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gumnut-logic · 1 year

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Along the way (Part One)

Sweetapple | Dear Mr Tracy | Along the way - Part 1

Okay, I had all the plans and research done to write some more Kermadec fic, but I received so many kind words regarding Alexander Sweetapple today, that I cracked and started writing Fic Three of his story (which was planned in the middle of Fic Two). And considering today, I was happy to write ANYTHING.

Thank you so much for everyone’s support regarding Alex. I am totally stunned how many people have said so many positive things about my bumbling, starry-eyed fanboy engineer. ::hugs you all so tight::

This fic is all your fault, but particularly the wonderful @onereyofstarlight who continues to support me in my forays into Aotearoa in multiple ways. I may be a fan of her and that country :D And also to @flyboytracy who started all this with their ask. I hope noone is regretting that :D

Warnings: this fic is likely to meander into m/m, if not entirely, it is at least discussed, so if that is not your thing, turn back now ::hugs::

This bit is full of brotherly ribbing and fatherly musings.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

“So, you and Alex?”

“Me and Alex, what?”

Virgil continued to roll up the long electrical cable that had served to connect Thunderbird Two’s generator systems to the ski lift’s safety mechanisms

Since the ski lift was now mostly in a ravine, thankfully minus the three families Virgil and Gordon had snatched from it, it was no longer needed.

Cold wind blew up the escarpment and despite the insulation of his uniform, Virgil shivered.

Gordon, as usual, was a spot of warmth off to his right stowing Virgil’s toolkit. Hopefully in order.

“Well, you guys do seem to have hit it off.”

Virgil concentrated fully on his task using far more neurons than necessary. “In what way?”

“You know…when boy meets boy…”

“Your point?”

“Hey, I’m just happy to see you happy.”

Virgil grunted. “Alexander Sweetapple is an employee of Tracy Industries.”

“So?”

He straightened and cracked his back. “Gords, Alex is a friend. A good friend. Nothing more.”

Gordon stopped what he was doing and stared at his brother. You do know that Alex is gay, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Make a move.”

“Why?”

Gordon groaned and flopped dramatically over the stowed toolbox. “Oh, I don’t know.” He waved a hand towards the aether. “Because he’s smart? Because he wants to save the world just like you do? Because he has a crush on you big enough to sink the Titanic? Because he makes you smile?” Gordon sighed. “Pick one.”

Virgil turned away. “I will not take advantage of an employee.”

“Oh god.” Gordon ran his hand through his hair, only to have the wind mess it up a second later. “You have the love life of a monk, Virg. He’s a nice guy, ask him out.”

Virgil didn’t answer, his eyes still focussed on the yellow cable that he was rolling up. Alex was a nice guy, in every sense. He did make Virgil smile. He had lost count of how many times in the last six months the man had dropped something in front of him in surprise. Virgil had become an expert at the quick catch. But beyond that, they definitely clicked in the lab. The man was an inspiration, his mind capturing a situation and finding the most original solutions, fast and intuitively.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Virg, he makes you happy. Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

“We’re friends.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Gordon opened his mouth to say more, but then closed it. There was something in his eyes as he looked at Virgil.

A squeeze of his shoulder and Gordon was hugging him. “Whatever works, bro.”

Then Gordon was off, packing up the pod he had deployed earlier, leaving Virgil to stare at the long line of yellow cord still winding up on its spool.

Whatever works.

-o-o-o-

Jeff strode into Thunderbird Two’s hangar as the great machine glided to a stop atop its massive turntable and began its slow spin.

As ever, he was impressed with his sons’ capabilities in the huge vehicles. Scott wore One like a second skin, even more closely than Jeff had ever adopted a machine. That was definitely a case of the son exceeding the father.

With Virgil it was similar, but different. Where Scott was part of his machine, Virgil used Thunderbird Two as gracefully as he used any tool. Elegant, strong and ever reminding him of his beloved Lucille.

Paintbrush, technical equation, even the family car - they had all been tools and a means to an end for his wife. She created what she needed out of the tools around her.

As did her son.

He shook himself and tapped his cane on the concrete beneath his feet.

Focus.

He had a tendency to drift back into his mind and visualise what he wanted to see. Long term habit to add colour to a monochrome world.

Thunderbird Two’s engines whined slowly down to silence, heat dissipating in a haze into the venting systems of the hangar. He could almost count the time required for post-flight. With Gordon on board, there would be professionalism laced with the occasional ribbing.

He smiled to himself. His little fish had grown into an amazing young man. Jeff’s heart hurt at the thought of the challenges Gordon had had to tackle in his relatively short life, but his spark had not been dimmed. Watching him with Virgil, stirring his quieter older brother, provoking smiles and commentary.

His sons were so tightly knit together.

The germ of selfishness deep in his soul worried how he was ever going to fit back into his family puzzle. But he had been welcomed home, wrapped in his boys and, honestly? He could not believe his luck.

Two’s forward hatch lowered with his two boys bickering about something. Looked like Gordon had a bee in his bonnet and wanted to make honey with his big brother - who was refusing adamantly.

“Gordon, I’m not going to give him one of your pet fish.”

“Why not? Could be an ice breaker.”

“There’s no ice!”

The two men strode towards Jeff, both intent on the other. Virgil’s glare was nuclear.

Yeah, definitely stirring his older brother.

“Boys?”

They both startled, almost shooting to attention as they realised his presence.

Gordon recovered first “Uh, hi, Dad.” He waved a hand in his father’s direction. “Hey, maybe you can convince Virg.”

Uh, oh.

“Gordon!” Virgil’s voice echoed around the cavern.

“Hey, I’m not the only one worried about your love life.”

“What?” Virgil’s eyes darted between Gordon and Jeff. “This is not up for discussion.”

Jeff frowned. Sounded like this was going a little far…

“I’m taking a shower.” Virgil eyed his father and waved an apologetic hand in his direction before stalking off towards the locker rooms.

Jeff stared after him for a solid moment, aware of the frustration bouncing on his feet beside him.

“What did you do, Gordon?”

“Nothing! I just suggested he ask Alex out.”

“Alex?”

“You know the engineer Virg has been ‘seeing’ at Māhia.”

“I thought they were just friends.”

“They are.” Gordon bit his lip and looked briefly off into the distance after his brother. “I don’t know, Dad. Scott, Virg and John, they don’t have anyone, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want them to be happy.”

Jeff stared at Gordon. He had been surprised when he and Penelope were revealed to be a couple. But he had been even more surprised to find that none of his eldest sons had formed attachments, much less gifted him grandkids.

It was understandable considering their careers over the last eight years. Living on an isolated island didn’t help and, in John’s case, space wasn’t providing much in that direction either.

And yes, Jeff had no doubt that it was his fault. It had been him who put his boys on their current path, after all.

But at the time it had seemed the right thing to do. Scott had lost everything; he needed a goal. And Lucy, dear Lucy, there had been so many other mothers and sons and daughters and fathers out there who needed help.

He still remembered the fire lighting up in Scott’s eyes.

And the fear in Virgil’s.

Yes, it was his fault.

He cleared his throat. “Do you think Alex is interested?”

Gordon stared at him as if he had a third eye. “Have you seen how the guy falls all over Virg?”

Honestly, Jeff had thought the man had a nervous condition.

But it appeared Gordon didn’t need an answer, starting out on a rant that had obviously been building for some time.

“He has stars in his eyes for Virgil, Dad. Which isn’t unusual, I admit. But what is usual is that Virgil is clueless. Alex is a great guy. He’s smart and the two of them get on like a house on fire. You should see them together! Heads down, butts up, working the engineering stuff. I might as well not be there. In fact, I’ve left the room in the past and come back hours later and they haven’t noticed.” Gordon dropped his hands pleading at his father. “Do you know how often Virg has been to Māhia lately?”

Jeff blinked. “I haven’t been keeping count. Your brother’s business is his business.”

Gordon groaned. “Dad, twice last week I launched Two and had to pick him up on the way.”

A frown. “If you think your brother’s activities are impacting on International Rescue-“

“No, no, no, no, no! Dad, the guy needs a life, I get it. I want him to have one. One beyond what little camaraderie he can find online, beyond family, beyond International Rescue. It is great to see him having fun. But he should take the next step. He needs the next step!”

Jeff opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off in mid thought by another son.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

The reflex was automatic. Not a word was said. Gordon hurried ahead while Jeff made his slower way across the concrete floor to the elevator.

Entering the lounge, the scene was as he expected. Four sons staring somewhat religiously up at their fifth, projected from orbit.

Scott was in his uniform, having only returned shortly before Virgil and Gordon. Virgil was in a towel, his hair dripping wet. Apparently, he had meant it regarding the shower.

Gordon stepped up beside his older brother, a smirk on his face.

Virgil didn’t bother to even acknowledge him.

As Jeff joined the circle, Alan shifted towards him. His youngest was still wearing his green tee and shorts. There had been no space missions as yet today.

“Gisborne appears to have taken the brunt of the earthquake. Scans are telling me there are several collapsed buildings. However, surrounding towns, including Tracy Industries’ Māhia Complex have been affected. Director Thompson is requesting assistance.”

Jeff glanced at Virgil, as did Gordon, but there was nothing but professionalism on his face

Scott turned to his team. Because his brothers were his team. “Virgil, Gordon and Alan. Take Two to Gisborne. John, liaise with Gisborne emergency services. I’ll take One to Māhia.”

A mutter of FABs and his sons were moving.

A flush of pride washed over him, but as Virgil turned his back to his chute, Jeff caught the expression on his son’s face.

And his heart sank.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy #FishTank #alexander sweetapple #possible m/m #nuttyfic

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pangolinheart · 8 months

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FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 14 - CLEAR

🙃

Rating: General Genre: General Characters: Z'rhiki Irhi (Warrior of Light) Word Count: 775 Content Warnings: Implied/Referenced Major Character Death

It was a rare sunny day in Coerthas – crisp and clear. The snow sparkled in the sunlight. Under a brilliant blue sky, the wintery region, which usually appeared desolate and foreboding, looked almost charming. The shrieking of the wind had been replaced by the sound of birdsong floating from the sparse, icicle-laden trees and the satisfying crunch of snow beneath Z’rhiki’s boots as she walked the familiar path to Providence Point.

The area’s lack of seasons in the wake of the calamity created the strange impression that nothing ever changed in the icy expanse, and the stone cairns she wound her way through looked just as she had left them. The edge of the escarpment did, too -it’s lone gravestone still standing vigil over the city of Ishgard. It was in front of this headstone that Z’rhiki eventually came to rest.

“You know, even when the weather clears up, it’s frigid up here!” She chatted amiably as she settled into the snow. “I wish I looked good in cloaks. They’re fashionable and functional! And don’t go telling me I look good in anything. You know I don’t believe you.”

The only response was the whistling of an air current through the chasm below.

She smiled a fond but melancholy smile at the headstone. “Hello old friend.” Even now the words made her throat tighten. “It’s been a while. I have a good excuse this time, though. Actually, I should probably be working now, but I just had to get away from –“ She cut herself off. That was a terrible thing to say. There was no one around to hear it, of course, but it still felt wrong to say it. Instead, she eyed the grave slyly. “But you’ll let me play hooky here, right? Just like old times.”

Old times, and older by the year. He had ever been her favorite hideout when everything became a bit too much; the Scions, the primals, the many crises constantly plaguing the star. He had always been happy to see her, and more than willing to offer her a safe haven in exchange for stories of her most recent adventures.

“I’ve been doing fine, by the way. In case you were wondering. Well, maybe not fine-fine, but… managing. Nothing a few drinks won’t help me forget. They’ll have to be stronger than this, though.” She reached for the metal cannister she had brought with her. Even through the metal walls the hot cocoa within had cooled slightly, but it still flooded her stomach with warmth when she took a sip.

She noticed as she drank that there were fresh flowers on the grave. Francel must still be making his regular pilgrimages. “It never gets any easier, does it?” She remembered him asking, the first time she had encountered him there.

No, it really didn’t. The pain never left her, she had just learned how to put it away for a while so that she could function. But when she pulled it back out of its box, it was the same as ever. Just like the gravestone. She doubted it would ever leave her. She didn’t even want It to anymore. The sadness was a memory of love, and letting go of it was too close to forgetting. It wasn’t healthy, or so people told her, but she wanted to keep that pain, because within it, if she listened closely, she could hear the echo of him.

She didn’t say any of this out loud, of course. It had been difficult to talk about when he was alive, and somehow it wasn’t any easier now. So, she usually talked about her most recent exploits instead. He had always liked listening to her tales of adventure. That, at least, was something she could still share with him, even if realistically she knew it was more for her own sake than his. If she tried, she could almost picture him perched atop the headstone with his elbows on his knees, listening with a characteristic half-smile, laughing at her jokes or something foolish she had done. She would never hear that sound again, but if she closed her eyes and listened, she felt she almost could.

She suddenly felt the warm beginnings of tears in her eyes, so she brought the thermos to her lips again and took another drink, using those few seconds to blink them away. When she set the cocoa back down at her side, she was smiling again.

“You’ll never believe where I’ve been. I mean it – it sounds like I made it up when I say it out loud. How much do you know about parallel worlds…?”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #heavensward spoilers #auggie writes #rhiki tag #why did i write this???#i don't know #i was moved by a great and terrible urge #enjoy~

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thebareminimum250words · 1 year

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TBM 250 Words

6/01/2023

Prompt

Character: A Plumber in training.

Situation: Falling in love with the wrong person.

Prop: A disguise.

Setting: Cabin by the lake, day.

Wilton Jones had moved to the other side of the country to be closer to his children and his grandkids in his first year of retirement. The southern weather did good for Wilton's old bones, helping in easing the pain in his shoulders and knees from all his years as a bricklayer up North, and after mourning the death of his wonderful wife 10 years prior, Wilton needed a change of scenery and company, he was getting to lost in his memories sitting around doing nothing.

So, he told his son he was selling up his house and moving down south to him. The change of scenery and company did do Wilton a world of good, and being around his grandchildren gave him some life, but retirement did make him bored, which is how Wilton ended being the on-call maintenance man for the off season at the holiday park his son managed.

Which is where he was now, making his way up to cabin 28 to repair a leaking tap.

The holiday park was located in bush land just at the base of a rock escarpment and consisted of 30 cabins surrounding a manmade lake. It was usually packed during the high peak tourist seasons with families taking advantage of the lake and trails around the park to help burn off the kids’ energy during the hot school holidays. But during the winter months the place was mostly deserted, with only locals booking rooms to take advantage of the off-season rates.

Wilton much preferred the colder months, it made working out in the sun a much more pleasant experience and there wasn’t too many calls out for his assistance, so Wilton spends most of his time on call working on his own maintenance projects around the park and cabin and stopping for breaks to fish and nap whenever he liked.

“I am going to have a nap after this” Wilton muttered to himself before knocking on the door of the cabin, a handmade sign stuck on with sticky tape asking visitors to wear a mask before entering was stuck above the cabin number.

“Oh shit” said Wilton, as he checked his pocket for his mask “Please I didn't leave back in the truck..ha ha!” cried Wilton in victory as he pulled out of his front overall pocket, securing the mask over his mouth and nose Wilton knocked on the door “Hello? You called for maintenance about a leaky tap” silence “Hello? Is anyone there?” only the bird in the trees answered him. ‘Hello? It’s maintenance?”, nothing.

Wilton pressed his ear to the green door and waited to hear movement. Nothing.

“Well” thought Wilton “not my problem” with a sigh Wilton knocked on the door again one more time “Hello? Its maintenance you have a leaky tap in the bathroom that needs fixing?”

Thud

Crash

Glass smashing on wood.

Alarmed, Wilton hurried down to the side path that led to the back patio that overlooked the lake, “Hello, is everyone alright in there…oh shit”

Rushing over to the sliding door Wilton could see a man writhing on the floor, body vibrating fast, head locked and eyes frozen in panic.

531 words

1 hour

10 mins plotting

Notes: Plotting an idea helps. Did the go back to edit thing again. Will return to this!

Please see pinned note to know why I am posting unfinished prompts.

#today's bare minimum #creative writing #writing

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mudhornchronicles · 3 years

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maroon | din djarin

gif posted by sledposting

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: all the fluff, soft!din but then i said sike... angst, mentions of death and violence, also mentions of... sexual encounters?

a/n: lowkey wanna make into a series, but idk if someone has done this. if so, i do apologize.

masterlist

“You best learn how to weave, girl. A husband wouldn’t be caught dead wearing tattered clothing, let alone a Mandalorian riduur.”

“You must wear much more layered clothing. A Mandalorian riduur wants a respectable woman at his side.”

“Learn these recipes and maybe you’ll find yourself a Mandalorian riduur.”

You’ve grown tired of hearing this every day, but you sit back and simply nod. Mandalore may have not been your birth planet, but they took care of you after your father and brother both fell valiantly in battle. You were on your own after that. Your mother was not a Mandalorian, she was originally from Naboo. When your father was called back to Mandalore to assist in the ceremonial trials, your mother decided it was time she left. She said she was promised a tranquil life with the clan of four on Naboo, but the creed had to be followed. You have not heard from her since you were 7 years old.

Now as you’ve come to an age of maturity, you were being trained to… be a wife?

You sat back and obeyed the elders wishes, but you knew that their rants were not true - not in the slightest. Your father never depended on your mother to do anything for him. Because of that, he taught you how to defend yourself and be independent. Although your father was devoted to The Way, he did not want you to swear the creed. Not because you were incapable, but because he did not want you to go through life with the restrictions that the creed entails. Even if you wanted to rebel against your loving father’s wishes, you were not able to be properly trained nor swear the creed at such a late age. So, you were content with being a member of the Mandalorian culture as a civilian.

You sat at a table that the elders reserved for the women who taught young ladies how to sew, heal, cook, and take care of the warriors in training. Whether it was a torn cape or a sparring injury, you were there to help. You always believed you didn’t need to be there as you already knew how to do it all, but the view made up for it. The table was set up on the outer boundaries of the sand pit they called a sparring arena. You got to see young Mandalorians train their bodies and minds by lessons taught by the elders. As many Mandalorians came and went, your eyes were always set on a specific foundling you met many years ago. You sympathized with that warrior when you first noticed his colored armor. You had a crafted bracelet in a similar color – a deep red, a maroon to be precise.

All Mandalorian armor was painted, but each general color had deeper meaning. For example, blue represented the reliability of the warrior, green represented duty, black represented justice, and grey or silver represented mourning.

Red represented the honoring of a parent or leader.

You watched as the two warriors, one in green armor and yours in the maroon, sparred while the other Mandalorians watched and rallied around their fighting brothers. After 10 minutes, the maroon pinned the green down and was declared the winner. The elders at your table clapped and you can’t help but smile and cheer along.

As the noise settles down, you ask to be excused from the table and wait for their approval. Once the oldest member examines your finished shawl, she excuses you for the day. You clean up your yarn and needles, place them and your newly knitted shawl in your basket, and thank them for the day’s lesson. You turn and notice the maroon armored figure standing with his brothers as a new pair of Mandalorians prepare for their turn at combat.

You walk over and stand next to him, basket in your left hand and proceed to place your right hand on his pauldron. He looks over at you and tilts his helmet as he acknowledges you. You mouth a simple hi and a small wave, not wanting to distract him from the scene in front of him.

“Hello, cyar’ika.”

You smile as he turns and holds your right hand in his left. “How was today’s lesson?”

You shrug, rolling your eyes and letting out a small laugh. “Oh you know, learning what I already know. The usual.”

He chuckles at your visible annoyance at the uniformed program you’re practically forced to attend. “Are you finished or are the elders letting you breathe?”

You just can’t help but always smile at every word that comes out of his mouth. “I’m very much finished for the day. Are you?”

“Yes, Paz and I were just asked to demonstrate a sparring technique. Would you like to go for a walk?”

You nod excitedly. He gives your hand a light squeeze and asks you to stay where you are. You watch him as he strides over to one of the elders watching over the training session to what you assume is asking for permission to leave. The elder simply nods and goes back to observing the trainees.

Your Mandalorian leads you to an escarpment not far from the main town – not far by speeder bike that is. You both called it our place. As far as you both knew, no one had known about the place. The ground is scattered with sand and cracks, but the pair are protected from unwanted visitors by an oddly bent acacia tree and nothing beats the view. The capital can be seen far out in the distance, seeming small and faded. You looked down from the cliff to the ground below. You took notice that the ground had small traces of grass while the trees began to dry and then to your luck, you spotted a strill dragging the corpse of a fanned rawl back to its pack.

You step back from the edge and walk back to the tree. Your beloved unclips his cape and places it on the ground for you both to sit on – despite your countless protest about getting it dirty and tears. He proceeds to take a seat in the middle of his cape and places his hands on your waist. You take the hint and take a seat on his lap. He wraps his arms around your body and lay on him and he leans back on the thick trunk of the tree.

You quietly stay like this for what feels like hours, just holding onto each other. You two rarely get alone time anymore as his training has begun to be much more advanced. More advanced means longer training hours and longer training hours mean less time with you. Mandalore has nineteen hour days and the elders now have him train for six which means you barely get to talk to him and he barely gets to breathe.

You change positions to lay on the ground with your head on his thighs. He starts to play with your hair, but suddenly lets the strand of hair go. He leans over to grab your hand. He begins to play with your fingers and places his palm straight onto yours just to feel how different his hands are from your own. He did always say he loved your hands – soft and caring.

He loves holding your hand. He loves caressing it. He loves playing with them. He loves how they look when in his.

When you’re in the safety of your home, he blindfolds you and loves it when you play with his hair.

When you make love, he loves when you run your hands down his chest and on his biceps as he thrusts up into you. He loves when you grip his arms while you’re riding him and he brings you close to euphoria or when his body is over yours and your hands press down on his back to beg for him to go deeper.

He’s gone a long time without having gentle hands touch him. You were the first person he let touch his bare hands since his parents died.

His helmet tilts over to you and you look up to him. He sits and stares at you and you unsuccessfully stifle a laugh. “What? Why are you staring at me?”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner kar’ta.” He says quietly. So quietly you feel as if it wasn’t meant for your ears.

You situate yourself onto your knees and cradle the side of his helmet in one hand and hold his own hand in the other. “I love you too, Din. More than anything in the entire galaxy.”

You’ve been in a romantic relationship with Din for five years and you’ve heard those words a total of seven times. You savor every time he speaks them as it sounds like utter bliss to you.

“Ner kar’ta, I- I’d like to gift something to you, but I must know something first.”

“You can ask me anything, cyare.”

“I know I don’t tend to express my feelings and you may be thinking this is going to be a negative talk, but I promise it’s not.”

“I know it isn’t, my love. Even if it was, you’re not going anywhere.”

He chuckles at this and he nods. You know this is serious when his visor isn’t on your face.

“Mesh’la… Do you wa- Are you sure you…” he stops and clears his throat. “Cyare, do you plan on wanting to be stay? With me? I know we never talked about this, but I just thought it was time to bring it up.”

“Are you asking me if I want to stay by your side for the rest of my life, Din?”

He nods.

“Din, love, of course I want to be with you. We’ve only touched the surface. There’s so much left to do. You still haven’t given me a piece of your armor, we haven’t done a riduurok, and we haven’t raised warriors! You aren’t getting rid of me!” you joke.

He stays silent and you begin to think you may have gone too far. He opens one of his pouches on his belt. Your mind is saying he pulled out the blindfold he always carries for you to kiss you, but your heart wishes it’s something else.

Your heart wins.

He offers you a necklace. It consists of a maroon colored beskar ring clinging to a chain – his beskar. Before he can say anything, you jump on him and wrap your arms around him. He laughs and gives you a squeeze.

“I had a speech prepared, but I’d be very happy if I didn’t have to read it,” he sarcastically says. You can’t stop the tears running down your cheeks as you shake your head while you tell him he doesn’t have to. You know what he’s going to say and you know he’s going to stutter and shake. You know how much he loves you. You don’t need to hear him say it as his actions spoke volumes.

“I knew you didn’t lose your buckle to Paz! You rather lose me than your armor!”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’d rather lose my sponsorship then you.”

You playfully shove him. “Di’kut.” You grab your drink from your basket and take a swig from the cold liquid.

“Cyar’ika, w- would you like to marry me? Right now?”

You almost choke. You look at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Is it too soon?”

You shake you head. “No, no it’s been five years. The elders probably think we’re crazy.” You both share a laugh. “But, if you’re ready Din, then yes. I’d love to marry you right now.”

He stands and helps you up. He grabs the chained ring and places it around your neck. You look down and the ring falls beautifully next to the other necklace you wear, a nexu signet - your father’s clan. You reach up and bring his head down to yours as you connect your foreheads together. As Mandalorian culture states, the warrior must begin the riduurok and every phrase must be said by each to be vowed.

Din’s hands are shaking, you can feel them. He clears his voice, but it does little to stop it from cracking.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus d-dar’tome”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome”

“M-Mhi me’dinui an”

“Mhi me’dinui an”

“mhi ba’juri ver-“

You feel his forehead leave yours and you open your eyes. You follow his gaze and your heart sinks. Far out in the distance you see imperial ships slowly coming through the clouds. You see bright red light coming from the capital and you begin to panic. You know he has to go fight. As much as you don’t want him to, there’s no debate.

You both run to collect everything. He stops to look at you.

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta. I promise that I-“ you stop him and bring his forehead down again.

“It is your duty to Mandalore, Din. I know you’ll protect us and you’ll come back to me. Promise me you’ll fight with everything in you. I can’t lose you too.”

“I promise.”

With that you pack the speeder and ride back into town, although as the war begins, you wished you had just taken Din away and ran.

Blaster shot after blaster shot. Dead body after another. The cries of children and the screaming of mothers trying to find their babies.

You hear a Mandalorian usher women and children into life-ships, each with two Mandalorians escorts. You get rushed closer and closer to one when you catch Din in the corner of your eye.

You run to him as you hear your name being called out by the other women. Din sees you and tackles you down. He pins you against a wall yelling at you to get into a ship and go. You put your hands on each side of his helmet. Both of you are crying wishing this was only a nightmare.

“Din, please promise me you’ll find me. Promise me you’ll make it out of here and come back to me. I can’t live without you. Please promise me.”

His visor is trained on you as you hold onto each other tighter than ever. “I promise I’ll find you and when I do, we’ll properly marry and I’ll take you far away from here so we can start our own clan. Ner kar’ta, I promise you this with my entire being.”

A promise sealed with a keldabe kiss. He runs with you towards a ship. You both ask escorts where the ship is going. No one knows. You try running out of the ship, but Din only pushes you back in. You hear him tell you how much he loves you before he jumps off the ship right when the ramp starts to move. You sob as the ramp closes until the view of your maroon-clad love is completely gone.

Little did you know that the war zone you had just witnessed was the fall of Mandalore and the last time you’d see the love of your life for many years to come.

update (1.1.21): Part two to Maroon has been posted - Saguine

mando’a translations:

riduur = spouse, husband, wife, partner

cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you

ner kar’ta = my heart

mesh’la = beautiful

riduurok = love bond, specifically between spouses - marriage agreement

cyare = beloved

di’kut = idiot

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde. = We are one whether we are together or apart, we will share everything and we will raise our children as warriors.

ni ceta = i’m sorry

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #maroon

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

“Stones of Power:

The Flints which find their way to the surface of the land are beautiful and varied but nevertheless quite small. The few larger stones which are found around Norfolk are mostly glacial erratics. Due to their relative rarity, such stones are considered remarkable and are rich in history, often having been meeting places where significant decisions were taken. Unsurprisingly, they have much magical lore associated with them and retain considerable power, which can be drawn upon for magical purposes. This sometimes involves spells but is more often a means of developing our understanding of unwritten history. After all, the memory of stones is deeper and denser than the Mercurial gifts of pen and ink of of the whispered word. The sonorous voices of these stones have a language of their own, unfettered by grammar and vocabulary. They "speak’ to one another across the landscape, maintaining, not only their ancient kinship, but also an intricate pattern of silent power lines. The following examples represent just a small selection. There are more which can be sought out.

The Cowell Stone

This stone is to be found on Swaffham Heath, about 150 yards from the B1122 road to Downham Market. It stands at a truly liminal spot, marking a hundred boundary, as well as those of the parishes of Swaffham, Marham and Narborough. Part of the Icknield Way, marked as Peddersty or Saltersty, and the East-West Fincham Drove, which is a Roman road, pass very close to it (Clarke and Clarke, 1937). Its magic draws together the footsteps of the many who have trodden these paths and lived and died in the surrounding parishes.

The origin of the stone's name has a number of possibilities. Ben Ripper (1979) suggests it is named after Cow Hill, or a corruption of coal, since the stone once guided pilgrims to a beacon hill near Colkirk (Coalchurch). The stone used to be situated in a field nearby, where workers sat on it to eat their dinner. However, in the 1980s, it was moved by two local historians, Ben Ripper and Peter Howling, as it was considered to be at risk of damage from ploughing. The move seems not to have disrupted its energy in any way, perhaps because it was conducted with respect and honourable intentions. It has a warm, welcoming lenergy, one which encourages the seeker to both broaden and deepen their quest for knowledge, not just of stones, but of all aspect of the magic of the land.

The Merton Stone

The Merton Stone, nestled in a shallow marl pit, just off the Peddars Way near the boundary of the parishes of Merton and Threxton, is thought to weigh between twenty and thirty tons and to be the largest glacial erratic in the United Kingdom.

Some people say that to stand on it is a chilling experience, where the presence of malevolent spirits can be felt. However, on a warm, sunny day it is more likely to be a very pleasant, and indeed healing experience. It is well known that, continuing a centuries-old tradition, young ladies wishing to fall pregnant still sit on the stone and find its magic effective. The plants around it, especially the Mugwort, seem to derive extra energy from their proximity to such a powerful character.

There is a long-held local belief that, if the stone is removed, the waters will rise and cover the entire Earth (Clarke and Clarke, 1937). Moving the stone was apparently attempted by the 5th Lord of Walsingham, one of the ancient de Grey family. He assembled all the local men and women, together with much beer and many ropes, but the failed attempt ended in an "erotic debauch". Another attempt to move it, in the 1930s or 40s, this time using a large rotary plough, was equally unsuccessful (Burgess, 2005b), although I have been unable to find out whether this ended the same way as the previous escapade.

The Stockton Stone

The Stockton Stone currently stands on the raised grass verge of a lay-by on the A146, between Beccles and Norwich, just outside the village of Stockton itself. This lichen-covered, sandstone glacial erratic weighs several tons and is said by some to have been an ancient track marker. According to Michael Clarke, it marks the old meeting place of the Clavering hundred, possibly the place where the 10th century Danegeld was paid, although Geldeston, near Beccles, might be a more likely candidate, given its name.

Like the Merton Stone, the Stockton Stone has a curse upon it that anyone who moves it will fall victim to terrible misfortune or death. Much to the consternation of many local people, it was indeed moved, in the 1930s, to accommodate the widening of the road. Not surprisingly. one of the workmen involved collapsed and died.

In spite of its unfortunate location, so close to a very busy road, this stone retains an amazingly powerful energy and people still leave small offerings there. While paying our respects recently, a group of us found a rather attractive blue stone egg, which looked as if it had not been there for very long. Moved by the moment and by the atmosphere, one of our party suggested that we should hold hands and dance around the stone three times, which we duly did, much to the amusement of passing motorists!

The Great Stone of Lyng

This is another erratic brought to us by the glaciers of the Ice Age. There are many local tales surrounding this mysterious Stone, which is said to bleed if pricked with a pin. Some claim the blood is that of victims from a time when the stone was used as a sacrificial altar, while others are of the opinion that it is the blood of those who fell during a ferocious battle between King Edmund and the Danes. Others tell of treasure hidden beneath it and how the landowner has never been able to move the stone to unearth the spoils (Burgess, 2005a).

The grove in which the stone stands, almost hidden beside the path, does have a rather unnerving feel to it. One can "see" all too easily soldiers struggling up the steep escarpment and the bodies of the slain sprawled on the bank to the other side of the path. Rod Chapman informs me that, not so very many years ago, some of the children of the village had to walk through the grove, past the stone, in order to get to school and, in the winter, these children were allowed to leave school early so that they could walk through before it was dark. This is completely understandable. On climbing out of the hollow to the fields above, the atmosphere suddenly changes completely. There is almost a sense of relief and a feeling that one no longer needs to speak in hushed whispers.

There is a recent tale of a brave, tough, yet inexperienced witch who was determined to camp out for a night by the stone, in order to become better acquainted with the ghosts and spirits of the place. He pitched his tent right near the stone and was confident that he would have an interesting and informative night's vigil. However, he became so frightened by the eerie sounds and the terrifying atmosphere that he was forced to run from the place and ring a fellow practitioner to come with their car and rescue him! The stone does look something like a Dragon and has a hole in it just where the eye would be, which is deep enough for an adult to insert their entire arm. Quite a few people I know have done this and come to no harm, although it is not a pleasant experience.

Not far from the grove, in the middle of a field, are the ruins of a nunnery known as St. Edmund's Chapel, which was said to have been built to honour those who died in the battle.

It has been suggested that Blood's Dale, between Drayton and Hellesdon, on the slopes leading down to the River Wensum, where the Danes are also said to have fought the Anglo-Saxons, may have been the site of King Edmund's death in 896 CE. Abbo of Fleury (870 CE) tells us that King Edmund died at Hellesdon, and Joe Mason (2018) argues convincingly, that the unusual number of churches dedicated to St. Edmund along this stretch of the River Wensum is significant. The survivors, having found the King's severed head with the help of the Wolf, could have taken his body upstream to Lyng, to the aforementioned chapel. Although not fully excavated, some pottery dating from the time of King Edmund, has been found there. Furthermore, an old tithe map refers to the Grove as King's Grove and a map published in the Eastern Daily Press in 1939, names the Great Stone as King Edmund's Stone. Perhaps this would have been a suitable burial place for the miracle-working king? (Mason, 2018) Some of us would like to think so. Certainly, the Ash keys collected from a tree growing on the ruins of the nunnery are particularly effective in assisting those who wish to speak with spirits of the dead.

The Aldeby Rune Stones

Not all our standing stones are ancient, and just as exciting are those being erected now for the benefit of ourselves and of future generations. Aldeby, in South East Norfolk, is a wonderful such example. Here, seven standing stones have been carved with runes and with Christian symbols, and placed around the parish boundary as part of a Millennium project, known as "Pathways in Stone". The runes spell out the name of the village but are also related to the powers of the stones themselves. The Stone of Dawn, for example, features the Day Rune (dagaz) and a Medieval symbol of the World and the four Elements, while the Stone of Wisdom has the God Rune (ansuz) and the square and circle symbol for the material and spiritual worlds. One stone, the Stone of Destiny, combines all the symbols found on the outlying stones, with the addition of the othel rune, symbolizing ancestral land and heritage. The stones are carboniferous limestone, so had to be brought in especially for the project, but in spite of having been in place for a relatively short time, some of them are already giving off some very interesting energy.

These stones form a pilgrimage walk around the village and are best seen in the Winter when they are not obscured by vegetation.

The Druid Stone of St. Andrew's

When Ray Loveday pointed out to me his "Druid Stone", at the North-east corner of St. Andrew's Church, in the centre of Norwich, I was astounded that I had walked down St. Andrew's Hill so many times, admiring the cleverly-knapped Flint of the church wall, without noticing this stone. It is another of those magical items which are hiding in plain sight, but once the attention is drawn to it, the remarkable ancient power it holds becomes apparent. This stone, at least what can be seen of it above ground, is not large, and has a fairly flat top with a number of circular indentations which are often filled with' water, and work well as scrying pools. Ray is unsure whether they are a natural feature, were deliberately carved out or have developed over centuries as a result of water dripping from the church roof. There are several smaller, less well-rounded dips too, which tend to get rather muddy. The stone, which has a very feminine feel to it, welcomes small, discrete offerings, such as a ring of twisted Periwinkle stems or a little Daisy chain; nothing too elaborate or containing any artificial materials. It certainly deserves respect and attention, as it appears to form part of the magical foundation of the city.”

—

Chapter 2: ‘Sacred Places: Stories Within the Landscape’,

Of Chalk & Flint:

A Way of Norfolk Magic

by Val Thomas

#of chalk & flint #Val Thomas #Norfolk Magic #Norfolk lore #East Anglian Magic #holy stones #sacred stones #traditional witchcraft

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch47: Use Your Words, Old Man

Intro: Jamie reaches another milestone, and 2021 ticks by with many more memories for the Rogers and Stark family.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I adore the edit again... @angrybirdcr did good!!!

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 46

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

May 2021

“Jamie, no!” Steve swooped down and picked up the tot who had been toddling, albeit, unsteadily, towards Lucky giggling away. Lucky, however, was fast enough to understand and jumped up bolting towards the door of the room, leaping over the baby gate to avoid Jamie’s vice like grip on his ears.

“NO!” Jamie yelled and Steve stopped dead, Jamie in his large arms, as Katie looked up at them both, her mouth falling open.

“Did he just…?” she held her breath. The fourteen month old had been uttering the odd thing that sound like a word for a good few months now, but nothing that anyone would recognise as a proper term.

Until now.

“Yeah I think so!” Steve grinned, looking at her then his son. “Did you just talk buddy? Did you just say no?” “NO! No, No!” Jamie wriggled in his dad’s arms, grabbing at his shirt. Katie, who had managed to get the last few iterations of the word on her phone camera, grinned as Steve placed him back on the floor where he headed over to this play-mat and landed with a thud on the floor, picking up a pile of the large, coloured blocks he liked to play with.

“Of course his first word would be no.” She sighed as Steve sat on the couch next to her. He laughed and dropped a hand to her knee.

“To be fair, honey, that’s what we spend half our time telling him one way or another.” Katie snorted, that much was true. Since he had been fully mobile and walking unaided over the last two months, they had constantly been moving things out of his reach or removing them from his grasp, followed by the word. Nine times out of ten the tot was content to let them do so, but the odd time he would throw a temper tantrum to rival those of his Momma’s.

“NO!” Jamie called again, clacking the blocks together and Steve gave a grin, moving off the couch to drop by his son on the play-mat. Katie watched the two of them for a moment, smiling to herself. She knew it was a cliché but she literally couldn’t have wished for a better father for either of her kids. They were experiencing first parenting issues at both ends of the spectrum, with Emmy five months off her fourteenth birthday and Jamie two months on from his first. It wasn’t easy, hell, they spent half their time second guessing their decisions. Where they being too strict or too lenient with Emmy? Was Jamie developing right? Were his toys educational enough? Was the floor clean enough for him to be crawling or lying on with having a dog in the house? But, when she saw moments like this, Jamie now trying to push his large, red Mega-Block into his Dad’s mouth, Steve clamping his lips together and shaking his head making their son screech with laughter, all her worries faded away.

Jamie really was fast turning into a miniature version of his dad, which was another thing Katie loved. Steve himself didn’t see it, but there had been a moment a few weeks back where the soldier had recognised someone he knew, loved and missed daily in his Son, and it had choked both Parents up.

Steve was led on his back on the bed, Jamie cackling away as his dad was holding him at arms-length and then bringing him back down again to blow a raspberry on his cheek, repeating the motion over and over, until he paused and his eyes widened a little. Katie frowned slightly at the look on his face as Steve gulped, looking into his son’s eyes, their familiarity hitting him like a brick.

“Soldier, what is it?” Katie asked, as Steve’s eyes misted up and he swallowed thickly.

“His eyes. Erm, do you think they’ll carry on turning green?”

Katie frowned. “I don’t know, I doubt it. Apparently most babies, if their eyes are gonna change, will have done it by six months. Why do you ask?”

“I just, well, I never thought I’d see those eyes again.” He whispered, gently resuming his actions.

“I’m not following you, love.” Katie frowned

“He has my ma’s eyes” Steve’s voice was choked as he looked at her, bringing Jamie down to his chest, pressing a kiss to his head, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Then you see your mother’s eyes every time you look in the mirror.” Katie smiled, leaning over to give him a soft kiss as her own chest felt slightly tighter than normal. She wiped a tear Steve hadn’t even been aware he’d shed off his check gently with her thumb, leaving her hand trailing softly across his skin. “Because when I look at him all I see is you. Those eyes are yours.”

He looked up at her and smiled, “yeah?” “Yeah,” she nodded, “I think you’re more like your mother than you realise. Maybe not in looks completely but, well, she raised you single handed. You’re the man you are because of her.”

“She was a fantastic woman.” Steve sighed.

“Well then you should be proud.” Katie said, and he smiled looking over at her.

“I am,” he replied softly, his attention going back to his son, “and you know what else I’m proud of?”

“What?”

“That you’re a Mrs Rogers too.” He looked at her again. “I know it’s just a name but, I really am glad you took it. Jamie has a Rogers momma as good as mine, helping to carry the name forward.”

“You sentimental sap.” Katie sniffed slightly as her own tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I love you so much.” He beamed at her, pressing his lips to hers softly. “Even if you are still a Stark really.” She laughed against his lips,”jerk.”

As such, they were currently working up the particulars such as how they set up across the country, mobilisation, publicity…and Steve had taken up control of the project, his natural leadership qualities made him a superb Project Manager. He’d also expressed an interest in actually running the ones across New York himself, another way he felt he could help.

They were aiming to open the first ones in September, running two a week for the time being, just to see how well they were received and, from a purely selfish point of view, Katie was enjoying working alongside him again and having him at home permanently instead of traveling with the Military.

“How many groups do you think you’re gonna have eventually?” She asked and Steve tuned to look at her, momentarily confused by her sudden change of topic until he realised what she was talking about.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’d like eventually to maybe run them three times a week, twice a day. Give everyone who wants to come a chance to you know…why d’ya ask?” “Just drilling into these numbers. I reckon we have enough to fund that to start with,” she paused, “and if the government meet our request then we can step it up.” He nodded. “I put the design idea in for the fliers and posters yesterday. Has to be the most sombre thing I’ve ever drawn.”

“I know,” she said softly, “but it’s gonna make a difference Steve, focus on that.”

He was about to reply but he was cut off when they heard the voice from the security system informing them that the gate had been opened by ‘Emmy Rogers’. Steve glanced at the clock and frowned.

“It’s not even one?”

“They’re on half day,” Katie didn’t look up from the numbers on the screen, “teacher training or something.”

Moments later the front door opened and the chatter of two excited teenage girls hit their ears and Lucky gave a bark, his nails clicking on the wooden floor as he trotted through from where he had been on his bed under the stairs to greet Emmy.

“I know, it’s so cool, right?” Emmy was saying, as her voice grew louder. “I never thought they’d do anything like this, not after the Decimation but, oh hi buddy!”

They heard Lucky’s excited whine as Emmy continued to coo at him, before the two girls and dog appeared in the lounge doorway.

“What’s so cool?” Steve asked instantly and Emmy rolled her eyes.

“Do you earwig into every conversation I have?” She opened the baby-gate and stepped into the room.

“Yes.” Steve deadpanned. “Now spill.” “It’s a Geography field trip Mr R.” Brooke grinned. “Hamilton for the Niagara Escarpment.”

“Canada?” Katie smiled before her smile turned to a smirk as she side eyed Steve “I had a vacation in Canada once.” Steve shot her a glare and his voice dropped to a growl. “That’s not funny.” He said sternly. The memory of what she’d been through wasn’t a laughing matter as far as he was concerned. She flashed him a grin and he rolled his eyes. “So when is it?” He turned to Emmy.

“Last week of term in June.” She answered, reaching down to pick Jamie up who had toddled over to his sister excitedly chattering jibberish as he went. “Just for three nights. I know it’s really short notice but apparently they weren’t sure they could pull it off. Hi Jay!” She swung him up and kissed the little boy on the cheek as Brooke gently tweaked his nose causing him to laugh.

“Six weeks, yeah that is short notice.” Katie pondered. “Do you wanna go?” Emmy’s eyes lit up and she nodded. “I’d love to.” Steve took in a deep breath and Katie looked at him. She could see him grappling with something but Jamie spoke before he could.

“No!”

“Did he just talk?” Emmy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, he hasn’t shut up saying it for the last hour.” Katie grinned “Look, have you got the details of the trip?” “In my bag.”

“Okay, well leave them on the table, me and your dad will give it the once over and we’ll talk about it later.”

Emmy placed Jamie down on the floor and fished in her bag for the forms before she dropped them onto the coffee table with a soft slap. Jamie wandered this time over to Katie who set her laptop down and picked him up. He sat on her lap and gently wound his hand into her hair, rubbing his face into her neck the way he always did when he was tired.

“I’m gonna put him down for a nap.” Katie stood up and looked at the two girls. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Pool!” They both grinned, sharing a hi-five before Emmy looked at her mom, the familiar hopeful expression on her face she always got when she was about to ask for something.

“Can Brooke stay?”

Katie arched an eyebrow. “I thought that was a given, seeing as you’re both already here.”

The two girls grinned and Emmy looked at her mom again, her smile growing even bigger. “And, can we get Thai tonight? It is Friday.” “Dontcha mean Thaiday?” Steve quipped causing Katie to groan as Emmy picked up a cushion off the couch with her spare arm and hit her dad with it.

“That is so lame.” Emmy rolled her eyes as Brooke cackled. “C’mon…”

Katie watched as they left the room, Steve still chuckling at his own joke.

“She’s right.” Katie looked at him, gently re-arranging Jamie slightly as he had started to nod off. “That was lame.”

Steve gave her a look of mock hurt, clutching his chest, before she left and he sat up to read the information Emmy had left on the table. He was struggling a little bit between wanting to let her go and also the worry that had instantly flooded his system about her being safe. He carefully read the details, the trip wasn’t cheap, not that that really mattered, the activities looked good, and a quick google showed him the hotel looked fairly reasonable and was in a nice enough area…

“I knew you’d be on that as soon as you could be.” Katie laughed and Steve looked up at her from his spot on the floor by the table and he gave a sheepish grin.

“Busted,” he sighed, “I just wanted to look into it properly. I really want her to go and enjoy stuff like this but…” “We can’t keep her sheltered, Steve.” Katie reasoned. “No matter how much we want to. She’s gonna be fourteen this time round.” “I know, I know.” He sighed “Do you think we should let her go?” “Yeah, I do.” Katie nodded “We’re lucky enough to be able to afford things like that for our kids, plenty of other families aren’t.”

Steve’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek for a moment as he considered his wife’s words. She was right. Emmy would never have been on a trip like this before, and it did look like a lot of fun.

“Alright.” He heaved himself up off the floor “You’ve convinced me.” Katie grinned “If only everything was that easy.” “It is.” He arched an eyebrow. “All you have to do is pull those eyes at me.” “What eyes?” She asked innocently. “You know damned well what eyes. Those eyes. The ones that can get me to do whatever you want.” “Is it working now?” She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “Why, what do you want?” He asked, smirking, knowing full well what she was implying as her hands slid up his chest.

“Well the girls are out at the pool,” her eyes followed her fingers as they started to undo the buttons of his Henley, “and Jamie’s asleep…” Grinning, Steve span her round, shoved her gently forward and aimed a smack to her ass causing her to yelp playfully. “Get up those stairs Mrs Rogers.” He growled, and the pair of them hurried off, giggling like a pair of naughty school kids till they reached their bedroom, where the giggles turned into shared moans, groans and happy sighs.

**** “Thanks for dropping Brooke off.” Jennifer placed a latte down in front of Katie.

“It was no problem, I had to come this way on my way up to the compound anyway.” Katie smiled and then frowned slightly as she noticed the look on her friend’s face.

“You alright?” She asked gently.

“Not really,” Jen sighed, sitting down. “Brooke called last night about the field trip…” “Yeah Steve wasn’t so keen but I talked him round. The girls seem to be looking forward to it.” “That’s the thing.” Jen rubbed at her temple “I really want Brooke to go but, well, business hasn’t been what it used to be before, you know, and I’m not sure I can afford it. Not at such short notice.” Katie instantly felt like a jerk. She knew she was incredibly privileged to be so wealthy but was well aware many weren’t as fortunate.

“I haven’t had the heart to tell her yet.” Jen swallowed and Katie bit her lip.

“Jen,” she leaned over the table dropping her voice, “if you want…” “No.” Jen shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, instantly understanding what Katie was offering “I’m not a charity case.” Her voice was clipped. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Katie hastily assured the woman. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to offend you.” “I know.” Jen shook her head “Sorry,that was really ungrateful.” “It’s fine.” Katie waved her apology off, “but the offer is there. We could consider it a loan if you liked.” Jen chewed her lip, and Katie saw her friend’s eyes begin to water.

“Look,” Katie gripped her mug, “it’s a couple of hundred bucks. And this probably sounds crass and really, really fucking shitty when I think about it, but I make more than enough and I really, really won’t notice that amount going out, trust me.”

“I just hate this, you know.” Jen hastily wiped her face. “A few years ago this place was thriving and now, well I just about make enough to cover bills and the thought she is the one that has to miss out…” “Then let me help.” Katie pleaded, looking at the red head opposite her. “Brooke’s been a good friend to Emmy and, well, from a selfish point of view I’d be a lot more comfortable if they were together.”

“That’s really kind of you.” Jennifer nodded after a pause. “Are you sure? I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Whenever, it’s not a big deal.” Katie nodded, smiling “On one condition.” “What?”

“You sneak me one of your delicious brownies every once in a while.” Jenifer laughed “Oh honey, you and Steve can get free coffee and brownies for life.” “Erm, yeah, pretty sure in a month you’d be bankrupt if I told Steve that.” Katie grinned and Jenifer smiled.

“Would you like to come over?” She asked suddenly. “The pair of you, for dinner maybe? Tonight? Emmy and Jamie as well, of course.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Katie smiled. “We’re not doing anything that I know of but I’ll check with Steve and let you know as soon as I can.”

“Great, well, Emmy can stay here if she likes. I’m sure once I tell Brooke she can go they’ll be planning all sorts of mischief.”

“I dread to think.” Katie mused “You know I remember my last field trip. It was to San Fran and I was sixteen. Me and my friend, a girl called Laura, I made some fake ID and we got plastered in a bar. Tony absolutely kicked my ass, before he told me he was actually quite impressed at the quality of my forgeries.”

Jennifer snorted “Yeah, this isn’t exactly filling me full of confidence.”

Katie laughed. “Emmy is much better behaved than I was at that age, Steve wouldn’t stand for her getting into the same amount of crap as I did.” She drained her mug and stood up. “I best be going.”

“Sure, see you tonight? What time will suit with Jamie?”

“Well he normally goes down about seven and he’ll just sleep in his car seat.” Katie smiled “So say six ish? I can feed him and settle him then at yours before we eat.”

“Fab.” Jenifer stood up and Katie mirrored her.“And thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Katie smiled, and she handed Jen her mug. Once the woman was out of sight she dug into her purse and dropped the customary twenty bucks into the tip jar on her way out.

****

Steve was in the kitchen when he heard his wife come home. He didn’t move though, he was too busy watching his son, trying to figure out how the hell the fourteen month old had managed to climb up on top of the breakfast bar unaided. Steve had turned his back for thirty goddamned seconds to load the dishwasher and now his son was crawling along the unit. The only explanation was he’d used one of the stools as leverage, but even that was baffling the Captain, and there was no way Jamie should have been able to manage that, at all.

“Thank you Dr Erskine” Steve grumbled as he swept his son off the surface. “You’re gonna be the death of me, pal.” “No!” Jamie cackled, and Steve sighed, his son carefully held in his arms as Katie walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Doll.” He smiled, dropping a kiss to her lips.

“Hi.” She greeted him, returning his gentle sign of affection before she blew a raspberry on Jamie’s cheek. He giggled as she made her way to the fridge and Steve deposited their boy on the mat at the corner of the room.

“How was Nat?” Steve asked and Katie sighed, grabbing out a bottle of water and opening it.

“Still insisting on flying out to Nepal.” She shut the fridge. “I’ve told her Barton doesn’t wanna be found, but…” she trailed off. “And Bruce has gone again.”

“Where to this time?” Steve frowned.

“Back to the lab in Seoul.” Katie shrugged. “I don’t know what for. Anyway, I told her to come for dinner on Sunday and that if she misses it again this week imma kick her ass.” Steve smiled as Katie took a drink from the bottle “Oh, and speaking of dinner, we’re not doing anything tonight are we?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me we are.” “Jen’s asked us round.” Katie sat down at the table.

“That’s nice of her.” Steve poured himself mug of coffee, Katie waving away his offer of one. “You wanna go?”

“Yeah, and it’s kind of a thank you so we should do really.”

“What for?” He sat down opposite her.

“Well, she was upset about not being able to send Brooke on the Field Trip so I offered to help out money wise.She didn’t want to take it at first but she agreed in the end. As long as it’s a loan”

“I’m glad she did. I’m assuming Emmy has stayed with them for the day?”

Katie hummed a response.

“Those two are joined at the hip.” Steve snorted

“Another reason I really wanted Brooke to go.”

A movement caught Steve’s eye from the corner of the room and he looked up to see Jamie was now stood up again and was heading back towards the breakfast bar. He quietly observed his son, watching as the boy gripped the legs of one of the stools and pulled himself up. Steve was horrified to see that he was managing to lift his legs off the floor, swinging them onto the foot bar.

“James, No!” He said loudly. The use of their boy’s full name didn’t pass Katie by and she turned in her seat to see Jamie looking at his father before he let go of the stool and fell backwards onto his butt, the pout on his face reminding Steve so much of his wife that he had to stifle a laugh. Katie watched as he got to his feet and toddled towards her.

“He managed to get up onto the kitchen counter before.” Steve eyed the boy as Katie picked him up and sat him on her knee. “What?” Katie’s voice was high pitched as she whipped her head round to look at Steve. “How the hell?”

“Beats me, although from that I suspect he was using the stool as a climbing frame.” Steve sighed watching as Jamie’s attention turned to the now empty bottle of water in front of Katie. “I was loading the dishwasher and in the time it took me to put the plates in he’d made it from his play mat to the top of the damned breakfast bar.” “This is your fault.” Katie laughed, smoothing down her son’s blonde hair. “You and your damned super serum.”

“I know.” Steve shook his head. “I thought we could take him and Lucky out for a walk maybe see if that settles his energy.”

Katie checked her watch “Yeah, we could do. Maybe head to the park. If we go now then we should be back for his nap.”

“Or we can wait a while, and he can sleep in the stroller and I can take you for lunch?”

“Okay so that sounds even better” she grinned “You know, you’re not as dumb as-“

Steve never found out what he wasn’t as dumb as, because at that moment they heard a yell that made his breath catch.

“DADA!”

The parents looked at one another, a shit eating grin spreading across Steve’s face as he leaned forward across the table.

“Dada?” Katie asked, pointing at Steve, bouncing Jamie on her knee. “Dada!” Jamie babbled again, grinning. “Dada!”

“Typical.” Katie rolled her eyes. “I carry you for nine months, give birth, feed you from my boobs and you come out looking like your father and you say Dada first. That’s gratitude for you”

“Guess that means I’m his favourite.” Steve teased, slumping back in his chair, earning himself a glare from his wife. He blew her a kiss, shrugging.

Steve was pleased, however that Katie didn’t have to wait long for her turn. A few days later when she went into Jamie’s room to get him up for the morning he beamed at her and held his arms up exclaiming “ma-ma!” Steve watched his wife on the baby monitor screen and felt his heart swell to what felt like five times its normal size as Katie picked up their son, her eyes pricking with tears and held him tight.

*****

June 2021

Katie woke with a start, pausing for a moment, wondering why it was so quiet. It took her a second but then she remembered Jamie was at Tony’s, staying for a sleepover. As Emmy was on her field trip, Pepper and Tony had taken the boy to give Katie and Steve a night on their own, the first one they had had in a very long time. Tony had rung them mid-afternoon to ask who on earth had taught him the word ‘whatever’, albeit in Jamie’s pronunciation ‘tever’ and Katie had laughed, that one was firmly down to Emmy. He hadn’t quite managed the sign to go with it yet thought, despite her best attempts.

They’d taken full advantage of it too. Steve had gone into complete romantic overdrive, coming home from a meeting at the tower with a bunch of calla lilies for his wife and told her to get dressed up as they were going out. They’d headed into Brooklyn for a meal at a small Italian (Katie only checking her phone five times, which was an improvement on the twenty the first time they’d left Jamie with his Uncle) and they’d had a great time. It had been intimate, and they’d teased each other relentlessly meaning when they got home they hadn’t even made it up the stairs before they’d been clawing at each other, desperate touches and kisses shared in the hallway before they’d both tumbled into the lounge onto the rug in front of the fire. Grinning to herself at the slight tenderness between her legs, Katie turned over and glanced at Steve who gently shifted in his sleep, a sure sign that he was slowly waking. She scooted closer and rested her hand on his chest, her smile widening as he unconsciously let out a soft sigh of contentment. His eyes were moving under their lids, and as her hand started trailing down over his stomach he took in a deep breath, finally opening his eyes and meeting her gaze just as her touch dipped below the waistband of his boxers. He let out a low groan.

“You’re awake early considering the kids are away.” He murmured, kissing the skin in the crook of her shoulder, his morning stubble scratching her skin slightly as she continued her strokes, teasing him lightly.

“Force of habit.” She whispered back, sighing as he kissed her neck again and again. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until she was pressed against him, his thigh between hers as he rolled them both over so she was nestled under him. His lips made their way to hers and he gave her a deep, languid kiss as she shifted so that her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her. Steve propped himself up with his left arm while his other hand went under the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, to her chest, his fingertips barely brushing against her nipples. She groaned loudly at his touch, and he was just about to warn her to be quiet, but then he realised he didn’t have to. With the knowledge that he really could make her scream, he hastily pulled the top over her head and his lips crashed back to hers, the kiss hot and intentional as her legs gripped him tightly in an attempt to get a little more friction between them. He went to tug at the waistband of her underwear, barely breaking his lips away from hers for a moment.

“You want me?” He asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Always,” she groaned, aware of the desperation that flooded her tone and Steve let out a low growl. Katie felt the tearing along one side of the thin lace garment he had hold of and she laughed into his mouth, remembering their first time together when he had done the very same thing. Her fingers scrambled to push down his boxers as he repositioned himself slightly, reaching down with his hand to line himself up, before he gently worked into her. Man and wife both let out a satisfied sigh as Steve’s hand grabbed Katie’s knee and hitched it over his shoulder, a move he knew drove her wild. She moaned loudly and her fingers dug into his arms as he starting pushing a little harder, a little faster, then faster, until he had reached a relentless pace making his wife curse and leaving her short of breath.

He slowed for a moment, making her look at him, letting out a noise of protest. “Don’t stop,” she begged, “Please Stevie.”

Grinning slightly he picked up the pace again, enjoying the noises she was making as she keened underneath him, her head pressing further back into the pillow a she gave another loud cry of his name before he felt her tighten round him as she came, her nails biting at the skin on his arms. He continued to thrust three, four more times before the snake in his belly uncoiled and he jerked on top of her with a loud cry of his own and let go of her leg, collapsing onto her, his face buried into her neck.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her hands tangling into his hair and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Morning, Beautiful.”

They stayed in bed for another hour or so, just laying with one another and talking before it was time to shower. They did that together too, and by the time they were climbing into the car to go and pick Jamie up, Katie was feeling literally and figuratively thoroughly fucked and fell asleep on the journey, Steve smirking to himself at the fact he could still tire her out like that after almost eight years of being with one another.

“Late night was it?” Tony quipped as Katie let out a yawn as she walked into his living room.

“Yeah, and an early morning,” she shot back and Tony snorted, shaking his head.

“Dada!” Jamie giggled as he tottered over from where he had been sat on the rug with Morgan and Pepper “Mama!”

“Hi, Baby!” Katie swept him up in her arms and placed a kiss to his cheek “We missed you.” “Nee!” He said gleefully and Katie frowned, and it wasn’t until he pointed to his uncle and repeated the word that she understood. “Nee!”

Steve let out a snort “Uncle Nee. Suits you Tone.” “Shut up, Spangles” Tony raised an eyebrow as Morgan laughed.

“Uncle Pangles!” The two year old quipped as if on cue, and Steve let out a moan

“Did you teach her that?” He looked accusingly at his brother in law.

“Of course he did.” Pepper sighed, sweeping the small girl into her arms as she stood up, smirking at Katie. “You guys eaten breakfast yet or were you too busy?” Katie let out a snort. “If there’s any going I won’t say no.”

Pepper handed Morgan to Steve as she was trying to reach him and he took her, tossing her into the air ignoring the wince from Tony as he did so, catching the girl expertly.

“Again!” she pleaded and Steve obliged happily, knowing that it was winding Tony up only added to the enjoyment of seeing his niece cackle with laughter. “When’s Emmy back?” Tony asked, tearing his eyes away from where Steve was tossing his daughter in the air like he was wielding that fucking shield to look at his sister.

“This evening.” Katie answered. “Spoke to her last night, not sure she wants to come home.” “I remember your field trip to San Fran.” Tony mused, raising an eyebrow and Katie snorted.

“Yeah, so do I.” She smirked “I was telling Jen about that the other month. My first hangover.” “Okay, can you stop that now!” Tony rounded on Steve who grinned and rest Morgan on his hip and she pouted.

“More!”

“Sorry, Moo.” Steve apologised and she gave a huff as he placed her on the floor and she headed off to find her mum in the kitchen. He arched an eyebrow at Tony who rolled his eyes.

“Dick.” He mumbled.

“Dick.” Jamie repeated loudly and Katie’s eyes widened. Steve looked at his son, utterly horrified, then to Tony whose shocked expression was fast turning into one of utter glee.

“Oh you-” Steve glared at Tony as Katie bit her lip to try and stop her laughter “For f-“ he stopped himself, took a deep breath and pointed at Tony. “You are an absolute…”

“Use your words, Old Man!” Tony grinned, delightedly and Steve’s jaw clenched as he turned so his back was to his son and raised his hand, flipping his brother-in-law off.

*****

October 2021

“Your daddy is gonna be soaked” Katie mused to Jamie as she looked out of the window “It’s absolutely pouring with rain.”

“Dada. Rain!” Jamie grinned, chanting the words back at her, ignoring the small piece of toast that was left on his plate.

Steve had gone for his morning run with Lucky before he headed out to the first of the two support groups he was running that day. He had held the first one in September in an old church hall, and at first Katie was worried that more people would attend to take their anger out on him and had wanted to be there to help but Steve refused point blank, but her concern wasn’t completely unfounded as a lot of people were angry at first, but no one else hit him, and he said it was actually therapeutic for him too, as he could answer questions, and speak honestly and openly about how he felt about the situation. As it turned out, Steve was a natural born councillor as well as a leader, and by the end of the month he had six different groups running through the week at different places across Manhattan. It was good for him and he was relishing the fact he could still be useful.

The back door opened, and Katie could hear the man she was thinking about stepping into the small utility room off the side of the kitchen.

“Ahhh thanks, pal, “his voice dripped with sarcasm as she heard Lucky’s tag tinkling along with the noise of the dog shaking, “that’s great. really great.” Katie chuckled to herself, picturing his face as he continued to grumble

“Could have waited until I got a towel.”

“DADA!” Jamie yelled at the sound of his dad’s voice, squirming in his seat, breakfast abandoned. “Ucky!”

“Hey, Buddy” Steve called back, as Katie undid the straps from his high chair and they made their way into the utility area where Steve was drying Lucky off as best he could with an old towel. Lucky took the opportunity as soon as he could to scoot past Katie into the kitchen.

Jamie glanced at his dad and excitedly wiggled his arms and legs as Steve shrugged off his sodden waterproof running jacket.

“Hi!” He screeched “Hi Dada!”

Steve’s bright smile light up his face “Hi, Son.” He kissed him once on both cheeks and Jamie squeaked happily before Katie set him down and he toddled back over to the play-mat in the corner of the kitchen.

“What, no kiss from my baby mama?” Steve asked, sweeping Katie into his arms and rubbing at her neck with his cold, damp face.

She squealed and tried to pull away, to absolutely no avail, and Steve continued to laugh and use her as a drying cloth.

“Ew! You’re cold and damp and sweaty!” She wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t seem to mind my sweat when I’m chasing your fourth orgasm.” Steve quipped cheekily, dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper, making her laugh.

“That’s different.” “How?”

“Because that’s sex sweat, this is run sweat.”

Steve laughed loudly “I didn’t realise I had different sweat pores for different activities”

“I didn’t mean that!” Katie rolled her eyes “I mean that I’m not sweaty now, I’m warm, and dry…” “Yeah, and if you give me a moment I can rectify that situation.”

“Dirtbag.” She grinned, his chuckle vibrating into her chest. "Go get showered and warmed up. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

"Kiss first.” Steve muttered before he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and despite herself, Katie leaned into his arms, her hands snaking up into his damp hair.

“Kissy!” Jamie giggled, and they broke apart to look at the tot who was sat on the floor clapping. “Kissy, kissy!”

“I’m gonna kill Emmy.” Steve muttered, and then he spotted Lucky expertly stealing the toast that Jamie had left on the highchair, before sidling out of the room with his precious treat. “And that damned dog.”

Katie laughed and gave him another peck on the cheek before Steve swept past his son, giving his hair a quick ruffle. She leaned back against the counter and smiled, before she sighed, her happy expression faltering a little. They’d had almost three years now of pretty much non-stop domestic bliss, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something surely had to come along at some point and turn it all upside down.

That was how things went for them, right?

“Mama!”

Her attention flew back to her son as he toddled over to her and held his arms up. “Hungry.” “Again?” Katie rolled her eyes as she picked him up.

“Yup.” He nodded emphatically.

Katie smiled, kissing his cheek, and moved him so he was perched on her hip. With one arm she placed more bread in the toaster and looked at her son, who smiled at her and pressed his lips to her cheek in a sloppy kiss.

“Love you.” He grinned and Katie beamed back at him, brushing his hair back.

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” And with that simple act, she managed to push those worries she had to the back of her mind, again, content to just enjoy what they had for as long as they had it.

**** Chapter 48 Part 1

**Original Posting**

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

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haddonfieldproject · 3 years

Text

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.13 SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st 1:29 PM

Warren County, Illinois

Reverend Taylor snapped off his goggles and threw them down on his work table. He then put down his welding torch beside the goggles and inspected what he had done. Nodding approvingly, he picked the remote control up from the table. An old fashioned box shaped television sat on top of a behomith blue toolbox across the workshop. The Good Reverend, hit the VOLUME UP button and the room was filled with the voice of James Christian, the high profile reporter from Vision World News:

“You are looking live now outside of Haddonfield County General Hospital as we await Governor Kathleen Joyce of Illinois to come to the stage for an official briefing on the crisis situation going on in her state. As soon as she takes the podium we will cut in so we can listen together to what she has to say...”

Reverend Taylor held up his handi-work. Forging the symbol had not been difficult. He had decided that the pair of stainless steel chopsticks that his father had given him as a house-warming gift all those years ago to be the best instrument for the job. Stainless steel chopsticks had been quite the “far out” and novel thing to have in 1973, but he had maybe used them once in all those years. He was a meat and potatoes kind of man, rarely branching out from American cuisine, and when he did, he used a knife and fork like any normal red, white, and blue male. In Rev's mind, these pieces of retro utensil novelty had finally found a reason for existence in his house.

We all have our purpose, he had thought.

His welding torch was strickly that: a welding torch—-the small compact kind that he had bought at Hagan's Hardware Store fifteen years ago. What it was not, was a cutting torch, so heating one of the chopsticks to the point of severing the piece in two had been tedious, but it had been done.

Rev took one half of the now severed piece and flattened one end so it nearly matched the other, as neatly as he could. Then he took the other piece, and heated the center just enough to bend it into a right angle, forming two sides of a triangle. This piece, he then welded to the other, completing the triangle, but leaving about an inch of stick at the top and an inch of stick at the bottom. Like a straight vertical line merged with an arrow pointing to the right. Like this:

He then took the other chopstick and welded one end of this to the center of the long and straight piece to create a handle. This he held now as he padded across to the corner of his workshop and to the potbelly stove which stood there. The stove had belonged to his great grandmother when she had lived in a one-room shamble shack off Harris Road... what was then called Crow Coal Bluff.

Ina Shirlene Taylor sold the house, and her land on the “bluff” to Morgan Strode in 1906, who removed the escarpment from the landscape, scooped all the coal out underneath of it, paved Harris Road, turning it into a “street”, and by 1928, selling all of the land for retail development. The sight of the old Taylor shack was now the sight of a Crazy Chan's Chinese restaurant. The stove was the only relic from that old place, and now it most of the time gathered dust in Revered Taylor's basement workshop.

Rev opened the little door on the stove and stuck his masterpiece into the hot coals, leaving the handle sticking out of the hatch. He then turned toward the television. The Governor was taking the podium. Her expression, which generally always gave the impression of a lack of concern for the welfare of other people was enhanced by the severely short spikes adorning her head.

Reverend Taylor scoffed when he saw her, “But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering, sayeth God in Paul's testimony to the people of Corinth, chapter eleven, verse fifteen”, he thought to himself, pulling his little office chair from his work table toward the center of the room, and grabbing a seat in front of the television.

“Good afternoon.” The Governor began, “Beginning at midnight on Friday morning and ending at roughly eight o'clock this morning, an unfortunate and terrible series of events combined together to create a tragic state of emergency for our friends and loved ones in North-Central Illinois.”

The Reverend smiled to himself. The Lord hath made all things for himself: yea, even the wicked for the day of evil, sayeth Solomon's proverb, he thought.

Governor Joyce continued, “At 12 am on Friday October 31st, an extremely disturbed and dangerous patient by the name of Michael Myers escaped Smith's Grove Psychiatric Hospital during a routine patient transfer. We strongly believe at this time that he may be responsible for several deaths and injuries to persons both in Smiths Grove and Haddonfield. At this time, out of respect for the victims and for the integrity of our investigation we cannot give you the names of any of the victims or even an accurate count of the casualties.”

The Reverend stood up and walked to his work table, grabbing the gray oven mitt he had brought down from upstairs. The prophet Isaiah sayeth, 'I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.'

Rev put on the mitt and walked across the room toward the potbelly stove, listening to the Governor's speech: “In addition, approximatley twenty-four hours after Myers' escape, the brothers' Lloyd and Lee Chumway, two armed and dangerous and wanted individuals out of Biloxi Mississippi entered Warren County and were also responsible for several deaths in the area. Again we cannot turn over any names or any numbers at this time.”

Swinging open the door, Rev pulled what he had fashioned from the stove. The design on the end of the handle burned red hot. He looked at it with a smile and then he looked across the room. His basement was a long rectangular room with the stairs on one end, and the only window on the other. His work bench ran along one of the longer concrete-block walls. On the shortest wall, opposite the wall with the steps leading up into the rest of the house, was where the pot belly stove was, along with the furnace to the house and the large tank of the water heater. On the other long wall, opposite hit massive work table, stood his gun cabinet, his large blue tool chest that held up the television, and a long wooden table.

This table was mostly kept clear, and most often than not was for drying things that Reverend Taylor had freshly painted. The other table was littered with tools, pieces of wood, rolls of tape, markers, papers, and the like. On the wall before it was a peg board, with numerous pegs, on which were mounted various other tools and work utensils. The wall behind the opposite table was clear, like the table most often was, only now, the table was not clear.

The Shape lay upon the table.

Reverend Taylor had fastened a thick metal chain around the hulking body of the man, wrapping it several times around his chest and thighs, threading it through the bottom of the thick oak table, and locking it with a large padlock. The Shape lay on his back, with his blackened face to the ceiling, his feet slack to either side, and his arms by his side. He had not moved or made a sound since Rev had knocked him with the stock of his shotgun. The Shape's left arm lay palm down on the table, the blackened sleeve of whatever remained of his garment was down to his wrist. Reverend Taylor had turned The Shape's right arm however so that the palm was facing up. He had peeled back the sleeve—peel being a good word for it considering that large chunks of the man's burnt flesh had come with the sleeve, giving off a pungent sickly odor in the process. The underside of The Shape's forearm sat bare in the harsh flat glow of the basement's florescent lights.

The Reverend came toward The Shape now, holding his glowing brand before him.

“The mercy of the Lord is liken to a rose, but His vengance is liken to the thorn.” He spoke aloud, and then pressed the red-hot symbol down into the flesh of the forearm.

The Shape's head snapped back and forth, the feet began to move as well. There was a hiss as the steel cooked off a layer of skin, followed by a whiff of the odor of burning flesh. The Shape snapped up his right arm in a flash, knocking Reverend Taylor back. He stumbled against his office chair and crashed into the opposite table. A roll of masking tape and a red Solo cup filled with screws crashed to the floor, along with the brand, which hit the smooth concrete with a large TING!

Reverend Taylor watched, not wanting to move, not wanting to breathe even as The Shape bucked and thrashed in his chains for a few seconds, and then abruptly fell silent and still. The Rev gathered up the misplaced items off the floor and then took a seat in the chair with a long exhale.

It is finished, he thought with a smile. He turned toward the television. The Governor had been replaced at the podium by a face he knew well. Fred Colbourne, Deputy Fire Chief of Warren County. A member of the press in the crowd in front of the podium had raised her hand, Fred pointed to her.

“You say at this time you believe the fire was accidental, do we know how this fire started, how you came to that conclusion?” The woman asked.

Fred responded, “The fire originated from a supply closet near the front of the building. The closet had various flammable tanks inside and we believe that something caused ignition here and led to the explosion. We have not found any inciderary devices such as a bomb or a fuse or what-have-you that would lead us to suspect foul play, that being said, the cause of ignition itself still remains a mystery.”

Reverend Taylor smiled. The Lord works in mysterious ways, he thought.

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #michael myers #horror #haddonfield #horror writing #horror film #fan fiction #fan writing #spooky

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scarletaire · 3 years

Text

flowerfall

A/N: Not my usual Jurdan fare, I know, but after reading A Sky Beyond the Storm, this fic poured out of me and I was helpless to stop it. Canon-divergent for Chapter LX, but mostly follows canon for everything after.

WARNING: Spoilers for A Sky Beyond The Storm!

Fandom: An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

Ship: Helene Aquilla x Avitas Harper

Genre/s: Fluff

Rating: T

Links: Masterlist | Read on AO3

[Summary and tags under the cut because spoilers!]

Description:

When Avitas Harper falls, the Blood Shrike makes a deal with Death. Snapshots of their life together after the war.

Tags: Harper Lives, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Helvitas Living Their Best Lives, We Stan One (1) Power Couple

_______

When Avitas Harper falls, the Blood Shrike makes a deal with Death.

It happens as Mirra of Serra takes her knife to Keris Veturia’s neck. The blood and the life leave her body, but the Shrike cannot revel in it, for her love is dead and cold in her arms.

How is it possible that she still had anything left to lose?

But of course, to love someone is both to gain and to lose a thousand pieces of the world all at once.

She roars in the face of it.

In the face of Death.

And this time, with the bridge between worlds on the brink of evisceration, Death answers.

I need power, says Mauth to anyone who will listen, weakened, and scrambling for any strength to beat back the storm. Power to fight.

The Blood Shrike has never heard the voice of Mauth before, but what he asks for is familiar. She knows all too well the pursuit of power, the search for anything to keep fighting. It is what she searches desperately for now.

Give him back, she orders Death with the voice of a girl who has still too much to lose, give him back, and I will give you the strength you need.

The power of the Star. The power of song and healing. The power of Rehmat, reborn again through the centuries and a thousand times in her blood.

Whatever it is, it will be enough.

It has to be.

The maw opens its jaws. The Nightbringer succumbs to the maelstrom. The Sea of Suffering overtakes the sky.

And Helene Aquilla sings her last song.

____

For a moment, there is only the storm. It surges through the escarpment, it rages across the cliffs, it consumes everything in its path.

For a moment, all is lost.

For a moment, she thinks that at least she didn’t have to wait long before following him.

And then, between one breath and the next, the maelstrom disappears.

Beneath her hand, Avitas Harper stirs.

____

In the end, her deal hadn’t mattered. It wasn’t Mauth that saved them all. It was Laia of Serra, because of course, of course, who else could have done it but her. Helene is full of a strange mix of pride and awe when she pulls Laia into a hug. The girl she once tried to kill, the girl who pieced together the broken world.

The once Beloved, the once Forsaken now rests in chains of mercy, and so the world continues on.

Mauth never speaks to her again.

Maybe because there is nothing she could possibly offer anymore. Maybe because the next time Mauth speaks to her, it will be at the end, when his words will be the last thing she will ever hear.

Briefly, she wonders what Death will do with the power she gave him. Then she thinks that it doesn’t really matter much to her, anymore.

____

She stands with Elias as they take in the bodies of their dead. They are spread out in lines across the forest floor. There are too many of them, Martial, Scholar, Tribal – it isn’t important anymore. They were divided in life. Today, they are united in the loss of it.

Above her, around her, the forest blooms alive, like a panacea for the death and destruction spilt upon the soil, blossoms of apricot and cherry and Tala filling the air with their sweetness, falling to the ground like colored snow.

It is a good thing, then, that Harper is alive. If she had lost him, truly lost him, then she would not have been able to bear the sight of flowers ever again.

____

It turns out dying and being brought back to life takes a toll on a human body.

“When will he wake?” she whispers into the quiet of the healer’s tent. “It’s been days.”

She knows the body lying still before her is merely asleep, but she remembers the way he had looked with all the life drained out of him, and it is a sight she will never forget.

“Give him some time,” Elias says. “Being resurrected by Death itself is no easy thing.”

She raises her eyebrow at him askance.

“I know a thing or two about being resurrected by Mauth.” He shrugs, and the movement is so familiar, so genuinely Elias that she feels the corner of her lips tilt. “Guess it runs in the family now.”

Avitas Harper wakes two days after.

She doesn’t give him a chance to get his bearings. The words are out of her lips before he can even try to sit up, like a song she can’t keep silent any longer. “I love you.”

He raises his fingers to her face, tracing the scars there like a benediction. “I got my wish.”

Emifal Firdaant.

She presses her palm against his hand, trapping it against her cheek. “With all due respect, Captain Harper, it was a bleeding stupid wish. So I did you the courtesy of vetoing it.”

When she kisses him, she feels like she can breathe again after a millennium of holding her breath.

____

When Mirra of Serra takes up the mantle of Soul Catcher, Helene watches the life return to Elias’s eyes, and the hope return to Laia’s.

The Bani al-Mauth turns to Harper. “I suppose I should thank you. For offering me shelter and safety in the bowels of Antium.”

“It was an honor, Lioness. You repaid me in kind when you helped the Blood Shrike through the tunnels.”

“And when you aided in the battle with Keris,” Helene adds.

Mirra scoffs, white hair dancing in the wind. “I worried that the Shrike wouldn’t be able to keep the secret to herself. Not like you. A mind like a steel trap, you have.” She slaps Harper once across the chest. He does a fine job of hiding his grimace as she knocks his healing wounds. “Think you’ll be a fine brother-in-law for my daughter.”

Elias splutters, Laia flushes, and Helene feels a laugh bubbling up in her chest for the first time in ages.

____

As their troops begin to file out of the Forest of Dusk, she sees the figures of two men talking under the shade of a tree. Elias is taller, but Avitas is older. And so it is he who holds out his hand for his brother to shake.

And it is Elias who takes it, but uses it to pull him into a hug instead. She sees Avitas’s back stiffen in surprise, but he doesn’t push him away.

“It shouldn’t have taken so long for this to happen,” Elias says. “I’m glad you’re alive, brother. I’m glad I wasn’t the one to have to pass you on.”

____

When Quin Veturius proclaims her Empress in front of the conclave of their people, her eyes immediately seek Harper.

Help me, she tries to convey. Knock the old man out before he actually convinces them.

“Stand strong,” he says aloud, instead, love and pride sparkling in his green eyes, “Empress.”

____

Later that night, when she sings Zacharias to sleep with a soft lullaby, her blood doesn’t sing with her. It’s silent, dormant. The air is empty with the ghost of her magic.

Leaning against the door a few feet away, Avitas has closed his eyes to listen, his lips curled up at the edges.

And it should feel like something has been stolen from her, but really, it feels more like a blessing than anything else.

____

She dances with Avitas at the Moon Festival in Nur, and the night is warm and they’re both still in armor, and neither of them really know how to dance properly anyway, but it is enough.

It is more than enough.

Skies, it’s more than she could have ever asked for.

He lifts his arm and she twirls under it, catching the twinkle in his eye, and suddenly, she wishes they weren’t in such a crowded place full of other people. Suddenly, she wishes they were alone, in a room, flushed and pressed up against each other just like this. Dancing a dance they both know the steps of far too well.

On her next twirl, she catches Musa’s eye, where he leans against a table, flirting with a pretty Scholar girl. He winks at her, as if he knows exactly where her thoughts have strayed.

She’s far too happy to be annoyed in any way, and so she almost sends him a wink of her own before Harper pulls her close against him again and the thought is forgotten.

____

It occurs to her later in the night, as the festivities draw to a close and she glimpses Musa walking back to his tent alone, that she had come far, far too close to understanding his loneliness in a way she hates to imagine.

____

At night, the Empress walks her city.

Avitas Harper walks with her.

The blue irises native to Antium are in full bloom, littering the ground.

One year, she thinks, as she cups her hand around a petal that floats down to her through the air. It’s been one year since the last flowerfall.

The one in which the world was broken. The one in which the world was remade.

____

Sometimes, she wakes thinking of her family. Of Livia, bleeding out in front of her son. Of her mother, father, Hannah. All of them, their throats cut, their lives lost, gone.

Sometimes, she wonders if they will hate her for bringing back her lover instead of one of them, any of them.

Sometimes, she wonders if she will ever forgive herself for any of it.

____

Avitas Harper, as it turns out, is a shockingly good babysitter.

The first time he gets Zacharias to sleep in under ten minutes, she chalks it up to dumb luck and good timing.

The second time it happens she almost kisses him despite the baby in his arms, too grateful for the peace and quiet after a long hour of listening to her nephew scream.

The third time it happens, she stares at him in disbelief.

“Did you bring back anything from the afterlife, maybe? Does Mauth have supernatural baby-charming magic that we don’t know about?”

He flashes her that half-smile that she feels underneath her skin.

Her next decree, she decides, will be outlawing all attractive men in armor from holding adorable, sleeping babies. It should be absolutely illegal by now, the sheer power of the sight before her.

____

She may be the Empress, but she is a soldier first and foremost.

When the Karkauans hold hostage the Martial ambassador she had sent over to confer the peace treaty, she is first in line for the mission to take him back.

“It’s not over yet,” she tells her men, when all efforts at neutral negotiation fall through. “I’m most dangerous when I’m cornered.”

Harper stands strong at her side. Her Blood Shrike, always watching. “That makes two of us.”

They march together into the fray.

____

The next Moon Festival, Mamie Rila finally succeeds in shoving her into a dress.

She puts up a good fight, doesn’t go down easy. In the end, it takes the combined forces of Laia, Afya, and an exasperated Mamie Rila to wrangle the Empress into the thin, strappy excuse for a gown.

“What is this supposed to be, a slip? Where’s the rest of it?”

Laia furrows her brows. “What are you talking about? That is the rest of it.”

Helene gapes. “I can’t wear this. I’m the Empress. I can’t walk around looking like I’m one stiff breeze away from a public scandal!”

“If you ask me,” says Afya, “a public scandal might do you some good. Just the thing you need to convince some of those troublesome, barbaric Karkauans to ally with you like you’ve been planning.”

“Burning, bleeding hells.” Elias’s eyes go wide when he walks in. “Who are you and what have you done with the real –”

He chokes off as Laia elbows him in the gut. “Don’t listen to him. Or Afya. You look great. Harper will love it. Shall we get on with your hair?”

Helene rears back, because her hair is the last bastion of normalcy she has.

Harper looks like he's been stabbed in the heart a second time when he catches sight of her, and Helene vows to never wear a dress again.

But when his fingers find the hem of her skirt under the table, tugging first, testing the stretch of the fabric against the skin of her thigh, and then slowly inching under, and then up and up and up — well. Maybe dresses aren’t so bad after all.

____

Sometimes, when she walks, Laia is there beside her. There are some nights when the ghosts of the past seem to walk with them, too. This night, in Serra, is one of those nights. Spring has come, and the flowers here are different, cushioning the road on which they walk with bright yellow petals.

“I can’t forget their faces.”

Laia has never been a killer. But she has dealt her fair share of death during their war, and that leaves a mark on the soul that can never be burned away. The difference now lies in how one goes about dealing with those marks. No, Laia has never been a killer, even when she had to be.

Helene, on the other hand, has spent too much of her life wearing the skin of one, and so she speaks as much to herself as she does to her friend when she replies.

“And you won’t. Just don’t forget the ones you saved.”

____

The first time Zacharias speaks a full word, it’s in the middle of supply negotiations with Tribe Nasur. She has just been reunited with her nephew after months in the capital and so is making up for it by carrying and snuggling him everywhere she goes, even if it is to a highly political trade meeting.

Fortunately, Tribe Saif is in close relations with Tribe Nasur, and so no one throws dirty looks when the baby babbles nonsense right when someone tries to speak. The Fakira even smiles encouragingly when Helene begins to bounce him on her knee.

That’s when Harper enters behind her with a missive from Blackcliff.

“Empress.” His voice is warm, and she realizes that it’s because Zacharias has noticed him, and is dimpling up at him with his head tilted back in that way that only babies can do. “We have positive turnout for the new recruits at –”

“Hapa!”

The whole room stills, as if everyone understands the gravity of this moment. Helene feels a grin break across her face, and she realizes that this is a first for her, too. Her first real grin in so, so long, after so much pain. Harper’s large, brown hand comes over her shoulder to pat Zacharias’s downy head in gentle praise, and she forces herself to get it together in front of all these important Tribespeople.

The meeting goes on. But then, one little detail niggles at her, like a tiny pebble in her boot.

Later, when she’s pushing him against the side of an empty caravan, her lips maybe a little too punishing against the skin behind his ear, he has the gall to chuckle at her.

“Are you jealous? Because his first word was my name and not yours?”

And so Helene sinks to her knees and shuts him up the best way she knows how.

____

Once, and only once, Mirra of Serra, Bani al-Mauth, visits her on a balmy night. The snow is almost over, and the Empress stands at her balcony overlooking the grounds, singing a lullaby to a sleeping Zacharias. He is getting too big now, and so she relishes any moment with him while she can still carry him in her arms.

It is on a dying winter wind that the Soul Catcher comes to her, the white locks of her hair stark against the night. “So it was you. I should have known.”

Helene glances at her out of the corner of her eye. “Known what?”

Mirra casts her gaze out into the city, and beyond, seeing something that only the Chosen of Death can see.

“There is a song across the river,” she says. “In the Waiting Place. All the ghosts ready to pass on hear it. It gives them peace.”

Ah, Helene thinks to Mauth, even though she knows he isn’t listening, so you used my voice after all.

____

When flowerfall comes again, and she has lost count at this point, how many it’s been, Helene Aquilla does not need to walk outside to know.

The blue petals of her beloved city, so familiar now, drift across her window like rain. The air is sweet with the smell of it, and with all that the two of them had done during the night, tangled together in the sheets of her bed.

She lifts a hand to trace the outlines of the silver Mask on his face. He pulls himself out of his doze just enough to smile at her.

“I know I said I would never marry and have children and all,” she begins, and the words are slow like honey in her mouth, “and I stand by my vow as Empress. But the adjoining room to my chambers is empty and I was wondering if –”

“Yes.”

She blinks at the swiftness of his answer. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. How else will I keep you out of trouble, my love?”

And so their lives go on.

_____

End Notes:

Thank you for reading!

I did not foresee ever writing for this fandom, but after that ending, writing this was the catharsis I needed. Now back to regularly scheduled programming! 😂

* Didn’t tag anyone for fear of spoilers, and also because I wasn’t sure if they’d be interested in non-Jurdan fic 🙈But if you’d like to be tagged in any future stuff, I’d be honored to do so! ❤️

#helene aquilla #avitas harper #helvitas #helene x avitas #helene x harper #an ember in the ashes #a torch against the night #a reaper at the gates #a sky beyond the storm #a sky beyond the storm spoilers #aeita #atatn #aratg #asbts #asbts spoilers #sabaa tahir #zita writes

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chaoskirin · 3 years

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Reversed (Reworked) Chapter One

Well, I finally did it! I am re-working Reversed in order to remove the Harry Potter from it. This was one of my most popular Queen stories, written before the author of HP showed her true colors. I like the story too much to allow it to be tainted by that BS, so here it is with a new coat of paint!

There is, of course, still some similarities. I’m REMOVING the Harry Potter. And while that does necessitate some re-writes, the gist is still the same. I hope you enjoy the story as I repost it chapter by chapter!

PLEASE Reblog, and please feel free to comment on AO3. I love comments, if you’re so inclined.

AO3 link can be found here!

---

Chapter Title: In His Eyes Word Count: 5148 Rating: PG Genre: Fantasy/Gen Summary: Roger, Brian, and John are brought together by a shared accident.

Between the two of them, Brian and John should have been able to get Roger up the stairs. Should have. Except Roger had become dead weight between them, legs dragging, black eyes staring.

"Did you hex his legs, too?" Brian snapped, lip curling at John, who supported Roger's other arm.

Neither Brian--a student in the Kyyra View--nor John--who made his home in Vexxzus--were particularly powerful. Despite Roger falling prey to the same muscle-less predicament, he sure had a healthy weight to him. As John stumbled on an uneven step, he growled, "Use your legs, Taylor!"

"I thought I was supposed to be playing the grievously injured damsel in distress?"

Brian groaned. "How are you still joking about this? You can't see, you idiot!"

"Bet he can walk, though." John elbowed Roger's ribs, and miraculously, the Oerris found his feet.

Vale Rest loomed ahead of them--an enormous, crooked tree growing out of a shallow escarpment. The natural magical force in the area made it an ideal, if not unsightly, place to construct an academy. At least it blended in with the environment, which was more that could be said for other schools. Of course to get to it, one had to climb a million steps.

At least that's what it felt like.

They paused outside the southern tanglewood doors to catch their breath. Despite their altercation, John kept one hand on Roger's arm out of guilt; he couldn't just leave the other student alone on the dark after everything, especially since it wasn't meant to happen.

John only meant to disarm the other boy, but a much nastier curse had bubbled up in his mind instead. The anger, combined with the fresh blood on his hands, led to the recitation of a spell he didn't even know he knew.

Scraping his thumb across his palm, John dislodged the last of the dried beetle haemolymph. Vexxzus spellcasting was disgusting but powerful, and he could still feel the magical aura around him from the insect's death. With that alone, he'd be able to cast for many hours.

As if reading his mind, Brian asked, "Why can't you Vexxzus have a normal focus?" He ran his hand over the branched barrier in front of him until he found the right combination, after which the door swung open. "To cast immediately, too. It's... Well, it's irresponsible is what it is!"

"Aw, c'mon. You know Vexxzus' magic is pretty new," Roger said, glancing up from the floor. An intricate black mask traced the skin in and around his eyes, the pattern almost like lace. It was disturbing but beautiful, shimmering like stars. John couldn't stop looking at it, half with pride and half with horror. A second year student such as himself shouldn't have been able to cast such a curse.

"Decades old," Brian corrected as he and John guided Roger onto the flagstone interior, then toward yet another set of stairs. "A new study in the course of history, sure, but it's been around--There's still people alive who were kids when it first manifested. It's hardly new! Anyway, why are you defending him?"

"Mmmh," Roger mused, his feet tapping in front of him to find the steps. "It looks like he's sorry."

"Looks like!" Brian exclaimed. "You can't bloody see!"

"But I can feel!" Roger argued. "Look at 'im. He's practically shakin' out of his boots."

John certainly did feel as if he'd be expelled for this, or that his family would disown him. Or kill him. Consequently, he couldn't prevent the occasional shudder from wracking his body.

Brian grunted a halfhearted acknowledgement. Roger patted John's arm and said, "It's okay, John. Trust me."

John curled his lip, sneering. "How, in any way, is this okay?"

"It's not," Brian said. "And once we make sure Roger's okay, I'm telling the Council everything."

"I hope you make sure you tell them that this idiot challenged me to a duel in the first place!" John snarled. "And you were his second, May!"

"'This idiot' is right here," Roger noted.

"Good! Don't challenge me to a duel next time!"

"Roger that!" Roger Roger'd.

Incredulous, Brian let Roger go, and stood with his hands on his hips. "Oh, you'll listen to him?" Brian demanded. "This is a snake, Roger. We step on snakes. I'm your best friend, and I clearly remember telling you that this was a bad idea."

"Well, I mean..." Roger fumbled for words. "There's a big difference between 'this is a bad idea' and 'don't do the thing.' Seems to me like we should keep John around. He has the potential to stop me from doing some incredibly stupid stuff!"

John chuckled before he realized what he was doing.

"It's not funny, you prat," Brian said. "You could have killed him." Killed? No. Could he have? Granted, he'd said the words to the curse that blinded Roger before he really knew what he was saying, as if they had a mind of their own. He'd screamed them, in fact, if he remembered right. At full volume, louder than he'd ever said anything before.

What if his anger had driven him to say something else, though? There were rumors. The barest whispers of the power of Death Magic--the power to take a life for a life. Since the Vexxzus View manifested some seventy-odd years ago, those in the darkest reaches of the world had experimented. And, it had been theorized, the words came from deep within; a language spoken with no context. An ancient tongue... "No," John said, half to himself and half to Brian. "I couldn't have. I'm twelve." He stopped on the stairs, distracted by the idea. "You could have. I'm honestly surprised you didn't," Brian said. "Pleasantly, mind, since we're all still very much alive. Thanks for that."

Could he have felt so much hate in that moment that he could have possibly used magic to kill? Was it even possible? If anyone could do it, his View could.

No.

"Let's go, Rog," Brian said, taking Roger's arm again. He gave John another good glare before turning away.

Despite his blindness, Roger still faced backward even as Brian dragged him up the stairs. Eventually, Roger turned away as well, and John thought that would be the end of it. He'd escape to his dormitory and await his punishment while he pondered if he was capable of killing another student in hatred.

Well. Hatred was too strong a word. John didn't particularly like Roger Taylor, but he didn't hate him.

"Hang on, Bri," Roger said. John looked up again, to find the Oerris student feeling his way down the stairs on his own. John automatically reached out to help him. Roger wasn't a bad kid after all... He was just a bit of a jackass. And definitely didn't deserve a life of blindness for a few idiot pranks. "John, I told you, it'll be okay." He took one of John's hands in both of his, and for a second, John believed him.

"No, he's like all the other Vexxzuses," Brian grumbled. "He'll grow up to be a murderer. Maybe even the first person to murder someone with a single word."

John wrenched his hand away from Roger. He lacked the fortitude to argue, since fear and a painfully insistent shame clouded his thoughts. He actually could have killed someone! And even if Roger was just an stick-waving Oerris like the rest of them, with no sense of artistry to the craft, he was still a kid.

Also, the most confusing person John had ever met, because who in their right mind was actually nice to someone who'd just cast a terrible curse on you?

Roger, apparently. An person with feelings and dreams and goals. What if, instead of staring into Roger's starry eyes, John had to stare at his life-robbed corpse?

He saw it for a moment. A snow-pale classmate, dead and still. Struck with the gravity of what could have happened, John shuffled backwards. Unfortunately, as he was on a step, his foot landed on thin air, resulting in an immediate tumble. Something cracked as he tried to catch himself, and the resulting pain followed him all the way down. He couldn't remember how high up he was, but by the time he collided with the landing, he felt like he'd rolled down a hundred stairs. Howling in agony, he curled against the banister, clutching at his arm.

"What happened?" Roger asked. "John?"

"Look--I didn't mean it, Deacon," Brian said, footsteps getting closer. "I mean, as far as Vexxzuses go, you're all right, I guess? What'd you go and--Oh, hell, this is broken."

John opened his eyes, tears distorting the blue and silver colors of Brian's Kyyra uniform. "Broken?" John hadn't ever seen that look on Brian's face before. Gentle, worried, caring. Before, it always looked so angry. "You're both idiots," he said.

"Brian?" Roger whimpered.

Brian bit his lip, brow furrowed. "Okay, Rog... Let me..." He stood, skipping back up the stairs. Taking Roger by the hand, he guided him back down to the landing. "Sit here with Deacon. I'm gonna go get a nurse. Don't move, either of you. I mean it."

After helping Roger sit, Brian ran off, at a much quicker pace, toward the hospital. All John wanted to do was cry, really, but he found himself distracted when he felt Roger's hand on his hip. "What are you...?" John started. But Roger seemed to be concentrating quite intently as he moved his hand, finding John's elbow. A little more, and he was touching John's shoulder. "Ah-ha!" he exclaimed. Reaching all the way around, Roger pulled John up, until he was sitting. Not one to reject any sort of comfort at the moment, John leaned against Roger, relishing the warmth. "Did you fall down the whole flight?" Roger asked. "Half, maybe," John said, glancing up and estimating. "Yeah, half. May says my arm is broken." He looked down at it and wished he hadn't; no arm should be able to bend quite that way, and seeing it just made it hurt more.

"Why do you do that?" Roger asked.

"What? Fall? It's a hobby."

"No. You call me and Brian by our last names. I mean, he does it, too, but just 'cuz you do, I think."

John really had no idea. It seemed like the thing to do, he supposed. Take something precious to someone and completely ignore it in favor of something less personal? Seemed stupid, now that he really thought about it.

"Anyway," Roger went on. "This is quite a spell you did. I think you might know more than Brian." More than a stuck up old Kyyra? Possible. Probable, even. Though Brian didn't seem like the type to study curses in the first place. Academics could name a curse and maybe even go through the incantation for a test, but to actually pull it off? Nah. Most who shared the Kyyra View had the same problem, at least as far as John knew.

He took a moment to feel pride at the compliment, until the implications hit him. Looking into Roger's eyes, he winced. "It's bad, Roger."

"I know."

"Then why are you so calm?"

He smiled serenely. "Well, it's done, isn't it? There's nothing I can do about it right this minute. Besides, I don't think you meant to."

After a moment, John said, "No. I really didn't." There was no sense wasting an opportunity to learn, though. He leaned over to look at the spell's handiwork again. "What's it like? Do you see anything?"

Roger shook his head. "No. N'come to think of it, I'm not totally sure what... what it was like to see." His eyes narrowed, the bright stars shifting around inside. "That's strange. I mean, odd, isn't it? I don't remember what you look like."

John felt sick.

"It'll be okay!" Roger said again. "Brian'll demand the Head Matron. Salwix, or her assistant Cammielle. He gets all panicky and people kinda take him seriously 'cuz he's so brainy. They'll make it better."

John wasn't so sure.

In the idle silence, Roger waved a hand in front of his own face, expression elated, as if this was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him. "Wow! What's a hand look like? I can feel it, but I don't remember. Neat, huh? You know, my view's colors are purple and gold, but I can't even think of what purple is anymore! This is so weird--"

"Please stop," John said weakly.

"Eh? All right. Just thought you wanted to know, is all." Roger pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.

"Didn't know it did all that," John replied. "Actually I wasn't sure what it'd do. I think I read about it once. My family's got these old books. Sometimes I'd sneak into my mom's study to read them."

"Didja get in trouble?"

John laughed. "Yeah. Sometimes." Roger laughed, too, then said, "Look at us, havin' a normal conversation for once."

"You're cursed, and I've just broken my arm. This isn't how normal people have a chat."

"Normal as we've ever had. Anyway, you seem nice enough. How'd you end up with the Death View, anyway? I thought only the creepy ones ended up there."

John curled his nose. A lot of people thought the same of Vexxzus, but one couldn't control their magical aptitude any more than they could control the color of the sky. "They shouldn't be called Views," John answered. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

"Yeah, but--"

"It's just a way to do magic, all right? And some people are... better at it than the other views. Some people... It's all they can do."

"Really? It's all you can do?" Roger pressed. "I'm good at Oerris, but I can do Kyyra if I really concentrate. But I don't want to concentrate, so..." He trailed off with a shrug. "You know Brian can do all four? Even Ghittan?"

John didn't know that. His respect for the Kyyra increased a fraction of a millimeter.

After re-situating his arm, which had dulled from a brilliant pain to a mere sharp ache, John said, "yes, it's all I can do."

"Weird," Roger said, though his voice carried a hint of contemplation to it. "We all just thought that--"

"Oh! Heavens, there they are, just like you said!" a voice echoed from the upper landing, cutting Roger off as a heavyset nurse bustled down the steps. Headmatron Salwix, who ran the entire hospital, reached John and Roger and knelt down next to them. Brian followed a few steps behind.

Salwix reached into her pocket, retrieving a pouch, out of which she took a pinch of red clay. Looping the pouch around her thumb, she reached for John's wrist; her touch set it to throbbing again, and he squealed.

She tsk'd. "You're right, May. Definitely broken. Falling down a flight of steps at your age, Deacon? Remind me--"

"A second-year, ma'am," Brian supplied.

"Well, I suppose it happens sometimes," Salwix muttered, gently sprinkling the cold clay down John's forearm. She muttered a healing incantation John hadn't yet learned and added, "this will numb the pain until I can take a closer look. But it's still broken, so don't go doing cartwheels on it."

John's answered with a relieved sign. "Yes, ma'am."

"As for you..." she said, turning to Roger. Reaching for his face, she grabbed his cheeks and turned his head from side to side, squishing his lips into a pucker with her grasp. With her other hand, she traced the lines around his eyes. "Cold, smooth. I know what this is, but I haven't seen it in years, and then, only once in my entire career! What in Merlin's name happened?"

John looked up at Brian. The Kyyra crossed his arms, quickly looking away. He hadn't told!

"Whrrbwoosiiyrrs--" Roger tried. Salwix released his face.

After rubbing his jaw, Roger tried again. "One of the sixth-years bet me that I couldn't curse myself," he said, brimming with unearned pride. "Now he owes me n' Brian n' John here a round next time we go to Rec."

John bristled. How dare a stick-waver take credit for John's brilliant spell? Before he could ruin their whole cover, though, he bit his tongue. Roger seemed to be in the process of saving his ass, which meant John was going to have to let that little insult go. At least for now.

Salwix looked up at Brian, who rolled his eyes. "Roger's an idiot, Matron Salwix," he said. "I found him wandering around down the hill. Me n' Deacon were helping him get up to the hospital, but then..."

"I see. Well, Mister Taylor, I'll be informing your View's council that you've been using advanced curses. This won't go unpunished, I'm afraid. This sort of magic is dangerous." She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "At least you didn't curse someone else. Honestly, you children. Up. Both of you. We'll have you seen to."

With Salwix helping Roger to his feet, that left Brian to help John. He did so with surprising care, slowly, so as not to jar the broken arm too badly. It still stung, now that gravity was pulling on it. John held it to his chest, feeling tears sting at his eyes again. "Matron Salwix?" John asked. "Can you fix his eyes? He's going to be okay, right?"

Salwix turned, hesitating. Roger said, "It's okay. You can say." "There are... some side effects," she said. "Minor, but obvious, I'm afraid. But you'll see again." Side effects. As Salwix helped Roger up the stairs, John met Brian's eyes, and they shared a moment of worry.

~*~

"Uuughhhh," Roger groaned. As he became more and more conscious, the headache seemed to get worse. Still, he chanced opening his eyes, grimacing as the light hit them. He threw his arms up in front of his face to block it out.

Well, at least he remembered what seeing was like now. Pain. Agony.

"Roger," someone whispered.

"No, not so loud," he whined. Peering through his fingers, he found John and Brian standing over him. If John would only move a little bit to the right, he'd block out the overhead light...

"We're between classes," Brian said, as quietly as he could manage. Thankfully, Brian's voice was fairly comforting anyway, but it still made Roger's head hurt. "Thought we'd come see if you were awake yet." Between classes? Roger's duel with John was on Saturday, which meant he must have missed all of Sunday. At least. "So, this is when I ask the cliché, 'how long was I out?' question, I suppose." He squeezed his eyes shut and added, "Shut up, Roger. You're too loud."

"He's Roger, though," John said, worried. "He knows. He's just being funny," Brian replied. "Or trying. It rarely ever hits the mark." "Hey, I'm funny." Roger opened one eye again, and gestured to the window. "Think one of you can shut the curtains?" "They're closed, Rog," Brian said. "Besides, it's cloudy out. You're just very photosensitive right now. It'll pass." "Oh, yeah, don't take my photo right now, either. I imagine I'm a bit of a mess. Now, c'mon. Tell me. How long was I out?"

Brian and John looked at each other. Roger noticed that John's wrist was neither wrapped, nor did it look like it hurt at all as he cradled a stack of books. "Ah, well," John said. "Salwix put you out for a week. She thought you'd wake up today. I got your homework."

Roger groaned.

"I told you, he doesn't like homework," Brian said. "You should have saved that for when he was up and about."

Roger smiled. "You two friends now?"

"He needed someone to keep him in line. Vexxzuses, you know," Brian said.

John rolled his eyes.

Roger pushed himself up until he was sitting. The headache was easing a bit now, although it still felt like someone had grabbed his brain, shaken it, and put it back sideways. One would think that with all the mages around Vale Rest, they might have found a way to eliminate such inconveniences entirely. Maybe he'd ask Salwix for a headache draught once Brian and John left. "You guys figure out what the side effects are supposed to be?"

They smiled, and John giggled behind his hand. Roger didn't like that. It meant they were in on a joke that he wasn't in on, and that was unacceptable. "C'mon, it can't be too serious. What? What is it? Do I have another eye?" He waved his hand in front of his face, but found that he was still seeing in boring, normal three dimensions. No mystical powers of prestidigitation. Alas. "Is he disappointed that he doesn't have another eye?" John asked.

"No," Roger said. Then, "Yes, maybe."

"It's not that exciting," Brian said. "John, did you bring the mirror?"

"Oh, right. Hang on." He set his books down on the nightstand and slung his bag off his shoulder, digging through it. "You'll have some dark circles under your eyes," Brian said. "That's thanks to the initial masking spell effect. But it doesn't look that bad, honestly, I think. It's the other thing... Show him. He'll probably love it." John handed him the mirror. Despite his curiosity, Roger still felt just the slightest amount of trepidation as he looked into it... and found that his eyes were a rather fetching shade of bright lavender. Surprising, to say the least. He wondered if it was a trick of the light, but when he moved the mirror, they stayed purple.

"Salwix says they'll change based on the weather," Brian said. "It's raining now, so... We're guessing purple is rain. We'll have to see what the rest is. I guess that's the true intention of the spell, it's just... imperfect. Also, it's..."

"Not reversible," John said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Roger."

He missed the blue, it was true. Still, John seemed so down, and it could have ended up being a whole lot worse. Color-changing eyes? The girls were going to love him. "Are you kidding?" Roger exclaimed. "This is great. There's no windows in the dorms. We'll know what to wear without sending someone upstairs in their skivvies."

"Told you," Brian said. He smiled, laying a hand on John's shoulder. But John didn't look particularly relieved. He had that same sick, pale look that he had on the stairs. Or, the same look Roger imagined he would have, if Roger could have pictured anything at that point in time. In any case, he looked now how he sounded then, and that was kind of sad. "Hey, Bri?" Roger said. "Can I talk to John for a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. Glad you're up, Roger. I'll have your homework waiting for you when you get out of here." He winked as Roger groaned, before shouldering his bag.

"He knows I hate homework," Roger said, once Brian was gone. "Your wrist looks okay." "Oh, yeah. They fixed it up here really quick," John said, turning it over a couple times. He sat on the bed, shoulders slumping. "Thanks, by the way... For taking the fall for me. While I was up here, I heard Salwix talking to your Council. I'm sure if they knew I cursed you, I would have been expelled."

"It's not that bad! Is it?" Roger held up the mirror again, poking at the dark smudges under his eyes. Eh, he could make it work. They really brought out the color, honestly, even if that color was purple. "We gotta find out what the other colors are. Think you can make it stop raining?"

"...Yes." John said. "I mean, yes, it's bad. No, I can't make it stop raining. Do you take anything seriously? I cursed you, Roger. Forever. What if it'd been worse?"

Roger lowered the mirror. The poor second-year looked like he was about to cry. "My mum says 'if' is a big word."

"It's two letters."

"Yeah, but you can't dwell on it, you know? If you start thinking of all the 'what ifs,' then you never live now. What are you worried about? That you'd be able to do some weird death magic?"

John didn't say anything.

Honestly, Roger always did have a healthy fear of the Vexxzus View. Some, like John, crushed beetles to gain a burst of magic power, but he'd seen others take the lives of mice or birds. Killing was a strange, gruesome, macabre focus, unlike the much more sensible imbuing of magic into a wand or gem--like a sensible human.

Furthermore, the View possessed an air of secrecy and mystery, even among its own members. No one knew how far the magic could go. What it could do. Everyone else in Vale Rest just assumed the Vexxzuses pursued murder as their ultimate goal. Why else would you choose...

But John said he hadn't chosen it.

Roger sighed. "Look, I don't know you very well, but everything I need to know about you, I've learned since our duel. S'far as I can tell, you wouldn't be able to do it." When John looked affronted, Roger clarified. "That's a good thing! No one should be able to invent a killing word, and those who'd do it are bad people. And... and even if you could... Even if you knew some death spell, you wouldn't have done it anyway. You wanted to teach me a lesson. You didn't want to kill me." Roger paused, then added, "Did you?"

"No! Of course not!" As soon as John said the words, realization dawned, and he relaxed. "No. I never want that. Still. I think what I did to you... It's the worst curse I know of. And I shouldn't have been able to do it. I mean, most adults can't do it. It is still under development, after all. It just doesn't work right... But it's not the words. I've read about it, you see. A little. It must be the pronunciation. It's not at all natural. The words--they say they're ancient..."

"Like... Old god ancient?"

"Maybe," John wondered. "And it'd be easier with a wand, like you have in Oerris. There's a... A motion to it."

"I thought you said you didn't read much about it."

John's academic fixation fizzled, and he slumped. "I pick things up."

Roger muttered to himself, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. Looking through the drawers in his nightstand, he finally found his focus--a rosewood wand, carved in the shape of a panda eating bamboo. He held it out to John, who wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, yes," Roger said. "Stick-wavers and such. I've heard it all. It's a valid implement for magic!"

"Mm-hm," John conceded, taking the wand and holding it between his fingers, as if it were filth. "I told you, I can't. Most people who can do Vexxzus magic can't. Except Brian, I guess."

Undeterred, Roger reached for the nearly spent candle next to him, and puffed out the flame. "Light it. It's the easiest spell we know. You said you pick things up, right? Maybe a different View? One that's not so deathy?"

"I can't--"

"Try!"

"No!"

John pressed the wand back into Roger's hand. "No. It's--It's not..."

He pressed his lips together, eyes focused downward at his own hands.

"All right, all right," Roger said, tapping the wand to the candle's wick and setting it alight again. "I just thought--"

John vigorously shook his head. "Sorry."

Interesting.

Roger set the candle back on the nightstand, and leaned back on his pillow. Despite having slept for a week, he still felt incredibly tired. Maybe being cursed sapped all your energy, too. Honestly, the thought that it could have been worse was pretty frightening, and maybe he'd think about how lucky he was later when it all caught up with him. Maybe he'd talk about that with Brian, though, since John seemed awfully traumatized by the whole thing. He certainly didn't seem like the stereotypical mean-spirited, borderline-evil Vexxzus everyone talked about.

"Hey, John? Why'd we start fighting, anyway?"

"You don't remember?"

Roger thought for a moment. He really didn't.

Clearly uncomfortable, John shifted, appearing much smaller. His brows lowered, but he looked hurt more than angry. "You... You charmed all the words in all my books to be the same color as the pages. I'd bought new books before I realized what you did."

"Oh yeah! Yeah, I remember now." He chuckled. "You were so pissed. I never heard a first-year say those words before." John reddened, looking away. It wasn't just the incident with the books, though, Roger realized, with a rare stab of guilt. Because after that, there was the hair-color-changing incident. And the sweater-unraveling incident. And many other incidents that seemed entirely minor and extremely funny, until Roger added them all up and realized... He'd been harassing the shy kid. The quiet one who just wanted to stay out of the way. Who didn't want to bother anyone.

Because John was a Vexxzus, and so very easy to harass. The whole time, Roger felt like a hero.

It was no wonder John had been so angry by the time they got to dueling. "Oh. Damn. I mean, you have such a bad temper... It was like, ah... throwing water balloons at a bear. Hilarious, 'til it... rips out your spleen or something. Brian did tell me to leave you alone. I guess after all that, I deserved--"

"Don't say you deserved it," John interrupted. "I was scared you'd never see again. I was scared I could have killed you. That's a lot worse."

Roger always prided himself on being the easy-going, laid-back guy who everyone thought was a complete idiot. He liked to make people laugh. And he did! Of course, it meant he was a bully, which wasn't ever what he intended. And he'd driven a nice kid to cast a horrible curse. Of course Roger deserved what he got. "I'm sorry, John. I really am."

"Yeah, well, if we're going to be friends, can you maybe do that a little less often? The bear-harassing, I mean." Friends? Friends? Roger knew his face must be lit up like a Christmas tree. He didn't care, though. "You? And a stick-waving Oerris? This is so cool." He used the springiness of the horrible hospital mattress to propel himself forward, knocking John's bag to the floor, so he could wrap his arms around his new Vexxzus best friend forever. "Ain't no one messin' with me now," he said.

John tried everything to pry him away, finally gave up, and said, "You're going to have to stop hugging me at some point."

"That's a lie," Roger replied.

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon #freddie mercury #fantasy #fantasy au #reversed #ck writes #not bestiary

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poorrichardslegacy · 4 years

Text

Kacxa Week 2020 Day 4 - Retro Kacxa

Nightmares

SUMMARY: Ten-year-old Acxa and nine-year old Keith both suffer recurring nightmares in their respective orphanages…about each other.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874736

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Acxa/Keith (Voltron) Characters: Acxa (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) Additional Tags: Kacxa Week 2020, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

---------------

Acxa

The nightmare is back, for the third night in a row.

Acxa has somehow managed to fly her ship into the belly of a gigantic space beast. How she got there, and how long she has been there, she has no clue.

Her right arm and right leg are injured, and she is bleeding from a cut on her forehead. Outside, strange amoeba-like creatures attack her ship, slowly dissolving it. Vine-like fibers are wrapped around the vessel, slowly crushing it.

A chill runs down her spine. She sees no way out. Is this how she is supposed to die? Alone inside the belly of a beast?

---------------

She awakens in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed, thrashing about and looking around frantically to get her bearings.

“Hey…Acxa…it’s me. Did you have that nightmare again?”

Hearing a familiar voice, ten-year-old Acxa Combari begins to settle down. She is in the sleeping quarters of the orphanage on Corillia, where she has been since the death of her mother. The comforting voice belongs to her best friend, Ezor Corderian

“Breathe slowly. You’re turning purple. Trust me girl, purple is not your color. Here…drink this.”

The warm milk has the desired effect, and she begins to calm down.

Awakened by Acxa’s thrashing and Ezor’s efforts to calm her down, one of the orphans closest to the pair begins to complain about the noise. Ezor, cranky herself from being awakened from a sound sleep, nevertheless sticks up for her best friend.

“Keep it up hotshot and I’ll give you something to really complain about. Now be quiet and go back to sleep.”

Ezor turns back to her friend, rubbing her back to calm her down. “You want to tell me about it?

---------------

Keith

Keith finds himself alone in a strange environment, being attacked by amoeba-like creatures. Nearby, a lake of what appears to be acid sits just below the escarpment on which he stands. Realizing the creatures are trying to kill him, he does the only thing he can think of – he dives headfirst into the acid.

Protected for the moment by his suit, Keith manages to work his way down what appears to be a tunnel.

Breaking through the barrier at the end of the tunnel, he finds himself dropping into an abyss. His fall is broken when he lands on a solid object covered in what appear to be vines.

Gathering his wits, he studies his landing perch carefully and realizes he is standing on the nose of what appears to be a fighter. Gazing into the cockpit, he sees movement and realizes someone is in there. Someone very much alive.

On the left shoulder of their uniform they bear an insignia he has never seen before.

---------------

Nine-year-old Keith Kogane sits up with a start. Sweating profusely, he looks around and realizes he is in the orphanage just outside Platte City.

That nightmare again. The one that keeps repeating itself. For four nights in a row now.

What does it all mean?

---------------

Acxa

After a night of peaceful sleep, mostly due to exhaustion, the dream comes back with a vengeance the following night.

This time there is a twist.

Stuck in her crashed fighter, she hears a thud coming from the front of her craft, as if someone…or something…just landed on the front it. Outside she hears and feels moment as whatever is on the nose of her fighter approaches the cockpit.

Looking up, she sees a stranger staring back at her. He is of a race she has never seen before. Wearing white armor with red and black trim, she can tell he is tall, and of a muscular build. Through the cockpit glass of her fighter and the face shield of his helmet, she gets a good look at his face

His eyes are a deep indigo, and his hair is black. A big lock of his hair hangs down in front of his face. This stranger is handsome, in a roguish sort of way.

He says something to her, but she is not able to make it out. Without warning, he shatters the cockpit glass and reaches a hand in to help her out. As she takes his hand, she awakens from her dream

This time she does not cry out. She does not hyperventilate. This time, she is remarkably calm

She settles down to sleep, and the dream never returns.

---------------

Ten Decaphoebs Later

Squeezing his way through the mucous plug at the end of the passageway, Keith finds himself in what he believes is the second stomach of the Weblum. Using his jetpack to break his fall, he notices a strange shape over to his right.

“No way!”

He jetpacks over and lands with a thud on the nose of what turns out to be a fighter. He cannot make out who it belongs to because of the stomach fibers covering it. Gazing inside the cockpit he spots the pilot…and realizes to his great surprise that they are still alive.

---------------

Acxa cannot believe her eyes. Standing on the nose cone of her fighter is a male of a race she has never seen before. She thinks about lifting the shield covering her face so that she can communicate with him but thinks better of it. Best to be safe and figure out who he is first. For the moment she will remain anonymous and silent.

Through the cockpit glass of her fighter she clearly hears a firm masculine voice calling out to her. “Don’t move. I’m here to help.”

From a device she has never seen before appears a Galra broadsword. She exhales in disappointment. If he thinks he is going to cut through diamond-hard cockpit glass with that…

With a mighty effort, the stranger slices open the cockpit glass as if it were paper. She sits there in shock at how effortlessly he destroyed the diamond-hard canopy. She snaps out of her daze when he silently extends a hand to help her out of the cockpit.

She has no idea who he is, but it is a hand she is more than willing to take.

---------------

Sometime later, after a brief misunderstanding that involved her running over him and taking her weapon back, Acxa and the stranger find themselves in the third stomach of the Weblum. Despite acknowledging that he is an enemy combatant fighting against the Galra, he nevertheless protected Acxa when they were attacked by stomach creatures. Realizing he is someone who shares her belief that all life is precious, she gladly returned the favor and protected him when the opportunity called for it.

Acxa now stands just in front of him and looks around. The third stomach was her objective, but she sees no evidence of the scaultrite she is there to collect.

While wondering what she is to do, they are joined by a third person. They are obviously a companion of her rescuer, but unlike her roguish companion the newcomer’s uniform is accented in yellow and black.

---------------

“Keith! Keith! You made it! We both made it!” Seeing the Galra pilot standing in front of them, Hunk turns to him with a quizzical look. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know. Someone I found. He doesn’t talk much. Also, he’s Galra.”

“What, do you guys all know each other?” Hunk whispers to Keith so as not to be overheard. “Do you really think we should be rescuing a Galra soldier right now?”

“We’re Paladins of Voltron. We can’t just leave people to die, even if they are Galra. Now come on. Let’s get what we came for and get out.”

---------------

Hearing the name of her mysterious rescuer, Acxa freezes in place as her eyes fly wide open. She flashes back to the nightmares she had in the orphanage ten years earlier.

That name. Those eyes. That hair!

She closes her eyes and thinks to herself, “It…it can’t be him.”

She slowly looks over her left shoulder, pretending to be looking about the stomach, but really turning to get a good look at her rescuer. A wry smile crosses her face as she continues the mental dialog with herself.

“So, you’re Keith. The Red Paladin of Voltron. Hmm…you’re cuter than the Galra Information Ministry makes you out to be. And it seems you are here for the same thing I am.”

Acxa faces forward and, pushing all other thoughts out of her mind, focuses on the mission at hand.

She needs to find some Scaultrite, or Lotor will not be happy.

---------------

Leaving the Weblum behind, Acxa makes for the rendezvous point where she is picked up by a Galra cruiser.

“Are you ok, General?”

“I’m fine. Get word to Prince Lotor that the mission was a success.”

“Vrepit Sa!”

---------------

The scaultrite loaded on board the Yellow Lion, Keith makes his way to the cockpit.

“So…where’s your buddy?”

Keith crosses his arms and looks down at the floor as he leans against the wall of the cockpit. “Long gone by now. He drew his pistol on me and stole a bag of scaultrite.”

Hunk decides it is time he clues his friend in on something that he is obviously missing.

“Keith, buddy, I hate to break it to you. But that Galra who was with us…is a she, not a he.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I means that you’re blind if you can’t tell the difference between a man and a woman.”

Keith sighs and looks up at the ceiling of the cockpit in frustration. “That’s just…great. So, I’m blind and stupid.”

“No, not stupid. Blind maybe. I mean, have you ever been on a date with a woman? Maybe that’s why you can’t tell the diff…”

Keith gives Hunk what can best be described as a death glare.

“Ok, I’ll take that as a no. Moving on…”

---------------

Acxa looks out into space and sees a faint contrail moving away from the Weblum. She knows it is one of the Voltron Lions, carrying Keith back to his home base.

She sits there, wracked by a pang of guilt she never expected to feel. She built trust with him. They protected each other and had each other’s back. And in the end, she figurative stabbed him in the back, drawing her pistol on him and stealing a large bag of the scaultrite.

That act of betrayal now haunts her.

She speaks softly as she watches the Yellow Lion fade into the darkness of space. “I don’t know anything about you, Red Paladin of Voltron. I don’t expect you to understand why I betrayed you. I hope you know I never intended to pull the trigger. Not after the way you protected me. I owe you that much.”

“Someday…maybe…I’ll have a chance to explain my actions and tell you I’m sorry. For now, be safe Keith.”

“Until we meet again.”

END NOTE: This story is set within the AU of The Galra Chronicles. It builds on a brief scene in Chapter 3 of the Marmoran Generals in which Acxa relates to Zethrid the dream her ten-year-old self had about meeting Keith.

#kacxaweek2020 #vld kacxa #kacxa fic #keith x acxa #kacxa #acxa

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

Note

Waking Up Not Knowing Where They Are + tori taking care of jame?

Aw, HELL yeah. Once again, I’m sorry my readmores are borked. For this H/C meme!

It was Marc who sent him the letter--Marc, by way of Rue’s stiff and uncertain script. It was a short thing, barely the barest courtesies before Our lady has been poisoned, and we cannot wake her. We have captured the culprit and taken her into custody, but she was only a tool. If you have Kindrie Soulwalker with you, my lord, or know where he might be found, we need him here.

Because of course it had to be Kindrie, Torisen remembers thinking in a daze as he sent for Burr and told him that Torisen would be riding to Mount Alban. Of course Jame would allow no other healer near her, even unconscious, even poisoned. Torisen can’t imagine what might happen to a healer who attempted to force their way into Jame’s soul unwelcomed--it didn’t occur to him to wonder what might happen to Jame, except that she might feel sorry, later, for the healer’s fate.

Now he is at Tagmeth, and Kindrie is sitting at Jame’s head, his fingers light on her closed eyelids, and Torisen is trying not to look too closely at his lordan, his sister, his--

Whatever Jame is, these days.

She looks sick, in a way that Torisen has never seen her, not even after that terrible winter in the Women’s World, when she had been awake for weeks and outrunning the infection in her cheek. Jame’s face is gaunt and grey-cast with the fever the poison stoked under her skin, her glossy black curls dull and tangled, and she’s shivering, off and on, these delicate tremors that bring attention to the way her wrist bones stand out through her skin. She seems asleep, but restless, murmuring noises that never become words, tossing her head, trying to struggle out from under the blankets her Kendar have piled on her. She moves like a swimmer trapped in mud, and the harder she struggles, the more distraught she seems, like a nightmare is rising around her and she can’t hope swim to the surface.

Kindrie makes a soothing noise in his throat, an idle hum, a snatch of music, when Jame gasps under his touch, and she settles, like she trusts that Kindrie is there to pull her out of the water, and Torisen is--

Torisen is something he cannot name, at the sight of it. Something hot and bitter twists in his chest, and he tentatively names it anger. He wants to snarl at Kindrie to fix this, wants to shake Jame for allowing it, wants to shout at her Kendar for not stopping it. He wants to curl himself around Jame like they’re children again, waiting for the moon to rise again, and send everyone else away.

He settles for standing against the doorframe, a passive block to keep the fretting figures outside from entering to disturb Kindrie’s work--no one has it in them to brush past the Highlord. Burr had made a gesture as if to take Torisen’s place, but he’d swallowed the offer and gone to interrogate the culprit instead. Torisen makes a mental note to thank him, and to be cooperative next time Burr forces him into his court clothes.

It takes an hour before Kindrie blinks pale eyes hazily and removes his hands from Jame’s skin. He smiles hesitantly at Torisen.

“She should be fine,” he says. “She won’t be able to enter dwar until the fever breaks, but the poison didn’t take hold the way it should have. She’s...difficult to corner, for deep healing, but really it shouldn’t matter. It might be a rough night, but she should be in dwar sleep by morning and up making a nuisance of herself by the next day.”

“Thank you,” Torisen says quietly, before anyone else can burst out in gratitude. Kindrie’s smile firms up a bit, and he accepts Marc’s offer of a meal with transparent relief, and Rue comes in to rearrange the blankets, fussing over her lady’s pillow for a long few moments before turning to Torisen.

“We can find you quarters, my lord,” she says, direct and unwary and a little defensive. “I don’t think m’lady ever really expected you to stay here, so nothing’s as well suited as you might be used to, but--”

“No, that’s all right,” Torisen says. “I’ll keep watch. Just put Kindrie up, if you have the space, and I’ll stay here.” She looks faintly bothered by that, somewhere between Burr’s constitutional offense at Torisen’s determination to do menial tasks and outright protectiveness, but when Torisen sits down in Kindrie’s abandoned chair, she leaves without a word.

Rue closes the door behind her, and Torisen is alone in the quiet of his sister’s room as Jame begins to stir again.

Torisen doesn’t know how to do comfort anymore, if he ever did. He doesn’t have Kindrie’s unconscious ease with it, doesn’t have Rue or Marc’s persistence of affection. All he can do is brush an escaping curl out of Jame’s face and wonder if he should just--leave, before she can wake up and learn he’s been here.

“It’s all right,” he tries to say, but the words don’t even reach his mouth, strangle in his throat. He feels like his voice is gone, like he’s the one with a fever again, something foreign growing in his lungs and silencing him. He tries to call up one of the songs their mother used to sing, the old ballads that no one ever knows except, sometimes, scholars, but his throat is still and he can’t muster the energy to change it.

Torisen doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, smoothing his hand over Jame’s hair when she grows restless and trying to find his voice, when her eyes finally open. It’s not dramatic, she just blinks open unfocused silver eyes and stares up at him with a kind of childlike confusion that makes his heart ache.

Her voice is a thread when she says, “Senethari? Can I have some water?”

Who does she think he is? Not Sheth, nor the man Bear that Torisen’s never met--she sounds too young, too trusting, asking for help so honestly. Maybe--maybe the changer, the man she had called Senethari when he died on the Escarpment.

Torisen forcibly sets the question aside and silently stands to bring over the cup left on the table. Jame’s eyes flutter closed again while he’s gone, and they open when he sits down and says, “Drink.”

She doesn’t take the cup, just narrows her eyes like she’s looking through heavy smoke and asks, “Tori?”

“Yes,” he says, and his voice gives up on him, doesn’t say thank God, I was so worried, everyone was so worried, you’ve been asleep for three days and I thought you were going to leave me die. It’s for the best, probably--their fragile detente is always so precarious, and he’s sure that if he says something wrong, she’ll send him away.

“Why are you here?” Jame asks hazily, in that thin rasp of a voice. “You should be at home.” She stirs with more intent, pushing herself up on a shaking elbow. “Father--did Father chase you out too?”

Her words are such a clean, brutal blow that she’s managed to swing a leg over the edge of the bed before he can bring himself to move.

“Don’t get up,” Torisen says, alarmed, and puts the cup down on the floor so that he can press her back down to the bed with both hands. He can just picture her trying to stand and immediately falling down in a heap. “It’s all right, I’m--I’m fine. Lie down, Jame,” he says, and manages to force her down flat again.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jame says, looking up at him and curling one hand into his sleeve. He can feel her claws scratch against his skin where they’ve torn the fabric. “It’s not--did Senethari let you in? He shouldn’t have. Father has to take you back. Did he make you leave?”

This--please, God, Torisen isn’t strong enough to handle this. Jame is supposed to be the sane one. “It’s okay,” Torisen says, helpless, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “It’s all right.”

Jame blinks, like she’s as confused by her questions as he is, but she doesn’t loosen her grip on him. “Are we--where are we, Tori? It’s so--why are you here?”

“We’re at the keep, at Tagmeth. You called for me--or, your Kendar did.”

“At the keep?” Jame repeats. She’s frowning, confused, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. He grabs her hand and starts trying to unclench her fingers--he needs to get Kindrie, surely, to find out if this delirium is dangerous, but Jame’s grip is tenacious and she’s managed to put three clawed fingers clean through the cloth of his shirt, so that he doesn’t have a hope of getting her off unless he cuts the sleeve completely.

“Yes,” he says, and tries to make his voice as gentle as he can manage. “At Tagmeth. You were poisoned, do you remember?”

“Poison,” Jame murmurs. She lets out a hoarse noise and says, “Unclean.”

“No,” Torisen says, and they’re both clearly taken aback by how loud his voice is. Not his memory--Shanir, godspawn--but remembered with perfect clarity nonetheless. “No,” he repeats, more moderately. “You were given something. You’re going to be all right.”

“Father will be angry when he finds us,” Jame mumbles. She curls toward him, on her side, so that her fist is still clenched in his sleeve and her face is pressed into his leg. “Don’t leave, okay? I’ll tell him it was my fault.”

“I won’t leave,” Torisen says, the words hanging fragile in the air. His hand is still resting on hers, fisted into his shirt, but he’s given up on prying her loose, just cupping the delicate bones of her hand in his palm. Her skin is hot and dry, but a shiver runs down her spine and she curls tighter into him, even though he must feel cold to her. “I brought you water,” he tells her quietly. “You need to drink.”

She’s already asleep again.

#kencyrath #chronicles of the kencyrath #torisen black lord #jame priest's bane #jame x tori #I NEED AN OTP TAG #starlight writes stuff #ask meme #fic meme #torisen that emotion you are feeling is JEALOUSY please get with the program #this is nominally set after by demons possessed although not in any particularly specific timeframe #jame was poisoned by the randir of course. once torisen gets Answers they sit down and plot some stuff together.#if i had my way this would be the prompt for torisen to spend kind of an unexpected amount of time in tagmeth #just a couple weeks or so. long enough for jame to make some hesitant overtures of welcome and affection and secret-sharing.#tori doesn't really know how to handle it but Damn He Sure Is Trying #also a near-miss with jame dying of poison without him even being there has made him...a little paranoid #I HAVE ANOTHER ASK ABOUT THE KENCYRATH AND I'M SO TORN #BECAUSE ON THE ONE HAND: IT ALSO PROPOSES A VERY EXCELLENT SONGXIAO CONCEPT #BUT ON THE OTHER HAND IT WOULD BE P E R F E C T FOR MORE OF THAT LOTUS EATER AU I PROPOSED #i actually thought about this being a lotus eater au but like...that would have been Long and also Sad #(jame knows it's a dream and that all she has to do is wait for someone to come get her. or for her shanir powers to rip her a door.)#(but...she waits. it's nice to have tori smile at her is all. and this dream of tori brightens just by seeing her.)#(kindrie comes in to find her and looks at her dream and looks at jame and she says 'don't say anything to him' and they don't.)#(jame wakes up with tori sitting beside her and for a moment she forgets and kisses him and then she pulls back and apologizes)#asked and answered #smallblueandloud

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch47: Use Your Words, Old Man

Intro: Jamie reaches another milestone, and 2021 ticks by with many more memories for the Rogers and Stark family.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Tony teaching his nephew bad words…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

May 2021

“Jamie…no!” Steve swooped down and picked up the tot who had been toddling, unsteadily albeit towards Lucky giggling away. Lucky, however, was fast enough to understand and jumped up bolting towards the door of the room, leaping over the baby gate to avoid Jamie’s vice like grip on his ears.

“NO!” The toddler giggled and Steve stopped dead. Katie looked up and her mouth fell open.

“Did he just…” she held her breath. The 14 month old had been uttering the odd thing that sound like a word for a good few months but nothing that anyone would recognise as a proper term until then.

“Yeah I think so!” Steve grinned, looking at her then his son “Did you just talk buddy? Did you just say no?” “NO! No, No!” Jamie wriggled in his dad’s arms, grabbing at his once more present beard. Katie, who had managed to get the last few iterations of the word on her phone camera grinned as Steve placed him back on the floor where he headed over to this play-mat and landed with a thud on the floor, picking up a pile of the large, coloured blocks he liked to play with.

“Of course his first word would be No.” She sighed as Steve sat on the couch next to her. He laughed and dropped a hand to her knee.

“To be fair, honey, that’s what we spend half our time telling him one way or another.” Katie snorted, that much was true. Since he had been fully mobile and walking unaided over the last two months they had constantly been moving things out of his reach or removing them from his grasp often followed by the word. Nine times out of ten the tot was content to let them do so, but the odd time he would throw a temper tantrum to rival those of Katie’s at which point Steve would simply sigh, throw him over a shoulder and wait until he gave in.

“NO!” Jamie called again, clacking the bricks together and Steve gave a grin and moved off the couch to drop by his son on the play-mat. Katie watched the two of them for a moment, smiling to herself. She knew it was a cliché but she literally couldn’t have wished for a better father for either of her kids. They were experiencing first parenting issues at both ends of the spectrum, with Emmy five months off her fourteenth birthday and Jamie two months on from his 1st. It wasn’t easy, hell, they spent half their time second guessing their decisions. Where they being too strict or too lenient with Emmy? Was Jamie developing right? Where his toys educational enough? Was the floor clean enough for him to be crawling or lying on with having a dog in the house? But, when she saw moments like this, Jamie now trying to push his large, red MegaBlock into his Dad’s mouth, Steve clamping his lips together and shaking his head making their son screech with laughter, all her worries faded away.

Steve was led on his back on the bed, Jamie cackling away as his dad was holding him at arms-length and then bringing him back down again to blow a raspberry on his cheek, repeating the motion over and over again, until he paused and his eyes widened a little. Katie frowned slightly at the look on his face. Steve gulped as he looked into his son’s eyes, their familiarity hitting him like a brick.

“Honey what is it?” Katie asked, as his eyes misted up and he swallowed thickly.

“His eyes. Do you think they’ll carry on turning green?”

Katie frowned “I don’t know, I doubt it. Apparently most babies, if their eyes are gonna change, will have done it by six months. Why do you ask?”

“I just, well, I never thought I’d see those eyes again.” he whispered, gently resuming his actions.

“I’m not following.” Katie frowned

“They err, he has ma’s eyes” Steve said, his voice was choked as he looked at her, bringing Jamie down to his chest, a soft smile playing on his face.

He looked up at her and smiled, “yeah?” “Yeah.” she nodded, “I think you’re more like your mother than you realise sweetheart, maybe not in looks completely but, well, she raised you single handed. You’re the man you are because of her.”

“She was a fantastic woman.” Steve sighed.

“Well then you should be proud.” Katie said, and he smiled looking over at her.

“ I am.” he replied softly, his attention going back to his son. “And you know what else I’m proud of?”

“What?”

“That you’re a Mrs Rogers too.” he looked at her again “I know it’s just a name but, I really am glad you took it. Jamie has a Rogers momma as good as mine, helping to carry the name forward.”

“You sentimental sap.” Katie sniffed slightly as her own tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I love you so much.” he beamed at her, pressing his lips to hers softly. “Even if you are still a Stark really.” She laughed against his lips and gently hit him on the chest “Jerk.”

Katie turned back to the laptop she’d been looking at, flicking through a few spreadsheets with the latest figures the SIDE accountants had produced. Steve and Emmy’s idea around the support groups had been well received by everyone involved with the foundation and as such they’d started drafting up the paper work and working out the estimated funding. Steve had consulted Rhodey about the programme and the Colonel had enthusiastically agreed it was a great idea, and as such they’d pitched it to the Government, President Ellis’ reaction had been the same as theirs – why didn’t we think of this before- As such, they were currently working up the particulars, how they set up across the country, mobilisation, publicity…and Steve had taken up control of the project, his natural leadership qualities made him a superb Project Manager. He’d also expressed an interest in actually running the ones across New York himself, another way he felt he could help. They were aiming to open the first ones in September, running 2 a week for the time being, just to see how well they were received and, from a purely selfish point of view, Katie was enjoying working alongside him again and having him at home permanently instead of traveling with the Military.

“How many groups do you think you’re gonna have eventually?” she asked and Steve tuned to look at her.

“I dunno.” he shrugged “I’d like eventually to maybe run them three times a week, twice a day. Give everyone who wants to come a chance to you know…why?” “Just drilling into these numbers. I reckon we have enough to fund that to start with,” she paused, “and if the government meet our request then we can step it up.” He nodded “I put the design idea in for the fliers and posters yesterday. Has to be the mot sombre thing I’ve ever drawn.”

“I know.” she said softly “But it’s gonna make a difference Steve, focus on that.”

He was about to reply but he was cut off when they heard the voice from the security system informing them that the gate had been opened by “Emmy Rogers”. Steve glanced at the clock and frowned.

“It’s not even 1?”

“They’re on half day” Katie didn’t look up from the numbers on the screen “Teacher training or something.”

Moments late the front door opened and the chatter of two excited teenage girls hit their ears and Lucky gave a bark, his nails clicking on the wooden floor as he trotted through from where he had been on his bed under the stairs to greet Emmy.

“I know…” Emmy was saying, as her voice grew louder “I mean, I never thought they’d do anything like this not after the Decimation but…hi buddy!”

They heard Lucky’s excited whine and then they appeared in the doorway.

“Never thought they’d do anything like what?” Steve asked instantly and Emmy rolled her eyes.

“Do you earwig into every conversation I have?” she rolled her eyes, opening the baby-gate and stepping into the room.

“Yes.” Steve deadpanned. “Spill.” “Geography field trip Mr R.” Brooke grinned “Hamilton for the Niagara Escarpment.”

“Canada?” Katie smiled before her smile turned to a smirk as she side eyed Steve “I had a vacation in Canada once…” Steve shot her a glare and his voice dropped to a growl “That’s not funny.” he said sternly. The memory of what she’d been through wasn’t a laughing matter as far as he was concerned. She flashed him a grin and he rolled his eyes.

“So when is it?”

“Last week of term in June” Emmy answered, reaching down to pick Jamie up who had toddled over to his sister excitedly chattering jibberish as he went “Just for three nights. I know it’s really short notice but apparently they weren’t sure they could pull it off. Hi Jay!” she swung him up and kissed the little boy on the cheek as Brooke gently tweaked his nose causing him to laugh.

“6 weeks, yeah that is short notice.” Katie said. “Do you wanna go?” Emmy’s eyes lit up and she nodded “I’d love to.” Steve took in a deep breath and Katie looked at him. She could see him grappling with something but Jamie spoke before he could.

“No!”

“Did he just talk?” Emmy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, he hasn’t shut up saying it for the last hour.” Katie grinned “Look, have you got the details of the trip?” “In my bag.” she nodded. “Ok well leave them on the table, me and your dad will give it the once over and we’ll talk about it later.”

“I’m gonna put him down for a nap.” Katie stood up and looked at the 2 girls. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Pool!” they both said, sharing a hi-five before Emmy looked at her mom, the familiar hopeful expression on her face she always got when she was about to ask for something.

“Can we get Thai tonight? It is Friday.” “Dontcha mean Thaiday…” Steve quipped causing Katie to groan as Emmy picked up a cushion off the couch with her spare arm and hit her dad with it.

“That is so lame” Emmy rolled her eyes as Brooke cackled. “C’mon…”

Katie watched as they left the room, Steve still chuckling at his own joke.

“She’s right.” Katie looked at him, gently re-arranging Jamie slightly as he had started to nod off “That was lame.”

Steve gave her a look of mock hurt, clutching his chest, before she left and he sat up to read the information Emmy had left on the table. He was struggling a little bit between wanting to let her go and also the worry that had instantly flooded his system about her being safe. He carefully read the information, the trip was almost three-fifty, not that it mattered, and was for three nights. They were to fly into Toronto and then coach down. The activities looked good, and quick google showed him the hotel looked fairly reasonable and was in a nice enough area…

“I knew you’d be on that as soon as you could be.” Katie laughed and Steve looked up at her from his spot on the floor by the table and he gave a sheepish grin.

“Busted,” he sighed, “I just wanted to look into it properly. You know I really want her to go and enjoy stuff like this but…” “We can’t keep her sheltered Steve.” Katie reasoned, “No matter how much we want to. She’s gonna be fourteen this time round.” “I know, I know.” He sighed “Do you think we should let her go?” “Yeah, I do.” Katie nodded “We’re lucky enough to be able to afford things like that for our kids, plenty of other families aren’t.”

“Alright.” He heaved himself up off the floor “You’ve convinced me.” Katie grinned “If only everything was that easy.” “It is.” he arched an eyebrow. “All you have to do is pull those eyes at me.” “What eyes?” she asked innocently. “You know damned well what eyes. Those eyes. The ones that can get me to do whatever you want.” “Is it working now?” she looked up at him, flicking her eyelashes. “Why, what do you want?” he asked, smirking, knowing full well what she was implying as her hands slid up his chest.

“Well the girls are out at the pool,” she said, her eyes now on the buttons of his Henley as she started to undo them, “and Jamie’s asleep…” Grinning he span her round, shoved her gently forward and aimed a smack to her ass causing her to yelp playfully “Get up those stairs Mrs Rogers.” He said, and the pair of them hurried off, giggling like a pair of naughty school kids till they reached their bedroom, where the giggles turned into shared moans, groans and happy sighs.

**** “Thanks for dropping Brooke off.” Jennifer smiled the next morning, placing a latte down in front of Katie.

“It was no problem, I had to come this way on my way up to the compound anyway.” Katie smiled and then frowned slightly as she noticed the look on her friend’s face.

“You alright?” She asked gently.

“Not really,” she said, sitting down. “Brooke called last night about the field trip…” Katie nodded “Yeah Steve wasn’t so keen but I talked him round. The girls seem to be looking forward to it.” “That’s the thing.” Jen sighed, rubbing her temple “I really want Brooke to go but, well, business hasn’t been what it used to be before, you know, and I’m not sure I can afford for her to go, not at such short notice.” Katie instantly felt like a jerk. She knew she was incredibly privileged to be so wealthy but was well aware many weren’t as fortunate.

“I haven’t had the heart to tell her yet.” Jen said. Katie bit her lip.

“Jen,” she leaned over the table dropping her voice, “if you want…” “No.” Jen shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, instantly understanding what Katie was offering “I’m not a charity case.” her voice was clipped. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Katie hastily assured the woman “Honestly, I didn’t mean to offend you.” “I know.” Jen shook her head “Sorry, that was really ungrateful.” “It’s fine.” Katie said, “But the offers there. We could consider it a loan if you liked.” Jen chewed her lip, and Katie saw her friend’s eyes begin to water.

“Look,” Katie gripped her mug “It’s a couple of hundred bucks. And this probably sounds crass but I make more money than I know what to do with.”

“Sorry, I just hate this, you know.” Jen hastily wiped her face “A few years ago this place was thriving and now, well I just about make enough to cover bills and the thought she is the one that has to miss out…” “Then let me help.” Katie pleaded, looking at the red head opposite her “Brooke’s been a good friend to Emmy and, well, from a selfish point of view I’d be a lot more comfortable if they were together.”

“That’s really kind of you.” Jennifer nodded after a pause “Are you sure? I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Whenever, it’s not a big deal.” Katie nodded, smiling “On one condition.” “What?”

“Would you like to come over?” she asked suddenly “The pair of you, for dinner maybe? Tonight? Emmy and Jamie as well, of course.”

“I think that should be ok.” Katie smiled “We’re not doing anything that I know of.”

“Great, well, Emmy can stay here if she likes, sure once I tell Brooke she can go they’ll be planning all sorts of mischief.”

“I dread to think” Katie mused “You know I went on a field trip to San Fran one year. I was 16. Me and my friend, a girl called Laura, I made some fake ID and we got plastered in a bar. Tony absolutely kicked my ass, although he told me a few years later he was actually quite impressed at the quality of my forgeries.”

Jennifer snorted “Yeah, this isn’t exactly filling me full of confidence.”

Katie laughed “Emmy is much better behaved than I was at that age.” She drained her mug and stood up. “I best be going.”

“Sure, see you tonight? What time will suit with Jamie?”

“Well he normally goes down about seven and he’ll just sleep in his car seat.” Katie smiled “So say six ish? I can feed him and settle him then at yours before we eat.”

“Fab.” Jenifer stood up and Katie mirrored her “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.” she smiled, and she handed Jen her mug. Once the woman was out of sight she dug into her purse and dropped the customary twenty bucks into the tip jar.

****

Steve was in the kitchen when he heard his wife come home. He didn’t move though, he was too busy watching his son, trying to figure out how the hell the fourteen month old had managed to climb up on top of the breakfast bar unaided. The only explanation was he’d used one of the stools as leverage, but even that was baffling him and there was no way he should have been able to manage that, at all. He had turned his back for thirty goddamned seconds to load the dishwasher and now his son was crawling along the unit.

“Thank you Dr Erskine” Steve grumbled as he swept his son off the surface “You’re gonna be the death of me, pal.” “No!” Jamie cackled, and Steve sighed, his son carefully held in his arms as Katie walked into the kitchen. “Hey, baby.” he said, dropping a kiss to her lips.

“Hi.” She greeted him, returning his gentle sign of affection before she blew a raspberry on Jamie’s cheek. He giggled as she made her way to the fridge and Steve deposited him on the mat at the corner of the room.

“How was Nat?” Steve asked and Katie sighed, grabbing out a bottle of water and opening it.

“Still insisting on flying out to Nepal.” she shut the fridge. “I’ve told her Barton doesn’t wanna be found, but…” she trailed off. “And Bruce has gone again.”

“Where to this time?” Steve frowned.

“Back to the lab in Seoul.” Katie shrugged “I don’t know what for. Anyway, I told her to come for dinner on Sunday and that if she misses it again this week imma kick her ass.” Steve smiled as Katie took a drink from the bottle “Oh, and speaking of dinner, we’re not doing anything tonight are we?” she asked,

“Not at the moment but I’m sure you’re about to tell me we are.” “Correct, Jen’s asked us round.” she said sitting down at the table

“That’s nice of her.” Steve said, pouring himself mug of coffee, Katie waving away his offer of one “You wanna go?”

“Yeah, and it’s kind of a thank you so we should do really.”

“What for?” he sat down opposite her.

“Well, she was upset about not being able to send Brooke on the Field Trip so I offered to help out money wise.” she shrugged, “You don’t mind do you?”

Steve shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“She didn’t want to take it at first but she agreed in the end. As long as it’s a loan”

“I’m glad she agreed to take it. I’m assuming Emmy has stayed with them for the day?”

Katie hummed a response.

“Those two are joined at the hip.” Steve snorted

“Another reason I really wanted Brooke to go.”

A movement caught Steve’s eye from the corner of the room and he looked up to see Jamie was now stood up again and was heading back towards the breakfast bar. He quietly observed his son, watching as the boy gripped the legs of one of the stools and pulled himself up, and was horrified to see that he was managing to lift his legs off the floor, swinging them onto the foot bar.

“James, No!” he said loudly. The use of their boy’s full name didn’t pass Katie by and she turned in her seat to see Jamie looking at his father before he let go of the stool and fell backwards onto his butt, the pout on his face reminding Steve so much of his wife that he had to stifle a laugh. Katie watched as he got to his feet and toddled towards her.

“He managed to get up onto the kitchen counter before.” Steve said as she picked him up and sat him on her knee. “What?” Katie asked, her voice high pitched as she whipped her head round to look at Steve “How the hell?”

“I know.” Steve shook his head. “I thought we could take him and Lucky out for a walk maybe see if that settles his energy.”

Katie checked her watch “Yeah, we could do. Maybe head to the park. If we go now then we should be back for his nap.”

“Or we can wait a while, and he can sleep in the buggy and I can take you for lunch?”

“Okay so that sounds even better” she grinned “You know, you’re not as dumb as-“

Steve never found out what he wasn’t as dumb as, because at that moment they heard a yell that made his breath catch.

“DADA!”

The parents looked at one another, a shit eating grin spreading across Steve’s face as he leaned forward across the table.

“Dada?” Katie asked, pointing at Steve, bouncing Jamie on her knee. “Dada!” Jamie babbled again, grinning. “Dada!”

“Guess that means I’m his favourite.” Steve teased, slumping back in his chair, screwing his eyes shut and pumping his fist in mock celebration, a smug grin in his face. It earned him a glare from his wife once he opened them and he blew her a kiss, shrugging.

He was pleased, however that Katie didn’t have to wait long for her turn. A few days later when she went into Jamie’s room to get him up for the morning he beamed at her and held his arms up exclaiming “ma-ma!” Steve watched his wife on the baby monitor screen and felt his heart swell to what felt like 5 times its normal size as Katie picked up their son, her eyes pricking with tears and held him tight.

*****

June 2021

Katie woke with a start, pausing for a moment, wondering why it was so quiet. It took her a second but then she remembered Jamie was at Tony’s, staying for a sleepover. As Emmy was on her field trip, Pepper and Tony had taken the boy to give Katie and Steve a night on their own, the first one they had had in a very long time. Tony had rung them mid afternoon to ask who on earth had taught him the word “whatever…”, albeit in Jamie’s pronunciation “tever…” and Katie had laughed, that one was firmly down to Emmy. He hadn’t quite managed the sign to go with it yet thought, despite her best attempts.

They’d taken full advantage of it too. Steve had gone into complete romantic overdrive, coming home from a meeting at the tower with a bunch of calla lilies for his wife and told her to get dressed up as they were going out. They’d headed into Brooklyn for a meal at a small Italian (Katie only checking her phone five times…which was an improvement on the twenty the first time they’d left Jamie with his uncle) and they’d had a great time. It had been intimate, and they’d teased each other relentlessly meaning when they got home they hadn’t even made it up the stairs before they’d been clawing at each other, desperate touches and kisses shared in the hallway before they’d both tumbled into the lounge onto the rug in front of the fire. Grinning to herself at the slight tenderness between her legs, Katie turned over and glanced at Steve who gently shifted in his sleep, a sure sign that he was slowly waking. She scooted closer and rested her hand on his chest, her smile widening as he unconsciously let out a soft sigh of contentment. His eyes were moving under their lids, and as her hand started trailing down over his stomach he took in a deep breath, finally opening his eyes and meeting her gaze just as her touch dipped below the waistband of his boxers. He let out a low groan.

“You’re awake early considering the kids are away.” he murmured, kissing the skin in the crook of her shoulder, his beard scratching her skin slightly as she continued her strokes, teasing him lightly.

"Yeah, force of habit” she whispered back, sighing as he kissed her neck again and again. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until she was pressed against him, his thigh between hers as he rolled them both over so she was nestled under him. His lips made their way to hers and he gave her a deep, languid kiss as she shifted so that her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her. Steve propped himself up with his left arm while his other hand went under the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, to her chest, his fingertips barely brushing against her nipples. She groaned loudly at his touch, and he was just about to warn her to be quiet, but then he realised he didn’t have to. With the knowledge that he really could make her scream, he hastily pulled the top over her head and his lips crashed back to hers, the kiss hot and intentional as her legs gripped him tightly in an attempt to get a little more friction between them. He went to tug at the waistband of her underwear, barely breaking his lips away from hers for a moment.

“You want me?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Please.” she said, aware of the desperation that flooded her tone and he let out a low growl, and she felt the tearing along one side of the thin lace garment he had hold of. She laughed into his mouth, remembering their first time together when he had done that as her fingers scrambled to push down his boxers as he repositioned himself slightly, gently working into her. Man and wife both let out a satisfied sigh as Steve’s hand grabbed Katie’s knee and hitched it over his shoulder, a move he knew drove her wild. She moaned loudly and her fingers dug into his arms as he starting pushing a little harder, a little faster, then faster, until he had reached a relentless pace making his wife curse and leaving her short of breath.

He slowed for a moment, making her look at him, letting out a noise of protest. “Don’t stop,” she begged, “Please Stevie.”

Grinning slightly he picked up the pace again, enjoying the noises she was making as she keened underneath him, her head pressing further back into the pillow a she gave another loud cry of his name before he felt her tighten round him, her nails biting at the skin on his arms. He continued to thrust three, four more times before the snake in his belly uncoiled and he jerked on top of her with a loud cry of his own and let go of her leg, collapsing onto her, his face buried into her neck.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her hands tangling into his hair and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Late night was it?” Tony quipped as Katie let out a yawn as she walked into his living room.

“Yeah, and an early morning” she shot back and Tony snorted, shaking his head.

“Dada!” Jamie giggled as he tottered over from where he had been sat on the rug with Morgan and Pepper “Mama!”

“Hi baby!” Katie swept him up in her arms and placed a kiss to his cheek “We missed you.” “Nee!” He said gleefully and Katie frowned, and it wasn’t until he pointed to his uncle and repeated the word that she understood “Nee!”

Steve let out a snort “Uncle Nee. Suits you Tone.” “Shut up, Spangles” Tony raised an eyebrow as Morgan laughed.

“Uncle Pangles” the two year old quipped as if on cue and Steve let out a moan

“Did you teach her that?” he looked accusingly at his brother in law.

“Of course he did.” Pepper sighed, sweeping the small girl into her arms as she stood up, smirking at Katie. “You guys eaten breakfast yet or were you too busy?” Katie let out a snort “If there’s any going I won’t say no.”

Pepper handed Morgan to Steve as she was trying to reach him and he took her, tossing her into the air ignoring the wince from Tony as he did so, catching the girl expertly.

“This evening.” Katie answered. “Spoke to her last night, not sure she wants to come home.” “I remember your field trip to San Fran.” Tony mused, raising an eyebrow and Katie snorted.

“Yeah, so do I.” She smirked “I was telling Jen about that the other month. My first hangover.” “Ok, can you stop that now!” Tony rounded on Steve who grinned and rest Morgan on his hip and she pouted

“More!”

“Sorry, Moo.” Steve apologised and she gave a huff as he placed her on the floor and she headed off to find her mum in the kitchen. He arched an eyebrow at Tony who rolled his eyes.

“Dick.” he mumbled.

“Dick.” Jamie repeated loudly and Katie’s eyes widened. Steve looked at his son, utterly horrified, then to Tony who’s shocked expression was fast turning into one of utter glee.

“Oh you-” Steve glared at Tony as Katie bit her lip to try and stop her laughter “For f-“ he stopped himself, took a deep breath and pointed at Tony “You are an absolute…”

“Use your words, Old Man…” Tony grinned, delightedly and Steve’s jaw clenched as he turned so his back was to his son and raised his hand, flipping his brother-in-law off.

*****

October 2021

“Your daddy is gonna be soaked” Katie mused to Jamie as she looked out of the window “It’s absolutely pouring with rain.”

“Dada. Rain!” Jamie grinned, chanting the words back at her, ignoring the small piece of toast that was left on his plate.

Steve had gone for his morning run with Lucky before he headed out to the first of the two support groups he was running that day. Steve had held the first one in September in an old hall, and at first Katie was worried that more people would attend to take their anger out on him and had wanted to be there to help but Steve refused point blank. Her concern wasn’t completely unfounded as a lot of people were angry at first, but no one else hit him, and he said it was actually therapeutic for him too, as he could answer questions, and speak honestly and openly about how he felt about the situation too. Turns out Steve was a natural born councillor as well as a leader, and by the end of the month he had 6 different groups running through the week at different places across Manhattan. It was good for him and he was relishing the fact he could still be useful. Of course, there was one downside, that delectable beard had, once again, for the third time been vanquished. Because Steve was recognised as ‘Captain America’ at those support groups, or at least a version of.

And “Captain America doesn’t have a beard…”

The back door opened, and Katie could hear the man she was thinking about stepping into the small utility room off the side of the kitchen.

“Ahhh thanks, pal.” his voice dripped with sarcasm as she heard Lucky’s tag tinkling along with the noise of the dog shaking “That’s great. really great.” Katie chuckled to herself, picturing his face as he continued to grumble

“Could have waited until I got a towel.”

“DADA!” Jamie yelled at the sound of his dad’s voice, squirming in his seat, breakfast abandoned. “Ucky!”

“Hey, buddy” Steve called back, as Katie undid the straps from his high chair and they made their way into the utility area where Steve was drying Lucky off as best he could with an old towel. Lucky took the opportunity as soon as he could to scoot away and past Katie into the kitchen.

Jamie glanced at his dad and excitedly wiggled his arms and legs as Steve shrugged off his sodden waterproof running jacket.

“Hi!” he screeched “Hi Dada!”

Steve’s bright smile light up his face “Hi, son.” He kissed him once on both cheeks and he squeaked happily before Katie set him down and he toddled back over to the play-mat in the corner of the kitchen.

“What, no kiss from my baby mama?” Steve asked, sweeping Katie into his arms and rubbing at her neck with his cold, damp face.

She squealed and tried to pull away, to absolutely no avail and Steve continued to laugh and use her as a drying cloth.

“Ew! You’re cold and damp and sweaty!“ she wrinkled her nose.

“You don’t seem to mind my sweat when I’m chasing your fourth orgasm.” he said cheekily, dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper, making her laugh.

“That’s different.” “How?” he snorted

“Because that’s sex sweat, this is run sweat.” she shrugged in his arms. Steve laughed loudly “I didn’t realise I had different sweat pores for different activities”

“I didn’t mean that!” she rolled her eyes “I mean that I’m not sweaty now, I’m warm, and dry…” “Yeah, and if you give me a moment I can rectify that situation…”

“Dirtbag.” she grinned, his chuckle vibrating into her chest. "Go get showered and warmed up. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

"Kiss first, Kitten.” Steve muttered before he leaned forward and pressed a his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and despite herself, Katie leaned into his arms, her hands snaking up into his damp hair.

“Kissy!” Jamie giggled, and they broke apart to look at the tot who was sat on the floor clapping “kissy, kissy!”

“I’m gonna kill Emmy” Steve muttered, and then he spotted Lucky expertly stealing the toast that Jamie had left on the highchair, before sidling out of the room with his precious cargo before he could chastise the animal. “And that damned dog.”

Katie laughed and gave him another peck on the cheek before he swept past his son, giving his hair a quick ruffle. She leaned back against the counter and smiled, before she sighed. They’d had almost three years now of pretty much non-stop domestic bliss, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something surely had to come along at some point and turn it all upside down. That was how things went for them, right?

“Mama!” her attention flew back to her son as he toddled over to her and held his arms up “Hungry.” “Again?” she rolled her eyes before she smiled and with one arm placed more bread in the toaster. For now, she pushed any worries she had to the back of her mind, content to just enjoy what they had for as long as they had it.