#is it any surprise I picked a wobble stool when I was in an office?

[thresholdbb]

You expect me to believe that the Voyager crew managed to sit still through the EMH's PowerPoint?

For over an hour?

In spinning rolly chairs?

Doubt

#holodeck office furniture outlet #and they kept them in those nice rows #you know the urge to fidget was strong #plus pneumatics #up down spinny roll roll #see also janeway adhd thesis by rowark #star trek voyager #nothing human #is it any surprise I picked a wobble stool when I was in an office? #teaching I would sit/lean on the table and wander around the room #idk who let me into a classroom lol #the office chairs kill me every time they're so funny

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hi! I saw prompt #196 and damn, I couldn't stop thinking about Andy 🥴

I hope this isn't too out there hahaha.

Work It Out

Warnings: implied noncon, cheating, two faced Andy

You hate everything. It feels like no matter what you do, you can't win. You're starving, you're sore, and exhausted. And the scale hasn't ticked a single number down. You were trying everything those fad diets and fitness guides told you. You just couldn't seem to shed the extra pounds.

Your days at the gym grew no less uncomfortable as you look around and see enviable bodies, younger, older, all of the above. Every body that wasn't yours.

You turn up the belt until you're jogging, almost too fast until you're sure you'll fall on your face. You try to meter your pants and keep from hanging your mouth open, instead puffing through your nose. 

You wipe your forehead and feel a trickle of sweat on your lip as you brace the metal handbars and keep your feet moving. You bat away droplets with your lashes and flick away that on your lip with your tongue. You shakily pull on your shirt to air out the dampness and nearly stumble.

“Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip?" The deep voice startles you and you clasp tightly to the machines as your soles crash down clumsily, "Cause if you did, we’re having sex right now.”

You saw the man every day as you went to the same treadmill. You would guess he's 40, maybe older, and in peak shape for one half his age. He leans an elbow on your machine as you gape at him and stammer at how he arches a brow. Your grip slips and you go hurtling back as you fall to your knees and fly off the back of the machine.

"Oh shit," you hear him as you catch yourself on your hands and gasp for air, muscles shaking, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break your concentration."

You hear a beep and the belt stills before he nears you. He kneels down and touches your shoulder as you lift your head.

"I think… um, I misread the situation, I thought you were looking at me," he chuckles nervously, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you sit back on your heels and rub your hip, "just mortified."

"I really didn't…" he pauses and drops his hand from your shoulder, "wow, I should be embarrassed. These last two weeks I thought… well I thought you were looking at me and, geez, that guy on the lift machine must have thought I was winking at him."

"I don't know--" you touch your chest as you catch your breath, "what?"

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugs and stands up, offering his hand, "get a bit carried away watching you… that sounds weird, I'm sorry."

You take his hand and let him pull you up. You nod and smile awkwardly. "I'm flattered," you say thinly, "but… what would your wife think?"

You let go of his hand and look pointedly at his ring. He gives a tight-lipped smile and sucks his teeth, "separated… I just, uh, feel naked without it."

"Oh, sorry," you cringe, "that sounds, uh, complicated."

"Not really, just had to go to a new gym so I didn't see her with the other man," he scoffs, "that's too much information, huh?"

"You know, you just watched me land on my ass, I wouldn't worry about it," you wave him off, "but uh…" you try not to let your eyes drift but they do. He's fit and fine and you can't imagine any woman cheating on him but that ring was a problem, "look, I do mean it, it's flattering but I'd rather wait until you can take the ring off. It's… not something I wanna step in, you know?"

"Makes sense," his smile fell, "so…" he wiggles the ring off and tucks it into his pocket.

"Um," you look around but no one else seems to notice you or the man.

"Oh uh that was just an awful line," he shakes his head, "we can start with drinks."

You squint at him and bite your lip. His eyes follow and you make yourself stop.

"That's so hot," he says, "you sure you weren't looking at me?"

"You sure you were looking at me?" You counter, "uh, a drink sounds… fine but I might stick to water, as you saw I'm not great on my feet."

"Sure, I gotta finish my cool down but do you know The Frog?"

"Yeah, just down the block," you fill in.

"I'll be there at…" he checks his apple watch, "seven? Can I expect you?"

"Mhmmm," you nod nervously, half disbelieving and half humiliated.

"Andy," he offers his name and his hand. You shake it and give your own. 

He winks and you try to hold a smile. You watch him go back to the weight bench before you retrieve your water bottle and retreat. You could hit the shower before the bsr and at least save a little face.

💪

You walk into the bar before you can lose your nerve. You look around in the dim light, certain this is a cruel trick. That man could not be interested in you. Even if he was halfway a divorce, it was too good to be true. You won't be surprised if you're stood up.

"Hey," you see the wave of the hand and hear the half shout. 

You let out your breath and cross to the tall table in the corner. You smile and climb up on the stool across from Andy. He returns the gesture and looks over as a server approaches.

"Are we finally ready?" She asks sweetly.

"Stella," he orders and nods at you. You order a diet coke and the server smiles at Andy before she walks away. 

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you say. 

"Nope," he says coolly, "you know, one drink couldn't hurt. It might ease the sting a little from earlier too."

"Hmm," you grin sheepishly, "there's not enough gin in the world for that."

"Oh, a gin girl, I'll keep that in mind," he smirks, "so how was the rest of your work out?"

"A work out," you scoff, "I thought exercise was supposed to be relaxing."

"Certain kinds are more effective," he lifts a brow and you roll your eyes at the flirty remark.

"Wow, you're such a cheeseball," you giggle.

"I'll take it," he says, "I usually get meatball, all brawn no brain."

"That's yet to be determined," you jibe and sit back as the server returns with your drinks and you thank her. 

"No pressure," he says dryly, "none at all."

You laugh again. This Is easier than you expect. You've never been the smoothest and he was probably the best looking guy you ever talked to. No guy with his eyes and his jawline saw you past the skinny blondes and stunning insta models.

You lose track of time and finish your drink. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and only then realise how Andy's progressively shifted his stool around so he's right beside you. You need to take a breath. 

You feel lighter when you come out from the bathroom and pass another woman on her way in. You slow as you get to the bar as you find Andy with his phone to his ear. You near quietly, hoping not to disturb his call.

"No, I'm still at the office," he says, "yeah… no I forgot to grab the dry cleaning, Laurie. Tomorrow, okay? Right, bye, hon."

He hangs up and you realise he's lying to the woman on the phone and you. You brush by his seat and grab your purse from the back of the chair where you slung it.  He flinches as you pull out your wallet.

"So Laurie, that your wife?" You pick through your bills, "doesn't sound like you're separated."

"Woah, come on, let me explain," he tries to push your wallet away and you toss a five on the table, the tip would be as much as the drink itself.

"Explain what?" You rolls your eyes and scowl, "I'm so stupid."

You storm away and hear him shuffle before his stool wobbles and his steps follow you out into the night. He catches your arm and pulls you back before you can hail a cab.

"Look, I…" he drops his head, "we may as well be separated okay? She hasn't touched me in over a year, I sleep on the couch in my office… all we do is fight."

"So? Either get counselling or cut ties, but I'm not fucking with a married man--"

"I… I'm waiting until my son goes to college," he says desperately as you shrug him off.

"And in the meantime what? You pick up fat girls at the gym to fill the void--"

"You're the only girl--"

"Besides your wife," you spit, "wow, I feel special."

You turn and try to raise your hand. It's caught in mid air and you're pulled back by the back of your shirt. You look around but you're too far down for the bouncer to see you and there's no one else passing by. 

Andy's thick arm snakes around your neck and his bicep pushes your chin up. He drags you around the corner and forces you toward an SUV. You bring your feet up and hit the side with your soles.

"The fuck?"

"Please, don't act like I'm not doing you a favour, honey," he gropes your ass as you struggle with him.

"Get off," you grunt as his hand slips over your hip and he turns you as he rips the door open. 

"Shhh," he pushes you up into the back seat and you slip down on the floor.

You push yourself up and huff on your stomach. You reach to the other door as he climbs in behind you and the doors click as you grab the handle. He straddles your ass as his hand covers your mouth and he bends over you. 

He presses his cheek to your temple and hushes you again. You see the shadows of pedestrians and their voices as they pass just outside. You murmur into his palm and claw at the door helplessly. Their steps fade into the distance as Andy grinds his crotch against your ass.

"Honey," he growls through his teeth, "I know you were looking at me…"

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #drabble #ask #request

[ajbwasntwriting]

To Serve and Protect (Bucky Barnes x Police!Fem!Reader)

the twd obsession has been interrupted since I’ve started watch TFATWS and have binged bucky fics like I was 15.

Summery: - Reader is an accomplished New York officer but an old case comes back in the shape of a super soldier in need of aid.

Warnings: - Light Spoilers for TFATWS, Cursing, mentions of Human Trafficking, flirty Bucky(kind of I tried)

You had just received your second medal of honor before the blip had occurred. When you came back, you were nearly arrested for breaking into what you had known as your apartment. Luckily, the situation was under control quickly. You had family just outside the city who were willing to support you until you got back on your feet but it still felt like a kick in the gut that your home was gone and you now had to learn a bunch of new skills to do with being a cop. Most of your friends had either died during the five years or had to move out of New York, and those who remained had moved on and didn’t seem to have time for you in their lives.

At least a few of your favourite places had stayed open, including what you thought was the best pizza joint in the state. You got dinner here most nights because it hadn’t changed. The tables still wobbled, the neon sign still buzzed from overuse, and Louis the owner still kept a couple slices of your favorite pie in the back for you.

“Please tell me the back booth is free” you sighed, taking the food from Louis.

“Long day, Detective?” Louis replied.

“New partner thinks I’m an idiot.” You mumble, taking a bite from the pie and burning your tongue.

“It’s clear,” Louis said sympathetically, nodding to the far side of the restaurant.

You slid into the small booth tucked out of the way, tucking into your pizza and soda. After your first slice you noticed a carving on the table. It was your initials plus A.S. equals epic. You smiled as you remembered your previous partner Aarush Sharma. You two had been friends since you joined the force and had come to this booth almost every break hour to fill up on pizza and terrible coffee.

“Detective L/N.” A gruff voice spoke to you. Judging by the shadow he casted over you, he was a big man.

“Look if your here to buy me off or intimidate me,” you snapped, “then you can fu-” you stopped short when you looked up. You recognised the man as James Buchanen Barnes instantly. “Oh,” you sighed with relief.

“You know me?” he asked you.

“Followed the Zemo case.” you explained. He visibly tensed at the mention of Zemo. You held up your hand to calm him. “I know you’ve been pardoned.” You suddenly remembered how your conversation with the Winter Soldier had begun “wait, how do you know me?”

“I need your help,” He spoke low, just so the two of you could hear. He slid opposite you in the booth, leaning forward on the table. “Two-thousand-fifteen, August seventh you filed a report on a human trafficking ring operating out of staten island.” You began eating your second slice of pizza as he talked. “You arrested the main perpetrators, with the exception of Donnie Morris and Frank Abara. You opened an investigation on them but it went cold two months later.” You nodded along to the story. “That’s because-”

“They’re Hydra? Real names Robert Bern and Josh Smith? And the trafficking was for human experimentation?” you interrupted him. He stared at you, just about concealing his surprise. “I was a good cop.” you finished off your pizza, wiping your mouth and looking away in shame. “Was.”

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They threatened me.” You patted the flour off your hands and picked up your soda. “And when that didn’t work, they told my friends to stop me else their family would be hurt, so.” you slurped on your soda and stared back at him.

His piercing blue eyes were reading you like a book, pulling apart your disgust at never catching them, and trying to figure out how to use it to his advantage. He had to admit it was impressive that a normal police officer was able to get farther than he was, but you were still a normal person.

“I need to find them,” he spoke up.

“Why?” you cocked your eyebrow, soda straw still in your mouth. You had been studying his face to find any tell of malintent but the only conclusion you were drawing was that he was handsome as hell, and really good at hiding his tells.

“You don’t need to know.” he retorted. You hummed with discontent.

“See, Mr. Barnes. My job is to protect and serve. Sadly, that includes assholes.” You put down the now empty soda cup and leaned forward to match his position. “And you’ve said enough for me to arrest you under suspicion of planning to commit a crime against said assholes.” His glare hardened and his jaw tightened as he stared you down. “So please answer the question, ideally in a non-incriminating way.”

He looked and huffed, sliding back a little before fixing you with his stare again, but it wasn’t long until he was looking from his hands to the window, seemingly in defeat. “Their boss is dangerous. And I’m the one that made it so.” He forced a bitter smile finally looking back at you. “I’m trying to right as many wrongs as I can but I can’t find this guy but you.” he punctuated by pointing at you with his joined hands. You caught a glint of something metal up his sleeve that you suspect was his arm. “You came very, very close. Apparently, Closer than I thought you did.”

You mulled it over in your head for a moment before reaching into your breast pocket and pulling out your notepad. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Barnes” You looked over the restaurant between bouts of writing, talking all the while in case people were listening. “The case is closed and the records are public so everything you know is everything I know.” You quietly ripped off the piece of paper and pocketed the notebook, picking up your trash to disguise it. He took the hint and hid the paper by putting his hands down and sliding back in the booth, seemingly in defeat. “Good night, Mr. Barnes.” you said, and walked away, depositing your trash on your way out.

Bucky sat their a moment to give you a head start before stepping out himself, piece of paper in hand. As he walked home he opened the paper.

Tomorrow Seneca Village 23:35

Bucky stood in front of the plaque, mind too busy working through every horrible thing that could happen from this little stunt. He was about to run when he heard your voice. “Hey there.”

You walked over and stood next to him, stoically in your repose. You were wearing a pair of jeans and heeled boots with a fashionable jacket and a suitcase in hand. “I don't know which of us is stupider right now.”

“You could have picked a better meeting spot.” Bucky retorted, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s horrifying,” you commented, putting the case down, Reading over the plaque. “Over two hundred lives ruined by a couple of assholes who wanted a park. Reminds me of another couple of assholes.”

“Yeah?” Bucky replied. You stood there a moment longer, thinking if you could still go back. You bit your tongue and decided having faith was the better bet.

“Burn it when you’re done.” you shot back and walked past him.

Bucky noticed the case just outside his line of vision. He picked it up and walked away from the plaque, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible despite the case not really matching his attire.

You didn’t hear anything for a couple weeks after the impromptu meeting, having handed over every piece of evidence that had been sitting in your self storage since 2015. Each minute was spent biting your nails with stress, hoping your actions didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Then the news came on, publicizing that Robert Bern and Josh Smith had been arrested ‘after it was discovered they were connected to a human trafficking ring in New Jersey and a former operation in Staten Island.’

“Looks like somebody did your job for you.”

“Shut up, Louis.” you quip back at him, nursing a terrible cup of coffee. The restaurant was near empty aside from yourself, Louis, a trio of loud drunk women in the corner and a homeless man who had scraped cents together to buy a slice of pizza. The TV above the kitchen archway providing most of the ambiance.

“What’s got you in a mood?” he asked as he cleaned.

“Ever been ditched on a blind date? I get all dolled up,” you opened your coat to show a figure hugging dress with a low neckline, coupled with an elegant necklace. “And the asshole texts me when I’m already at the lounge saying he needs a fucking rain check.”

“Okay, well he’s an ass-”

“Right!” you exclaim.

“But you need to stop scowling before you scare off my customers.” Louis playfully chided.

“Oh, cause there’s so many of them.” you waved a hand out at the restaurant to emphasize your point. Still you leaned over your coffee to stew in your own misery. You couldn’t hear the door open over the women’s third rendition of ‘I’m every woman’ but you noticed someone slide onto the bar stool next to you. You turned your head to see Bucky looking back.

“Have I seen you here before?” Bucky said playfully.

You chuckled involuntarily and sat up on your stool. “You must be mistaking me with someone else.”

He swiveled on the stool to face you fully, leaning on the counter comfortably. “You sure?” he seemed to be playing with you, a sly smirk on his face. “Could’ve sworn I met this detective lady here who looked a lot like you.”

“Was she pretty?” You pressed, a smile now sneaking it’s way onto your face without you knowing.

Bucky looked in your eyes with a soft sincerity. “Incredibly,”

You laughed nervously as you looked away and into the pool of your coffee. “Was that before or after she helped you with your job.” You deflected.

“About that,” Bucky leaned onto the counter. He was still quiet good at hiding his tells but you got the impression he was nervous by the pause. “You gave me more than I needed so I was able to do better than I planned. I know how hard it can be to trust someone. I'm not sure how to thank you for that.”

“Take her on a date!” Louis yelled from the kitchen, looking at you two through the serving window. “She’s already all ‘dolled up’” Louis mocked you.

“Keep cleaning!” you shot back. “Ignore him. He’s just dripping with sympathy since I got ditched.”

“I mean,” Bucky started, you looked over and saw him staring at his hands with nerves as his thumbs tapped against each other. “I just wouldn’t know where to take you.” he admitted under his breath.

A question instantly plagued your mind and it demanded to be asked. “Have you not...since nineteen-fifty?”

Bucky nodded with pursed lips. “You can laugh.”

You smiled at the super soldier. “Right,” you announced, pushing yourself off the stool. “Come on, I know a great dive three down.”

“A dive?” Bucky asked in disbelief, but he was still smiling.

“Yep. Where they don’t give a shit who you are as long as you're buying.” You fixed your jacket with new found enthusiasm. “You are buying, right?”

“For a doll like you,” He stood up from the stool. “I’ll buy the bar.” he held the door as you both left the little pizzeria

“Oh honey, there’s nothing like me.” you said playfully as you stepped out the door.

“Then I must be the luckiest man in the world,” he flirted, offering you his arm. You slide your hand in, curling your wrist around his bicep and off you both went.

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #tfatws #tftws #reader x bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james barnes #reader x bucky barnes #fem!reader #fem!reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fem!reader #remale reader #reader insert #mcu reader insert #mcu bucky #mcu bucky barnes

[weighty-ghosts]

‘Lion-Hearted’

Lion-Hearted, by weightyghosts

“Minerva McGonagall was as shocked as the rest of Hogwarts when a member of the House of Black was sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin, for the first time in their family’s long history. When young Sirius came to her with doubts and a fear of his parents’ wrath, Minerva had to assure him of where he truly belonged.”

Rating: General

Word count: 1501

Pairing: None

Published: March 6, 2021

Warnings: Allusions to abusive family

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872218

   It was September 1st, 1971, and Minerva McGonagall was standing in the Great Hall, a scroll of parchment in hand, and the newest students of Hogwarts gathered in front of her, waiting to be sorted into their Houses.

She looked at the next name on her list, and called out, “Black, Sirius.”

An onyx-haired boy with steel-grey eyes, expensive robes, and perfect posture made his way through the throng of first years that quickly parted for him. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself with the air of someone born into opulence, who had been told from birth that the world was his to take.

Curiously, the closer Sirius Black got to the stool where the Sorting Hat rested, the more his arrogance seemed to slip into apprehension. He climbed the three short steps, then hesitated, his hand hovering an inch away from the Hat, before he plucked it up and placed it on his head, perching gracefully on the edge of the stool.

Minerva checked her list again, getting the next name ready on her lips, assuming the Hat was about to cry, “Slytherin!”

It did not.

Chatter had picked up in the Hall when she’d called Black’s name (it wasn’t all that exciting when you already knew where a student would go), but it started to die down as the seconds dragged on.

Minerva glanced at the Slytherin table, where they had no doubt been preparing to welcome their newest member, but heads were now turning in confusion. Bellatrix Black was leaning in to whisper something to her younger sister, Narcissa, who pursed her lips together like she’d tasted something sour. The middle sister, Andromeda, peered nervously between the two of them and their little cousin.

A minute had gone by and the entire Hall seemed to be holding their collective breath.

Minerva looked down at the boy on the stool, wondering what sort of conversation could have been going on in there, when the Hat suddenly opened the slit near it’s brim and roared-

“Gryffindor!”

Silence swept over the room. Minerva tried not to show her surprise, but she was as frozen in shock as everyone else.

Sirius slowly removed the Hat from his head, as he slid off the stool, and turned around to carefully set it down. He seemed uncertain of what to do next, and Minerva instinctively reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

Sirius met her gaze, and for the briefest of seconds she thought she saw fear in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He spun around to face the rest of the school, and Minerva was filled with immense pride for his courage. She began to clap enthusiastically, the professors behind her following suit, and then all of Gryffindor stood and erupted in raucous cheers. Minerva had to suppress an eye roll as they jeered and threw smug looks towards the Slytherins on the opposite side of the room.

Sirius finally broke out into a wide grin as he sauntered over to his new House table, finding a seat in the midst of scarlet and gold.

As she continued with the ceremony, Minerva peeked back at Sirius and watched as his eyes tentatively raised to the far table, locking with the other faces that looked so much like his own. His smile faltered, then dropped altogether as the colour drained from his previously rosy cheeks.

She followed his line of sight, and a chill went down her spine. The rest of the Slytherins looked murderous enough, but something about Bellatrix and Narcissa’s expressions unnerved her; it wasn’t shock or anger that she was seeing, it was disgust. Andromeda’s face was as pale as Sirius’, though her eyes were full of pity and worry.

When Minerva glanced back at Sirius, he looked ill, with his head bowed and mouth in a thin line, gazing desolately at the empty gold plate in front of him.  

* * *

The following morning, the Great Hall was full of nervous first and second year students, anxious about being late on their first day, and keen to start the year off well. The older students would be along soon, the novelty of waking up early having worn off long ago.

Minerva had just finished breakfast when her eyes landed on the Black boy, and she was content to see that he seemed happier than yesterday, talking animatedly to his dorm-mates: Potter, Pettigrew, and Lupin. She was particularly pleased to see Sirius engaging with Remus; when she had met the young werewolf in her office last night, before bringing him to the hospital wing to meet Poppy, she’d had the impression that he planned on keeping to himself as much as possible and not making friends because of his condition. Minerva had been worried about him, but perhaps she didn’t need to be.

She smiled to herself before standing to make her way to her office to gather what she needed for the day, exiting the Great Hall as the owls flew overhead to deliver the morning post.

She’d barely had a chance to review her first lesson plan when there was a knock at her door.

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Mr. Black,” she greeted from her desk, waving Sirius inside. Her movement faltered as she took in the hollow expression on his face and the heaviness weighing down his shoulders, a stark contrast from how he’d appeared a few minutes before. “Please have a seat. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied automatically, and sat down in one of the chairs in front of her, sitting up rigidly.

“What can I help you with, then?” Minerva asked, clasping her hands on the desk.

Sirius hesitated, clenching and unclenching one of his fists, hard enough to leave imprints in his palm from his fingernails. “Professor,” he started slowly, “I was wondering… Has anyone ever switched Houses after the Sorting?”

Minerva blinked at him in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Is it possible…for a student to switch Houses from the one they were sorted into?”

“No, Mr. Black,” she replied in a measured tone, “It is not possible and no one has ever done it before. Why do you ask?”

Sirius nodded slightly, sticking his hand in his pocket to fiddle with something that made a rustling noise.

“Are you unhappy with the Sorting Hat’s choice?” Minerva inquired, unable to hide the slight bite to her question. She hoped Sirius hadn’t come to tell her that Slytherin was somehow a better House and that’s where he wanted to be.

Sirius’ head whipped up, his eyes wide. “No, Professor!” He hastened to say, “I love being in Gryffindor!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked panic-stricken and guilty, like he’d said something terribly wrong.

“Mr. Black, the Hat knows a person’s innermost thoughts and wishes; it is rarely wrong.”

“But it has been wrong before?” He questioned, desperation laced into his voice.

Minerva sat back in her chair and gazed thoughtfully at the boy in front of her, wondering what had happened at breakfast to cause his distress. “Sirius,” she broached, ignoring his surprise at hearing his first name, “Did you receive a letter from your parents this morning?”

She knew straight away from his reaction that she was correct.

“They aren’t happy with me,” Sirius whispered after a moment, his eyes on his knees.

“Sirius,” she repeated, waiting until he looked up at her, “It is perfectly normal for one to diverge from their family’s House history. It was bound to happen at some point in the Black family, and I’m very glad that it was you.” Sirius bit his lip to keep it from wobbling, his eyes as big as saucers, and Minerva thought he looked years younger than the boy who had swaggered into Hogwarts only yesterday.

“I am quite proud of my House,” she continued, “and I am very proud of you for knowing where your place truly lies in this school. Gryffindor is undoubtedly lucky to have you.”

Minerva’s heart almost broke as she watched Sirius’ eyes fill with tears. He wiped furiously at them, blushing faintly.

“Now, I don’t want to hear any more talk about switching Houses. Your cousins will have me to answer to, should they cause trouble. The same goes for your parents. You and I are Gryffindors for a reason, Mr. Black; lion-hearted, courageous, daring. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sirius sniffed.

“Off you go now,” Minerva instructed with a smile, receiving a watery one in return as Sirius stood up. She watched him swiftly exit the room, and her smile faded as his steps grew fainter.

She felt a fierce wave of emotion and knew she would do everything she could to protect this child from the storm that would surely be coming for him. No Slytherin, current or former, would intimidate or bully one of her students.

Minerva braced herself for a memorable new year at Hogwarts.

*

#Sirius Black #Minerva McGonagall #mcgonagall POV #minnie mcg #all hail queen minnie #the beginning of a beautiful friendship #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #sorting hat #professor mcgonagall #ficbyweightyghosts #harry potter fanfic

[audreyxmoon]

i’d do anything for you

gif by @spencexreidimagine​

warnings: kidnapping, guns, assault, things go downhill pretty quick, torture, angst

You weren’t a flirt, okay, maybe you were a little. But you couldn’t help yourself! Everyone has a hamartia, and that was yours. You really couldn’t help yourself. You tucked your hair behind you ear as you made coffee with Reid in the BAU kitchen. He began pouring in his usual amount of sugar and almost stopped when he met your judgemental gaze. 

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ You say lightly, sipping your coffee.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Why so much sugar Doc? Some would say that’s bad for you.’ You reply. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. ‘Some of us like it sweet.’

‘Like it sweet hey?’ You ask, making him blush. The ends of his lips quirked up as he looked down at his sneakers.

‘If you’re missing some sugar in your life i’ve got some to spare.’ You say with a wink, making Reid turn even more red if that was possible. ‘Speaking of...’ You say, touching Garcia’s shoulder and pulling her in. 

‘Here’s the sweetest person on the floor.’ 

‘See ya Reid.’ You say with a little wave before sashaying over to your desk to talk to Luke who wanted to discuss a case, not before you whispered in his ear something which made both of you laugh and look over at a virtually glowing Reid. 

‘You can’t keep teasing him like this Y/N. You’ll drive the poor guy insane.’ 

‘Luke- I’m just having fun.’ You whined. ‘Look he’s... fine?’ You say looking back over at Reid, who in an attempt to act cool had somehow managed to knock over the sugar and was furiously trying to clean up the mess. 

‘Look at boy wonder! He’s losing it.’ Luke whispered in surprise.

Prentiss made her way over to you two. ‘We’ve got a case. Wheels up in thirty, I’ll brief you on the plane.’ 

...

You and the team had settled in at the local police station and Prentiss had left you and Reid to work on the geographical profile. Reid had been avoiding you since this morning’s incident and you almost... missed him? You felt his presence behind you and you turned around to see him standing close to you.

‘Uh- Y/N could you please ask one of the officers if there are any popular party sites near by?’

‘Sure.’ You say tentatively, squeezing past him to reach the door. ‘Want anything from the office?’ You ask. 

‘No thanks.’ He said with a smile. You couldn’t help but think he was trying to get rid of you.

You found an officer sitting at his desk.  

‘Um, officer... Holder, hi! I was wondering if there are any common party sites around here? I’m SSA Y/N by the way.’ You sat up on his desk.

‘Yes, in-fact I know a few.’

You put your map down on the table and let Officer Holder circle the locations. 

‘Thank you so much Officer Holder!’ You said gratefully.

‘Please, just call me Ben.’ 

‘Well thank you Ben.’ You restated. ‘I love your necklace by the way.’ You say, catching the gold glimmering lightly around his neck. 

‘Oh, thank you.’ Ben stammered. ‘You can touch it if you’d like.’ He said holding it up to the light. You saw there was a neat tag with his name engraved attached. You delicately played with the chain, bringing your face close to his. ‘It’s gorgeous.’ 

He smiled. ‘You free for drinks after work?’ He asked. 

You jumped down from the table where you were intercepted by Reid who threw his arm over your shoulders, which was a lot more contact than you were used too. However, you felt yourself relax into his touch. 

‘We don’t drink on the job Officer.’ Spencer said with more ferocity in his tone that usual. 

‘C’mon Y/N I’ve made progress on the profile.’ he said, steering you away. 

‘What was that about?’ You giggle once you’re both back in the conference room and Reid had let go of you. 

‘Did you see the way that cop was looking at you?’ He hissed. 

‘Was it like how you’re looking at me now? Because that’s kinda hot.’ You joke, cocking your head. But Spencer’s being completely serious when he pushes you up against the wall, hands by either side of your head. 

‘Will you come get drinks with me tonight?’ He asked gruffly. 

‘I thought you said, we don’t drink on the job officer? And I’m not even the one with the eidetic memory.’ You lean in closer so you and Spence’s nose’s are almost touching. Luke burst through the conference room doors causing you and Reid to quickly pull away, Spencer almost tripping in his urgency to escape. Luke spun around wordlessly closing the door behind him. He re-entered seconds later. 

‘Hi guys. Tara and I are back from the morgue.’ He said letting Tara in. 

‘The unsub is killing low risk victims who are highly intoxicated.’ Tara added, glancing at you and Reid with raised eyebrows. Prentiss and JJ came back from the crime scene just as Rossi and Matt finished interviewing the victim’s family. 

‘Okay guys.’ Prentiss began. ‘Garcia has narrowed down the local bars in the Unsub’s hunting zone. I’ve decided we need to send an agent in undercover.’ She looked over at you. ‘Y/N? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’ She reassured. 

‘Of course I can.’ You say confidently. ‘Whatever it takes to catch this son-unsub.’ You quickly correct yourself.

‘Spence will be there with you, Luke and Tara will be shadowing you guys from a bit of a distance. Rossi, JJ and I will be outside in an undercover van.’ 

...

‘See anyone?’ JJ asks into your ear. You shake your head, trying not to glance up at the security camera. ‘Hi!’ Spencer says brightly, approaching you. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ 

‘Yes please.’ You reply with a smile. The bartender whips up four shots of water. You quickly down them along with a glass of ‘spirits’. Reid doesn’t match you, as you begin to act more and more intoxicated, swaying dangerously, trying to dance with Reid, who hesitantly moves along, acting as the non-complicit boyfriend. You leant into his chest as you danced. 

‘Was this your idea of drinks?’ You say with a giggle. 

Reid was quiet for a little as the music boomed around you. 

‘No, but I don’t mind dancing with you.’ He said gently looping his arms around you. You smiled, looking up at him.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He confirmed smiling back at you. 

The purple lights shaded his face so that shadows leaped out of his sharp features making him look like some kind of Greek God. His eyes were so soft that you felt like they were pulling you in. You stood up on your tippy-toes and kissed him. You felt his soft lips canvas yours as he pulled you closer, your hands in his hair. You finally pulled away for air, Spencer looking shocked. ‘I’ll head to the bathroom now.’ He whispered, pulling away, leaving you alone, vulnerable. You knew the unsub would approach you at any time now. You stumbled drunkenly back over to the bar where you requested more ‘shots’. Slumping onto a bar stool you began to drink when a handsome young man approached you, his hands in the pockets of a black hoodie. He sat beside you and ordered a drink. You noted how he didn’t touch it, instead glancing over at you in your sparkly mini dress. 

‘How are you little lady?’ He asked, in the belittling manner you had expected from a classic misogynist. 

‘I’m fi-ne.’ You slurred with a lopsided smile, looking at him with lidded eyes. 

‘Here alone?’ He asked, stirring his drink with the mini umbrella.

‘My boyfriend’s in the bathroom.’ You reply, taking another sip from your drink. The man grabs your thigh holding you in place. You almost jumped, forgetting you were supposed to be drunk for a moment. 

‘I think I’m going to go have a smoke.’ You say, using the prearranged code word and trying to slip out his grasp. 

‘Hey. Don’t move.’ Something bulged in his pocket. ‘I know you Agent Y/L/N.’ He spat. ‘You were on the news, a couple of years ago. And if you don’t do as I say you’ll be on the news for a different reason.’ 

‘Hey. You’re surrounded. What are you gonna do? Kill me then be killed?’ You ask.

‘Wrong.’ He says smugly, pulling you into his chest so you shielded him from Luke and Tara who had drawn their weapons while ushering everyone outside. 

‘I’m not willing to negotiate. Let me and Agent Y/L/N and I leave the premises or I shoot her.’ 

Luke and Tara looked to each other, unsure how to proceed. Suddenly, there was a gunshot in the bathroom. 

‘Reid!’ You scream. Tara nods at Luke who rushes inside the bathroom, leaving you Tara and the unsub alone. JJ enters behind Tara, her gun in its holster. ‘Thomas Jacobs, let Y/N go. This can’t end well for you unless you do.’ 

Thomas begins dragging you towards the back exit. ‘So long team.’ He says with a smile. The door is pushed open by another man who is also holding a gun which is aimed at the team. You hadn’t profiled a partner, it didn’t make sense at all. Nothing in the profile suggested an accomplice. You were thrown into the back of a van which careened away, sirens following closely behind. The van stopped and you almost cried as you heard sirens continue past you. The doors opened again, and you were faced with the unsub and his partner. 

‘I did what you asked.’ Thomas growled. 

‘Tie her up.’ The partner demanded. Thomas complied. 

‘Now put her in the back of the van.’ Thomas dragged you over the the back of a van where he roughly threw you in, locking you into the darkness. There was a gunshot outside, and you grimaced. 

‘Y/N?’ A weak voice asked. 

You squinted into the darkness making out the silhouette of a man slouched in the back of the van. 

‘Spence?’ You ask. You scrabble over to him. ‘Are you okay?’

He nods. ‘They- injected me with something.’ He said with panic. 

‘It’s okay Reid. You’re awake now.’ You try and reassure him. You can hear his breathing pick up. You desperately want to hug him, but your arms are tied back so you just lean against him as the van wobbles and shakes.

‘Breathe with me please?’ You request, taking slow deep breaths. 

You breath peacefully together. The van stops and you turn to face Spencer as the doors open, and you’re pulled away. You struggle in your captor’s arms but your restricted movement makes it impossible to escape. 

‘Y/N!’ Reid yells from the van before he’s pulled out and thrown down next to you. The unsub pulls out two chairs and seats you in them, laughing cruelly when you try and bite him. ‘It seems someone wants to speak to you.’ The unsub says, walking away. You look around the warehouse, looking for a way to escape until another man walks into the room. 

‘Hello agents.’ He snarls.

You both stare at him blankly. 

‘You’re here because your team took someone from me.’ 

You laugh. ‘You might have to be a little more specific.’ 

He turns to face you, his face twisted with rage. He storms towards you.

‘Specific?’ He grabs your face roughly so you’re forced to look up at him. 

‘Get your hands off her.’ Reid seethes, thrashing in his seat. 

‘I hope your team remembers my brother, Mr Scratch? You’re the reason why he’s dead.’  

‘Mr Scratch didn’t have a brother.’ You say, looking into Reid’s eyes, watching as his hands fiddled with the knot behind him. 

‘Not by blood.’ The unsub said. ‘I’m here to finish what Peter started. Now where is Hotchner.’ 

‘I don’t know.’ You say honestly. 

‘Oh I know you don’t.’ The unsub replied. ‘But he does.’ He gestured at Reid, pulling his revolver out from his pocket. He emptied out every bullet but one, and aimed it at your head. 

‘Tell me where agent Hotchner is.’ He demanded, facing Reid. 

‘Don’t!’ You say, earning a blow to the head which left you reeling. 

‘You touch her again I will kill you.’ Reid’s tone is lower than you’ve ever heard it.

The unsub just laughed. ‘Would you take a bullet for Doctor Reid?’ He asked. 

‘I’d do anything for you.’ You say, looking directly at Reid as the unsub pulls the trigger. You don’t even flinch. Reid nods at you, and you flip yourself, chair and all, into the unsub knocking him to the floor. Reid, who had been untying himself the entire time, ran over, holding the unsub down and tying him up with his own rope. Reid quickly untied you and reloaded his gun, aiming it at his head. 

‘Reid.’ You whisper. ‘Don’t do this.’

His hands shook as he looked over at you. ‘I don’t know if I can.’ He said. You stepped in front of him, holding his hand in yours, looking up into his eyes. 

‘Spence.’ Your voice shook. ‘You’ll never forgive yourself.’

He turned off the safety. 

‘I’ll never forgive you.’ 

He lowered the gun. You grabbed him, holding him close to you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he sobbed into your shoulder. Your tears were smothered by his vest. The locked warehouse door burst open as SWAT and the BAU entered, the team heading straight to you and Reid. ‘Are you okay?’ Prentiss asked as Matt yelled for the Medics to come over. You nodded, you and Reid hesitantly moving apart. The medics worked on the cut on your head, but the whole time your eyes never left Reid. You tried to convince yourself that the infatuation building inside of you was just the trauma, but deep down you knew you had loved him ever since you had met him on your first day at the BAU. 

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[lihikainanea]

27 for the Xmas prompts would be so cute!

**Happy Christmas, friends! I’m doing the 25 days of Christmas with Bill and tiger, so go on and send me a prompt from the list, or any list, or make up your own–to read about all the troubles these two morons can find themselves in during the holiday season

Day 1/ Day 2/ Day 3/Day 4/ Day 5/ Day 6

27. “Are you trying to find your present?”

(BECAUSE WHO DOESN’T LOVE A LITTLE CHRISTMAS SMUT?)***

It had to be in here. Teetering on your tippy toes on a stool, you reached blindly into the furthest corner of his closet and patted around. Steadying yourself when you wobbled, you reached further still and craned your neck up to try and see something.

It was like this every year. Bill was always excellent at giving gifts, and you were always terrible at trying to tame your curiosity. Every year you ransacked his place, searching high and low for whatever he got you that you would no doubt love, and every year he found more creative places to hide it in. He knew you would never change, he knew that starting December 1st every time he left to run errands, you’d search the place like a CIA agent. But Bill had grown up hiding a lot of things from a lot of siblings, and he knew a thing or two about creative distraction.

Last year, he had hid your gift at your own apartment. You were both appalled and overcome with extreme feelings of betrayal when he told you. The year before, he wrapped dummy gifts and stashed them all around his apartment—ones that, after undoing 8 layers of wrapping paper, held notes like “nice try, kid” and “seriously, fucking stop it tiger.”

You hadn’t once found your gift, but it did little to quell your need to try. So while he was busy in his office on a conference call with a casting director, you set to work. You had at least an hour, and could get away with making just a little noise that he wouldn’t notice. You searched his drawers, scoured under his bed before grabbing a step stool and checking the top shelf of his closet. But then another idea hit you—Bill would expect you to look up high, he would expect you to think that he would pick a pot somewhere that you couldn’t reach.

Which is precisely why, you thought, he didn’t pick it. Low. He had to go low—because it was obvious, because you COULD reach, and because you would never expect him to hide it in plain sight. Hopping off the stool, you dropped to your knees and crawled halfway into his closet. You reached through his clothes, patted at the back, checked all of his shoes. You were just reaching into the furthest corner at the bottom, arching your back to get a better angle, when a heavy hand landed firmly on your backside. You shrieked at the sting, jumping in surprise before going still.

“Tiger,” his voice was firm and you shrank a little. There was no way you could play this off.

“Come on out, kid.”

You didn’t move, still trying to figure out an escape plan. 

“I’m going to count to three, kid,” he warned. You still remained like a statue, wracking your brain to figure out a way out of this.

“1….2….” He paused, giving you the courtesy of an extra long second, “3.”

But then your time ran out and a strong hand grabbed the back of your waistband, sliding you out in one swift movement. You slowly turned on your knees to face him, sheepish at having been caught, and avoided the glare that you could feel. You started to stand, but his hand pushing down on your shoulder stopped you.

“Oh no no,” he tutted, “You can just go ahead and stay on your knees for me, kid.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and it earned you a flick on the nose.

“Tiger, are you trying to find your present?”

You stared at his feet, and shook your head.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped up, and it was exactly the image you expected to see. Bill glaring down at you, his shoulders square, his arms crossed in front of him authoritatively. He quirked a brow at you before slowly leaning down until his face was inches from yours.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he said lowly, “Were you looking for your present?”

“Yes,” you admitted, and you had the decency to be a bit embarrassed.

“Mmhmm. And is that breaking the rules?” You could feel his soft breath on your face as he ran the tip of his nose along yours. His words were gentle but still held the delicious thrill of a threat underneath. You shivered.

“Yes,” you mumbled again. He hummed in agreement.

“Up,” he commanded, and he tapped your nose in warning when you took a second too long to react. You shakily got your legs under you, standing slowly as you looked up at him.

“Hands,” he motioned at you with two fingers and you tentatively held your hands out in front of you. Reaching into his back pocket, you stared at him confused as he pulled out a long strip of tinsel. He quickly bound your hands at the wrists.

“This is some weird Buddy the Elf kinky shit,” you murmured, but you snapped your mouth shut at his glare.

“Keep talking kid,” he leaned in closer, “I dare you.”

He took a step forward, backing you up before lifting your arms and looping your bound wrists over the hook in the door. You gulped, staring at him with wide eyes as he trailed his hands down your sides.

“This okay?” He checked, brushing his lips against yours.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He smiled briefly before biting your bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth. You craned your neck up for a kiss but then he was gone, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“What happens when you break the rules, kid?” he undid the button of your jeans, pulling down the zipper before sliding the fabric down your legs. He ran his nose from between your thighs up to your belly button, inhaling deeply as you squirmed. When you took too long to answer, he nipped at the soft skin above your underwear and you winced.

“I get….punished?” You sighed as you felt his hot breath on you, your words lacking conviction because this…this didn’t seem like his usual punishment.

“That’s right,” he confirmed. He kissed you through your panties and you gasped, leaning your head back against the wall as his hands pulled the garment down. He helped you step out of them before pushing your feet further apart, settling more on his knees as his warm hands glided up your thighs.

“Bad girls who break the rules end up on the naughty list. You wouldn’t want to be there, would you tiger?” He kissed your mound softly, making his way to the top of your slit as his hands grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling your legs more open.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “Feels like a pretty good place, to me.”

He hummed before he brought his mouth down, licking a slow stripe up your slit. You moaned and he slid his tongue between your folds, licking softly at your clit. Reaching a hand to your front, he used his fingers to gently spread you open and pressed a soft kiss to your bud.

“Bill,” you groaned, gasping when his tongue flicked over you, “I can’t…I can’t stay standing for this.”

“You will,” he said, rolling his tongue over your entire slit again. He licked at your clit, his tongue warm and wet as he glided over it before taking it between his lips. He sucked gently at it as your knees buckled, pursing his lips tightly around it before letting it go with a suckling kiss. He moved his mouth further down, licking through your folds as he made his way to your opening. Kissing it, he ran his tongue over it just how you liked before pushing it inside.

“Fuck,” you cursed, and his hand holding you open moved so that his thumb could rub slow circles on your clit as he licked into your entrance.

“Oh god,” you groaned, and his hum in response sent vibrations through you. You craned your neck to look down at him but his eyes were closed, a look of total content on his face.

You could feel the knot in your stomach coiling tighter as he pushed his nose into your folds, inhaling as he ran it up your slit and you moaned when he nudged your clit with it. Taking it between his lips again, he sucked more harshly at it while using his tongue to flick over it. You could feel it building, feel the sweet release so close, and you started to grind against his mouth as much as you could. He moaned again, sending a jolt through your clit as he tugged at it with his lips. And it was on the third time that he rolled his tongue over it firmly, such delicious pressure, that you could feel yourself starting to tip.

Until he pulled away abruptly, looking up at you deviously as he swiped his thumb across his bottom lip.

“Bill,” you whined breathlessly, “What the fuck.”

He stood slowly, taking his time to run his nose along your collarbone, up your neck as he bit down hard on your soft spot, trailing your jawline before hovering over you. You stretched your neck up to keep his gaze as he looked down at you.

“How’s the naughty list feel now, tiger?” His smirk was evil, and you looked at him incredulous.

“You son of a—” 

A harsh smack between your legs, wet and filthy, stopped your sentence dead as you grunted.

“Try me, kid.” He challenged. You glared.

“You can’t just—”

Another smack to your folds, as hard as the first one, and you let out a loud groan.

“You done?” He raised his eyebrows in challenge but you bit your tongue. Sensing your forfeit, he took your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger but his smirk was still evil.

“Nice girls get to finish,” he chastised, “Naughty girls get to stay pent up.”

“I’ll be nice,” you grumbled. He patted your cheek, leaning to lay an exaggerated kiss on your lips.

“Too late,” he said, swiping at his mouth again, “There’s a mandatory 24-hour ban on orgasms for all occupants of the naughty list. Maybe more, if you keep running that smart mouth of yours.”

“You fucking—”

Another smack between your legs, and you slammed them shut. He took a step back from you, pointing at you in warning.

“Tick tock, kid,” he smirked. You glared.

“I’m sure you can figure this out,” he gestured vaguely to your bound hands, “I have another call. Stay out of trouble—or don’t. The choice is yours.”

#christmas #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ooooh!! # 21 again plz and thanks!

Here is Part 2 of a request I had received and written before! You can find part one in the link below:

Part One

Continuation of #21

"No, I want to speak with Hermione Granger. Floor four, her office number is four fifty s- no I dont want to speak with a consulting Healer I want Hermione!"

Harry was currently bent over, yelling into the floocall he had with St Mungos, getting more frustrated than he really should've. Hermione was not only one of the best Healers in the hospital, but was still hounded by people who only wanted to meet her for her part in the war. There were security measures in place for her own protection, which Harry understood, but he needed to see her now.

"Harry," Draco began in a sing-song tone, and Harry whipped his head around quickly. He was currently standing on a stool with one foot, the other kicked upward as if to help him balance or reach, and he had his hands searching the very top of the bookcase he was standing in front of. Harry was pretty sure the only thing up there was dust, but Draco seemed pretty happy. "Harry, look! I found it!"

"You found what, Draco?" Harry asked, also listening with one ear as the nurse explained for the third time why she couldnt just fetch The Hermione Granger. Draco began to wobble on the stool causing Harry to shoot up quickly, racing over and catching Draco as he fell from the stool. Once Draco was safely in his arms, the man began to giggle profusely.

"You- ha- you caught me!" He giggled again, standing before leaning against Harry and placing a hand against his forehead. "Like I was a damsel in distress!"

"You're not exactly a damsel, Draco," Harry mumbled before hearing 'Hello? Sir? Is this a good time?' from the floo. Harry took a deep breath, pulling Draco to sit on the couch before kneeling back down in front of the floo. "No, it's not a good time! That's why I need Hermione Granger!"

"Sir, it's just that-"

"I understand the rules! But I'm Harry Potter, I am her best fucking friend and I have an emergency!"

"Harry, dont you want to know what I've found?" He glanced back quickly to see Draco standing with his hands behind his back, pouting.

"Why do you keep getting up?"

"Sir?"

"Sorry, just, please. Just deliver the message. Immediately. It's an emergency and Harry needs her. I'll be at my house." Harry reached up, pulling the lever closed quickly and huffing loudly. He stood up, turning to see Draco's pout once more. "Of course, I would love to see what you have found, Draco."

Draco's face lit up as he pulled his hands from behind his back, shoving the item forward. He held a black picture frame with dust covering the glass, and Harry took it from him gently, his brow furrowing. Slowly, he wiped the dust from the frame and took in a deep breath.

He took a seat on the couch near him, placing a hand over his mouth as he studied the picture. It must've been one Sirius had when he lived here that had fallen and was forgotten, or was placed there to be out of the way. He watched a loop of all four mauraders, his father, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, all arm in arm. They were smiling and waving to the camera before tackling each other and yelling audioless words at each other. They seemed so happy, and so young. Probably just before their last year of Hogwarts.

"Did I make you sad?" Harry glanced up, only just realizing he felt tear tracks on his cheeks and that Draco was sitting very close next to him. Draco raised a hand and began rubbing his back, a small sad expression on his face. "I didnt want you sad. I wanted you to be happy like I was." Harry blinked a few times before clearing his throat and rubbing at his cheeks to clear them of tears. "That's your dad right?"

"Yeah, that's my dad. I'm not sad, but the way. It's- uh, its happy tears." He watched a bright smile cross Draco's face before the man quickly leaned over and gave Harry a full body hug.

"Harry Potter, I swear to Merlin- if you've harrassed my poor nurse just because you want to complain about your incessant pining- what the fuck?" Hermione was stepping through the floo, speaking before she even fully exited the green flames. Her hair was a mess (or more of a mess than usual), and her clothes were wrinkled as if she just finished another 24 hour work shift at the hospital- and her current facial expression was a mix of tired, surprised, and guilty. "Malfoy is hugging you?"

"Oh! Granger! You look so tired, I think you should get some sleep!" Draco jumped up from the couch, rushing to her and smoothing his hands against her shoulders to smooth out some wrinkles. She looked incredulous, studying him for a moment before looking back at Harry.

"What happened to Malfoy?"

"I think someone put some kind of drug or potion in his coffee. He's been acting-" Harry hesitated, watching as Draco wandered off and picked up a knick knack from the shelf, beginning to play with it. "Well- yeah."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head at him before rushing back over to Draco and plastering on a large smile. "Oh, Draco darling. I don't need sleep, I'm perfectly fine!"

"Oh you're so happy!" Draco cheered, grinning, before hugging her. She held him tightly, leaning in to smell his neck before pushing him away and withdrawing her wand.

"You know what would make me so happy?" Draco widened his eyes, nodding for the response. "Waving my wand around and scanning for people's well being! You know, since I'm a healer and all."

"Of course!" Draco agreed, smiling brightly and setting the knick knack back down.

"May I?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows as her smile calmed a bit, her demeanor shifting more serious.

"Yes, please!" He spread his arms out, grinning as she waved her wand in front of him. Draco suddenly glanced at Harry, smiling wide. "Look Harry! We're having so much fun!"

Harry stood, unable to keep a smile from his face while seeing Draco so happy. "So much fun, Draco." He walked closer as Hermione finished her scan, letting Draco know he could drop his arms. Draco bounced on the balls of his feet like an excited child, and Harry felt a rush of strong affection for the man. He loved seeing Draco so happy, but it hurt knowing that this wasn't actually him. Harry reached forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around Draco and holding him tightly against his chest. Draco responded positively, wrapping his arms around Harry and burying his face into Harry's chest.

"I've found it. It's an overly strong variation of a cheering potion, with added hawthorn." She glanced up at Harry, nodding. "It takes away impulse control, and reverts someone's consciousness to a simple childlike state. He wants to do what makes him happy, and he wants everyone else to be happy too. Though, I'm sure you've figured the symptoms out already."

Harry nodded quickly, moving one hand to make a 'hurry' gesture before replacing his hold on Draco. "Okay so the cure. A spell, a potion? How long will this take? Any long term effects?"

Hermione huffed, waving her wand to dissipate a floating chart and then nodded. "They brewed the potion poorly, and a typical cheering potion can be counteracted with the antidote. We have those on hand at the hospital. I'll run over and grab it and head back immediately. Give me a few minutes."

Hermione immediately left through the floo, and Harry took a deep breath. "Alright, Draco. We'll fix you soon. You'll be okay." He rubbed Draco's back for a moment, but after no response he decides to back up slightly and glance down at Draco. "Did you... want to do something? To like- make you happy?"

"I am happy," Draco mumbled, snuggling closer into Harry's chest. Harry took a deep breath, glancing up and trying to will the heat he felt in his cheeks to calm down.

"Let's go sit, okay?" He heard a mumbled reply and then nodded, pulling Draco over to the couch. Draco snuggled closer into Harry, and Harry found it hard to deny him this. It was only for a little bit anyway, right? Just until Hermione was back with the potion.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing he felt in his chest. Draco's shampoo invaded his senses, making him dizzy, and he held Draco tighter to his chest. He felt butterflies in his stomach and heat in his cheeks, but kept repeatedly telling himself to calm down. Draco would never actually want to do this. Once he was back to normal, everything will be fine.

The floo wooshed again, Hermione stepping out of the flames. She took one look at them, raised an eyebrow, then set the bottle on the mantel and left. Harry sighed, shaking his head before reaching down to pat Draco's shoulder.

"Hey, Draco, I have something I need you to drink." Hatry glanced down, tilting his head when Draco didn't move immediately. "Draco?" He slightly pushed the man, who in return whined loudly and snuggled closer to him.

"I don't want to move! This is the best thing ever!" Draco tightened his hold, and Harry took a deep breath once again.

"Would you please drink it? For me?" Harry waited, and after a moment Draco lifted his head and nodded. "Alright, good. It's on the mantel over there."

"And after I drink it we can do this again?" He asked, pouting slightly. He sighed, smiling softly in return.

"If you still want to, of course." Harry spoke quietly, but Draco heard and smiled brightly, jumping up quickly. He raced to the mantel, taking the shimmering blue potion and uncorking the bottle, downing the whole thing.

It took a few moments, but Harry saw the reaction once the effect wore off. Draco calmed down infinitely, no longer looking like he was about to fall over or tackle someone. His face took on his typical masked expression, and Harry wondered what exactly he was thinking now.

"Thank you for your help," Draco mumbled quietly, placing the bottle down without looking back. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco grabbed a fistful of powder and flooed away immediately.

"Fuck." Harry let his head fall into his hands, clutching his hair between his fingers. "I'm so fucked."

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drabble #auror au #requested

[kaitoujokerscans]

Showdown in the Dark Night! Joker vs Shadow CH2

<2>The Girl with Mysterious Powers

Let's wind time back a little...

Sometime before Shadow fought against the police, another disturbance occurred outside the manor.

"Ice Shot!" shouted a boy, and a bluish-white beam shot from his gun. The beam instantly froze the surrounding grass and stopped the pursuing police in their tracks. The boy watched the scene with satisfaction, letting a carefree smile form on his face. His long and straight blue hair fluttered in the night wind. A long white coat and violet scarf caught the breeze in a similar fashion. The bristled yellow crest of hair above his handsome face completed the look. It was Phantom Thief Spade...!

"Well, how's it going on your end?" Turning around, there was a white shadow fighting the police at a short distance away.

The sharp sound of clanging metal rang out, followed by thuds of men clubbed with the hilt of a sword falling to the ground. In the thick of it was a white, feminine silhouette swinging a sword as if she were dancing. Eventually, once there were no officers left standing around her, the girl lowered her weapon and turned to Spade. "No problem. They were a letdown."

Her long blonde hair was tied into high twintails, and she was cloaked in a white and pink coat. Her gleaming eyes held a diamond-shaped light. Despite her winsome appearance, she effortlessly wielded a large sword in her right hand, soon sheathing it at her hip. It was Phantom Thief Queen...!

"Anyway, you took more time than me. Is it just me, or is your Shot not as accurate as usual?"

"You think so? I didn't think I had any problem... Let's check the map." Spade changed the subject and took out his phone. "Let's see..." A map of the manor showed on the handheld screen.

Fields of all sizes, large and small, were arranged around the Gardens, and each was connected by an intricately schemed path. It was difficult to grasp the entire layout without a map. There was a red blinking dot on it. Spade and Queen were currently in the furthest region of the garden. They were still far from the manor.

"That's pretty distant. This looks like it'll be a harder job than anticipated..."

"Geez, requests from Grandpa are really demanding." As Queen complained, Spade took a breath and looked up into the dark sky. Yes, it was three days ago that Spade had been called by Queen.

§§§

Spade, Queen, and Joker all had the same master in phantom thievery. Once called "The Silver Magician", he trekked from one city to another and stole treasures from around the world: the legendary great thief, Silver Heart. Each of them had their own circumstances for being taken in by Silver Heart, and they trained under him to learn the fundamentals of phantom thievery. He was like a parent to the three of them, and not only had he taught them techniques for thievery, he also taught them life skills. Even after they had learned enough of the trade from him, Queen still lived with Silver Heart, and Joker and Spade visited on occasion to check up on their master. None of them could very well refuse a request from the master.

When Spade arrived at the hideout at the top of the hill, the first thing out of Queen's mouth was "It's actually quite a problem..."

"It really is," continued Queen's partner, the phantom thief dog Roko. Roko was a super dog bred through genetic research and could both speak and understand human language. He also lived in Silver Heart's hideout along with Queen.

"You know how Joker and Shadow sent out notices?"

"Yeah, for the Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum housed at the Cape Gardens, correct? I didn't think Joker would be interested in it, but if Shadow's going after the same thing, that would explain it. The two are probably fighting like kids over it." Spade smiled wearily.

Spade usually had his own juvenile conflicts with Joker too, but Queen avoided mentioning it. "Well, about that... apparently Grandpa has his eye on Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum too."

"What?" Spade asked.

A door banged open from further inside. "Spaaaaade...... pleaaaaaaase..." came a miserable moan from their master, Silver Heart, who had just entered the room.

He wore a snowy white double-breasted suit, completed with a white silk hat and white cape. Well-polished gold buttons and pink cuffs poking out from under the sleeves accented the look. He sported an impressive silvery beard, and an antique monocle shone over his left eye. It was the fabulous, elegant figure of phantom thief Silver Heart!

...That was the intent, at least, but the reality was a little different.

While his attire was flawless, the Silver Magician was lying down with his stomach pressed against a swiveling stool, using his hands and knees to slowly propel the wobbly wheels.

Spade sighed at the sight. "Master, your back...?"

Silver Heart had a chronic trick back. "Ughh... that's it. I picked up something while cleaning and it was lighter than I thought. That's when I cracked it terribly."

"Argh, this is because you tried cleaning on your own. If you had just asked, I'd have had Roko help."

"What, just me again?" whined Roko. Queen was no good at any household chores.

"Master, why do you want Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum?"

"Well, you see..." Silver Heart hesitated and glanced at Queen.

Queen sighed and spoke for him. "He promised the queen he'd give her Komachi's Gilded Chrysanthemum."

"You mean the queen of that country on the cliffs? Master's girlfriend, that one?"

"That's right. He wanted to show off and told her 'I'll bring you a flower hairpin beautiful enough for you.'"

"That makes sense."

"So he wants me to go steal it in his place. Grandpa's in this state, after all."

"Sorry..." Silver Heart let out a pitiful groan, nodding his head.

"Hm, a treasure that both Joker and Shadow are after, huh..." Spade folded his arms and thought. "Sounds fun, let's go."

"Kyo kyo." Spade's assistant Dark Eye, who had been listening off to the side, cackled in surprise. Tall and slim, Dark Eye leaned their bandage-wrapped face into Spade's ear. "But Spade-sama, you just finished a major job. If you don't rest your body for the next three days, your temperature will..."

"It's all right, Dark Eye. I'll be working with Queen this time. Besides, it's a chance to show up Joker and Shadow." Spade grinned. It was a smile just as childish as Joker and Shadow were.

§§§

However...

Spade rubbed his eyes as he ran through the garden. To tell the truth, his condition had gotten worse since last night. He had lied about it up to this point, but the exhaustion was building up. Queen had seen through him just earlier. I hope I can hold out to the end...

The pair was now past the gardens and approaching the manor. Just then, a call came through on his phone. "You've managed to avoid security so far, but that'll be difficult further along." It was Roko's voice. Roko and Dark Eye were on standby in Spade's airship and handling logistical support.

"Looks like it. How about the security cameras, Dark Eye?"

"Kyo kyo, I've successfully hacked into them."

"Thank you. Keep directing us, please."

"Kyokyo, please wait. Your body..." Dark Eye's worried voice came from the phone.

"It's fine."

"Kyokyo, but Spade-sama, your breath was erratic before you went out. Please do not stress..."

"Enough already, keep watching the cameras."

"Kyokyo... very well."

"I'm counting on you." Spade said brusquely and took a breath. Really, what a worrywart. Of course, he knew Dark Eye was looking out for him. Even so, Spade didn't want to be handled with kid gloves. I'm all right... "Okay Queen, let's go." But when he looked up, Queen was concealing herself against a hedge and peering into the garden. "What's up?" He approached and asked, only to be shushed and told to crouch down by Queen with her finger against her mouth. "Take a look at that."

Spade stooped down besides Queen and looked to where she was watching. There was an agitated silhouette at the edge of a large pond with fountain. "Isn't that..."

A pretty young girl's face bobbed out of a thicket. Her pink hair was tied into two buns, and she wore a red-violet jumper skirt over a purple blouse, a white petticoat sticking out from underneath. A yellow ribbon hung at the neck of her blouse, and the expression on her face as she glanced around the area suggested she was still unworldly. The girl's name was Rose. She was Shadow's younger twin sister. She always worked with Shadow, but she seemed to be alone today. Rose bit her lip slightly and focused her sights on the manor.

"What's up with Rose...?" mused Queen. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the deafening sound of an explosion followed by the sound of something crumbling apart came from the manor.

"...!" Rose jumped out of the thicket in surprise. She apparently tripped a security sensor when she did. The wee-oo of sirens filled the area, and searchlights zeroed in on Rose at once. The nearby officers on patrol ran to the scene. Leading them were Ginko and Momo.

"Hold it right there, Shadow! Wait, Joker... it's not him either!?"

"A girl...!?"

The pair was perplexed by Rose's appearance. While Shadow had made a name for himself as a phantom thief, Rose was apparently still a no-name.

Then Oniyama's voice came over the radio. "Ginko-chan, Momo-chan, so arrest all suspicious persons around the manor!"

"Roger, Inspector!" Ginko responded and looked towards Rose again.

Meanwhile, still hidden against the hedge, Spade asked. "What shall we do? Do we help?" But Queen wordlessly shook her head. It was as if she was saying "no need". The reason was quickly gleaned.

"You're under arrest!"

"Get her!"

At their order, the police immediately charged toward Rose. Beside Ginko, Momo leapt high into the air. Momo was a former SAT (special assault team) member and an expert in combat martial arts. The average police officer was nothing compared to her. Powerful Momo brandished a tonfa-like weapon and closed in on Rose! But just as Rose seemed to be shaking her head to and fro with an expression of futility, she calmly raised her right hand towards the officers and abruptly opened her eyes. Grrrrip...! The air trembled with a heavy shockwave, reaching all the way to Spade and Queen some distance away. The next moment, Momo and the other officers around Rose were stopped in their tracks.

This was Rose's ability. By concentrating and channeling the power from her body into her hand, she could stop a target from moving. Spade and Queen had both experienced it before. It was like being trapped in a hunk of iron, unable to move a finger. Though the mind was clear, the body was paralyzed stiff. Momo and Ginko had no idea of what happened, and despite being frozen, their confusion was obvious. Rose kept focusing her power and was about to leave the scene, but then-- "Who's that out there!"

Glancing up at the veranda of the third floor, there was Hayami gazing down towards them. "Is that... Hayami Kyoutarou?" Spade asked.

He heard Rose, who had looked up at the same time, whisper his name as well. "Hayami-san..." Right after, the energy active on Momo and the rest wore off. Rose had lost concentration.

"Hrm? Aren't ya...?" Hayami seemed to have noticed her as well, but the area was too dark to see any faces.

The police took the opportunity and charged at Rose. "Catch her!" Momo bounded into the air and plunged toward Rose, who was standing absentmindedly. Her tonfa swung down. But before the tonfa could connect, it was halted with a clang. "Wha!?"

"Ghh...!" Queen had cut in between the two of them. She grit her teeth with effort and pushed back Momo's tonfa.

Though Momo pressed forward, the tonfa wouldn't go any further. "Kghhgh... you're here, Phantom Thief Queen!"

"You're not bad if my sword can't cut through." Queen and Momo put their weight into their weapons and were locked sword-to-tonfa. Their strength was equal, and Queen was unable to step away. "Spade!"

"Yes, I know!" Spade made a fabulous jump and landed on the fountain spout. The water sprinkled out around the area. "Ice Shot!" Spade shot his cooling beam at the shower, freezing the spray and making icy precipitation rain down on Ginko, Momo, and the other officers.

"Eeyah!"

"Owowow!"

While the officers flailed, Spade blew up a large bubble of gum above him and grabbed hold of Rose. The gum is called "Balloon Gum", and is one of the phantom thief tools employed by Joker, Spade, and Queen. By chewing the gum and blowing into it, the gum’s ingredients chemically react to form a gas lighter than air. If held above one's head, it can lift up a certain amount of weight off the ground, much like an ad balloon.

"Eek!" Rose let out a low squeak as Spade continued to rise. Queen followed suit and took into the air.

"Hold it! Spade, Queen!"

"Another time, my fellows! Adios!" Once he finished speaking, he disappeared from sight.

"W- he's gone...!?" The officers searched around in confusion, but the only thing left was the darkness of night.

#kaitou joker #light novel

[cricket-scribbles]

Secrets and Confessions - Clawen

Rating: T for language, alcohol use Word count: 1.8k Summary: Before they ever dated, Claire was on Owen’s radar. When he gets drunk off of his ass, she is the one he relies on to take him home. And he says more than a few things she will never forget.

Masterlist

When Claire got the call, she was wrapping up last minute paperwork for the day, her office quiet, the park emptied of visitors.

“Is this Claire Dearing?” an unfamiliar male voice said.

“Yes. May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

“It’s Scott. I’m the bar tender at the Jungle Barrel. Owen said to call you.”

Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “He did?”

“Yeah. He’s...he’s in pretty bad shape. He can’t drive himself home tonight. Wouldn’t be good.”

Claire flicked her pen onto the desk. “You mean he’s drunk.”

“As a skunk.” 

She hissed a breath through her teeth with annoyance and leaned back in her chair.

“And why didn’t he contact any of his other buddies?” Claire said.

A pause settled over the phone.

“Scott?” Claire said. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just...I’ve known Owen a while. He doesn’t let his guard down around people very often. So when I asked him if he had someone to drive him home, he mentioned your name. Not anybody else. Only you. I don’t know where his other buddies are but your name was at the top of his contacts list on his phone. Must be pretty important to him.”

Claire blinked, surprised at that.

“I’m on my way,” she said.

***

She found Owen at the bar, his chin propped in his hand, swaying in his seat. 

“Owen,” Claire said. “Time to go home.”

Owen straightened and turned. And something in his eyes shifted. Almost brightened. But as quickly as it appeared, it was shuttered away. 

Claire took him by the arm, pulling him off of the stool.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Owen’s feet thudded to the floor and he leaned too heavily on her shoulder. Claire was sure they would collapse right there in the middle of the bar, just folded up in a heap of tangled limbs, her crushed beneath him. He was so damn heavy. 

But he managed to stay on his feet and shuffled out to her car.

“If you puke in my car,” she said, pointing at him. “You will pay to have it cleaned.”

He saluted. “Yes ma’am.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, studying him. Owen tipped his head back to look up at her and smiled, sloppy and lop-sided and far too charming for his own good, damn it. 

Satisfied that he seemed to be holding steady and he wasn’t about to be sick in her car, Claire closed the door. Not anywhere near forcefully but Owen flinched anyway at the noise.

Claire climbed into the driver’s seat and that’s when she heard Owen humming.

Then he actually started singing.

Barely audible, low and off key under his breath. But the words were distinctive enough to leave no doubt what he was saying.

Claire froze, wide eyed, staring out the windshield. She didn’t dare look at him for fear that he would stop.

Settle down with me And I’ll be your safety You’ll be my lady I was made to keep your body warm.

Claire stole a glance at Owen out of the corner of her eye. He had his head turned away from her, one hand tapping a sketchy beat on top of his thigh. Then the tune faded, the words fell away, and Claire thought that was the last of the song.

Instead, he was merely switching to different lyrics.

I believe in miracles Where you from, you sexy thing?

Claire rolled her eyes and put the car in reverse so suddenly that Owen’s head snapped forward and the lyrics came to an abrupt stop.

By the time Claire pulled up outside of Owen’s trailer-bungalow, his chin was tipped forward on his chest and he was snoring slightly. Claire shook his shoulder and his head wobbled.

“Owen,” Claire half shouted. “Owen, we’re here. Wake up.”

She received a louder snore in response. Claire sighed and climbed out of the car, yanked open his door. He nearly tumbled out. She wedged her body under his shoulder and patted his face. But when he still didn’t wake up, she practically slapped him.

Owen startled, blinking. Then he glanced down at her and draped an arm over her shoulder.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his words slurred and running together. “Should take you home.” Then he added softly, “Maybe...kiss you good night?” 

Posed as a question, a lilt of hope at the end, as if he wasn’t the confident ex-soldier who could win over any woman he wanted with a smile and a wink.

“You need some sleep first,” Claire replied. 

Owen stumbled out of the car, weaving on his feet. He put a hand on Claire’s hip to steady himself as they made their way up the steps. Claire tried the door handle but it wouldn’t budge.

“Key?” she said, holding out her hand.

Owen slowly patted his vest pockets. Claire, quickly growing impatient, brushed his hands aside and rummaged through his pockets. He raised his hands in the air.

“Shouldn’t we be...you know...inside?” he said. “Before you start doing that? I mean, not that...I’m not...complaining or anything.”

No keys. That left the pockets of his pants.

And she was not going there.

Claire gestured at his pants.

“Check your pockets please,” she said.

Owen pressed his eyes closed. He tipped forward on his toes and Claire was sure he was going down, right there on the porch steps. Her hand shot out, braced in the middle of his chest, hoping it was enough to keep him upright for a minute longer.

Claire gritted her teeth. Propriety be damned.

She plunged her hand into the left pocket of his jeans, trying to ignore the burn of his body heat through the denim. 

Nothing.

Owen’s knees buckled, sinking towards the floor. Claire flung his arm over her shoulder.

“No, no, no,” she said. “Don’t pass out on me yet.”

Owen’s forehead dropped to the top of Claire’s head, his nose buried in her hair.

“You always...smell so good,” he muttered under his breath. “Sweet. Like...jasmine.”

Claire shook her head. Drunk Owen was a very different man than the Owen she dealt with on a daily basis. She steeled herself and stuck her hand in his right pocket. Her fingers brushed metal at last and she snatched the keys out.

Struggling to balance Owen’s weight and get the keys in the lock, Claire finally managed to push the door open.

“All right, get inside,” she said.

But Owen’s boot caught on the threshold. Claire caught him, her arms around his middle. His mouth grazed her temple and the weight of him pressed against her, pinning her against the door jamb. Claire’s pulse picked up with her view of his throat, the collar of his shirt gaping open. All she needed to do was lean in and her lips could brush the curve of his collar bones, follow the line of his neck to his ear...

“Couch,” Owen mumbled. “Just...need the couch.”

Claire angled him towards the couch on the right, eager for a distraction from her wandering thoughts. Owen dropped on his back with a groan. She tucked his feet up on the cushion as best she could - it was a tight fit for a man of his size.

As Claire reached over him for the blanket on the back of the couch, Owen brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

Claire flinched in surprise. Her gaze darted down to find him looking up at her, his eyes hazy.

“Pretty,” he said. “Never...told you...that. Too chicken to do it.”

Claire’s hands fell away from the blanket, her head tilted to the side. Owen Grady was afraid of something? That was certainly new. 

The chances were slim that he would remember anything of this in the morning. But Claire would remember. And she planned to use it to her full advantage as soon as he was conscious.

Owen laughed, rough around the edges with exhaustion. He turned his head aside - an almost shy gesture if Claire didn’t know any better.

“Hell,” he rasped. “you’re goddamn perfect. Don’t know...don’t know what you see in me.”

Claire’s chest tightened to hear him talk like that. He always seemed so cocky and full of himself with his sarcastic quips and snappy comebacks. And she goaded him into it, too. She gave him a hard time just to watch him grind his teeth or smirk or...anything. As long as she had his attention. That’s all she wanted.

“Feels like I’m...” Owen muttered. “Like I don’t deserve....”

Claire leaned forward as he trailed off as if she could chase the drowning of his words and rescue them before they were lost. But they faded anyway as Owen’s eyes closed.

Claire slid her hand up his arm, over his shoulder and stopped above his heart.

“Owen?” she whispered. “What were you going to say?”

His eyes remained closed. Seconds ticked by one after the other and Claire didn’t move. 

Then Owen covered her hand with his palm. His thumb closed around her wrist, just above her pulse, smoothing back and forth.

Claire knelt on the floor beside the couch and stayed there, watching Owen sleep for as long as his hand held hers.

***

In the morning, Claire woke to the scent of coffee. She rubbed her eyes and blinked blearily in the direction of the kitchen, squinting in the too-bright sunlight streaming in from the window.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Owen said. He placed a cup of coffee on the counter and nudged it in her direction.

“There’s sugar if you want it,” he said. “Milk might be bad though. Haven’t checked.”

Claire passed her hands over her face, smoothed her hair down in an effort to make herself presentable. She rubbed at her aching neck with a wince.

Owen caught the gesture, half turned to the stove, poking at a pan of eggs. He abandoned the stove and stepped up behind her. Claire shifted to face him - such an obviously defensive maneuver that Owen held up his hand.

“Just trying to help,” he said.

After a moment, Claire relaxed, her shoulders easing lower. Owen twirled a finger.

“Turn around,” he said.

Grudgingly, Claire relented. He had trusted her last night to see the mess that he’d been. Now she trusted Owen in return to put him at her back, out of her line of sight where she couldn’t see what he was doing, couldn’t read his expressions.

Owen’s hand came up, curved over neck. She stiffened at his skin against hers, the sudden intimacy of it when she had kept him at a distance for so long.

Owen pressed his thumb in deep circles, massaging the sore muscles of her neck. Claire released a low breath and bowed her head.

“That feels really nice,” she whispered.

“If I’d known you were going to spend the night,” he said. “I could have pulled out an extra mattress or something. The floor is far from comfortable.”

Claire waved him off.

“I wasn’t planning on staying. But you were really out of it last night. Didn’t think it was a good idea to leave you alone. Although it seems you have everything under control now.”

Claire swept her hair up, granting Owen access to the rest of her neck as encouragement to go a little higher. His hand completely settled in the curve of her neck, comfortable with the permission she had freely given him.

She leaned into the counter, tension melting away. She could feel Owen shift closer, his breath sweeping along the exposed skin of her neck. 

A shiver rippled up her back and she inched to the side. Owen’s hand dropped. Claire bit the inside of her cheek to prevent any noise of disappointment from escaping at the loss of contact.

“You’re about to burn your eggs,” she said, putting her back to the counter, Owen at her front again.

“Shit,” Owen hissed, rushing to the stove, scrambling to get the pan onto the counter.

Claire picked up her coffee cup, wrapped her fingers around the heat of it, trying to forget how warm Owen’s hand had been against her skin.

“Sorry about the whole drunk thing,” Owen said over his shoulder. “Thanks for driving me home. I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome.”

A pause settled over the kitchen. This was about the time that Claire would wield the embarrassing information she had gathered last night and use it against him. The off key singing, the confessions, the fact that she was number one on his contacts list.

But Claire couldn’t bring herself to mention any of it. Last night felt dream-like, as if it wasn’t real, as if it hadn’t really happened. If she spoke about it, the illusion might shatter. And she wanted to keep it to herself, keep it whole for as long as she could.

“So,” Owen said slowly, scraping eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. “Did I...say anything last night?”

Claire flicked her gaze over the rim of her cup at him.

“Like what?” she said.

He shrugged, sliding a plate towards her.

“I was drunk,” he said. “Typically entails embarrassing things. Strange behavior. Karaoke. Dancing naked on tables.”

Claire snorted a laugh into her coffee. “Believe me, if that happened, I would have video evidence.”

“Does that mean the coast is clear?”

Claire held his gaze for a moment.

You said I was pretty.

You said you couldn’t understand what I see in you.

You left something unfinished and I know you’ll never tell me now.

In the end, she simply said, “You snored. Very loudly.”

And the rest of it, she kept for herself. As Owen dug into his eggs, standing at the counter beside her, Claire’s hand slipped around to the small of his back. Her little finger wormed its way into the belt loop at his hip. If he asked her out now, after everything he’d said last night...well...she wouldn’t say no.

Owen glanced at her, eyebrows raised at the voluntary contact she had initiated all on her own. He reached out and brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, his knuckles grazing her chin for a brief moment.

“You had a little egg there,” he said.

“Oh,” Claire said with a knowing smile.

She hadn’t touched her eggs yet. But she would keep that a secret too. 

#clawen #jurassic world #fallen kingdom #cricket ficlets #claire dearing #owen grady

[alchemistc]

walk together with our hands up in the sky

an: title is from “two high” by moon taxi

spoilers through 1x13 of the punisher

He’s standing in her office, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a head of curly hair piled high on his head, and he’s laughing at something Rachel from sports is saying, his lips stretched wide, his teeth a burst of white against the sunlight shining through the window, and it’s been three months and he’s still a wanted man and all Karen can think is oh thank god.

He glances up, catches her eye, and Karen’s breath catches in her throat. She’s seen him beaten, tired, hiding, terrified and bloody and angry, she’s seen him fight a smile and talk of the terrible greatness of love, but she’s never seen him like this, not a visible scratch or bruise and not even trying to hide how happy he is to see her.

Karen hefts her bag higher on her shoulder, regrets it as she watches the way his eyes dart towards it, a new one without a nice big bullet hole through the bottom of it, regrets the flicker of momentary hurt and confusion it causes as he watches her walk towards him. 

Frank, she thinks, doesn’t say aloud because the city thinks he’s run off, or he’s underground, or he’s dead and someone buried the story. (Maybe that had just been Karen.)

Her laugh turns to half sob and she can feel his breath on her ear, his pulse under the hand she’s got wrapped around his neck, the warmth of his hand at her back, and they stand like that for too long, long enough that when Karen finally disentangles herself and shoots a glance at Rachel the other woman is carefully not making eye contact, focused far too carefully on her notes to be paying any attention at all to them.

“Surprise,” he says, wry grin on his face, and Karen fights the urge to press her fingers into the visible laugh lines, to wrap him back into her and never let go.

“What...” There’s no good way to ask the question with an audience, especially one as intent as theirs, still carefully staring at the same section of notes she’d been studying a minute ago.

“Figured I’d let you know I hadn’t bought the farm.” She rolls her tongue over her teeth and has to close her eyes to keep from shooting a look at Rachel, but he’s sold it, the ironic ring in his voice and the roll of his shoulders playing it off like a joke between two people who haven’t spoken in a while.

“Coffee?” she asks, because she doesn’t want to be near him for another second with watchful eyes on them and because her office is suddenly stifling in his presence and he is alive and smiling at her as he nods his head.

She leaves the flowers, ignores Rachel’s voice when she calls out “It was nice to meet you, Pete!”, notes his proximity as he falls into step beside her, waits until they’ve turned the corner and are out of sight of the office before she presses her shoulder into his just to feel him press back.

“This is a new look for you, Pete.”

He laughs. It’s one of those dorky, too high laughs, almost a giggle for the way it makes her momentarily forget what he sounds like yelling, and knocks his elbow against hers. “Hipster wasn’t working for me, I figured I’d give the Tony Stark a try.”

“It’s...not a terrible look,” she tells him, and then darts her gaze to the ground, feeling her cheeks go red. “You look good, Frank.”

He coughs to cover up the awkward silence, and Karen thinks of his forehead pressed to hers, thinks of the things they never have to say, wishes she could just say what she wants to and not have to worry about the consequences. Thinks “You’re important to me, Frank.” and hopes the gentle brush of her pinky along the side of his hand gets the point across.

They go to a greasy diner down the block, sliding into opposite sides of a booth, and Karen drinks him in, ignores the way he does the same and how it makes her chest tight. 

“How have you been?” he asks, and then frowns into the newly poured cup of coffee.

“Did you really come to my office to hand deliver flowers and shoot the shit with me?” 

He blinks, and rolls his tongue over his teeth, a familiar tic in his jaw that Karen thinks suits him. “Yeah.” He nods his head, tilting it just slightly, and god, it’s so fucking familiar, it’s so fucking Frank, and despite how much they’ve come to care for each other, it’s always been hard for her to imagine a world where they’re just...hanging out. No ulterior motive between them. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Frank’s gaze holds steady on her face until the waitress returns with the plate of eggs and sausage he’d ordered, eyes flickering from her face to her jawline, running over her cheeks, and the hair curling over the scar on her forehead from the one scrape that didn’t quite heal properly. “Okay,” he parrots back at her, and Karen barks out a laugh, kicks at his foot under the table, laughs louder when he captures her ankle between his boots and just holds it there. 

“I missed you.” Her voice is whisper soft but he hears her all the same, ducking down towards his plate even as he continues to stare at her beneath the line of his brow. 

“Yeah, me too.”

------

Pete Castiglione is a hit at the office, dropping by with flowers, and a coffee each for Karen and Rachel once a week, evading the ever suspicious Ellison as best he can, arguing with Rachel about the Jets and reminding her after the World Series that the Dodgers were Cap’s team (”Don’t fuckin’ matter that they moved, or that he’s on the lam.) and Karen takes it in stride. 

It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to be alone with her - not really, truly alone, even when Rachel gives Karen the side eye and closes the door behind her when she heads out midday (”I’m taking a long lunch,” she says, with zero subtlety, and Frank stares at his shoes for ten minutes while Karen taps out a few shitty sentences at her keyboard.)

They go to diners, and coffee shops, or they walk along the crowded streets, and Karen tries not to take offense. He’s... healing, trying to deal with his losses, and his life, and Karen wants to be there for him whatever way she can, even if that means she has to ignore the tender looks he’ll shoot between his lashes when he thinks no one is looking.

She starts researching flower meanings, and then laughs at herself in her quiet, dimly lit apartment when they all mean something she’s pretending not to hope for.

She calls him from a dive bar, five drinks in and already dangerously close to drunk, when she finds out Matt is alive.

He’s in her phone as Pete C, and her finger hovers over his name for a good five minutes before she presses dial, but he picks up halfway through the first ring, voice gruff and scratchy like maybe she’s woken him, and before she can hang up the phone, text him something stupid like sorry, butt dial, he says “Karen?” and there’s an edge of fear in his voice that makes her blink away some of the alcohol. 

“Can you come get me?”

It’s a stupid thing to ask, an even more stupid thing to hope for, but she can hear him shuffling around, hear the shift of fabric and the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled, a belt being tightened. “Where are you?” 

She rattles off the crossroads, staring into her empty scotch glass while he hums, and then “Frank, its - I’m okay. I’m not -- I just...”

“I’ll be there soon.”

He saunters into the bar less than ten minutes later, his hair a little wild and his shirt only halfway tucked into his jeans, looking rumpled and concerned and god, there are things she thinks about when she looks at him that she has no place thinking, but she thinks them anyway and he has to know, he has to know.

He slides into the stool next to her and drinks the rest of her half finished beer while he stares at her. “I’m sorry,” she tells him, a little wobbly, definitely a little drunk, and he grimaces. 

“You don’t gotta apologize, c’mon. You don’t gotta do that with me.”

Throat tight and blinking back tears, she nods, and leans into his space, spinning to press her knee into his. It’s a relief, knowing that she could say anything to him and he’d be okay with it. Anything except what she wants to say. You mean something to me, Frank.

He wraps an arm around her waist when she hoists herself from her stool, scoffs when she reaches for her wallet and shakes his head at her with an amused eyeroll as he throws down too much money on the bar, and leads her out to a flashy looking muscle car she can’t decide whether or not to laugh about or scold him for stealing. 

It takes some maneuvering on his part to get her in the bucket seat, and more to get her out when he parks it a block away from her apartment building, Karen going straight from drunk to tired with the rumble of the engine and the Springsteen playing softly from the tape deck.

“Where’d you steal this monstrosity from?” she asks him as he gets an arm under her knees, and selfishly she hopes she seems drunker than she really is. 

“Bought it fair and square, ma’am,” he tells her, a hint of cheek in his voice. “C’mon, I am not carrying you up three flights of goddamn stairs.”

She huffs and rolls her shoulders back, turns her head to assist him in getting her out of his car only to be confronted by the too-close line of his jaw, the broken bend of his nose. 

He’s got two fingers in the backs of the shoes she’d kicked off, and her purse secured under his arm, she’s curled up in the jacket she’d found on the floor of the passenger seat, and it strikes her how very cozy this all is, how very domestic Frank has always been, how unashamed he is with taking care of people.

Karen hums ‘Born to Run’ up the stairs and down her hallway, slightly louder with every step because it seems to both amuse and annoy him and she’s one of maybe three people in the world who finds comfort in the fact that Frank can feel both those things. 

It doesn’t strike her until she’s curled onto her couch with a glass of water in her hand, Frank hovering above her, unsure, that he hasn’t been back to her apartment since he gave her those white roses. 

When she pats the empty space beside her, he falls into it without hesitation, which doesn’t help Karen at all but it’s nice, all the same.

“You wanna tell me what sorrow’s we’re drinkin’ away tonight?”

It’s easier for her to say to him than she’d expected, considering she’s been telling herself all night and it hurts worse each time. “Matt’s alive.”

His sharp glance is another thing Karen pretends not to read into. “It’s been... it’s been a year, you know? We put an empty casket in the ground. We mourned him. We moved on and... and he was my friend, at least, even if the rest of it was a mess.”

The hum, low in his throat, is enough acknowledgement for her to continue. 

“Jesus, Frank, it took less time for you to reach back out, and I told you to your face you were --.” Here she pulls in a shaky breath, scoots her ass against the cushions until she’s facing him. “I’m glad he’s not dead but...”

They sit in silence, for a long time, long enough that Karen finishes up her water, watches him as he quietly stands and reaches for the glass, fingers curled around hers until she relinquishes it and watches him go to refill it.

When he sits back down and places the glass back in her hands, she’s certain he’s closer to her than he was the first time. “You still love him?”

“No.” The look he gives her tells her he doesn’t believe her. “Maybe. Yes. I... he...” He’s important to me, she almost says, but it feels wrong in her mouth. “We always loved parts of each other, you know? The good parts, and we always pretended there were no bad parts. When I was around him, I was always so...” She presses her fingers into her thigh, swallows around a lump in her throat. When she glances back up at Frank he’s holding himself very still. “I was so lonely.”

He blinks back at her, understanding in his gaze. His head bobs: up, down, up, and when she slides her feet across the space between them, tucking her toes under his thigh, his hand curls around her ankles, warm and unwavering. 

“I used to see Maria,” he tells her, head tilted up toward the ceiling. “Flashes of - memory and shit I made up in my head, and she... she was always there when I couldn’t handle my shit.” Karen listens, careful and still. “She was home, you know? Not this country, not New York, not that house we made together. All the pieces of her, all the things that made her Maria, she was...” He’s talked about his family before - it was what had forged that trust between them, what had opened Karen’s eyes to who Frank Castle really was, but this is different, not some anecdote about his life before, this is... “She’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry, Frank.”

“Don’t.” Around the lump in his throat, he swallows and squeezes her ankle. “Don’t be sorry. I... I gotta be okay with that.”

“Are you? Okay with it?”

When he turns to look at her this time, his finger tapping out a rhythm over the top of herr foot, his pursed lips are answer enough even as he searches her gaze. “I’m tryin’ to be.”

------

“Karen,” Foggy says, arms wide as he smiles at her, and Karen darts forward to give him a quick hug. “Karen, who is this Pete guy and when can I meet him?”

Karen shoots a look around Foggy at Rachel, who is carefully not making eye contact, and then glares at the bouquet of irises and daffodils on her desk. “Oh, he’s just - he’s a friend.”

“A friend who’s been bringing flowers by the office and charming your staff for months now? Karen, I hate to break it to you, but dudes aren’t that subtle. And you’re... well, you’re you, aren’t you.”

She distracts him with a story about Daredevil Ellison has assigned her, knowing it’ll rile him up enough for him to excuse himself, and she feels bad about it, she does, she misses Foggy and she wishes it were easier for them to just be like they used to be, but it’s not easy, it’ll never be easy, and despite the fact that the rest of the world can’t seem to recognize Frank Castle because he’s got a goatee, Karen knows it won’t fool Foggy for a second.

She can’t decide whether she’s more terrified of his anger, or of his disapproval. 

When Frank knocks on her door that night she’s so busy thinking of what apologetic text to send Foggy that she barely glances through the peephole before letting the door swing wide, and she’s halfway down the hall when she realizes his footsteps aren’t following after her.

He looks guilty when she turns to look at him, eyes darting up to just above her head, and Karen excuses herself to go put pants on.

He’s adjusting the heat on her burners when she brings it up, stir fry sizzling in the pan as she hikes herself up onto the countertop. “You’ve gotta cut it out with the flowers.”

Back going stiff, he eyes the timer on the oven. “You don’t like ‘em?” His voice is careful and quiet, free of any intonation.

“Of course I like them, Frank, don’t be stupid. But everyone thinks you’re trying to get into my pants and that’s the only reason you bring them. Foggy came by the other day and -.”

“That what you think, Ms. Page? That I’m --?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I know you’re not --.”

He cuts her off, dropping the spoon against the side of the pan, sliding toward her, caging her in with a hand on either side of her legs, fingers stretched wide across the counter. “And what if I was? That’d be ridiculous? Man like me bringin’ flowers to a woman like you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she whispers across the space between them, his breath fanning out over her lips, thumbs sliding hesitantly over the sides of her thighs. “You know it’s not.”

She tries to get closer, to lean down and press her forehead against his, to reach for him, but he’s already gone, nearly knocking into the kitchen island before he spins on his heel. “I gotta go.”

“Frank, don’t --.”

“You take care, yeah?”

He’s gone before Karen has even had time to pull herself off the counter.

------

She signs for the pot of orchids on a Saturday morning a week and a half later, fingers sliding along the delicate petals as she places them on the kitchen island. She doesn’t have to look this one up, not like the others, doesn’t have to yank out the book hidden under her bed, the one filled with pressed flowers on the appropriate pages. 

It’s the longest she’s gone without seeing Frank in months, but it’s nice to know she hasn’t scared him straight back into killing a whole bunch of people and getting himself killed in the process. 

She spends the day staring at crime scene photos of a hit on one of the Gnucci boys, ignoring the growing pit in her stomach and wondering what Ellison would do if she told him she wanted off Crime, wanted to try her hand at the Relationship section. 

She laughs to herself when she thinks of the kind of headlines she’d have. So You’re Dating A Vigilante. How To Tell The Guy You’re Dating Is In Love With A Ninja Assassin. What To Do When You Might Be In Love With a Murderer. How To Help Your Guy Get Over His Murdered Wife. Then she pulls out the flower book and stares at it for a while just to drive herself a little crazy.

She ignores three calls from Matt, and one from Foggy, and pops open a bottle of scotch around 11. 

The funny thing about spending so much time staring at crime scenes the last few years is she’s kind of numb to the gore, so when Frank stumbles into her apartment after kicking the door down, somewhere past midnight, painting her hallway wall red as he slides against it, her first thought is about how much it’s gonna cost her to fix the damn thing.

“We gotta go, Karen,” he says, and he’s beat bloody, one cheek swollen, a gash in his arm. “Karen, we gotta got out of here now.”

She doesn’t really question it. He’ll explain it to her, she knows that much, but there’s an urgency in his voice and his eyes and in the tremble of his bloody knuckles that gets her on her feet in a moment, sliding into her bedroom to gather up her bag and throw on a pair of shoes. 

It’s not until they’re in the safety of a beat up Buick, careening down the highway, the copper stench of blood filling her nostrils, that Frank breaks the silence. 

“Wasn’t sure you were paying attention to the flowers that much,” he says, fingers tap - tap - tapping over the steering wheel. Karen gives him a confused look before she remembers the book open near the photos strewn across her living room floor. 

“I wasn’t sure I was meant to,” she tells him, and he chuffs out a laugh, unfurls a fist from around the wheel and reaches out for her hand, curling it into his own. 

“Gotta work on our communication.”

“Or maybe you could rely less on cryptic Victorian courting rituals.”

Frank hums delightedly, squeezes her hand in his own, and Karen thinks that maybe her world has been rocked so many times that now it just feels like a comfortable shift, like the world tilted on it’s axis but gravity keeps her steady. She wonders when Frank became gravity for her. 

(Sometime after please, but long before spare some change.)

He’s lost enough blood to be a little loopy by the time they get to the safe house nestled in the woods, and he leans heavily into her side, the bulk of him pressed against her while she struggles to get them up the sloping hill. She’s more grateful than surprised when Foggy and Matt both come rushing out of the cabin and down the stairs.

The cabin is almost cozy, an old couch draped with heavy blankets, a fire stove blissfully unlit in the heavy summer heat, gauzy curtains covering the windows, and Karen takes it in as a third man bursts through the door behind her, grumbling about hero types as Matt and Foggy unload Frank onto the couch.

The stranger moves to lean over Frank, a hefty looking first aid kit in his hand, and Foggy and Matt turn to look at her. 

“What the hell is going on?” There’s a tic in Matt’s jaw that Karen can’t figure as she and Foggy both blurt the question out at the same time, but no one answers her, and she’s about to open her mouth to explain the situation when Frank seems to come back to himself somewhat. 

“Fisk. Karen, what does Fisk want with you?”

The room erupts into chaos, and Karen excuses herself to work through the not-terribly-mild panic attack Frank’s words cause.

------

Frank’s voice is soft, and the man patching him up is listening intently, when Karen has recovered enough to be remotely useful, but she stops just beyond the corner to listen to them speak for a moment. 

“...shit, Frank, you ever think maybe you’re attracted to danger?”

“C’mon man, it ain’t like that.”

“You tellin’ me you wouldn’t take a bullet for that woman? Cause you’ll definitely take a knife. Got hard evidence right here.”

“Took the bullets before too.”

They both huff out pained laughter. 

“She means somethin’ to me, Curt. She... Jesus, Curt, Karen’s the most important thing I got.”

“I guess I should stock up my field kit, then.”

“You don’t gotta do that.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Karen waits half a minute before she turns the corner to join them, and Frank’s friend rises, wiping his hands off on a towel before he reaches a hand across the edge of the couch. “Curtis Hoyle.”

Karen shakes the hand without much thought for the blood staining it. “Karen Page.”

“And I’m Santa Claus,” Frank mutters, but without much bite, and Curtis pretends not to notice the hand Karen drops to his shoulder, or the way he leans into the touch. 

“I’m just gonna let you two have a minute,” Curtis mutters, more to himself than anything else because Karen is already scrambling over the back of the couch, watchful of the bandage on Frank’s arm and she curls her legs under her. Matt and Foggy have disappeared, and she’s glad of it, for the moment. 

“Red seems to think you got a price on your head because you worked the case with Nelson and Murdock.” He still says Murdock like it’s two words, rolling them over his tongue with derision, and Karen can’t help the small smile that blooms on her face as he presses his nose into her shoulder. It should feel strange, pressed close to him while he practically nuzzles against her, but now that they’ve at least made a poor attempt to acknowledge what’s going on between them Frank has certainly wasted no time in accepting it.

“That’s not why.”

“Figured as much.”

“Matt and Foggy - if they’re part of this they should know. But they won’t be happy about it.”

“Well I’m morally repugnant,” he tells her, like he’s quoting someone. “Think I can handle it.”

“Yeah.”

“You need a minute?”

“No,” she tells him, her hand furling and unfurling on her thigh. “Yes.”

“I can wait,” he tells her, and lifts his face from her shoulder, leaning back against the couch and gathering her hand in his. Her palm is sweaty, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Curt pumped me full of pain meds, though, so you wait too long and you’ll be telling your deep dark secrets to my snores.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? The way he can just make light of something she’s been terrified to tell for years, the way he knows exactly what she needs, exactly what -

“I killed his man. They were trying to get to Nelson and Murdock, trying to... I was never really sure what they were trying to do. He kidnapped me. Took me out to some abandoned building to scare me, and when that didn’t work...”

“He would have killed you.”

“Yes.”

There’s no judgement in his eyes, nothing to make her believe she was wrong for doing what she’d done. That should scare her. It should make her want to run in the opposite direction. 

She shifts to press her knees into his thigh.

“I don’t know how he knows,” she tells him, pulling in a sharp breath, and her chest feels tight again.

“Hey. Listen. Karen, listen.” There’s a softness to his voice sometimes, something that settles into her bones, and it’s like that now, as he ducks his head to hold her gaze. “Me and Fisk? We got unfinished business of our own. He’s not gonna touch you. I won’t let him. Murdock won’t let him. Hell, give Nelson some spandex and he’ll probably try to join in.”

The sharp burst of laughter cuts through the anxiety rising within her. “That’s not funny,” she chides him, and he shrugs.

“It’s a little funny.”

You mean something to me, she thinks, as Foggy and Matt burst back into the cabin, arguing between themselves, and Karen knows they haven’t spoken this much since before Matt came back. She can’t help but feel glad of this, even if they’re pretending not to give a damn about each other at the moment. 

Foggy gets one look at Karen’s hand curled in Frank’s, blinks, calls out “Pete Castiglione, really?” and spends the next thirty minutes yelling at her, instead.

------

“Frank!” 

The sound of her scream still echoes in her ears, as she watches Curtis work, her body trembling as he digs another bullet out, this one lodged in Frank’s thigh. She’s got blood on her hands, in her hair, covering a third of her clothes, and across the way she can see Claire Temple sewing up a cut on Matt’s forehead. 

She’d muttered something earlier about goddamn vigilante triage, and through her tears Karen had snorted out a laugh, but the amusement hadn’t lasted. Frank is worse off than everyone else, which isn’t exactly a shock to anyone, even Karen, but there’s something niggling in the back of her mind, something she’s trying not to acknowledge, something that reaches out and slams into her chest when she sees Luke Cage curl a hand around Claire’s shoulder. 

I didn’t tell him, she thinks.

He’s lost too much blood, fought too much fight, there’s barely a patch of skin on him not covered in blood and bruises, and he’d done this for her, because of her, because Fisk had wanted Karen and he wasn’t about to let that happen. 

You mean everything to me, she wants to say, wants to whisper into his skin, wants too paint across his eyelids, but he’s barely breathing and he’s lost more blood than a person should be capable of losing, and the bags of it labelled “Micro” in a cooler by the door aren’t going to be enough.

She’s going to lose Frank, and the last thing she ever told him was a lie.

------

The valerian and honeysuckle in a vase next to her bed are, perhaps, a little overkill, but when she blinks awake, sitting up on the couch, she finds Frank not asleep in that bed sitting on the floor in front of her, leaning against the couch as he turns the pages of her flower book, careful not to disturb the petals pressed against some of the pages.

He reaches behind his head with a grimace, no doubt caused by lingering pain in his ribs, curls his fingers around her waist, returns to his reading. 

“You’re awake.”

He hums, presses the back of his head against her thigh, but otherwise seems completely uncaring of anything but the book. 

“I lied,” she tells him, digging a hand into his hair, curling her fingers around his scalp, and the hum returns, deeper this time, but she can’t distract him from the book. 

“Didn’t,” he mutters, like he knows exactly what she means, like he’s ready to argue this with her until he’s blue in the face, like he hasn’t spent the last three days in and out of consciousness, barely alive.

Go. I’ll be fine without you! she’d told him.

“Frank, forget about the stupid flowers.” He tilts his head to one side, then the other, her nails scritching against his scalp, but he’s nearing the end of the book now, few flowers left, and -

His finger finds the picture of the valerian, his eyes darting quickly back to the bedside before he reads through the description. He rolls his neck against her, tilting his chin up to watch her. “Yeah,” he says on a nod. “Yeah me too.”

Karen crawls off the couch, too worried about his broken ribs and the arm he dislocated to wait for him to stand, but all her careful movements are pointless when he drags her into his lap and presses his forehead against hers a moment later. “Frank,” she says, feather soft against his busted lip, and he curls both hands around her jaw, nudges her nose with his own, presses his lips against each corner of her mouth before he stares up at her. 

“You remember, what I told you ‘bout Maria?”

Karen nods, her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck as he stares up at her, and she prepares herself for the weight of what he’s about to tell her.

Frank nods back, eyes red and watery, his teeth wearing at his bottom lip. “I see you, now.”

Karen pulls him close, presses her lips to his own, careful, quiet, soft around the bruises and cuts all over him, and holds him as the tears fall, as he breaks apart in her arms, and when he quiets, hands dragging across her back and her sides, face digging into her neck, Karen catches his gaze and holds it. “You’re home now.”

#kastle #kastle ff #kastle fic #frank castle x karen page #the flowers were not originally supposed to be a theme here #they kinda just happened #because frank and karen are shitty with emotions

[swaps55]

Ghosts

“I didn’t think you were going to show.”

Kaidan slides onto the empty stool next to Joker, who’s staring down at the bar like it’s a nav console, a half-empty glass of something amber at his elbow. There’s another glass in front of the empty stool that’s full. Kaidan doesn’t ask what it is. Doesn’t even say hello before he takes a deep sip. Whiskey. Good. It’s a whiskey kind of day.

He almost hadn’t shown. This wasn’t something he really wanted to commemorate with people, and especially not here. Of all the bars on Arcturus, Joker had to pick this one.

Joker smirks into his glass. “Everyone thought I was being stood up by a date.”

“Got held up in a briefing,” Kaidan replies. He thinks about apologizing, but doesn’t. This is already weird enough.

“Of course you did. The Alliance is actually keeping you busy.”

“Yeah.” Kaidan takes another drink, tries not to look at the booth to his right, almost but not quite out of eyeshot. Feels like a lifetime ago that he was sitting in it, 0600 the morning of a new assignment, his brand new superior office sitting in front of him nursing a bitch of a hangover with another beer.  

The Normandy’s former pilot looks about as bad as Shepard had on that morning five years ago. His uniform hangs on him. Beard hasn’t been trimmed, at least not lately. Even bad lighting and a low-brim hat doesn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes.

Kaidan’s chest tightens. Five years ago he had looked across the table at a soldier in pain and done something about it. But this time he’s tired. So fucking tired. He doesn’t have the energy to rescue anyone, even Joker. In a flash of bitterness he wishes for once that he wasn’t the one who gave a damn. Let someone else care for a change.

“Chakwas coming?” Kaidan asks, stifling his anger before it shows up in ways he’ll regret later. He’s already almost killed the glass. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to handle it this way, but it appears that had been a lie. He signals the bartender and orders another round. Joker tips his cap in thanks.

“She shipped out a week ago.”

“Shipped out?”

Joker nods, aggressively avoiding eye contact even though they haven’t really made any since Kaidan walked in. “Mars Naval.”

“I thought she wanted to serve on a ship?”

“She did.”

Kaidan digests this silently. The Alliance had gone out of their way to split up what was left of the Normandy’s crew. And most of them had gotten shit assignments out of it. He shifts uncomfortably on his stool. Joker notices.

“They planted her on Mars. Stuck Adams on a frigate patrolling the middle of nowhere. Sent Pressly’s family a medal and left me here to rot.” He swirls the liquid in his glass, glances at Kaidan out of the corner of his eye. “Your file, however, gets more and more and more classified every day.”  

“I’m flattered you’re checking up on me.”

“Well, when I’m the only one who seems to give a shit about what happened to everyone, you know we’re fucked.” There’s a scowl in his voice, and more than a little accusation. Kaidan will be damned if he lets Joker see him flinch.

“Doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t care,” he says carefully. Controlled. He’s good at control. “Just means we don’t go around throwing punches at superior officers who don’t like what we have to say.”

Ok, maybe right now he’s not as good at control as he’d like to be.

Joker curls a lip. Covers it with his glass. “Oh, you heard about that, huh?”

“Yeah. I heard about it.”

The Alliance might want to bury the details from the Battle of the Citadel, but it took more than just that to bench the best pilot in the fleet. Losing your shit at the commander assigned to your psych evaluation wasn’t a good look. Joker had indeed been rotting on Arcturus, for nearly eight months. By the looks of it, that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

Joker huffs a little. It’s not a happy sound. “You know, I usually don’t get too depressed about having a skeleton made out of fine china. But that asshole needed a good punch in the face, and my worthless meatsack couldn’t even make that happen with any sense of satisfaction.”

“If you’d actually decked him, you’d have been court martialed. Or worse. So there’s that, at least.” That is only partially a lie. The fact that Joker hadn’t really hurt the guy had been almost immaterial. Half the reason he’d gotten off so light was because Kaidan had gotten involved – rather vehemently – on his behalf. But Joker doesn’t know that, and Kaidan doesn’t really see the need to tell him.

At the table behind them Kaidan hears whispering. The place is mostly occupied with grunts and cadets. Kaidan and Joker might be the only officers in the place, and it appears they’ve been recognized. Kaidan hunches his shoulders a little. Joker casts him a sidelong glance and shakes his head before taking another swig from his glass. “They always notice. Forget about it.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan says. His gaze lingers on that damned booth. It’s empty, which makes it easier to stare. See ghosts.

“Would you rather sit at the table?” Joker asks with a pointed look.

“No,” Kaidan says, much harsher than he intends to.

Joker shrugs moodily. “Right, whatever.”

There’s a long silence. There’s nothing comfortable in it.

“Thanks for coming,” Joker says gruffly, staring into his drink.

Kaidan glances at him in surprise. “Of course.”

“I know it’s weird,” Joker continues, hesitating over each word. “You and I don’t exactly…well, whatever. Ashley was about all you and me had in common, and she’s dead.”

This time Kaidan does wince.

Jokers hand shakes as he takes a drink, the liquid inside wobbling almost enough to slosh over the edge. “I’d have called Pressly or Chase, but hey, they’re dead too. This day got closer and closer and I just didn’t…” He exhales.

Kaidan resists the urge to say something, getting the feeling that if he spoke Joker would stop and not start again.

“I guess some days even people who like to be alone need some company,” he went on. “And everyone else is dead or gone and…” He scrubs the corner of his eye with a fist, then downs the rest of his glass and orders another. “So yeah. Thanks for coming.”

There are a dozen things Kaidan could say, but none of them feel right. His eyes drift back to the empty booth.

“This is where Shepard and I first met,” he says after another long silence. Every muscle in his body is tense. He’s never said anything about that day to anyone. Never imagined he ever would, especially not to Joker of all people.

“What, here?” the pilot asks, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” Kaidan replies. “Right there, in that booth. It…wasn’t a good day. It was the morning we were reporting for duty on the Myeongnyang. Shepard’s first assignment after Torfan.”

“Shit,” Joker says after a moment.

Kaidan nods. It’s his turn to stare at his glass. “Turns out the Savior of the Citadel is just as human as the rest of us, when you get down to it.”

In his mind he remembers Shepard, not the hero that everyone else pictured, but the person Kaidan had seen on that very first meeting. The soldier who had done things that made it hard to sleep at night. The marine who looked in the mirror and saw a monster, and had reached that point where keeping everyone else from seeing that same reflection was just a little too much to ask. That day, Shepard had been just as human, just as broken as anyone else. That Kaidan had been the one to witness it, been the one to offer a hand when Shepard was willing to take it, had nothing to do with Kaidan and everything to do with random chance. Some days, he’s eternally thankful that it happened the way it did. Others, like on the anniversary of Shepard’s death, he wishes it had been anyone else.

He takes a deep breath. “Its okay to hurt. It’s okay to ask for help. Sometimes we all need it.”

Joker nods, gazing off at something Kaidan’ can’t see. “Yeah, guess we do.” After a moment he raises his glass. “To the Normandy. And everyone who’s not here.”

Kaidan clinks his glass against Joker’s, then takes a swig. Orders another.

 “To the Normandy.” 

#kaidan alenko #jeff 'joker' moreau #my fic #shenko #if you look hard enough #i deliberately left shepard ungendered #so interpret it however you will #i am really fucking attached to these two right now and i don' know why #i have more planned #i just see them as two people who don't even really like each other #but somehow find stability in each other #at weird moments #and it turns out they both kind of need it #so they just wind up having these odd conversations with each other #in which they say a lot by saying very little #sometimes it makes them feel better #sometimes it makes them feel worse #but they figure either way might as well do it together

[theotherjax]

BEFORE THE BEGINNING

This really seriously got away from me, and thank fuck for that.

Under the cut: Overwatch, Pre-Fall, young!Fareeha and Genji, talk of cybernetics, prosthetic parts being taken off and wobbly in case that needs a warning. Also rampant posthumanism but I guess that’s a matter of perspective.

They weren’t really a family. It was a nice sentiment, and they bandied it about during the good times, when all the pieces seemed together to make something more in the whole. But put together any collection of oddities and there would be that want, to belong with the belongingless, and all of them were sharp enough to know it. It made encounters shoot sparks sometimes when exposed wires were forced to brush too close in the hope of completing a circuit. They wanted, but they weren’t really family, because there wasn’t really intimacy about it when they were all busy trying to turn their oddities into heroism before the whole world.

t took a particular kind of intimacy to have someone walk in on you when your face was off. Genji did not have that intimacy with Fareeha Amari, age fifteen.

Technically speaking, Genji’s lower jaw wasn’t even supposed to come off outside of upgrades or heavy maintenance. He must have been exceptionally drunk to do it, and in possession of tools one should not possess while exceptionally drunk. Or perhaps it was McCree who actually did the unhinging, because he was certain it had been McCree’s idea to test whether Genji could remote-taste things through his artificial palate when it wasn’t all in one piece. Genji couldn’t strictly taste anything to begin with - he had certain chemical sniffers, but the signals they fired translated to salt present, not salty. But he had been exceptionally drunk and figured the worst thing that could happen was accidentally poisoning himself, which was of course a weak deterrent. So now his chemical sniffers were pitching little fits at the quantity of ethanol soaked into their bedding in his tongue, and he was too damn hungover to lock the screws in his jaw hinge right, and a teenage girl in a set of slacks nicked from his commanding officer was staring at him from his doorway, looking like she was going to need her own jaw screwed properly on again.

“Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?” Genji snapped, feeling everything in his skull rattle a little out of alignment.

Fareeha went as hot a red as her brown complexion showed and seemed to shrink just a bit further into Commander Reyes’ black hoodie. She was at that gangly stage where everything her body did unwillingly showed. “I, um, I was knocking and the door wasn’t, it just opened.”

“I always lock the door.”

“Well you, didn’t last night. Maybe because you and Jesse, um, he said I should check you’re okay - “

“Tell him to fuck off.” Genji’s English was still heavily accented, and worse when he didn’t have full control of his mouth, but he had learned to enunciate very specific words.

Fareeha twitched. A gesture wrung between the shrinking cringe that came form being fifteen, and the jerking up of her chin that came from being Fareeha Amari. Genji didn’t wait to see which would win out. He whipped to his feet and walked up to the door, hand already held out to slam it shut.

Fareeha’s eyes widened. Then, inches from his hand to the door, she mumbled, “Ya Allah, that is really cool.”

Genji froze - not because he was flattered, not because he was surprised that she didn’t back off, but because he realized she wasn’t looking at his face. His chest. His armour was entirely off. Fareeha had probably never seen him that dismantled before. The metal that clasped his throat, the intricate circuitry woven around his ribs, down to the lining of the cartridges along his prosthetic arm, the glowing self-monitoring readouts on the synthetic mesh of his stomach - “If it’s ‘so cool’,” he snarled at her, with venom he couldn’t possibly give his superiors or fellow soldiers,  “why don’t you try it?”

“I would if I could!”

They weren’t really a family, and so Genji only knew from rumours, from McCree’s gabbing, that Fareeha wasn’t the most interpersonally astute girl around. McCree’s common description - fond, but as patronizing as only one kid could be to another - was “a huge dweeb”. A strange shoot grown in strange soil, in Overwatch. But this was extreme.

She was fifteen. He was a cybernetically enhanced assassin. He couldn’t slap her.

“I mean, it’s strictly medical technology,” Fareeha continued, a huge dweeb, not picking up on his shocked seething rage. Or possibly the chin-jerk had won out after all. “Angela said so. But maybe by the time I enlist some of the stuff would be available as an elective upgrade. Like ummi’s eye? You know she volunteered to test it out when she - “

“I didn’t volunteer,” Genji said, so tightly he thought the screws in his jaw might lock themselves.

“I know. Just - “ finally, finally, a thunderstruck look descended upon Fareeha’s face and shoulders. She looked a little gray, or perhaps green. “I - that was really stupid, I’m sorry, even for an idiot like me that was really, it’s just that this is so - “ 

She raised a hand, young and ill-fitting and half-finished, in a vague longing gesture at the chrome and steel of him.  

Genji took a steadying breath. He’d been finding those hard ever since vents and pumps had become involved. Being able to see the internal state of his body displayed in digital red at any given second on what passed for his skin was also no help. He wanted to tell her to get out of there. He wanted to tell her that this wasn’t what he dreamed about getting when he was growing up into himself. He half-turned and gritted out, “your mother will not approve.”

It was a fatal mistake. Even without looking, he could feel Fareeha’s presence expand, feel her self strain at the seams of her awkward youth. “Mother won’t approve of anything I want to do.”

“And you should listen! This is not a game, it is not “cool”! This is my body!” Despite himself he threw those words at her feet, at her face, his living hand flashing down the cold dead length of him, look, take a good look! “No one wants this!”

Fareeha took a step back. She looked mortified. He felt the memory of bile at the back of his throat - no real bile anymore - at the look he always read as pity. She was fifteen, she wasn’t a child. He could reach out and grab the back of her oversized hoodie and shake her inside it and make her look -

He hadn’t realized how fast he moved until realizing that she had tried to counter him, that the tears in her eyes were a reflex response to the collision of her bare wrist against the metal of his arm. She might have succeeded, if he had only been a man. Through all her disapproval her mother had trained her well. It occurred to him then that Ana would not truly stop her daughter from anything, not even this, if Fareeha truly wanted it. The ones who loved her would back her to the end. The stress alarms floating in his artificial vision rose bright red, and he could feel his systems begin to hum into battle mode, preparing endorphins, stimulants, coolant, everything he needed to be rendered calm and precise.

“I’m sorry!” Fareeha burst, even as she planted her feet down into a defensive combat pose. “I’m sorry this happened to you, I’m sorry I always say the wrong thing! I know you hate it, I just, I do want this. For my body. I want to be fast, strong - faster and stronger than anyone!”

“You want to be a weapon?!”

“I want to be a soldier!”

Genji let her go. She didn’t even slump, just settled, brittle but instantly braced, as straight-backed as her growing bones could make her. 

“You’re a child,” Genji said, with more weariness than disgust. I was also a child. They didn’t care. “You don’t know what you want.”

A fatal mistake. Again. When he looked back at her she looked him in the eye. “This is my body,” she said again. “It’s about doing what I want. I - Angela thought you’d understand.”

Genji closed his eyes. “Angela didn’t ask what I wanted.”

“She said you were going to die,” Fareeha answered, “and that dead people can’t make choices.”

It was the most Angela thing Genji had heard in over a year of actually knowing Angela; and at the same time it was all of Overwatch, Ana with her cutting wisdom, Morrison with his do-your-damn-job grit, Reyes with his unrelenting faith in change, in possibility. All of it rolled up into this girl that grew up in this collection of oddities that wasn’t really a family. Genji’s heart spasmed through the battle prep. He tightened his jaw.

His jaw made a creaking noise, and a screw popped out of the hinge.

Fareeha made a strangled noise that was quite possibly a word Ana wasn’t supposed to know she knew. 

Genji considered his options. He could initiate system shutdown and attempt to die on the spot. He could fly into a rage that would definitely end with him having to explain the set of circumstances to Reyes, if not, worse, to Ana. Or he could…

Fuck.

He had to reach out and realign his jaw, and keep a hand up to keep it realigned as he spoke. “You fucked it up, so you come help me fix it properly.”

Her eyes lit up. Maybe it was his third fatal mistake of the day. Maybe instead of showing her the horror of it - of having to have a part of you fixed, worked on with pliers and a screwdriver - he was encouraging her, whatever her fantasies were, of being gleaming, impervious, easy to repair. But his head hurt too badly to care now, he just wanted to be in one piece again. Let Ana work it out of her system, or age. Age would do it. No one really wanted to grow up to all changed, all remade.

He let the door drift open, and Fareeha followed him gingerly into the room. She pulled out a stool next to the bed as he dropped onto it and groaned at Athena to dim the lights. Her lips pursed.

“Angela told me you can switch off hangovers if you want,” she said, almost like it was a dare.

Genji shook his head, though it made his vision swim. “They make me feel human.”

Fareeha looked down at her hand. She was holding the loose screw between a thumb and forefinger, rolling it carefully. Her eyes passed between it and him. “I guess I understand,” she said, in a tone that said she didn’t really, but would try to for his sake. Maybe it was fine for now, Genji thought. Maybe it was the first step…

That is really cool

“Come on.” He turned his head to let her see what was unfinished in him. “Let’s get this over with.”

#jax does wurdz #overwatch #fareeha amari #pharah #genji shimada #i do popular fandoms now deal with it #oh my god I wrote a thing look everyone that hasn't happened in like months #omgomgomg

[sickficprompts]

Another sickfic

When you read your own sickfic and wish you knew the ending :P

Found this in my backup from my old computer. Thought I’d share :) It’s another one about River Song, and it’s super fun! Thought I’d post since it’s the actress’s birthday today! Wish I finished it... Maybe I should keep writing it?

It was between teaching her first and second class of the day that River Song finally admitted to herself she was sick.

She'd woken up with a sore throught, which she'd explained away with dryness, and a sick feeling in her stomach, which she explained away with having eaten at a new restaurant the night before, though she doubted that was what it was.

But as she went back to her desk after a lecture to get some much needed water, a dizzy spell hit her that made the whole room rock like she was on a ship, and she had to lean on the podium to stay upright.

A few students were still packing their things, and one asked, “Proffessor Song, are you okay?”

She nodded as the dizziness started to transform into a dull throb in her head. “Yes. I'm fine. Thank you, Meredith.”

But in the five minutes between this class and the following, she made it only to her desk chair, and the prospect of having to get up and give another lecture suddenly seemed quite daunting. In fact, the idea of sitting at her desk and giving a lecture seemed daunting. Her throat was killing her.

But, at first, she kept up the idea that she'd just make it through that day. Then, she could rest. Then, she could lay down. Now, she would make it through this class and three more.

She spent the entire lecture with her elbows on the podium, her fatigued body enjoying the tiny bit of rest it got and her throat hating the choice all around.

At the end of the class, she slid her binder into her bag, slung the tote over her shoulder, and wrote a note on the door saying the following class was canceled.

Before going back to her room, she told the office she was taking a sick day, and their response was expected. “No problem. Get well soon!”

She hoped so.

In her apartment, she was curled up in her bed still wearing her skirt suit, though she'd kicked off her heals in favor of bare feet. She'd started off on the couch, but once she got tired of shivering, she wobbled her way to a place with the blanket.

Through her closed bedroom door, she heard the noise of the TARDIS.

“God, no. Of all days!” she groaned and sat up. Though she was dizzy, she managed to stand and go to the mirror where she managed to tame some of the fuzz framing her already big hair. Her face was pale and her cheeks flushed, but she hoped he wouldn't notice that.

“River?” he called. “Are you home?”

“In here, Sweetie,” she called, slipping on her shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed, and grabbing the novel off the nightstand in one fluid motion. He burst through the door.

“Oh, now what are you doing sitting around?” he demanded and knelt on the bed. “I've brought the TARDIS. Come along!”

As much as she just wanted to stay in her bed, she forced a smile and shut the book she'd opened. She had no idea what page it had been on, so she didn't worry about losing it. “Well I was reading, my love.”

“Why read when you can experience?” he said with an exaggerated hand motion. Then he frowned. “No, never mind. Reading is fun, but I like adventure too! Read when you can't travel. That's what I do. Or sometimes I read when others can't travel.”

She didn't ask. “Okay. Where should we go?”

He popped up. “Anywhere!” And he ran into the other room. When she heard the TARDIS door open, she let her weariness show again. He couldn't see her from here.

With one last longing look at her soft bed, she stood, steadied herself against the dresser, and went to the TARDIS.

He was bounding around the console, typing things into the monitor and running around to hit a few lit buttons on the other side. She focused on the static areas of her line of sight and hoped he wouldn't notice.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked. He sounded like an overexcited child.

“Mmm...” She thought. River didn't want to put in the energy of choosing, but he'd choose somewhere exciting, loud, busy. She didn't want to deal with that either. “We've never been to the Singing Towers of Darillium.”

He shook his head. “Not today. Somewhere else.”

“We've never gone though.” She reached the console and leaned on it so her hip jutted out on one side, making it look like she chose to lean for a reason. Or at least distracting him.

“Yes, but we will. Not today.”

“Oh, fine then. Let's go to a beach somewhere. One with warm water.” That sounded quite nice at the moment. She was freezing.

“How about somewhere with wind. I like wind.”

She sighed. River loved the Doctor, but he was very set in his ways most of the time.

“I suppose wind is good. No cold though. I didn't bring a sweater.” She should have. Even the TARDIS seemed cold.

“Are you cold? You're shivering.”

She crossed her arms, holding more heat in. “No.”

The TARDIS hummed with worry. The Doctor paused to caress her. “What's wrong, old girl?”

River took the opportunity to close her eyes a moment. They were burning, but she opened them again quickly. The Doctor was still distracted.

She went to the bench and sank into it's leather gratefully. Her  vertigo didn't subside, but it didn't feel as disorienting when she was supported.

“River, something's wrong with the TARDIS.”

“I'm sure it's nothing,” she said. The ship was worried about her daughter, and River really wasn't in the mood for her to tell the Doctor. She was reassuring her, not him.

“But she's worried about something.”

“Mmm?” She found herself letting her head rest on the back of the bench. It really was quite comfortable.

“Yes. I think I'd better check on- Are you alright?”

She opened her eyes and sat up. The Doctor was looking at her curiously. “Yes. Fine.”

He paused, clearly puzzled. “Are you sure? You look... you look pale.”

The TARDIS seemed relieved. He turned back to the console. “Is that what you wanted me to see?”

River stood, which almost knocked her over on it's own, and crossed her arms. “What do you mean by that?”

He looked back to her. “Are you sick, River?”

“No! I don't get sick.”

“Can I scan you then?” He came closer to her, and she went around the console, letting her fingertips brush the side in case she needed more support.

“Why do that? Let's go to that wind place you wanted to go to.” He frowned, studying her, and she smiled. “Well, I suppose we could stay here, and...” She let herself trail off. He'd know what she meant, and if she'd guessed right, this was too early in his life for him to want to do something like that.

He blushed, and she was almost relieved. She smiled wider at him.

Suddenly distracted, he typed coordinates into the monitor. “Somewhere windy it is.”

The TARDIS was impatient. River ran her fingers down one edge.

She landed. The Doctor looked up at the screen and frowned. “We can get them tomorrow, can't we? I want to spend the day with River.”

“Who?” River asked, craning her neck to look at the monitor. They were at Amy and Rory's house. That would blow her cover quickly. Amy was too observant, and Rory was a nurse of all things. Once it was noticed, he wouldn't let it go.

The Doctor tried to take off, but they just reappeared in the same spot. He sighed. “Oh, alright you stubborn thing. We'll pick up Amy and Rory.”

Before he could go and get them, someone was knocking on the door. The Doctor hurried to get it, and River stood up just a bit straighter.

Amy threw her arms around the Doctor's neck. “Doctor! It's been six months!”

Actually, it had been three weeks, and the last time River had seen them, they were dying.

“River!” Amy scampered over and hugged her too. Though surprised, she managed to remember how to hug without falling over. Amy pulled away, and River quickly rested her hand back on the console. She was trembling and the movement had made her dizzy again.

Rory appeared in the threshold of the door next, looking tired. “Honestly, could you come at a normal time, Doctor? It's four thirty in the morning.”

Amy pulled him in all the way and shut the door. “Come on, Mr. Grumpy-Pants. Lighten up.”

“I would. The Doctor can't fly this thing for his life, but she can.” He motioned to River, who rolled her eyes and proceeded to regret doing so.

“Hello, Dad.”

Rory tipped his head to the side a moment, staring at her. “Are you okay, River?”

“Perfectly fine. Now, Doctor, weren't we going to go somewhere?” She really didn't like how quickly they were catching on.

Amy was glancing curiously at her too now. “Are you sure, River?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “You don't have to worry about me. I'm all grown up, Mother.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, slowly, “But you'd say if something was wrong, right?”

The TARDIS hummed in annoyance, and the Doctor flicked a switch. They took off. “We can stay here if you need to,” he said.

“No.”

“Are you su-”

“I'm going to go make some tea,” she said with a resolute flip of the brake switch, turning them off. They were making her headache horrible. “If any of you want to join me, there's a rule. No more, “Are you okay?” and “Are you sure?”. I've already answered them. I'm not going to do it again.” With that, she walked out, focusing intently on following a line of tiles so she wouldn't stumble. The TARDIS was nice enough to bring the kitchen closer for her.

Amy followed her in. River heard her whisper something to the boys. She figured she was telling them not to follow, because they didn't.

The first thing River realized was that the only tea the Doctor had was of all things peppermint, and the second was that there was no tea kettle.

Nothing was working today. Reeling sort of sorry for herself, she sat heavily on a kitchen stool. Amy went and sat across from her. “I know something's wrong.”

“I said you couldn't ask that.'

“I didn't ask. I stated.”

She leaned her chin on her elbow. “Fine. I've got a cold. Happy?” The annoyed tone was at a slightly different pitch than her normal speaking voice, and tickled her throat. She swallowed a cough.

“No.”

“What more do you want?”

“I want you to stop lying.”

“I'm not lying.”

“Then stand up and spin around for me.”

River glared at her, and Amy smiled. “Go on.”

“It's a cold. I've got a headache. I don't want to.”

“You can't.”

“I can. I don't want to.”

“Melody...” she warned. River stood and went back into the console room.

“You've got no good tea again, Doctor.”

“Sorry. I drank it all.”

“Why didn't you get more?”

“Grocery shopping is boring! I'd much rather get tea on other planets.”

Amy grabbed River by the wrist, forcing her to stop and look at her. “What?”

“We're not going anywhere.”

“Mother, I'm fine. Let go of me.” She really wanted to sit back down.

“Let Rory look at you at least.”

“Why?”

“Rory, look at River.”

She pushed River toward him, not roughly, but hard enough that she stumbled a little. She just wanted to sit back down. Why couldn't Amy just leave her alone?”

His hand touched her cheek. It felt cold. “She doesn't feel feverish.”

Luckily, the Doctor was too busy pressing buttons to hear the comment. She knew she probably did have a fever, but it wouldn't feel like it to him, since her body temperature was naturally lower than his.

Amy tried too, and she gave River a long look before letting go. “Fine. Let's go then.”

River couldn't help but feel the slightest bit smug. The Doctor came over. “Okie-dokie! We're here. Ready?”

Amy and Rory were clearly still worried, but I nodded. “Yep.”

#river song #11th doctor #sickfic #doctor who #amy pond #rory williams #im lovin it

[fasterthanyouvidia-blog]

Serious Study Session || Chat Log

Important Plot Stuff Here

The N.E.W.T.s Potion Study Session was schedule for Friday night. A few students actually signed up and even fewer showed. The unused classroom was dusty and lacked light due to the lack of upkeep over the years. The tables were rickety and each of the students were stuck with a stool that had some sort of issue from wobbly legs to loose seats that shifted with the slightest movement.

Vidia: Vidia's foot slid off the top rung of the stool as she flipped through her Advanced Potions textbook. The lighting blew and made her eyes strain just to rest the ingredients of her book. "Fucking stupid N.E.W.T.s" She muttered in Spanish to herself.

Malinda: As Malinda tossed her textbook onto the table, she huffed and pulled her wand out, casting a quick lumos in the hopes that it would make the lighting a little better. "Look, we can go through this book again and again, but we need to actually get our hands dirty if we're going to remember any of it." At least, that was her opinion.

Dory: As usual, Dory found it hard to keep still as she sat looking at the pages in her potions book. She'd been kicking her legs as she tried to put the information on the page into her head. Even with a memory that worked, she was finding that a difficult task. Dory looked up as the book hit the table and one of the other girls spoke up. Her face brightened as she beamed a smile. "That sounds like a great idea!"

Elsa: Elsa was never late and hardly ever 'just on time', so of course she had been the first one to arrive. Not many people had showed, so she was stuck with the three girls sitting around her. She didn't even know any of them outside of what had happened with Vidia. "Which potion do you suggest we do then?" She asked as she flipped through the pages of her textbook.

Vidia: Vidia scowled at Elsa as she flipped through the pages. "It was Mal's beautiful idea. Let the puta pick." She let a smirk tug at the corners of her mouth. As it overstayed its welcome on her face, she let the smirk drop and she slammed her book shut. There was no use for it if Malinda was going to lead the session with making a potion.

Malinda: "I was thinking Polyjuice. It's complicated but something we need to know for our tests...and I've figured out how to make it without needing to wait so long for it to simmer. What do you think?" She looked at everyone around the group expectantly, hoping they'll like the idea as much as her.

Dory: "I think we should do it!" Dory said enthusiastically as she hopped up off her stool and clapped her hands together.

Elsa: Elsa nodded in agreement, but couldn't help but be a little worried about how Malinda had managed to shorten the time by so much. She'd never heard of anyone being able to complete the potion within a single night.

Vidia: Vidia rested her boot against the leg of the table as she stared around the old room. Studying was so tiresome. She could name at least ten different things she'd rather be doing. She only signed up because she needed to pass her exam. With everything she was doing lately she was falling behind.

Malinda: Malinda nodded her head and grinned in excitement as she started gathering the cauldron and main ingredients. "Okay, we still need a few of the ingredients, but they're easy enough to get, so I think we should divide and conquer," she said, splitting up the ingredients left on pieces of paper for each of them. "Yeah? Sound like a plan?"

Dory: Dory took the piece of paper handed to her and looked at the small list, her grin not even fading for a second. She was eager to help. This would be fun. And hopefully, she'd learn a little more. "Okey Dokey Smokey!" Dory said with a salute as she turned to go search for the ingredients on her list.

Elsa: "Alright," Elsa nodded and followed Dory out the door, heading for where she'd last seen the potions closet.

Vidia: "Alright," Vidia slid off the stool as she took the list and went to collect the ingredients she was in charge of.

Malinda: Malinda grinned as everyone headed off to get their parts of the potion, she went off to collect her own and then started working on the spell to make the potion work faster. As the other girls started to come back in, she gave them a grin. "Welcome back! Get everything?"

Dory: Having been the first one out the door, and having practically sprinted in order to go and get the things on her list, Dory was quick in returning to the room. "Yep!" she answered with a bright grin as she set all of the things in her arms onto the table. "Got it all!"

Elsa: Fortunately the potions closet hadn't moved from where she'd last seen it so she was there and back pretty quickly. She placed the collected items on neatly on the table beside Dory's, "Yes."

Vidia: Vidia had to go to the extra storage closet that they used while the dungeons were flooded so she was the last to return. Thankfully, when they do their exam, the ingredients would be present or Vidia would be injuring some Ministry officials who thought that would be a good idea. "Yeah," She put her items down on the table next to the rest the others collected.

Malinda: "Perfect!" she exclaimed when she saw all the ingredients on the table. She opened her potions textbook and set it in front of them. "Alright, let's do this. I'll let you know when we're skipping steps...pretty much any time we're supposed to wait." She paused and twirled her wand a little bit, hesitating a little bit. "Have any of you guys ever successfully made this potion before?" she asked, not wanting to seem rude but being genuinely curious.

Dory: As the book was set in front of the group, Dory leaned down with her elbows on the table to have a really good view of the pages. She was eager to help and eager to learn, so she was determined to follow along as they brewed this potion. Dory thought hard about whether or not she'd ever made this one before. "Mmmm... I don't remember," she said, not able to find a memory of having brewed this potion before. That wasn't necessarily something to worry about. There were still lots of things that Dory couldn't remember.

Elsa: "I have," Elsa replied. It had been a semester-long project in her potions class last year. "May I ask how you've managed to shorten the time so significantly?"

Vidia: "Nope." Vidia couldn't think of a time she had to make a polyjuice potion. There was never a time she had a need or a desire to be anyone else but herself.

Malinda: Malinda was glad that another person in their group had been able to make this potion. The question, however, threw her off a little bit. "Oh, um, it's a fairly simple spell," a lie, "just basically shortens the time for everything else. So instead of weeks, we wait a couple hours." Malinda offered a genuine and confident smile, sure that it would work. "So let's get started," she continued before turning her attention back to the book.

Dory: Dory didn't really like the idea of waiting around for hours, but it was better than weeks. Waiting was the worst part of making potions. It was just so boring.

Elsa: "Uh.... alright then," Elsa didn't know how she felt about Malinda's time shortening spell, it certainly was a bit worrying since she'd never heard of such a thing before, but she supposed she didn't have much of a choice. If they didn't use it there was no point in even making the potion.

Vidia: Vidia was game if they were able to figure out the stupid potion in less time. That meant less time stuck in that dusty room with the perpetual sweet child and Miss Stick-in-the-mud. Although, alcohol would make it tolerable but Elsa was there and Vidia didn't need to land herself in the Headmistress' office.

Malinda: Starting the potion was easy enough, things wouldn't get more complicated until the middle and the end, so as they worked on the polyjuice, Malinda was more than happy to take the lead, so to speak, but gave the other three plenty of chances to jump in and help and continue the arduous process. Soon enough, they were at the waiting part, and Malinda paused, putting a hand up for everyone to pause as well. "Okay, stand back for a minute. This is where I make that spell work and then we only wait for a couple hours." She pulled her wand out again and pointed it to the cauldron, a soft blue light leaving the tip of it and lighting up something that looked like a web around the cauldron.

Dory: As they worked on the potion, Dory was happy to jump in at every opportunity afforded to her. She eagerly took instructions from Malinda and was actually rather proud to be contributing to the potion in a tangible way. When they got the part with the waiting, Dory did as Malinda said and backed up a little bit. She was eager to see the spell that would make things go faster but was cautious because she knew that potions could be very bad news when you got on the wrong side of them. "Wow," she said in a low voice as the cauldron was lit up by a web of magic around it. "That's some spell. It's so pretty!"

Elsa: Elsa looked down at the potion surprised the spell looked to be working. She had no idea what the spell was actually supposed to look like, but Malinda wasn't freaking out so Elsa assumed it was working like it was supposed to. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she did agree with Dory about it being a rather pretty spell. Though that was probably because she'd always been partial to the color blue. Before Malinda had time to even thank Dory for the compliment the spell suddenly went very wrong. There was a loud "BOOM!" and then a cloud of sickly colored smoke exploded from the cauldron. There was a whole lot of coughing as everyone struggled to breath. As Elsa's lungs were filled with the almost toxic air her body began to feel... very odd and even a little painful.

Vidia: Vidia didn't join the group in the general enthusiasm. She sat close enough to see what Malinda was doing and learn the tricks to make the potion brew faster. Her eyes rolled at the spectacle of blue. Whoo hoo. Who cared? Vidia just wanted to see the potion completed so she could say she knew how to do it. Then the boom happened. Vidia's hands waved the smoke from her face as she coughed from inhaling it. "What the fuck, cadela?" She pounded the smoke from her lungs with a fist to her chest. "Fuck," She exhaled and ran her hand through her hair. "What?" Vidia stared at her hand as it held blonde strands of hair. "Malina, what did you do?" Vidia jumped from the stool, sending it across the room as she ran to find a mirror. "AHHHHH!" A shrill scream came from the potions closet. "I'm-I'm-I'm a bubblegum princess!"

Malinda: It was working. It was actually working. And then all of a sudden....it wasn't. The web started to waver, shift like it shouldn't have, and it was almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but she'd been working on this spell for months, she knew it inside and out. The boom reverberated throughout the room and her chest, and she felt pain like she had taken some polyjuice potion and was changing but she didn't feel wrong. Except now that the smoke was clearing, she was looking down rather thank looking up. "Oh no....no no no. No!" Immediately, instead of looking at the other girls, she went straight to the cauldron and saw that what was left was nothing but charred ingredients. "It should have worked! Why didn't it work? Is everyone okay?" she finally asked, looking around at everyone else...and then she spotted her face...but she wasn't looking in the mirror. "Fuck."

Dory: Few things could dampen Dory's enthusiasm, but one surefire way to do it was for something to explode. Even more surefire was if that something was a potion. The memories might be a little fuzzy, but Dory knew enough about her previous encounters with exploding potions to know it was not something she wanted to repeat. As the boom rippled through the room, Dory hit the dirt and crouched beneath the table as the smoke rolled over the group. Dory coughed along with everyone else, feeling the pain of something happening but not knowing what. As she huddled under the table, Dory was scared. Scared that something awful would happen to all four of them. But soon enough, the pain faded and the smoke cleared enough to breath and Dory slowly started out from under the table, only to quicken her pace when she heard the scream. But Dory froze as soon as she looked because... wait... that was her. But she was here. Dory glanced to the other girls and... that wasn't right either. "I'm okay," she said, answering the most pressing question first. "Well... I'm not hurt, anyway. I'm not sure our bodies being all switched around is okay..."

Elsa: The smoke cleared and Elsa's hearing was a little fuzzy, but otherwise she was mostly okay. Her whole body felt sore, but it was nothing life threatening. She heard a scream that sounded like Dory and immediately looked up, only to find herself face to face with... well, herself standing over the cauldron. Elsa gasped and glanced around the room frantically. Dory was panicing beside a mirror and Malinda was rushing over to her. Okay so Dory and Malinda were okay, but there was a duplicate of herself and Vidia was gone- A lock of dark hair fell into her vision and Elsa froze. Everything seemed to click in that one moment. Everyone was freaking out because a POLYJUICE POTION just exploded; a potion that made the drinker look like someone else. Elsa pulled off her glove and was met not by her pale hand, but instead by very tan skin. Malinda - or whoever now looked like Malinda - confirmed Elsa's realization when she said all their bodies were switched around. "Oh no," Elsa pressed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. "No, no, no, this cannot be happening."

Vidia: "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Vidia paced around. "Malinda what did you do?" Vidia kicked the stool over as the ringing in her ears faded and she could finally hear herself talk. "Please tell me you can fix this. I can't walk around looking like Dory and I can't have-" Vidia pointed at the person who looked like her but was clearly dressed in Elsa's clothes, "- Princess Prude walking around looking like me."

Malinda: Malinda's mind was going about a mile a minute. She couldn't figure out where she'd gone wrong. Everything had worked perfectly, it all made sense. How had this happened? She was still shaking her head and staring at the cauldron when Vidia, or at least who she assumed was Vidia based on the amount of bitching, started directing her questions at her. "I don't know. I don't know what happened...I don't know how. I'm sorry. I don't...her own pale hands threw her off a little. She was pale but not this pale. "But if you're Dory, and I'm Elsa, which one of you is me? Is it Dory or Elsa? Oh no, I'm so confused." Her head was starting to hurt a little, and she could feel the guilt starting to roll over her. "I am so sorry I didn't mean for this to happen. It was supposed to work! I - I'll make it work, I'll figure something out." She paused in her panicking and looked around at the other girls, her gaze lingering on her own face for a while, finding it very strange to know someone else was wearing it. "What do we do now?"

Dory: The whole scene was very odd. For one thing, it was extremely strange to see herself with such a potty mouth and kicking stuff around. For another, it was hard to tell who was who now. Obviously Dory wasn't the only one with that problem as Not-Elsa was trying to work it out too. Dory made her way over to the cauldron and pat Not-Elsa's arm. "It's okay. It was an accident, of course you didn't mean for it to happen." She smiled encouragingly, a thought in the back of her mind wondering how exactly that looked when she was using Malinda's face instead of her own. Since she didn't see Malinda anywhere else in the room, Dory had to assume that she was the one who looked like Malinda. "And if you got it to happen, then there's gotta be a way to make un-happen. We just have to find it. But it might be a good idea to figure out who is who first. I'll start, I'm Dory."

Elsa: "I'm Elsa and that's obviously Vidia," Elsa gestured over to the girl who looked like Dory but was spewing out all sorts of Spanish and fowl language. That meant Malinda was the one who now looked like her. She crossed her arms across her chest and tried avoiding looking at 'herself'. It was just too weird, like looking in a mirror and having your reflection act of it own accord. She swallowed anxiously, the high levels of stress she was feeling very clearly shown on 'her' face, "We should tell a professor, shouldn't we? If there's anyone who would know how to fix this it's Professor Pace."

Vidia: Vidia scowled as she watched herself talk. "Aren't you a genius?" The sarcasm was heavy as she spoke. "Elsa, why don't you shut the fuck up and sit in a corner. If we tell a professor what do you think will happen? I don't want detention because we let Malinda do some trick that backfired. Or get stuck like this for even longer to learn some bullshit lesson." Vidia turned to Malinda then to the person who was actually Malinda. "How long do you think until you can fix this? I need to be myself before the next quidditch game." She groaned thinking about being stuck as Dory and having Elsa looking like herself. "Esto es una mierda. Me quedé así porque hice lo correcto y llegué a la sesión de estudio. Mierda. ¡Mierda absoluta!"

 Malinda: "No!" Malinda immediately said, panic clear on her--Elsa's--face. "We can't go to the professors. We can't. We need to figure this out on our own. Think of it as a good way to study for exams. Please, just leave the professors out of it." She nodded her head. "Yeah, we'll figure it out," she repeated, thankful that Vidia was on her side in this. Malinda turned her attention back to Dory. "Take care of my body please. Don't like...get blown up or something. I'm going to go fix this. I promise!" As she spoke, she gathered up her things and picked up the cauldron while she was at it. Maybe something in there would give her information on how to turn this around. "This can be fun! I'll fix it. Just give me a little time! DON'T TELL A PROFESSOR!!" Malinda called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the room.

Dory: As the other three erupted into an angry/panicked argument, Dory mostly just stood there. Between the angry Spanish exit of Vidia and the panicked rush of Malinda following soon after, Dory was left more than a little confused about what happened now. And she was fairly certain that polyjuice potion just made you look like someone else, not actually switch bodies with them, so was it actually possible to take care of Malinda's body? That question would probably remain a mystery. Dory watched Malinda hurry away and then turned to Elsa, nervously tugging at a strand of the dark hair she now sported. "So... I know she said not to but... I kind of think we should tell a professor..."

Elsa: As Malinda began gathering up her things Elsa started pacing. It was something she always did whenever she was stressed. "This is a complete disaster and you two want me to keep quiet about it because you don't want to get in trouble?!" She groaned and tried to think of how she was supposed to go back to her dorm like this. She was brought back to the present reality when Malinda started talking again and then sprinted out of the room, Vidia hot on her heels. "Fun?" Elsa murmured in disbelief. Her face quickly turned from one of mass confusion and anxiety to pure frustration, "This will most certainly NOT be fun! It's a complete and utter mess!" She clenched her jaw and ran over to the door, calling after them as they hurried down the hall, "You better figure out how to fix this soon or so help me I will go straight to the head mistress!" She let out an annoyed huff and walked back into the classroom. Oh God, how were they supposed to fix this? Malinda promised she'd figure something out, but after what had just happened Elsa didn't trust a word she said. The Head Girl was so caught up in her thoughts she complete forgot Malinda - whoops, Dory - was still there. The sound of the girl's voice altered Elsa of her presence and calmed her down a bit. "I doubt Professor Pace is even awake right now," Elsa sighed. "Let's just wait until morning and then try to figure something out then. Maybe Malinda will have actually figured something out by then, or maybe the effects of her disastrous mistake will have worn off by morning, I don't know."

Fin

Important HC: Their voices will also sound like the person they look like.

@a-frozenheart @likeateatray-inthesky @adorable-dory-crosby

#chatlog #malinda #elsa #dory #chatlogswitch