#i want him to take me somewhere and rail me on the hot sand

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

~

Part ii: August

~

For the hope of it all

~

The river was crowded, but the pier was their own.

Happy Birthday Harzy, was spelled out in big balloon letters, turning in the summer breeze, backwards and bumping.

Logan stood at the waterfront and looked at Leo’s—as it was mostly Leo’s—handiwork. Lobster rolls and soft-shell crab buffet, corn bread and iced tea. Chilled white and orange wines. Summer dresses fluttered and crossed each other as people talked, making new patterns, and Logan let himself settle into the laughter. He had a bad habit of taking peace and worrying it away. He didn’t want to do that today. He wanted to watch Finn enjoy himself, his team, his family. Logan had spent every one of Finn’s birthdays with their Harvard team, and then there had been that one, horribly absent year when Finn had been in Gryffindor and he hadn’t—not yet. He wanted to watch the way Leo put his long arms around his friends, in the same way his mother did, warm and strong. Logan wanted to watch without feeling that sharp tug of worry. He couldn’t have even said what he was worrying about. It was vague.

He’d done a lot of watching this summer. He loved it to the point of never wanting to do anything else. Finn and Leo were alike to each other in more ways than Logan would ever be. Whatever rapid-fire conversation they were in the middle of would often quickly leave Logan behind, but Logan didn’t care as long as he got them stumbling and laughing over each other to try and explain it to him—a book, a TV show, some sort of video game. He knew they liked telling him about it, and Logan loved watching them love things—including himself. Logan had never thought of himself as acting as a grounding point before. That had always been Finn or Leo. He always felt too wild in his own head, unsure, reserved. Vague. But Leo had said it to him this summer.

“When me and Finn lived together, we stayed up so late just talking,” Leo had said one early morning on the beach when they had left Finn sleeping. Logan wouldn’t be quick to forget the feeling of just being able to hold Leo’s hand for so long, in such an open space.

Leo had kissed the back of his palm too many times for Logan to think he’d be forgetting it, either.

“And you and I did the same thing, you know?” Leo continued. “On roadies.”

“Playing cards,” Logan smiled. “And our sundaes.”

Leo nodded, and his smile grew a little softer. He stared at his toes digging into the sand. “And I knew how connected you two were. Well, I guess not how connected, but I knew you two were better friends than anyone on the team, even Sirius and James. Even if you didn’t always act like it. I feel like good friends can do that, handle distance and snap back into place.”

“And?” Logan remembered asking playfully. “Which long talks were better?”

Leo just laughed. “No, no. Not better. Finn talking is like…wild. Like wind. Talking to you is stillness. I love both. The point is, that was…that was my connection. To both of you.” He had cleared his throat then, and given Logan’s hand a squeeze. “My mama always says if you can talk to someone forever then—“

“They’re yours forever,” Logan finished. “My maman says the same thing.”

Leo’s answering smile had been blinding.

An arm circled his waist, another pressing right over his heart.

“Nice party,” Finn said softly into his ear, and Logan only had a moment in that warmth before it was gone, wary of prying eyes. It made Logan miss France, and their brief stay at his mother’s family home that summer.

No one had known them there, and Leo had adored the markets, cooking elaborate meals while Finn and Logan had sat on the counter, watching him and loving him. They’d eaten out on the stone patio, overlooking the sea.

Finn looked a little like he had there, cheeks sun-hot. Logan wanted to reach for them, as he had then, cool them with his thumb. Finn smiled, making the sun-kissed skin crease a little.

“What?” he asked.

Logan shook his head. “Remember that picture?” he asked. “The one of us. It was on your wall at Harvard, you were standing behind me, hand on my chest.”

Finn’s mouth quirked, and he nodded. Logan hesitated for a moment, realizing that Finn was wearing his NASA t-shirt, the same one he had worn the day he’d left Harvard for good, leaving Logan behind. Logan stared at the logo, then looked away, back up to his brown eyes. Bambi, the boys at Harvard had called him.

He took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know where it went. I know you packed it, took it with you, but I can’t find it. Do you know…”

Logan trailed off, as Finn had taken out his wallet. He set his beer on the pier ledge, flipped the worn leather open, and slipped out a folded piece of paper, thick, and well-loved. He held it out to Logan, biting his lip, and then leaned back against the railing, as if waiting.

Logan let the photo fall open in his fingers, and exhaled a shaky, steadying breath. There was a laugh in it somewhere.

“Oh,” he said.

“Didn’t know you were looking for it,” Finn replied, and trailed his fingers, cold from his beer, over Logan’s wrist, then reached up to fiddle briefly with his necklace.

Logan traced his eyes over the same, gaudy string lights in the photo, their same smiles—the one Logan knew he wore more freely these days.

Logan folded the picture closed again, and slipped it back into its place in Finn’s wallet.

“You want it, Lo?” Finn asked.

Logan shook his head. “I like that you have it.”

Finn stretched out a foot, ankle hooking around Logan’s, pulling him a little closer again, to stand nearly between his legs.

“I had it all that first year,” Finn smiled. “On my own.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

Finn grinned, singing off-key. “Pretending he’s beside me—”

Logan groaned, shoving his shoulder a little. “Okay, D’accord, I walked into that.”

Finn laughed loudly, and then swung his arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Let’s go find Le, get more food.”

They strode towards the tables.

“Hey!” Evgeni called out. He was standing with Olli and Jackson, his looming form leaning over the pier. “Ten bucks I jump!”

“Kuns, you don’t want to swim in this river,” Finn said.

“He’s going in whether you pay him or not,” Jackson shook his head. “At some point tonight.” He grinned, the scar that ran down one of his cheeks dimpling when he smiled. “Bet you twenty.”

“Nado,” Evgeni gasped, slapping his arm. “We split. Even.”

“No fucking way.”

Logan let Finn lead him away from their bickering, towards where he could immediately spot Leo, standing with Remus and Thomas. Logan felt everything just—soften.

“Do you ever think you could just find him?” Finn asked softly, the hand around Logan’s shoulders gesturing in Leo’s direction. “I mean, even if you couldn’t see him. You know?”

“Ouais,” Logan said, voice just as soft. “I know.”

Leo was mid-laugh when he spotted them, too.

“I gotta say,” he said as he met them halfway, hand on his hip, sunglasses in his hair. “I did a pretty damn good job.”

Logan huffed out a laugh. “You did. Really good.”

Finn snorted. “Way to take the credit, Nut.”

“He deserves it,” Logan said. “I was just here.”

“Lo’s the gift master,” Leo swung his arm around his shoulders. “And I’m the food master. Sounds about right?”

Logan patted Leo’s chest. “Are you going to jump in?”

Leo raised his eyebrows, squinting out at the water. “Do I want to swim in this water?”

“I’d swim if it was with you two,” Finn said. “I’d risk the murky monsters of the deep.”

“You gotta wait twenty minutes after eating,” Leo said. “And I haven’t tried the soft serve yet. They have swirls, they have mango, I mean, come on. I did so good.”

Finn laughed. “And I’m going to kiss you stupid later.”

“And I’m going to hold you to that,” Leo leaned in a little. “Birthday boy.”

They found Sirius holding a cone out to Remus by the machine, and Remus wrinkling his nose.

“C’est la vanille!” Sirius was laughing. “Quoi? Really? You don’t like vanilla?”

“You do?” Remus shook his head.

“Y’all we’ve caught the couple splashed on the front of every magazine in a, dare I say,” Leo paused, “fight?”

“First it’s pineapple pizza, now it’s vanilla,” Remus reached up, pushing Sirius’ chin length hair out of his eyes. “What did I sign up for?”

“Carrying his hair ties for him, apparently,” Finn reached out and snapped the tie around Remus’ wrist.

Remus rolled his eyes, and Logan thought Sirius might have blushed. When Logan reached up to poke at his cheek, he slapped his hand away and Logan laughed.

Sirius dragged Remus away towards where Julian, Remus’ little brother, was calling them over to the beanbag toss, and, momentarily tucked behind the shade of the soft-serve station, Logan felt Leo pull the both of them closer.

“Pretty good beginning to the end of the summer,” he sighed, licking his own cone.

“It was a damn good summer,” Finn grinned. “Hey, give me.”

Logan watched Leo hold out his cone to Finn, and agreed. It had been more than a good summer. It had been a perfect summer, and something in that made Logan stupidly worried. Sun and salt, and cold wine, and hot bodies pressed together as the moon rose. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, tucked between the two of them, and tried not to ruin this peace by thinking about all the times peace hadn’t been there.

This was Finn’s day. This was their season. Logan tilted his chin up and let the sweet mango of Leo’s ice cream sweeten his thoughts.

~

Noelle wasn’t at Finn’s party, and Thomas could feel it. He fiddled with the new, thin gold hoops she’d gifted him, barely circling away from his ears, the left one with a pearl strung along.

I’m the lucky one who found you, she’d said.

And he’d had to go and ruin it by trying to be funny, even while tears were pressing up as close to him as she was.

What does that make us, oysters?

She’d laughed, looked happy, but Thomas wished he’d said something else. He wished he had gotten something for her. He wished she wasn’t so far away.

I miss you, he tapped out on his phone, and that felt perfectly honest. Simple. Enough.

The three dots popped up and then went away. Thomas tried not to let it mean anything. She deserved to be busy. She worked just as hard—harder—than he did. Still, something like relief flooded through him when a long string of pink hearts answered him.

I miss YOU, T baby. Good party?? Tell Harzy happy bday for me.

Thomas blew out a breath. Will do. Say hi to the girls for me.

“You look like sad sunshine,” Natalie’s voice came, and he looked up to see her walking towards him, taking a sip from a honey colored beer with a lime wedged into it.

“I’m a little sad, Sunshine, like it or not,” Thomas laughed softly, pocketing his phone. “Where are the boys?”

“Canoodling,” Natalie sighed, hopping up onto one of the stools beside him under the umbrella. She had her long blond hair swept up into two french braids. “We’re both getting in our last drops of Alex, I think.”

Thomas nodded. “Hey, I never really asked, Nat. That just…happened this summer, or what?”

Natalie smiled. “Well, when I met Kasey, he hadn’t made it big yet, still on the Rangers farm team, but Alex had been on the Rangers for…maybe about a year? I can’t quite remember. I think Kase had only gotten called up a few times, so they’d met. But anyway, we start dating, two years later he gets a big boy contract with the Rags, and we get to know Alex. I saw him at team dinners only at first.” She smiled. “I was like, cutie, look at those freckles. But I had Kase, you know? I was pretty confused when I started looking a little closer. I mean, I was so happy.”

She pushed her sunglasses into her hair, leaning an elbow on the table and fiddling with a gold necklace at her throat that had the number 30 strung across the leather cord. Thomas wondered if she was going to add a 28 to that, Alex’s number, or if she’d get another one. He wondered if Noelle would want something like that. Maybe they could wear each other’s. He liked the thought.

“Well,” Natalie said. “I was confused until I noticed Kasey looking, but he wasn’t pulling away from me and I thought, hey…maybe this is something?”

“But that was how many years ago?”

Natalie took another drink. “No, yeah, nothing ever happened. Actually, I think they kissed once or twice. Roadies, you know? But Kasey gets traded, and then Finn arrived and we were like, wow, cruel joke.”

Thomas laughed. “I bet. But it meant Alex comes around again.”

She grinned. “That it did.”

Thomas held his drink up for a cheers. “Guess we owe those Cubs a lot.”

She clinked their bottles together. “Life’s weird. But, yeah, it happened this summer officially. Went to the O’Hara Hampton house, and I think we just loved being together. I forgot a little, how wonderful Alexander is. But,” she was smiling wildly again. “I woke up one morning and the boys had gone on a walk, they got back three hours later holding hands, Alex kissed me, and something changed. Maybe they worked through some history of theirs. We’re his now, he’s ours, whatever you want to call it.” She laughed. “Pretty good for a morning’s work.”

“Pretty good,” Thomas repeated.

“I’m worried it’ll be hard, though,” she sighed, chest rising and falling dejectedly. “He’s all the way in Florida and we’re here, together.”

Thomas glanced back down at his phone. “Yeah.”

“I bet that makes me sound like a snob to you,” she reached out and squeezed his hand.

He waved her off. “No, no, I just…we’re new, me and Noelle. Sometimes I worry that we’re too new for…for this.”

Natalie shook her head. “I think distance is distance. And, if it doesn’t work, it isn’t the physical space between two people. It’s a different sort of far away.”

Thomas tapped his fingers against his glass. “You just have something to say for everything, huh, Nat?”

She grinned. “Pretty mouth, gotta use it.”

Thomas snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

“Come on,” she said. “I’m going to whip your ass a ring toss.”

“Yeah fucking right.”

~

“Apparently they closed down a bunch of streets,” Remus was saying, still bleary-eyed and waking up as Sirius made the coffee. “That’s awesome.”

“It’s a parade. Of course,” Sirius said as he pushed the lid of their french press down.

Remus looked up to see him smiling and rolled his eyes, laughing, “Okay, sure, but it’s still crazy. They say it’s going to bigger than the Cup Parade was in June.”

That made Sirius’ eyebrows raise. “Really?”

Remus hummed in agreement, clicking his phone off and popping his back. “Well. I know Pride is in June, but I’m happy we get to do this, too.”

Sirius nodded, sliding onto the stool beside Remus with two waiting mugs. “Captain gets the Cup last. I don’t make the rules.”

Remus just yawned and let his temple fall against Sirius’ shoulder, closing his eyes as Sirius’ warm palm came to brush over his hair and neck.

“September is in two weeks,” Remus mumbled. “How the hell did that happen?”

Sirius poured their coffee and pressed a kiss against Remus’ hair. “You’ll be fine.”

“Hm?”

“I know you’re nervous for training camp. You’ve seen it a million times, though.”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed and sat up pulling his steaming mug close. “Seen it.”

Sirius laughed, going to the refrigerator for the milk. His hair was in dark, glorious tangles, and Remus vaguely wondered how much time they had before they needed to get ready.

“I meant,” Sirius leaned over the island and poured them both milk before capping it again and going for the brown sugar. Remus smiled when he realized that Sirius had picked that up from Remus’ mom, Hope. “I meant that you know it never comes across like…like some insane competition for spots.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “It is, though. I mean, not for the Sirius Black, but…”

“D’accord,” Sirius nodded. “Okay, okay. But you know what I mean?”

“I’m not worried about the team,” Remus said as Sirius came to sit down again. “I’m worried I’m not going to make the team.”

Sirius shook his head, set his mug down, and all but pulled Remus off of his stool to gather him close. Remus mumbled something about cold coffee, but smiled as he let himself be kissed good morning, kissed calm, kissed loved.

“I’m not worried,” Sirius whispered, and kissed him some more.

Remus had barely shut his car door—having opened it to cheers—before he was getting an armful of his little brother.

“Oof,” Remus grunted, but squeezed him, lifting him off of his feet. “Nice outfit, Jules.”

Julian jumped back, his Lupin Lions Pride jersey actually fitting him for once. “Thanks, dad found it for me.”

“He insisted on wearing it,” Hope Lupin smiled as she walked up. “But you’re going to roast so tell me when you want your t-shirt, baby, it’s in my bag. Hi, Re.”

“Hi, mom,” Remus let her kiss his cheek a few times.

“Salut,” Sirius grinned from beside him. Remus watched them hug, warmed more deeply than by the heat. Hope patted Sirius’ chest where a faded rainbow twelve was printed on his t-shirt. Remus was going to steal that thing as soon as he took it off.

“What a party!” Hope grinned. “Is someone grilling? Thought I smelled it.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they got this restaurant downtown to bring BBQ.”

“Is there ice cream?” Julian said, huffing. “I’m hot.”

Sirius plucked at his jersey jokingly. “Mais, ouais, it’s almost ninety!”

Hope laughed, and put a hand on Julian’s back. “I’ll get him cooled off. Your dad’s around here somewhere with Pascal. Meet you on the float in ten. And make sure you’re wearing sunscreen!”

Remus watched his family wind their way through the colorful, crowded streets, felt Sirius’ fingers lace through his own, and smiled.

The sun did beat down hot, but Remus didn’t mind so much, not when they were filed onto the float that was equipped with a red and gold Lions head roaring at the front and rainbow streamers at the back, like an extension of the mane. The Cup sat on a high pedestal between them, strapped in shining.

The crowd was wild. People were hanging out of the tall parking garage that lined one side. The pavement was painted in thick strips of rainbow in some places, and red and gold in others.

Gryffindor loved their Lions. It almost made Remus want to cry, seeing how happy Sirius was. Half of the team was on their float, some of them walking beside. Remus spotted Logan sporting a rainbow brimmed hat walking with Kasey and returned the peace sign Logan sent up.

“Everyone is decked out, man,” James shouted in Remus’ ear from beside him, Harry on his hip. He and Lily had returned in time for Finn’s birthday. He was wearing a Lions Pride shirt, and Harry had a tiny one to match and a sunhat that practically covered his entire body that Lily kept coming over to adjust. James grinned. “Damn. Good Cup Day.”

“It’s not my Cup Day,” Remus laughed. “But I do sort of feel like this is my day.”

James just smiled, pointing at people for Harry to wave at. “Maybe won’t have to make that distinction next year, eh? Look, Har, see the flags? You want one, bud?”

“Re,” Sirius leaned in, and Remus felt his hand on his back. “Want to walk a bit?”

Remus nodded, eyes finding where Leo, Jackson, Evgeni, and Olli were walking together, keeping time with the floats and talking to the crowd. Leo had a rainbow flag painted on one cheek, Natalie’s work.

Remus felt for his own hat, flipping the colorful brim backwards as he hopped down.

“Hey,” Jackson grinned, throwing an arm around Remus’ shoulders. Evgeni had one of Sergei’s daughters in his arms, chatting with the crowd. He wasn’t wearing Jackson’s rainbow-striped shirt, but it looked like one of the kids had stuck two stickers on one of his cheeks that he wasn’t bothering removing. Remus wondered if he was worried, about his family, or his country, like he had told Sirius. It sent a wave of thankfulness through him, the fact that he was here.

“Nado,” Remus hugged Jackson. “Jesus, seriously, what did you do this summer? You look fit, man.”

“You see him,” Evgeni called over, handing a sharpie back to someone wrapped almost entirely in a flag covered with glitter. “Stare in the mirror, in love.”

“I don’t,” Jackson protested.

Evgeni just shrugged, spinning Sergei’s daughter around. “I’m see you.”

“Well, hand some over,” Remus said.

Jackson just gave him a shake. “You’re going to make the team.”

“Maybe,” Remus groaned out a laugh, knocking him away.

“No maybes,” Sirius said, sidling up to Remus’ side and replacing Jackson’s arm.

“Sirius! Cap!” someone called, and Remus felt Sirius tense a little, as he always did in crowds, or media.

The person calling had short brown hair and seemed to have tailored a loose jersey of Sirius’ into a form-fitting dress. The sleeves were cut and hemmed by the twelves on the sleeves.

“Salut!” they said, accent stiff, and laughed. “I tried.”

That seemed to ease Sirius a little, and Remus tugged him to a stop.

“Salut,” Sirius smiled. “Wow, that’s my jersey?”

They nodded, eyes sliding over to Remus. “It is. My girlfriend was hoping to have a Lupin one so we can match, but…”

The girl beside her, black hair tucked up in a bandana, smiled and threw her hands up. “When are they stocking those! I have two hundred bucks I’m ready to drop, I mean, let’s go before I second guess myself!”

Remus laughed. “Oh man, I’ve been there.”

“With my jersey, ouais?” Sirius grinned was teasing as he signed an autograph and Remus blushed.

“Here,” Sirius took out his phone. “You can give me your phone number, if you’re okay with it, and I’ll get you one? Yeah?”

“Oh…are you kidding?” the girl put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I…yes, Cap, you can have my phone number, sure fucking thing.”

They moved along the crowd easily. Sirius grabbed the Cup at one point, walking it along for people to touch just as their entire team had in June. Remus stayed well away.

“No jinxes here,” an older man in a Lions Pride shirt laughed, his arm around his son. He held out his hand. “My entire family’s been Lions fans for generations. Glad to have you on the team.”

His son, the very image of his father, smiled and tentatively held out a sharpie. “Would you sign my shirt? I’ve seen your tapes and everything, I…you’re my favorite. I was thinking about getting out of hockey before you.”

Remus blinked. “I…” he took the sharpie, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. “I’m glad you’re staying. Are you a defenseman?”

He lit up. “How’d you know?”

Remus shrugged, smiling. “You hold yourself like one.”

“I hope that’s a good thing!” Remus heard Olli call from a little ways down.

He laughed. “How did you hear that?”

Remus signed the boy’s shirt, thanked him, and jogged a little to catch up with Sirius.

“I’ll take that,” Jackson grinned, and plucked the Cup from Sirius’ grasp.

“It’s my Cup Day!” Sirius laughed, but wrapped his arm around Remus instead. “Hi.”

“That was my first signature,” Remus said softly, to Sirius only, and Sirius squeezed his shoulders.

“The first of many.”

It was a bit of a blur after that. Natalie brought them ice cream and cold lemonade, which turned Sirius’ kisses even sweeter when they made it back home, out of the heat and stumbling, happy and sun-kissed. Sirius’ entrance hall was dark to Remus’ unadjusted eyes, and he focused on his palms, splayed over Sirius’ broad back. He yelped when a voice rang out from the living room.

“We’re on the couch!” Regulus shouted. “Just so you know!”

Sirius broke the kiss, looking flushed and dazed. “What…why?”

“I live here!” Regulus’ voice called back.

Remus suppressed a smile, and leaned his forehead against Sirius’ chest, trying to calm his breathing and any flush of arousal that had been beginning to stir up.

“Fuck,” Sirius swore. “How did he get home before us?”

“Who’s we?” Remus called out.

“Howdy,” Leo’s voice came.

Sirius sighed. “It’s my Cup Day.”

Remus gave his hip a short pat before walking down the hallway and rounding the corner to find Leo and Regulus slouched on the couch, AC on full blast.

“Right,” Remus nodded. “You’re suppose to be helping Reg pack for school.”

Regulus glanced up from his phone. “There’s twenty different gifs of you jumping down from the float and turning his hat backwards on Twitter.”

Remus blinked. “What?” He didn’t even remember doing that.

Leo nodded, crunching a potato chip. “And we’ve only been looking for ten minutes.”

“Huh,” Sirius said, turning towards the kitchen. He stopped, hesitated for a moment, and turned back. “Let me see.”

Remus huffed out a laugh. “I need water.”

“Donne-moi!” Sirius demanded of Regulus, grabbing for his phone.

“You have your own phone!” Remus made out Regulus’ reply in French.

Remus filled his glass, downed in, and was filling it again when Leo came into the kitchen, rolling his eyes and smiling.

“Thought I’d leave the brothers to fight. Can’t believe I used to be scared of both of them.”

Remus laughed, too. “Right?”

Remus watched Leo grab a glass, spinning his own slowly around on the counter. “Are you…”

Leo glanced up. “Hm?”

Remus took a breath. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but I know today must’ve been a little…” he took his hat off, the colorful bill bright against the dark stone of the counter.

Leo nodded in understanding, sliding onto a stool. “It wasn’t…hard. It was actually good to see all of the support. I could see it in Finn and Logan, too. Logan is nervous.” He nodded to himself. “More nervous than me and Finn. Understandably. I mean, you know how long he and Finn…” Leo shook his head. “I was happy he got to see that. And Finn was happy, I know, too. Maybe we’ll start making plans. I mean, this summer was just fucking heaven. Just being together. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

“Me too,” Remus sat on the stool beside him. They smiled at each other, then laughed. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“I am, too,” Leo grinned. “All right, I think me and Reg have to actually put his clothes in suitcases now.”

“Good luck.”

“That boy owns, like, five t-shirts,” Leo drained his glass and put it in the sink. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Remus grabbed a third glass and followed Leo back into the living room where they found Sirius leaning over the back of the couch, squinting at Regulus’ phone. He did a double take when he spotted Remus.

“Hey, where’s your hat?”

Remus snorted. “I’m not a twitter gif. C’mon, I need a shower.”

Regulus raised a teasing eyebrow. “And you need him for that?”

Remus stuck out his tongue. “Yeah.”

Sirius flicked the back of Regulus’ head. “Go pack.”

Remus tugged his t-shirt off on their way up the stairs. “That was wonderful, but fuck do I wish it wasn’t a thousand degrees.”

“I don’t know,” came Sirius’ reply from behind him as they entered their bedroom, followed by his hands on Remus’ hips and his lips against his neck. “When it’s hot, your hair sticks to your neck just…” he kissed just by Remus’ ear gently. “Here.”

Remus bit back a smile. “With sweat.”

“It’s handsome, I think.”

Remus laughed, turning in Sirius’ arms. He was summer tan and happy. Remus didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that grin, one that was more and more present lately. Sirius laughed and made small talk with fans who asked for pictures—even today, he had seemed to almost enjoy the crowds and the media. Remus touched his number twelve necklace. He brought it to his lips. “You’re handsome.”

They stepped into the shower together and stood in the peace and quiet of the beating down water, turned cool against their heated skin. Remus rested his head against Sirius’ chest, and smiled when he felt Sirius lace their fingers together. It wasn’t exactly a new thing anymore, but it still felt new. It had been that way when James, Lily, and Harry had first arrived home and Sirius had done it on the table between them at the restaurant, just as it had been early in June, when Sirius had done it while they waiting in line to board their plane.

Remus looked up, squeezing his hand, and Sirius bent to take Remus’ mouth against his own again. It was softer, but Remus felt just as giddy from the day’s events. A parade. A Cup Day.

He wanted one of his own.

“Love you, mon loup,” he smiled. “Thank you for today.”

Remus ran his hand over Sirius’ broad shoulders. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything,” Sirius whispered back. “You are part of me allowing myself things.”

Remus felt his expression soften.

“Heather explained it that way,” Sirius said. “I thought it was well put.”

Heather, the team’s sports psychiatrist. Remus had only actually met her a few times, but Sirius valued her highly, had called her a few times during the off season.

“I like it, too,” he said, and let Sirius pull him close again.

They threw the windows open to let the cooling breeze in once they were back downstairs, and Sirius put steaks on the grill for the two of them.

“Where’d Reg and Nut go?” Sirius asked.

“I think out with some of the boys,” Remus said, and followed as Sirius went back out to the patio. He notched his hip against the door frame. “Hey, do you want to go to the rink tomorrow? All this Cup talk has got me wanting to skate, like, now.”

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed. “With you? Always.”

Remus grinned and padded back over to the counter where the salad was waiting for dressing.

“I’m glad we didn’t end up having everyone over,” Remus said as he tossed it. “As much as I love them.”

Sirius hummed, sliding the screen door of the deck closed. He set the plate and tongs down before wrapping his arms around Remus.

“As much as I love them,” he repeated quietly, lips brushing against Remus’ neck. “I want you all to myself right now.”

Remus leaned back against him. “My thoughts exactly, baby.”

Sirius smiled against his skin. “Glad we’re on the same page. Vanilla hater.”

Remus pinched his arm. “Pineapple hater.”

~

Cole woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting down to his room from the kitchen—and Katie Dumais curled up at the foot of his bed.

He jumped a little, and then sat up slowly. It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t asleep, but that she was fiddling with a little charm bracelet, her eyes down.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, Katie.”

She looked up, and a grin lit up her face. “Mom says breakfast is ready. I didn’t want to wake you up, even though she told me to.”

He sat up a little more. “How long ago was that?”

Katie wrinkled her nose. “Maybe four hours?”

Cole blinked, and picked up his phone from his nightstand. It was eight-thirty. He glanced back at Katie.

“Can you tell time?” he asked slowly.

“Not really,” she sighed happily, and kept fiddling with her bracelet. “You still have rainbow paint on your face.”

Cole laughed, rubbing a hand over his cheek, where Lily Potter had painted a flag the day before, for the parade. Where the Stanley Cup had been.

It still all felt surreal to say.

“Okay. Um, tell her I’ll be up in a second, okay?”

Katie nodded. “Okay!”

Cole listened to her footsteps scamper all the way up the stairs before he flopped back down on his pillows and chuckled to himself. He gave his teeth a quick brush and followed.

“Bon matin,” Celeste smiled as she flipped a few more pieces of bacon onto a plate. “How did you sleep? I think that heat yesterday tired everyone out.”

Cole slid onto a stool beside Marc and Louis, Katie to his right. “Really good, thanks.”

“The air conditioner isn’t acting up again?” Celeste asked. “Logan was always having trouble with that thing.”

“It didn’t turn on right away, but I fixed it,” Cole smiled when she set a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and fruit in front of him, and then another plate with toast. “My mom’s big with her tool kit, so, I mean, if you ever need anything around the house, I know some stuff. Just so I can…help out. Thank you for letting me stay.”

Celeste beamed. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re not just letting you stay. We’re very happy you’re here. Someone your age shouldn’t be alone, especially with all the pressure that comes with this job. But I will absolutely take you up on that. You wouldn’t know how to build me some planters, would you? Pascal bought the wood ages ago,” she turned back to the sink, waving a spatula. “Always saying he will take care of it, and yet there it sits!”

Cole laughed softly. “Yeah, I can do that. Sounds good.”

“Well, good,” Celeste smiled, pulling her purse over her shoulder. “Now, Pascal is with Sergei for an ice session—which you’re always invited to, he says, by the way—I’m taking Louis to tennis, and Marc to space camp. Layla will be here soon, but do you mind looking after Katie until she gets here? Adele’s up in her room if you have any questions. She’ll know.”

Cole nodded, trying to swallow the eggs quickly. “Of course. No problem.”

Celeste smiled. “She loves you enough already, she’ll be no trouble.”

“She’s always trouble,” Louis mumbled.

Celeste tisked, but kissed his head. “Come on, up. Cole, you have some of the boys’ numbers, too, right?”

“Um,” Cole thought of Sirius Black’s number in his phone from when he called him. “Yes?”

“Good. I know you don’t have a car yet, and you’re always welcomed to ours when it’s available, but if you ever need a ride anywhere, I’m sure any one of them will drive you.”

Cole, for the life of him, didn’t think he would ever be able to bring himself to call Sirius Black up and ask him to drive him to, what, Target? Jesus.

“Right,” Cole tried for a smile and knew it came out nervous. “Thanks.”

Katie did turn out to be a pretty easy kid. Even if she did seem to switch activities at a rapid pace. She drew, and then she watched half of a TV show, and then she was hungry, but she did all of it herself. After less than 30 minutes she had parked both of them on the couch where they were stringing beads for necklaces.

“I’ll make you Lions colors,” she said seriously.

That had been Cole’s best—and only—idea. He glanced at the multi-colored kit. “What colors do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Cole smiled. “All right. What’s your charm bracelet?” He nodded to the small silver ring around her wrist.

“It’s from Tremzy,” Katie thrust her wrist forward. “He gets me one every one of my birthdays. There’s a hockey stick, because we love hockey, and an ice cream cone, because we love ice cream, and this is a book because we read together, and—”

There was the ding that told Cole that Layla had arrived, coming in from the garage, and Katie was off again.

“Hi,” Cole said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

Layla looked up from trying to put her things down and hug Katie at the same time. “Hey, Cole.”

“How’s it going?” Cole asked, feeling decidedly more prepared this time. Layla was in a green tank-top today, but her same shorts and gold rings.

“Busy,” she laughed. “I actually have my first orientation this evening, at the rink.”

Cole nodded. “Nice. I’ve never actually been inside. Well, not yet, I guess.”

Layla straightened at that. “Well…I’m driving over once Celeste gets home, just to see the place first.” She seemed to take a breath. “Do you want to come with?”

~

They didn’t have full gear, but the chilled rink was a relief against the sweat they worked up anyway. Remus borrowed a helmet—his own hadn’t been sent out yet—and used his old, worn in CCM skates.

“I can still beat you in these,” Remus panted as he skated backwards, tapping the puck back and forth and trying to gauge which way Sirius was going to dodge first.

“Oh, I know,” Sirius said, then lifted his right foot and went left.

Remus knocked the puck out of his stick towards the boards, and it sent them both chasing it.

“You use that trick too much!” Remus laughed, it echoing across the empty rink, as he shoved Sirius against the glass, the puck trapped between his skate blade and the foot of the boards.

“What about this one?” Sirius said, and turned to press their mouths together. Remus smiled into it, and it was enough to allow Sirius to steal the puck back.

“No!” Remus laughed as Sirius carried the puck expertly across the blue line, winding his stick up and taking a deadly slap shot, notching it perfectly in the upper left corner of the empty goal.

He dropped to a knee, sliding into a celebration before wrapping around the goal with a final whoop and crashing back into Remus for another kiss.

“Wanna run plays?” Sirius asked. “I’ll be your center if you’ll be my winger.”

Remus smiled as they reset themselves, pushing the used pucks towards the boards. “That might not happen.”

“Maybe I have more pull than you think.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Not that much, baby. What’s going to happen is I’ll start on the fourth line, go from there. Anything else and every journalist in the city would go batshit crazy.”

Sirius just scooped another puck into the goal, then hooked his arms over his stick, the body behind his neck. “Wouldn’t be our first time causing that.”

Remus smiled. “True.” He nudged Sirius towards center ice. “Face-off.”

Sirius took his helmet off to push his hair back. “Let’s do it.”

Remus was just tugging off his shirt, smiling as he listened to Sirius rattle of plans for the season, when he heard two voices laughing from the hallway. Sirius’ smile dropped, and he narrowed his eyes at the door.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said. “Hey, where are we meeting the guys for—”

“Should we check out the locker room?” one of the outside voices said—higher. “Do you think it’s open?”

“Non,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, grabbing for the back of his own shirt.

The door opened hesitantly at first, then wider, revealing Layla and Cole.

Cole flushed, and Layla’s mouth opened, then closed.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Sorry, we didn’t think…”

Remus glanced at Sirius, but when he didn’t say anything, just pretending to fiddle grumpily with his bag, he waved them off.

“Hey, we were just swinging by for a quick skate. It’s not our locker room,” he smiled. “Well, not only ours. You guys have the same idea?”

“Not skating, maybe,” Layla replied, twisting one of her braids around her finger. She looked up at Cole, who still looked like he thought he was in the wrong place, and smiled. “But neither of us have really gotten to look around yet, so, we thought we would.”

Remus smiled, using his dirty t-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. “Nice. Well, maybe Cap and I can give you a tour or something some time.”

Sirius glanced up. “Marls does that.”

Remus tried to send Sirius a look with his eyes, but Sirius just glanced mournfully towards what Remus thought might be the video review room.

“Well…” Remus said hesitantly.

“We’ll keep looking around,” Layla said quickly. “See you guys around.”

Remus watched them to make sure the door was closed, then turned and punched Sirius in the arm.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked.

“Grumpy.”

“I liked it just us,” Sirius mumbled. “I thought we could plan plays or—or watch tape.”

Remus laughed, pressing his forehead to Sirius’ chest. “You’re such a baby.”

One corner of Sirius’ mouth raised. “So?”

“You wanted the rookie to stop making moon eyes at you,” Remus said. “Here’s your chance.”

“D’accord,” Sirius’ grin spread as he gathered Remus closer by his hips. “But will you keep making moon eyes at me?”

Remus leaned up for a gentle kiss. “I’m going to ask them to lunch. Wait here, Captain, you scare the rookie.”

“I don’t,” Sirius sighed, and Remus pushed out the locker room door.

“Hey,” Remus jogged to catch up as Cole and Layla turned at his voice. “Us and some of the other guys are planning to get lunch. How about it? You, too, Layla.”

Layla blinked. “Seriously?”

Remus laughed. “Team lunch isn’t a team lunch without the PT. Or, one of them, at least.”

Layla grinned. “Right. Well, I’d love to.”

Cole nodded quickly. “I—yeah. Yeah, cool. That rooftop place again?”

“You’re already picking up on team favorites, I see.”

Cole smiled sheepishly. “Kuny makes us go there every time.”

“It’s the sushi,” Remus laughed. “He’s a man obsessed. Well, cool. Meet you there in twenty?”

Layla jingled her keys. “See you there.”

“Sushi,” Evgeni all but moaned as he picked up a piece of yellowtail.

“Jesus, Kuns,” Jackson said. “You can’t eat all of that by yourself.”

Evgeni was chewing with his eyes closed. “You don’t know.”

“All right,” Thomas leaned forward, folding his sunglasses into his shirt in the shade of their umbrella. “What do we think this season, boys? Predictions, let me hear them.”

They all looked to Sirius first, who leaned back in his chair, one arm over the back of Remus’. He took a sip of his iced tea.

“Rangers,” he said finally.

“Uh-huh,” James nodded.

“Same,” Layla said, taking a spoonful of her miso soup.

“Caps, maybe,” Sirius continued.

“Definitely,” Remus said.

“I’m feeling Avs?” Thomas offered. “And I don’t want to say Snakes, but…yuck.”

“More like Vegas,” Remus said.

The table paused, and Remus just shook his head.

“It’s true,” he said, glancing at Cole and Layla, trying to decide if they’d noticed the shift in the air. He had to be able to talk about this. About him. "They’re deep this year.”

“Yeah,” Cole said softly. “Greyback’s killer.”

Remus felt the entire table tense and felt immediately guilty. Cole didn’t know what he had said, and Remus all but watched him wonder if he’d said something wrong.

“And us,” Thomas grinned, slapping Cole on the back. “We’ve got Lupin now. We’ve got Reyes.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but laughed. He tried to express his thanks silently, and Thomas winked at him.

This felt different. He had known it would. Team dinners would be his dinners now, not a friendly tag-along invite. Driving to practice with Sirius, they would go through almost the same routine, not split off for his office and the locker room. These were his teammates. He’d win and lose with them, and they with him, in a way they hadn’t before. Sitting there, in the sunshine that was going to turn colder, Remus looked forward to a year of this.

#vaincre lumosinlove #coops #wolfstar #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #o'knutzy #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #Leo x Logan x finn #Thomas walker #Noelle tremblay #Kasey Winter #lumosinlove ocs #Alexander O'Hara #Alex O'Hara #Jackson Nadeau #o'darwin

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 3

This one is a bit shorter. It’s entirely fluff, nothing bad happens here. I felt bad for my man, I really did. Scott really channeled Ethan Winters in that last chapter.

Also, Jimmy is here!

Once again Scott awoke to something touching his face. This time it decidedly was not water, although he kind of wished it was due to how dirty he felt. Scott groaned when he opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by harsh sunlight. He remembered making it to the desert and presumably passing out. Was he dead?

“Scott?”

Holy shit. Someone just spoke.

“Hey dude, can you hear us?”

Two mystery people hovered over his line of sight. Their faces were unrecognizable due to being backlit by the sun.

“Hey Scott, can you open your eyes?” Someone spoke softly to him. He reached up slightly with his hand and they took it with a loving squeeze.

Back on earth now, Scott recognized a half of his company.

“Is that you Jimmy?” Scott muttered through half lidded eyes, “It’s so bright, I can’t see your face,” he apologized quietly.

Jimmy giggled with a twinge of sadness, his hand traveled up to cup the other’s cheek, “yes it’s me dear. Grian is here too. I’m going to bring you home in no time,” he reassured.

A primal chill went down Scott’s spine. It sent his exhausted brain into an instant overdrive, causing him to loose his breath quite suddenly.

“No..” Scott said. His voice was hoarse and laced with something like fear.

“They’ll kill me,” he whispered pleadingly, “they’ll come back for me and this time they’ll just kill me! Please don’t, they’ll kill us,” he repeated until he had no more air to talk with.

Jimmy’s eyes were wide with shock, he’d pulled his husband into his lap and off of the rough sand so that Scott’s head was off the floor. A hand fruitlessly rubbed circles on his arm in an attempt for comfort, which seemed to be lost on poor Scott.

“Okay- Scott? Count to ten with me will you?” Grian stopped observing and pat his disheveled friend on both of his shoulders to get his attention.

“Deep breath in, then out,” he guided, and Scott followed him shakily.

Grian made Scott do it ten times before shifting to counting up and down from ten. Scott was able to breathe again and he instinctively turned his head away from the sun. Jimmy placed a gentle hand over his eyes.

Scott tuned out of the conversation in favor of slipping into a comfortable numbness. He could infer the pair were considering their options to get him home. Jimmy couldn’t carry him alone, Grian definitely couldn’t.

The sun in the desert was harsh during the summer months, thankfully it was wintertime and a cool wind swept over the land. Scott focused on the calming sound of a breeze on the sand as he fell asleep once more.

*****

“Careful with him Scar, you’ll snap his neck,” Jimmy complained from somewhere under Scott’s line of hearing.

“Dude shut up, you’re being paranoid,” Scar chuckled back at him.

“I’m really not. Don’t let his neck hang like that,” Jimmy replied.

“Guys stop. His neck is perfectly fine,” Grian audibly hit someone on the arm as he scolded them.

*****

The uncomfortable feeling of grime against sheets greeted Scott when he awoke. It looked like late afternoon judging by the light coming through the curtain (which was a white sheet clipped over a window). He sat up, instantly recognizing his whereabouts.

The Sand Castle.

So it wasn’t a dream, he thought, he actually had made it out. Glancing down at his hands, he observed a myriad of bandages adorning his hands and wrists. They must have been pretty messed up. The rest of his body was still covered in dirt and sand, hence why they stuck him in a cot instead of a bed. Figures.

His sheet was also looking worse for wear, so when he stood up on mildly shaky legs he bunched up the ruined blanket and took it with him to go find someone. Making extra sure to hold the railing on the stairs, he came upon a window and took a second to look outside. The desert was expectantly barren, everyone must have been downstairs.

A muffled conversation became clear when Scott made it to the living room. Scar, Grian, and Jimmy had taken up residence on a single couch. They must have been waiting for something to smelt and conversing frivolously with the resident Enderman. A window near the door was propped open to let in the cold afternoon air which dulled the heat and mild stench coming from the furnace. It must be iron, for Scott could taste the faint metal in the back of his mouth.

He leaned on the doorframe casually as all the eyes in the room turned to him.

“Hey look whose awake!” Scar greeted him with an arms open gesture, “the dust man himself,” he added with a smirk.

“You really are quite dirty,” Grian agreed.

Jimmy almost threw himself from the couch, he went to hug Scott but was pushed away to arms length.

“They’re right, I am very gross right now,” Scott cautioned, but his husband would not be deterred.

Jimmy pushed the other’s arms down and pulled him close, leaning his chin on top of the other’s head gently. Scott sighed and gave in as well.

A unanimous decision seemed to be made when Scott was sat down on the couch. Scar, Grian, and Jimmy hovered over him awkwardly with worried faces. Unsure what to ask him and what not to ask him.

“Uh, I’m assuming you have questions?” Scott broke the silence.

“Yes. Many,” Grian said, “I suppose we should start with where you’ve been for the past three days,” he supplied.

“Three days?” Scott replied slightly horrified.

“That’s not good,” Scar said in reference to Scott’s lack of awareness.

“Well okay, let’s start with where you’ve been right? I mean I think we all know the answer, but still”, Jimmy sat down next to Scott. Probably for moral support.

“Right. Yeah, I got kidnapped; if it wasn’t obvious,” Scott said. Everyone nodded with an I knew that expression.

“They whacked me over the head with a stick in the woods and then,” he paused and looked at his hands. They were shaking, so he curled and uncurled his fists a few times.

“They threw me in a hole and left me there,” he said.

“Wait like an actual hole? Underground?” Scar asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, underground, it was like a cell made of cobblestone. There wasn’t any light, and nobody came to visit me either. That’s probably why I didn’t know how long I was down there,” Scott confirmed.

“What so they just left you in there to die?” Jimmy butted in with a concerned inflection.

“Man that’s messed up, but hey this is good news! Now we have a valid excuse to take Dogwarts down right?” Scar said.

“What?!” yelled Grian, “this is not good news at all. What is wrong with you?”

“We are not building another bomb,” Jimmy said.

“We are completely outnumbered,” added Grian.

“I am not picking another fight with those guys. I think we’ve messed with them enough, look at where that got us,” Jimmy agreed.

“Guys shut up!” Scott said. He stood up from the couch. Everyone seemed to eye him with speculation.

“I need to go wash up,” he excused himself, taking the bedsheet with him out the front door.

*****

Around the back of the base there was an area where the mountain dropped off into a small pond. Scott slid down on the loose sand until he reached the dock where the Red Desert kept their stash of gunpowder. The sky was empty and quiet, eerily so. The only sound came from a slight din of insects and the babble of water lapping against the legs of the dock.

Peaceful.

Scott pulled off his boots, dumping a mound of dirt from both of them before continuing to strip down to his shorts. He waded into the water and submerged himself. He could see the cloud of dirt coming off of him when he ran his fingers through his hair.

Scott stayed under the water for a while. The muffled ambience calmed his nerves. He allowed himself to cry for a moment, then returned to the surface.

“Wow, I didn’t think you were coming back up,” Jimmy said from above him.

Scott yelped with shock, spinning around to face the other.

“Don’t do that!” he scolded with no malice, but he splashed some water in his direction.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Jimmy pleaded and laughed as he was bombarded with cold water.

“Whatever. Were you just standing there watching me?” Scott asked.

Jimmy shrugged dismissively.

“You creep,” Scott splashed him again.

Jimmy made to reach down and get Scott back, but the ladder grabbed his hand when it was near and pulled his unsuspecting husband headfirst into the pond. Jimmy seemed to have already dressed for the occasion and was also wearing his shorts and a T-shirt, so there was no real harm done to him besides his meticulously styled hair.

Scott leaned on the dock to prevent himself from drowning in his laughter. Jimmy resurfaced and a long string of water flew from his now messy hair as he flung it from his eyes.

“You…” Jimmy growled, sending a playful spritz into Scott’s eyes.

“You,” Scott said, “were asking for that,” he teased.

“Ugh. Well I’m glad you still seem to be yourself after all that. Don’t be taking it out on me though,” Jimmy joined the other on leaning on the dock.

“No promises,” Scott responded jokingly, but his smile quickly faded from his face. He pulled himself out of the water and onto the dock, a puddle forming under him where he sat with his legs in the water.

The lake was a deep blue color, just barely able to see the bottom through the dark shadows cast by the mountain in the now setting sun. Scott’s reflection gazed back at him. Cleaner than last time, his bangs were plastered to the front of his face by the water, which had turned his hair into as deep of a blue as the lake below him.

He felt rather exposed. Still afraid that Dogwarts was hot on his trail, they’d no doubt realized he had escaped them.

This was not the life he wanted. Constantly being on the run, feeling unsafe at home, and fearing that your presence could be the reason the people you love get hurt. Scott looked at his mangled hands, his fingers were irritated and red from where they poked out of the bandages; and for the first time in a long time he felt pain.

Not the pain that comes when you catch your finger in a doorframe, or the pain from a bad trip down the porch steps; the pain that grows in your chest when you feel like a burden. When you’ve had to be picked up and glued back together by another person one too many times. When you’ve spent your life running, only to fall into someone else’s arms and suddenly feel safe for once.

When you’re terrified of what will happen if they’re not there anymore.

“Hey,” Jimmy said with a reprimanding tone, “you’ve got that look on your face,” he warned.

Scott threw him a side glance, “what look?”

“That look. The look you get when you start overthinking your life instead of talking to someone about it,” Jimmy recited.

“I hate when you do that,” Scott sighed.

“Do what?”

“Know me,” Scott deadpanned.

Jimmy hoisted himself up and sat next to his husband. He tamed the strands of hair from the other’s eyes, tucking them behind his ears.

“I brought some soap. I was planning on lending it to you before an attempt on my life was made,” he said, leaning backwards and coming back with a bucket and a bar of light orange soap. It was lightly used, it smelled of citrus and mint.

“I feel like I never knew anyone before I knew you,” Scott said as he examined the bar of soap up near his face.

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Jimmy was the first person Scott had seen after entering the border.

“Sometimes it makes me afraid that I know someone so intimately. It makes me feel dangerous,” he said.

“Dangerous?” Jimmy took the soap from his hands and filled up the bucket with fresh water.

“Yeah. In the way that loving something so completely makes it easier to get to me. I’m afraid of people finding out that the way to destroy me is destroying you,” Scott explained.

“That won’t happen,” Jimmy replied, “I can’t even count how many times we’ve almost died and been just fine. Remember that TNT?”

“Oh my god don’t even remind me,” Scott covered his face.

“I am reminding you, because it was cool! I mean I’m the one who took out the Red King without dying,” Jimmy bragged.

“On accident!” Scott reminded him.

“Nobody needs to know that. Also I got him first,” the other added. Scott kicked water at him.

Jimmy put a hand on Scott’s back and pushed him into the lake.

“Hey,” Scott said.

“Stay right here,” Jimmy directed and positioned Scott between his knees so that he could reach his hair easier.

“Don’t let that indestructible mindset get to you,” Scott said. He admired the ripples on the surface of the water.

“Maybe if I believe it enough it’ll be real,” Jimmy said with no particular conviction, focused on making sure he adequately scrubbed his husband’s hair.

#mcyt #3rd life smp #3rdlife #flower husbands #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #grian #goodtimeswithscar #3rdlife smp #cas types

[brelione]

Protect You (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Domestic Violence,blood

Request:Hi! can you write a jj maybank fic with prompt #10, y/n is friends with the pogues and just recently broke up with her kook boyfriend. She starts getting closer with Jj and then her ex wants to get back together, she doesn’t so he chokes her and punches her. She tries to hide it from the pogues but jj thinks the bruises on her neck are hickies and gets defensive. Y/n continues to lie but then JJ makes her cry and she tells the truth ?? (Love ur blog v much❤️💕💖)

So this isnt exactly what you wanted but I tried so I hope you still like it <3

Loose long sleeve shirts,baggy sweatpants and high top sneaks.You were limping ever so slightly,thinking that none of them had noticed.You had been alarmingly quiet and smoking weed pretty much every 20 minutes.Nobody asked you why you were acting this way.Kie had just thought you were on your period,sharing the information with the boys,You had been staying at John.B’s and refusing to go back to your house in case he showed up there.

It was somewhere around 7 in the morning when JJ woke up,going to the porch to smoke.You were already there.Your hood was up,hair in a messy know on top of your head.You had a few dark bruises on your neck,the fake metal chain you owned dangling off your neck.You were leaning on the railing,blunt between your lips and your eyes closed as you tried to calm your thoughts with the drug.The small scar on your cheekbone had become irritated as it always did when you had cried.Being in this state meant that you hadnt noticed JJ’s tall figure yet.You let out a sigh,a small cloud of white smoke leaving your mouth.JJ came up behind you quite. 

“Morning.”His voice whispered groggily.You pulled up your hood so the fabric covered your neck,the material stopping behind your bun. “Morning.”You answered quietly,wincing as his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder. “Are you okay,sunshine?”She asked.You took the blunt back between your lips,nodding slowly. “You’ve been smoking a lot lately.”He observed,sliding his hands under your hoodie and onto your hips.You grabbed his wrists tightly,pulling them off your body.He frowned.

 “What’s wrong?”He repeated his previous question,sounding more serious this time. “I dont like when people touch me.”You answered as smore crawled out of your mouth and into the air.He slid between you and the railing. “You love hugs and cuddles.You always have.Im gonna ask one more time.What’s wrong?”He asked again.Worry and anger course through his veins.He hadnt really seen sunshine in three days.He had seen (Y/N) but not his sunshine that he had known and loved since seventh grade.

You sighed,avoiding his eyes as you exhaled smoke,the cloud hitting his clothed chest.You went to take another hit but he took it from your hand,making your eyes widen. “What the hell,JJ?”You asked,tears beginning to form in your bloodshot eyes.He sighed,looking down at you.You were silent as you thought about what you could possibly say,what excuse you could make.You held the bottom of your hoodie,thinking about what you were about to do. “Don't tell anyone.If you tell anyone ill kill you.”You told him.He nodded nervously. “Im serious,not even John.B”You spoke softly,worried that someone would hear you even though you were ten feet away from the house.He nodded again.

You hesitated,pulling off the hoodie with a small hiss.His heart dropped,feeling sick.Yellow and black bruises cover your torso,scratches and scabs and cuts all over your ribs and stomach.You pulled at the drawstrings of your pants,letting them fall into the grass.Your knee cap looked out of place,a large cut across your thigh.He couldn't say anything,tears coming from his eyes as his jaw fell. “Dont cry,im fine.”You forced a grin on your face.His fists clecnched. “Who the fuck did this?”He demanded,hand going to the gun in the waistband of his jeans.You sighed,shaking your head. 

“This is why I didn't want to tell you.”You mumbled. “Dammit!What the fuck does that mean?You cant just let me fucking protect you!Ill go to fucking prison!Doesn't matter if you tell me or not ill blow that son of a bitches brain out!”He shouted as you took steps backwards.Tears were going down his face.Someone had hurt his sunshine,ruined you.No one could make bruises like that with just their fists which meant whoever done this had a weapon.

 “JJ,just listen to me.Im fine.I had an accident and it was my fault.I feel fine.Everything is fine.”You spoke softly,trying to calm him. “Bullshit!”He shouted.Pope and Kiara came down the back steps quietly,trying to figure out what was going on.Kiara screamed when she saw you,causing you to turn around and see what she was screaming for.Now JJ could see the long cut across your back,the moon shaped cuts on your neck and the little bruises all over your shoulders. 

“Kie-im fine.Im fine-just go back inside.”You squeaked out,becoming overwhelmed with everything going on.JJ held his gun tighter. “JJ look at me.Im breathing and standing.Im fine.”You spoke,voice becoming shaky as you spoke to the blonde. “Shit,(Y/N).I think you need stitches for that.”Pope stared at the deep cut.You quickly shook your head,trying to gain control over the situation again. “No-no,Pope thats stupid!Im fine.Go back inside.”You spoke desperately,tears rolling down your face and neck.

JJ looked at the bruises one more time before slamming his hand against the railing.You sand to the ground,head in your hands as John B started shouting for all of you to go to the hospital.You hadnt even noticed him come outside.Kiara was crying,Pope was about to vomit,John.B was panicking and JJ had kneeled down in front of you,trying to talk.You couldn't hear anything he was saying,any sounds except for your heart beating and your sobs.He needed you to go to the hospital,desperately trying to get through to you.He gently lifted your chin up so you’d look at him properly. “Sunshine,you need to get in the van so we can take you to the hospital.”He spoke gently,his fingers tracing lines along your temple and jawline gently. 

“Im fine.”You insisted,trying not to cough. “You’re not fine-your knee is fucking twisted,your back is slashed and youre covered in bruises!You’re not fine!”John B shouted,completely losing his cool.You huffed at the commotion,ignoring the hot tears and the pounding in your head. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”You tried pulled the hoodie from under JJ’s knee. “You cant just put your hoodie back on and pretend everything is fine.”He refused to move.You looked up at him,offering a small smile. “Everything is fine.”You repeated again.His jaw clenched.

 “What the actual fuck?Come on,you know you're not fine!You know you’re not!Just let someone help you for once in your damn life-its either you get in the van and you let us take you to the hospital or I will hunt down whoever did this and shoot them in the fucking face.What’s it gonna be?”He asked.You just shook your head,more tears coming from your eyes.Someone else always got gurt,why>Kiara slowly came up to you,kneeling down and letting you cry into her shirt.You just kept apologizing,crying.POpe ran inside,coming out with a first aid kit and a rag,yelling for John.B to get rubbing alcohol and ice. “Hey,hey you gotta let us help you.”The dark skinned boy spoke quietly,sitting by you.

You let out a loud sob,JJ bit down hard on his lip and tried not to cry too.Everything was a blur as a rag got put in your mouth while Kiara held you tight.Pope was trying to clean the slash on your back with rubbing alcohol,your screams and sobs muffled by the rag. “Guys!Give her a minute!”JJ shouted.Pope took the blood stained,alcohol drenched towel and tossed it onto the porch.Kiara slowly let go of you,allowing you to lean forward.It was unspoken as JJ opened his arms and you wrapped your arms around him as you cried until you couldn't anymore,your eyes puffy.He didn't touch you at all,not wanting to hurt you and remembering you saying that you didn't want to be touched. “Was it...was it Lucas?”He asked.You gave him a weak nod,breaths still shallow from crying so hard.His hands became fists but he tried not to get angry again for your sake.

He made quick eye contact with John.B.They would go to his house and beat the devil out of him later.He rested his head against your shoulder,kissing your collarbone lightly. “Did he hit your head?”He asked.You just held onto him tighter.What a fucking mess this was.You sighed,moving away from him. “How long has this been going on?”John.B asked,sitting down. “A couple months.”You answered,finally coming clean. “Jesus,sunny,why didn't you tell any of us?”He asked.You shrugged,wincing at the pain.

 “Thought you guys would be mad at me.”You mumbled,causing the group to go silent. “You should come inside and shower.”Kiara suggested.She held her hand out to you,you got up with a low groan as your knee made a cracking sound.You pulled your clothes out from underneath JJ,limping back inside with Kie.She turned on the shower for you while you stared at your body in the mirror. “It doesn't hurt...he didn't hit me that hard.”You ran your fingers along the bruises. “He could've killed you.”Kie reminded you. “Its fine,Kie.I bruise easy anyways.You should see Lucas,I kneed him right in the dick.”You gave her a small smile before hesitantly stepping under the hot,flowing water.

You let out a sharp squeak as the blood hit the water,coloring the floor a faded murky red. “Im going to grab you some clothes.Will you let me bandage you up later?”Kie asked.You nodded,watching the blood go down the drain and try not to get your ahir wet.You heard the door open around two minutes later,too tired to open your eyes.Everything just felt heavy. “Why didn't you tell us?”A masculine voice asked.You could identify the voice as JJ’s.You opened your eyes partly,looking over to see him leaning against the sink with clothes under one arm and a towel under the other.

 “You never asked.”Was all you could think of,hand shaking as you turned off the water.You held onto the wall for support,shocked at how weak you were.You felt JJ wrap the towel around your shoulders,holding his arm out for support.You held on tight to his for arm as his other hand went to your waist,ready to catch you if you fell.You were trembling slightly,gripping his arm so hard that it was beginning to lose color. “I've got you baby girl.Take your time.”He spoke softly.You nearly fell as you stepped onto the small rag on the tile floor.The towel still hung on your shoulders,covering your breasts.

He slowly dragged the towel down your body,careful as the material grazed your injured thigh,dragging it back up to pat your neck dry.He kissed your forehead lightly,letting your naked body lean against him.In any other situation it would be all of his dreams and fantasies come true but he couldn't think about anything sexual in this moment.He was helping you,comforting you. “Baby.”He mumbled quietly.Neither of you really knew why he called you that,it just came more naturally than your name.He called you by Baby,Babygirl,Sunshine.Pretty much anything but your name.You could realate.You had nicknames for the others,words you would use instead of their names.

Pumpkin,Sweetheart,Darling,Love.But only JJ got to be called Love.It was something special for only him.You hummed quietly,listening to him. “I’ll hurt him,if you want.”He offered,waiting for your answer.You shook your head,moving his chin so he was forced to look at you. “Don't be so angry,Love.Karma will get him eventually.”You answered softly,pulling him down so you could kiss his nose. “I just wish I could protect you from everything.”He sighed,his bottom lip quivering.You pulled him closer,pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. 

“I know.But you cant and thats okay.”You replied before pulling the clothes from the bathroom counter,trying to figure out how you could slip on the shorts without making your thigh cut bleed again.He noticed your struggle,taking the shorts from you and assisting in pulling them up your legs,helping you with the T Shirt as well. “I love you.”He whispered.You nodded,squeezing his hand. “I love you too.”You answered.

@nas-marie-loves-u @28cnn @sexytholland  @yuxsh06   @ifilwtmfc  @cherryobx @poguestarkey @n1ghtsh4d3-67  @poguestyleskye @judayyyw  @sunwardsss @meaganjm  @outerbongs  @copper-boom  @httpstarkey  @maybebanks​ 

If you’d like to be tagged in all future JJ imagines/headcannons/series comment with a heart,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Pope imagines/headcannons/series comment with a smiling face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Rafe imagines/headcannons/series comment with a frowning face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Kiara imagines/headcannons/series comment with a question mark and if you’d like to be tagged in all future Sarah Cameron imagines/headcannons/series comment with a plus sign.If you’d like to be tagged in all Kelce content coment with a “>” and if youd like to be tagged in all Topper content comment with a “%”.Or if thats too complicated you can just comment whose name you’d like to be tagged in.

#jj maybank #jj maybankxreader #jj maybank imagine #jj x you #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #obx jj

[countthelions]

hellO, fancy seeing you here! may i have ✂ ✂ snippets of To Have and How to Rest? i may be juuuuust a lil bit invested now 👉👈

ahaha ilu!! very much friend!!

To Have, Grillster champion au where Grillby is already a champion of a coliseum known as the Underground where - due to a series of spoiler events - monsters fight to the death. Grillby himself is rather, unfortunately, used to the carnage - until Gaster is brought in and upends everything to something new and exciting and filled with a lot of love. [an idea thrown in my court by Silver that has expanded to be its own Thing that I love with my full heart]

“Hey spark breath!” Even with the distance, it’s clear exactly who shouted his way. Still, Grillby has to blink in surprise while all the newcomers twist their heads and subconsciously clear a space for that skeleton to mark him as their opponent. Unperturbed by the guards trying to break the line of sight between them, they’re definitely staring straight at him, all glares. “Yeah you, I can hear you! Why don’t you come closer and we’ll see who cracks when I’m done with you!”

Teddy sputters into a laugh in the shocked silence, before bursting into a cackle, “Oh he’s a regular firebrand!”

Grillby’s jaw is probably on the floor, something new and unexpected making his flame hot enough for pieces of it to flutter off in the small breeze.

“Teddy, distract the guards for me.” He’s gotta chase those sparks.

“What, no, I want to go to bed on time tonight.” Teddy squints at him keenly, abruptly serious as she spots something in him. He can hear her smile as bright as his own curiosity. “Why?”

“I gotta meet them now, c’mon.” He’ll explain better later. He’s already got one leg up on the railing, swinging himself over with ease, hitting the sand at a run. Oh, this’ll be great.

How to Rest, dnd fantasy world where monsters won the war and are now living on the Surface, Gaster and Grillby are both incredibly old but take centuries to find each other. Grillby's a war vet, Gaster is a bored scientist tasked with taking down a dragon. Dnd party commences when they find each other and shenanigans occur [created when my friend Gabe said "what would Grillby and Gaster be in a dnd setting" and somehow hyper-focused me into writing 16 pages of rambles that's now expanded into four separate gdocs with increasing levels of organization and continuity]

It's not the thunder that wakes Grillby. Even with only the flimsy tent canvas between him and the storm blowing by them, some part of his soul knows he'll be safe beneath it. Perhaps it knows the skeleton beside him won't let him be extinguished, the same part recalling a monster - not an elemental, or perhaps they were? not fire, whoever they were, just another fragment of sand in his memories now - or maybe a few, all of them piled into the various tents together, weathering the seasons with whatever sort of community they could nail together as they were sent place to place to keep the humans and their machines at bay. Not much was going to interrupt sleep that pulled on old memories like that.

It's a whimper that wakes him.

A quiet, half formed noise that hits him straight between the eyes, like a finger flick snap that tells him to be up, to pay attention, to fix it. His outstretched arm meets nothing when he shifts onto his back, empty space beneath it where Gaster tends to finally collapse into for the evenings is well, empty. Sleep gums up his mind, but Grillby knows that isn't right. He just heard him a moment ago, he's got to be - something hits his boots - somewhere? Outside?

He pushes himself up by the arm that's supposed to keep Gaster from wandering in his sleep, staring at the freed flap of canvas that smacks against his boot again, then past it. Gaster?

#long post #wahhh thank you friend ;; you're such a gift my gOSH #syncopation was me going: idk if i can write long fics i've never really done that before #and these two are me going: okay maybe that /is/ something i can do #literally i found undertale last year and my brain went: alright son time to level up as a creator #and boy howdy i certainly have #grillster #lionwrites #undertale fanfiction #undertale au

[bobathirstaccount]

The Bargain

Boba x fem!reader, established relationship, Post-Sarlacc Boba

TW: unprotected sex

You ask Boba to treat you like one of his bounties “back in the day.”

Translations

Cyar’ika - Mando’a for darling/ sweetheart

Mesh’la - Mando’a for beautiful

***

The dust made it hard to pretend. You turned your head to the side and spit out some sand. He didn’t have to throw you face down in the desert, you thought.

You had started at the center of Mos Eisly. He had given you a 15 minute head start, then stalked you through the city. The chase had been exhilarating. You snuck from cantina to cantina, from ally to ally. You lasted about half the day, but you figured he was just being sporting. When he’d finally picked you up, he had made a scene.

You had been huddled in the corner of a cantina with a Spotchka, watching everyone who came in. A vice-like hand closed over your shoulder, causing you to jump up and scream. Spotchka had gone everywhere. He’d thrown you down on the table and slammed binders on you. He’d drug you out of the cantina while you struggled and screamed. He’d drug you all the way back to the speeder, then tossed you on the back unceremoniously. He had spoken little, manhandling you roughly. Then he had dumped you in the sand upon your arrival at Slave 1.

A large hand squeezed around the back of you neck, pulling you to your feet. He shoved you forward, pushing you up Slave 1’s gangway. Once inside, he had magnetically fastened your binders to the wall, leaving you to stand there on your tippy toes for awhile. When he returned, he took the gag out of your mouth.

“Please, please let me go,” you begged, crying a little.

“The bounty on your head is too high to do that.” He focused on fixing some small thing.

“But I haven’t done anything!” You wailed.

“No one ever does.”

You tried a different approach, “I have friends, and credits, I can get you things you want...”

He shook his head, “What I want is to deliver my bounties.”

You try the last thing you can think of, “When was the last time you fucked anyway?” He didn’t even look over, “I told you, you’re worth too much to let go.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” He turns to you, and studies you for a moment. “No.” You glare.

“Just give me a head start? 30 minutes?”

He snorted, “30 minutes is enough time to get off world.”

“Fifteen?” He stood and walked over to you, stopping within arm’s reach. He reached a hand out to touch your breasts. You tried to twist away from him. He grabbed the binders, and pushing himself into you he bit your throat savagely. You cried out in surprise and pain. Maybe a little pleasure. “I can do whatever I want with you. You’re my bounty now.” He gently slide a finger along your jawline to emphasize that. Then he dropped it and went further into the interior of his ship.
When he returned within your line of sight, you tried again. “Please, just a head start... Please, I’ll do whatever you want...” you said breathlessly. He considered you again. “Anything?”

You gulped and nodded.

He approached you slowly. When he was inches away from you he stopped. He ran a light finger from your collarbones down to your groin. He slipped his fingers in between your legs, grabbing you.

“This is going to be a pricy pussy,” he tightened his grip. You let out a noise somewhere between scared and turned on. He began to pet you through your pants. You twisted, moaning softly. He reached up with his other hand and undid your binders. You fell, slumping over a bit. He propped you up against the wall. You put your hands against his chest, pushing away. He brushed your hands away and used a foot to widen your stance. You feel his hands creep around either ass cheek, and then he lifts you up, pressing you against the wall. He grinds his already hard cock into you. You squirm against him. He held you still and continued to grind into you. Finally he stopped, pulling back and letting you slide to the floor. He waited for you to pull yourself to your feet.

“Strip for me.” He twirls your hair with a gloved finger. “Slowly.”

You gulp and look up at his helmet for a moment, before dropping your gaze. You slowly slide off your jacket, then your sweater. Next was your tee shirt. The only thing you had left was a bra. You started to undo your pants, sliding them down slowly....

You stood naked before him finally. He pushed your hair back behind your shoulders, caressing your shoulders as he did. You shudder. He appraised you for a moment, then, picking you up he turned and took you further into the ship. He sat down in the observation room with you in his lap, straddling him. He looks at you, somehow able to imply expectancy from behind a helmet. You look down at his pants, then back up at him. He nods.

With shaky hands you start to undo his pants. He sighs contentedly. You struggle for a moment, but then his already hard cock springs out. He grabs you by the back of your skull and pushes your head down onto his cock. You readjust uncomfortably as his shaft enters your mouth. He immediately gags you and you struggle under his grip. You gasp, tears streaming down your face when he lets you come up for air. He gags you again. Finally he pulls you by the hair back up into his lap.

”Ride me,” he gruffly commanded. You sniffle back mucus and tears and position him under yourself. You slowly slide down onto him. He moans. “Cyar’ika,” he mumbles. You shush him, smacking him on the side of his helmet. He snaps back into character. “Harder,” he grips your hips painfully and pulls you down. You start to bounce up and down, guided by his unyielding grip. For a moment there is only the sound of you two fucking. Then he says, “Turn around.” You stop, standing up. He twirls you around and pulls you back onto his cock. You yelp at the sudden intrusion. He grabs your thighs and spreads your legs. Then his hands travel up to your hips. He squeezes your curves. He urges you to start fucking him. You bounce up and down again. In this position he is hitting all the right angles in your pussy. You start to edge towards orgasm. He must notice, because he slides a hand down to your clit, where he rubs circles. You are so close to cumming. He pulls out and removes his hand. You cry out, frustrated.“So hot for a merc?” He asks teasingly. You say nothing, breathing raggedly and anticipating penetration. He stood up, both sliding back into you as well as pushing you over a table. Your hips hit the edge of it. He spread your legs wider and railed into you. You try to grab ahold of the table to no avail. You groan, punctuated by his thrusts into you. He grabs you by the throat and pulls you up into almost a standing position.

You whine. His hand travels down from your throat to your tits, stopping to massage them appreciatively. You try to lift an arm from your side. This earns you getting both arms twisted behind your back and your cheek slammed back into the table. You stayed prone there, gritting your teeth as he fucked you.

“Such a tight pussy. This might be worth the trouble after all.”

You try to say something, but he flips you over on the table and pulls your ankles up. He places them on either shoulder. He uses one hand to hold your hips in place and runs the other one from your cheek down your body to your pussy. He inserts two gloved fingers, swirling them. You groan, trying to lift your hips. He holds you in place.

“So wet, little one.” He plunged his cock back into you. You yelp. He is still for a moment, then starts to fuck you deep, lifting your ass off the table with both hands. This angle is extremely intense, and your hands shoot out, trying to find something to hold onto. You are unsuccessful.

He pulls out and drops your ankles off either side. You fall forward. He grabs your chin with his hand. “Lick the tip.”

You find yourself on your knees, almost eye level with his cock. You tentatively stick your tongue out, swirling it around the tip of his cock. He groans loudly. “Now take all of it.” He thrusts into your mouth, gagging you. Tears stream down your face as you take his cock over and over in your mouth. He suddenly pulls out and pushes you onto all fours on the ground. You hear him get down behind you.

You feel two strong hands on either hip. They gently rub your ass and hips before a vice grip takes ahold of you. You feel him penetrate you and moan. He pulls you back against him as he starts to fuck you. You scrabble, trying to get away. He holds you fast and fucks you mercilessly. A hand snakes its way between your legs and starts to play with your clit, making light circles. You whine, wanting more pressure. The hand disappears. You whine again, trying to buck your hips. The hand comes back, ghosting pressure on your clit. You almost start to cry. You feel yourself on the verge of orgasm and grind yourself against him.

“Such a needy little pussy,” you hear the huskiness in his voice and know he’s close. The fingers return again, rubbing frantic circles over your clit.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” your pussy starts to clutch around his cock. He keeps the pace steady, not letting up on your clit either. Your orgasm is so intense you do actually start to cry a bit. Finally you are spent. He pulls out and you feel a hot sticky mess hit your ass cheeks as he groans loudly.

You collapse onto the floor a shivering mess. Strong arms lift you and stand you up. He holds you close to him and keeps you standing. You bury your head into his chest, and feel his helmet lightly knock you on the head, the equivalent of a kiss.

“Was that good, mesh’la?”
You smile, “It was incredible.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, but you kept taking it.”

You smiled and looked up at him sinfully. He tilted his helmet slightly down to look at you better. Finally you pull away.


“But did you have to cum on my ass and back? Babe, come on. Now I need a shower.”

“What? That’s what I’d do if you were a bounty.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow and meet his playful expression as he pulls his helmet from his head.

”Can I join you in the fresher?”

You smile and nod.

#boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #boba x you #boba x reader #boba fett smut #boba fett x y/n #star wars smut

[frostsinth]

A Line in the Sand - Pt. 1

A commission for the lovely @ivymemnoch​, a continuation of her Monster Match Devaraj the reptilian monster, which you can find HERE.

Ok, so I love Devaraj, and I think he’s a dorky-dork who doesn’t realize quite how dorky or large he is. I hope you guys like him too! Keep an eye out for more adventures between him and his new “ambassador”.

Want your own Monster Match? DM me for commission prices/wait times. Check out my MasterList for more stories. And otherwise, just keep on keeping on! 

He finally fell silent, and I stared at him. Dumbfounded. My mouth opened and closed uselessly a few times, and he waited patiently. I tried to wrap my head around my swirling thoughts, but found it obscured by more fog than the steam that filled the sauna.

“I… I don’t even know your name!” I protested finally, and was surprised to find I was actually considering his offer seriously.

His toothy grin returned. “My name is Devaraj. Shall we be on our way?”

....

I stood quietly to the side, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. The main door opened, and I hastened a glance over, pulling his scarf to further obscure my face. But it was just another patron, stumbling about drunkenly. I watched as he paused, looking about as if trying to orient himself, then staggered towards us.

I slid a little closer to the horse’s side, ducking my head as the drunkard passed us by towards his own mount. Calling as little attention to myself as possible. Devaraj took little notice of him, simply adjusting the saddle and straps as he readied for departure. I wished he would hurry; he moved with such languid calm, whereas I couldn’t seem to sit still. It was almost frustrating. While I had to admit the dark orange scarf he had wrapped about my head and neck before our departure from his private room did seem to keep all but the most curious eyes from me, the old bath house was still crawling with guards. And they were only getting more agitated as time snaked on.

I shifted again, my eyes darting about for perhaps the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, before returning my attention to his mount. His horse was huge, a practical colossus that dwarfed both of us and was likely much more suited to field work that long distance travel. The big gelding snorted repeatedly, tossing his head and flicking his tail at me each time I moved. As if he hadn’t made up his mind yet about me. Suddenly, I heard a THUNK of something heavy being dropped and spun, hands up defensively, to find the staggering drunk.

“Hey!” Cried the man in surprise, having skidded to a halt and now staring slack jawed at my new companion. “What in the nine hells??”

He had dropped the saddle he had been fetching in his surprise, and glanced down at it stupidly. Yellow eyes turned to consider him, long red tongue flicking out. The man’s own eyes widened even more, and I saw him draw a breath.

“Here you are, sir!” I exclaimed quickly, darting around and gathering up the saddle before he could make any more fuss and draw unwanted attention to the stables. “You seem to have dropped this!” Carefully, I spun him about, which despite his larger bulk was easy considering the amount of liquor wafting off him.

“Dats a damn-” He started to say, peeking over his shoulder.

“A damn fine night!” I interrupted, clapping his shoulder. Guiding him over to the stall he had initially approached when he had first passed us before realizing he was missing a key component to his departure. “Don’t let us keep you from enjoying it!”

He looked down at me, blinking stupidly. I noticed a small pouch at his belt, and my hands itched. The familiar tinge of excitement nipped at my gut. As he shook his head in disbelief, he staggered. I caught him roughly, as if with great difficulty, and used the opportunity to relieve him of the little coin he had left. The light and quick experience of my nimble fingers meant he didn’t even notice the exchange. Chances are he wouldn’t until late tomorrow, if he ever did. I tucked the pouch into my own clothes, hoisting him back up.

“Strangest thing…” He mumbled as I helped him right himself.

I steadied him, helping him take a final step and drop the saddle on the gate. Worried he might still raise an alarm. But he rubbed at his face and heaved a sigh. Seeming to have already forgotten the scaled man behind us. I sent a silent prayer for the blessing that alcohol stupor was for me at that moment to whatever deity might be listening.

“Come, hotblood.” Devaraj’s thick voice carried easily through the drafty barn, and I patted the man on the back one last time. He seemed content to stay put, leaning over the railing. Breathing deeply with sweat on his brow.

I glanced about warily again as I skirted over to the reptilian man, but no one else seemed to be paying us any mind. He mounted the big barrel chested gelding with a light, bounding leap, tail slapping into place behind him on the beast’s rump. The horse shifted and tossed his head with a snort and started forward almost before his master had fully settled. I wondered how hard it would be to keep pace with the gelding, and readied myself for a long night. It was as good a way as any to make my escape unnoticed. I briefly contemplated how long I would have to keep up pretenses before giving him the slip...

A gasp escaped my mouth as I suddenly found myself snatched from the ground as the big horse trotted past. I had been so distracted with my cautious search I hadn’t fully noticed their approach. And I had certainly not expected the scaled man to be able to so easily scoop me off the ground. I wriggled in the air only briefly before I was plopped into the space in front of him on the saddle. My face flushed hot as I found myself pressed to his chest again, my shoulder against his sternum, and swallowed hard in an attempt to dampen my suddenly dry mouth. At least this time he had a little more clothing on, I told myself.

Odd clothing at that. Less suited to the chaotic weather patterns of the region and more to a place of hot sun and long days, which only raised more questions about him. His tawny colored tunic was rough, woven loosely into a light and breathable material. It sagged low at the collar, reaching almost all the way to his navel (if he’d had a navel; I suddenly couldn’t recall the smooth, soft plated scales of his abdomen being interrupted by any such nub). His top was sleeveless, and the arms unhemmed, but he had thrown a long, ripped grey cloak about his shoulders upon our exit. It smelled of sand, and was not so long to hide his thick tail which still stuck out the bottom. His trousers were darker, thicker, with worn leather patches inside the thighs to ease the rub of long days in the saddle. They came to just below the arch of his hips, accommodating the head of his long tail, but he had another dark ruddy orange cloth that wrapped around his hips multiple times.

He took up the reins with both hands now and spun us about, his big, bare arms encompassing me and further obscuring me from view as he spurred his mount on out of the dark lit yard. There was a shout from somewhere behind us, and my heart leapt into my throat to keep company the lump forming there. But a few breaths later, with no sounds of pursuit, I started to relax. And finally had a moment to fully assess my own situation

My seat was precarious at best, and the jostling, springy gait of the large horse had me bouncing up and down irregularly. I wasn’t used to riding, let alone sideways with both legs hanging off the same direction, and gripped the horn of the saddle so tightly my knuckles looked bone white. Despite my best efforts, I still found myself sliding down.

“Easy there, hotblood.” Came that thick voice, and his arm hooked around me. Yanking me back into place. “I would hate to pay severance on your first day if Nur accidentally trampled you.”

I was surprised to find his tone sounded… cheery. Perhaps even teasing. I chanced a glance up at him, and his yellow eye flicked down to meet me over his scaled cheek. 

“Nur?” I echoed, sounding a little dumbstruck.

Devaraj neatly tucked one scaly arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he passed the reins to that hand. I stiffened as he leaned over me, his torso coming ever closer. Now freed, his opposite hand came around and patted the bulky side of his mount.

“That would be this old bloke here.” He explained before leaning back and passing the reins back to that hand. “He didn’t have a name when I purchased him, and hasn’t objected to this one as of yet.” He shifted in the saddle, and I drew in a tight breath as he rolled his shoulders back. He settled his arm in a casual, relaxed embrace around me, and used his thick legs to steer the big horse along the pitted road. “I suppose you come with your own name, yes? Though if not I would be pleased to select one for you as well.” He reached up with his free hand, tapping one claw on his long chin. “I think ‘Sera’, for you.”

“I already have a name.” I shot back, a little irritated. 

What did he think I was? Some sort of pet? I shifted in place, but despite the unease I felt at his touch, I couldn’t help but admit that his arm around me steadied me, and I no longer slipped and slid about. I begrudgingly settled, deciding I was grateful to ride along. Though I hoped we would be procuring a second horse soon. Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. I would be leaving his company as soon as I was able.

“Hmm? Oh. That’s disappointing. I thought ‘Sera’ would be lovely as a name.” He did actually sound disappointed and his chest hissed as he gave a deep sigh. “What shall I call you instead then, hmm?”

“... It doesn’t matter.” I reconciled softly after a moment, suddenly feeling strangely exposed. As if giving him my name made it all real. It also occurred to me I couldn’t remember the last time someone had even asked me my name. “You can call me ‘Sera’ if you’d like.”

I peeked through the gap between his elbow and chest, but the sauna and the town beyond was already almost out of sight. All I could see was the fading, bobbing light of the lanterns in its yard. And those too were already quite small. Like fireflies, though it was far too chilly a night for them.

“As you wish.” He replied, nodding his chin lightly. “I think the name ‘Sera’ fits you well. It is a respectful title in my home tongue.” His mouth hissed pronouncedly around the ‘s’ of the name and I almost shivered as the sound hit my ear.

“And where is that?”

“Hmm?”

“Home.” I clarified, looking down at my hands. Trying to ignore the proximity of his broad chest currently brushing against my shoulder.

“Ahh, yes.” He shifted in his seat again, and the hairs on the back of my neck raised as I sensed his fierce eyes settle on me. “I am from Kaoru, a city in the desert you humans call Sandfall.” He tilted his big head to the side. “And you?”

I stiffened, swallowing hard again. “I am from… nowhere.”

“Nowhere?” He echoed. “What an odd name. Is that a city, or a village?”

“No, I mean-” I stopped short, looking up at him to see his yellow eyes gleaming. Realizing belatedly he was teasing me. I glanced back at my hands, face flushing.

“So, no-name Sera from nowhere,” He continued on as the heavy hooves of the horse thumped rhythmically beneath us, sounding amused, “I never did ask what brought you to my room this evening. What made you a fugitive to your own people?” His horned head cocked to the side as I tensed again. “May I assume it has something to do with the coin you relieved that reveler of at the stables?”

My head ached as the blood flushing my cheeks suddenly rushed from my face. My mouth dropped open uselessly and I started to sputter some semblance of response. I stopped after a few attempts, realizing I was getting nowhere. The realization of my guilt, and his knowledge of it, spurned me to silence. I felt cold and clammy with fear, and wondered if he was actually a bounty hunter. I doubted my petty crimes had raised the ire of any town enough to lay a bounty on my head, but it made everything else click together in place. I tried not to move too much as I evaluated the best possible manner of a more immediate escape.

“It is not my business what you did before I employed you.” He intoned after a few restless minutes of riding, and the back of my neck tingled with a cool breeze of relief and suspicion. “However, you will need to desist such actions in the future. It would not do the reputation of my people any good if each place I visit suddenly finds themselves bereft of their valuables.” His sharp yellow eyes flicked down to me briefly before returning to the road. “Certainly the humans would assume the crime mine before yours, given the choice between us. And much besides,” He steered the gelding to the left at a fork in the road, “I am paying you now, and attending to your needs. You should have no need to pursue such a course anymore.”

I didn’t have an answer for that right away, and swallowed heartily. I still considered trying to slip beneath his arm and slide off the horse. I was certain I could escape in the woods and be far on my way before he could even hope to dismount and pursue me. But I wasn’t entirely sure such a dismount from the high back of Nur would leave me on my feet. And I didn’t fancy spending a cold night in the woods without supplies, nor any idea of where I was headed.

“Aren’t you afraid I will steal from you?” I finally asked, my voice soft.

There was a deep rumbling in his chest by my ear, and it took me a few moments to realize he was chuckling. “You could certainly try, I suppose. It would be amusing.” I jumped as his clawed hand came up, gently tugging his scarf from around my head. It slipped easily loose, and my freed hair tumbled about my shoulders. “However, what is mine is now yours. So in essence you would only be stealing from yourself.” I watched him curl the scarf loosely around his neck and give a pleased little grunt as he seemed to settle himself into it. “I assume you see the logic in my reasoning that you would not bother with such an attempt.”

I looked down at my hands, unsure how to respond to that. A million different doubting questions ran through my mind. It took me more time than I cared to admit to realize that he was offering me his trust. Unbidden, unearned. Just handing it to me… I wasn’t sure I believed it would come so freely. Trust was never that easily given. I wondered how far we were from the next nearest village...

“I must say, I am already quite pleased with our arrangement.” He continued, long tongue darting out. “I would usually be forced to make camp by now, due to the temperature of the night. But with your warm body against mine-” His arm around me flexed to emphasize his point, “-I find myself much more wakeful and energetic.” His thin nostrils flared slightly. “I also find I enjoy your scent.”

“Umm… y-your welcome?” I offered, uncertain how else to reply. “... I’m not sure what you mean though…”

His chuckle returned. “Our natural body temperature runs much cooler than yours.” He explained. “We depend on external sources of heat, such as the sun, to keep us warm enough to do everything we need. Move about, digest our meals, and so on. Usually nights here are too cool for me to continue to function.” He curled himself tighter around me, and I stiffened as I felt his chin rest on my head. I could feel the soft underside of his neck through the hair there. “But with you here, I feel very alive. I could stay up all night.”

He gave a soft hiss that reverberated through his body without ever sounding like it left his mouth. It tickled at my eardrum and threatened to send a shiver down my spine. Instead, I shifted, and felt him move to accommodate me while simultaneously pulling me even closer. It made it hard to believe his motives were purely my warmth; I tried to wriggle myself loose, but he merely shifted again and tightened his arm around me.

“D-don’t you need to sleep?” I stammered, wondering not for the first time that evening exactly what I had gotten myself into.

“Not much,” He replied, “An hour here, an hour there.” He finally curled his head back, looking down at me with those fierce yellow eyes of his. “Humans require more, I believe. Your circadian rhythms demand you sleep for most of the darkest hours. Which I find strange, since you can obviously continue to function throughout them if you so choose.”

“Our what?” I wriggled again, trying to put more space between us. And nearly falling off the horse in the process.

His arm quickly tightened, catching me before I plummeted backwards head first. “Your circadian rhythm.” He repeated, righting me without comment but resuming his mold to my body. “The internal process that regulates your sleep-wake cycle. Do not fear, I shall make an effort to respect yours. But please be sure to let me know if I seem to stray from this commitment.” His great horned head cocked to the side. “I am not as familiar with humans as I would like to be.”

As I would like to be? I echoed in my head, trying not to outwardly show my panic at his words. 

“Since we are on the topic,” I said, breathlessly as my heart settled from my near fall, “May I ask… what exactly you even are?”

His chuckle was replaced by a loud, deep laugh that rattled my bones as it rippled through his chest against my shoulder. “What good fun you are, Sera. I am most pleased. You know you are the first human to ever ask me? At least directly.” He bared his sharp teeth in another ‘grin’, and I swallowed nervously. “Most just, how is it you say? ‘Beat around the bush’. It is quite irregular and short sighted.” He pulled me tighter to himself, settling his chin on the top of my head again. “We call ourselves the Nessiim. I believe I have heard some of your own calling me a “lizard man”, or, alternatively, “dragonkin”. I am not certain why, as I have seen many lizards and do not believe I bear much resemblance to them. I have not yet the fortune of meeting a dragon, though I believe the similarities would remain few.” He fell silent for a moment, and I chanced a glance up at him. His features seemed drawn, his scaly lips pinched together, his brow scrunched.

“I-I am sorry if I upset you with the question…” I stammered. And surprised to find I meant that.

He shook his head. “Not in the least, Sera.” His lips curled back to reveal his sharp teeth again, though only a hint this time. “I enjoy your curiosity. I am afraid I was merely a bit… bogged down in reminiscing the unfortunate use of these words as… well, how shall I put it?” His long tongue flicked out as he thought it over. “Unfavorable, I suppose. Spoken as an insult.” Devaraj straightened his shoulders, his long lips twitching slightly. “However, it is of no concern! The Nessiim are unknown in these parts! It is simply a matter of being misunderstood, I am certain.”

I hesitated, glancing at the road ahead. Or at least, what I could make out of it. Nur and the scaled man at my back seemed unhindered by the dark, and we plodded along steadily. But perhaps not so easily as I had originally concluded. A sudden dip in the road had the big horse staggering to catch his over-sized hooves, and I jolted in surprise, my hands knocked from the horn. My arms came up instinctively, and I wrapped them around Devaraj’s neck as I began to fall out of the saddle again.

I needn’t have bothered, of course. His arm quickly compensated for the sudden shift, wrapping about my middle and pulling me up. But as I simultaneously hoisted myself backwards by way of my arms about his neck, his saving movement brought me to sit with the front of our torso’s pressed flat together, my thigh pinned to his hips. And our faces mere inches apart.

His intense yellow eyes met mine, visible despite the only light coming from the moon broken between branches, and his snout so close I could feel his breath on my cheeks. I froze, suddenly captivated. They were unlike any eyes I had ever seen before. The sunny color filled them from edge to edge, and was flecked with jagged streaks of gold surrounding black slitted irises. He seemed equally surprised as I was, holding my gaze. I couldn’t read his expression well, as whatever similarly humanoid facial features he had were obscured by thick mottled green scales. But after the initial shock wore off, I decided he looked… curious. No, more than that. Intrigued. Perhaps… interested.

“Ah… S-sorry.” I breathed, my voice light.

For once, he seemed to have no answer, and simply gave a tiny nod. His long tongue darted out, probably instinctually, and I started slightly as its forked tip brushed the end of my nose. That broke me from whatever trance those sunny gold eyes held me in, and I instantly felt my cheeks set back to their hot blaze. The very corner of his elongated mouth twitched, and he cocked his horned head to the side.

“Perhaps we should take this as a sign to make camp for the night.”

I cleared my throat, nodding my fervent agreement. He turned Nur easily as I settled back into my original position in front of him, leading us off the road. A few yards past there was a small clearing between the trees, and he pulled up the big gelding with a soft click of his tongue. Nur gave a great huffing snort that I felt myself rise and fall with, and Devaraj gracefully swung out of the saddle behind me. I didn’t have time to access how to manage my own descent before I found his hands at my waist. Plucking me gracefully from the saddle even as a little squeak escaped me.

Placing me back on my feet, he paused, and our eyes locked again. I swallowed, moving to take a step back. His eyes studied me for a breath longer, then he placed a heavy, clawed hand on the top of my head. Scruffing my hair back and forth. 

“Come. I have but one bedroll at the moment, but I am happy to share it.”

I pushed his hand away, taking another step back. “I-I don’t think that would be appropriate, sir.”

He cocked his head to the side, obviously a little surprised by my hesitance. “Devaraj is fine, Sera. And I thought I had already clarified my intent for your employment?”

I coughed, turning and beginning fumbling to undo the straps to free his camping gear. “I-I just don’t-”

“It is cold, though perhaps not as much to you.” He mused, interrupting me. I stiffened as he came up behind me, reaching past my own arms to pluck the now freed gear from Nur’s back. “I would prefer to lay at your side to borrow your warmth. However, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.” He walked over to a nearby tree, quickly spreading out the canvass covering to drape over the cleared patch of ground beneath and securing it tightly. “You may use my sleeping roll. I can lay alongside Nur.” He chucked, setting up the aforementioned roll with a flick of his wrists. “It would not be the first time. Though I do not find his scent as pleasing as yours.”

I slowly undid Nur’s saddle after hobbling him, wiping one hand down his broad flank. “Th-thank you…”

He nodded, then offered me his tooth filled grin. “I do not wish you to be uncomfortable. Please, be certain to tell me if I overstep.” His head cocked to the side again as he considered me. “It seems Nessiim and human culture are different in some respects.”

I set the saddle on an old log framing the small clearing he had led us to. He moved off, patting the horse fondly with his back to me. I watched his long tail sway as he moved, watched his tongue flick out and the way his broad shoulders flexed beneath the patchy grey cloak. Alright then, I thought to myself. That seemed more respectable… Though I couldn’t suppress the stab of guilt at taking his bed roll. I slowly moved over to it, crawling under the makeshift tent.

“Are you hungry, Sera?” He asked, glancing over at me. When I shook my head, he nodded. “Then I wish you pleasant dreams, yes? In the morning we shall discuss our route.”

I pulled the blanket about my shoulders, looking over at him hesitantly. “You never did tell me what it is you do, sir.”

“Devaraj.” He reminded me. “Or, if you wish, you may call me ‘shri’. It is like your ‘sir’, but less… Hmmm,” He thought that over, tapping one claw to his pointy chin, “Less formal, I suppose. Though still respectful.” He raised one scaly brow at me. “I still would prefer you call me Devaraj, but understand if you wish to maintain a more professional relationship.”

I felt my cheeks flush again, and brushed one hand back over my head. “Ah, yes,... shri.” The word was a little strange on my tongue, but if that was his preference, I was determined to learn it. “You never did tell me-”

“All a good discussion for the first rays, yes?” He interrupted, waving his hand. “Rest assured, it is legitimate and profitable. But we can discuss it more tomorrow.” He leaned against the gelding’s flank, who huffed at the intrusion to his own perusal of the sparse vegetation around our tiny camp. “I am already beginning to feel sluggish from the evening air and should endeavor to conserve myself.”

I hesitated, but settled down into the bed roll at his words. Though I was unable to resist a final peek at him as I did. He didn’t seem to notice, and settled against the roots of the tree nearby. Nur wandered closer, and he took the draft horse’s head between clawed hands gently. The big gelding gave another gentle huff, nosing his companion. He didn’t linger long, soon wandering back off.

I tried to sleep, tossing and turning a few times as slowly and carefully as I could to not disturb my new employer. But I kept checking to see what the scaled man was doing. As I watched, he seemed to slowly curl tighter and tighter into himself. His cloak wrapped about him, his head to his chest. At first I thought he intended to sleep in this manner. Another stab of guilt hit me as I realized he must be cold. His eyes seemed a bit glazed, his breathing oddly slow. It certainly wasn’t a horribly chilled evening, but if what he said was true…

“Umm… shri?” I called softly, and instantly stiffened as a delayed breath later his yellow eyes flicked to me. “I… I would…” I hesitated, then sat up a little. “I haven’t slept in the woods before… would you come lay with me? I would feel safer…”

He shifted slowly, his motions sluggish. “It isss alright, Sssera.” He mumbled, his thick voice hissing with drowsiness, his lips barely moving. “You do not need to-”

“I-I’m not!” I said quickly, then wondered if he could smell a lie with that long red tongue of his. “I really would… if you are comfortable with it too…”

Slowly, he rolled to his feet, then heavy footed, staggered over to me. I scooched to the side as he crawled in. I felt him falter, as if uncertain, his yellow eyes looking me up and down. I lifted the corner of the blanket, offering it to him. He gave a deep, hissing sigh of relief, easing himself into the roll beside me. His arms came up, tenderly wrapping around me. Pulling me close to the soft scales of his torso and burying me in the scent of sand. I stiffened, swallowing hard. I wasn’t sure what I had expected when I had invited the man into the bed, and kicked myself for being so foolish. I shivered briefly. He was cool to the touch after the warmth of the blankets. But within mere moments I felt the adjustment.

“... Thank you, Sssera. It isss kind of you.” He murmured against the top of my head. “I… I do not like to be ssso immobile…” He sighed again, pulling me a little closer. “You are very warm.”

“You don’t need…ah... it is your bedroll after all…. B-but this is just for tonight.” I mumbled against him, breathing in his soft scent. It reminded me of sunshine and hot summer days. “We’ll figure out another arrangement for tomorrow.” If I’m still here. I added softly to myself. Though laying tucked against him... well, it didn’t really seem all that bad, if I was being honest. I had certainly slept in worse places... with worse company.

I felt him shift, coiling into a ball around me. Enveloping me in his body, so close I could feel the slow thrum of his heart against my fingertips on his chest. We lay still and quiet like that for a long time. His breathing deepened, but when I snuck a glance up, his eyes were still half open. Long tongue darting out now and then. I wondered if he was falling asleep; or perhaps Nessiim slept with their eyes open? I recalled what he had said about only needing a few hours. Though he seemed in a trance, unmoving save for the deep, thick breaths that filled the tent like a forge’s bellows. It was warm in the bedroll, and despite my trepidation, I slowly felt myself grow heavy. Sinking into a deep sleep...

...

UPDATE: Part two HERE

#monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #lizardman #reptile boyfriend #lizardman boyfriend #lizardman lover #terato #exophilia #slow burn #soft fluff #A Line in the Sand

[b-else-writes]

the tiger shark and the sun

New chapter posted for my Star Wars/Avatar the Last Airbender-RebelCaptain fusion AU! Feat: Jyn calls Obi Wan an old fart, Jyn tells Luke and Leia to stop being melodramatic about becoming evil, dragons, and me ranting about the “evil sexy matriarchy” fantasy trope. 

Read on AO3 | Read from start

Pairings: Jyn/Cassian, minor Han/Leia and Baze/Chirrut, random minor background pairings

Rating: T

Summary: Star Wars/Avatar the Last Airbender fusion AU. The Fire Nation, under  Fire Lord Palpatine and Lord Vader, has been at War with the world for  the last twenty years. When Jyn Erso lands on his doorstep the day  Cassian, last southern waterbender, is assigned to protect the Avatar,  she seems just another obstacle in ending the War. An obstacle he would  willingly remove. For exiled firebender Jyn, the Avatar is her last way  home - and to her hostaged father, never mind her own conscience. But as  their paths keep crossing, and the Avatar needs all help in saving the  world, Jyn and Cassian find they are more alike than they ever thought  possible.

Snippet under the cut!

Jyn woke with a start, rapidly trying to figure out where she was. She was lying on a straw mattress in a stone room. The early morning light filtered in through a low window. On the ceiling were carvings of circling sky bisons.

Slowly, her memory returned. Jyn sat up, taking in the small room in Hynestia, the Western Air City. Cassian and Kay were nowhere in sight. He had removed her bracers and her boots sometime after she’d fallen asleep, and left then. But there was a dent on the mattress from where he’d been. She could still smell him – and his horrible lizard – and she gave herself a moment to imagine a world where someone like her…

She hastily shoved the thought aside. Another, more pressing concern than her unrequited feelings had emerged. She was supposed to teach. Jyn buckled on her bracers and slid her boots on quickly. She combed her fingers through her hair, repining the bun, and set about finding Enfys.

It took her a surprisingly short time to get around: the entire city seemed to have been developed and built for easy accessibility, with lifts, railings, and maps everywhere. Enfys, after she’d shown Jyn her room, had said she was going to the temple. Jyn found her and Luke curled up on the temple floor, fast asleep.

Jyn crouched and poked her. “Wake up!” she hissed.

Enfys groaned, red braids falling in her face. “Jyn, it’s only dawn…”

“Enfys, I need your help.” Luke made a noise but continued to snore. Jyn pursed her lips. “I’ll make you those wheat pancakes with dates and honey you love,” she said in her sweetest voice.

Enfys cracked one eye open. “We don’t have honey or dates.”

“I brought a jar as a peace offering,” she admitted. There was a pause. With a groan, Enfys extricated herself from Luke’s arms, pulling her cape on. Luke made a little grumble and rolled over. Jyn refrained from commenting as Enfys trailed after her to the central atrium. Enfys was perfectly liable to turn it right back on her.

As Jyn got the ingredients out from her satchel on the war balloon, Enfys asked, “So, what’s the issue?”

Swallowing her pride, “How did you teach the twins?”

There was another long pause. “You didn’t think this through at all, did you?” Enfys said, covering her mouth with her hand. Jyn glared. “I’m not laughing, I’m not!”

“I hate you,” Jyn said, swatting the date jar away from Enfys’ grip.

“No, you don’t,” Enfys said happily, dipping one finger in the honey jar and licking it. Jyn crouched to light the cookfire. It took a moment for the flame to appear on her fingertips. She frowned, but Enfys continued to speak, refocusing her attention. “Well, for me it was simple – I just followed how I was taught by my mother and aunts and elders. I already had a lesson plan ingrained in me.”

Jyn shook her head, feeling her pulse race, though it had been a decade since Master Jorus had backhanded her to perform better. “That…is not going to work.”

Enfys’ face clouded over. She stood from her perch and began to help Jyn, brushing her hands against hers. “Well, then, start simple. Like how to produce fire. And go from there. Basic punches and blocks, you do that a lot, don’t you?”

“They’re called fire fists.”

“My mistake,” Enfys said, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “Fire fists and fire kicks and fiery-ness and aallll that.”

Jyn bit back a smile, extending the plate with honey-drizzled wheat pancakes. “For her highness, the Queen of Mon Cala.”

Enfys immediately grabbed it, digging in with a moan of delight. “One of the few things from the Fire Nation worth saving,” she said, her mouth full of food.

“What’s the rest?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Enfys said easily, making Jyn grin. As Baze and Chirrut came in, Enfys added, “Just remember to be patient.”

“I am a beacon of patience.”

Enfys laughed. “I meant with yourself, Jyn. You’re doing something new and difficult. So be kind to yourself as you figure it out.”

She sighed, resting her head against her best friend’s shoulder. “And yet you won’t share your portion with me?” she asked, fighting down her own rising panic.

“You’re impossible,” Enfys laughed, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Now eat up for your first big lesson, Master Jyn.”

Jyn stretched and popped out her muscles. She, Luke, and Leia stood in a beautiful courtyard of cream and white clay and wood. She imagined it must have been a communal space when Hynestia had still housed Air Nomads. She didn’t like dwelling on that too long. She could still feel…something clinging to the place. Fire child, they whispered, stroking her face and hair, this is what your people did.

She would have preferred pure hatred, but she felt that was not their way. It would have been easier than guilt. Especially when she saw the sadness in Enfys’ eyes.

Jyn focused back on the twins. Both wore expressions of trepidation, Leia in particular throwing her suspicious looks. Jyn tried not to take it too personally. “Have either of you ever firebent before?”

They exchanged a look. “Once,” Luke said, shifting a little, “We… we burnt Cassian by accident.”

Multiple statements immediately became clear in Jyn’s head. She pushed aside her own empathy for Cassian – and her instinctive urge to get angry on his behalf. Cassian held no grudge about it. Patiently, she said, “Most firebenders accidentally burn themselves or others when they’re starting out as children. It’s…normal.

“Alright then, let’s see what fire you can produce,” she said, folding her hands behind her back. Keep patient. Don’t be like Master Jorus. Don’t be what the Air Nomads know you could be. The summer heat touched the scars on her arms.

Exchanging another uneasy glance, the twins sank into a low hot-squat, good form, and punched.

A puff of smoke came out.

“That’s it?” Leia glared. Jyn resisted the very powerful urge to groan. “Let me demonstrate,” she said. Her muscle memory was so honed that Jyn didn’t even need to think. She sank and punched, sleeves billowing.

She produced a tiny gasp of flame.

Leia began clapping. Jyn scowled. “Don’t patronize, you know what it’s supposed to look like,” she grumbled. Jyn punched again. She slid into various forms, again and again. Only wisps of flame. “What in the…”

“Maybe you were never as good as you thought you were,” Leia said, grinning slightly.

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Jyn snapped, trying in vain to produce more flame.

“Maybe it’s the altitude?” Luke suggested, though he didn’t look convinced. Jyn stared at her hands. Her inner flame felt cold and dull in her chest, despite the sunlight pouring over her skin. Sól, give me power, she thought, but none came.

Her firebending was gone. Somewhere, she could feel Master Jorus laughing.

The group sat around the cookfire, eating and chatting. The summer days were long, Chirrut knew. He could still feel heat despite the dinner hour. Baze had passed him his bowl, their fingers brushing. He smiled, gripping Baze’s fingers momentarily and grounding them both.

He heard Jyn clear her throat to speak. “There’s…a problem. I’ve lost my firebending. Well, not lost…but it’s weaker now and I can’t figure it.”

Chirrut considered as he munched. Bending was inherently spiritual, something that many had now forgotten, preferring to use as a blunt instrument. Jyn had never struck him before as someone who wanted to look within herself.

“Maybe it’s because you changed sides,” Cassian spoke up. Chirrut’s seismic sense could feel Jyn immediately perk up and orient towards him. Oh, young love. “Your firebending used to come from anger and desperation. Now you have none.”

“So, what? We piss Erso off?” Han asked, poking Erso with his sword butt.

Jyn kicked him in the shin. “Cut that out! It’s not an option.”

“What you need is a new source,” Chirrut said. “And by that, I mean an old one. The original. For earthbending, the first earthbenders were the badgermoles. When I was young, I ran away and hid in a cave. A blind child was better off gone.”

He still remembered the pain and fear as he had fled Jedha’s orphanage, stumbling through the crowds of people out into the scorching, shifting ground he had learnt was sand. Finding his way into the Catacombs. Surrounding by the dead, as he imagined he would soon become.

The Spirits had other plans. There had been a great crunch of rock, and a soft, wet snout had nosed him. They had recognized him as one of their own. “The badgermoles are also born blind. I learnt earthbending as an extension of my senses. Earthbending is not a martial art – it is a way of interacting and moving through the world, and that is the form I taught Luke and Leia.”

The wonder he had felt as he began to feel the world expanding outwards beneath his palms and feet. The grubs and creatures that lurked beneath the desert sand. The hardy plants that nourished from the earth. The secret oases. The possibilities that had exploded to him. His only regret was that it was no help to non-benders and other benders, but Chirrut was nothing if not stubborn. He had tried to help them too, as a Guardian of the Whills.

“Firebending isn’t like that,” Jyn said quietly, standing up and pacing.

“But surely you must know who the original firebenders were,” Enfys said, “I learnt from my Tribe, but the first airbenders were the sky bison. That’s influenced our bending to use gliders to fly, to our culture!”

Jyn walked over to Chirrut. He felt the same turmoil of his childhood self, in her. “It won’t work. The first firebenders were the dragons, and they’re extinct. There’s no other way.”

Baze squeezed Jyn’s hand. “There is always another way.”

Jyn was silent for a moment. When she spoke, he felt the vibrations. There is something she is concealing. “We’re not far from the island of Dathomir. The witches of Dathomir were said to be the first to learn firebending from the Dragons. They were killed off thousands of years ago. You still hear stories, but there’s no proof their society still exists. We might find something. Otherwise…”

“Sometimes the shadows of the past can be felt by the present,” Chirrut said. Several of the group shifted uncomfortably.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Luke said, “Han, can we borrow the Falcon?”

keep reading

#rebelcaptain #rogue one #jyn x erso #star wars #jyn erso #cassian andor #atla #au: atla #zutara #my fic

[chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky]

This was a prompt I received that I stupidly responded to the ask already, but here is the fic! The prompt was that Joe has nightmares from a time when he and Nicky were separated for a week. It was a crazy coincidence because I had been writing in my large WIP IN EXILE, SEEING YOU OUT, Nicky mentioning that a week was the longest they’d been apart, after being shipwrecked. So, here is the fic, my lovely Anon!

Usually sleeping was nothing more than a utility. Joe always found being awake was far more entertaining, the only good parts of being asleep was being able to hold Nicky as close as he possibly can. It was like slotting into place, holding Nicky. Nicky also insisted on being by the door, his hands wrapped around Joe’s and a gun hidden beneath the pillow. It was a solid, warm presence on his chest, and it always reminded him that Nicky was here with him.

It was good to be reminded.

It was very rare the two were separated. In fact, he could count on one hand the amount of times they were away from each other for more than a day. Sometimes because of a mission, once because of a poorly timed ferry disaster.

And once because of an actual disaster.

Joe tries not to think of it too much. It’s a painful memory, and a terrifying one. Except after long battles and long fights, Joe holds Nicky a little closer. As tightly as he can. If it ever hurts or bothers Nicky, the man never says anything. If anything, Nicky clutches his hand tighter, as if he knows. Knows that Joe needs the grounding. Knows that he has to hold him close.

The nightmares don’t come often, but usually after a particularly difficult battle, it’s all that’s his subconscious can conjure. So when they are back in a safehouse, blood washed away from their skin, clean sheets, clean clothes. So when his eyes close, face nuzzling into Nicky’s neck, he stills his concern by listening to his loves heart.

He wants it to be enough.

His mind has other thoughts.

They’re on a tradeship in 1623. Joe had managed to talk his way on board, even though he was pretty sure these people were one step above pirates. Fortunately, Nicky stopped his concerns with traveling with the wrong people somewhere in the 1200s, and merely watched amusedly as Joe got them safe passage. The two of them are topside, Nicky always insisting that they are near the water.

“It is a beautiful night, isn’t it my love.” He says quietly, moving closer. The two are not touching, having experienced the wrong end of poor manners in that regard. Nicky said he didn’t care and Joe said fuck em, but neither of them can steer a ship by themselves. So, they put their anger aside and stand close enough for their shoulders to touch. “The moon is particularly beautiful.”

Joe looks up where at it, bright and sharp in the sky. “It is. Thought I’d much rather watch you talk about the sea.”

Nicky’s face scrunches into something fond and loving, turning back to face him. “But you know how much I love hearing your voice.”

“Well, you can’t be selfish, Nicolo. Watching you talk about the sea is like speaking to God, only I find you much more desirable.”

Nicky can’t help but laugh, bright and clear. Joe always is amazing when he laughs. If starlight could make a sound, it would not have a chance against his love.

So Nicky tells him about growing up on the water. The way he would fish in the summers and would dip his feet into the water. Neither of them have been able to go to their hometowns, hundreds of years later. They both have fond memories with the places and aren’t sure if they’re ready to change that. It was who they were, not how they move forward.

But Joe does like this. When he hears Nicky think about the things he loves. It makes him want to go, but it’s for Nicky to share, just as it is his to share his home. He can’t help it, he reaches out and wraps his hands in his loves and listens.

The rain starts to pick up and Joe frowns, watching it roll down his cheeks. “I know you like sleeping topside my love, but I think we should go to drier land.”

“I think you are right.”

The events that happen next are too quick for Joe to comprehend.

After the fact, he unscrambles them to try and put the pieces together. The events, he realizes later, go like this:

One: lightning strikes.

It strikes against the cloth of the sail, a fire lighting up the sky. Nicky and Joe turn quickly at it, eyes wide. “My god,” Joe breathes, the fire soon engulfing the entire ship. He instinctively grabs Nicky’s arm – to pull him close. “W-We—”

Two: the ship hits something.

It’s a sharp, jarring throw. The two of them break apart by the force of nature, the only thing strong enough to do so. Joe launches against the railing, a sharp pain in his gut as he feels a few ribs break. They start to snap back, but not before he sees Nicky sprawled across the ship, trying to get his bearings. The lightning is all around them, illuminating Nicky’s face as he looks across the ship to Joe.

“Yusuf!” Nicky calls from across the ship, his words terrified in a way he rarely hears.

Three: he loses Nicky.

It’s slow and fast all at once. Joe’s noticed that time has a tricky way of doing that, speeding up and slowing down at the most inconvenient times.

The ship is thrown, the fire rages, and a wave washes over the railings. Joe wraps his wrist around a rope and is tossed a but manages to stay aboard. He shakes his head dazedly, blinking a few times to get the world back in focus. He looks over to where Nicky was on the ship’s deck, sprawled out.

He’s gone.

“Nicky,” he chokes out salt water, the worlds barely understandable. “Nicolo!”

Unwrapping his arm from the rope, he sprints across the ship. “Nicky! Nicky, where are you? Nicky!”

He shouts his name hundreds of more times.

Nicky never answers.

***

The next time Joe is conscious, he’s on a beach. The sand is in his hair, his skin feels bloated, and he’s far too hot. He lets out a strangled cry, but its so raspy. He screamed himself hoarse for Nicky. Then, he found himself in the sea, salt water filling his lungs. Then he died. He died again and again and again. He hasn’t moved from the hot sand.

He died once more.

After a while, he manages to clamber to his feet, his skin on fire and singed. His limbs feel broken and messy, Joe lifting his head to the sky. “Nicky,” he calls, but his voice barely registers.

So he tries again.

And again.

Joe isn’t sure of a lot in life. But he is sure of Nicky.

And he’s sure he’ll find him.

***

It’s the first night he hasn’t had Nicky pressed against him in two hundred years. Joe can’t fall asleep. The sky is clear and the moon is out, as innocent as a night can be. He looks at the moon, the same bastard moon the two of them were looking at the night before. His eyes water. “Fuck you!” He shouts at the moon. “Fuck you!”

He’s not entirely sure how sane he is if he’s yelling at the moon.

But he’d trade it.

He’d trade the fucking moon to have Nicky back. To have him pressed against him.

The moon doesn’t offer a trade.

Joe curses at it some more.

***

On the fourth day, Joe is losing hope.

Nicky would be so ashamed. He wanders the island, trying to find him, forgetting to drink water and sleep. He died a few more times, almost hearing his loves voice whenever he came back. “This is so reckless, Yusuf. How can I find you if you’re dead?”

“Ah, my dear love, I am trying to find you. How can I think of things like water and food when I am focused?”

“Oh my love,” he would be so exasperated. “I need you alive. A little help would be nice.”

“Then why don’t you come here and help?”

Joe is on his back, talking to the sky.

***

On the seventh day, he goes to the edge of the island. “Nicky!” He shouts.

Like all the other times, no one answers.

A light rain starts, just like that night. It starts to rain harder, and Joe’s desperation and anger grows with it. “What do you want?” He calls to the sky not for the first time since being alone.

The rain is heavy. He can barely see bast his own hand, his entire body chilling to ice. He wonders what they did to deserve this. If it was a cruel twist of fate to have someone, only for them to be taken away. Joe looks to the left where his blade is.

Maybe humanity didn’t deserve what they were trying to do. They would try and protect, and this is what they got in return? Blinking, a few tears roll down his cheeks. “What do you want—” he says, broken. “What do you want in return? To bring him back to me?”

“I do not know?” A voice says behind him. “I would imagine it is what I want.”

Joe shuts his eyes.

He can’t handle this being fake. He turns and there’s a silhouetted figure ahead of him. He lets out a broken sob. “Please.”

Before he can even lose it, there’s a pair of hands on his face and a pair of lips against his. Nicky kisses him with a ferocity that takes his breath away. The man pulls him close, hands gripping tightly at his shirt and pressing his hands against his back. It’s as if there is no space small enough for him.

And there isn’t.

As Joe reciprocates, he thinks that the moon has nothing on the man in his arms.

***

He sits up with a jolt, a thin layer of sweat on his brow. Nicky startles under him, propping his head up on his temple. “My love, what is it?” Nicky asks sleepily, turning so that he can see him.

Joe is breathing heavily, the taste of salt water on his tongue. “It’s nothing, I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s not nothing.” Nicky says, brushing Joe’s curls aside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Joe sees the fire. He sees the waves. He tastes the ocean. He feels the despair. “No,” he says quietly, his voice raspy. “I would… I would just like to hold you.”

Nicky surveys him for a moment, his attention fully on him, sleep nowhere in sight. Joe looks back, his mind on that ship. When whatever examination Nicky is doing is over, he grabs Joe’s arm and wraps it around his chest. “I’m here.”

He says it, but Joe doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear it.

So he plays it over his head like a mantra, until sleep takes him to a kinder shore.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #joe x nicky #joe #nicky #yusuf al kaysani #yusuf x nicolo #nicolo di genova #fic prompts #lindsey writes #drabbles #I hope you liked it anon!

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

Previously on Relic Keel:

Lily and James sneak out to the Lacrosse fields together. Lily learns about the treasure hunt and Luke’s father’s connection with Pascal Dumais. Her and James decide to, if not be together, than have togetherness for as long as they can.

Finn wakes up in Grimmauld and is reunited with Logan. The crew learn that a hurricane is approaching and Dorcas tries to convince Saint and Sirius to go somewhere else other than Grimmauld, which will get dangerous in the storm. Logan is looking forward to Finn meeting Leo, although he’s confused about his feelings for the blonde boy.

Luke and Saint meet in Rowena where Saint reveals he’s been staying up reading Luke’s notes in the books he’s stolen from his room. Luke wants to know more about Pascal Dumais, and learns that he helped raise Saint and Sirius after they both ran away from their homes. They agree to meet at The Lion later to confront Pascal. Saint apparently likes Luke because he hates surprises and Luke is exactly what he expects him to be—mean. He also steals Luke’s sunglasses.

Dorcas goes to Kasey Winter’s ice cream shop—he also is a safer dealer of Crucio, and she tells him she wants out. He was hoping she would go into business with himself and his girlfriend Natalie. They want to create a medicinal, therapy program for Crucio, where people who are struggling can safely use to to deal with past traumas or grief. They want it to be used correctly, not as a quick fix. Dorcas isn’t hesitant about leaving, she wants to follow Marlene, but she likes that idea.

Remus and Sirius run into each other on their way to the meeting at The Lion, and Remus invites Sirius to stay at his house for the duration of the hurricane. Sirius gets proud and angry and declines. They argue.

Pascal reveals to Sirius, Leo, Remus, Luke, and Saint that Luke’s dad, Victor, and Leo’s dad, Wyatt, were hunting the treasure together—Dumo played a smaller role, had less of an interest other than an interesting discussion about history. They figured out that the Voldemort lay off of the Cradle, a ring of rocks and tiny islands off of Hogwarts Island. They learn that there is a current called the Horcrux that escalates during a storm, revealing the bottom of the sea—or a shipwreck. Leo’s dad was killed by the current, Luke’s father was taken away years after, and the map showed up on Pascal’s doorstep a few days after that. Pascal tries to warn them off of going, but Saint and Luke seem bent on it.

Finn and Logan go to Leo’s house, only to find him crying about the truth of his father’s death. Finn learns of the treasure.

***cw: identity issues, not sure how to tag this but wanting to be alive? briefly implied (and happily concluded) past struggles with that, almost death, past death of a father, mention of blood and wounds***

part ix

Saint felt sweat snake down his bare back as he filled sandbags and shoved them up against the far side of the house. The wind already felt bad tempered. Maybe it was just him. Just Saint, the wind, and the ocean that had gone the graying blue that meant a storm. Saint thought the world should catch up already. His storm had been brewing for a long time. The promise of rain brought goosebumps over his bare back, the sun hidden by clouds, and he shoved another sand bag up against the boards, like some sort of parapet. As if they were preparing for a war.

He looked up when the noise of Sirius hammering plywood across the windows stopped. He rolled his eyes.

“Stop staring out at the ocean like a sailor’s widow.”

“Oh, we’re speaking now?” was all Sirius said.

“No,” Saint jammed his shovel into the bag of sand again.

He faintly heard Sirius sigh. “I don’t know what I did.”

Frankly, Saint wasn’t sure what Sirius had done, either. All he knew was that there was rain thrashing inside him, and wind howling in his ears, and there was gold to be had and death to be avoided.

And Luke.

He had let Luke catch him the night of Pascal’s confessions. Or maybe Luke had just caught up. He’d found Saint at the Howler Cliffs. Saint knew he was there, but kept his eyes closed, letting the wind whistle in his ears. Still, the sound of Pascal calling him his son roared louder.

“If I had known that’s all it took to rattle you, I could have saved myself a lot of time,” Luke had said, coming to stand beside him.

Saint had smiled and it felt like it had stretched his cheeks all wrong. “I didn’t know you were trying so hard.”

“You said it yourself,” Luke had replied. “Dumo took care of you.”

“It’s one thing for me to know it,” Saint snapped. “It’s—“ another thing for him to say it.

“Dumo could know more about my father,” Luke said. “Maybe—maybe the treasure can help me find out what happened to him somehow. Why no one will tell me anything. Why I can’t see him.”

“Sure, Deveaux,” Saint had kept his eyes ahead. “Tell me all about your father.”

“I need my father.”

Saint had whipped his head towards him, only to find Luke looking right back.

Luke’s eyes had been more open than Saint had ever seen them. His pain was like the sun coming through a tiny gap in drawn curtains. He didn’t let much of it show, but the mere hint became blinding. Saint felt it push against his own chest. He kept his blinds shut tight.

Luke’s voice was fainter when he repeated his words. “I need my father.”

Saint swallowed. It was nice, somehow, that Luke was self-aware enough to admit it. “What do you expect me to do about that?”

“I can’t—maybe I can’t figure this out alone.”

“I’m sure your Godlings will help with that.”

Luke shook his head. “James doesn’t understand. He’s too…happy.” Luke winced a little, the wind ruffling his tawny hair. “He’s had it too easy.”

“Lupin?”

“Remus only thinks he’s unhappy. Maybe because I am. It’s…abstract for him.”

Saint raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little rich.”

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Luke nodded.

“So, what?” Saint sighed. “Misery helps misery?”

Luke’s smile, so rare, was sad. “If it has nothing better to do.”

“Well?” Sirius said, flipping his hammer in his hand. “Feel like telling me?”

“Is it weird?” Saint asked. “That we aren’t in love?”

Sirius tilted his head at the age old question that they asked each other. It was half a joke. It was half a plea.

“I do love you,” Sirius said. “And I’d be in love with you if I could.”

“I’d be in love with you if I could,” Saint repeated, then sighed.

“We suck,” Sirius said.

“Yeah,” Saint squinted back out at the ocean, where they could see Remus’ boat.

“I do love you, though,” Sirius said, and walked down to sit on the steps, his gray eyes looking at Saint through the splintered, wooden railing. “Don’t do something stupid. I can’t lose you to the ocean. Or to anything at all.”

“And I love you, which is why we need that gold.”

“We don’t,” Sirius shook his head. “The rest of the world isn’t Gods and Hollows. You aren’t nothing or kings.”

“I have nothing better to do. And we have plain nothing—financially speaking.” Saint gestured towards the house. “Dorcas will leave for the states, and then we’ll really have nothing. We both know she’s paying—”

“We’ll go somewhere else—”

Saint tied off a sandbag with a yank. “I’m not leaving.”

“Saint.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not.”

Sirius stood, eyes cloudy. “You’re not talking to me again.”

“Huh.”

“We don’t do that!” Sirius said, voice raising. “Stop shutting me out.”

“I’m not doors and windows.”

“Saint,” Sirius’ voice held a note of begging. “What is here for us?” He motioned towards the cross that hung around Saint’s neck. “That?”

Saint grit his teeth and began to fill another bag.

“Just,” Sirius took a breath. “Just tell me why—”

Saint hurled the small spade at the side of the house, and it made a satisfying crack. “This is the only place anyone would ever know to look for me.”

The waiting storm seemed to crackle in the air around them at Saint’s words, as though he himself had struck the match to trigger it. Thunder rolled mutedly in the distance. Sirius’ eyes matched the sky.

Sirius walked forward, and Saint let him. He let him press a hand to his face, then their cheeks together as he wrapped him up in his familiar arms.

“Stop waiting for her,” Sirius’ voice was gentle in his ear. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

“We need the gold.”

“We’ll find another way.”

“I don’t want another way. I want a hunt.”

Sirius pulled back just enough to look at him. “One that has killed a man?”

Saint pulled away to retrieve the spade. “Careful is my middle name.”

~

Leo was embarrassed, but Finn didn’t seem to know the meaning of that word.

He watched him and Logan work wires into loops to hold together shards of found lost things that his mother had scooped up from the beach, while he sat at a workbench, repairing an old ship clock that he could hopefully paint to get rid of the wooden chips and then sell. Finn, as he had regained his strength, was laughter in a bottle. He was as fiery as the color of his hair, with lean fingers that Leo found himself watching as they handled materials, or helped him in the kitchen, or turned the pages of one of Leo’s many books. He went through them like a forest on fire.

And all Leo seemed to be able to do was cry in front of him, as he had the first night, or stare at the way him and Logan were together. Logan had opened up, his eyes lighter, his grins broader. Only his laughs remained as they had been, a soft sound, almost private. They made Leo feel as though he were being let in on a secret.

Leo blinked and Finn was standing in front of him.

“We’re making you dinner tonight,” Finn said, those same nimble fingers spread out over Leo’s work space on either side of the clock.

Leo couldn’t help his laugh. “Oh?”

“What do you feel like?” Logan asked, standing a little ways back, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like some hot gardener out of Leo’s daydreams in his tight white t-shirt and his borrowed pair of work gloves.

Leo leaned back, taking a breath. “What are my options?”

Finn looked back at Logan with a grin. “Ah…peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” He raised an eyebrow at Logan.

“Or take-out,” Logan finished with a shrug.

Finn’s smile was teasing. “Aren’t we the best house guests you could ask for?”

Most tormenting, maybe.

Leo laughed. “Better idea—I make dinner and you two stick to clean up.”

Logan put his hands up and walked closer to the work table. “Fine by me. What are you doing again?”

Leo looked back down at the clock. “Trying to fix this. I think it's missing a gear, though.”

Finn just hummed and sat half on the table, knee propped up. It made his cross swing against his neck for a moment, and Leo looked between his and Logan’s. He wondered, not for the first time, why they didn't take them off. They didn’t have a clasp or a tie that he could see, just a thicker area where the two parts of the string had been fused together with heat. They were too short to be pulled over the head.

“Do you want me to cut those for you?” Leo asked.

Finn looked up. “Cut what?”

Leo hesitantly gestured to the spot where the crosses would have rested on his own chest, and then pointed to Finn’s.

It was like cloud cover. Logan actually gripped his protectively in a fist.

“Ah, no,” Finn said slowly. He stood straight again and ran a hand through his hair. It came to rest on the back of his neck. “No, that’s okay.”

Leo watched Finn glance at the wire clippers resting near them, and reached out to put them back in the tool box. “Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”

Logan turned away and Finn watched him, too. He swallowed. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo flushed. It didn’t feel like a thank you. More like an appeasement. “Yeah…”

“Oh,” came a voice from the shop’s open garage door. Leo jumped a little, and looked to see Saint leaning against the side, and Luke, with his arms crossed, a little behind him, looking like a very grumpy sort of bodyguard.

Saint feigned a shiver. “The room just got colder.”

“Saint,” Finn still said the name like he was tasting something knew, but Saint looked almost pleased each time he heard it. “And…”

“Tweedle, meet Finn. Finn, meet Tweedle.”

“Luke,” Luke snapped.

Finn snorted. “Okay?”

Leo was still stuck on the necklaces, eyeing Saint’s still intact one now. He figured the numbers were a way of keeping track of the kids—but burning the string seemed like a bit much.

“What do you want?” Leo sighed. Seeing Saint made him feel raw about the news of his father’s death all over again.

“Well, you ran a little quickly from Dumo’s,” Saint replied, picking up an old lobster trap that they used for spare wire now. “Should’ve stayed. Missed some good stuff.”

“Don’t act like he’s the only one who ran,” Luke mumbled. He and Logan were eyeing each other suspiciously, no doubt remembering the night in Luke’s father’s study when Logan had nearly burned his father’s letter.

“The first wave will come tonight,” Saint said, ignoring Luke. “But if we really want our shot at the Horcrux current, we’ll need the full throttle. Boom, crack, all that.”

“Full storm hits tomorrow,” Finn said from his place beside Leo. Leo looked over at him. He was still torn between embarrassment about crying and something else. Relief? Thankfulness?

Leo tapped his fingers against the clock. “We should figure out what we need for a trip like that. The shops will be boarding up by this afternoon.”

“Kris will have what we need,” Saint replied. “A boat.”

“Kris?” Luke asked.

“He runs the marina,” Leo said.

“What I was going to say,” Saint cut in. “Was that we should run a test trip. Tonight. Before the storm is at its worst.”

“See what we’re dealing with,” Logan nodded.

“I don’t see why we need this treasure, or whatever,” Finn said. He was still fingering his necklace. “I mean…if the trip is as dangerous as it sounds…why risk it?”

Saint laughed a single note, and looked at Logan. “Oh, Lolo. You haven’t told him?”

Logan stiffened, and Finn blinked. “Told me what?”

Saint made a tisking sound. “Logan. All that trouble to get him out and you’re keeping secrets.”

“Fuck off,” Logan growled.

“Oh, you sound like Luke.”

Finn took a step forward. “Lo?”

Logan sent him a pained look, but turned away. Leo glanced at where Logan’s backpack was resting in the corner of the workshop. It had been there for days, he hadn’t been dealing, but that didn’t mean any of the problems it had caused had gone away.

“I think you’re right as far as boats go,” Leo said carefully, trying to draw the attention away from Saint’s jabs. "But he doesn’t have any equipment. Visual or otherwise. If we need that.”

Saint grinned and clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder, having to reach up a bit to do it. “That’s where this one comes in.”

Luke scoffed. “This one?”

“We’re going to visit your too-happy friend, Tweedle.”

~

James was staring at his computer, trying to will himself into college, when the sliding glass kitchen door, leading in from the pool, flew open. Saint was there, along with Luke, and three boys James didn’t recognize—or no, he knew the brunette and the blond from the restaurant in The Hollow.

“You have two hundred of my dollars,” he said, pointing his pencil at the brunette. The redhead beside him narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“That you offered,” the brown haired boy crossed his arms.

“Yeah, as part of a bargain,” James looked at Luke over his glasses. “Was the other end held up? Don’t think so.”

Luke just rolled his eyes.

“Well you’re going to have to pay up again, Potter,” Saint said, sliding onto the kitchen island stool across from James.

“Excuse me?”

“Not in money this time.”

James looked around at them all warily for a moment before sighing and knocking his computer shut. “Well, you’re already in my kitchen. And I’m already miserable.”

Luke coughed out a laugh and Saint seemed to bite back a smile, too.

“You need what exactly?” James asked.

“Lights Diving equipment. Don’t go running to Sirius, though.”

James raised an eyebrow. “I’d drive.”

“Ha, ha,” Saint rolled his eyes. “Now, can we borrow it?”

“Is this about that treasure?” James asked. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the ocean is fucking deep. Deeper than my summer of sophomore year scuba pastime will get you.”

“Deeper than you?” Logan mumbled, and James glared.

Luke let out a laugh and Saint paused in whatever he had been about to say and turned to look at him. It was almost—awkward.

“What?” Luke snapped, rubbing a hand over some stubble on his cheek. “That was a very Potter statement.”

James had never seen Saint stutter before, or fidget, but that’s what he did when he turned back around to face James.

“Can you get it?” Saint sighed.

James snorted and gestured to the TV mounted above the microwave playing the news. “I’m sorry, am I the only one who knows about the quickly approaching hurricane?”

“Details,” the brunette mumbled.

“It’s for later,” Saint said.

“Then I’ll give it to you later.”

Saint scowled.

James sighed and pushed himself from his stool. “You’re not actually going out into that storm with my help.”

“For Luke,” Saint said. “For his father. This might be our only lead, and our only chance. Until the next storm, at least, at which point you won’t be able to stop us because we won’t come to you for help.”

James yanked the refrigerator open. “Don’t guilt me.”

“James,” Luke said and James didn’t look at him. “Please. I—”

“And this will fix what, exactly?” James sighed. He closed the refrigerator harder than necessary, and the sound of rattling bottles from within filled the silence as he turned on Luke. Luke, who he’d known forever. Luke, who he’d tried to help. Luke, who had done everything except try recently. It frustrated James more than he knew it should.

“It could,” Luke bit out haltingly. “Fix something.”

“What?”

He could practically feel the anger in Luke’s next breath. “My dad was all but—stolen away in the night. No explanation. No goodbye. And now this? A letter, a name, a treasure hunt that turns out to be something more than the fucking bedtime story? J, come on, please.”

James cracked the seal on his drink. “Once again. Hurricane.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Luke said. “We need a storm.”

“You need to get a fucking grip,” James felt heat building behind his words. “Luke, this isn’t—you’re just trying to…distract yourself, or something, and I get it, I do, but—”

“You don’t,” Luke snapped, voice raising.” You don't know what it’s like. You’ve been wrapped in fucking silk and fleece for your entire life. Your parents love you more than anything. You don’t understand what it’s like. You don’t understand anything beyond your own fucking front porch.”

Luke’s words sapped the air from the room like lightning and a dead fuse. His brown eyes widened, just a little, the green dark today. His chest moved rapidly, his cheeks flushed. The three other boys glanced at each other from Luke’s shoulder.

James cleared his throat. He set his drink on the counter.

“How long have you been holding that in, huh?” he said.

“I…” Luke began. He pushed his hair off of his forehead, but it feathered back into place. “I haven’t, I…J, I’m—”

“And the Crucio?” James asked.

“I’m,” Luke’s eyes shifted away. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

Saint seemed to be holding himself very still. They all were.

“J,” Luke had a pleading note to his voice now.

“They’re in the basement,” James cut him off, sliding back on his stool and opening his laptop. “My mom labels everything down there. But I don’t think it’ll help you.”

“Great,” Saint knocked his knuckles on the countertop and was off, the other three following.

James could feel Luke standing there, frozen and hesitant. He kept his eyes trained on his screen, and his blank page, the cursor blinking.

“Just go,” James mumbled, and Luke did.

James didn’t look up when they left.

He didn’t look up as evening turned into night, or when the sky opened up for the winds and rain to begin their thrashing on the island.

~

Kris Lavolie had his boats and his daughter. The marina was shut tight when they got there, Logan running behind the others as they dashed through the rain to the door. Logan expected Saint to pound on the glass, but instead they only used the slight shard of roof the ran along the edge of the building as protection, the five of them racing in a line around the property until they got to the marina. All of the boats were dry-docked and covered tightly with pinned tarps. Saint surveyed them with steely eyes for a moment. His hair looked like molten gold in its drenched state.

Logan shivered and felt Finn press him against his side. He glanced at Leo, who had his arms wrapped around himself.

“This one,” Luke said. “It’s like my dad’s. I can drive it.”

Saint gave a nod and the two of them didn’t wait to see if Logan and the others would follow before they were walking down the swaying dock. They didn’t have to worry about making noise and drawing Kris out. The storm hid them.

Logan eyed the waves as he stood between Finn and Leo. They were rolling and white-capped. He looked up at Leo to see him staring, too.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Logan asked. He tried to think of a way to tell Leo that, if he did, he was with him. He also tried to think of a kind way to tell him he thought they were insane, now that he was face-to-face with the raging winds. He needed the money, sure, but he wanted his life, too. He didn’t think the Carrows would kill him, but he didn’t know. The wind stung his eyes and whipped his hair off his forehead. He’d lost his hat somewhere, he didn’t know when. He reached up to his temple, his shirt sticking to his skin. He hadn’t even felt it blow away.

Leo shook his head as they approached the boat where Saint and Luke were efficiently untying the tarp.

“No.” Leo took a shaky breath. “He died out there. He wouldn’t want me to—”

Saint looked up, blinking hard against the lashing rain, from where he was shoving the tarp into a storage compartment. “You cannot back out now.”

Leo’s blue eyes matched the dark waves. He put a hand on Logan’s shoulder, a slight pressure to turn him around. “Yes, we can. This is insane, the winds are too strong.”

“Your dad—” Saint began, both of them yelling over the howling wind.

“Didn’t raise me to be stupid,” Leo said. “Or to get my friends killed. I’m sorry, I know you’re doing this for me.”

Saint scoffed. “For you? This isn’t for you. We all do things for ourselves. Bail-outs,” he gestured to Logan, and then to Luke. “Answers. I thought you wanted a few of those yourself.”

“And what would my mom think? Both of us, my dad and me, drowned?”

Saint’s jaw muscles jumped from where he stood beside Luke in the boat. “You wouldn’t be there to know what she thought, would you? What does it matter?”

Logan thought he saw Luke flinch a little, but he kept his head down, fishing the keys from the glovebox.

Logan followed Leo another step back, looking frantically for Finn, only to find him already at his side.

“We shouldn’t,” Finn whispered right in Logan’s ear, breath warm. “Lo…”

“Saint,” Logan yelled. “Leo’s right.”

“Come on,” Finn shook his head. “Let’s go. This is insane.”

“We’re going,” Luke said, eyes on Saint. “We got this far.”

Logan hesitated. He didn’t know Luke. He certainly didn’t like him.

“Don’t be stupid,” he still found himself saying, then swallowed beneath the weight of his next words. “You’re selfish, to risk your friend’s life.”

Logan couldn’t hear Saint’s laugh beneath the wind, but he could see the smile. “Bold words, coming form you, Logan.”

Logan felt Finn’s cold fingers slip into his own and squeeze.

“Come back with us,” Leo shouted over the storm. “Come—”

But Luke pressed the button that would lower them into the water. Logan only just could hear the hum of the machine. Logan watched as Luke jammed the keys into the ignition and lowered the motor. The second the bottom hit water the engine roared to life. Finn took a halting step forward, and Logan had the brief thought of doing the same, prying them from the boat. Leo’s father’s story flooded through him. He felt like he was watching someone die. He gripped Finn’s hand tighter, his other raising on its own to fist the back of Leo’s t-shirt. He didn’t want either of them getting stuck on that boat if they couldn’t get to the keys. The boat rocked dangerously as it tried to get a crest over the violent waves. With one last dark look from Saint, they took off over the wild water.

“They made their choice,” Logan said. “God, they’re going to get themselves killed, I…”

“We need to get the coast guard,” Leo said, and then turned down the dock and ran.

Logan looked up at Finn, whose wild expression matched his own.

“I’m glad we’re not…” Finn said. “I didn’t understand…I don’t understand this.”

Logan pressed a hand to his cheek. “I’m not risking you. Not again.”

Finn pressed his palm over Logan’s. “What aren’t you telling me, Lo?”

Logan closed his eyes. “I will. I will tell you.”

And then they turned after Leo.

It was like the wind was trying to rip the Hollow free of the island. The coast guard boats had been out, and Leo had figured they’d be by the point and so they’d ran half across the islands to The Hollow, where it would be the most dangerous. Sure enough, trees were down, and wires lay in dangerous puddles. Sandbags lay soaked and spilled across the ground.

Logan’s eye caught on the red of the police cars’ lights flashing across Finn’s face, made fragmented and liquid by the heavy rain. He couldn’t help but feel the surreality of having Finn beside him all over again. There had been a time where he had been positive that he would get caught, that he would be sent back to St. Clair in a heartbeat. He had spent so long avoiding any sight of the police. It felt strange to be seeking them now, but Leo was on a mission. His tall frame looked above heads, but the guards weren’t anywhere near their cars. Logan spied Sirius’ familiar dark hair only seconds before Leo did.

“Sirius!” Leo shouted, and Logan and Finn ran after him. Sirius was in the street with so many of the other Hollows, watching the storm try to rip at their homes.

“What are you guys doing out?” Sirius yelled, trying to see them through the rain.

“It’s Saint,” Logan said. “It’s Saint and Luke. Where are the police, where—”

But Logan didn’t think Sirius was listening anymore. Sirius’ face dropped to an expression Logan recognized, one he had felt on his own face when he realized that he had escaped St. Clair, and Finn had sacrificed himself and stayed.

Sirius pushed through them and took off towards Godric at a run.

~

Luke knew they were insane. He could barely keep his footing the closer they got to the Cradle. The wind was skewing the rain so much that it seemed like they were driving through water, too, the headlights making the steam and pellets seem like a solid wall to be breached.

“Third rock from the left point,” Saint shouted over the roar. “Closest to the Salazar coast!”

“We can’t get caught up in it,” Luke shouted back, wrists aching with the effort of keeping the boat on course.

Saint shook his head, hair plastered down and falling in his eyes. “We won’t be able to see any other way. If it can carry us, we’ll be safer from the rocks.”

They hit a particularly brutal wave and Saint was jolted forward, without the stability that the driver’s seat provided Luke, and right into Luke’s side.

Luke caught him with one arm. Saint’s hand shot out to replace Luke’s, now around his waist, on the wheel, and they steadied the craft together.

“We’re fucking insane,” Luke shouted.

“Insanity likes company.”

Luke looked at him, risking taking his eyes away from the approaching rocks for a moment. “That’s misery.”

Saint glanced up at him. “We’re that, too.” Then his eyes widened as he looked out over the dark waves.

“The Horcrux,” Saint breathed, and Luke could barely speak.

“The middle,” he managed. “Look.”

There was bare sand in the middle of the circle of rocks, the wet grains being whipped into a frenzy as if by magic, the water pulling outwards. He didn’t know how that was possible. It was bizarre. It was too strange.

“There,” Saint pointed as they inched closer. Luke’s neck hurt from the jerk of being lifted up by the waves and crashed back down again. Luke squinted, trying to see through the rain and the small sand storm alike. They were right at the rocks now. “Do you see it? Are they planks? That looks like—”

Luke jolted as he felt the steering wheel stutter and then go loose in his hands. He turned it once, twice, but it was as though the mechanism had snapped. The boat lurched forward.

“We’re being pulled!” Luke said, panic clawing up his throat. “I can’t—”

Luke slipped from the wet leather seats, landing hard on his back on the deck of the boat, Saint beside him.

The steering wheel was useless. They were being carried now. By the waves. By the current. Maybe by chance. It was almost like floating, had it not been for the wind and rain. That made it feel like a free-fall.

Luke had his arms around Saint’s waist, Saint’s around his. It felt like they were pinned to the deck.

“Either the storm will pass,” Luke breathed. He couldn’t keep his mouth from brushing Saint’s temple, with the motion and the way they clutched each other. “And the current will slow, and we’ll be dashed against the rocks from momentum.”

“Or?” Saint’s breath brushed his jaw.

Salt sprayed as the boat jostled and knocked them together. “I didn’t think that far.”

“That Greek myth,” Saint said. Luke could feel his fingers digging into his back. “The whirlpool.”

“Maybe a monster would be a quicker death.”

Saint’s laugh sounded strained. “Quicker than rocks?”

“A better story, then,” Luke replied. “No one to tell, though.” 

“We’ll know.”

Luke gripped him tighter as the wind seemed to pick up, howling. His breathing came fast. “You told Leo the dead know nothing.”

Saint picked his head up, looking at Luke through the rain. Their foreheads pressed together. Luke’s eyes burned.

“I don’t want to know nothing,” Luke choked out.

Saint didn’t say anything. Luke had never known him to be silent, but he just stared as the boat lurched beneath them. Then, Saint tilted his chin forward, only a few centimeters, but it brought their mouths together in a firm kiss. It was warm, against the chilling rage above. Luke closed his eyes, and let the feeling of lightning brush through him. Warm heat.

They didn’t pull away so much as were pulled apart then knocked back together, Luke’s lips pressing to the corner of Saint’s mouth, then his cheek. Saint brought his hand up to Luke’s jaw to steady him. For a moment, it had felt like they had stopped spinning round and round.

“Why did you do that?” Luke breathed. He didn’t know how Saint heard him over the roar, but he did.

“What do you mean?” Saint said. His eyes were molten and—afraid, Luke realized. The rain on his face looked like tears, and he traced his thumb over Luke’s lip. “I steal things from you all the time.”

There was a horrible, jagged wrenching sound, and Luke found himself plunged into the water, Saint ripped from his arms.

~

The rain lashed against the windows of Remus’ bedroom, and Remus looked out into the falling dark.

“What a dick,” he mumbled aloud to himself.

He couldn’t figure Sirius out. He didn’t seem unkind—until someone was kind to him, at least.

It made Remus want to kill him with kindness and just kill him period. He’d been so happy on the Wolfsbane. He’d been horrible at The Lion. Proud.

Remus rubbed his eyes, closing his laptop. It was the storm. That was all. He looked towards the direction of the docks. He hoped the planks survived. He’d kept his boat as safe as he could, cranked up the tracks onto the grass, sails down, tarped up.

He smirked. Luke would laugh at him if he could see him worrying like a mother. Sirius, on the other hand…Remus thought Sirius might have worried, too. Remus sighed. There Sirius was again. Popping up.

It was why he thought he must be imagining it when he looked down and saw Sirius standing at the door he had named to him, in the side of Bane Tower, soaking wet and staring behind him, out at the ocean.

“Shit,” Remus threw his computer to the side, and his bedroom door open.

The old wooden tower stairs groaned beneath his quick feet, and he winced as a splinter ripped at his palm as he threw himself around the bend at the bottom and pulled open the door.

Rain hit him immediately. Sirius jolted around. His eyes were like gray moonlight.

“I…” Sirius began, but didn’t seem able to say any more, just blinked at Remus through the heavy wind and rain. Remus didn’t hesitate, just pulled Sirius inside and slammed the door shut again.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked.

Sirius was just staring at the door. Maybe thinking of the rough ocean still.

“Sirius,” Remus pressed, taking Sirius’ broad shoulders in his hands and giving him a shake. He was hot, even feverish, despite the frigid rain. “Are you hurt?”

Sirius just looked at him with wild eyes and shook his head. His dark hair clung to his forehead, his gray eyes cat-like and afraid.

“Is anyone else at your house? In the Hollow?”

Sirius shook his head again—his entire body was shaking, Remus realized. “No, Dorcas went to Marlene’s. The—everyone’s in the street—Saint—”

“Saint?”

“Saint is out there,” Sirius’ words practically tore out of his throat. He pushed his soaked hair out of his face. “He went out there and—and—the treasure. The—”

“The current,” Remus repeated, and Sirius pressed a hand over his eyes.

“I should have know. I should have known he’d never listen. He’d never—”

Remus didn’t pause to listen to more. He swore and snatched two windbreakers from the hooks by the door, plus a fleece. He shoved the fleece and jacket into Sirius’ chest.

“Put those on.”

“We can’t,” Sirius’ words choked off to catch his breath. “How will we follow them? I didn’t think you would—”

“Why else would you be here?” Remus said. He shoved gloves over his hands. The rope would be wet, slippery, and he didn’t want to deal with blisters and ripped up palms for weeks to come. He handed Sirius a pair, too. “I don’t know why I’m doing this for you. We should call the police.”

“Leo is trying to find them.”

Remus shoved a sweatshirt over his head. “Is that how you found out?”

Sirius nodded, zipping the breaker up. “Leo, Logan, and Finn. They came running up, and said Saint and Luke—”

“Luke?” Remus froze. His stomach dropped. “Luke is out there.”

Sirius’ eyes flickered, but he nodded after a moment.

Remus didn’t have the time to try and figure him out. Not now. He reached for the door. “Come on—”

“Remus?”

Remus froze all over again, his hand on the handle. He felt Sirius shift uncomfortably beside him, and then Remus turned to see his little brother standing there on the bottom step, in his pajamas.

“Jules,” Remus breathed. “What are you doing awake?”

Julian’s eyes flicked from Sirius and back. “I heard you. There’s a storm.” He looked at their outfits. “Where are you going?”

“We have…” Remus trailed off. “We have to pick up a friend. I’ll be right back.”

Julian stepped down the last stair. “I want to come with you. Your gloves. Are you going—on the water?”

“No,” Remus said. “No, no, we’re—It’s…”

“I want to go with you. Can I?” Julian looked at the door. “I never get to. Mom says—“

“Jules,” Remus said, bending down and pressed his hand through Julian’s sleep mussed hair. “Julian. You have to stay. You have to stay here, okay? It’s really, really dangerous outside.”

“But you’re going outside.”

“I know,” Remus let his eyes fall shut for a moment. “I know I am.”

“I’ll tell mom.”

“No,” Remus pleaded. “Jules, please. We have to go and you have—you need to stay. Please. I’ll take you out on the Wolfsbane. I’ll do whatever you want, just—Please.”

Julian didn’t look convinced. 

“We have to go,” Sirius’ rough voice came. “Remus.”

Remus rose. “Julian, do not follow us. Wolfsbane, super early, mom never has to know. I’ll teach you. You know I’ve always wanted to teach you.”

Remus ruffled Julian’s hair, and then rose, turning to Sirius.

“Now,” he nodded towards the door.

It was a struggle, getting the tarp off while the wind whipped it back in their faces. Getting the sails straightened, but loose enough so that the mast wouldn’t swing right around once they cranked it back into the water. He kept them low.

Remus peered at Sirius, swiping a hand over his eyes. “We’ll have to use the motor. There’s no way I can control too much of this wind.”

Sirius nodded, but he looked panicked. “They could be—anywhere, already in the water.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Remus snapped. Sirius was all nerves, and they couldn’t afford that. “At least they won’t freeze to death. They’re not far from the coast.”

Remus was breathing hard by the time they swung themselves into the boat and were jetting haltingly away from the dock. The nose bowed this way and that, and Remus risked raising the sails, just a little. It seemed to straighten them out enough. His fingers already ached from the tight, adrenaline-filled grip he held on the lines. He didn’t dare tie it off, the might need to drop them quickly.

“The Cradle,” Sirius shouted against the wind.

“I know,” Remus yelled back. “We can’t go in the Horcrux. We’ll just get stuck. The boat won’t survive it, we’ll tip.”

“Fine,” Sirius said. He was just sitting there, water splashing over the sides and soaking their shoes.

Remus tossed him a bucket. “Bail.”

Sirius did, and pretty quickly, too, but the waves were high.

“This was fucking stupid,” Remus muttered to himself.

The Cradle rose up as if out of mist, and Remus could see its ring of water, swirling within. It was practically a tide-pool, vicious and smooth. It almost looked inviting, like some water-park ride. Remus eyed the sands swirling in the middle with half a mind going to the bedtime stories his grandfather had told him.

“A desert storm in the sea,” he breathed.

The rocks looked like jagged death sentences, and that was when he spied the two shapes, one on the rock closest to them, and the other all the way on the other side of the ring.

“There!” he shouted, and Sirius jolted up. “On the rocks, can you see them?”

Sirius nodded and tossed the bucket down in favor of catching up a rope. He began to fashion it into a sort of hook, a circle that could be slipped around the waist.

Remus wondered where he’d learned that, and Sirius seemed to read it on his face.

“Dumo,” he said, and wiped his sleeve over his face, trying to clear the rain. “How close can we get?”

“I don’t know,” Remus shouted, turning the boat into the next wave and letting it crest more safely over the nose. “Let’s go around, the rocks could wreck us.”

They came to Luke first.

Remus shouted his name twice before Luke looked up. He was clinging to one of the rocks, soaked to the bone and bleeding from a cut to his head. Remus looked to the water. There was no sign of their boat.

“Luke!” Remus shouted.

“Remus,” Luke’s voice sounded far away, though he was just feet from them. “Saint—I—I don’t see—”

“He’s there!” Sirius shouted, eyes trained on Saint’s figure on the other side of the ring. It was perfectly still. Sirius seemed to shake himself and held the rope high, feet spread wide to keep his balance as Remus kept having to turn the boat this way and that to keep their place in the waves. “Can you grab this if I throw it?”

Luke nodded, and his eyes slipped shut. Remus felt panic seize him.

“Yes,” Luke shouted. “Yes.”

“Hurry!” Remus urged. His arms were shaking already, and he still needed to get them over to Saint.

Sirius tossed the rope out. It was a good throw, but he nearly lost his balance doing it. Remus nearly let go of the sails going to catch him, the rope slipping dangerously through his fingers as he lunged to grab the back of Sirius’ jacket.

Sirius shook him off. “The sails!”

Remus leaned back on his heels to get the rope to stop pulling, his teeth clenched. “Just saved your life, your welcome,” he mumbled.

Sirius didn’t hear him.

“Around your waist!” he was shouting, and kept the rope free of the tiller as Remus brought them about again.

Luke followed his instructions shakily, slipping into the water on the outside of the rocks, where the pull would be straight instead of sideways. Sirius hauled him through the waves, and Luke pulled himself up onto the deck coughing.

“Luke,” Remus’ voice broke. He wanted to go to him, but he couldn’t let go. “Luke, Luke—”

“I’m okay,” Luke coughed out.

“Your head,” Remus couldn’t look to long as he let the changing wind guide them out farther towards the horizon, trying to find a calmer path.

Luke touched his fingers to his temple and looked down at the red that came away with them. “Oh.”

“Saint!” Sirius was shouting, but the moonlit silhouette on the rock wasn’t so much as stirring.

Remus had to weave them out four more times before they got close enough to the rock to see Saint’s face. He had a nasty slice that ran from his forehead to his cheek, the red dripping down his jaw and mouth in jagged, rain-washed lines.

“Saint!”

It was Sirius and Luke’s voice in unison this time.

Sirius cursed and tore off his jackets and gloves, then took the looped rope from around Luke, securing it tightly around his own waist instead. He looked at Luke. “You have to—”

“Pull him in,” Luke said, eyes on Saint. “I know.”

“And me,” Sirius snapped, then shouted Saint’s name again. There was still no response.

Remus was struck with the thought that Saint looked like something out of a myth. Odysseus, washed ashore, or a deadly Siren, luring them in, the passing sailors, for his next meal.

Sirius looked back at Remus, who could only stare back, horrified, as he dove into the water.

He surfaced farther away than Remus expected, carried towards the rocks by the powerful current. Luke cursed as the rope slid quickly through his hands.

“The gloves!” Remus shouted, and Luke tied the rope off for a moment, to shove them onto his hands. He kept it hooked around one of the boat railings, letting the boat bear some of Sirius and the sea’s weight.

There was a terrifying moment where Sirius nearly slipped right past the rock, but he held on, hauling himself up beside Saint’s body.

Remus brought the boat about again and whipped his head back to see if they were in the water yet. Sirius was touching Saint’s cheek, his mouth, and then he was wrapping him up in his arms. He slipped messily back into the water and Luke pulled hard. Remus could see his muscles shaking, his wound bleeding. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of all the times they’d played pirate. This wasn’t any sort of make-believe.

It was harder, getting Saint into the boat. Sirius had to cling to the side with one hand and try to lift him from the water with the other. Luke reached down and hauled Saint up by his arms, knocking Saint’s head against the rails in the process.

“Fuck,” Luke’s wind-snatched voice came.

Sirius tumbled over a moment later, spitting salt water and crawling on his hands and knees towards Saint. Luke was already there, listening for breath. Remus had never seen him look so scared. Not even when his father was taken away.

“Get us out of here!” Sirius shouted at him, and Remus didn’t waste energy being angry at him.

The closer they got to shore, the more scared Remus felt. Without the wildness of the storm would come the stillness of land. And if Saint—if he was—

“Breathe,” Luke was shouting as he pressed in even strokes on Saint’s chest. He plugged Saint’s nose and blew air into his lungs. “Breathe you fucking thief.”

Remus couldn’t watch. His eyes stung but he looked into the full-mooned dark—and he saw a shape. There was a silhouette of a boat, a rowboat, moving back and forth dangerously with the waves. Its sides were so low that it had to be filled with inches in water. They got closer, and Remus heard someone crying.

His heart gave a painful squeeze.

He knew that cry. He knew that boat.

“Julian!” the shout all but shredded his throat.

Julian’s small figure was barely keeping the oars in their nooks. The sailboat’s weak light lit his face in red. His hair was plastered against his forehead and his face was screwed up in fear.

“Remus!” his voice barely carried. “I—”

Remus didn’t even have time to see the wave before it threw Julian dangerously to the side. He screamed, and Remus thought he heard himself scream, too.

The rope slid along his palms as the sails swung around. He ducked beneath the metal bar and drove for the rowboat.

“Julian! Don’t move! Try to stay in the center!”

Sirius was at his side, rope in his hands.

Julian had his eyes squeezed shut as he felt his way through the water, up to his knees now, in the boat.

“Julian look at me! Look at me!” Remus shouted. “You have to catch this. Sirius is going to throw this to you, and you’re going to slip it around your waist—”

Julian’s eyes were wide and golden. “The sharks—”

Remus shook his head, a sob ripping from his throat. “There aren’t sharks now. There aren’t, now listen. You’re—“ The sails swung and he felt Sirius’ palm cover his head and push him down as the boat came around again. “You’re going to put this around your waist and make sure it’s tight, okay?” Then you’re going to jump in and we’re going to pull you up.”

Remus’ throat ached from shouting, but thin tendrils of relief shot through him when Julian nodded.

Sirius’ aim was true, and Julian almost lost it over the side, but he grabbed it quickly. He put it over his head, and pulled it tight, but look over the side of the boat timidly, then up at Remus.

“I can’t see the bottom,” Julian cried. “I don’t like not being able to—”

“Julian, you jump right now,” Remus said. “Right now, come to me, Jules.”

Julian closed his eyes and leapt.

He disappeared beneath the surface for a terrifying second, and then his head broke through again, gasping and spluttering when a wave hit him right away.

Remus distinctly heard coughing from behind him—Saint—and Luke cursing him out in a broken voice.

Sirius leaned over the side and pulled Julian up and into his arms.

“The sails,” Remus shouted at him, and Sirius took the ropes from his hands wordlessly. Remus dropped to his knees and pulled Julian, larger with his life-jacket on, against his chest.

“The row—” Julian began.

“Let it go,” Remus held onto him, maybe too tightly. “Let it go.”

~

Remus shut the door to Bane Tower too hard. It was blissfully warm inside. Julian was wrapped in every blanket that Remus had been able to find and clutching a cup of hot chocolate from the electric kettle they kept down here. Sirius was crouched beside him, having been holding Remus’ place until he returned from securing the Wolfsbane. Saint and Luke were standing by the stairs, still dripping, with more blankets around their shoulders. There were clusters of bloody paper towels where Luke had been taping up Saint’s gash when Remus had left for the boat after letting them in. Luke’s own wound looked clean now, and more like a bruise.

Remus didn’t look at any of them, just stared at Julian, sitting there with a tear stained face, safe. He’d never known relief and guilt could feel so similar.

“Lupin,” Saint broke the silence softly, then cleared his throat. It was still rough from the salt water that had been in his lungs. He stepped forward “Remus—”

“I almost lost my little brother,” Remus said lowly, and then it was like he really realized it, and he crossed the room to shove Saint backwards. “And you would not have been worth it. You never would have been worth it.”

“Re—“ Luke stepped forward.

“No,” Remus shouted. “No.”

Saint’s lips pressed into a thin line. He swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, Remus.”

Remus turned his back, trying to catch his breath. Sirius stepped out of his way as he went to Julian, clutching his shivering body close to him. He couldn’t look at them, at Luke. Not now.

“I won’t tell mom,” Julian mumbled through his chattering teeth.

“Shh,” Remus whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. He smelled like he had always smelled, even when Remus had first held him as a baby. Even through the salt of the sea. He felt his own lip tremble. “It’s okay.”

The walls creaked dangerously in the winds. At least it was dry. They were all silent, the only sound their panting breaths, until Remus looked up when Sirius rose. He walked straight at Saint and shoved him hard in the chest, too. Saint stumbled backwards like he had expected it. His eyes looked gold in the dim light, and understanding.

“I know,” Saint said.

“What were you thinking?” Sirius’ voice was uneven. Luke looked down.

“Sometimes I don’t,” Saint replied with his familiar evenness.

Sirius just let out a shuddering sound, pushed Saint again, but caught his blanket hem at the last minute and pulled him against his chest. He cupped a hand against Saint’s cheek and kissed him with a bruising pressure. Remus let his eyes trail over the way Saint’s fingers knotted in the back of Sirius’ shirt. Luke turned away. Remus wished he could, but instead he watched Sirius pull away slowly, then brush their lips together once more, with a pain in his chest.

Remus was so angry with himself for feeling any of that at all right now that he almost didn’t stop them from leaving when it was time. But this was just the beginning, the first wave.

“There’s going to be more and it’s only going to get worse,” he sighed instead. Sirius looked up at him. He was at Saint’s shoulder like he couldn’t move away. “You can’t stay in the Hollow.”

~

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a room with AC, and, as if reading his mind, Saint suddenly threw their covers back and cracked both of the windows open, just enough to let the humid night air in without the rain. Thunder rolled. Sirius watched his silhouette squint at the thermostat in the dark, and heard the faint beep as he turned it off. He hadn’t realized how loud the machine had been until all was quiet save for the storm, and Saint was slipping back beneath the covers.

They lay there beside each other, a feeling that was as familiar to Sirius as breathing. So, why did it feel so strange?

“You could have died,” Sirius said into the dark.

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius looked over at him. Saint didn’t often apologize. That was twice in one night.

“I don’t even know…” Sirius shook his head up at the ceiling, trying to get the image of Saint’s lifeless body out of his head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I kissed him,” Saint said, and Sirius turned his head. Saint was staring at him already. “I kissed him.”

“You kiss me all the time.”

“You kissed me in front of him.”

“And you wish I hadn’t?” Sirius asked.

Saint seemed to be trying to play it all out in his head, eyes far away. He looked back at the ceiling.

“No. I love being with you. Touching you. Laughing or fucking or surfing. I was just scared. You were just scared, though. Maybe I’m always just scared.”

“Being scared isn’t really a just feeling. It’s important.”

“Maybe he’ll get the wrong impression. Go all—soft on me.” Saint flicked his eyes towards Sirius. “You never do that. You just treat me like I’m me. Not a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a best friend or a lover just…two people.” Saint closed his eyes. “Just two people who are doing what makes them happy. What feels good or right.”

“This is what you’re thinking about right now?” Sirius scoffed. “You almost died.”

Saint took a slow breath in. “I didn’t want to. I wanted live so badly. But for what?” Saint looked at Sirius again, and this time, there was fear there. “I don’t even know who I am. Why should I want things if I don’t even know that?”

Sirius let that sink in. He wanted everything for Saint, but, most of all, he wanted to see that cross ripped from around his neck.

“Maybe living is about finding out who you are. You’re allowed to change, Saint. Your name…anything.” Sirius reached for Saint’s hands beneath the covers and Saint held on tight. “And I’m going to love you through it all. In whatever way, in all the ways, we do love.”

Saint stayed quiet for a moment, and then he turned onto his side and Sirius mirrored him. They rested their foreheads together. Saint’s free hand clutched his cross.

“I’m so tired of being number seven,” Saint whispered.

“You were never number seven,” Sirius whispered back, stroking a hand through Saint’s hair. “You’re you.”

~

Remus and Luke lay in Remus’ bed. Remus had Julian tucked against his outer side, sound asleep, and Luke may not have been as close, but Remus could feel his body heat as they stared up at the ceiling in silence.

“Thanks for not making me go home,” Luke broke the quiet.

Remus nodded. “Yeah.”

“Saint’s probably going to steal something from your guest bedroom,” Luke mumbled.

“Hasn’t he taken enough?” Remus replied quietly.

He could see that Luke looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“It wasn’t just his fault,” he said insistently. “I went out there, too.”

“And the others?”

“Leo wouldn’t let them go. He said it was too dangerous. Which,” Luke sighed. “Which of course only made Saint want to go more.”

“And you went with him?” Remus turned to look at him, too. They were so close that their noses nearly brushed. “Luke.”

“I need answers, Re,” Luke whispered urgently. His brown-green eyes were pleading. “I can’t stay in that house, not with the way it is. I need…”

“We need to get off of this island.”

“Leaving won’t help my dad.”

“Neither will getting yourself killed,” Remus snapped, then closed his eyes. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

Luke shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re right.”

Remus swallowed, focusing on the green in Luke’s eye. He reached up with the hand resting between them, and brushed his finger just below it. “Captain Green-Sea.”

Luke blinked, and the faintest of smiles crossed his face. It had been his pirate name, when they were younger, named after the sliver of green that shone out of the brown in his right iris.

“Captain Wolfsbane,” Luke whispered back. “We loved that game.”

“I’m worried you thought it was a game tonight.”

Luke’s brows drew together. “No. It’s the opposite. I feel—like I’m missing something he left me, Re. Like my dad is trying to…Saint helped me.” Luke swallowed and brought his hand up to Remus’ cheek. “You helped me. Thank you.”

Remus didn’t dare move when he felt Luke’s thumb brush his lower lip.

“You know,” Luke whispered. “Sometimes I wish we…”

Remus nodded gently. “I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine,” Remus replied, then smiled, just a little. “That means more to me than anything else.”

Luke smiled, too, and tapped his thumb twice on Remus’ chin before slipping their hands together and squeezing tight. Remus closed his eyes, feeling more settled than he expected to tonight.

“My head fucking hurts,” Luke said after a while.

Remus snorted and held Julian closer. “That’s your own fault.”

“I do love you, you know,” Luke added after another moment.

Remus squeezed his hand again. “I love you, too.”

“Captain Wolfsbane,” Luke’s voice sounded more asleep now.

Remus just smiled.

#relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #harry potter #cw above #lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #Luke deveaux #saint #st tweedle #jily

[your-highnessmarvel]

Rain and Fire

I did a mash up of two requests I got from Anonymous: would you do a Loki meets child he never knew he had kinda fic? Thanks + may I request an angsty fic where Loki finds out the reader, women he loves is pregnant but it’s unplanned as he never wanted kids 

A/N: yall really like loki with kids huh, alright let’s do this. thanks for the awesome requests! I gave loki a son because i did a similar story but with a daughter.

Warnings: angst mfs

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

Request Guidelines

MASTERLIST

Dark storm clouds amassed overhead as Y/N trudged through the water, breathless, hair hanging in ropes each side of her head. Her dress, white and gold, clung to her body like a glove. It clung to her throat, and she had to rip it in half to be able to breathe. It clung to her thighs, too heavy, unable to allow her to walk up the gritty sand. It clung to her breasts, and to her waist, and to the small lump of her belly. 

She held herself as she walked up the beach, shivering, the dark clouds above thundering with incoming rain. 

She replayed the last thing she’d said to Loki before running away. 

“How could you not tell me!” he yelled, the wind ripping at his hair. He stood inches from Y/N, holding her shoulders painfully. 

“You never wanted one, and then... you left!” she yelled over the wind. 

His eyes, those green gems she loved so much, bored into her face, as if searching for something that wasn’t there. “I was...” His fingers turned gentle on her shoulders. “I was scared, Y/N.”

She looked down, ripping herself from his grasp. “You’re a fugitive, Loki.”

He rolled his eyes, the wind curling in his hair, turning his cheeks pink. “What I did on Midgard is nothing,” he groaned. 

Y/N frowned, curling her fingers into her dress. “You killed and destroyed and you - “

“You don’t get it!” he yelled over the sudden roar of the wind. “I had to!”

Again, the frown. “Had to?”

Over the bridge, where they stood, Y/N saw a brigade on white horses storm down from the castle. They were after Loki. They were after him and everything he’d done to the universe. Her eyes watered, anger blooming in her chest like a flower in the sun. 

“I have to go,” she muttered. “If they find out that I’m... if they figure it out, they’ll keep me here. You know that.”

He reached out for her, jaw clenched, conflict storming in his features. “I won’t let them.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Loki,” she sighed. “There’s a brigade coming for you right now. If they don’t get you here, they will somewhere else. You know that.”

He looked down at her belly, at the jutting roundness peering from the soft silk of her dress. Then he looked up, hands in fists, jaw clenched until a muscle twitched. 

He let her go. She walked out on him, holding and carrying with her a piece of him. She crossed the Bifrost, in the pouring rain. And while he was being cuffed and dragged, she was trudging through wet sand, crying. 

Six Years Later

Through a maze of a winding road, lined by knee-high weeds and sunburnt rocks, walks a man. His heels are sore from walking, toes bleeding in his boots. The soles burnt and clawed open. Someone had ripped his trousers at the knees, blood, dried and black, crusting on the frayed edges. 

His shirt is dirty with mud and blood. His coat is decaying; the leather peeling like skin burning. His hair has been cut short, just above his ears, and curls from the sweat on his scalp. 

His mouth is pink and cracked and molding words lost to the wind. 

He knows where he is going. He’s known for a while now. The walk was long, but now he is here. The weeds stretch on to become a field. Vanaheim has lots of those; fields. 

Ahead in the field is a small shack, burdened by years of sun and rain and wind and thunder. There’s someone sitting on the porch. They get up, put a hand to shield their eyes from the sun.

Loki stops, examines the horizon. No one could have possibly followed him here. He faked his death. He was sure that no one - absolutely no one - knew where he was right now. 

Up ahead, the shack shimmers. The person holds a hand to their chest. Loki prays that it is the person he wants it to be, and surely, it is. Y/N stands on the porch, black trousers and a armored shirt. 

Why does she need armor? he thinks. 

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because she’s clambering down the porch, hands gripping the rail and flying off like she has wings. And she might as well. 

She’s running so fast that the wind rips at her braid and it comes loose and her face is torn, so torn, weeping and wailing. 

Didn’t she want him to leave, all those years ago? Hadn’t she been the one to walk away?

He didn’t have time to ponder the question because her body crashed into him so hard that he stumbled back, back against the dirt ground, hands braced on her back. She clings to him like the water clung to her dress, to her pregnant belly six years ago, and she’s crying something to him but he can’t hear. All he hears is the beat of her heart against his chest because she is pressing herself so hard against him. He can feel the strands of her hair on his raw cheeks. Her fingers clinging to his shoulders. Her breath against his neck. Her tears on his shirt. 

“Y/N.” His voice is coarse, raw from disuse. “Y/N.”

And finally he can hear the wind and the buzzing of insects and the swaying of weeds in the air. And he can hear her voice. 

“I’m sorry,” she’s crying. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t want her apology. Or her tears. He just wants her. 

He takes her head in his hands, cradles it like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. Her tears have stained her face. Her cheeks are wet. Her lashes crystallized with water. Her lips are open, but he doesn’t want to hear anything else. 

He kisses her and his world shifts into place because he’s been locked away for six years and no one has touched him. No one has been gentle or tender or kind to him. All he’s felt is cold. All he’s seen is darkness. 

But Y/N is warm and lithe and soft in his hands, molded to his body. She’s gentle as she splays her hands on his shoulders. Tender with her mouth. Kind with her tears. 

And finally she pulls back and gasps lowly, raking her eyes over him. “Oh, Loki,” she whispers. “What have they done to you.”

He looks at her; her eyes and her jaw and her ears. She’s changed. She’s beautiful. 

“Where is...” He can’t finish his sentence. His voice cracks. He doesn’t even know what it is. Its name. 

Her eyes alight and her mouth parts. She gets up, dusts herself, helps him to his feet, steers him towards the house. He’s pained, leaning on her, eyes searching the horizon for it. 

“It’s a boy,” Y/N murmurs, one hand on his chest to help him along. 

He searches and searches until there, on the porch, a little boy stands. Eyes squinted. Black hair curled around his ears. 

Loki doesn’t have to ask. That’s his alright. 

“He knows about you,” Y/N continues as they make their way, little by little, up the road. “He’s been waiting. As have I.”

Loki frowns. “Waited?”

Y/N shrugs. “You always make it back.” She laughs and the sound is delightful. “Somehow.”

The boy is lean when they get to the porch. He’s tall for his age, mischievous around the eyes, cocky around the brows. His jaw is round, his forehead wide. His eyes icy blue. 

He doesn’t say anything as he watches his father get dragged into the house. His mouth remains closed, a little skeptic, a little intrigued. But he walks into the house anyway, smelling the familiarity of his father, listening to the soft breathing of him. 

Loki lays on the bed. Y/N prepares something hot to drink. The boy looks at his father. 

“You’re taller than I’d imagined,” the boy says. Loki smirks. He hasn’t done that in a very long time. 

“You’re smarter.”

And the boy smirks, mirroring his father, and Loki feels hope. 

#loki #loki imagine #imagine loki #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki fanfiction #lokixyou #lokixyn #lokixreader #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x reader #loki angst #lokixy/n #loki x y/n #loki request #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson

[writer-k-pop]

The Paramedic (c.v.n) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death, mentions of blood, one gun shot Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 3.4k / Ending B - 3.5k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Did he just arrive?" I ask Yong when I reach the top of the main staircase where she stands. My heart flutters realizing that he finally has arrived. Vernon.

"Mun Hee just checked him in." Yong answers with a nod, "Soon Bok is showing him to his room now."

"What's his room number?" I question, leaning against the rail watching our guests mill around in the lobby.

"182." She responds.

I nod, "How, uh, how did he look?" I ask with some hesitation, unsure if I truly want to know the answer.

"He looked well. His cheeks are full and his appearance is full." Yong tells me, "From his appearance, I'd say he had a fulfilling last life."

"How many days?" I ask, standing up straight.

"Five." Yong simple answers.

"Five days." I breath out. "A good amount."

"We'll set up the garden for you on the last day." Yong informs me then moves onto other information, "The new volleyball net has been installed in the beach. Would you like to go inspect it?"

I pucker my lips, "Do I have to?" I ask, hoping I could slip away and be a recluse.

Yong shakes her head. "No, I really think you should go check it out."

"Do I have to?" I repeat my question, now pouting slightly more.

Yong gives me the 'really?' look just as Jiwoo joins us.

"Do you have to what?" He asks.

"Yong wants me to go inspect the new volleyball net outside." I explain.

"OH!" Jiwoo's eyes brighten, "You should totally go inspect it."

I scrunch my face at him, "What are you talking about? It's just a volleyball net."

Jiwoo rolls his eyes, "Still, you haven't been outside in a while and it'll be good to get some Vitamin D on your skin." He attempts to persuade me and physically starts pushing me towards the beach.

"Vitamin D!" Yong repeats, "That's so important for your skin and your health."

"I'm dead." I remind her in a monotone.

"You have a body and a body needs taking care of." Yong argues.

"This body is dead." I say flatly, purposely digging my heels so it's harder for Jiwoo.

Jiwoo notices and stops pushing, "I swear to the Gods, (y/n), I will carry you over my shoulder if I have to." He threatens.

I look back at him funny, "Like you have the muscles for that."

Jiwoo unbuttons his shirt cuffs, challenging me.

Not wanting to be unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder, I surrender. "Fine, I believe you. Let's just go see this net."

Jiwoo slings an arm over my shoulders and smiles happily. "You'll love it." He tells me.

"I'm sure." I say unhappily.

The bright sunlight makes my eyes squint nearly shut. My feet sink into the warm sand and I wrestle my heels off my feet, letting the gritty sand weasel between my toes. Off to the right, near the little shed where the beach things are stored, four people are playing beach volleyball with a net sitting tall and shiny in the middle.

I sigh, "It looks nice."

"Doesn't it?" Yong says dreamily.

"I think we should get some more, having just one doesn't seem like enough." Jiwoo comments.

"If you find room for it in our finances, then by all means, run it by me first though." I tell him with a half smile.

"He's all settled in." Soon Bok's voice says from behind us.

I turn around to face her and clasp my hands behind my back, "Thank you."

Soon Bok bows and takes her leave. I follow almost immediately.

"Where are you going?" Jiwoo asks, catching up to me. Yong goes off to do her own duties.

"To the bar." I tell him.

"Drinking to celebrate?" He suggests hopeful.

"Drinking to forget." I dip my head to the side.

Jiwoo's mouth drops open in an 'oh' then thinks about how he should respond.

"You don't have to respond." I tell him as we reach the elevators. "Just work on finding room for another net. I'm sure the guests would appreciate it."

"I can do that." Jiwoo says as the elevator makes its arrival with a chime.

I give him a nod before stepping into the elevator and pressing the sky bar floor.

~The Fifth Day~

BANG!

The sound of a gun going off and car tires screeching away stops me in my tracks. I whip around and Sang Kyu is laying on the sidewalk, blood staining his clothes and pooling around his torso.

I scream. Not because of what I see. But because the Gods would take Sang Kyu away from me in such a gruesome way. Anger is behind the scream, not sadness. I know he'll go on to live more lives but why are they pulling him away from me now?

Kneeling onto the hard ground, I let the concrete dig into my knees as a few bystanders gather and one even presses his hands against Sang Kyu's wound to help stop the bleeding. But I know it's no use.

My human managers never get into bodily harm, never get into accidents, they never even get sick. With this accident, I know Sang Kyu's not going to make it.

Hot tears filled with anger aimed at the Gods stream down my face. Someone lowers themselves next to me and asks if I'm okay. But I can't process their voice because my heart beat is beating so loudly. I can only see their mouth moving.

Somehow, through the pounding of my heart, the approaching sirens break through the haze. In what feels like mere milliseconds, two police cars and an ambulance screech to a halt. Officers and paramedics come rushing towards Sang Kyu.

The person next to me waves over an officer but my eyes are trained on the two paramedics hovering over Sang Kyu's body.

"I don't have a pulse." The taller paramedic informs the other. "I'm starting CPR. Get the air bag." He instructs but the other paramedic doesn't move. His eyes are trained on Sang Kyu's face.

"Vernon!" The taller paramedic yells and breaks Vernon out of his haze.

I hear the officer talking to me but I ignore his words and just watch Vernon. He moves and grabs items as needed but his hands are frantic. I know he's trained to keep his calm in emergency situations but the amount that his hands are shaking tells me that he is having a hard time.

At this point, my tears have dried and a new wave of anger rumbles through my body. Not only do they take away Sang Kyu but they also send Vernon to the scene to try and save a soul that isn't going to be saved. They are making Vernon experience this death as if my pain won't be intertwined with his in unexplainable ways.

Soon more paramedics arrive and Vernon voluntarily backs away. He searches the crowds quickly and spots me behind him. When he reaches me still sitting on the sidewalk, he kneels in front of me, grabs my shoulders and looks worriedly into my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Vernon asks, shaking me slightly to get my attention even though he's had it this entire time. (y/n)." He says my name but I keep my mouth tightly shut, afraid that the anger would speak for me.

Vernon sighs and looks to the ground before meeting my gaze again. This time his eyes are filled with sadness.

"Just, can you nod or shake your head for me?" He nearly begs, "I need to know, are you okay?"

I shakily nod my head then pause then slowly shake my head as the sadness finally arrives. Vernon catches me as I fall into his arms with tears cascading down my cheeks and my heart breaking into a million pieces. While I grip onto his jacket for dear life, he strokes my hair and holds me tight.

His grip tightens when we hear the paramedics unfold a sheet to place over Sang Kyu's body.

I look up and follow the sidewalk to where Sang Kyu lays. But just before I get one last look at his face...

"Sang Kyu!" I yell and jump to my feet. Turning around, I realize I'm standing in front of the biggest couch in my office. Running my hands through my hair, I blow out a breath to try and control my rapidly beating heart.

"It was just a dream." I mutter to myself, then wonder, "When did I fall asleep?"

Blowing out another breath, I walk over to the window where the moon sits low in the sky. The Man on the Moon nowhere to be seen.

My office doors open and a pair of confident footsteps enter my room.

"He's waiting for you." Yong informs me, stopping a few feet away.

I take a few more moments and a few more deep breaths before turning towards the door.

"Take all the time you need." Yong tells me, shutting the doors behind us, "Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and I can manage." As I stay silent, Yong takes her leave and allows me to walk alone to my private garden where Vernon awaits my arrival.

I walk with heavy steps, my clothes seem to weigh several pounds and drag behind me. It has been a long while since I last saw Vernon and I can't help but let my heart replay every detail of that love.

When I arrive at the entrance to the garden, a bench has been placed in the middle of the open space between me and my tree. And sitting on the bench, with his back to me, is Vernon.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and then make my way towards the bench. Slowly, I sit down next to him, not daring a look in his direction.

"They told me that five was a pretty average amount." Vernon says softly, "Is that true?"

"On average, every soul has somewhere between 5 and 9 lives." I answer him, honestly. "So, yes, you did live an average amount."

"That's comforting." Vernon lets out a breath and slouches back, "How long did you wait for me?" He asks.

"A long time." I answer and look over him. His face hasn't changed and the calm expression he always wore has returned. His eyes still shine with determination.

"And when this day ends, I won't remember any lives?" He questions.

I shake my head, "No, your soul will return to its original state. The one that interacted with the Gods."

"Can I ask a question?" Vernon changes the direction and sits up.

"Ask away." I nod.

"Do you hate me for that night?" He asks and I'm taken aback by such a serious question.

"Which night?" I probe, slightly confused why he would think I could hate him.

Vernon cleared his throat, "The night I couldn't save your friend."

My body slumps back as the memory surfaces.

I was out with Sang Kyu, my Human Manager at the time. We were walking back to the hotel when a bullet came out of nowhere and hit Sang Kyu. A bystander had called an ambulance and Vernon’s had been the closest to where we were.

Vernon tried to do everything to save Sang Kyu but in the end, he didn't make it.

I shake my head vigorously, "Absolutely not." I tell him and grab his hand, "I couldn't hate you when you did everything to try and save him."

"But I could've done more." He comments, squeezes my hand.

"No, you couldn't have." I say, "The Gods said that life for Sang Kyu was done. Even I couldn't stop something like that."

"Then why did you leave?" Vernon asks, his eyes meeting mine, pleading to give him an answer.

I lower my head before bringing it back up.

"I couldn't stay." I simply answer.

"But you said you loved me and I said it too." Vernon continues, "And then you just vanished."

I smile softly, "I just couldn't stay. The Gods wouldn't let me." I tell him, remembering the night we said we loved each other and the subsequent note left on my desk that simply read 'It's time to leave.'

"I really did love you." Vernon scoots closer.

"I did, too." I tell him and he wraps an arm around my shoulders, closing the distance between us. I sink into his familiar warmth and smile happily.

"Did you ever miss me?" I ask, listening the echo of a beating heart that's now passed.

"After you left?" Vernon clarifies and I simply nod against his shirt. "Of course I did. For the first year I searched everywhere for you. I couldn't really believe that you would leave like that but I never could stay mad at you. I was always just worried."

He pauses and runs a hand mindlessly through my hair, "Even throughout the rest of my life, I would wonder about you from time to time. Where you were, what you were doing, how you were feeling. I was always just wondering. When I was raising my kids, I tried to teach them what you taught me about strength, even if it was only a fraction of what you had. I tried to remind myself of you. Cause I just couldn't forget you." Vernon presses a kiss to my forehead. "You didn't forget about me, did you?"

I shake my head, "Of course not. But it hurt to think about you because I didn't know when I'd see you again."

"Well, I'm here now." He mutters and squeezes me closer.

"Can I ask you a question?" I use his earlier sentence.

Vernon curtly nods, "Shoot."

"When did you know you loved me?" I ask, needing to hear the answer for myself.

"Like the exact moment?" Vernon questions.

I nod.

Vernon tilts his head to the side in thought, "Oh geez, I feel like I gradually fell deeper and deeper."

"There was no significant moment?" I ask, hoping to get something out of him.

"What about you?" He suddenly turns the question to me. "When did you know?"

I take in a breath, "The night you tried to save Sang Kyu." I tell him without hesitation. "I just remember watching you do everything in your power to try and save him. I remember how worried you were for me. It's something that one doesn't forget. How tightly you held me when we got to the hospital but he had already passed. That's when I knew I loved you."

Vernon looks at me in awe then smiles, "I think the moment where I could really say 'I love her' for the first time was the day I came home after a terrible night shift. We had a prank call about a baby not breathing and went on a wild goose chase for an hour. Then the very next call was a couple who had gotten into a bad car accident but I never got to hear whether or not they lived until two days later."

"Why that night?" I ask.

"Because when I came home, I was expecting an empty home but you had come over because something felt off." Vernon explains, "And I didn't even have to tell you what had happened. You just opened your arms and let me fall apart. You just knew. I could feel it in the way you patted my back, the way you kept whispering words of encouragement, the way you just stayed with me. That's when I knew I loved you and I wanted to come home to you every day."

I close my eyes and let the memory sink into my conscious.

"Is this the tree you were always talking about?" Vernon wonders, "The one that you hated but had to protect?"

I open my eyes and stare blankly at the bare tree standing front of us. "Unfortunately."

"It's bigger than you made it out to be." Vernon comments, tilting his head side to side.

"It's been here as long as I have so it's got a lot of years." I tell him, closing an eye and pretending to flick the trunk with my fingers.

"So, how long have you actually been here?" Vernon asks, taking a hold of my outstretched hand.

"Longer than you can even imagine." I tell him.

"Try me." He challenges.

And that's how we spend the next few hours. Answering each other's questions about our lives and reliving the shared memories.

He tells me about his kids and what they grew up to be like. He tells me about the adventures they went on as a family. I tell him about what life was like living through the centuries in a hotel that served as a souls last stop before rest.

The setting sun shines through the window, illuminating the garden in a fire-y glow. As the bottom of the sun grazes the horizon signifying the end of his five day stay, I know it's time.

He knows it too.

His grip on my shoulder tells me he doesn't want to go. And frankly, neither do I.

But he has to go and I have to wait for the others.

"What happens now?" He asks.

"You will ride the car that'll take you to your final resting place. And I will continue to be here until I meet the others." I explain to him. "We should get going." I whisper, not moving a muscle, "Shin'll be waiting for us."

"Can't I spend one more day with you?" Vernon asks, nearly begging.

I pull away from him and shake my head sadly. "There are rules here. Rules that need to be followed. And one of them is that souls aren't allowed to stay longer than permitted."

"Damn my average number of lives." Vernon tries to joke and it only brings a tiny smile to my face.

Part of me really doesn't want to let him go, but the other part of me is relieved that his soul will be resting and at peace for eternity.

Vernon stands up, then turns and holds out both hands. I look up at him and instead of the a front of sadness like I'd expected, Vernon looks down at me with a soft happiness. No regrets, a smidgen of sadness, and a large amount of happiness that he was able to see me one last time.

Returning his small smile, I grab both of his hands and we slowly make our way out of the garden towards the forest that backs the hotel. The forest where souls depart from.

Where Grim Reaper Shin is waiting to take Vernon's soul to its final resting place.

The cool night air dances around us as we walk outside, hand in hand. The moon shines down on us with a soft white-grey glow.

Just as expected, Shin stands next to a waiting black town car.

When we approach the car, Shin opens the rear passenger door and simply waits for Vernon to enter.

"Will I ever see you again?" Vernon turns to face me, squeezing my hand tightly.

"You might." I answer, "But I don't know if we'll remember each other."

"I hope we do." Is all Vernon says before crashing his lips onto mine.

For a few seconds, our lips dance together, solidifying the memories of our love. When he pulls away, tears line both of our eyes.

"Don't you forget me." He whispers.

"I won't." I whisper back, afraid that any louder and my voice won't work.

Vernon presses one more quick kiss to my lips then wraps me up in a hug. With a deep breath, he releases me and walks to the car. He pauses just inside the door and turns back for one last look.

I use every muscle in my body to stay upright and to not let a single tear fall. Not yet.

I watch as Vernon ducks into the car and Shin closes the door. A couple seconds later, the car begins to drive away into the foggy forest. Just before the car completely disappears, Vernon looks back and waves.

I wave back but in a blink of an eye, he and the car disappear. As my hand lowers back down to my side, I let the first tear fall, then the second. Then the tears continuously fall from my eyes as I cry with a longing for Vernon.

As I let go of my tears, one of the chrysanthemums surrounding my bare tree withers and dies.

When my tears dry, long after Shin leaves, I dry my cheeks and take deep breaths. Holding my head up, I turn back towards the hotel, cradling my broken heart. I head back up to my room, where I will piece it back together and wait for the others.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"So what happens now?" He asks.

"Well, since you were my first love and you are the last one I'm meeting, my punishment is over and I can follow you to the afterlife and finally rest." I explain. "There were thirteen chrysanthemums standing there for over a thousand years. And with each love I met here, one of them died and I was a step closer to being free."

"That last one is mine?" Vernon nods towards the single chrysanthemum still standing at the base of my tree.

"It's been waiting for you since the day I left." I tell him with a smile.

Vernon walks over to it and plucks it from the ground. "I do believe this belongs to you." He says and places it on my ear. "And I do believe we have a ride waiting for us." He holds out a hand and I gladly take the help up.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a little annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did.

Next to Jiwoo, I also thank him for his and his family's service and I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

She looks at the flower on my ear, "You know, I never did like the way those flowers looked."

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Vernon grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Vernon and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is lined with string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Vernon softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Vernon securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

#kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen vernon #seventeen vernon imagine #vernon imagine #chwe vernon imagine #chwe vernon #vernon #waning crescent hotel #writer-k-pop

[art-in-the-sunlight]

Marooned in the Caribbean

By: @art-in-the-sunlight for @comingupwriting in the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange (and a huge thank you to @jelly-pies for beta reading and editing).

Rating: General Audiences. There’s a few depictions of violence and two characters drown (but they survive). No character deaths.

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark, May Parker, Pepper Potts/Stark, a mention of Happy Hogan

Summary:  Peter celebrates his seventeenth birthday with May, Tony, Morgan and Pepper on Tony's yacht. However, trouble strikes in the shape of a horrible storm which sends Peter and Morgan into the ocean. How will they survive?

Prompt chosen: Peter protecting Morgan with a touch of Everyone Lives!Au domestic life of the ironfam.

Ao3 link  Enjoy :)

“... and Happy Birthday to Petey!” Morgan sings at the top of her lungs before jumping into Peter’s arms, barely missing the candles in front of him. 

“Aww thanks guys!” Peter grins looking around at his friends and family. Tony had invited him and May to his yacht to celebrate Peter’s 17th birthday. Peter turns back to Morgan. “Do you want to help me blow out the candles?” 

“Yea!” Morgan turns to the cake, and blows out all the candles in one attempt. 

“Woah! Are you sure you’re not the one turning 17?” Peter jokes, earning a giggle from Morgan. 

“Alright there kiddos, it’s cake time!” May pulls out a fork, takes a piece of icing and holds it up for Peter to taste. As Peter takes a bite, he hears the shutter of a camera and turns to Pepper with a smile. 

“Aww that’s a great picture.” Pepper smiles back at him kindly. 

“My turn!” Morgan jumps out of Peter’s arms.

“I don’t know about that… Did she eat all her vegetables yesterday?” Tony pretends to think about it, turning to Pepper. 

“Hmm.. I don’t remember. But I suppose if she promised to eat all of them tonight…” Pepper mimics Tony’s expression, hiding a smile.

“I promise! I’ll eat it!”

Everyone laughs. “Alright, Morgana. But only one slice. They’ll be more after dinner, if you want.”

Morgan nods eagerly, and impatiently waits as Pepper and Tony cut and distribute the cake. 

May pulls Peter into her side and presses a kiss on his forehead. “Happy birthday, Peter. I love you.”

Peter leans into her and closes his eyes contentedly as May runs her fingers through his hair. “Love you too, May.” 

Pepper hands Peter a slice of chocolate drip cake. Peter finishes it, leans back and looks around at his family. He had really gotten lucky, all things considered. A few months ago - well, 5 years ago really, an alien named Thanos had come to earth with the infinity stones and turned half the population of everything in the entire universe to dust, him and May included. 

A few months ago, Tony and the rest of the Avengers had put together a desperate attempt using time travel - Peter was still spotty on the details - but long story short, they brought everyone back, and survived. It was a close call for Black Widow and Tony, the former was paralyzed from the waist down from a fall on an alien planet, and Tony had lost his arm.

But all of that was in the past. The important point was everyone was alive, they defeated possibly the toughest villain ever and got their happy ever after. There would always be more villains for the Avengers to defeat and more muggers and thieves for Peter to web up in New York but that was normal. 

Peter snapped out of his train of thought when Tony sat down next to him and slung his nanotech arm around Peter. “What do you think, kiddo? Birthday party up to your standards?”

Peter laughs. “Mr. Stark, we’re on a yacht in the Caribbean ocean! This-this is amazing!”

Tony’s expression seems to soften, into a gentle smile. “Anything for you, kiddo.” 

Peter leans into Tony’s embrace but doesn’t say anything. It’s a comfortable silence. Before the blip, he and Tony had grown close. Peter had never said anything but somewhere between patrolling New York City together, training and fighting, and upgrading their suits and working in the lab together, Peter had stopped thinking of Tony as genius, billionaire, superhero, philanthropist and more along the lines of… father. Dad. 

Based on what he managed to piece together from Tony's behaviour, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey and the other Avengers's comments about Tony during the blip, Tony thought of him as his son too. Just the thought of it filled Peter’s chest with warmth. 

“Daaaaaad! Mom says that we have to go inside!” Morgan runs up to Tony and Peter, and points to the left. A massive… cloud -  if it could even be called that - is rolling in. Peter sees flashes of lightning inside the massive cloud.

“Yea okay. Morgana, help Peter take the chairs inside?” Tony stands up and stretches, before moving to the yacht sails. The gesture seems unconcerned but Peter can see a line of tension in Tony’s expression when he looks at the cloud.

Peter’s spidey senses tingle when he looks back at the cloud, and he gets a dark feeling which sends goosebumps up his arms. “That storm seems pretty big.”

Tony smiles at Peter reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. I outfitted this ship myself. She has nanotech in her walls, along with FRIDAY. If all else fails, I can call a suit.”

~ ~ ~

An hour later, everything is decidedly not okay. The yacht is swaying side to side in the ten foot waves, each time coming closer and closer to flipping over. Pepper, May and Peter are huddled together on the sofa, while Tony taps angrily at the yacht’s interface. The storm was interfering with FRIDAY’s connection. 

Morgan presses her nose against the door staring outside. Peter supposes that if he could get past the dark feeling from his spidey senses, the dark scene with waves crashing and lightning flashing would’ve made quite the enjoyable scene.

As if on cue, Pepper looks up and spots Morgan. “Morgan! Come here!”

“No! I want to watch the lightning!” 

“Morg-” Pepper’s response is lost as something dark flies and knocks the door open. A large branch slides into the center of the room, quickly followed by gallons of water. Morgan falls and screams in terror. 

The room instantly explodes into chaos. Tony, Peter and Pepper instantly jump up and lunge to grab Morgan. The yacht sways in the opposite direction, and the branch and ocean water slide out, along with Morgan. Tony and Pepper’s fingers scantily miss Morgan by centimetres. Peter jumps up to the ceiling, sticks there for a millionth of a second and then throws himself at Morgan as she slides out the door.  

He catches her - in fact he nearly lands on top of her. He has a moment of relief, where he wraps Morgan in his arms tight. A split second later, he realizes his mistake. He used too much force, and now the momentum, along with the yacht’s slick deck sends them both over the yacht rail into the roaring ocean. 

He hits the water head first and it’s agony. He feels like someone with his strength had punched him in the head. The next sensation is ice. The water is ice cold, and he instantly feels frozen to the core. Dazed, he opens his eyes underwater and realizes that Morgan is no longer in his arms. Morgan isn’t anywhere near him, from what he can tell with his limited vision.

 He frantically kicks until he reaches the surface. He sucks in a breath of fresh air and yells, “MORGAN!” before another wave yanks him back under. Peter’s lungs burn as he swallows ocean water. He frantically kicks upward again, trying to get back to the surface. Peter doesn’t see the same tree branch floating on the surface, right above his head. He smashes into it, head first, and the world goes dark. 

~ ~ ~

Peter wakes up coughing. He rolls onto his side and spits out ocean water and bits of seaweed, before throwing up what was left of his birthday cake. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and slowly sits up.

Something digs into his side. He pats his side, and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a red, metal swiss knife just slightly bigger than his thumb. He tries to remember where he got it but he comes up blank. Peter sticks it back into his pocket and looks around. 

Peter’s on a sandy beach. The sun is slightly angled in the sky, and isn’t quite scorching hot yet so Peter estimates that it's sometime in the morning. There isn’t a cloud in sight. Waves peacefully lap at his feet. 

Shakily, Peter stands up and turns away from the ocean. He stumbles a few times before righting himself. Several meters in front of him the beach slowly transitions into sandy dirt with a few shrubs, and then into what seems like a thick jungle.

Peter touches his head, and hisses in pain. His fingers come away clean, if not a little sandy. Based on the sharp sting that's now fading and the underlying throbbing, Peter knows he has a head injury. 

What happened?

It comes back to him in pieces. His birthday, The swiss army tinker knife gift in his pocket. The yacht. May. Tony. The cake. The storm. Morgan.

Oh god, Morgan.

Peter swallows and forces tears back. He’s no use to Morgan if he allows his emotions to overcome him. He needs to stay positive. Peter and Morgan had fallen in the ocean at the same spot. Maybe there’s a chance Morgan washed up on the same shore as him?

Peter stumbles across the beach squinting in the sunlight, looking for Morgan’s figure. He tries to stave off his panic. Why did the sun have to be so… intense in the Caribbean? He knows the answer to that, of course. The tilt of the earth in combination with the curvature of the earth causes the sun’s rays to be more concentrated over~

The sight of a figure lying in the sand, close to shore in the distance stops Peter’s train of thought. Could it be?

Peter sprints towards her, and practically falls beside her. Carefully he rolls her over - and yes, it’s Morgan. She’s pale and there’s sand and seaweed covering her face, but it's definitely Morgan. 

Peter shakily holds his hand over her mouth. She’s breathing. Peter sits back on his heels, closes his eyes and sighs in relief. Morgan’s okay. Something in Peter relaxes. Morgan’s going to be okay and he’s okay. All he has to do is send up some type of flare or signal so that Tony can find them. A dark thought passes through Peter’s mind. What if the storm had been too much? What if Tony and Pepper and May-

Through sheer force of will, Peter stops the thought in its tracks. Tony is the strongest superhero, the strongest person he knows (maybe aside from Pepper, May and MJ). Not even Thanos or the Infinity Stones (arguably the strongest weapons in existence) could kill him. Tony definitely survived the storm, which means that May and Pepper survived as well. 

Peter focuses on Morgan. He puts a hand to her head. Her forehead is hot, but not worryingly so. He carefully picks her up and looks around. To his right, he spots a huge tree with large branches hanging over the beach, casting shade over the area. Perfect. 

Peter walks over and gently lies Morgan underneath. He rips off a piece of his shirt, soaks it in water, and gently places it on Morgan’s forehead. She wrinkles her nose and softly huffs, but doesn’t wake up. Peter kisses her head and sits down next to her. 

In the sandy dirt, he makes a plan. His first priority is to find shelter. Peter looks at the tree he and Morgan are taking shelter underneath, and decides that it’s good enough for now. Next on the list is to find water, followed by making a signal for Tony and then finding food. Peter sincerely hopes they won’t have to stick around on the island too long. He has never had to hunt for food before, and he isn’t quite sure what’s poisonous and what’s safe. He regrets not taking MJ up on borrowing her survival guide.

First things first, Peter needs to find water. He goes to stand up, but then looks back at Morgan. She’s especially vulnerable like this, and Peter doesn’t want to leave her alone. He figures carrying her around is an option, although it’s not one that he likes. There’s too much that could go wrong. 

Peter scans the shoreline, looking for inspiration to a solution, when he spots a palm tree several meters away. His eyes follow the trunk. Twenty feet up, Peter spots a few coconuts. He smiles. This should be easy. 

Several minutes later, Peter sits back down next to Morgan, looking slightly worse for wear with a few bug bites and three coconuts. He pulls out the army knife and begins carefully hacking away at the top of the first coconut.  

After what seems like forever, Peter finally cuts through the coconut shell. He carefully pours a bit of coconut water on his palm, and then sniffs it. It has a faint odor, but more importantly, it doesn’t trigger his spidey senses. Peter raises the hole in the coconut to his mouth and takes a sip. The taste is a little weird, but to Peter, it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever had. He’s halfway done drinking the rest of the water when he hears Morgan stirring. 

Carefully, he leans the coconut upright against the other coconuts, and then rushes to Morgan’s side. 

“Hey Morgan! Are you waking up? Morgan?” Peter gently taps Morgan’s shoulders.  

Morgan opens her eyes and squints at him. “Wha - Petey?”

Peter’s face breaks out into a huge grin. “Hey Morgan!” He helps her sit up.

“Where are we? Where’s Mom and Da-” Her raspy voice breaks off into a cough. 

Peter hands her the coconut. “Here, drink.”

She takes the coconut with two hands and drinks. Peter nearly chuckles at the sight. It's adorable. 

“What do you remember?”

Morgan frowns for a moment, before her face clouds and she looks on the edge of crying. 

“Hey- nono! We’re going to be okay! Don’t cry!” 

Morgan’s lip trembles, and Peter pulls her into a fierce hug. “I promise you, Mr. Stark-Dad is out there looking for us. And he’s going to find us as soon as… as we complete our mission.” 

“M-mission?” Morgan still looks scared, but the threat of tears are beginning to retreat.

“Yea! The first step was getting coconut water.”

Morgan makes a face. “Coconut water tastes weird.”

Peter laughs. “It does! But it’s part two of the mission. We have to drink coconut water whenever we get thirsty.”

“Fine… But I’m only doing it so Dad can find us.” Morgan looks oddly determined for a kid. “What else do we have to do?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Find coconuts, drink coconuts…” Peter makes an exaggerated thinking face, and Morgan giggles. “Next is making a signal!”

“A signal?”

“Yea! Mr. St- Dad is already looking all over for us. But he doesn’t know where exactly to look, so we have to tell him!”

“How do we do that?”

“Well, I’m fresh out of flares, what about you? Are you hiding any under… here?” Peter lunges at Morgan and tickles her sides.

“Hey!” Morgan giggles and starts squirming. “Petey stop it!” 

Peter withdraws his arms with an exaggerated thinking face. “No flares then. I guess we’ll have to make a smoke signal. See those pieces of wood?” 

Peter points to the driftwood lying around the beach, presumably dragged in by the storm. “We’re going to use it to build a bonfire, and then cover it in leaves!” 

Morgan claps her hands in delight. “Ooh just like the fire I built with Dad! We wanted to make it as tall as the sky but Mom said no.” Morgan looks disappointed.

Peter laughs and agrees. “Just like that, except the smoke will be as tall as the sky!”

Morgan’s eyes widen in excitement. She jumps to her feet. “I want to start now! Can we build it now, Petey?” 

Peter stands up next to her. “Sure! But you have to promise me that if you feel tired, you’ll come back to this tree and take a break. And if you get thirsty, you’ll tell me so I can open another coconut.”

Morgan nods eagerly. “I promise! Can we go now?”

Over the course of the next few hours, Peter instructs Morgan on how to tell if the driftwood is dry. He shows her how to pile the pieces of wood together, so that they don’t immediately fall over. When the pile gets too tall for her to stack pieces of wood on, they take a break and finish off another coconut, and part of the third. He tells her to use rocks to spell out “SOS” in the sand, while he piles the bigger pieces of driftwood- some the size of Morgan - on their pile, along with some fresh branches he broke to create smoke. 

They finish around midday, and Peter sends Morgan under the tree to rest. In the end, the pile is nearly as tall as Peter. He takes out the army knife and pulls out the two small magnifying glasses. He arranges them so that the sunlight is directly shining through both glasses and onto the wooden pile, and then goes under the tree to wait. 

It doesn’t take long for the wood to catch on fire. They cheer and hug. Peter retrieves his army knife, and they watch in satisfaction as their pile of wood catches on fire, sending black smoke billowing up into the air. 

They settle back down underneath the tree with the last coconut. Just as they finish it off, Morgan spots something in the ocean, near the horizon. As it approaches, the shape becomes more distinguished until Peter can tell it's a ship.

Morgan and Peter run out onto the beach and start waving their hands above their heads, trying to get the ship captain’s attention. Slowly, Peter watches as the ship veers off its course, and begins heading towards them. Morgan cheers and hugs Peter, but Peter doesn’t share the same sentiment. His spidey senses are giving him a dark feeling and sending goosebumps up his arms. 

Peter’s in the middle of trying to convince Morgan to wait beneath the tree when a shot rings out. Driven by instinct, Peter immediately tackles Morgan to the ground. Barely a second later, something hits the ground a few feet away from them. Peter turns back to the ship, and spots a glimmer of a sniper’s scope in the sunlight. 

“Petey!” Morgan cries out in fear, as Peter practically lifts her to her feet.

“Come on Morgan!” Peter’s pulling her off the beach, towards the jungle as fast as he can. “We have to hide!” 

Morgan stumbles after him. Another bullet hits the sand a few feet to their right, and they both flinch.

“Wai- NO!” As they reach the tree, Morgan jerks her hand out of Peter’s. “I don’t want to go in the forest! It’s scary! And Dad… how’s Dad going to find us in there?”

Peter pulls Morgan behind the tree so they’re temporarily hidden. He looks at Morgan. She’s terrified, shaking and there’s a few tears falling down her cheeks. He softens his tone. “Listen, Mr. S-Dad is going to see the bonfire, and then he’ll search every inch of this island, okay? But now we have to go-” Both Peter and Morgan flinch as another shot rings out. “-right now. Okay?”

Morgan nods, and Peter doesn’t waste any time. He picks Morgan up and runs as fast as he can through the jungle, crashing through the undergrowth. 

After what seems like an hour of running, Peter slows down, and then stops when he comes across a moderately small stream. He sets a strangely quiet Morgan down, kneels next to the river and splashes his face with water. To his surprise, it doesn’t smell salty. 

He cups some of the water in his hands and brings it up to his face. When he doesn’t get a warning from his spidey senses, he takes a sip. The water is cool and soothing. 

“Morgan, here.” Peter gently helps Morgan to the edge of the stream. “Cup your hands like this, and then drink.”

Morgan makes a face. “Isn’t the water mucky?”

“Uh, nope! I mean, probably not? But it’s a freshwater stream, and we really need to stay hydrated with this heat…” Peter takes another drink of water, and then looks around. His path of running through the jungle is clearly outlined with trampled plants and vines and branches snapped, and pushed out of the way. He had essentially led whoever was on that ship to their current location. 

“Petey, what are we going to do?” Morgan’s tearful brown doe eyes stare up at him. 

Peter rubs her head and stands up. “We just have to add a few steps to our plan.” He tries to sound confident. 

“What steps?”

“I’m not sure yet.” 

To his left, Peter sees a tall, sturdy looking tree with large branches and fairly thick leaves. To his right, there’s a few old branches with dried leaves falling off. Peter moves towards them, and lifts one up. There’s a large hole, maybe ten feet deep underneath.

Peter smiles. “We’re going to set a trap.”

~ ~ ~

Almost two hours later, four armed men enter the small clearing by the steam. Grunt number one turns to the guy at the back and says, “The trail ends here, sir.”

The boss snarls in anger. “Spread out and find them! We’re not letting those two Stark brats get away! We need the ransom money!”

Grunt numbers one, two and three spread out around the stream, looking for clues. 

After a few moments, grunt two spots a shoe lying on top of a few branches to the right. “Hey bo-” He steps closer to pick up the shoe, but the ground disappears, and he falls down, into a hole. 

At the same time, grunt number three spots a shoe lying on top of a couple vines to the left. He steps closer, and picks up the shoe. All of a sudden, a large rock with vines wrapped around it falls down and the vines jerk up, sending the man flying upwards in the air… in a net made of vines. He drops his gun in the commotion and starts swearing. 

The boss and grunt number one immediately move together so they are back to back and raise their guns. “What the hell…”

A large figure swings from the top of the tall tree that grunt number three is hanging in and crashes into grunt number one. They roll on the ground, and the figure manages to disarm the grunt and loop the vine around him, immobilizing him.

The click of bosses’ gun safety turning off stops the figure in his tracks. The boss has his gun trained on the figure’s forehead. “Don’t move! I’ll shoot!”

The figure stops moving and yells, “Now!”

A bright light is shone directly into the boss’s  eyes. He stumbles back disoriented and raises an arm to shield his eyes. The figure takes the opportunity to disarm the boss and tie him up in vines. 

Peter grabs the boss and drags him to the ten foot hole. He holds the guy by his arm and dangles him over the pit, in such a way that the boss can’t see beneath him. 

“Wait - no please! What-what do you want?”

“Why did you attack us?” 

“You’re Stark’s kid, right? He’s looking all over for you, there's suits flying everywhere. He’s looking in the wrong area though, any experienced sailor can tell you that. We figured we’d grab you guys and make some cash.”

Peter’s face is stone cold. “How many of you came here?”

“Just us four, kid. Now let me go-”

Peter smiles. “Okay.” And lets him fall into the pit. The boss screams, and then presumably falls on top of grunt number two. There’s a lot of muffled cursing. 

Peter looks up to the tall tree. “Morgan! You can climb down now!”

Morgan carefully climbs down and runs to Peter. “Petey! He said Dad’s looking for us!”

“That’s right! Good job with the light!” Peter takes the Swiss army knife from her, guides her around the traps and tied-up grunts and back to the path in the jungle. “We’re going to see if their ship has a radio we can use to call Dad.”

Morgan stops walking and turns to Peter. “But… I don’t want to go aboard the ship. It’s scary.”

Peter kneels down next to her so they’re face to face. “We defeated all of them back there, Morgan. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

“But what if they escape? Or if-if there’s more bad guys on the ship.”

“Then I’ll protect you, Morgan. Always.”

Morgan hesitates. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Peter stands back up. “You know… Dad always told me that you loved adventures.”

“I do! Me, Mom and Dad always go on adventures!”

“Yes? Well think of this as another adventure. We’re pirates and that ship on the beach has treasure!”

Morgan stares at Peter, her eyes glinting in delight, before she grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him toward the beach, “Come on Petey! We have treasure to find!”

~ ~ ~

A few hours later as the sun is setting, one very stressed-out Tony Stark steps out of his iron suit on the beach. Peter and Morgan immediately hop out of the ship to meet him. 

“DAAAAAAD!” Morgan runs up to Tony and hugs him. Tony kneels down and catches her and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’re never going to believe what happened! Me and Petey had the best adventure ever! We drank coconuts and made a bonfire and then we raided the ship-”

Tony pulls back slightly without releasing Morgan from their hug to look at her. “Hold on, what?” Then he spots the black bandana on her head. He tugs at it. “Morgana, what is this?”

“We’re pirates! ARRRRRRRR!”

Tony looks up at Peter in confusion. “What?” Then he spots the chicken leg Peter’s eating.

Peter just smiles and responds, “We’re pirates.”

Tony shakes his head and picks Morgan up with one arm. He steps toward Peter, wraps an arm around him and kisses his forehead. “Mom’s on her way, and May is waiting with Happy in the Quinjet.” Tony pauses for a moment. “I’m just glad you guys are okay.” 

Peter relaxes into the hug, in a way he hasn’t since he arrived on the island. The same feeling of happiness and warmth he felt on the yacht while sitting with Tony is back. “Me too.”

“Hey Morgan,” Peter starts. “Do you want to show Dad your pirate key?” Peter feels Tony tense slightly and he realizes what he just said. Dad. Shit-shit-shit-shit-

“Yea! Look Dad!” Morgan pulls a key attached to a string from around her neck. “Me and Petey found it on the ship-” Morgan is interrupted with the sound of another suit flying by. The trio looks up, and its-

“Mom!” Morgan starts wiggling and Tony puts her back down on the beach, but he still keeps a hand on her shoulder until Pepper lands. Morgan runs up to her, and Pepper catches her and wraps her up in a tight hug. 

Peter steps away from Tony awkwardly. “Sorry about uh, calling you Dad-” 

“Hey, no it’s okay.” Tony gently pulls Peter back to him. “I know I’m not your biological dad, and I wasn’t the one to raise you, but I still think you as my kid. I wasn’t just worried about Morgan, I was worried about you too.”

Peter feels his face heat up. He wraps his arms around Tony and buries his face in the side of Tony’s neck. Tony chuckles, and runs a hand through Peter’s sandy curls. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” 

#peter parker #tony stark #morgan stark #peter parker & morgan #peter parker & tony stark #peter parker and tony #peter parker & morgan & tony stark #pepper potts #pepper/tony stark #may parker #may parker and peter parker #parental tony #tony is peter's dad #protective tony stark #protective peter parker #hurt peter parker #precious morgan #precious peter parker #birthday #birthday fic #alternate universe #light angst #carribbean #marooned in the carribbean #sailing #yacht #pirates #desert island fic #friendly neighbourhood exchange #comingupwriting

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

“This Isn’t What It Looks Like”

Another prompt request that has been sitting and I finally got around to finishing! I apologize buckysalefty for the wait!

The bright sun shone upon the beautiful weekend day, illuminating the boardwalk and beach. Perfect blue waves rolled in the distance, carrying a breeze that smelled of sea salt. Adults and children alike were out, enjoying the warmth and water.

The boardwalk was lined with cute shops, bars and restaurants. The scent of hot dogs and hamburgers wafted in your nose as you biked by, inhaling deeply. It was almost lunchtime, and your stomach rumbled loudly. You would have to stop to eat soon. But for now, you were enjoying your ride. You always had a daily exercise routine, and being on vacation hadn’t changed that. Normally you’d go after breakfast, but you felt a little lazy that morning and waited for a bit. Some part of you wished you hadn’t as the boardwalk was much busier around this time.

Despite you having to weave between pedestrians, you didn’t mind. You kept riding, although having to slow down significantly when you spotted a larger crowd ahead. Easing up on the pedaling, you smoothly flowed through the crowd, keeping an eye out for any wandering children or potential bumps along the wooden boards.

Bathing suit clad bodies were in the forefront of your vision, and you couldn’t help but to briefly admire them. You’d steal a quick glance or two, enough to not accidentally appear as a creep, and to focus on the route ahead. One however caught your attention much more than usual.

You’ve seen beach body builders; the men who were grossly over-muscled and spray tanned just for looks. This man however was different. He had a thick torso with planes and curves appreciated in the bright sun. Real muscles, those that reminded you of a hard-working man. He was shirtless and a pair of cargo shorts hung on his waist. His face had been partially covered by a baseball cap and aviator sunglasses.

“Look out!”

You’d turned your head too late, only having a split second glance of the boardwalk railing as your bike rammed straight into it. The sheer force threw you forward, slamming your stomach against the handlebars before the world spun right before your eyes. You felt nothing; the sensation of being suspended in the air encompassing you until you landed back first in what felt like sand. You choked out a loud gasp, the wind forcefully expelled from your lungs with your landing. Sharp pain radiated through your body, the world spinning around you briefly.

“Hey, hey…miss?”

Your eyes opened, your head swimming and your body aching as the blue sky before you came into focus. You’d blacked out at some point, the majority of your memory overtaken by the pain and spectacular flip. The residual ache ebbed away slowly as your senses regained themselves.

“Can you hear me?”

The unfamiliar voice came from somewhere above you, and your vision finally fixated on a face. You immediately recognized it as the man from earlier you were ogling at, to your embarrassment.

He was even more handsome up close. His hat was still on but his sunglasses had been removed, revealing such gorgeous eyes that seemed to reflect the ocean itself.

“Can you hear me?” he repeated. His voice was gruff.

Oh shoot, did he realize you were staring at him? “This isn’t what it looks like!” you blurted out suddenly. When he stared at you in confusion you’d realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean…”

A flash of amusement crossed his face for a brief second before concern overtook him again. “What’s your name?”

You answered immediately.

He nodded. “What day is it?”

Friday.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Three.

“Good,” he sighed with relief. “And you’re aware you fell?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, glancing away in shame and hoping he was oblivious to the reason why. “Stupid…” You began to try and sit up, only to have him place his palm on your chest, holding you to the sand.

“Not yet, jus’ tryin’ to make sure ya didn’t hit your head.” He explained with a calm voice.

You didn’t argue, chewing on your lip nervously. Your head felt fine, despite the slight ache you acquired from your dance with gravity. If anything your back hurt more from the way you landed, which you were thankful it was sand and not concrete. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him dig into the pocket of his shorts and produced what looked like a pen. He brought it up to your direct sight, a bright light appearing at the end.

“Pupillary light reflex is good,” He murmured, placing his pen-light back. “Anything feel extremely painful or numb?”

You flexed your fingers, rolled your ankles and wrists, and bent your legs and arms. Aside from the abrasions sustained from the course sand, nothing seemed broken or sprained. You shook your head slowly.

“Good,” he let out a sigh of relief, scooting closer to you. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you felt one hand on your shoulders, prompting you to sit up. You did so, allowing him to keep control of your movement. “Are you okay to get up?”

"Uh..." you glanced upward to the boardwalk, noting the small crowd that gathered, staring at you with mixed reactions: concern, curiosity, and amusement. Your bike had been propped up against the railing, and from what you could see, there was no damage thankfully. “Yeah…I think so.”

“Alright.” he stood up, helping you back to your feet as well with slow and steady movement. He allowed you to walk forward, although you were very aware of his hand resting against the small of your back.

He guided you toward the steps, keeping close to you as you climbed up. All the while your face was most likely red as a tomato. After making a fool of yourself in front of this absolute meal of a man, he was personally escorting you back up. You weren’t sure if you should feel lucky or even more embarrassed.

You’d reached the top, the crowd blocking you from your bike. “Alright folks, nothin’ to see here. Move along.” The man spoke up, waving everyone off with his free hand.

As people began to disperse, you headed directly for your bike. You inspected it thoroughly to make sure there was no damage. Other than a mark on the front tire from its brief meeting with the railing, it was overall still in good shape. You sighed in relief, turning to see him watching you from a few feet away.

A small smile crossed your face. “Thanks a lot for the help…uh…”

“Arthur Morgan,” he said. “No problem, Y/N. You’re lucky you had a doctor nearby.”

Your eyebrows raised. “You’re a doctor?”

“Yes ma’am, though wasn’t expectin’ to take my work with me on vacation.” He said with a chuckle.

You bit your lip, averting your gaze in shame. “Sorry… didn’t mean to ruin your vacation.”

He laughed again, stepping closer to you. “Ya didn’t ruin it. Hell, added some excitement to the day actually.”

You met his eyes, noting the warm smile on his face. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or not, but you had to laugh regardless. “Glad I could excite your day.”

He stepped closer to you, allowing you to once again take in his features. “Need an escort back?”

The question surprised you. It was an unexpected offer for sure. “Um…you probably have better things to do than to help my dumb ass back to my bungalow.” You answered, mind beginning to wander about his personal life. Was there a significant other around? Maybe some kids?

He shook his head. “Nah. ‘Sides, I’d be a terrible doctor if I don’t make sure my patient is healthy.”

You smiled at his statement. While you didn’t need an escort, you couldn’t turn down such a handsome and caring man like him. With an enthusiastic nod, you were on your way.

---

 The walk back to your bungalow was longer than you’d anticipated. Arthur had set an easy pace for you, claiming that he wanted to make sure you didn’t overexert yourself in the sun and heat. You however felt fine, completely normal as if nothing had happened, aside from the dull sting on your skin. He even offered to hold you bike as you walked, which you initially declined, only to have him take it anyway.

You two kept an idle chatter on the route back. You’d learned that Arthur was an ER doctor who lived out in Colorado and had arrived here just the night before. After asking if he was staying with anyone, you’d found out he was single to your shock and elation. After finding out his relationship status, he quickly turned the attention to you. You’d been here for a few days already, arriving early in the week and you would be leaving that following Monday, back to your boring old desk job. You swore you saw a flicker in his eyes when he learned you too were single.

Was he going to make a move?

You’d reached your bungalow soon after, halting by the front door as he handed your bike back. You leaned it up against the wall before turning back to face him with a smile on your lips. “Thanks for helping me back, Arthur.”

“Anytime,” he responded with a smile that matched yours. He glanced up at the house briefly and back to you. His confident air seemed to leave him as he suddenly looked sheepish to you. He rubbed his neck as his blue eyes searched the wall behind you. “Uh…if you ain’t doin’ anything tonight, I-“

“Yes.” You answered with certainty.

He blinked at you, a slightly bewildered look crossing his face.

“Yes, I’d like to go out with you.” You said easily, a little too easily. You hoped that what he was asking. If not, then you’d feel like an even more massive fool than you’d made yourself out to be earlier.

“Really?” he exclaimed with a little more excitement than you’d anticipated. He grinned widely, reminding you of a twelve year old who just asked his crush out for the first time. He then cleared his throat. “I mean…”

You giggled slightly. “Might as well, since you helped me out, Dr. Morgan.” You added a somewhat sultry tone to your voice to highlight his name.

He chuckled. “Whaddya think…Stanley’s bar at 8? Jus’ make sure ya don’t get hurt again.”

“I’ll walk this time,” you replied with amusement, reaching back to pat the bike as if it were a horse. “Pretty sure this ol’ girl ain’t having my erratic riding for the rest of the day.”

His laughter only grew, chortling heartily for a few seconds with his booming voice. “Alright then, see ya tonight.”

“See you tonight!” you repeated, waving him off as he began his way back to the boardwalk. You watched him until he was gone from sight, and you walked into the cozy little bungalow.

The smile on your face hadn’t moved. Excitement welled in your chest, expressing itself in a little jump of joy as you squealed out loud. Somehow your misfortune had ended in a positive way. Not only were you personally helped out by the hottest guy on the beach, you also had a date with him tonight.You certainly couldn’t wait for tonight.

---

Send me a prompt!

#Arthur Morgan x reader #modern AU #prompt request

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

Prompt: “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay? It could ruin my whole reputation.”, “Everything I did was to protect YOU.” and “I… I know you don’t want me to, but… I miss home.”

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Language, some guys being creeps, fighting, minor sexual assault (not explicit)

Word count: 3030

A/N: So, this is for @staticscreenwriting 300 writer challenge. Buckle up, this is a long one, I got a bit carried away. It got very dark very quickly, sorry. It’s based on the Disney prompts above but the title come from this song, which I was listening to as I wrote it. Also based some of this on The Lost Boys. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

“You can’t tell anyone about this, okay? It could ruin my whole reputation.” Billy smiled as he tugged Y/N closer to him by the belt loops in her denim shorts. He was leaning back on a picnic bench on the San Diego pier, looking up at her with hooded eyes. Her baggy shirt was moving in the gentle breeze and his shirt was unbuttoned as per usual. But unlike usual he was dressed in a pair of shorts. They were beach shorts, but shorts none the less. She was clutching a medium sized dolphin soft toy to her chest. He won it on one of the stupid throw the ball in the hole games and presented it to her like it was the most important thing in the world. She had giggled and kissed him before taking it from him.

Y/N laughed. “What reputation? We don’t go to high school anymore, dipshit.”

“Still, can’t let the world know I’ve gone soft.” The light from the setting sun was catching in his curls, turning the dirty blond a golden colour. It framed his face, highlighting his tan skin perfectly. Relaxed and laid back like this, with a soft smile on his face, he looked ethereal.

“I’m hungry. Let’s get some food.” She slipped her hand into his and pulled him back towards the main part of the pier.

There weren’t many people here now that summer was coming to a close. A few tourists and locals aimlessly wandered between the different stands. Billy made a beeline for the hotdog stand and ordered two while Y/N let her eyes wander all around them. San Diego was everything Billy promised it would be. Clear skies, clearer ocean and breath-taking scenery. It was paradise; their own slice of heaven. Part of her still missed Hawkins though. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she would have had a future if she had stayed, at least in California she might be able to make something of herself. She supposed she missed her friends, and her family, and the familiarity of everything. San Diego was new and she nearly got lost looking for the shops every time they ran out of milk. She insisted on going alone though which meant that Billy had taken to writing the apartments phone number on her arm so she could call him to come and find her when she inevitably took a wrong turn.

“Y/N?” Billy pulled her out of her thoughts. He was holding out one of the hot dogs for her to take, a look of concern on his face.

She smiled at him as she took the hot dog. “Thanks, want to go sit somewhere?”

“I know a place.” He held a hand out to her. She placed the dolphin in the curve of her arm that was holding the hotdog, before she took his hand and he led them down the steps at the side of the pier onto the beach below.

He led them almost all the way to the shoreline before he sat down in the sand. He patted the space in between his legs as an invitation for her to sit. She sat down and he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her back against his chest. They ate in silence as they watched the sun sink lower in the sky. When they had both finished, she lent her head back onto his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her temple. He threaded his fingers through hers, resting their hands on the dolphin that was now resting in her lap. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He was finally back in front of the ocean, away from his shitty dad, with the girl he loved resting against his chest. The last time he had sat on this beach he would never have guessed that he would make it out of his dad’s grasp, let alone fall in love.

When the sun had dropped behind the horizon they got up and dusted the sand off of each other. Billy’s hands lingered a little too long on her bare legs, causing him to shove his shoulder and nearly sent him falling back into the sand. Y/N managed to push the dolphin into her bag so she had both hands free. They were back on the pier thinking about getting something to drink when Y/N noticed Billy’s entire demeanour shift. He stopped dead on the spot and pushed her behind him.

“Well, well, well. Billy fucking Hargrove. You’ve got some nerve coming back here.” The boy that spoke looked about their age with dark hair styled in a very badly cut mullet. His nose was crooked, as if it had been badly broken. There were three other guys stood with him, all with similar hair cuts. None of them looked like they were dressed for the warm weather.

Billy felt Y/N’s hand close around his right arm as he tried to keep her mostly out of sight. Why wouldn’t the world just let him be happy for once? Why did there always have to be something else thrown in his path?

“Michael.” Billy subconsciously stood up to his full height.

“What, no greetings for us lot?” Michael clasped his hands over his heart in mock hurt as the other boys mimicked him.

Billy almost growled. “What do you want?”

“Can’t we just want to catch up? I mean it has been over a year. How’s that little sister of yours?” That earned collection of laughs from the other three boys.

“Mind your fucking business, Michael.” If Y/N hadn’t been gripping his arm so tight he would have launched himself at the other boy. But he knew how that would end.

“Billy, let’s just go.” Y/N’s voice was small but it drew Michael’s attention to her for the first time.

“What do we have here? Don’t think I’ve seen you around her before, hot stuff.” Michaels eyes trailed down her bare legs with a look of almost hunger on his face. It sent a feeling running down her back, as if someone had dropped ice into her shirt.

“Back off, Michael.” Billy growled as Y/N’s grip on his arm tightened, showing him how uncomfortable she was. She didn’t know what these boys wanted, or how they knew Billy, but she knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“My, my, Billy Hargrove defending a girl. She must be a hell of a fuck.” Michael laughed as Billy’s hands formed fists. “Or you’ve finally fallen for a nice girl. But the fact that she’s still with you probably means that she doesn’t know the real reason you left California. You see hot stuff-” Michael didn’t have time to prepare for Billy’s fist connecting with his nose.

They all heard the crunch of the bone before Billy pulled the other boy up by his jacket and slammed him backwards into the railing. Michael just laughed and brought his knee up into Billy’s groin. Billy doubled over in pain and stumbled back.

“Billy!” Y/N went to run to him but one of the other boys caught her around the waist and pulled her back, directly into his chest.

“Let them finish it, alright, sweet cheeks.” He laughed in her ear as she tried to get out of his grip. “We could have some fun while they’re working it out.” His voice made her blood run cold and she momentarily froze as his hands started exploring her body.  

Michael had managed to connect a punch with Billy’s jaw, but Billy blocked his next attack and punched him in the stomach. Billy landed one last punch on Michael’s face that sent the other boy to the floor.

“She’s gonna want to know now, Hargrove.” Michael laughed as he spat blood out of his mouth.

Y/N managed to elbow the boy that was holding her in the stomach. He released his grip on her and doubled over in pain before she landed a kick in his groin. He fell to the floor groaning in pain. She screamed when another set off arms wrapped around her waist.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s just me. Let’s get out of here.” Billy held her against him as he lent down and picked her bag off of the floor. A small crowd of people had formed but they easily pushed their way through. She was pretty much limp in his grip as he set her in the passenger seat of the Camaro. The tears were streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to get the seatbelt into the buckle. Billy reached over from the driver’s side and slide it in for her.  

They had only been driving about ten minutes when she told him to pull over. She threw off the seat belt and made it about four steps from the car before she falling to her knees and throwing up. She stayed in the same position on the floor, breathing heavily, until she felt a hand on her waist. She yelped and fell backwards away from Billy. She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head into her knees as Billy looked at her with hurt and confusion. She knew it was just Billy, knew he would never hurt her, but she could still feel the other guys hands running over her body.

“Y/N?” Billy’s voice was softer than normal.

She looked up and saw he was holding out a bottle of water and a pack of mints. She took them both from him before taking a gulp of water and taking two mints from the packet. Her eyes glanced over the damage to his face. His lip was split and a bruise was forming on his jaw.

“What did he mean?” Y/N moved her gaze up to meet his crystal blue irises that seemed to be shining with tears. “The real reason you left California?”

Billy hung his head, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “It was an accident. I-I was supposed to be dropping Max off at this kid’s birthday party. I was angry that my dad was treating me like a taxi, with no regard for the fact that I already had plans. It was stupid. There was this-this party on the beach. I thought what could go wrong.” He laughed but it held no humour and looked towards the night sky. “I just drove straight to the beach, told Max to stay in the car. She didn’t, she never did. I was doing a keg stand and when they brought me down, I noticed she wasn’t there anymore.” He was starting to shake now, the tears were flowing down his cheeks much faster.

“So, I went looking for her and I found her under the pier. Michael and the guys, they had her cornered. Jake was holding her board. I can’t remember what they were saying. She was terrified, backed up against the wall. I stepped in between them and Michael said something and I just saw red. By the time the other guys pulled me off…” He trailed off and pushed a hand into his hair. He still kept his gaze on the grass beneath them. “You thought Steve was bad last Christmas. I put Michael in the hospital. He was in a coma for three days. His dad threatened to take legal action and my dad had the chance at the job in Hawkins, so moving was the compromise.

“It was my fault. I left her on her own, like I did with you tonight, so that Jake could…Everything I did was to protect YOU, and Max, and I couldn’t do either right. I’m sorry, for tonight, and for not telling you. God, all I ever do is fuck things up.” He buried his hands into his hair and tugged roughly at his curls.

“We all fuck up, Billy.” Her voice was small as she hesitantly reached over and removed one of his hands from his hair before lacing her fingers through his.

“Not like this.” His bloodshot eyes met her own. “If Michael had got the upper hand, what do you think they would have done? I put you in danger. We should have just walked away like you said. I never learn. All the fighting ever does is get me in deeper shit.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. He took his hand back as sobs racked through his body, causing his shoulders to shake. She had never seen him like this. There were a few times that had come close, when his dad had nearly taken it far enough to put him in the hospital.

“Can- can we just go home?” Y/n’s voice broke as she spoke.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” He got to his feet and dusted off his jeans before offering her his hand. She took it and let him pull her up. Her legs still felt like jelly and she had to grab his arm to prevent herself from falling straight back to the ground. “You good?”

She just nodded and he opened the passenger side door. He helped her inside before walking around the other side and getting in himself. He crossed his arms across the steering wheel and rested his forehead on them. They sat there in silence for a few minutes before he wiped a hand over his face and gunned the engine. The Camaro roared to life before he pulled back out onto the road and carried on driving home.

“I… I know you don’t want me to, but… I miss home.” Her voice was so small, he almost didn’t catch it.

“Y/N,” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “your feelings are your own, as are your decisions. Don’t ever put me before them. If you want to go back… back to Hawkins, honey, I’ll drive you there now. I don’t want to keep you somewhere you don’t want to be.”

“I didn’t mean that. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.” The tears started streaming down her cheeks again. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t want to go back to Hawkins, but she didn’t want to stay here knowing that at any moment they could run back into Michael and his gang.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Billy removed a hand from the steering wheel and laced her fingers with his. “We’ll figure something out okay. I don’t know what, but we will. I promise. Let’s just sleep on it, alright? And we can figure stuff out in the morning.”

She nodded and clasped his hand between both of hers, her gaze falling to out of the window.

It didn’t take long to reach the apartment building. Billy threw the car into park before jumping out and walking around to the passenger side. He opened the door and helped her out before grabbing her bag that he had thrown on the back seat. The dolphin soft toy was sticking out of the top of her bag and he locked his jaw at the sight of it. He didn’t understand how every time he was actually happy something had to get in the way.

Y/N didn’t let go of his hand until they were inside the apartment. It was tiny and wasn’t in the best shape but it was theirs and that was all that mattered.

“Do you need any help?” She gestured to his chin, which had now started to turn a lovely shade of purple.

“No, I’ve got it. You jump in the shower.” He pressed a kiss to her temple before walking into the kitchen and pulling out the first aid supplies.

Y/N turned the shower to the highest temperature before stepping in. The scalding water ran down her skin, burning as it went but she didn’t care. She just needed to get the feeling of that guys hands off of her. She didn’t stay in long, knowing Billy would be waiting. She wrapped herself in a towel and brushed her teeth.  She walked out to find him sat on the edge of the bed. He had laid her a pair of sleeping shorts and her favourite of his metallic t-shirts on the bed. She smiled softly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking into the bathroom she had just vacated. She pulled the clothes on before climbing under the covers and facing the middle of the bed. It wasn’t the comfiest of beds but they made do.

Billy had always been fast in the shower. It wasn’t long until he was climbing in next to her. He kept his distance, facing her, unsure how close she wanted him. She answered his question for him as she rested her head on his bare chest, beneath his chin. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. One of her arms looped over his side while the other rested over his necklace. She could feel his heartbeat slow down beneath her finger tips as he pressed a kiss to her hairline.

“San Francisco might be nice.” Her breath fanned over his chest as she talked.

“Yeah, it might be. We’ll look tomorrow. Just get some sleep, honey.” He tightened his grip on her.

“Billy?”

He hummed; she felt his chest vibrate against her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He wondered how he had ever got so lucky.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagine #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #staticscreen300 #queen

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 7

Stepping out of the compound and into the brisk desert night felt like drawing breath for the first time. Tommy closed his eyes and inhaled the distant scent of Russian olive and sagebrush, his pulse already beginning to slow. Their journey was far from over, but this infinitesimal moment of comfort was a welcome repose.

The stars overhead were beautiful. The gunfire, not so much.

Tommy hung back while the others dispatched the two soldiers on guard. His eyes were on the guy in the blue uniform, dangling his legs casually over the rail track a few yards away. That was quick. He hadn’t expected Benrey to reappear for several more hours, much less in such a fully-fleshed form. Tommy lifted an eyebrow in question, but the entity only gave him a coyote’s grin in answer.

“Oh, you guys made it out,” he announced in mock cheer. “That’s cool. I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me where the exit was.”

“It’s always good to see a friendly face in these trying times,” Dr. Coomer commented. He sounded tired. Perhaps he was growing weary of Benrey’s reappearing act, as well.

The entity went on, leaning back on the heels of his hands and crossing one leg over the other. “Y’know, it was so quiet before you guys came here.”

Gordon was either used to Benrey resurrecting himself by now or simply sick of his shit, because he hopped the train tracks and got right up in his face without an ounce of hesitation. Dr Coomer hopped up beside him and took a seat while Bubby wandered off to check for resources. Tommy stood on the other side of the rails, watching carefully, daring Benrey to try anything.

“Yeah. Hey,” Gordon snapped. “Mind if I ask you something? Why were you buddy-buddy with those two guys?” He tossed a gesture at the fresh bodies on the desert sand. “They were just staring at you. Can you explain what was going on here - this scene before we walked in?”

Benrey shrugged. “Yeah, they had their passport. What was I supposed to do?”

Gordon let out a frustrated huff. “They are trying to kill us. You included. I don’t know why they w-”

“Looks like you tried to kill them and it worked,” Benrey interrupted him.

“I - we’re -” Gordon gave the entity a dismissive wave. Tommy could see the tension knotting up in his neck from where he stood. “I’m gonna consult the group. You stay right there. Coomer-”

“I think you’re the bad guy,” The entity went on, flashing a smile full of needles. “I think you’re mean.”

Gordon was fed up. He shot Benrey point-blank.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The entity’s eyes shone dangerously, unaffected by the gaping hole in his cheek. He stuck his tongue out and began babbling at Gordon mockingly while blood oozed from the wound. Tommy sighed and stepped away. Absolutely juvenile.

It took a few minutes to corral the team into a criss-crossed huddle beneath an overhang. Benrey decided to play along and keep his distance, which initially surprised Tommy until he learned it was so that he could lob scavenged eggs into their midst like he was shooting free throws. Tommy rested his chin in his palm and sighed as he was spattered with yolk. They were already caked in sweat, grime, and alien gore - what was one more substance to add to the cocktail?

Gordon addressed the group earnestly. “There’s something incredibly suspicious about Benrey just hanging out with some soldiers. Is this - do you agree? Do you get the same vibe that I do?

Dr. Coomer only had enough energy to offer a short, “Hello, Gordon,” from where he sat. He had his head tipped back, surveying the stars.

Bubby was more direct. “No.”

Gordon blinked, taken aback. “Why not? Who-”

“I agree,” Tommy threw in sarcastically. “Benrey is a valuable employee here at Black Mesa.”

Gordon, fully aware of Tommy’s opinion, gave him a you’re-not-helping look. He turned back to Bubby. “I think he’s an issue that needs to be dealt with,” he explained. “Like, how do you guys not get this? He’s sitting in front of the soldiers, that we’ve killed - that have tried to kill us at least ten times now. Just hanging out. Did he strike a deal with them?”

Bubby’s expression was carefully neutral. “But Gordon, he’s a security guard,” he responded.

Tommy slanted Bubby a narrowed look. Surely he was too smart to assume Benrey was merely a security guard by now.

“They’ve been killing them, too!” Gordon argued. “I’ve seen a soldier shoot one of the security guards.”

Bubby wasn’t buying it. “What?”

“Yes, we’ve seen that a hundred times!”

“Well, they can’t do that,” Dr. Coomer remarked. “Killing people is illegal.”

“Ye-” Gordon’s brow furrowed. “Legality is no longer a concern.”

He went on at length about the moral dilemmas they were facing while Tommy did his best to redirect the eggs being thrown at them. He was currently handling the deaths he had witnessed as he did most things - by ignoring them. His chest was a sleek leather suitcase stuffed with emotion he was too afraid to unpack. Was it the best way to deal with it? Probably not. Would he have a nervous breakdown about it later? Well.

“I have no guilt weighing on my conscience, Gordon,” Coomer answered him. “Can you say the same?”

“No,” Gordon sighed. He had a faraway look on his face. “I can’t.”

Maybe they’d both have a nervous breakdown about it later.

The conversation shifted as they sat, exhausted, in a circle. It was quiet out here. Finally. Finally. The needle on Tommy’s mental speedometer could pull back a tick. He wanted to lay out flat on his back and watch the stars wheel overhead like he used to as a kid. He probably would have, if he wasn’t getting pelted by eggs.

“What are your guys’ greatest dreams?” Gordon asked them at length. “If today didn’t happen. And you got to go home, and you got to keep on living your life, what - what is your life’s goal?”

What a question. Tommy studied Gordon pensively, wondering what brought this on. The man was tired, his expression heavy, stress pulling at the corners of his mouth. The moon reflected prettily off the lenses of his glasses, but the eyes behind them were brimming with a deep ache. He wanted out of this nightmare - they all did - but this was Tommy’s first hint that Gordon didn’t fully believe they’d actually make it.

Tommy hugged his knees to his chest, listening to Bubby relaying his dream of going to space and Coomer waxing poetic about boxing. Gordon nodded along, intent and encouraging. The sincerity in his voice as he affirmed their deepest wants wrapped like a thick blanket around them. Tommy felt a newfound affection for Gordon quietly unfurling as he hung onto his words. The man was brave, which was hard enough in itself, but he was also kind, which was much, much harder.

Not for the first time, Tommy had the impulse to reach out and grasp his hand, offering some shred of comfort in a compound that wanted him dead. We’re gonna be okay, he wanted to say. We’re gonna make it out of here.

Gordon turned those dark eyes on Tommy. It was his turn. “Tommy, you wanna-” He faltered distractedly, gaze skipping all over his face, his neck, his coat. “You - maybe should...”

“Yeah?” Tommy asked, expectant.

“We need to get you a shower,” Gordon said finally. “You are covered in that shit.”

Tommy smirked. Speak for yourself, Sewage Boy. His smile froze when Gordon reached for him, presumably to wipe some of “that shit” off of his face, but before he could touch him, something small and painful came sailing in their direction. It bounced off Gordon’s skull and clattered to the ground, followed by several others.

“Ow, fuck,” Gordon grimaced, rubbing his head. “These are rocks ,” he remarked, glancing around for the source. “Yeah, these aren’t eggs. What the fuck?”

Tommy sighed heavily, knowing Benrey was somewhere nearby, watching. Would it kill him to not be the center of attention for five minutes? Bubby and Coomer, not too keen on taking projectiles to the face, excused themselves from the conversation. Distantly, Tommy could hear them kicking around a ball, and was too tired to wonder where they had found it.

“Tommy, what are your dreams?” Gordon asked once the hail of rocks let up. “You have a lot to aspire to. What do you want to do - your - with your life?”

Tommy honestly hoped Gordon would have forgotten to ask. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable answering the question, it was just that he wasn’t sure he had an answer to the question. He had the universe at his fingertips, unparalleled power allowing him to go anywhere, to be anything.

Over time, however, he’d learned that the most fulfilling things to him were simple, humble joys. Sleeping in late on a Sunday morning. A cold popsicle on a hot day. Jokes that made him laugh so hard he cried. What he wanted to do with his life had been chewed smaller and smaller, even, in these past two days. Now he just dreamed of a good nap. A hot meal. A long shower. A clean set of sheets.

Gordon was still watching him, patiently giving him the time he needed to answer, and Tommy felt that affection behind his ribs blooming stronger.

“Um, if this... wouldn’t have happened…” He wanted to be sincere, to show a true part of himself, carefully, to Gordon. “I would have gone home, and I would’ve eaten dinner, and then I would've given my dog Sunkist a walk.”

Gordon blinked those delightfully long eyelashes of his. “I - that - I mean like, I already asked what you want to do when you go home. That’s nice, though.” His voice was soft and genuine, and he meant every word he said. “Um, but yeah, no, I mean like your dream for your life. Like, tonight you would eat dinner and feed Sunkist. But what about like, ten years from now? What do you want to do with your life?”

Tommy’s gaze lingered on Gordon for a very long time. He decided to deflect one truth with a different truth.

“Um, I’d still be taking care of Sunkist, because he’s immortal,” he allowed.

Gordon’s mouth parted in surprise. “Did your mom - you don’t have a mom. Who told you your dog’s immortal?”

“It’s a - uh-” How would Tommy explain the concept of Sunkist, that perfect, loyal, canid star? God, he missed him so much. “I made the dog,” he decided. “I made an immortal dog.”

A shocked laugh bubbled up from Gordon’s chest. Tommy couldn't help smiling in return. It was certainly a wild notion, spoken aloud, but a true one nonetheless. He was glad he got to share it with the man sitting across from him.

“I will - it will live long-” He stopped, caught his words, and tried again. “Sunkist will live longer than me.”

Gordon blew out an impressed breath, nodding. “I believe that. I mean,” he caught Tommy’s gaze, raising his brows in a significant look. “You’re a pretty talented man.”

Tommy blushed delicately at that. Flatterer, he wanted to say. Sweet talker. He wished he could say anything, even thank you, because that’s a thing that people say when they’re complimented. But he could only stare back mutely, cheeks glowing with gentle warmth.

“Um, yeah,” Gordon said. “Okay.” He heaved himself to his feet. Looked away. Scratched the back of his neck. “My dream?” He went on. “I don't know if you guys even care…”

Dr. Coomer had lost interest in the soccer game and wandered back over to the two of them. “I’d love to hear it, Gordon,” he piped up, tilting his head to the side with genuine curiosity.

Tommy nodded in agreement.

Gordon brightened. “My dream? You heard of the - there’s this new thing, Justin.tv? A website, have you been to Justin.tv? I wanna be a Justin.tv streamer.”

Dr. Coomer and Tommy looked at each other for clarification, but they were both equally lost. “What do they stream?” Coomer asked politely.

Gordon shrugged. “I mean usually, like, video games? Y’know like, the hottest new releases, like, Kane & Lynch 2: Dog Days.”

“That sounds pretty lame, Gordon,” Bubby commented, drawing up beside Coomer.

“I’ve never been big on video games.” The old boxer added.

“I mean, yeah, it’s - maybe it’s immature,” Gordon granted, “but I love it. And I mean, like, if I could do that with my money? And my time? That’d be incredible.”

Tommy didn’t know what half of the words Gordon had said meant, but he enjoyed seeing the way the guy’s face lit up in excitement when he talked about it. What a wonderful smile. What a lovely, desperate hope.

Dr. Coomer was still pondering. “My ex wife loved Kane & Lynch,” he recalled.

“It’s a great game,” Gordon said. “You should - I know you don’t like video games, but you should try it. It might turn you on the - on the medium.”

Coomer placed a delicate hand over his own chest, reeling back against Bubby in pretend shock. “It could turn me?”

Tommy put his head in his hands, shaking with laughter.

Chapter 6 <-----> Chapter 8

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #guns #violence #hlvrai

[atths--twice]

Chapter Four 

Arcade and Ice Cream 

Fun in an arcade, ice cream, and a little something extra.  

The teenagers Mulder has called out to, have stopped and let them catch up. Scully smiles at them as they approach and she sees a couple of the boys nudge each other as they look at her.

Fantastic. Nothing better than hanging around hormonal boys. Well, another one anyway, she thinks as she glances at Mulder.

“We were down the beach aways earlier. You called out that my friend here was “hot.”” Mulder says by way of introduction.

The boys that have nudged each other, drop their eyes to the sand. Mulder looks at Scully and winks. “Hey, I’m just busting your balls guys. I believe there was mention of an arcade?” The mood is broken and they all start talking at once. Mulder only hears what Scully is telling him with her eyes.

Thank you. That was very sweet. You made me very aroused.

He raises his eyebrows but answers back as best he can.

You’re welcome. I know, surprising huh? I’m pretty sure we can be in that limo in ten minutes. You interested?

She lifts her eyebrows back at him and tries not to laugh. They stand there staring at each other, invisible sparks flying, until someone taps Mulder’s arm. Once the connection is broken, it is like cold water has been splashed on them both.

“Umm.. did you want to hear about the arcade?” One of the girls asks Mulder, while looking between him and Scully with an odd expression. Mulder turns toward her and Scully turns the opposite direction fighting the urge to laugh.

The kids start walking toward the stairs up to the pier, telling Mulder all about the arcade there. Scully trails behind listening to the excited chatter. She hears Mulder yell “Skee-ball!” and she knows she is in trouble.

About a year ago, they had been staying in a tiny town that had a population of about 2,000 people. There had been claims of mysterious lights hovering over a particular area and people forgetting where they had been for hours at a time. Turned out, the town was performing tests of some kind with a laser light. The people who had forgotten where they had been, had been stoners, who Scully was sure they had seen somewhere before.

The case had been rather anticlimactic, but they had a lot of free time on their hands, more so than usual. There had been an arcade in town and Mulder had been like a kid in a candy store. He got a cup full of quarters and went from game to game with a gleeful look on his face.

He challenged her to air hockey and promptly lost three out of five games. He was not exactly a gracious loser. Though perhaps, she was not exactly a good winner. She strutted around like she had just won the Stanley Cup. He reminded her it was air hockey, but she just laughed and called him a poor sport.

But then.. then he had found the room with Skee-ball. He looked at her like he had found the Holy Grail. Considering all the things they had seen and experienced, she would not have thought this would bring as much joy as it did. But for almost an hour, they stood in a room and rolled balls up an inclined ramp into the awaiting holes.

Mulder was convinced he was good at this game. As if he could be better than her at rolling balls up into a hole. She just smiled and shook her head. He came over and attempted to “show her how to do it,” and she had stood up to her full height and told him to back the fuck off.

Holding a ball in one hand, and pointing into his chest with the other, it must have been comical to see from a distance. He was almost a foot taller than her. He might have looked menacing, if he was not grinning from ear to ear.

He stepped back, putting his hands up. She had narrowed her eyes at him, then raised her eyebrow. She turned, then looked at him one more time- a pitcher ready to deliver a strike, but keeping an eye on the base stealer. He just smiled and tilted his head, his eyes saying, “Let’s see what you got.”

She threw the ball and it landed in the one hundred point hole. She grabbed another ball and repeated her roll. Five balls in and she had five hundred points. Prize tickets were spewing out and Mulder stood there with his mouth agape.

Before she rolled her next ball, she stepped close to him and closed his mouth with a touch of her finger to his chin. His eyes met hers, full of questions. “Yeah,” she had said. “I’m actually good at this game.” She stepped back and rolled her next ball. She did not land in the hundreds again, but the four balls left added to two hundred, bringing her total to seven hundred points.

Lights were flashing and the amount of tickets on the ground was increasing, and now it had become a challenge. Mulder dropped a quarter in and nine new balls rolled down and cracked together. He picked one up and rolled his neck, took a deep breath, and threw the ball. Ten points. Scully chortled. He gave her a side eyed glare. Then he grabbed another ball and tried again. It hit the fifty point spot, bounced off, hit the twenty, then landed in the gutter. No points.

Scully turned around, a huge grin on her face. She laughed silently as she heard him swear and then throw another ball. She peeked over her shoulder-twenty points. Six more balls were thrown up the ramp. Ten, thirty, ten, twenty, forty, and finally fifty. His grand total, after much swearing and cajoling, was one hundred and ninety points.

He did not look at Scully, who was pressing her lips together, to keep from hysterically laughing. He bent down and grabbed his tickets, eight in all. He slumped his shoulders, hung his head, and turned to her.

Her eyes were dancing and her hands were full of tickets. He looked back at his small amount he had, then walked over and handed them to her. She said nothing but accepted the tickets as she handed him another quarter. His sad puppy dog eyes were too much, as he finally raised his eyes to look at her, she began to laugh.

He took the quarter she offered and said “Oh, it’s fucking on, Scully.” He grabbed a handful of quarters out of the cup she held and put them in his pockets. She grabbed her own bunch of quarters; then put the tickets in the cup.

They competed for points and tickets. Final tally after much swearing and throwing up of hands, Scully-two hundred tickets and Mulder-seventy five. With no quarters left, and the place closing, they went to the counter to spend their tickets.

Mulder saw there was not much of a selection for his tickets so he gave them to Scully. She immediately asked for the smiling troll doll with rainbow hair. Mulder made a face and said they were creepy. She did not care. He asked her why she would pick something so ugly and odd. She looked at him sweetly and said to remind her that just because something is smaller, it does not mean it can’t kick some ass. He smiled and they left the arcade.

Thinking of it now, she shakes her head. She knows that if this place has Skee-ball, he will demand a rematch. Okay, she thinks, I am up for the challenge.

She takes a few quick steps to catch up to the group as she catches Mulder’s eye as he looks for her. She nods at him and keeps walking. It is never easy to hurriedly run through sand. It is sort of the equivalent of snow in that matter. Time consuming, but worth the trip.

They reach the stairs and Mulder goes up a few before he turns and sits down. The kids around him have continued up to the top, except for a couple who are standing by him, still chattering away. He is still holding both pairs of shoes as he sits and waits for Scully to join him.

She walks up and looks at him waiting for her. He smiles and gets up, reaching for her hand, and stepping aside so she can take his seat. She gives him a funny look but allows his chivalrousness. She sits down and he bends over, setting his shoes down beside her. He sets hers gently in her lap, as he reaches for her foot. She stares at him as he begins to brush the sand from her foot. He glances up at her and grins. She feels her heart burst at the sweetness he is showing her.

Of course, it might have been hard to wipe her feet off with a dress on, without flashing someone. The fact that he either figured that, or figured he would just be a gentleman, makes her body tingle. With happiness, thankfulness, horniness. He gets her motor running with the simplest of gestures.

When the first foot is as clean as it will get, she grabs her shoe and starts to put it on. He stops her as he reaches next to her and grabs the sock out from inside his shoe. He sits one stair below her, sideways, his back against the railing. He grabs her foot and places it in his lap. He uses his sock to clean in between her toes and all around her foot. Making sure to try and get every last grain of sand off of her.

She is staring at him with her heart in her eyes. He is not paying attention to the fact that her eyes are shouting out her love for him. How much she appreciates what he is doing right now. How much she wants to kiss him and show him how what he is doing is affecting her. She wants to wrap herself around him and melt into him. He is looking at and talking to one of the boys in the group and they both laugh about something. She hears none of the conversation. All she can hear is the love he is conveying with his touch.

When he has her foot as clean as possible without some water, he reaches for her shoe. He lifts his eyes to hers for a second and then back down. But then he looks at her again. Her eyes are saying something different than they ever have before. He feels it pulling him from everywhere in his body. A current that runs without any assistance. Like a geyser or a volcano. No way to stop or control it.

He does not have to hear her words to know what her eyes are saying. Love is shining so strongly, he is surprised people are not falling under its sheer force. He smiles at her and slides her shoe on, as if she is Cinderella. He bows his head, then looks at her again. A big goofy grin on his face as he reaches for her other foot.

The boys on the stairs are staring at them. Their eyes darting back and forth, from Mulder and Scully, then to each other as they try to understand what they are seeing. They have never seen anyone look at one another like they are doing. It is almost uncomfortable. As if they are having a telepathic conversation, the way their heads tilt and they raise their eyebrows. It’s really weird, but they cannot stop watching them.

“Derek! Mike! You guys coming? The place closes soon,” someone calls from above. Derek and Mike look up at their buddies as they tear their eyes from Mulder and Scully. “Yeah! Be up in a minute!” They shout back.

Mulder has put Scully’s other shoe on and is working on his own sandy feet. He is less thorough with his own feet. He does not pay as much attention to his own comfort. As long as she is taken care of, that is what matters. Soon he is slipping on his socks, then putting on and tying his shoes. He stands up and brushes his hands on his pants, then together. He grins at the boys, then turns to Scully and extends his hand.

“Come on Scully, let’s go put that credit card to good use,” he says with happiness in his voice. She laughs and reaches for his hand, letting him pull her up. He pats one of the boys on the shoulder, letting him know they are ready. He keeps a hold on Scully’s hand as they begin to walk up the stairs. Once they reach the top, they break off. Mulder walks with the boys and the girls surround Scully.

“Is that your husband?” “He’s so handsome.” “Were you guys at a party tonight?” “Have you been married long?” “Did he give you his coat to wear?” “God, I wish Kevin was sweet like that.”

Scully’s head is swimming. Unaccustomed to “girl talk,” she feels out of her element. She can’t remember the last time she talked to a bunch of teenage girls that did not involve some kind of an investigation. She feels hot all of a sudden, a flush covering her body. They are all looking at her, waiting for answers.

“Yes,” she begins. “We were at a party tonight. A movie premiere actually. But, it was a flop and so we decided to take a walk on the beach. What about you all?” She figures if she steers the conversation back to the girls, she will be free from answering their questions.

As she predicted, they start talking about their night, laughing, groaning about boys, and she breathes a sigh of relief. She feels weird talking  to these girls about her and Mulder. She has not even talked to her mom about it. She glances up at Mulder and sees the boys pushing at each other as they laugh at something Mulder is saying. He is using his hands a lot and grinning. He has such an ease with people.

They reach the arcade and Mulder holds the door for all of them as they walk in. He snags the back of his jacket as Scully starts to walk past. She looks at him, surprised. He watches the kids walk in and then he looks down at her with a gleam in his eyes.

“Skee-ball, Scully. You’re going down.” he says, as he wiggles his eyebrows.

She looks back at him with fire in her eyes. She grabs a handful of his shirt, brings his face close to hers, and licks his lips, before kissing him deeply. She pulls back and stares at him.

“Let’s bet on it. Loser of Skee-ball, whoever “goes down”.. goes down,” she raises her eyebrows and runs her hand to his waistband. He jerks, but holds her stare. He grabs her hand and moves it away from him.

“Well, then I concede to you now. I will gladly “go down” if it means I get to go down.” He puts his hand on her hip, under his jacket, and pulls her to him. She can feel him and she knows contact will only make it worse, so she pulls away.

“No, Mulder. As much as I love that…hmmm, no, an actual bet. You need to actually try to win. No pussing out. Mulder, no,” she says, pointing at him, when he opens his mouth to deliver a snarky comeback to what she said. “Deal?” She sticks her hand out and they shake on it. She is so going to kick his ass. She feels her body heat up at what that will entail.

She slips past him and joins the group again. After he shakes his head to clear the many memories he has of her in the position he hopes to win by losing, he steps inside too.

The place is practically empty and there is a bored looking young man behind the counter. “We close in an hour,” he says in a bored voice as Scully steps up to speak to him.

“Perfect,” she says with a super sweet smile. “That’s just enough time to do what we want to do. We’re going to need.. 11, 12, 13, 14.. twenty dollars’ worth of quarters. So $280 worth of quarters please.” She takes the credit card out of her pocket and hands it to him.

The kids are looking at each other dumbstruck. They, no doubt, had not anticipated that happening and they started to raise their opposition.

“No ma’am, we have money, you don’t need to do that.” “It’s really fine.” “Please don’t do that, we can pay for it.” Come their collective shouts.

Mulder steps up toward Scully and looks at the kids. “Yeah, we do need to do this. Someone owes us for some shit they did, so they will be paying for this evening's fun. So,” he says looking at the employee holding the card in his hand, “please run that card for $280 worth of quarters, and fuck Federman.” He turns his head toward Scully and they grin.

She nods and waits for the guy to run the card and hand it back to her. She turns to the kids as the employee begins to gather up the quarters. “I’m happy to pay for everyone. Mulder’s right. By the way, he’s Mulder, I’m Scully. Anyway, he’s right. We are owed this night out. And, FUCK Federman!” She says as she raises her arms up.

Mulder laughs and so do all the kids. Then they all begin to shout “Fuck Federman!” over and over. Scully puts her hands up again to quiet them. She is laughing as they calm down. “Yes, this will be fun. But I swear to god, if any of you call me “ma’am” again, you will not like the consequences.” They all stare at her, not sure what to think. They look at each other.

Scully smiles and then she laughs. She takes Mulder’s coat off and lays it over her arm. “Just messing with you guys. Grab your quarters and go have fun. Come on Mulder, you have a bet to lose.” She grabs his arm and their quarters, and pulls him toward the Skee-ball area.

When the employee calls out to tell them the place is closing, an hour later, everyone is laughing and yelling to each other. It has been an incredibly fun night. Challenges were issued at almost every game. The victor of said game would shout “Fuck Federman!” when he/she won. Every time it happened, it was like music to Mulder’s ears. Fuck that fucking guy.

They all made their way to the prize counter. Scully watches as one of the girls steps up and asks for a prize. She does not have enough tickets and she embarrassingly starts to step back. One of the boys stops her and discreetly hands her his tickets. She looks at him and he smiles at her. She blushes so deeply, but accepts the tickets. He steps aside while he watches her ask for the prize she wants. He smiles as he looks away and sees Scully watching him. She smiles at him and he grins.

Mulder watches Scully watch the kids. He sees the boy give his tickets to the girl and watches Scully smile. God, he loves her so much. She has the most beautiful smile. She turns her head as the eye contact breaks with the boy. She is still smiling as she catches Mulder’s eye. She grins at him as he grins back.

The kids have their prizes and they stand to the side as Mulder and Scully step up to the counter. Mulder takes out a decent amount of tickets, but Scully’s pockets are bulging. She empties them and Mulder’s eyes bug out. Damn. She beat him. He lost. Or did he?

She looks at him and smiles. A huge smile. As the employee begins to count them, she raises up on tiptoes to his ear and whispers. “You pick out the prize, I’ll be getting mine later.” She steps back and watches his eyes burn into hers. She walks over and joins the kids, exclaiming over their choices. They all head outside and wait for Mulder to finish his choosing.

Mulder joins them with his prize, which he promptly hands over to Scully. He picked a small stuffed panda. “Much better than that creepy rainbow headed troll doll you got.” He shivers thinking about that thing.

Not only was it creepy, but she had teased him with it. He would find it hidden in the most unusual places. His bathroom shower, his cupboard, or his desk drawer. But the worst, had been under his pillow, which he found late at night. In the dark.

She thought it was so funny to hear him yell out, or get a call from him, swearing that he hated that goddamn troll. Her laugh coming through the phone was obnoxious when he was still seething, but adorable when he was not. He always gave her the doll back though, knowing she would get him again. He would moan and complain, but he loved anticipating her next move.

Scully smiles as she looks at the panda. “Well, this won’t be fun to hide and scare you with, so I guess I’ll just have to keep this one at home.” She looks disappointed as she sighs. But then she looks up at him and smiles.

She knows he hates that troll. She also knows it is in his hotel shower right now. When she had come to his room earlier, asking for his help to zip up her dress, she hid it in there. She decided this is the last hurrah with it and she is excited to be able to see his last reaction. She smiles bigger, knowing it is going to scare the shit out of him.

Mulder looks at her and smiles back, but something is off about her smile. He does not get a chance to figure it out, because someone yells “ice cream!” and he turns around. The kids are walking to the stand when he glances back at Scully. She nods and reaches for his hand.

He takes the panda back and puts it in his jacket pocket, then takes her hand. They reach the ice cream stand as the kids are ordering their cones. The poor employee is overwhelmed by fourteen people clamoring at once for their orders. Mulder calls for some order and points to the tables nearby. He tells some of them to sit and that treats are on Federman. To which they all holler back “fuck Federman” and he grins.

He tells Scully to sit and all but three people follow suit. Mulder places an order for fourteen soft serve swirl cones-half chocolate, half vanilla. “Wait, do you have dark chocolate or just a rich chocolate?” He asks looking at the menu.

“We have a dark chocolate, yes sir. Do you want fourteen of them?”

“No, just one. Thank you. The rest will be the swirl,” he turns to the boy next to him. “Jeremy, right? Great,” he says as the boy nods and he takes the dark chocolate cone from the man. “Can you give this cone to Scully? And ask her for the credit card, too.”

Jeremy walks over to Scully who is laughing at something the boys are saying. He hands her the cone and asks for the card. She hands it to him then turns and smiles at Mulder. He knows she loves dark chocolate. When she turns back she sees the girl, Meredith, watching Jeremy walk back to Mulder. They were the same kids she watched in the arcade. Scully hears her sigh as she looks down.

“Have you two been dating long?” Scully asks her, taking a lick of her cone.

Meredith’s head pops up and she is bright red. “Me and Jeremy? No! No..no..no.. he, he likes girls that aren’t like me. Prettier and not so smart. No.. that.. no.” She looks down again, shaking her head.

Scully looks at her and is about to say something when Jeremy walks up again. He clears his throat and Meredith looks up to see him holding out a cone to her. Scully coyly looks around and sees no one else has an ice cream yet. She looks down and presses her lips together to stop from smiling.

Meredith takes the cone and he nods at them both. Scully watches as he walks back to Mulder and then she looks back at Meredith and grins. “Huh, I think you may be wrong about something,” Scully began as Meredith sat holding her cone, not moving. She looks at Scully, unsure of what she means. “You notice that nobody else has their cones yet? Besides us?” Scully says with a sly smile.

Meredith looks around, her hand still frozen in place, holding her cone. She looks back at Scully and shakes her head. Scully smiles at her. She is a cute girl, but not aware of it yet it seems. She has straight thick golden brown hair that Scully was always envious of as a young girl. Big blue eyes that see so much behind the black glasses Scully is sure she hates.

Scully leans forward and pushes Meredith’s cone toward her mouth. “I think you’re right that he doesn’t like girls like you. I think he likes you. Is he looking over here?” Scully does not want to be obvious and turn around and stare. Meredith quickly glances over to the stand and she turns so red, Scully knows her answer. She smiles and leans back, taking some licks of her cone.

“That’s crazy. I’ve known him almost my whole life. I..” Meredith says as she looks down and then at Scully again. “He has always dated or been around girls different than me. I mean, I’ve liked him for a long time. A really long time. But..” she licks her ice cream before it starts dripping everywhere, but she's still preoccupied.

“Has he always been nice to you? Kind, helpful, inclusive? Likes to talk to you? Gives you his game tickets so you can get the prize you want?” Scully smiles at her as she blushes again.

“You saw that?” Scully nods. “That was nice of him, I know. He is always nice to me. But that doesn’t mean he likes me, aside from a friend standpoint. We’re friends. That’s all. Just friends.” She looks sadly at her ice cream.

Scully gets up and comes to sit next to her. She looks up at Mulder standing with the boys who are helping dole out the cones. He must feel her stare because he looks at her and winks. She smiles and feels her stomach flutter.

She also notices that Jeremy is looking at Meredith with worry and care. She has seen the same expression on Mulder’s face many times. He has got it bad. She turns toward Meredith and smiles at her.

“Meredith, Mulder and I work together. We have for seven years now. He is my best friend, my partner. We’ve been so much to each other over the years, but friends before anything else. He is the one person I want to talk to every day. The one I can fight with but then simply touch his hand to know we are okay. I know that since I’ve been telling you this, he’s looked over here five times wondering what I could possibly be talking to you about so intently. Look, he’s watching now.” Scully smiles as she and Meredith look over and see that Mulder is staring right at them. He grins and looks back at the stand.

“See? I know him,” she laughs as she takes another lick of her cone. “I know you’re young and still haven’t figured everything out yet, but I think that Jeremy is trying to get your attention. Simple small gestures are the best way to start. He’s done two already tonight.” They smile at each other. Mulder appears and plops down across from them.

“Hey! That took a long time, Jesus.” He takes a huge bite of ice cream and Scully cringes. He is the only person she knows who does not seem to get brain freeze. Another huge bite and he realizes Meredith’s cone is dripping everywhere. He jumps up and heads to get some napkins, but the dispenser is empty.

“Excuse me? You back there? You’re all out of napkins. Do you have mor…” he trails off as he hears a familiar song. “HEY! You back there? Can you turn this up?” The employee walks out with a pack of napkins and looks at Mulder with a question written on his face. “Is this a CD? Or the radio?” Mulder asks, looking a little crazed.

“It’s a CD. Why are you wondering?”

“Could you make it so it can be heard out here? Are you able to do that? With speakers or something?” He starts to look around and sees that there are speakers. “Yes, you have speakers. Can you make it so it can be heard out here and then start that song over. Please and thank you.” He stands and watches him set up the audio for the speakers and then the play button is pressed. The piano music starts and Mulder grins.

He turns and leans back on his elbows, against the counter, staring at Scully, waiting for her to hear the music. She is talking to the girl again. When she hears the music begin to play, she turns her head and looks at him, beaming. She says something to the girl and gets up, smiling as she walks toward him, tossing her ice cream in the trash. He stands up and walks to meet her halfway, grinning like a fool, throwing away his ice cream as well.

He puts his hand out and his head down when she gets closer. She laughs and takes his hand. He pulls her in and begins to dance her around the little area of the pier. She is laughing as they spin around, thinking of the last time they danced to this song. He spins her out and then back to him. She throws her head back and laughs and then gasps. Jeremy is asking Meredith to dance.

Then, one by one the other kids pair up and start dancing. Some random pier goers join in and everyone is dancing and laughing. Mulder looks at them and then back at Scully and grins. Then he drops to his knees, belting out with the song, “Man I a-am TONIGHT!” as she laughs and the others holler and whistle.

He stands back up and pulls her close. His hand on her waist, his other hand holding hers, close to his heart. Then he pulls back and looks in her eyes as the song begins to end. Those last piano notes are his favorite part of the song. Unlike the last time they did this, he is able to do what he had wanted, and kiss her. So he does.

He has an arm around her waist and his other hand is in her hair, holding her neck. She has her arms locked around his neck. They are making up for the kiss they missed out on, when they were still beginning to realize, they were headed in this direction. He lifts her off the ground as he leans back and keeps kissing her. She laughs and pulls back as he sets her down, but does not release her.

From behind them comes first one, and then many voices, shouting “Fuck Federman!” “Fuck Federman!” They look and the kids have formed a huddle, screaming that out, as they do some kind of dance. Mulder laughs.

Scully nudges Mulder and motions with her chin toward the table where they had been sitting. Jeremy and Meredith are still holding onto one another and swaying even though the song is over.

Scully smiles as she watches them when Mulder turns his head back to her. “Yeah, that’s not too surprising,” he says as he pulls her close and rests his chin on her head.

She pulls back and looks at him, questions in her eyes. He looks back at her and falls into her eyes. “The boy has been in love with her for years. Looks like he finally had the balls to do something about it.” He holds her gaze, letting his eyes tell her what his mouth cannot. She smiles and he pulls her close, resting his forehead on hers swaying to music that is no longer playing.

The stars are out, the waves are crashing, the ocean air is pungent, laughter is ringing out, shouts and whistles are echoing in the night air, and they are happy.  

#whoever goes down goes down #arcade battle #FUCK Federman #ice cream and dancing on the pier #making new friends