something hearty, with a boom. He floats backward into the thicket, waving his arm like he’s dismissively tossing a farewell.

Xehanort hovers in circles behind the trees as though to shake her off. Which is stupid, really, when she could feel where he is.

But that’s what he wants, isn’t it? When she takes a moment to locate him, it leaves her open to attack - from the Guardian.

It hovers close, blowing humid breath, muscles twitching like it’s in pain. It groans so deeply and so quietly she can only hear it as a whisper. She stabs it with her Keyblade and it lurches backward. She cartwheels away to create more distance, then stills to focus on Xehanort’s whereabouts.

The process takes too long. The Guardian attempts to grab her. She dives, throwing herself father away. It is relentless, hurling spurple, fiery blasts. Overwhelming her. Not letting her stay still. If she’s ever going to focus, she’ll have to beat it into submission. Knocking her Keyblade into its face feels good.

But her focus has shifted.

Footsteps charge behind her. No time to react. Xehanort tackles her - strong arms around her waist - and throws her onto the ground with a grunt and a blow to the stomach.

His hair. It’s brown. She’s face to face with plastic blue eyes and a smug, foreign grin.

She stops breathing. Before she realizes.

“Get off of me!” She knees him in the gut. He winces and grabs his side while she crawls out of his grip and starts to float away.

He growls and grabs her by the ankle, whiplashing her back onto the ground. The Guardian picks her up by the forearms, clasping them together so that she loses her grip on her Keyblade.

Aqua shrieks and her Heartless hear the call. The ground rumbles, the birds scatter farther as a tidal wave of Shadows slither to and fro in a fury. Help help help help.

The Guardian drops Aqua and disappears. She rubs her scalp to soothe the headache, only to find herself alone. Xehanort has gone, leaving nothing but his warmth on her skin. Straggling onto her feet, Aqua closes her eyes and follows his heart when she hears a courageous yell.

Riku catapults into the sky, a large Keyblade in hand, cutting through her Heartless right down the middle. The most vulnerable. He vanquishes one, its life force pulling and twisting and snapping Aqua in the shoulder before any identifying trace of it vanishes.

Xehanort left her to face Riku alone.

“You’ve tricked me,” she curses.

Her Heartless gather into a tornado, defending themselves. She summons energy from a pit deep inside her core - Darkness responds just as quickly as Light - and her heart throbs with the movement of water crackling at the touch of freeze. Sharing a tether with her, the Heartless absorb the same growth, stacking a barrier around their communion. It makes Riku’s strikes as soft as silk. She commands, “Take care of him.”

She whisks away, deeper into the thicket until it opens up to a valley, riddled with boulders and divided by creeks. Xehanort doesn’t leave a scent but a trail of essence. His heart is beating quite rapidly now.

Aqua doesn’t have much time until she loses her temporary upgrade, but soon she catches him in the distance, white hair back on center stage. He’s running, but too slow. She glides faster, her Keyblade ready to slam him at full velocity.

Right before she could run him over, he turns and blocks her attack with his Keyblade. They ricochet, a thunder clap booming the instant they touch. She gracefully lands on her feet. He collapses and tumbles onto his back, groaning as his Keyblade dissipates as quickly as it came. He doesn’t bother getting up.

Good. He’s doing nothing but heaving, one hand on his shoulder as he gazes listlessly at the sky, not acknowledging her as she struts closer.

He chuckles. “Bested by scorn. I didn’t expect I’d live to see the day.”

“Get up.”

He only lifts himself onto his elbows, fine with settling there. His eyebrow cocks, inviting her to do what she wants. “What sort of fantasy are you plotting?”

She snarls. But she has to take it easy. She can’t harm the body.

Aqua threatens his left breast with the tip of her Keyblade. Normally, this is a forbidden act. Normally.

“One where I’m drowning you,” she says, stalking the lines of his face, patiently anticipating the exact moment where he squirms.

“How inconvenient.”

He may act unintimidated, what with the way he flicks his wrist as if her words bore him. But there’s still one truth: he ran from her. His eyes snake down her arm to the metal inches away from his skin. She presses the blunt end of her Keyblade under his chin and tilts it back up to face her, the metal digging into his windpipe.

Years of lengthy debates about matters of the heart - how it works, whether it’s born in darkness or in light, its purpose with intense emotion - have agreed on one thing: to touch a heart with a Keyblade is unspoken of. Its effect is irreversible and numerous. Creating new personalities, breaking the mind, erasing the memories, banishing the sense of self, cloning the shadow. The heart will always fight back against an act so unnatural that no Master has even tried to experiment with it.

At least not with Light. Nothing about this Xehanort is natural.

Aqua doesn’t want complications. Just a simple act of plucking his heart out of place and throwing it away to Where It Doesn’t Matter. Where the panthers can eat it. Where Kingdom Hearts can reclaim it. It doesn’t belong in Terra’s body, so it shouldn’t be difficult. Put him to sleep so he doesn’t fight back.

She’ll preserve the body in the same ocean that birthed her anew. The water will restore Terra back to (almost) normal. Darkness has miraculous methods. It gave her the choice to leave, something Light has consistently failed her with. It will keep him safe until he’s ready to talk. Maybe then, they can take something back for themselves when he’s not so different from her anymore.

She’ll have to be gentle.

“I’m taking your heart out,” she hisses. “It’s more than you deserve.”

Xehanort’s eyes carefully lock with hers as a new, knowing, self-satisfied, punchable smile inches its way to his ears.

“Whose heart?”

Her teeth grit against each other, nipping her lip. He’ll regret asking stupid questions. Biting her tongue, she focuses on what’s most important.

The heart is a proud organ. It sings with its own voice, sheet music on display as a record of a person’s hopes for the future, their fears developed by the past. She expects one of them to be silent.

But it isn’t.

It’s a mess.

It’s a mess, a cannibal, a wrestle of two where one drinks breath from the other. When one pushes away, the other pulls it in. One beats and the other follows rhythmically. Words are shared, dreams are rewritten. Muscle and sinew intertwine and blend. There is no point where Xehanort ends and Terra begins. They are two. They are one. And when they both notice she’s reading them, together they shush her. To throw one away is to shred them apart. She’d have to say goodbye.

So all Aqua does is stare at him. All he enjoys is her hesitance.

A crackle of twigs and the rustling of leaves announce Riku’s stumbling arrival, panting. When he sees them, Keybalde to heart, his eyes snap open.

“Don’t do that!”

Riku uppercuts, knocking Aqua’s Keyblade away. He steps between them. If he thinks he’s doing the right thing, he’s stupid.

Aqua doesn’t give him the benefit of explaining herself. She can’t even speak - she gasps from his sudden appearance, and hammers away at him by instinct. Riku is quicker, his strikes are harder, a prodigy in every movement. They flurry through attacks, powering each swing with magic but neither of them back down.

Here her Heartless come, colliding onto the ground and set to wash Riku over. He glances at them - there is that perfect opening. She swings from a direction meant to mislead him. He takes the bait. Landing a blow across his fighting arm, she throws him into a boulder.

But Xehanort is gone. Again.

“You made me lose him,” she mutters.

Xehanort has left this world entirely, and worse. He’s nowhere to be found. But how is that possible? She should be able to tell where he’s going, where he’s landing. Maybe he’s too far for her ability.

“Find him,” she says to three of her Heartless: the hunter, the butcher, and the accused.

Behind her Riku groans, holding his head. Pacha scurries into view, pushing branches off his face, and helps Riku up.

“Are those monsters going to move?” Pacha quietly asks Riku about the horde near them, waiting for her instructions.

“I don’t know. I’m fine, don’t fuss.”

“Monsters?” Aqua says, turning over her shoulder.

Riku is still shaking on his legs when she approaches, and Pacha holds his arms out in surrender. But she doesn’t attack the farmer. Instead, she pins Riku’s neck between the boulder behind him and her Keyblade, chipping minerals from the surface.

“Is that what you see when you look at me?” she calmly asks Riku. Because Pacha doesn’t know any better. Because Riku doesn’t understand what he fights. “Do you think that’s fair, after everything I’ve been through?”

Riku gapes at her. He has normal eyes, the color of turquoise. He soon wipes that look off his face. “It’s not.” At least he’s respectful.

“Please don’t hurt him, miss,” Pacha pleads, leaning forward. Attempts to touch her shoulder with assuring intention but he’s lucky he doesn’t make contact. “We have a misunderstanding. He means no harm.”

Pacha is trying to cater to her point of view, his round brown eyes earnest and desperate. His voice is warm like tea, giant chin tense yet unassuming. She hates how terrified he is of her. Golden eyes of a monster.

“I’ll spare him,” she whispers. “Just for you.”

With that, she swings a dark blast that sends Riku flying off yards away, knocking him out. Pacha runs after, picking him up in his arms. He glances over his shoulder to see if she would chase them. Do not worry, Pacha, she wouldn’t. She simply doesn’t want to be bothered.

Her chosen three have not moved from their spot though, twiddling their claws around their antennas.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” she asks them.

Aqua tries again and connects with the expanse between the worlds, but he has disappeared from her radar.

She tries not to panic. She summons a portal, reaching for him among the shadowy tendrils in a network that surveilles everything within deep space. It licks many stars, many worlds, many lights, millions of them, earth and people and animals, in a void that stretches forever. All hearts beat just past the border where none can survive. She goes further, to pockets with no worlds and holes with no stars. The one heart that matters isn’t here, and isn’t anywhere, as if he stopped existing.

“What kind of magic is this?” Darkness should not be able to cloak him this well.

So he is nowhere in the Realm of Light or In Between. There’s one more place to check. She leaves the void, coming back to the desert where she found him the first time. Night blankets it now and blankets it empty.

Digging her claws into the sand, Aqua sinks into black, floating down to a seabed that houses a tipping clocktower, where night doesn’t stop and her thoughts mute. Darkness watches over its own, the same creatures that hungered for her heart before now casually passing by. A Darkside acknowledges her presence with short interest, as though it’s not an intimidating giant but a child. She asks the Realm of Darkness if he’s here. He’s not.

Aqua swims back up, breathing only when she reaches the desert.

What’s left to do now? Nothing, but wait for him to turn back on again. He’ll have to - whatever magic he’s using can’t last forever.

In this moment of quiet, Aqua crashes into one revelation: she’s tired. She’s never felt that way in the Realm of Darkness. The desire or need to sleep hasn’t occurred to her in years. At first, she avoided it out of fear that she would miss a rare chance of escape. It’s bizarre to measure how heavy her limbs have become, to feel her eyelids wither. She’s weak.

She could always go back to the Realm of Darkness and shake it off, but it’s not a bad weakness. As she walks, she takes note of how her thighs feel sore and like jelly all at once, fatigue settling beside the determination to keep functioning. The moment she rests will be bliss - the thought of it is alluring, as though sleep is a forbidden sweet. She wants a taste. This is what it feels like to be alive.

Ahead of her is that same cave where she left Terra’s armor. It’s as good a place as any; she’ll be hard-pressed to belong somewhere else. The armor sits in the same spot, covered in dust.

“You’re dirty,” she chastises.

Sitting across from it, she wiggles into the ridges of the rockface, which stab her around the spine, and brings her knees to her chest. Her claws brush against her skin as she hugs herself, frigid. The dirt beneath is rough and stiff on her muscles, but they agree with the rest, sighing something delicious with relief. The stars here are needle pricks in the sky, like they’re farther away. They leave the desert dark, the wind howling and cold. Aqua shares the view with her Heartless, who slither into the cave and fill it up.

Next to her, the armor sits tall. Terra wasn’t always tall, but the last few years together proved otherwise.

But Terra was always strong. Training with him was never about beating him through brute force. A fool’s errand, really. It was about outmaneuvering him, outsmarting, outpacing. The best training she could ask for to prepare her for the worst.

Terra won at wrestling, almost unanimously. One knee hooked behind hers, and huge arms wrapped around her back, and one hand pushing her pelvis hard against the ground, and his shoulder to her face, smelling of sweat and yeast and faded sandalwood from the shower early that morning. And heat. His heat on her.

Give it up, he would say.

Forfeit, he’d continue when she wouldn’t stand down.

Really, Aqua? You’re such a sore loser.

Maybe that was slightly true. Aqua would press a hand somewhere where his fussed shirt exposed skin - near his neck, or the small of his back - and summon ice, jolting him with the speed of a surprised cat. Still, he’d have the nerve to hold onto her despite the torture, to drag her where he landed, because he despised losing just as much. Because he liked to stay close. Because she liked it, too, and slowly he figured that out.

That’s cheating. Terra’s laugh shivered, as rigid as his voice.

What Aqua would give to hear that laugh now. She takes her tattered sleeve and wipes a layer of dust off the armor’s visor, gently so she wouldn’t knock it over.

Terra’s (Xehanort’s) heart, their one and strongest bond, mesh together. Aqua mimics by intertwining her own fingers, red on red like bloody exposed tissue. One by one, she unlaces them, playing images of untangling threads of muscle in her mind over and over, ripping the knots that can’t be undone. When the time comes, Aqua can’t be sure she’ll have the strength to do the same to him.

She can do it. For his sake. She can’t for his sake.

One of her Heartless - the youngest and oldest - paws at her lap. Heartless can’t be understood like humans. Part of succumbing means to strip themselves of the experiences that mark them as an individual from all the rest. Reading their hearts usually turn up nothing, but Aqua may get a memory of a long-forgotten occupation. Flashes of what their friends sounded like. Sometimes a face. Never a name. Always a turbulent feeling.

The youngest and the oldest is a six year old, turned a thousand years ago. A blonde girl in a blue dress, looking up with curious eyes. She wants reassurance, alarmed by Aqua’s reminiscence. After all, this girl doesn’t have strong images of her past life to hold onto, so the sudden rush of feelings must be painful in the only way nostalgia could deliver.

“It’s okay to be alone,” Aqua says, petting the Shadow. “It’s better that way. You get more resilient when you don’t have to rely on anyone.”

When you don’t have to feel disappointed. When you don’t risk betrayal. While Heartless swarm together, they can’t communicate. They don’t understand much except for hunger, until they get distracted and they forget, numbing over and leading a simple life.

It’s so much better than remembering everything, hoping someone would come for her as long as she stayed patient.

Aqua can spare some time as she leans her head back against the stone, knuckling her skull. The Heartless cradles into her arms.

Aqua has waited for twelve years. One more night doesn’t compare.

A/N: This chapter makes references to Emperor’s New Groove (2000).

#terraqua #terraquanort #terranort #anti-aqua #dark aqua #dark terraqua #riku #pacha #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #there's a lot I'm excited about in this fic #and a lot i'm terrified #my fic

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damienthepious · 4 years

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alas, no kisses this tuesday. mostly just grumpiness, but it’s okay. it’s fine. >:3c

Tomorrow’s Some Kind Of Strangerland (chapter 2)

[ch 1] [ao3] [ch 3] [etc]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum & The Keep, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Sir Damien, Rilla, Queen Mira, Original Monster Character(s)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ceasefire, Pre-Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, (some characters tagged will not appear until later chapters), canonical character illness, asking for help, (i still dn’t know how to tag things rip), (uhhhhh canon-typical fantasy monster-hatred? that’s gonna be a thing)

Summary: When Mira took the throne, she did what no human ruler in living memory has done - she reached out, and brokered peace with the monsters. It is a shaky, uncertain sort of peace, but she and the current monster Senate have managed to maintain it for a handful of years now with only minor incident.

Lord Arum has not interacted with the human infection in the Northern Wilds since the ceasefire, but when his Keep becomes ill past his own ability to cure, the Senate has a peculiar idea for how to help the isolated Lord while testing the goodwill of their tentative allies at the same time.

Chapter Summary: Arum arrives at the Citadel. He finds himself not particularly welcome.

Chapter Notes: Beep beep! everyone is being very very very mean to each other this chapter. Except Angelo. Thank you Angelo.

The Senate sending him to personally ask the humans for help is a punishment for something, Arum is certain of that. At the very least, he knows that the snail hates him.

It is not fair, that Arum needs to traverse the wilds to go beg for help a second time to even less sympathetic an audience, but then, the Universe itself is not fair. The Universe is unfair, and it seemingly delights in Arum's humiliation.

Well.

Regardless of how it burns, Arum can stomach humiliation, if it means the survival of his Keep. The survival of his Keep is the only thing that matters. The humans never even came close to destroying his home during their precious little attempts at warmaking, and they will certainly not be the cause of its destruction now.

Though not for lack of trying.

Arum cannot even portal back to his Keep to rest, along the journey. Not with any regularity, anyway. The added distance and the frequency of summoning would drain its energy, and when it is already struggling merely to push back its illness, Arum could not possibly justify risking it for the sake of a softer place to rest his head. The unintended consequence of this, however, becomes more and more apparent the closer he comes to their Citadel.

The war is at a standstill. One would not be aware of that, if they guessed merely by the attitudes of the human knights who patrol their roads. If it was merely aggressive looks and posturing, Arum could soundly ignore them and move on, but every single one seems determined to interrogate him, to interrogate his motives and his destination and his reasons for traveling alone-

Not a one of them will leave him be, not until he shows them the letter the Senate sent him with, closed with their bold seal and addressed to the human Queen. They never seem any happier about the situation when he relents and shows his trinket, but at least they tend to leave him alone, after that.

He feels half-wilted by the time he finally sees the Citadel, piercing up out of the jungle in the distance. He can barely sleep simply for the sake of his own safety, even when he curls into the branches of the trees above he cannot be certain he will not be seen by another less-than-amicable monster. He can still feel the slow creep of stiffness inside of him, as well, a sympathetic echo of what ails his home, and despite the Keep encouraging this plan, Arum still feels a stab of guilt for leaving at such a time. It seems wrong, even if this distance is only for the purpose of seeking help.

Arum is not stopped at the gates of the Citadel, but the guards posted there certainly do not look happy to let him pass, either. Arum seethes, and stiffens his spine, and breezes past with his snout in the air.

Stupid, stubborn, self-important creatures. Every single one of them. How any Queen of such unpleasant little things could have managed to convince the Senate to peace is rather beyond him.

"Ever since the truce these beasts act as if they may slither through our streets like the war never occurred," Sir Damien murmurs, his eyes darting sharply between the handful of monsters he can see dotted through the marketplace. His attention is particularly bright upon the figure of one monster, unfamiliar and tall and out of place in his brightly colored clothing, his curved horns singling him out even further above the heads of the citizenry. "As if they have any right to our Citadel-"

"Oh, come now," Angelo chides beside him, though his tone is still jovial. "That seems an unkind thought, Sir Damien."

"Unkind," Damien sighs, shaking his head, half his attention still on the tall monster as his meandering path brings him closer towards the pair of them. "Sir Angelo, less than a month ago a beast took a life within these very walls-"

"Was that not-" Angelo pauses, tilts his head, "some smuggled animal? Magical, yes, but not-"

"A monster is a monster, Sir Angelo. Merely because its motives could not be traced to any strategy does not mean-"

"- a simple question," says a guttural, rumbling voice, and Damien's attention flits back towards the monster, and the man he has apparently accosted into speaking with him.

Damien's feet move before he even thinks to do so, striding towards the pair with Angelo at his heel, just in time to see the man stick his hand into the sack in his arms, tossing a handful of grain directly into the monster's face before the man turns and marches away. Damien's own feet do not falter, and he places himself in between the creature and the man he will likely now attempt to exact some sort of vengeance upon.

"You," he calls, stern and frowning. "Leave that poor man alone, beast."

The monster bares his teeth as he steps back, brushing a clawed hand down the front of his vivid purple cape and dusting the grain and dust away. "Yes," he snaps. "Obviously, obviously I was the one causing an issue in our interaction, of course there would be some human social rule to preclude a monster asking one single question-" He turns, his teeth still visible and sharp, and his eyes are precisely as vivid as his cape as he fixes them on Damien. "Ah. A knight. So that is why you felt the need to interject, rather than simply cringing away from me as the rest of your species seems intent to do."

"With good cause," Damien mutters. "What business have you here?"

The lizard's eyes flash, all four of his hands clenching into fists, and a strange hissing noise escapes between his teeth before he answers. "Are monsters allowed within the walls of your shabby little city or are they not?"

Damien snaps his jaw shut, his cheeks going hot with indignation, but Angelo answers before he can regain his tongue.

"We are at peace, my good beast. You are welcome to come and go as you please, provided that you cause no trouble, and harm no citizenry of the Second Citadel."

Something like incredulity, perhaps amusement, crosses the monster's face at this answer, and then his lip pulls up in something like a sneer. "Then I do not see why I should answer. My business is my own, and it is not as if you lot will assist. As I am learning more and more quickly."

"Our duty is to help!" Angelo chimes brightly, and the monster blinks in disbelief as Damien scowls.

"To help the citizens of our Citadel, Sir Angelo," Damien corrects quickly.

"That sounds more apt," the monster growls. "Now move. You are in my way and I have little time to waste."

Damien's mouth hangs open, and the fury burns within him even as Angelo amicably takes a step back, gesturing for the monster to pass.

"How- how dare you speak to a knight of the Crown in such a way! Some foreign beast, some interloper-"

"Considering I was nearly assaulted three distinct times by your ilk on the journey here," the monster snarls, "you will forgive me my lapse in decorum. My would-be attackers were dressed quite as you are, knight. I expect you would have recognized every single one of them as a brother-in-arms. I expect, were you by their side, you would have acted just the same."

"I would have acted as is my duty," Damien says stiffly. "I would have done my part to determine any threat to our Citadel, and protect against it."

"Listening to the lot of you," the creature hisses, low and dangerous, "one might come to think that you are unhappy that you are no longer given leave to slit throats at your leisure, takatakataka."

"The hypocrisy of you beasts," Damien says, indignant. "You- you foul mindless things cannot even be trusted to hold in solidarity to the idea of peace!"

"It is taking far more solidarity then I believed myself capable of to hold to the idea of peace at this particular moment, knight."

"Is that a threat?" Damien's hand twitches, his foot turning and setting his body at a defensive angle, and the beast's strangely bright eyes narrow further. "Do you dare level a threat against a knight of the Crown?"

The monster's stance goes stiff, his spine straightening in a way that looks almost regal. "I would not lower myself enough to do so. I will not give you the satisfaction of provoking the beast to violence." He snarls low and Damien's hand twitches again instinctively, but his bow is still safely stowed at his back. "I do not have time for this," the monster repeats. "I have business to attend to. Either point me towards the palace or simply get out of my way , little human."

"The palace-"

"Oh," Angelo interrupts brightly, pointing over Damien's shoulder. "You could not possibly miss it. The very middle of the city- with the highest tower, just there, do you see?"

The monster frowns just slightly, eying Angelo before he follows the line of his finger towards the tower. When Angelo waits with a light smile, not continuing, the monster nods. "I see."

"There. The entrance is at the base of the tower. I wish you well on your business, friend monster."

The lizard looks baffled again, but when Damien makes a breathless, angry noise, his frown returns, and he shoots Damien a vicious look before he turns without another word and stalks off in the direction Angelo pointed out, his tail and cape billowing behind him and his snout in the air.

"Why did you inform that creature how to reach the palace of all places, Sir Angelo? You do not have the first clue what he intends to do-"

"On the contrary, Sir Damien! I expect he shall accomplish whatever business he was in such a great hurry to complete."

Damien opens his mouth, and then he sighs. "But you do not know what that business is, Sir Angelo. You cannot know if he has some- some nefarious intent!"

"Why would he have that?"

"Because he is a-" Damien cuts himself off, lifting a hand to run over his face in frustration. "Sir Angelo, I think you are far too trusting. It is our duty, my friend, to remain vigilant against potential threats to our Citadel and our Queen," Damien says, his voice firm. "We cannot become complacent, even if all others do. Even at this tentative peace, the monsters may still prove to be just such a threat."

Angelo almost looks chastised for a moment, beneath his confusion, but then he brightens again. "But- certainly, Sir Damien, this time of peace is a boon! Even upon your own life, is that not so? Even your own Miss Rilla, with her Exile lifted, her talents recognized- were the strictures of the war still upon us, of course-"

"That is, of course, a blessing," Damien agrees, smiling very slightly as he ducks his head. "But my flower does not do magic. She was never involved in any true heresy! Her talents and those of her parents were merely misunderstood. Of course, of course it is reasonable and right for our society to recognize at last the disservice done to my brilliant Amaryllis. But the monsters-"

Damien pauses, watching warily as a creature covered in what appears to be some combination of feathers and tree bark trots by on clawed feet, its eyes guarded as it passes the pair of them and then dashes away.

"The monsters?" Angelo prompts, and Damien's fists tighten at his sides.

"The monsters," Damien says quietly, "cannot be trusted."

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lord arum #sir damien #tomorrow's some kind of strangerland #lizard kissin' tuesday

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Banner Ch 58:You Have To Go Through The Worst To Get To The Best

Intro The Time Heist worked, but at a cost. Natasha gave her life for the Soul Stone. Following a promise to make her sacrifice worth something, the Avengers continued their plan and succeeded in reversing the Snap. But along with everyone else, the biggest threat the Avengers have ever faced re-appeared.

Thanos.

Now Steve and Katie, along with the rest of their team are locked in a fearsome battle, between light and dark, life and death. Simply put, it’s a battle which they cannot afford to lose because they’re in the Endgame now…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Sorry for your loss.

4 words that Katie was already sick of hearing. Sorry. I mean...what did people have to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was their fault. Still, she acknowledged the sympathies that came her way, completely automatically, almost emotionlessly. She barely registered the fact she had spoken to Fury and Hill, two people who had been dead 5 years ago, she didn’t have the energy to wish she could knock Ross’ head off his shoulders and had no idea how long she had walked what was left of the compound...maybe an hour or so? Who cared anyway? She simply did what people asked her to do to help out, whilst Steve hurried around organising everyone and barking orders.

Nevertheless, when the crowds of Emergency Services, Armed Forces and Support Staff that had flooded the Compound left, she suddenly felt alone and found herself in their compound apartment, sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Just staring. It was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Her brain was screaming all sorts at her, but she couldn’t really understand any of it. She simply felt broken.

“Katie…”

She looked up to see Steve in the doorway.

“Hey.” she gave him a soft smile. “Pepper just spoke to Happy…the kids are fine. All 3 fast asleep. He’s going to wake them in a few hours and bring them back.” “No.” Katie shook her head “I want him to bring them now.” “Honey its almost 4 am.” he said, and she frowned. Ok, so she’d been walking around a little longer than she thought, then. “Let them sleep. We can go, get cleaned up and…” “Plan how we tell them their Uncle is dead.” she said softly, gazing back down at her hands.

Steve took a shaky breath. He felt beyond guilty. Guilty that he got to go home to his kids because of the fact that Tony wouldn’t. Steeling himself, he made his way to the bed, sat down next to his wife and wrapped his arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“What’s everyone doing?” she asked softly.

“Rhodey is in with Ross and President Ellis…” “Ellis is here?” she frowned.

Steve nodded “Rhodey’s giving him a brief on what’s happened. They’re gonna need to put an announcement out so…”

“Suppose it was probably a shock everyone re-appearing again.” she said quietly. “What about everyone else?”

“Well Lang, Parker and Bruce already left.” he said as his hand gently rubbed up and down her arm. “And there’s a chopper on the way to take Pepper home and a couple more following to take the rest of us to the Tower. The roads are completely jammed, apparently there’s impromptu parties taking place all over. Might be a while before we can get back through to Brooklyn.” The thought of partying seemed alien to Katie, but as she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. People would be greeting lost loved ones, celebrating the fact the world has returned to normal.

For them anyway.

“Clint will want to go home...” Katie nodded “He’ll be desperate to see Laura and the kids.” “We’ve got a jet on the way for him so he can go as soon as possible.”

If ever Katie was grateful for having a husband with Military organisational skills it was now. He’d literally thought of everything. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into him even more, seeking out comfort like a child, as they sat in silence until they were ready to leave.

****

“I guess this is strange for you too, huh?” Steve said as they made their way into the Tower, Bucky and Sam each carrying one of the bags of stuff they’d brought with them from the Compound, Steve the other. “Yeah you could say that.” Sam shrugged “one minute everyone was in Wakanda and then the next minute it was just us, and the jungle had changed and then that Strange dude turns up and tells us it’s been 5 years and we needed to go fight one last time…”

“Has it really been 5 years?” Bucky asked.

Katie nodded

“So now you’re older than me Stevie…” he grinned.

Steve chuckled a Katie gave a small smile. “Shut up.”

They made their way into the elevator and FRIDAY greeted them, somewhat forlornly, as Katie asked for their floor. The elevator fell silent as it scooted upwards, pinging open. Katie stepped out first, followed by Wanda then the men.

“Where do you want-“ Bucky began but he stopped dead, Sam bumping into him.

“What the hell Frosty?” he said, frowning as he followed Bucky’s eye line, his eyes growing wide. Wanda was also gazing, mouth open, and Steve immediately knew what they were looking at- the large framed photo on the wall in the living room.

Even though their home was in Brooklyn this was still very much their apartment. Katie sometimes stayed if she had a big meeting, or on occasions they would crash here when they grabbed a rare night out in Manhattan. And it was for that reason that the photos in the apartment had been updated as their lives had moved on. The wall their friends were gazing at contained two photos. The first was one taken by Katie at the hospital when Jamie was hours old, the same photo also adorned the wall in the lounge at home. It showed Steve asleep in the chair by her hospital bed, hair unkempt and he was unshaven with his baby son clutched to his chest as they both slept. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, one snapshot moment out of God knows how many, all of which the 3 people stood in front of him had missed. The second showed a younger Emmy with her then 6 month old brother, both grinning at the camera as they sat on the sofa at home.

“You….” Sam gasped as Wanda and Bucky turned to them, mouth hanging open.

Steve nodded “Yeh, err, did no one tell you?” he asked, rubbing his neck.

“No.” Bucky breathed.

“But then it never really cropped up in conversation whilst we were fighting Thanos…” Sam said, a little sarcastically and Wanda thumped his arm.

“How old…” she asked.

“Emily is 16 this year.” Katie said, looking at the photos smiling softly “We adopted her after the snap…long story.”

She looked at Steve who smiled, knowing she was allowing him the task of revealing their boys names to two of the men he was named after.

“And Jamie’s 3.” he said, looking at Bucky.

“Jamie?” Bucky asked thickly.

“Or to give him his full name James.” Steve said, nodding at Bucky who swallowed as he looked back at his best friend. “Anthony-“ then Steve turned to Sam “Samuel.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look, the pair of them floundering for words.

“Cap…” Sam swallowed, his eyes misting over “Wow, I’m so happy for you guys.” “I can’t wait to meet them.” Wanda beamed.

“You might regret saying that.” Steve chuckled “He can be a handful. Stubborn, opinionated, won’t back down- don’t even say it.” he pointed at Bucky who had opened his mouth.

“He’s awesome.” Katie said softly “They both are.”

Her eyes moved round the apartment and fell on a photo of her and Tony taken at her wedding, and suddenly she couldn’t be there anymore. Excusing herself she headed into their bedroom. She shed her boots, cat suit and made her way straight into the en-suite now feeling utterly overwhelmed, and still struggling to make head or tail of her emotions. She should have been celebrating like everyone else in the streets was doing. Their friends and trillions of other people were saved, but she couldn’t because again, just like the other day when they had grieved for Natasha, there was one person who wasn’t coming back. Her brother.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand, an attempt to sooth the pain she now felt in every inch of her body. But whilst some of it was bruising from the multiple batterings she had taken, some of it was coming from inside. The pain of losing her brother was physical, and hard. Closing her eyes she lay her head against the tiles, allowing the water to beat down on her, lost in her memories. “I got full marks on my English essay Tone!” her 10 year old self grinned up at him as he leaned against the car, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

“Get you, you little brainbox!” he ruffled her hair “That’s awesome, so awesome in fact I think we need to stop for pizza and a shit load of ice cream on the way home…sound good?” “You’re the best!” she beamed as he took her pink back-pack off her and dropped it into the trunk as she climbed into the passenger seat of his BWM.

“Oh no, you are not going out wearing that!” he said, standing up as she walked into the living room of the house.

16 year old Katie rolled her eyes “Tone its boiling hot outside, what you want me to wear? A pair of jeans and a fucking coat?” “Not that!” he scoffed, looking at the rather short denim skirt “Young lady,I can see what you had for breakfast.”

“Oh bite me Tony.” she shot back, hearing the guffaw that Rhodey gave out from the sofa before she shot out of the front door to greet her boyfriend who had just pulled up the drive.

Then she was 18, cruising along the cliff in Malibu, laughing, her hands on the steering wheel of her convertible bug, Tony in the passenger seat sipping an iced tea, the pair of them singing as loudly as they could to Drops of Jupiter- their song.

“Mr Rock and Roll over there, listen to you!” she laughed as the song finished and it changed to AC/DC Thunder.

“If you ever tell anyone about my love of Train I will kill you.” Tony looked at her over his sunglasses and she snorted, grinning.

“I’m so telling Pepper.”

“Err you know I can still pull my funding.” he glared “You can kiss goodbye to going to Oxford…” And speaking of Oxford, at 21, she was there, accepting her first class honours in English Literature and Mythology. As she smiled for the camera, she could see Tony stood up in the middle of the hall, whistling before he punched the air “That’s my girl!” he yelled “Katie Maria Stark. That’s my girl! No I won’t sit down...what did you just say?...” and he began arguing with the person behind him.

At 26 she was crying, tears of happiness as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive. He was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey Kiddo.” he said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking ass hole!” she sobbed “next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” he chuckled as she pulled back “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

A year later she was crying again, sobbing even, as Tony sat with his arms around her, gently shushing her as she sat up in her bed “How could he do that to me Tony?” she sniffed, her tears dampening her brother’s t-shirt as he rubbed her back, laying his head against hers. “I thought he loved me…but…” “He isn’t worth your tears kiddo.” he sighed “Grant cunt-face Ward doesn’t deserve them, or you. No one ever will…you got that? No one will ever be good enough for my Kiddo.”

And then she was walking up the aisle towards her future husband, her arm linked tightly around Tony’s. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“Just remember, just because I’m giving you away doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he ever hurts you.” he mumbled and she snorted, turning to look at him. “I love you to the stars and back, Katie, remember that…” Like she could ever forget. Tony hadn’t been everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, at times they’d been completely at odds with one another, siblings estranged for 2 years at one point. But she had never, not once, stopped loving the man who had brought her up as his own. Her brother and father all rolled into one.

She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the shower, the tears still not arriving. She began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She’d cried more when Natasha died. She pulled on a towel robe that was hanging behind the door and began to dry her hair, squeezing the water out of the long strands.

“I remember when you used to do that for me.” She grinned, watching Tony as he sat with Morgan between his legs on the lounger round the pool at her Brooklyn home, rubbing her wet hair ferociously with a pink beach towel, making the 3 year old cackle with laughter. I remember…but Morgan won’t.

And then the cry ripped from her chest, like someone had reached down her throat and pulled it from the very depths of her heart.

***** Steve made sure the guys were settled in the spare apartment, the three of them opting to share, none of them particularly wanting to be alone. Making his way back into theirs, he headed straight to the bedroom and heard Katie turn off the water to the shower. With a groan he stripped off the top half of his uniform, dropping the grubby item to the floor and then reached to pull off the compression shirt.

But before he got chance he heard a noise that chilled his every bone. It was a cry. A primal, raw, broken scream. Quick as flash he crossed the room and pushed open the door to the bathroom and found his wife slumped on her knees on the floor, screaming and crying uncontrollably.

“He’s gone…” she screamed “He’s gone, he’s gone…” He’d known this was coming and it broke his heart that he could do nothing to help, nothing to take away the utter desperation and pain and anger she was feeling. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and she turned to him, fisting her hands around his top as he pulled her close, one arm round her back, the other in her hair.

“Let it out…”his voice was croaky as he rocked her, gently stroking her hair as his cheek pressed against the top of her head. “I got you…I got you…” How long they stayed there for, with Katie screaming and crying over the soft sounds of his soothing, Steve had no idea, but eventually her sobs became sniffles as she regained some form of composure.

“Steve…” she managed to stutter as she pulled back to look at him” He’s gone…he’s gone…” “Oh sweetheart…” his voice cracked, his own heart ached with grief and sympathy and love as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, pulling her onto his lap as he settled on the floor, making no attempts to move her. He buried his face into her hair, his own sobs catching in his throat.

Eventually she stopped crying, and she truly thought at that time her body had run out of tears to shed. She pulled back to look up at Steve, his eyes wet as she took a ragged, deep breath.

“All my life Tony has been there…” she said gently as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, brushing away her stray tears, “Even when we were apart those years I knew that if I needed him, he would be there…but now…he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you always do.” he said gently “You get up, you dust yourself off and you act like the amazing, strong, beautiful woman you are. My wife, my baby momma.”

She gave a watery splutter of a laugh before she buried her face into his t-shirt again, and simply breathed him in. His warmth and familiar smell, even if he wasn’t as fresh as he could be after the exertion of battle, was a comfort, a balm to her broken soul. Tony was gone, she knew that, but she wasn’t on her own. She’d never be on her own as long as she had Steve.

****

“Don’t be sad Momma…” Jamie said, as Katie’s tears tickled down her cheeks, her son on her lap, Emmy sat on her father’s, despite her age meaning she was normally way past that stage, as she cried into his chest, his arms gently cradling her. “Uncle Nee isn’t on his own.” “What do you mean baby?” she asked, sniffing as he played with a strand of her hair.

He looked at her with his baby blue eyes and shrugged, as if the answer was obvious “Because he’s with Auntie Nat-Nat.”

“Yeah…” Katie said, a soft sob escaping her “You’re right. But I’m still sad, but you don’t need to be worried about that ok?” He nodded “I can kiss it better” he said, and she smiled as he leaned up connecting his lips to hers with a loud smacking noise.

“All better.” she smiled, wiping her eyes.

“When can we go home?” Emmy asked, sitting up slightly.

“Soon, I promise.” Steve said. “I think we’ll stay here for tonight, your mom and I both need a rest.”

Emmy nodded “I expect kicking alien butt for hours takes it out of you.” Steve snorted. “A little.” “You did it though.” She said softly “Everyone came back.” “Yeah, and on that note…” Katie picked up, “We have some people we’d like you to meet. That’s if you’re feeling up to it.” “Is it them? Bucky, Sam and Wanda?” Emmy asked, her wet brown eyes opening wide.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled “If it’s ok with you, we thought we could all have breakfast together…”

“Pancakes?” Jamie asked hopefully and Katie nodded, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Pancakes” she affirmed.

“Now?”

“Do you ever think about anything but this?” Katie chuckled, prodding his tummy. He pondered for a second.

“legos.” he said, nodding “I think about my legos sometime.”

Emmy snorted and Steve let out a laugh “Pancakes and legos eh son?” he reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair “Sounds like a perfect combination.”

A short while later Steve, armed with a selection of his clothes and Katie’s for the 3 adults headed down to fetch them, whilst Katie started to make breakfast. Pepper, as caring and thoughtful as ever had sent Happy back with a selection of food knowing that Manhattan was in utter chaos and going out in public was the last thing Steve or Katie wanted for fear of being mobbed. That, combined with the stash they had in the kitchen meant it was easy for Katie to whip up a batch of batter and throw some bacon in the pan.

She set Emmy to work chopping fruit, and never one to miss out, she stood Jamie on a chair in front of her and gently guided his hand as he held the whisk to stir the batter. Katie was literally grabbing the ladle to drop the first load into the pan, the door to the apartment opened and Steve’s voice carried in to the kitchen.

“Hey guys…” Jamie squealed in excitement and Katie moved so he could get down. He shot out of the kitchen, barrelling into the lounge where he skidded to a halt by his dad and gazed up at the 3 strange adults in front of him.

The first thing that hit Bucky was just how like post-serum Steve the little boy was. Stocky, bright blue eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair. But his nose, his nose was distinctly like his mother’s.

“He looks like you.” he said, nodding to Steve.

Katie stepped into the room with Emmy and smiled.

“Jamie, Emmy….this is Bucky, Sam and Wanda.” Emmy raised her hand shyly “Nice to meet you all.”

Meanwhile, Jamie simply gazed up at Bucky, his attention focussed directly on his metal arm and Bucky suddenly began to worry that it would scare him. That was until Jamie stepped forward with all his usual boldness and pointed.

“Is that metal?” “Jamie…” Steve said, his tone soft. He couldn’t scald his son for being curious, but at the same time he had seen the apprehension in Bucky’s eyes. Apprehension that had now turned to amusement.

“Yeah it is.” He said, crouching down so he was eye level with his namesake. He held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers “Wanna touch it?” Jamie reached out and placed his palm against Bucky’s prosthetic and grinned, looking up.

“Dad…that’s really cool. Can I have one?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head with a grin.

“You think that’s cool you should see my wings.” Sam said, crouching next to Bucky.

“You have wings?” Jamie’s eyes grew wide “I want…”

“No!” Katie said with a snort.

“Fine I’ll just ask Santa.” Jamie shruggged and Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I like this kid!” he grinned, standing up.

“You can have him…” Katie winked, as Bucky stood up straight and grinned “Saves me sending him to Kiddie Prison.” “Morgan told me there’s no such place.” Jamie looked at his mother, and Steve let out a sigh. The threat of Kiddie Prison was their biggest bargaining chip when he was being naughty. Especially as the naughty step wasn’t an option, because the first (and last) time they tried that they caught him climbing up the staircase and sliding down the bannister nearly giving the pair of them a heart attack.

“I told you short stuff, it does.” Emmy said, with a roll of her eyes “I lived there before mom and dad adopted me. And all they give you to eat all day is slugs and slime…” Steve shared a look with Bucky and let out a loud laugh.

“Don’t…” Bucky shook his head with a grin.

“You gave Becca nightmares for days with that story!” Steve laughed as he recalled Bucky telling his sister about a hole in the ground where bad kids went “She wouldn’t go near a manhole for months!”

“I can still feel the blow round the ears my Pa gave me…” Bucky said, reaching up to rub at the back of his head. The chatter continued as they made their way into the kitchen. Steve went to brew the coffee as Sam, Wanda and Bucky took seats round the table with the kids, chatting away. Occasionally he caught the odd snippet as Jamie told Bucky about his toys at home, Sam all about his friend at nursery, whilst Emmy was chatting to Wanda about school and what she wanted to do in the future. But all the time the soldier had one eye on his wife as she stood, silently, cooking enough pancakes to feed a small army. Which, to be fair, was probably what they would need with 2 super soldiers and a hungry 3 year old to feed. He slipped his arms around her waist.

“You ok?” he asked, before he sighed “Sorry, stupid question.”

She chuckled and shook her head “No it’s not stupid. And no, I’m not. Not really. But I will be, in time. I hope.”

Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek and winced as a loud “GET A ROOM!” sounded across the kitchen and he turned to glare at his son, Bucky and Sam exchanging gleeful looks with one another. Steve raised his hand and pointed at Emmy accusingly. “That was not me!” she said, indignantly “It was Bucky that told him to say it…” “If this is the impression you have on my kids after all of 15 minutes James Buchanan Barnes then I’m going to have to seriously consider letting you near them again.” Katie said as she dropped the plate of pancakes into the middle of the table.

“Why did you just call him James?” Jamie asked, frowning

“Because my name is James too.” Bucky answered for Katie.

“No, it’s Bucky.” Jamie frowned.

“He only gets called James when he’s been bad, bit like you pal.” Steve chuckled, placing Jamie’s plate of food in front of him “Now eat that, and then you can show Buck your lego.”

“My legos are here?” Jamie said, grinning.

“Yeah they’re in your bag.” he dropped a kiss to his son’s head.

“What the hell is a Lego?” Bucky asked. The room feel silent as all eyes turned to the man who glanced around, suddenly feeling very self conscious. “What?” ****

“I know there is much speculation surrounding the events of the last 24 hours, and it is for that reason I find myself addressing you all once more, with regards to the Decimation…only this time I am happy to greet you all with much better news. Thanks to the brave actions of the Avengers and countless others who fought in a ferocious battle Upstate, the Vanished have been returned to us in the same state in which they left. But it isn’t without cost. Unfortunately, I do bring some sad news amongst the happy, as I can confirm the rumours are true. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff both lost their lives in the mission to bring everyone back. My sincere condolences and thoughts are with the rest of the Avengers, in particular the Rogers and Stark families, and I’m sure I speak for the entire world when I say we will be forever indebted to the two fallen heroes for their brave sacrifices which ensured that friends and families across the globe could be reunited. To allow you all some time with those who have been returned to you, I’m declaring today and tomorrow a national holiday. So be with your loved ones. And now I speak to those who have been returned to us. For the past 5 years the world has become a very different place to the one you knew. Please be patient with us whilst we try to make sense of the fact you have all been returned to us and don’t be too hard on us if we seem a little, well, astounded. Thank you all, God Bless America, and God Bless the Avengers.”

President Ellis’ address rang out across the nation at 3pm that afternoon. On every TV and Radio channel there was. Rhodey had popped by to give them a heads up, and also inform Katie that they were talking about honouring both Tony and Natasha posthumously. Katie had merely shrugged, not entirely sure what Tony would have said about any of that, until Rhodey made her laugh about the last time he had received an honour, getting stabbed with the pin by the Senator awarding it to him. Senator Stern. Who had turned out to be Hydra.

That night fireworks exploded across the skies of Manhattan. The current occupants of the tower sat on the roof watching the symphony of colours and explosions as it light up the sky-line, Jamie opting to sit on Bucky’s knee instead of his father’s, because of course Bucky was now his favourite person on the planet. But Steve didn’t mind, well, not too much anyway.

The next few days passed them by in a bit of a blur. They moved back to the house in Brooklyn. Sam and Bucky came with them but, surprisingly to Steve (but not to Katie) Wanda opted to head to Clint’s after the archer called and offered her a room. Steve’s time was divided between speaking to the UN, various people in the senate and government along with Rhodey as they stared to make plans to help those people who had returned and found themselves in tricky situations. Some found their wives or husbands had re-married, others found themselves homeless as new occupants had moved into their flats post them being vacant in the past 5 years. Two of those people were Peter Parker and his Aunt May, who were now residing in the Tower until Katie could find them an apartment. And then there were the kids who had been adopted suddenly found themselves with two sets of parents, although Emmy’s foster family never came looking for her. And it was a good job, as they would have been met not only by her parents but a former deadly assassin and an ex Para Rescuer ready to kick the shit out of them having learned from Steve and Katie one evening about the girl’s past.

No, reversing the snap had swung up a whole cacophony of different problems, but for the time being Katie had no time or energy for anything other than planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper, and a service of sorts for Natasha with Clint. Natasha’s was to take place first, a small ceremony at Clint’s farm where they would be planting a red maple tree in her honour. Tony’s was slightly more tricky. The Billionaire had led a very public lifestyle and naturally (even if unfairly) was attracting the most public interest. They’d been approached by President Ellis, who had asked if they would be open to the service being shown on larger, outside Televisions across Manhattan to avoid public crowding the area. Katie had been horrified at first, until Pepper had snorted and reminded her that the Old Tony would have loved the attention and fuss. But New Tony wouldn’t. Which was why they compromised and chose to celebrate the two sides to Tony’s huge personality. For the Genius, Billionaire, Play-Boy, Philanthropist they would hold a service at St Patrick’s Cathedral and for the husband, father, brother, friend they would then hold a more intimate wake at the house. Pepper was also going to plant a tree by the lake house, where his ashes would be scattered eventually. And there was also the matter of his will to go through as well, but they decided that could wait.

It was draining, emotionally and physically, so it was no surprise that Katie was constantly tired and a little irritable, Steve feeling the harsh side of her tongue on more than one occasion. But he never bit back, he knew how she was feeling. He’d had to do it with his Ma. Instead he listened to her bounce ideas off him, helped with the organisation, and simply comforted her when she needed it.

On the 6th day post the return of the Vanished, things on the surface had returned to some kind of normal. Almost a half-way-house between what it had been like before the Snap and what they had become post the Snap. But what was noticeable to all of them was that they were persistently mobbed in the street, people wanting to thank them constantly. Jamie found the whole thing hilarious, waving to people as he walked with his Father one morning to the play-ground. Steve, however, after half an hour had returned home because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s mad.” he said with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa “I mean…”

“It’ll die down.” Katie yawned, “Just take a while.” “You still feeling crappy?” he asked, watching as Jamie sat on the rug with his trucks.

“A little.” she said

“You thrown up again?” “No” she shook her head “I don’t feel sick anymore just drained. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Probably just the stress of all the organising and stuff.”

But as she said the words something in her mind clicked.

Tiredness. Sickness. Haywire emotions.

“Shit…” she whispered, sitting bolt upright and he looked at her. “Bruce’s Snap…”

“What about it?”

“What if it brought everyone back?” “Well we know it did…” he said, not following her line of thought.

“No I mean…” she took his hand and placed it on her stomach “everyone…”

It took him a second to cotton on, and he blinked, looking into his wife’s wide eyes.

“Shit…” he stuttered.

“Language.” Jamie said, almost immediately, but both parents ignored him.

“I didn’t…” Steve swallowed “I mean, I didn’t even consider that a possibility…do you think…”

Katie took a deep breath “I dunno, I mean the first snap took it away…”

They stayed still for a moment, simply looking at each other, both thinking the same. If one snap had taken their baby, the second snap could quite as easily have brought it back.

“I think I need to go to the store.” Katie muttered. Less than an hour later husband and wife were stood in the bathroom looking down. Down at four different tests. Four different tests that all told them the same thing.

“I can’t believe it…” Steve whispered, looking at his wife as she glanced up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Me neither…” she whispered.

“I’m gonna be a daddy…again.” he reached out to Katie, his eyes shining as she gave him a smile.

“And I’m gonna be fat again.” There was a pause before Steve’s face cracked into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he hugged her close, the pair of them laughing through their tears.

“I like you fat with my kid.” he said, pulling away and wiping the tears that were trickling down her face with his thumbs. She smiled and returned the gesture, brushing the back of her hand over his wet cheeks.

“I love you. So fucking much, my baby momma.” he said softly as he dropped a kiss to her lips and she whispered into his mouth

“I love you too, my baby daddy.”

And for the first time in days, Katie’s heart felt a little less broken. Tags

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #tony stark #iron man #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Hallow ch xvi - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch xvi / ?? - In which there is a heartbreak

Emma stood next to him in the terrible nightmare that the Darkness used as punishment, his birth as the Dark One and his greatest failure all in one. Watching and scanning the sea for his brother's face, the knowledge that he died not knowing it was by the hand of his brother was worse than any death, torture, punishment, or any perverse mixture of all three he had ever received at the hand of his demented and drunken father. The Darkness always reminded him that Liam had died in pain, died confused, died in blinding violence.

He felt her hand touch his, wishing he wasn't rooted to the spot and forced to relive this. Beyond that, he wished Emma had not seen this, even if she would forget upon waking. There was no way back from knowing what he had done, and seeing her horrified reaction was more than enough confirmation of that. When the nightmare finally ended, it faded to an eerie whiteness. Everything was still, thick with silence. Emma was nowhere in sight. The only evidence of her being real were the strips of skirt wrapped around where he had been sliced open.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed, the only noise in the vast space. There was nothing else to do but walk, hoping he reached a destination. As he walked, he noticed it becoming steadily colder as snow began to fall. It crunched under his feet, blending in with the white of the expanse while he fought through it. It began to grow denser and thicker, rising up until it was up to his knees, then thigh. A long moan came from somewhere nearby, his ears picking up a few other wheezing and strained sounds of suffering as he crunched through the icy snow.

Slipping slightly, he fell forward and his hand met the icy floor he'd been walking on. At first he thought it was an icicle or branch, freezing cold, and his fingers traced up the limb to where it tapered into a hand and grasping fingers. He pulled back and there was a snapping sound, the face of a naval gunner he had shared beer with rising to meet his. Except Private Scott was not the ginger haired and freckled just turned man he remembered. Instead, he was gray blue, his eyes long since gone and only stringy bits of matted hair stuck to his head. His face was beset in wrinkles as he groaned and clawed at Killian, his jaw snapping with its few teeth.

Killian flung him back, but the snow was breaking apart, ice cracking to give way to water below. Ships, his brothers at arms, and wreckage broke through and began to rise up around him, his instincts kicking in with full force. He ran, avoiding the shambling creatures as they reached for him, maneuvering as best he could until he came to a steep shelf of ice. The corpses of his fellow seamen made easy work of trampling through the snow toward him, and it would be only minutes until hundreds of them were on top of him, seeking their pound of flesh.

Digging his heels into the wall of ice, he found footholds and swung up, managing to grab a strong ledge to pull himself up a few feet, away from the beginning crowd that reached for him. Not willing to test if they could climb, he pulled himself up higher still, his hands struggling to find purchase the further up he went. He was maybe 4 meters above the growing crowd now, the crest another 3 or so above him. Taking the chance, he looked down. The wraiths were no longer looking at him, but staring at a fast approaching figure that was surrounded by an approaching blizzard. They parted as he came near, the sword in his half bone hand immediately making him colder than any frostbite.

Liam's half rotted face, with one angry blue eye focused on his perch roared the question he dreaded most.

"Why, Killian?!"

Killian began to scramble, hands searching for even the smallest bit of a crevice to pull up with, his feet kicking in the ice to create any foothold. He heard a sword connect to the ice below, and watched Liam gain a fast lead with his bone and steel. The men below began echoing Liam's cries of why, and Killian felt water freeze to his cheeks as fear of the situation over took his senses. Taking a breath, he tried to settle himself.

Emma was in danger, and she was more important than letting himself die here, or fall prey to this terrible nightmare. He had to go. With great effort, he jumped and prayed for his hand to meet something, anything to hold on to.

His fingers curled around a small raised edge, and he swung himself up, the next hold easy to grip. The top was in sight and he was almost there.

A bony hand gripped his ankle. He looked down to see Liam's angry and disappointed face, his brother broken to the point of falling apart in front of him like wetted plaster.

"Why brother? Why!?" Liam rasped, and Killian closed his eyes as he prepared himself.

"I'm sorry, Liam." Killian kicked hard, the blizzard below swallowing his brother and all the many phantoms that had appeared.

He reached the top, gazing out ahead. The snow was deeper still up here, but there was no noise, only the stillness from before. The wind blew in earnest, sending snow sideways as it began to fall faster. It became harder to walk, and even more disgusting was the realization that the icy floor of corpses had made his previous journey easier. With no purchase, he sunk into random pockets, sometimes as deep as his shoulders.

He heard a tiny whimper when he was sure he would freeze.

"Emma?" Killian prayed it was not another bout of the dead.

The noise came again, louder. It sounded as if it was right beneath him and he began to dig numbly, pushing down to touch a smooth surface. Clearing it of more snow, he revealed a mirror's rounded corner. The surface was dark as he pushed snow to the side frantically, hearing the muffled sobbing clearer as he pushed.

A faint glow emitted from what seemed to be the middle, and he saw Emma's bound form, while Nil -

The nightmare she had begged to be saved from was worse than anything he had imagined, fury racing through him. Killian threw his fists down on the surface of the mirror, standing to drop himself as the glass cracked. Her noises through the gag were like daggers as he pushed at the surface, her whimpers while her arm muscles flexed in struggle making him desperate to reach her. The Nil her nightmare created stroked long fingers up her neck as she screamed, Killian roaring as he smashed harder with his shoulder. Emma stared away from where the creature pawed at her, unaware of Killian, unaware that he was trying to get to her. She had been so scared, and now he understood why she could not sleep, why she had woken up in screams. The ripping sound of her nightgown made him more frantic. He could hear her breathing through her nose, words and cries warble by the cloth bind she chewed at, the chains rattling.

Nil yelled something, pointing from the shadows to Emma. The Dagger glinted in his hand and Killian saw himself, shrouded in thick black smoke put a hand over her mouth. Emma cried in panic, Nil's voice unclear through the shattering of glass. The Dark One below looked up with a grin, holding her leg down as well. Emma looked up at the Dark One, pleading, but he only laughed. Shreds of her nightgown fell to the floor, Nil trailing fingers down her body as she tried to squirm away.

Nil bent, long tongue out and glistening, just as Killian crashed through to land in the bed. Noise erupted everywhere, Nil yelling as Killian scrambled to free her, ripping away bindings at her wrists and pulling the gag from Emma's mouth. Nil fiddled with something heavy, lifting it in Killian’s peripheral, unable to see what it was clearly as he struggled with the binds. They seemed to tighten and move on their own like snakes resisting his handiwork.

"Look out!" she screeched, and he rolled as a thick bolt wedged itself into the headboard between them. Nil cursed, Killian noting the triggered crossbow he was using as he scrambled to unshackle Emma’s legs, each chained to one side of the bed. Emma sat up and immediately struggled with the other leg, trying to fight off the Dark One's attempts to subdue her. Wielding the weapon, Nil pointed it at Killian.

"Don't touch my play things, especially this one. I'll let you have a turn once I'm bored," Nil hissed, grinning his sharp toothed grin.

The click came, the bolt hitting flesh with a wet thunk. The Dark One howled, Emma's kick to push him into the path of the bolt sparing Killian as he freed her foot. She panted in exertion from the kick, Killian pulling her through a doorway. Locking the door behind them, Killian barricaded it with tables as Emma slid to the floor with her knees brought up to her chest. The pounding on the door went quiet, the blue dim of early morning light flooding through the decorated windows revealing dust motes as their only company. Pushing a huge cake table in front of the door, he blinked.

"We're in -"

"Yeah. The Arendelle's bakery," Emma mumbled, finishing his sentence for him. "This is my other nightmare. I have - there's a few, now."

She shivered, and Killian became aware that she was nude once again. He looked around for something to cover her with. His shirt was in tatters and wet, as were his trousers, they were a complete loss to her at this point. He looked toward the stairs and debated if he should risk Anna or Elsa's room. Emma seemed to sense his thinking.

"Please don't leave me. If we separate, I might have to… I could get sent back to that place, to him, and I can't Killian."

Sitting next to her and gathering her tightly in his arms he nodded. "I don't blame you. I'm sorry - I wish I had known and could have done something for you besides making you feel safer."

"I've always woken up before he - " she began, starting to shake. She looked fragile, more than breakable, the color gone from her skin. Bruises bloomed in earnest, and she bled from several lacerations that had smeared to dry like rust on her skin, either by her hand or… His blood began to boil.

"Did he - in this place did he -"

"Further than my nightmares, but not… Not that," Emma whispered.

"I -" Killian swallowed thickly. "I wish I knew what to say, or how much I… I'm so sorry. I tried to get to you -"

"I had no doubt that you were trying to find me. It's not your fault it wasn't fast enough," Emma whimpered. Killian stood, grabbing a tablecloth from the cake table. Finding the center of it and ripping, he placed it over her head like a cloak.

"It won't do for a societal debut, but we're past that, yeah?" he murmured, smoothing her hair and wiping away tears. "Can you tell me about this so we -"

"It's about my failure. I failed Elsa, and how I fear I will fail my family." Emma sniffed, pulling the fabric snugly around her body. "A group of neverending Goblins kills Elsa in front of me, and I can't - I just have to watch, no matter how many I dispatch. I have to choose who is going to live, who I heal first, but they all die; something fails or worse . It cycles through my family and I…"

"Oh, love. I - Emma, I'm so sorry sweet - "

"I want to give up so badly, instead of seeing this. I would have if not for you being here." Emma leaned against him, taking a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can take much more of this."

"You could, because you have yet to fail against any challenge I've seen you face - but it's no reason to press your luck." He smiled wanly but she did not return it.

Elsa's scream echoed in the bakery, glasses shattering in displays and windows. Helping Emma stand shakily, they walked together toward its origin. Just as she said, Elsa cowered as a Goblin readied his sword to plunge down into her chest. Killian tried to move but his feet planted him firmly to the spot rendering him unable to help. Emma moved instinctively, but was too late as she and Killian watched the sword push through Elsa, jutting out of the wound that lay below the blue of her dress. His voice thundered in the skies, calling Emma useless as she tried in vain to staunch blood. Her family joined the fray and soon Emma was forced to leave a still gasping Elsa to try and help another, forced to choose who would possibly die and possibly survive based on screams alone.

Finding his voice, he yelled at Emma to come back.

"It's a nightmare," He reminded her as gently as he could manage with the noise around them. "I know that it's horrible to watch, but help me find us a way out."

Emma nodded, leaving a woman that reached out to her in pain with a grimace. As she ran toward him, a blur of blue pounced on her. The movement was impossibly fast, a spider on its kill, giving neither Killian or her time to react. Elsa grabbed Emma, white braid going to black in places, while a red pendant appeared around her neck.

"I WON'T LET YOU, I WON'T, I WON'T, I WON'T!" Cruella shrieked as she began to drain Emma again. Killian raced toward them, Cruella giggling as Emma's makeshift dress changed into an ivory velvet one. Her red nails dug into Emma's skin, as Cruella was held back, Emma's arms buckling by the second. A glass coffin rose around her as they fought, Cruella thrown off of her by a kick squarely planted against her chest. Emma fell backwards in the velvet lining as her chest bled through the ivory gown, his feet too slow while this memory resurfaced, the players changed.

Instead of the would be Queen Snow in her cursed slumber, Emma struggled in the coffin as green smoke grew around her. She shook her head as it bared down, until her breath rushed out despite her attempts and she drew in the plume through her lips. It seemed to flood into her as Cruella began her cackle, rising to push it into her as Emma's back arched. Her chest filled with it, and she went into a stillness that echoed her mother's, a scene that played out so long ago. Where Cruella loomed, the Goblin King had stood to strike the would-be queen, Snow Margueryte, dead. He had watched David N'lan, Prince of the Forests of Fae, come to her aid from behind the shocked Goblin's back as the Dark One. It was where he had felt the shattering of the Vorpal Dagger, where True Love’s magic had blinded him with its sheer power, and where it had almost destroyed the Darkness as it shrieked in his ears.

Emma's chest did not rise as Cruella grinned wide, her hand raised high with those sharp talon-like nails glinting as she readied them to strike. Even with a few missing, they looked vicious, razor like. He ran, ran as he had seen the King do in the past, and with what he hoped was the same determination.

Emma wasn't breathing. He had to save her. He'd do anything, anything to save her, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she would do the same and he felt his breath catch at the thought of her not opening her eyes -

Light flooded through him when his lips touched Emma's, her gasped breath parting them and causing a great exhale. Cruella shrieked, shielding her eyes as she seemed to burn away, leaving in her place only a tendril of green smoke over a pile of black gunk.

It reminded him of the Darkness as it hung on just barely under the same brightness, digging itself in but leaving its vessel stunned and leaving its powers wrecked. When Killian woken long after the marriage of the new rulers, it was to a cave cell filled sparsely with items, a sentence to be carried out until the world ceased turning. The Darkness had begun its careful planting of seeds once more, forced to drive out every part of the man that might return in its now weakened state. It broke him, belittled him, bent him as the seasons changed. Centuries passed. It was a tortured existence, falling into madness instead of sleep or rest, only being forced to relive the worst of his emotions. He lost all hope in that cell.

He knew this nightmare ended differently, now.

A princess had made her way down the carved stone steps, and given him a chance at something greater than the nightmare could ever be. She gave him the chance to find himself again in this dream world, and to save her life. It would never be enough, and he would save her life as many times as he could.

"I knew you felt the same," Emma whispered, his forehead lowering to rest against her own. "I don't need your words. Even if I don't remember, even if I forget all of this… Part of me will always know that our love could be true."

"I wish that I could give you this." He stroked her cheek. "You deserve this."

"So do you, Killian. More than anyone, so do you." Emma kissed him chastely, his hand finding hers to carefully lift her from the coffin. A movement caught his eye, and he pushed her behind him.

The strange viscous black slime Cruella left behind lurched, growing larger as it gained mass rapidly, forming itself as an entity that swirled in wet blobs to fill itself. The giant creature took on a lumpy shape, arms and legs sticking out in strange places as it moved. A husk mask appeared on its face, a mouth opening in a grin that showed its mismatched teeth. Lilly's description of the creature Cruella had brought to life was apt. The hungry ghosts happily took the place of his Darkness, boiling themselves into the original shape it had once worn, his last nightmarish fear realized. It would come for him, own him once more - and he had to let it.

The Darkness roared in the voice of the ghosts, its bubbling body devouring the land like molten lava. Claw like hands dug into earth as it pulled itself forward.

Emma tried to hold him back from retaking it. "Don't go. We can fight it. It isn't even your Darkness, it is that thing, that starved thing! Please, we'll figure out some way for us to -"

"I have to. If this is a nightmare, my nightmare , let me keep you from it."

"But - Killian, I -" The hillside cracked, Emma barely moving in time as the cliff fell into the sea, both of them running towards the sand of the seashore. The Darkness howled, right on their heels as Emma was thrown to the sand and he was lifted by needle sharp fingers. He could hear Emma screaming, but couldn't see her face, the Darkness filled his vision as it tossed him into the roiling mass.

Hateful eyes surveyed him while deft hands stained black pulled him apart to press the cracks with themselves, the Dark Ones from all times and all places wrapping around him, the beaten and abused spirits that hungered for anything to fill themselves with, breaking bones to knit them back together with their damned souls, and he was gone, pushed deep below in dark waters. Murk and brackish waves above let no light in, the water forcing itself into him, Darkness everywhere, mocking him as it flexed his fingers.

"No, no, no." His voice and not, duality that made him sound amused as he laughed and stalked towards Emma. She scooted back on wet sand, but his hands flicked in a come hither gesture, dragging her towards him. "No," it cooed in his voice. "My hands. Our hands. Our magic - do you see worm, what we could do if only we were free?"

I don't want this, I don't want any of your reckoning -

"Yes you do. Let's see. I know, let's sweep your lady love off her feet, shall we?" Another flick of his wrist and Emma was in the air, struggling and gasping.

Stop, stop it, leave her alone!

"Does she hold your heart? Is that why you are so attached to her?" the Darkness asked, curiosity laced in its voice.

I -

"Rhetorical question you simpleton, The Dark One doesn't have a heart. So, why don't we hold hers?" Emma was before him in a moment, toes dragging against the sand as she struggled with the grip on her neck. "I hope you don't mind, darling, but I am not taking the rings off. So much for being gentle."

There was no time to process, his hand plunging through her skin, right into her chest, her body trembling as her struggling stopped at once. Emma's eyes were so wide, her mouth parted in a gasp of pain as his fingers closed around her heart. It thumped wildly in his grip as he tugged, the whimper that she made like a poker through his own.

Please stop, please, please don't hurt her.

"Oh, but don't you want to hurt her?" The Darkness pulled her heart from her chest with a grin, Emma crying out and falling to her knees. The heart, her heart, was warm in his palm, now beating wildly as she searched his face. A tentative squeeze made her lurch forward, one hand plastered against her chest.

Emma choked out his name, and revulsion filled him. He couldn't speak or form words for fear of what it would do as it tutted at his reaction.

"Oh, you weak little man. You know this feels good. It feels right, you have so much power in your grasp! We control her!" the Darkness hissed in triumph.

"You don't control me," Emma rasped. "You barely control Killian. You're a parasite."

Emma's defiance had him screaming, pulling against the Darkness with no success, its power too much as he yelled with only it as an audience.

Don't hurt her, hurt me, do what you want to me, but please don't hurt Emma. Please not Emma, stop, please -

The movement was quick, but her reaction was slow. The Darkness squeezed her heart in one sharp jerk, the red glow brightening before his fingers curled around and it was dim.

"We'll see about that, won't we?"

I beg you, please, please don't -

His hand resisted for the briefest moment, but the Darkness fought his control with a vengeance. His influence fell away, the Darkness gleefully squeezing without pause. There was a pop, just a tiny noise of pressure. Emma's mouth moved but if she spoke he couldn't hear, couldn't hear last words if she had any because of the cackle of this thing inside him that took and took - Dust fell through his fingers, laughter that was not his own filling the space as Emma crumpled.

Killian screamed without stop, in control again as he crawled to her side. Emma looked peaceful, so peaceful, as if she was only resting next to him like so many times before. She wasn't dead, couldn't be gone, no - it was too much. Rage filled him, followed by a flush of shame and self hatred that the Darkness multiplied. This was his fault. He was weak, he fell for the pitfall of caring about someone. Every time he cared for someone they ended up hurt, and in his selfishness, he had forgotten.

The Darkness was him, his veins coated with its power. They were the same, the same fury and the same hatred that lashed out at others. How had he forgotten? There was nothing left of him from before, not even a scrap. This dream turned nightmare was never to be, impossible in their reality.

Nobody could care for the Darkness, and the Darkness did not, could not, care for another without consequences. What use was this memory, any of their memories, the moments of tranquility where they were together, when the ending would always be a reminder of his fate.

"That's right, that's right you insolent and dreaming imbecile. You thought you could be happy, that you could escape me even in dreams? You signed up for this. You know how wonderful it is to be free, to take, to plunder. You know our rightful place is wherever we can destroy the most light."

Yes. I know. I only destroy, I only bring despair.

"Good, good. We only bring desecration . We crush everything in our path and snuff out anything that dares defy us. Even your princess."

She was never mine.

The dagger was warm in his palm and warmer still pushed roughly into his chest. It should not be able to hurt him in his own hands, but here in this nightmare it let him extricate both himself and this power. It showed him its dreams, of screams and chaos and fire and smoke. Emma was never there, no, he was alone with his madness as it should be. Their connection further sealed, no longer Killian or the Darkness, the Dark One faded into the waking world.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Your boyfriend has quite the nightmare, princess," Isaac drawled, nodding as Emma stood up from where she was left and began dusting herself off. Killian had thought her dead, but just as before, she was unable to escape from her prison by death at the hands of another.

When she didn't reply, he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I still don't know how you both figured it out so fast, and destroyed it even faster. This was a paradise for you two. You could have gotten lost, had thousands of happy endings, of growing old, having children, getting married. It could have been great, perfect even -"

"Isaac, you don't get it, do you?" Emma motioned to where Killian had crumpled moments before, a sad smile gracing her features. "I know that he is real. Not everything can be perfect, can be sunshine and smiling and rainbows. That isn't love. Love is seeing the best in someone despite the worst, and love is holding them to be better. It's not you changing them, it's holding the person accountable for their own actions. It’s letting them grow into something better than what they were before. Only they can change, and only if they want to."

"But these were your dreams, they were your wishes, both of you! Why would you pass up living out your fantasies?"

"Besides you siphoning off my magic and making me an amnesiac husk?"

Isaac shrugged. "Fair."

"As much as I… As much as we wish things were different, or dream that we met under different circumstances, it does not change our reality. I want that reality, I want the mess, and the broken pieces, and the hurt. It's real, and it's imperfect, and the imperfection of it makes it so much more. Both of us have walls, have fears so great that the deepest ocean couldn't contain them. We both are forced to be something, we both have to choose, and I can see now how much it must hurt him. This wish to be who he was before? You can't go back to before, you can only go forward. I want to go forward knowing that he's fighting for us, fighting for himself, through what feels like impossible odds. I have faith in him, and I know that he has the strength to win against that monster."

Isaac shook his head. "It doesn't matter in the end. You're free. As long as you wake yourself up calmly, this dream finally ends." With a final impish shrug he disappeared, waiting for her to wake.

Emma walked towards where Killian had fallen, his hand still clutching the dust of her heart.

"You absolutely ridiculous fool. You got me through this, losing yourself so I could make it out of here." Tears came unbidden as she propped him up gently. "How many times did you try and save me at the expense of your own soul? I promise, I swear, I will always try to find you underneath all of the Darkness. I choose to see the real you, the good, even if I don't remember. I will always find you, Killian. Don't give up just yet. There's not a day that will go by where I won't think of you, won't try to remember who you are. "

Emma pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, then stood to dry her tears. The tide had slowly risen and now lapped at Killian’s boots, the hem of her gown wet. Lilly appeared to her right, and Emma regarded her with a nod.

"You don't have to do this Emma. I was - you don't have to -"

"Lilly, I am choosing to see the best in you too." Emma plucked a stone from the shore, its smooth face cold from the water. Taking a deep breath, Emma pressed everything she had into the rock, pouring out her magic to weave it into the spell they had created to break the barrier. Giving up the remainder made her feel weak and empty, but anything to protect it from Cruella was worth it. It glowed fiercely, warm in her hands. When she could give no more, she pressed the rock into Lilly's palm. "Do what is right."

Lilly stared down at her feet, the tide now brushing their ankles. Killian’s body was gone, the impression in the sand almost completely devoured by the waves.

"I'm so sorry, Emma. I should have never, I mean -"

"You did what you had to do to protect your family. Your people." Emma took a dizzy step forward, and then another. "I don't begrudge you. Now you have the chance to do something good, to expose Cruella and her lies. Don't waste it."

"What will happen to the husks, and the Hungry Ghosts?"

Emma stopped, looking out over the water. "I don't know," she admitted, letting her shoulders drop. "I want to hope for the best, that some will return once Cruella is taken care of and the barrier is gone, but I honestly don't know."

Lilly nodded, and was gone.

Emma kept the slow, steady pace as she walked further into the cool depths, sighing as the water began to hold her weight. Her body felt exhausted, so weak and tired to the bone. There would be no swimming, there was barely a shuffle of her feet. She could no longer see where Killian had lain, and soon could barely see the waves as they hit her face. Her feet no longer scraped the sand, but she pressed on, letting the water take her under like an old friend's embrace. There was nothing more to fear, no more nightmares to face. They had won. She should be happy, she shouldn't feel like she was losing a part of herself against her will.

The ocean was blue, giving comfort by way of reminding her again who she was losing.

Light greeted her, the form of a door rising from shimmering fog, a gentle knocking coming from the other side in a pattern. Three long wraps, and four consecutive short bursts of quick knocks, something she hadn't heard since childhood in the palace when they played on their secret missions -

"Henry?" she asked, pulling open the door. On the other side, Henry greeted her in the form she had known him in the longest, the small boy with eyes far older and wiser than they should be.

"Are you Emma, Princess of pranks on poor, unsuspecting, dignitaries?" he asked cheekily, and she swept him into a hug. "Okay, please, okay - this is really weird when I can only see your energy. Please stop."

Emma set him down, and then confusion set in quickly.

"How are you here in the dreamscape? Are you part of a nightmare? Where is Killian, is he -"

"Whoa. Whoa. Time out." Henry moved his hands in the form of a large 'T'. "I have no idea where here is, I just assumed you were dreaming, so no, and no. Regina helped me escape the palace with Jacinda. We came to help you if we can. As for Killian, I have no idea of the Dark One's location, is he pursuing you? Are you safe?"

"I'm safe, well, I will be. Is everyone alright at the palace? I think I might have talked to my mom, but I don't know if anyone else is okay, and it's driving me mad. It's been… It'll be closer to a year -"

"Time is screwed up without us elementals, holy… No, there only a fortnight has passed. Almost a year? Frigg this is going to take forever to clean up." He ran his hand through his hair, in a decidedly stressed out adult gesture. "Last time I saw your mom was a week ago in this realm's time, when we escaped. As of then, everyone at the palace was doing the best they could. We were all confident of your success."

Emma winced. "I wouldn't say success. It's been… It's been difficult. Killian and I have rallied a few to our side, but they are currently cleaning up more damage from our visits than being in a position to help…"

"Oh Emma, I wish you had a better companion who could actually help you navigate through the proper decorum -"

"Oh, no, you misunderstand. Killian is amazing at that, most of the courtly attitudes are completely different now than before. I mean, I am on Selune Island under a sleeping curse currently, because a Kitsune has been stealing magic from her people for herself to escape the wards."

There was a long pause, Henry simply staring at her and chewing his tongue as if it might bleed words.

"Well then."

"It's been… Yeah." Emma laughed. "Let me say that my mother's way of doing things has had more consequences than none. Killian has helped to show that I will not follow in her footsteps. He helped me make a ward spell that will keep the island safe while allowing the denizens freedom to leave under the guise of inclement weather. It's genius, he's brilliant actually - "

"Oh my Gods, Henry," a woman's voice said in a tone of disbelief. "She's in love with the Dark One?"

Henry visibly stiffened, his eyes shutting as he grimaced. "Jacinda," he hissed out, "You should not eavesdrop -"

Emma sighed. "She's right. It was an accident, and I beg of you to help me now that you're here. I'm going to wake up soon, and when I do, I won't remember any of this. I fell in love with the man surviving with the Darkness and I believe he is there, we just have to get that thing in control. I don't want to forget, I can't lose him again."

"Again? What happened under this sleeping curse -" Henry began, but Emma continued.

"When he wasn't in the dreams I had, or they took him from me and hurt him, I felt like I couldn't breathe. It made me feel like my chest was cracked open, my heart actually breaking. That was in dreams, I can't imagine that pain in reality. I walked into the sea to get away from the nightmare of losing him, I don't want to wake up to another. Please Henry. I beg of you."

Henry shifted uncomfortably, and in a blink was a man standing in front of her. "Oh, Emma. I am so sorry. I don't know if I can -"

"I can." The raven curled beauty appeared next to him, very heavily pregnant, kissing his cheek. "Regina helped get us free, and my magic came roaring back. I could use a challenge to make sure it still works, and as you can see, Astral projection and dream magic is my forté. Much less boring than time magic, too."

Henry grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Jacinda, you outdo yourself. Let me help anyway I can."

There was a bright flash that left Emma stumbling with her eyesight stolen, and after a few moments Henry's voice sounded above her.

"Jacinda says - She says you should remember now, but it will take a bit of time," Henry paused, and made a small clucking noise of concern. "Actually more time than that -"

Jacinda's voice covered Henry's murmurs, full of worry.

"Emma what did you do?"

"Jacinda says that you are weaker than you should be - "

Jacinda interrupted, voice frightened. "Far weaker is an understatement. Something is growing in you, I've never seen anything like it before. It's as if it's made of a dark hatred."

"What does that mean?" Emma asked, her blood running cold.

"Listen, stay calm. We will find you. Get to Agrabah, it's accessible from there through a portal in the sea. Hurry, by then you'll be pushing it, deteriorating quickly most likely. Gods, Henry, she won't remember this until it's too late -"

"Emma." Henry's voice was serious, but reassuring. "Some type of creature, a vampire, lich, or other magic eating beast has been drinking from you heavily and has left you poisoned with some foul parasite. It's larval right now but it's going to get worse as it steals your breath and slows your heart. We can't hold this much longer, but get to Agrabah. Don't waste any magic, and try to remember to stay calm. We will find you."

"Cruella. She's the one who cursed me, she's a Kitsune. Henry what do I do - if I don't remember, how will I know?" Emma asked, panicking.

"I hope you are right, and that there's a man underneath that Darkness. You're going to need someone's love and attention to keep you alive until we can get to you," Henry said grimly.

"He does, I'm confident that he will be able to fight for me. I promise, I'll see you both again -"

"Of everything, remember this: You must get to Agrabah, you will remember, and the Dark One holds your fate."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Emma blinked awake, air rushing into her lungs. Everything was too bright, her limbs too stiff, voices too loud as she tried to focus on two that seemed important. The first was growing weaker, a steady whisper that she could barely hear. It glinted like a lost treasure as she turned it over in her mind's eye.

Get to Agrabah. You will remember. The Dark One -

The other voice she held in focus drowned out the end, his raspy words and calloused hand on her cheek grounding her in reality. He shook her slightly and she groaned out a noise through her parched throat.

"Emma, princess, are you awake, please wake up -"

"Killian." Her mouth was dry, tongue like sandpaper. "Please stop that immediately."

He laughed, hugging her tightly, and the other voice fell from her lips in a whisper. The words were not the same, but she thought she might be close.

"Get to Agrabah. Remember the Dark One."

"Hm?" Killian asked, pulling away.

Emma held her pounding head in her hands, finally looking up at him when she had taken a deep breath.

"We have to get to a place called Agrabah."

#Hallow #CSSNS #CSSNS 2019 #Captain Swan #Courtorderedcake #CS AU #Captain Swan AU #I hate parts of this chapter #They were a bitch to write #but I love parts of this chapter #it has some of my oldest writing for this story #So good #CS FF #CS AU FF #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanart

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