#SIRI PLAY CRAWLING UP THE WALLS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitchassbucky · 3 years

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Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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sweetestofchaos · 3 years

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Ｐｅｔｔｙ ✋🏽 662

Waring(s): SFW. Cursing. Interracial Relationship. SOL. Argument. Cuddles. Chapter(s): One-Shot Description: Yugyeom ain’t shit and he knows it. Paring(s): Yugyeom x Black!Reader

You slammed the door to the bedroom, the walls shaking in the aftermath. You were pissed, why was it so hard for your boyfriend to help you? You understood that he worked long hours, but so did you. So why did it feel like most of the home life was on you? You constantly cleaned up his messes, took the dog for walks and folded laundry. Why couldn’t he just help with a simple task like putting the grocery's away or washing the dishes from his lunch break earlier that day? You felt…defeated. The weight of your daily life started to bring you down. Your body moved on autopilot as you grabbed your laptop off your desk and plopped down on the bed. Curling in on yourself, you picked up from where you left off on your newest anime binge. Hunter X Hunter played, and you watched with unfocused eyes as the bright colors flashed before you.

The smell of hot grease creeped in from the crack of the door, but your senses were numb. You paused your anime unable to give it the proper attention it needed. Dalkyum’s nails clicked on the hardwood as he walked past the bedroom door, and you bite your bottom lip. You pulled your knees to your chest, rested your forehead on them and your red twists dangled around your face. You sighed and tried to collect yourself. “Siri play my hate on Spotify.” The Bluetooth speaker on your nightstand lit up purple before Just The Same by Charlotte Lawrence played. You rolled your eyes, “Skip.” Sorry by Beyoncé played and a small smile found its way onto your lips. Yeah, it was petty, but playing ain’t shit music put you in a better mood.

You sang along softly to the song and Thank You, Next by Ariana Grande played. The bedroom door opened and your boyfriend, Yugyeom walked into the room holding a plate of food in his hand. Walking into the room, Yugyeom set the plate down in front of you and laid on the bottom of the bed sideways. You moved your laptop and straightened out your legs, the heels of your feet brushed up against Yugyeom’s bare arm. You placed the plate in your lap and slowly ate the meal that Yugyeom prepared for you. The food warmed your stomach and your anger melted away with each bite. You finished your food quickly and set the plate on the nightstand.

“Thank you…”

Yugyeom rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, “Did you like it?” You saw the light blush on Yugyeom’s face, and you smiled softly nodding your head. “C-can we cuddle?” You opened your arms and Yugyeom crawled up the bed so that he was laid beside you. You moved down and laid your head on Yugyeom’s chest. You played with the necklace that is in front of you and Yugyeom ran the tips of his fingers along the length of your arm. You could hear Yugyeom’s heartbeat and felt the subtle rise and fall of his chest. You gripped the necklace on his chest as tears burned your eyes, “…I’m sorry Y/N.” Yugyeom’s voice rumbled under you as the warmth of his words heated your skin. “I know we’re both tired…it isn’t fair of me to compare our jobs. I see how hard you work.”

Tears leaked from your eyes and soaked into Yugyeom’s clean white shirt. Silent, Yugyeom wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. You cleared your throat and shook your head, “Sorry for acting so childish…”

“It’s not childish to ask for help.”

“N-not that…” You made a vague motion towards the speaker and Yugyeom laughed.

“I don’t mind it,” Yugyeom shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes I am an ain’t shit guy.”

You laughed as Ain’t Shit by Doja Cat played. “Sorry, Yugyeom…”

Yugyeom kissed the top of your head and sighed, “Can we start over tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow sounds good.”

#soc writes #kim yugyeom #got7 yugyeom #soc yugyeom #black!reader #interracial relationship #petty #soc got7 #yugyeom x y/n #exqueuese me #got7 #yugyeom

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youcantbesirius · 2 years

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Breathe me in | S.B.

Warnings: roommates au, smutty smut, breeding kink, cockwarming, masochism, overstimulation, somnophilia (sex while one is asleep)

Summary: Sirius knows damn well how his girl likes it

A/N: At the end of this you will come across gifs that explain what I feel for Ben Barnes

Sirius let a out puff of smoke while browsing through the channels on his TV. It was quite late, 2:30 am, yet he was restless. His mind drifting to the peacefully asleep figure on the bed in the next room. He took out the cigar silencing the TV so he could hear anything out of the ordinary. Nothing, pure silence. He stood up slowly and silently reaching the door of the other room. It was something he couldn't explain, the rush of his blood when he would use her in your asleep form and you waking up on his member, both of you shared love for it. So there he was, watching you sleep, the only light showing your figure was the moonlight that came from the big wall window behind your bed. Sirius licked his lip, taking in your position, one knee bent, on your stomach, hands under the pillow, ass in the air. Perfect.

He slowly crawled up the bed his crotch nestling in the space between your legs while leaving the trail of wet kisses on your back. He sat on his knees between your legs looking at your hipster lace panties. His hands ghosted over your ass cheeks while slowly moving your panties with his index finger to the side. Spitting on his hand he moved it up and down your slit. He found it amazing how your body reacted to his touch.

He shuffled out of his boxers entering you slowly. He gritted his teeth at how warm and tight you were, so good it took a breath out of him. Gripping your cheeks he rutted his hips into you with force. He loved your soft whimpers and content sighs you left while he was doing this.

Your blinked s few times feeling the pressure building up. You looked back seeing Sirius who leaned down kissing the soul out of you.

"Mhmmmm Siri" you moaned against his lips.

Damn, you loved that feeling. You loved it when you were waking up feeling the knot tighten while his hand wrapped around your neck arching your back.

"I'm gunna-" you mumbled against his lips earning a growl from him.

"No, hold it" he bit on your bottom lip pulling it.

His other hand found your clit rubbing the already swollen bundle of nerves. He loved the sight of having your legs shake. You cried out.

"Aaaah fuck it's too much" you sobbed out.

He knew how to make you cum with only playing with your clit.

"If it is the case princess, you only have to say the word" he pecked your lips "fuck, I'm close, come on baby, on 3, 1...2....3"

You both came, your body shook in his arms. He pulled out only briefly to switch positions,now your front wad pressed tightly against his, your head resting on his chest while his cock was burried deep inside of you.

"Gotta keep in in there love, make sure you are full of my babies" he caressed you cheek looking at you being a sensitive whimpering mess.

"What do you say, huh? Want to swell with my babies?" He asked

"Y-yes, s-sir" you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"God I love it when you look at me like that" he kissed you passionately.

"What do you say we start sharing a room?" He looked deep into your eyes.

You couldn't help but chuckle "is this your way of making us official" it seemed like the subspace was letting of you but still you wanted to cockwarm him.

"Yeah" he laughed kissing your temple.

"Okay, but you have to stop smoking in the room, it stinks" you peppered his face with kisses.

"Anything for you, darling" he chucked.

"Let's sleep, James and Lily are bringing Harry over tomorrow" he said moving to pull out.

"NO! I mean stay inside me, I want Harry of my own" you faked stern grimace earning a breathy laugh from him.

"Or Harriette" he winked.

"As long as it's ours" you kissed him lovingly "goodnight, Siri"

"Goodnight, angel"

#sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Someone to Drive ch.3 (standalone)

Summary: The road trip continues!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Melancholy, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Developing Relationship

Part 1 | Part 2

~*~

Read Part 3 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Learning to sleep whenever and however he could was a skill Edge picked up when he was still a child living on the streets of New Home. If he needed any proof that he was getting out of practice, waking up stiff and aching in the back of his car certainly qualified. Dawn sunlight was pouring in through the side window, muted through the tinted glass and Edge bit back a groan as he struggled to sit up despite his grumbling joints.

Next to him, Stretch was still asleep, his face scrunching unhappily at the disturbance. He looked so very young, the circles under his sockets finally diminishing. Edge didn’t question the absurd tenderness welling in his soul. He only tucked the blanket closer around Stretch before opening the side door and sliding out to the pavement.

At this hour, there were only a few other cars around them and Edge took the time to go into the rest area to the bathrooms. He splashed cold water on his face, ignored the startled curse of the man who came out of one of the stalls and caught sight of him.

There were several vending machines and Edge dug out enough change to purchase two cups of coffee, watching the cup drop down to fill with steaming brew. It smelled like burnt rubber and tasted nearly the same. Edge drank half his cup anyway on his way back out to the car.

Stretch was awake or something like it, sitting up with the tangle of blankets in his lap as he yawned and scratched away any sleepy itches. The fly of his pants was still open and there was sliver of pale bone visible above the blankets, the curve of an iliac crest and lower. Edge discretely looked away. As easy as it had been to fall into each other the night before, any implied permissions evaporated in the glaring light of day. He waited as Stretch gathered himself and straightened his clothes. When he was slightly less disheveled, he turned to Edge and his eye lights brightened as he caught sight of the coffee.

“is that drinkable?” He nodded hopefully at the cup.

“Barely,” Edge said and held it out. The tarry aftertaste didn’t seem to bother Stretch, he drained the cup and licked the rim. The sight of his bright orange tongue made warmth stir in Edge’s soul along with memory and he coughed to conceal it, sliding into the driver’s side seat.

Stretch didn’t bother getting out, instead crawling over the middle console with his shoes in hand, knees and elbows bumping as he settled into the passenger’s side. Normally it would have irritated Edge, he couldn’t say why it didn’t this time. Stretch folded his long legs into the footwell, awkwardly curling up to slide on his shoes and watched curiously as Edge opened the GPS app on his phone.

“we headed someplace specific?” Stretch asked. It was the closest they’d come so far to discussing a destination. He didn’t seem terribly concerned about it.

“We are,” Edge focused on the rearview mirror as he backed out.

“huh, must’ve been some dreams last night if they gave you directions.”

The tone was light, teasing. Once, there might have been a veiled insult in those words. Or maybe not, maybe it was only Edge, who was so ready for abuse to be hurled his way when they first came to the surface that he interpreted far too much as a slight. “No dreams. I simply don’t plan on sleeping in the car again tonight.”

Stretch hummed agreeably and settled into his seat. He didn’t ask where and Edge didn’t offer, only pulled out onto the highway with the soothing voice of Siri guiding him.

He did have a destination in mind. As he was leaving the rest area, Edge had walked past a wall of brochures, bright advertisements for sightseeing and overpriced entertainment. He might have ignored them entirely, except for one with oversized letters that caught his eye, a tourist town that purported to be Monster-friendly. A quick google search confirmed it. It seemed as good a place as any to stop and better than some.

There were no games today, only the radio playing and Stretch occasionally singing along, louder than he had the day before as if he was less concerned with Edge’s reaction. Perhaps that was a reasonable assumption to make, considering the night before. Edge still didn’t know what to make of it and he was reluctant to ask, to do anything that ruin the easy camaraderie of the drive.

It didn’t have to mean anything, it would hardly be his first one night stand, only his first with someone whose name he was certain of. Better not to think of it right now, something that proved more difficult than he’d expected.

When they stopped for gas, Stretch went into the station for snacks and while he was gone, Edge took a moment to tidy the back of the car, putting the seats up and folding the blanket. He caught a whiff of sweetness as he folded it and banishing the flood of memory was not made easier by Stretch coming back out of the station at precisely that moment with a plastic bag swinging from his long fingers. He’d stripped off his sweatshirt earlier and was only wearing a white undershirt, the outline of his ribcage visible through the thin cotton. They’d been unseen last night in the dark of the car, learned only by touch, glossy smooth and delicate, and the sound Stretch made when the cartilage between his ribs and his sternum was gently teased—

Edge swallowed hard and looked away, focusing far too much on folding the blanket precisely. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed Stretch’s attractiveness, but it was the first time noticing came with possibility.

Stretch didn’t seem to notice his attempt at distraction. Nor did he notice the stares of the Humans as he sang out, “got the goods, edgelord, water, juice, and the best snackies. got you a better coffee, too, just how you like it, black as your—” he faltered, and Edge knew without it being spoken what he intended to say: as black as your soul. Nothing more than a flippant remark, he’d heard Humans say the same thing with casual disregard to the importance souls to Monsters. Stretch was not ignorant to their importance; he should know better.

It was a fast way to cool the faint flush of his arousal, Edge thought absently as he finished folding the blanket. Stretch wasn’t silent long, he rallied quickly, instead finishing with, “—as a burnt marshmallow in a power outage.”

His smile was easy as he held out cup. His eye lights were not, overlarge and anxious, afraid that he’d broken the peaceful spell between them.

Edge took the cup from him and said lightly, “I feel less like that’s a simile and more like one of your cooking attempts.”

Stretch’s laugh was tinged with relief. “eh, they taste better burnt, anyway. especially if you don’t use scented candles, believe me, no one likes ‘fresh linen’ marshmallows, and i mean nobody.”

Crisis averted, they both got back into the car and headed out, the GPS guiding their path. Edge’s first sip of coffee was a pleasant surprise, particularly for being from a gas station. It tasted as if it came from a fresh pot, one made as recently as five minutes ago. As if someone requested it fresh and there were possibilities there, too, not as tempting as the ones the night before, but still. Edge didn’t think about them too closely, not now, and when a song came up on the radio that he knew, he tentatively joined Stretch in singing along to it.

His voice wasn’t anything as good, but Stretch’s widening grin said that he didn’t mind, the two of them joining in on the chorus on how they were going to ride the highway all night long.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #standalone

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mischiefhasbeenmanaged · 3 years

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Come Walk with Me

Marauders era, Pre-Hogwarts

Trigger Warning: implied family issues, arranged marriage,arguing/fighting

Part 1

Sirius ran down the wooden stairs, ignoring his mother’s sharp reprimands as he approached the stone door. He kicked it open and ran outside, the sound of his mother’s scolds lingering in the background. He sprinted into the large yard to join his cousins and brother, who were playing out by the rocks. This is where they typically would always play together and on occasion they would even dip their feet in the small stream back there. Having just sat in his room alone for hours on end (for getting himself into trouble)he was in a sour mood. He felt a surge of happiness and cheer as the warm air filled his nostrils and the smell of grass and flowers surrounded him. Sirius began to slow his speed as he came closer to everyone. His uplift of energy disappeared as soon as he saw who was accompanying his cousins. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange stood there, making eye contact with Sirius-the last two people Sirius wanted to see today. It’s not that they had ever done anything to Sirius-it was just their demenor and attitude that made Sirius dislike them. He sucked in a breath and approached the group quietly, unsure of what to say. He grimaced and held his gaze to the ground, looking at a small bug crawling in the grass.

“Sirius is here!” He heard someone yell, and within a second Andromeda was pulling his hand over to where she was standing, telling him to sit down on the rock with her. Sirius obliged and turned to her. “I would’ve been here sooner-“

“Guess what?” Andromeda interrupted, giving him a wide smile. She seemed unable to control her excitement as her swung her legs back and forth and looked at him with big eyes.

“What?” He asked looking over at the Lestrange boys. Andromeda’s face broke out into a smile again as she hopped off the rock and began jumping up and down.

“Rab and I are going to get married! Right now!” She said giggling. Her face slowly fell when she saw Sirius’ frown and his confusion. She frowned as her hands fell by her side, upset with his response.

“Huh? Why?” He asked looking over again at the brothers. Sirius was beyond confused. He distracted himself by looking around at the scene in front of him. He noticed Bellatrix talking to the older brother, Rodolphus.

Andromeda gave a small smile and looked down at the ground. “Because Bellatrix heard Mummy and Daddy talking and Rab and I are going to be married when we’re older...but we wanted to do something now!” She reached for Sirius hand, hoping this explanation would make him happy.

Sirius pursed his lips. “Why would you want to marry him? He’s mean”.

“But...he can be nice..and he’ll be able to buy me all the ponies I want” she said matter of factly. She looked at him with that same smile and big eyes. Sirius let go of Andromeda’s hand and walked over to the Lestrange brothers, who were standing a bit in front of them.

“Sirius! Mummy and Daddy said Bellatrix is going to marry Rodolphus one day! And Andy is going to marry Rabastan! Isn’t that wonderful?” Narcissa exclaimed, looking at him with her big blue eyes.

“I think it’s stupid”. Sirius said. Bellatrix strode closer to Sirius and looked down at him.

“Nobody cares what you think. I imagine your parents will be betrothing you soon as well” she said crossing her arms. Sirius rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her when she wasn’t looking.

“Are we almost ready? I’m bored,” Regulus yawned from his spot over by a large rock.

“We’ve been ready. We were waiting for dear Sirius,” Bellatrix smirked, giving Sirius a look.

Rodolphus began to take charge and tell people what to do. Regulus and Sirius made “rings” out of tree branches and the girls went inside to find Andromeda a veil-which ended up being a napkin attached to a headband. When the girls returned Andromeda was in a poofy pink dress with little sparkling heels. She came close to losing her balance on the way over, but Bellatrix had caught her and helped her walk over by holding her arm.

“You look silly” Sirius said to Andromeda as Bellatrix fixed her “veil” and put it over her eyes.

“You’re supposed to tell me I look beautiful” Andromeda said, giving a small pout. Sirius laughed at her and moved the napkin out of her face.

“I can’t even see you” he said, giving her a small grin. Sirius watched as they made their “preparations” and Rabastan and Rodolphus stood by a large rock, telling the rest of them to back up and then walk to them.

“Sirius I want you to walk with me!” Andromeda squealed, taking his hand in hers.

“Daddy is supposed to walk with you Andromeda and-“

“Well Daddy’s not here, Bellatrix. Besides, Sirius wants to right Siri?” She asked looking up at him. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and put the napkin back over Andromeda face.

“Your veil..also needs to stay like that until you get to Rabastan” she said as she began to walk forward.

Sirius held onto her hand and began to follow Bellatrix.

“I can’t see,” Andromeda said frowning.

Sirius held her hand tighter and walked slowly to make sure she wouldn’t fall.

“It’s okay, I’m right here” he said continuing to walk forward. He glanced at her every so often, making sure she was alright. Surprisngly, she made it all the way to the Lestrange brothers without losing her balance once.

“Now what?” Sirius asked dropping her hand.

“Take off her veil!” Narcissa whispered, pointing to the napkin over Andromeda’s face. Sirius stood on his tippy toes and tried to carefully take the napkin off of the handband she was wearing. He stuffed the napkin in his pocket-unsure of what to do with it.

“And now?” He asked again, showing slight annoyance.

“You give her to Rabastan,” Bellatrix said simply.

“Why?” He asked, showing confusion.

“Because they’re getting married you twat!” Bellatrix yelled. Sirius rolled his eyes at her and took a hold of Andromeda’s hand again, walking her over to where Rabastan was standing, next to his brother Rodolphus. He let go of her hand and went to stand behind Andromeda, still staying close to her.

“Sirius come over here with us!” Regulus whispered, motioning for him to come over.

“I’ll stand where I want,” Sirius mumbled, looking at Rabastan Lestrange. Rodolphus was talking but Sirius wasn’t paying attention, he was too busy watching Andromeda and Rabastan. Regulus soon walked over carrying the twig “rings”. Andromeda and Rabastan each took one and Sirius watched as Andromeda slid the twig onto Rabastan’s finger. “I do,” she said confidently giving a big smile. Rabastan slid the twig he was holding onto her finger and Andromeda pulled back.

“Ow!” She exclaimed, taking it off and rubbing the small scratch on her finger. Her eyes filled with tears as she held her finger.

“You hurt her! Why would you do that?” Sirius exclaimed, walking up to Rabastan Lestrange.

“It was an accident, she’s fine,” Rabastan said looking to his brother. Sirius crossed his arms and bit his lip.

“Now...we kiss..,” Rabastan said looking at Andromeda.

“Ew Andromeda! Do not kiss him!” Sirius shrieked, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. Andromeda looked at Rabastan and lifted her jaw. “We will save our kiss for the real wedding,” she said simply, looking at the ground. Rabastan nodded and leaned over to give her a small kiss on the cheek. Bellatrix, Narcissa and Regulus began to clap and cheer while Sirius looked away and tried to hide the anger coming out of him. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

“Now what?” He said looking at Rodolphus.

Rabastan was the one who answered, dropping Amdromeda’s hand he turned himself to look at Sirius.

“Now we do everything together,” he said in a flat voice.

“We even live together!” Andromeda exclaimed grabbing Rabastan’s hand and looking up at him. Sirius felt as though he hit a wall.

“What? What do you mean? But we-we were supposed to play dragons tonight after dinner Andy...are you not going to be there?” Sirius asked in a panic stricken voice.

“Of course I will!” She smiled walking over to him. “It’s just a game Sirius,” she said casually, taking off her shoes and headband.

“But one day you will really marry him- and then what?” Sirius asked with tears brimming his eyes. Andromeda stood next to him, looking at the ground, unsure of what to say.

“One day it won’t be a game. It will be real”.

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nothingeverlost · 4 years

Text

The One You’re Born into and the One You Find (Marauder Era HP fic)

Thing I was not planning to do this week: write 10,000 words about Sirius Black. He’s an insistent muse, though, so a little drabble about him and Andromeda talking as now a full blown fic about the time Sirius ran away from home.

Summery: Sirius runs away and finds out something about home.

Warnings for references to abuse/torture.

It’s two days before Christmas when Sirius Black leaves Grimmauld Place for the last time. His first impulse is to go to the Potter home, but he can’t, not with his mother’s voice in his head, the threats and ugly things she’s said. He can’t risk that she might follow through with her promises. It’s not safe. Besides, James would owl Peter and Remus, and he needs to keep them safe too.

Perhaps it would be best to take a room above the Three Broomsticks, but after a week of cold silence from his family he can’t take any more isolation. There’s only one place he can think of to go.

“Sirius?” Warm light floods the front stoop when the door opens. In the doorway stands his cousin, the only person that might understand what it means to be a disinherited Black.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a sofa I could crash on for a day or two, would you ‘Dromeda?” They’ve barely talked in years; the last time was the summer before Fifth year when they both happened to be at Diagon Alley. He’d been with his friends, his parents not wanting to be seen with their son who was buying a new Gryffindor uniform, ‘Dromda with her husband. He’d been eight when she’d been struck off the family tree, but she would always be his favorite cousin. His only cousin, now.

“Nonsense. You’ll take the guest room. I hope your silencing charms are up to par; our Nymphadora is an early riser.” She holds the door open wide for him, enough so he can levitate his trunk into the house. He’s not sure about accepting the room, though.

“Mother is going to be angry if she finds out you took me in. I really only need a day or two so I can figure things out.” He needs a lot more than a couple of days but he wasn’t about to ask for more. It isn’t fair to her.

“Auntie has been angry with me for almost a decade now. I’m a blood traitor, after all. It doesn’t get much worse than marrying a muggle-born. You’ll stay as long as you need.” Andromeda doesn’t roll her eyes, she wouldn’t stoop to something so immature, but Sirius can almost see it anyway. “Now shut the door behind you and come into the kitchen. Ted is cleaning up but there’s plenty of leftovers and I’m sure you’re hungry. Left before dinner, didn’t you?”

“During, but I didn’t eat anything.” There had been company, people that made Sirius’s skin crawl. His father had spoken so casually of his son joining The Cause, only debating if he should wait to finish his education or begin during the coming summer. Perhaps, Orion Balck had speculated, his position in Gryffindor could end up being a blessing in disguise. No one would expect a Death Eater under the scarlet and gold robes.

“You’re in luck. Ted made his beef stew and it’s just the thing for a cold evening like this.” She doesn’t say, but they both understand, that ‘cold’ refers to more than the weather. “Ted, my love, we’ve company.”

“Cousin Sirius, what a treat. Welcome.” Sirius is surprised by the warm welcome and the following hug. Perhaps he shouldn’t be; Ted Tonks is a muggle and a Hufflepuff, after all, but the only person he knows who is so open is James.

“Do you mind reheating some of your stew, Ted? Siri hasn’t had dinner. I’ll put Dora to bed.”

“Her hair is pink.” Sirius has almost forgotten that there was a kid. His family doesn’t acknowledge the marriage let alone the child, and kids aren’t really his thing. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen a kid younger than eleven. Andromeda’s daughter is a lot smaller than a first year. Not as shy as they were either, as she climbs up on a chair to get a better look at the stranger in her house.

“Play?’ Sirius is pretty sure the tips of her hair darkened.

“Nymphadora, this is your cousin Sirius. You can play with him tomorrow but now it’s time for bed.”

“See-us.” The little girl wrinkles up her nose as she tests out the name. “See-e-us.”

“My friends call me Padfoot sometimes.” It might be easier to say. No one in his family considered easy names, it seemed. Not ever his cousin. Nymphadora, really?

“Padfoot play?” She spreads her arms and jumps, leaving Sirius with no choice but to catch her. She is a little thing, with less force than a bludger, but she squirms a lot.

“Tomorrow,” Andromeda says firmly, helping to free Sirius from arms that seemed to be longer than they should be. “I’ll be back down after storytime, Sirius. Don’t worry about your trunk, I’ll take it up to your room. Ted will show you where the drinks are. There might even be a bit of firewhiskey to add to the butterbeer.”

His mother would be horrified to see him eating in the kitchen like a common person or a house elf. The Tonks kitchen is a warm and comfortable room, though, and Sirius is glad to sit with Ted, who is keeping an eye on the cleaning charms. They share a drink and Sirius empties a bowl of stew and accepts the second helping Ted gives him It wasn’t like the food was bad at Grimmauld Place; it was the company that robbed him of his appetite. He is too used to laughter and teasing and camaraderie as he eats with his mates at school, and out of practice choking down food under his mother’s sour expression and his father’s ranting.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you, Ted.” He is halfway through his second bowl when he finally looks up at his companion. He doesn’t know much about the man, other than the fact he was muggle-born, a Hufflepuff, and married to his cousin.

“Nonsense, you’re family. It’s a rare treat for Andi to get to have family around. You know what it’s like.” Ted frowns.

“She’s lucky she got out when she did.” Just this past summer the engagement between Cisssa and Malfoy had been announced. The only good thing Sirius could say is that he wasn’t quite as disgusting as Bella’s husband. The talk of pure blood had gotten worse at family dinners and words like ‘cleanse’ and ‘purify’ were tossed around more. “They don’t bother you, do they?”

“Ignore us completely, which is probably for the best. It’s not easy on Andi when we run into any of them in public, though. We saw Narcissa when we were at Gringotts last and she wouldn’t even look at our Dora. I don’t think Bellatrix has even seen her.”

“Best to keep it that way. She’s gone mental. More mental than she used to be. And her husband…” Sirius bites his tongue to keep from saying more. He didn’t need to talk about Rabistan LeStrange. Didn’t need to think about him, or what he was capable of. One time alone with the man had been one time too many; he still had bruises on his arm from their ‘conversation’ three days ago. “If you’re lucky they’ll forget about you completely.”

“Your turn, Ted. Dora’s tucked in and ready for her story.” Sirius is almost done with his second bowl of stew when Andromeda comes down, turning off the water in the sink as the last of the dishes dry themselves. She settles into the seat her husband had occupied moments ago. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“What’s the point? It’s over and I’m never going back. I’ve probably been blasted off that damn tapestry already.” It had been his mother’s last threat as he’d left as if the worst thing that could happen was being disowned by the family that hated not only him but everything he cared about.

“Walking away from family isn’t that easy. I know.” For a moment she looks lost in memories before shaking her head.

“Family doesn’t…” Sirius clenches his hands around the edge of the table. He doesn’t talk about the things that happened in his home, not even to James. Andromeda would understand more than anyone else, but that doesn’t make it easier to speak. “They’re not my family. I have James and Remus and Peter.”

“You have me and Ted too.” Andromeda reaches across the table and covers one of his hands with her own. “It’s two more weeks until term starts. You’ll stay here and we can take you to the train.”

“I wasn’t planning on staying that long.” He hasn’t planned anything but thought perhaps he might be able to leave for school sooner. Hogwarts would be safe.

“You’re staying. It’s Christmas, Sirius. And if you’re worried about earning your keep you don’t have to worry. Dora will adore having a new friend and you can pay us back in imaginary tea parties.”

Exhausted, Sirius falls asleep almost the moment he turns off the light in the guest bedroom. It doesn’t last; a few hours later he comes awake abruptly, gasping his way out of a dream. He fumbles for his wand, casting a ‘Lumos’ as he sits up. He needs to be sure he doesn’t fall asleep again, not while the dream slithers inside his mind.

He barely noticed the bedroom when his cousin had escorted him up, beyond noting that his trunk was under the window. Everything he owned was in his trunk, and he only had that much because he’d never unpacked it when he’d gotten home for winter hols. He’d gone up, grabbed it and his broom, and had been heading for the front door before anyone could stop him. There hadn’t been any time to get Freddie, his owl, from the family owlery. He hoped his mother didn’t take out any of her anger on poor Freddie.

The room, now that he can focus better, is as different as it was possible to be from the bedroom he’d abandon hours ago. Instead of grey walls and antique furniture that had been passed down for generations, the walls were painted a pale yellow and the bed was new. The quilt he’d been sleeping under seemed handmade, a patchwork of mismatched colors that would never earn his mother’s approval. On the wall across from the bed is a painting of the shore, waves gently lapping at the sand. It reminds him of a trip he’d taken with the Potters the summer between fourth and fifth years; Remus had joined them as well, though Peter hadn’t been allowed to come. It wasn’t home - the only home he knew being his dorm at Hogwarts - but it was a cheerful and cozy space.

He hoped his presence didn’t make it an unsafe place. While his mother had been the loudest with her threats it was harder to guess what recourse his father might take. Or his father’s friends. He would run again if he needed to. Sirius resolved not to unpack his trunk in case any threats were made. If anyone in his family so much as sent an owl he’d be off.

It’s dark outside his bedroom window, enough that he can’t make out anything in the back garden. The moon wasn’t much more than a sliver, which was good. It would be two weeks until Remus would need him. If he was still with Andromeda and Ted by then he could make an excuse for going back to school early. Until then he would lie low and hope that his family decided he was no longer worth any of their time.

After an hour of trying to go back to sleep, Sirius transforms and curls up at the foot of the bed. Sometimes it is easier to sleep for a few hours as Padfoot; he would just have to hope his cousin didn’t ask about the black fur.

Someone is trying to suffocate him. His mouth is covered, his lungs straining for want of oxygen. He can hear Bella’s laughter and see the cold steel of his mother’s eyes. Behind her, Regulus looked ill.

“Ge-off,” Sirius struggles to open his mouth, to take in a breath, and almost chokes on a piece of bacon. He blinks and opens his eyes to find that he isn’t in Grimmauld Place. He’s in Andromeda’s guest room, and he is chewing on a piece of bacon.

“Breakfast.” Nymphadora’s hair is blue this morning and she is holding out a piece of bacon between two chubby fingers. “Welcome.”

“Thank you?” He can’t think of anything else to say. Waking up to find a kid staring at him is odd, but it was a million times better than anything that had happened the day before.

“Dora, where are you?” The door to the hallway is open; apparently the kid was old enough to open doors because Sirius had closed it the night before. He can’t sleep when a door is open, it felt too vulnerable. At home he locked the door, even knowing that wouldn’t really stop anyone. At school he was grateful for the curtains around the bed. Here the door was now open and Ted was coming in, shaking his head. “Sorry about that, mate. Did she wake you?”

“I’d rather be awake.” Memories weren’t quite as bad as dreams.

“Breakfast is ready if you’d like to join us, I promise you can eat at your own pace, and not worry about this little scamp trying to feed you more. You’re lucky it was just bacon. She might have decided you were thirsty.” Ted grins, an easy expression that reminds him a little of James. His best friend’s smile comes easily too. Sirius wonders if Ted’s parents were also as wonderful as the Potters.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” He’s only slept in his pants and waits until Ted had scooped up his daughter and taken her out of the room, closing the door behind him, before getting out of bed so he could dress.

Breakfast was as good as any meal he’d had at Hogwarts. Ted, apparently, did all the cooking in the family. His cousin had learned as much cooking as he had, which meant nothing at all. Pureblood snobs were supposed to have house elves to tend to their needs, rather than actually learning anything practical. Ted cooked the muggle way, and his scones were good enough that Sirius had three. He eats some bacon too, as well as quiche.

His plan for the day is to hole up in the guest room. It was Christmas Eve and he didn’t want to interfere with the holiday for his cousin’s family. Christmas wasn’t a big deal anyway; he loves the traditions he shares with his friends before the holidays but generally spent the day itself being miserable. Andromeda has other ideas.

Once breakfast is over and the dishes are put away she pulls out flour, butter, sugar, eggs, and a mass of sprinkles. Sirius somehow finds himself rolling out dough and cutting out cookies, often with the ‘help’ of Dora. Once the first batch cooled he is in charge of frosting while Dora added three times as many sprinkles as anyone would call normal. Somehow there was frosting in his hair and he is certain that his fingers would be red and green for longer than they were the last time he’d ‘accidentally’ snuck dye into James’s shampoo, but it is the most fun he’s had on a Christmas Eve in years. When he makes one of the frosted snowmen dance across the table Dora laughs and then viciously bites his head off. It was then that Andromeda decides it is time for Dora’s nap.

While Andromeda is putting her daughter down for a nap Sirius takes the opportunity to escape. No matter what they say Ted and Andromeda deserved to have at least part of the day to themselves, and he can use a walk. When staying with his parents long walks were about the only thing that kept him sane. The walls of his childhood home were oppressive on the best of days. Dangerous on the worst. His cousin’s house was nowhere near the old neighborhood where his parents live, but the moment he’s gone a few blocks from the house he realizes how exposed he is. If anyone sees him it wouldn’t be hard to make the connection to the Tonks family. On his own he doesn’t have anyone to watch his back and it would be easy enough for a couple of people to drag him home. Would his father have any interest in forcing him home? Making him bow and scrape, making him swear an oath of fidelity?

“I’m not going back there,” he swears to himself, walking faster. He looks at each alley he passes, half expecting to see someone he should fear, half looking for a plan of escape. All he would need was a moment out of sight; no one would know to look for Padfoot once he transformed.

“Sirius?” At the sound of his name he turns, wand already raised and a disarming spell on his lips.

“Thought that was you.” Frank Longbottom looks curiously at his wand but shrugs. “Don’t usually see you on this side of town, mate. Enjoying your holiday?”

“It’s alright. Just stopped by to see a friend,” he lies. Fortunately, he has a lot of practice at lying. Frank is a nice enough sort, a year ahead of him in school. Rumor was he was all set for the Auror program after graduation. That didn’t mean that Sirius was about to trust him completely. He didn’t trust anyone completely except the Mauraders.

“Alice lives around the corner. We had lunch with the family. Her dad has to warm to me eventually, or at least that’s the hope. Not so pleased about the half muggle status, that one.”

“Screw him,” Sirius growls with more force than he meant. He is so tired of the hate against muggle-borns, half muggles, and his most hated word, ‘half breeds.’ His father was of the opinion that the only good werewolf was either a dead one or a vicious pet, and had talked at length during Tuesday night’s dinner about a need for more regulations to protect against monsters. His father’s definition of a monster is very different from his own.

“It’s important to Alice.” Frank was so mild-mannered it was sometimes a surprise that he was a Gryffindor. Then again Pete was pretty affable too. He’d seen Frank’s reaction, though, when a Slytherin was scaring a first-year Hufflepuff. Frank hadn’t been mild-mannered then. “He’s not a bad bloke, just set in his ways. Not like, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Not like his family or the loony bin they kept marrying into. Still, he had no patience for any of it. It didn’t matter if he’d never met Mr. Fortesque, he already didn’t like the man.

They walk a bit farther, not talking of anything important until they reached a row of muggle shops and Sirius mentions stopping to pick out some gifts.

“A bit last minute, aren’t you Sirius?” Frank teases.

“Same way I get my essays done,” he says with a shrug. The truth is he spent as much time plotting his gifts as he did some of his most elaborate pranks, and he’d gotten gifts for his fellow Marauders before school had even started. Other than sending something to James’s parents they were the only gifts he had to worry about. Even in better days his parents had not held with gifts for Christmas. He’d be a prat if he didn’t at least have something under the tree for his cousins this year, though. Fortunately he still had some muggle money from a trip to muggle London he and James had gone on during the summer.

He returns to Andromeda’s an hour later with a cookbook for Ted by a muggle named Julia Childs that the shopkeep had assured him anyone who liked cooking would enjoy and a stuffed dog for the sprog. It was black and not unlike his own secret form, which amused him. His cousin was harder, but when he’d walked past an antique shop he’d found a little painting of an owl. It looked like the one Andromeda had when she was a girl; Sirius could remember visiting and seeing his cousin petting the bird, whispering to it softly. Bella had rolled her eyes. It was a muggle painting so it didn’t move, but Sirius thought Andromeda might at least appreciate the sentiment.

“Sirius Black what do you mean by vanishing for hours without even saying that you’re leaving?” Andromeda is every inch a Black when she appears in the hall just moments after he enters the house. Her jaw is firmly set, chin lifted at just the right angle to make it feel like she looked down her nose at him despite being half a head shorter. For a moment he is reminded of her mother, and then his own.

Shite.

“I thought you could use some time without an intruder around. Christmas Eve traditions and all that.” It had started snowing as he’d walked back from the shops. Sirius tries to distract himself by brushing the snow off one shoulder. Regulus had given him the same look that Andromeda was giving him now, just a few days ago when he’d said the only right side of any fight was standing against everything the family stood for.

“Great. Lovely. So I guess if my sister’s friends had seen you and decided to hex you into the new year it wouldn’t have mattered to me because at least I had a nice afternoon away from my ungrateful little cousin?” She glares at him in a way he hadn’t seen since he’d been seven and had used the essay she’d left in the study to make paper airplanes that had magically flown themselves.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone you let me stay here.” He’s had enough experience with Cruciatus to know that he would be able to keep at least that secret.

“You think that’s what concerns me?” she asks incredulously before her crossed arms fall to her side and she deflates. “Merlin, they did a number on us, didn’t they? Our family. Toujours pur but jamais fidèle. I was worried about you, Siri. You haven’t told me what happened but I know enough the guess. I’m not totally unaware of what’s happening with my sisters and their social circle.”

“I know how to take care of myself.” For a moment he hears the shadow of another argument, weeks earlier with Remus. They had been fighting about the full moon and returning to school early so they could be there for him. He tells himself it’s not the same thing.

“Of course you do. Another lesson we learned well.” Andromeda takes a step forward and brushes the snow off his other shoulder. “I know family is a pretty complicated word for both of us but you are my family Sirius. I care what happens to you.”

“Does it ever get easier?” He wants to ask if he would always hate them this much. If he would always carry around the hard ball of anger that sometimes threatened to choke him. Would he always feel the guilt in leaving Reggie behind, not even trying to stop him from becoming the son his father wanted? Would he ever stop mourning the family he never had? He has a hundred questions but doubts there are really any answers.

“I remember when I heard you’d been sorted into Griffindor. Auntie was so angry. There was talk of sending you to Durmstrang, but they decided against it because of the way it might look. The first time I saw you that winter you were in Zonko’s with your mate James, and you were laughing. I don’t know how you’d gotten permission to be there without your parents but you looked so happy. I knew then that the sorting hat had changed something that couldn’t be changed back. I think it’s already better. It doesn’t go away, we can’t change where we came from, but it’s better than what could have been.”

“I remember that trip. Mum thought the Potter connection could be useful.” The Potters were purebloods, and rich, but in every other way as different from the Blacks as it was possible to be. “You brought us ice creams after the joke shop.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to do that more often.”

“Mum would have hated knowing we spent any time together.” He’d missed his cousin, but there had always been an extra thrill knowing his mother would disapprove. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left without saying anything.”

“You’re wanted here, alright?” They don’t hug, not in their family, but Sirus has learned it from his mates and Andromeda from her husband. It is a quick hug, but heartfelt. Afterwards Sirius drops his packages off under the tree and finds that on the mantle there was now a fourth stocking, one with his name on it.

Christmas is a quiet day, or as quiet as it can be when a three-year-old has a newly acquired broom that hovers a foot off the floor. The stuffed dog he’s picked out, who somehow has been dubbed ‘Spot’ despite being solid black, has a place of honor on the broom and only falls off six times. The snow from the night before has left a fresh powder on the ground, and the afternoon is spent building a snowman that briefly joins them in an animated game of tag thanks to some clever wand work from Andromeda.

To say it is the best Christmas Day he’s ever had isn’t saying a lot, considering what Christmas is like in his family. It is more than a good Christmas, it is a good day. When he watches Dora feed her stuffed dog invisible hot chocolate he can’t help wondering what it would have been to grow up in a family that saw children as something other than an obligation to continue the family line.

“Would you care for a cup of chocolate that’s not invisible?” Andromeda asks once her daughter’s attention is drawn away from their ‘tea’ party. Ted is giving her hippogriff rides.

“Yeah.” He follows her into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while she melts a bar of Honeyduke’s finest into simmering milk. Moony would approve.

“I remember getting my first broom.” His hadn’t been a toy. His parents didn’t believe in toys.

“If memory serves you were six, and the first thing you did was try to stand up on it.” Andromeda laughs as she stirs the chocolate, adding vanilla and a pinch of salt.

“They locked it up for a month after that, until I could promise to be more respectful.” He’d only learned to be more careful, waiting until he was out of view before practicing loops and dives and quidditch moves. It had been his first taste of freedom.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t met Ted. Would I have ever defied the family or would I just have accepted it as my lot? But I never wondered about you, Sirius. Worried, but never doubted that you were meant for something else.”

“You never would have stayed. You’re too good for them.”

The letter comes during breakfast on boxing day. Sirius is so focused on the red envelope that he doesn’t notice the owl at all. He’s been expecting at least a letter for three days now, and his only thought is to snatch the letter and get up to his room before it explodes in his mother’s amplified and shrill voice. No one else needs to hear the hate in her voice.

He is too slow, or the letter is faster than usual. He’s barely taken it from the owl and stood from his chair when it begins to shake. It grows in size, shaking and looking like a firework about to explode before it bursts open.

SIRIUS ORION BLACK YOU GREAT GIT WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?

It takes Sirius a moment to realize that the shooting that fills the small kitchen is not his mother, but his best friend.

YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY OWLS FOR THREE DAYS. I EVEN TRIED FLOOING TO YOUR HOUSE BUT THAT CREEPY HOUSE ELF OF YOUR MOTHER’S ONLY SAID THAT HER MISTRESS HAD GOTTEN RID OF YOU. I’M WORRIED PADFOOT. MUM AND DAD ARE WORRIED. RUMUS SENT ME AN OWL BECAUSE HE THOUGHT MAYBE WE SHOULD TRY GOING TO YOUR HOUSE TO SEE YOU.

“No.” Sirius stares in horror at the envelope as if it can hear him. Remus can’t go anywhere near Grimmauld Place. He’s only let James come once and that was bad enough but at least James comes from a wizarding family almost as old as the Blacks.

RUMUS IS STRESSED ABOUT YOU AND YOU KNOW WHAT HE’S LIKE WHEN HE’S STRESSED. IF WE DON’T HERE FROM YOU IN AN HOUR I AM SENDING HIM AN OWL BACK AND WE ARE GOING TO MAKE A PLAN.

A moment later the howler tears itself to pieces, the confetti burning like ash. The only thing left was the echo in his ears.

“I can’t let Remus go to Grimmauld Place.” He looks at Andromeda.

“Bloody git.” Dora waves a bit of pancake around on the end of her fork, apparently amused by the howler. “Great bloody git.”

“Those are not words for little girls, my love. They’re words for grown-ups who have to deal with problems.” Ted reaches over and picks Dora up from her seat, balancing her on his knee and distracting her with a floating grape. Sirius knows he should probably apologize, but all he can think about is Remus showing up at his parents’ door and them somehow seeing in an instant what it took him two years to figure out.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for any of your friends, but at least if they’re looking for you it rules them out as anyone who knows where you are. It might protect them in the long run.” Andromeda stirs her tea carefully. “Remus is the quieter lad, isn’t he? The one with the nice manners.”

Sirius nods, afraid to open his mouth and say anything about Remus, afraid he might say too much and spill secrets that aren’t his to tell. It has taken months to recover from the Snape Incident. All he knows is that he has to stop any of his friends, but Remus especially, from confronting his parents. The things the Black Family would do if they knew they had a werewolf in their home were unspeakable. “I need to borrow your floo.”

“The floo powder is on the mantle where the stockings were. You’ll let me know if you’re not home for dinner, won’t you?” Sirius nods his promise.

“Your friends are welcome to tea. We’re having bangers and mash,” Ted adds supportively as Sirius carries his dishes to the sink.

“Padfoot play?” Dora asks as he leaves the kitchen. He hopes she won’t be too upset that he’s ignored her request.

A minute later he is in the Potters’ library, startling Fleamont Potter from his post-breakfast nap. A newspaper half covers his face but he pushes it away as he sits up. “Sirius my lad, what a relief. James will feel so much better when he sees you. Last I checked he was pacing the front hall.”

“I’ll go find him.” At least he hadn’t dashed off and done anything stupid; that was Sirius’s job. He doesn’t have far to go far; after walking through the library door he is tackled and might have fallen if he wasn’t so used to the surprise attacks of James Potter. This one involved a hug he couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to.

“If I wasn’t so happy to see you Padfoot I’d punch you and then lock you in a small dark room. Where have you been?” James’ hair was messier than usual, standing on end where he tugged on it when he was nervous or frustrated. The fact that he was wearing shoes was alarming; when he was at home his feet were always bare, so he really was planning on going somewhere. Sirius hates thinking about where that place might have been.

“I’m alright, Prongs.” There is no person on the entire earth that he trusts more than James Potter. His reluctance to mention his cousin was not out of worry.

“Not one peep yesterday from you. Even first year you popped in to say Merry Christmas and last year you came for almost two hours after you got yourself kicked out of dinner. I kept my mirror with me all day yesterday and nothing from you. When I popped into your kitchen the house-elf said…”

“I left.” He shrugs as if it doesn’t mean anything.

“What do you mean, you left? Left the house on Christmas? Can’t imagine that made your mum happy.”

“I left a couple of days ago, actually, and I don’t give a toss what my mother thinks.” He looks down at his shoes, noticing that there was a scuff mark on the left one. “I’m not going back there.”

“What did they do?” His best friend’s voice sounds like fire. Sirius knows that James would go to war against the whole Black family without a single hesitation if he thought that they had hurt Sirius. It is the reason he keeps the worst stories to himself, to protect James. Remus knows more, whispered confidences in the black of night when neither of them can sleep. After all, Remus has his own monsters and knows something about enemies being bred into your blood.

“I’m not going to be one of them, and hate who they tell me to hate, and fight who they tell me to fight.” Rudolphus and Bella have matching tattoos on their arm. At first he’d thought they were a warped couple sort of thing, but then he’d seen the same mark on Narcissa’s finance, and the slithering edge of black ink on his father’s arm when his sleeve hitched up a little.

“Of course you’re not.” James smiles a little, just for a moment, before the smile fades. “Hold up, you said days ago. Where have you been since you left? Pete would have said if you’d been at his place and I know you haven’t seen Remus. Please tell me you haven’t done anything naff like sleep on a bench or take a room at Three Broomsticks.”

“I need to lie low for a bit. I am somewhere safe, I promise.” His mother’s threats ring in his ear, promising that no one that dared offer him sanctuary would be safe.

“You’re safe here.” James snakes a hand around his wrist, dragging him towards the back of the house. “Mum,” he shouts.

“It’s not about my safety.” When the kitchen proves empty James pulls him to the backdoor, through the snowy yard to the greenhouse that is always warm and humid no matter the weather. In the center of the space is a pond where lotus float. Euphemia Potter is kneeling beside her herb bed.

“Mum, Sirius showed up finally and he’s run away from home so he needs a place to stay. He can have the room next to mine, right? Dad can figure out how to handle the guardian stuff so you can sign his school papers and..”

“Prongs, stop. I just came so you didn’t do anything stupid like go to Grimmauld Place. I’m not staying.”

“Don’t be stupid, Pads, of course you’re staying. Right mum?”

“This is always your home, Sirius.” She stands with a grace that his own mother would never be able to emulate, no matter how many centuries of ‘good breeding’ have gone into molding her. Deep purple and gold robes flow around her. Indoors she’s just as apt as her son to have bare feet, but in the garden she wears leather sandals. “Monty and I have been worried about you, dear. It’s good to see that you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry.” The last thing he wants to do is worry his friends or the Potters who are always so kind to him. Without the Potters he wouldn’t know what a real family is supposed to look like, or how lacking his own family really was.

“A mother always worries about her children.” When she touches his arm Sirius has to fight to remain stoic, torn between the wanting to break down and wanting to make a bitter comment that some mothers want nothing more than to eat their own young.

“See, Pads? Mum said you’re staying. Dad will agree and that’s everything sorted. The family barrister can send papers to your…”

“No.” If he lets himself listen to any more it will sound too much like a dream and not having it will hurt all the more. “You’re not listening to me, Jamie. I will see you in two weeks when we go back for term. I need you to let Remus know that I’m safe and that he’s not to go to my parents’ house under any circumstances ever. Let him know that I’ll be at school on Wednesday morning like I promised, okay?”

“Tell him yourself, Pads. You haven’t forgotten how to write a letter in the last week have you?” James stands between him and the door to the greenhouse, arms crossed and ready for a fight. “No, but I don’t have a way to send a letter. I couldn’t bring Freddie with me when I left.” Damn it, he misses his owl. It is the least of his problems, and it’sjust a stupid owl that he ignores too often when he is at school, but when he is home visiting the owlery is often the only good part of his day. No one in his family would deign to sit amoung the birds.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” James sighs. “I’ll write Remus, okay? Or you write to him and use one of our owls. He’s sent me three letters since yesterday and seeing the scrawl you call penmanship would probably do him good.”

“I’ll write to him before I go, alright?”

“Sure, as long as you mean that you’re going to go get your trunk so you can bring it back here. I was thinking we could transform the closet between our rooms into a lounge, maybe with a foosball table or something. Mum’s brill at things like that.”

“Damn it, Prongs, you’re not listening to me.”

“I’m listening, I’m just ignoring you being a dense pratt. This is your home.”

“My mother…”

“Your mother is a miserable bitch and you’re well rid of her. You can share my mum with me, she always wanted more kids and she and dad both love you.” James speaks with the confidence of someone who has always been certain of his place.

“You don’t understand, James. The things she would do if she found out you’d taken me in. The things she might set in motion. My family is full of fucking Death Eaters. My cousin...” But he doesn’t want to think about Bella and what she could do. What she’d hinted that she’d already done, the snake of her tattoo slithering around her wrist. He knew what she could do to someone she wanted as an ally, the echo of pain still in his bones as she tried to make him agree. The war was coming so much quicker than he’d realized. He would protect the people he cared about as long as he could.

“We keep each other safe, just like we’ve always done, Pads.”

“This isn’t trying to get out of detention when a prank goes wrong. I’m not going to risk any of my family coming after the people I care about.” He could still see, too clearly, the look in Moony’s eyes when he realized how close he’d come to attacking Snape on a full moon. If anything had happens Remus would be the one to suffer and it would have been his fault. He couldn’t let it be his fault again.

“So instead I’m supposed to just stand by and hope you’re okay? Do you know what it would do to me if anything happened to you?” James tugs on his hair.

“I’ll see you in two weeks, alright?”

“Padfoot…”

“It’s better if you don’t know where I am.” He’s been seventeen for almost two months, but won’t take his apparating test until spring like any other student. That doesn’t stop him from disapparating, but it did mean that he is a block away from Andromeda’s, instead of in her backyard, when he reappeared. It takes him a moment to get his bearings and to find his way to the house. By the time he does he’s shaking, and collapses on the back porch, using the last of his energy to change into Padfoot.

“Puppy.” He wakes to find Dora stroking his fur enthusiastically, Ted and Andromeda watching with varying looks of caution and amusement. Because it seems like the simplest option he spends an hour fetching sticks and racing through the snow, decimating the snowman they had made the day before and chomping on snowballs. When a cat crosses the back fence he doesn’t resist the urge to chase it; James has often remarked that if they ever came across McGonagall in her animagi form there would be some serious explaining to do. Chasing professors was not a good idea even if they were a cat at the time.

When it starts to get dark outside Ted tries to lure him in with the promise of something to eat, but he refuses. As tempting as it is to see if they would talk about him in his absence, it wasn’t fair and Andromeda would worry if he wasn’t back for tea. He’d promised, after all. Sirius slinks around the corner, waiting until he is sure everyone is inside the house before turning back. His jeans are soaked and his mouth is freezing from the snow he’s eaten, but an hour of running around and a nap have done him some good. He is able to walk into the house without feeling like the world is completely falling apart.

“Anyone with you?” Ted asks, poking his head out of the kitchen. Sirius shakes his head.

“Padfoot play?” Dora asks, her hair the same black color as his own. She’d changed it when they were playing outside, ironically wanting to match the dog.

“It’s bathtime, remember? And I’m sure Sirius is wanting a hot shower, considering the look of him.” Andromeda gives him the same speculative look she’d given a dog an hour ago until she was convinced that her daughter was safe playing with the mutt. “Your friend’s alright?”

“I think he’s mad at me.” James wasn’t mad, not really, but it was easier than saying that he was hurt by the secrets he wouldn’t share. He and James shared almost everything. “I’m going to go take that shower now.”

“I’ll let Ted know to start a kettle; you look like you could use some warming up from the inside too.”

The next morning he lets himself sleep in, and is still in his pajamas just before noon, making himself a bacon sandwich with leftovers from the breakfast he’d skipped. He’s just taken his first bite when someone knocks on the front door and Ted calls for him.

“See? I told you this was the logical place.” When Ted steps back Sirius can see a grinning James Potter in the doorway, a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck. Beside him is Remus, not dressed nearly warm enough for the day. Crowded on the back of the porch is Peter.

“Yes, but ‘Padfoot’ and ‘logical’ aren’t usually things we say together.” Moony has a crease line between his eyebrows, looking Sirius over. He tries to smile, but it is a small one, his attempt at a joke falling flat. Sirius can almost feel the worry vibrating from him.

“If Sirius is trying to lay low maybe we shouldn’t be standing out here where anyone can see us?” From the way James steps forward suddenly it was clear that Pete had given him a friendly shove. Ted is smart enough to take a couple of steps backward, clearing the way for three-fourths of the Marauders to invade his home.

Sirius says the only thing that came to mind. “What the fuck?”

“I sent an owl to Remus. He agrees you’re being stupid.” James aims a drying spell at his feet.

“That’s not what I said, Prong. Don’t put words in my mouth.” The gloves Remus takes off look new, probably a Christmas gift from his parents. They were practical souls, and most of Moony’s gifts from them are the sort of things that Sirius takes for granted. He knows that new quills and gloves are not so easy to come by in the Lupin household, though. “I said I didn’t like the idea of you without anyone to watch your back.”

“I agreed with James about you being a git.” Peter grins. Ted closes the door behind him.

“Gee, thanks Pete.”

“You’re Ted, right? Nice to meet you. I’m James and I’m just here to relieve you of this annoying houseguest of yours. His bedroom is all ready for him.” James shakes Ted’s hand when it’s offered.

“Sorry about the invasion, Mr. Tonks, only Sirius does seem to need reminding about a promise he made. We’ll be out of your hair once we knock some sense into him.” Remus looks at him very carefully, and Sirius can almost read his mind. He can see the bonfire they’d had the first summer they’d been together, could hear the vow they’d made to always have each other’s backs. Marauders forever.

“Stay as long as you like, boys. I have some biscuits in the oven that will be ready in a little while, so when you’re ready come down for a snack,” Ted offers as he shakes hands with Remus and then Peter.

“Fresh baked biscuits? Maybe Padfoot does know what he’s on about, staying here.” Peter licked his lips. He’d been the one, second year, to figure out the secret of the ticklish pear that lead into the kitchens. The house elves loved him.

“I’ll take this lot upstairs so we don’t bother you.” He gives his friends a pointed look and heads up the stairs, trying not to think about the fact that the bedroom he’d been using suddenly feels so much more like home when all four of them are crowded inside. Remus is the one to cast a silencing charm, meaning he doesn’t have to keep his voice down when he speaks. “Damn it, Prongs, what part of our conversation yesterday didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you seemed to suddenly forget the last six years and think you’re a lone wolf like that prat first year who wouldn’t talk to anyone for the first week of school. No offense meant, Remus.”

“None taken,” Remus shrugs, sitting down on the trunk under the window. Peter has already sprawled out on the bed. James was pacing, like he often did when he was plotting a prank or coming up with wild schemes to get Evans to date him.

“It’s not the same.” He’d been terrified that first week after the hat had sorted him into what he’d considered the wrong house. His mother had sent him three howlers the first two days, and he knew that Dumbledore had gotten a howler as well. He’d never asked McGonagall if she’d gotten one; it was too embarrassing to even contemplate. He hadn’t wanted to get to know the boys he shared a room with, not when he was going to be moved in a matter of days. Surely someone would realize that he couldn’t be a Griffindor. Blacks were always in Slytherin.

He’d been scared of his family then, and he was scared of his family now. Maybe it wasn’t so different, but the threat of his family was worse than it had been six years ago, or maybe he was finally understanding just what the Black name meant. “It‘s not safe.”

“Neither was spending two years learning to be an animagus so you could spend full moons chasing after a werewolf.” Remus rubs a scar on his forearm that Sirius swears is fading a little every year. The fact that he hadn’t gotten a new scar in over a year is a victory that Sirius privately celebrated every morning after a moon.

“That’s different.”

“How?” Remus stares at him until he has to look away.

“So Wormy, how long do you think we can hang around the Tonks place before they kick us all out?” James plonks down on the bed.

“Well they’ve already put up with Padfoot for four or five days so their tolerance is pretty high. Might be able to stretch it a couple of days. A week at least if we find some chores to help with. Longer if everyone remembers to shower.” Peter glances at the door. “You think those biscuits are ready?”

“We could go check and let the man of the house know we’ll be crashing here for a bit.” James heads for the door, breaking the silencing charm as he opens it. Peter is swift to follow.

“Moony.” Sirius looks at him, hoping that he at least will understand. Moony, he thinks, understands what’s coming with the war more than the rest of the group. He knows at least some of what a family like the Blacks can do.

“We’re not leaving you alone, Sirius, no matter the risk. You’re ours.” Remus squeezes his hand as they stand in the doorway. “It’s going to be okay, Pads. We’ll figure this out the way we always do. Together.”

Sirius thinks maybe he’d like to stand in the doorway for a while, the warmth of Moony’s hand in his, but everyone else is downstairs and he still has to find a way to convince them all to go home.

“Puppy?” After she is done with her biscuit Dora slides off her chair and runs to the kitchen door.

“We can look, love.” Ted follows her, opening the door to reveal an empty back porch.

“No puppy,” Dora sighs, her lower lip sticking out. “Want puppy.”

“There was a stray dog in the yard yesterday. Dora quite enjoyed playing with him,” Andromeda explains to the boys at the table. “It was quite funny, actually. Sirius got her a stuffed animal for Christmas and the dog that showed up looked almost the same.”

“Black dogs are common enough,” Sirius comments, shooting a look across the table at James.

“Probably just a mutt,” Peter supplies helpfully, wincing when Sirius kicks him under the table.

“He’s probably in the doghouse now,” Remus arches one eyebrow as he looked sideways at Sirius. “He might not be very good at listening.”

“I hope he has a good home. He seemed to be such a nice dog.” Ted lures his daughter back to the table with another biscuit. She decides that Remus’s lap is where she wants to sit while eating it, and tugs at his sleeve until he picks her up.

“I’m sure he’s found a very nice home. Most dogs are clever enough to go where they know they’re loved.” James is smiling, most people might think he is making an idle comment but Sirius knows that look in his eyes. He was not playing fair.

“Maybe he’s not looking for a home right now, but is wandering for a bit.” Sirius looks across the table at James pointedly.

“He looked too well fed to be homeless, and despite the lack of collar he certainly wasn’t a matt. He had good pedigree, you could tell that by looking.” Andromeda, of course, has no idea of the second conversation that is happening right in front of her. Her comment is enough to makes James choke on his biscuit, though.

“He had pedigree, Sirius.”

“Sod off, Prongs.” He was going to give away at least one of their secrets if he wasn’t careful. Andromeda is clever, and while she’d been out of the family for years she’d been raised on subterfuge and lies.

“Prongs,” Dora repeats. Sirius is just glad that’s the part she has decided to mimic.

“We call him that because his head is pointed,” Sirius grouces. “Not much room for a brain up there.

“I got just as many OWLS as you did, you berk,” James fired back. It had been a matter of great amusement, the year before, that their score on their OWLS had been exactly the same. Peter had nearly tied them, but was short by one O. Remus had beat them all, of course, practically acing his exams. Only his potions score kept him from being perfect.

“I was having an off day.” He can’t keep from grinning, for a moment forgetting everything else as he slips into the familiar patter of fake insults. Almost two weeks without his friends has been a lonely experience.

“I swear I can’t take you two anywhere.” Remus rolls his eyes, breaking off a bit of his biscuit for the little girl on his lap. She seems enthralled with him, her dark hair lightening into an auburn. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Tonks, I’d say that they’re not always this bad but my mum taught me not to lie.”

“It’s Andromeda, please, and it’s good to see that Sirius has such support.”

“Whether he wants it or not.” James leans back in his chair and looks at the back door that leads to the yard. Sirius doesn’t like the look in his eye; his best mate is plotting something. “Speaking of, you don’t mind if we borrow a bit of your yard, do you? My parents have a tent we could borrow, don’t take up much space. We wouldn’t want to impose, and we can manage all our own food.”

“You’re not staying here.” For effect Sirius throws half of his biscuit at James’s head.

“Good, then you’ve decided to come home with me.” James calmly catches the treat and pops it in his mouth.

“James.”

“If you think this is the safest place of you then it’s safe enough for all of us,” Remus points out calmly. Sirius bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. He can’t argue the point without making it sound like he’s willing to put his cousin’s family in danger. He looks over at Andromeda, willing her to say something to derail the current conversation.

“I think a camp out in the backyard sounds like fun.” Sirius stares at her in shock. Damn it, that wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I’m sure they’re hoping you’ll join them.” Sirius looks away from the window, pretending he hasn’t been staring at the shadows around the campfire in the backyard. It’s dark enough that he can’t see much of their faces, but his mates are all sitting outside the tent and drinking bottles of butterbeer.

“They should be at home.” Remus actually enjoys spending time with his parents, and Peter seems happy enough to go home for the hols. James has the best parents it’s possible to have.

“They don’t seem to agree with you.” Andromeda sits on the edge of his trunk, her leg not quite touching his. “Ted wanted to come with me when I told mum and dad about being engaged. I wouldn’t let him, couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t lash out at him.”

“So you get it.” Their family is capable of a great measure of cruelty.

“I understand the fear and the desire to protect. I also know that the first place I went after I told them was to Ted’s flat and I didn’t leave for three days straight. I couldn’t bear to have him out of my sight. The first time I saw my sisters and they walked past me as if I didn’t exist he was the one that was holding my hand. When the only family member at my wedding was Uncle Alphard Ted promised that he would be my family until the day he died.”

“They’ve been my family since my first year at Hogwarts.” James was the first person to make him laugh, nine days into first term. Peter had snuck him food when the idea of going to dinner and facing a whole table of Slytherins whispering about him had been too much to handle. And Remus, who he’d judged as quiet and odd had hexed his cousin when she’d made a cruel comment in the hall. Since then they’d proven themselves a thousand times, while his blood family had only been belittling and hateful. “That’s why I have to protect them.”

“It seems like they have the same idea regarding you.” Andromeda looks out the window where the fire seems to be dwindling. The tent flap is open, a light burning inside. Last summer they’d taken the tent to the Quidditch World Cup. It had been brilliant. He and his friends had slept in bunk beds in one room while James’s parents had the second bedroom. Euphemia had painted mehndi designs on their hands that swirled in gold and green, proud that India had made it to the finals. Even Fleamont, who was secretly rooting for England, wore mehndi on his hands. “Something’s coming, Siri, and I know that’s frightening and it’s going to get bad. But I also know that turning our backs on everything good in our lives is exactly what the Black family would like to see. Your mother wants you to think you’re alone. To think that the only option you have is to be one of them.”

“I’ll never be one of them,” he swears fiercely.

“Of course you won’t.” Andromeda is full of surprises today; she kisses him on the forehead the same way he’s seen her kiss her daughter at bedtime, then gestures to the door. “You’re welcome here anytime you want, Sirius, but I think there’s somewhere else you’re supposed to be right now.”

“Yeah.” He’s not sure if this feeling of worry in his belly will ever leave him, or how long he’ll look over his shoulder for a member of his family. But maybe he can protect the people that matter better by being with them.

Tomorrow he’ll worry about his trunk. For now he heads down the stairs and out of the house to find that the fire has been dowsed with snow but the tent flap is still open. He closes it behind him, following the sound of talking to the same bedroom he’s used before.

“It’s about time.” James is on the top of one bunk, the bed beneath him empty but made up with blankets and a pillow.

“We saved you some chocolate.” Remus has the other bottom bunk; he’s never been fond of heights, not even something as mild as a top bunk. Flying classes first year had been miserable for him. He points to the chocolate frog on the pillow next to a bottle of butterbeer.

“My feet are freezing.” Peter is pointing helplessly at his feet with his wand, but he’s never been very good at warming charms.

“That’s what happens when you have a campout in the snow.” Sirius finds warming charms easy, probably because he’s used them on Remus often enough. He’s always cold the morning after a moon. He helps out his friend, who grins down at him.

“Does this mean you’re done being a stubborn git?” James asks, hanging over the edge of the bed, his hair even more wild then usual thanks to the assist from gravity.

“It means I’ve accepted my doomed future of having to share a bathroom with you for all eternity, knowing you steal my shampoo and shed hair all over the place.” He catches the chocolate frog before it can hop away, viciously biting off a back leg.

“Good, because the kidnapping plan had a few snags in it and this is so much easier. Mum said she’d make a cake to celebrate and anything you want for dinner. Dad says not to worry about anything, he’s already talked to Dumbledore about the change in address. This is going to be brill.” James’ excitement was infectious, and despite his worry Sirius couldn’t help grinning back. No one had ever been excited to have him come home before.

James falls asleep as quickly as he does everything else, and within minutes there’s a soft snoring coming from above him. Peter had fallen asleep almost the moment his feet warmed up. Sirius rarely found sleep easy unless he’d completely physically exhausted himself first. He’s just about to contemplate turning into Padfoot, which sometimes helps, when there’s a whisper from his left side.

“I’m glad you don’t have to go back there, Pads. I’ve always dreaded holidays knowing you had a home like that.” Remus speaks softly but Sirius can hear the concern in his voice.

“It hasn’t been home for a long time. Maybe it never was.” He’s never been wanted by his parents, not in the way Euphemia and Monty so desperately wanted a son. He was an asset, like a land holding or the contents of the family vault, only with less value. “But it’s over now. I’m never going to see my family again.”

“You see your family every day, Pads. We’re right here.”

“Yeah, you are.” It didn’t matter if it was a tent, or a dorm room, or the guest room at the Potters that was secretly being redecorated to welcome him. It didn’t matter if the blood in their veins wasn’t the same. He had his family and his home, and hadn’t lost any of it when he’d walked away from Grimmauld Place. “G’night Moony.”

“Night Padfoot. Sweet dreams.”

Sirius doesn’t remember his dreams the next day, but he wakes up feeling rested and more relaxed than he’s felt in months.

“Your cousin has invited us all for breakfast before we go home.” James is already dressed and using a charm to clean his glasses.

“Good, I’m famished.” He dresses quickly, joining his friends as they dash across the yard, dodging snowballs that they levitate at each other. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and chocolate, and as they eat breakfast they make plans to come back for Sunday dinner. His mother can’t forbid him from spending time with his cousin now, and he’d like to get to know Ted better too.

Monty and Euphemia are waiting for them when they get home, welcoming him with hugs and a meal comprised of all his favorite foods. Remus and Peter stay for the first couple of days, the four of them taking shifts to make sure nothing happens. Other than a howler from his mother all is silent on the Black front. He almost doesn’t mind the howler because Freddie’s the one that delivers it and he knows enough to stay. James is with his mum in the greenhouse and doesn’t hear it. Monty’s there, though, and it’s the first time Sirius has heard him swear.

“They’re just words, son,” he says when the howler explodes. Sirius knows it’s not true, it’s more than that, but the hate is tempered by being called ‘son’ by someone who means it.

“Yeah.” He takes Freddie to the owlery to get settled and joins James and his mum in the greenhouse where they’re transplanting a bloodspot into a larger pot.

“Just in time, my dear. Do you mind holding a few of these leaves out of the way? They are too tender to use a freezing charm on them.” James has dug the hole and Euphemia has the roots supported. Between the three of them they get it settled into the new pot, the dirt anchoring it in place. Pleased, Euphemia steps back to admire their work. “Just right.”

“Just where it belongs,” James says, but he’s not looking at the plant. Sirius rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue, but he can’t disagree. He didn't run away from home, he ran towards it.

#harry potter fic #sirius black #the marauders #marauder era fic #my fic #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #andromeda black tonks #nymphadora tonks #ted tonks #euphemia potter #fleamont potter #hints of remus/sirius #hints of james/lily #abuse tw

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love-can-be-as-cold-as-grave · 4 years

Text

Chapter 33: You’re All I Ever Wanted

[December 31, 2020]

Liv looked over her shoulder, mischievously grinning at the sleeping lump hidden beneath the black covers, an intricately tattooed hand sticking out from one corner. She turned back to peek through the glowing slit in the ebony curtains. I’ll never get sick of this view, she thought, watching the light snow falling in delicate flurries upon the already blanketed backyard. Pressed in to the sweeping blanched yard were the small imprints of birds and critters. Tucked to the side were their bicycles, hidden beneath a tarp, awaiting the spring.

Grabbing the corner of the curtains Liv pulled them back, basking the dark room in the alabaster glow of a snowy morning. “Up! Nouse ylös! (Get up!)” Smiling to herself she crossed the room to rummage through their ornate ebony dresser, wondering exactly how cold it was outside. Even after two odd years living in Finland, figuring out the right attire was still a mystery to Liv after LA’s eternal heat. It’s freezing right? Long sleeves right?

Annoyed grumbling came from the bed lump as it shifted positions, turning away from the light to face the opposite end of the room.

Liv slipped off her red checkered pajama pants, pulling out a pair distressed black boyfriend jeans. “Don’t make me go in there and get you!” She laughed, setting the jeans to the side and sifting through shirts. Yup, long sleeve is probably best. A sweater too?

The grumbling grew playfully louder, and with that Liv forgot changing altogether and crept towards the edge of the bed, grabbing the end of the blanket, lifting it up and squirmed her way under. The light shining in from the window illuminated the curled up figure beneath, peeking out from beneath his arm, smile twitching on his lips as she crawled her way up the length of his body, throwing a knee over him and straddling his chest, hands resting on the bed on either side of his face, caging him in.

Ville peaked out again from beneath his forearm, green eyes alive with amusement as he finally pulled his arm away, bringing both his hands to Liv’s forearms and running his fingers up and down them innocently. He stared up at Liv, fighting back a smile, admiring the sparkle in her rested eyes, the sensation of her long black hair brushing his bare skin, the small goosebumps of pleasure appearing on her forearms “Oh you’re up? I’ve been waiting ages darling. Did you forget that we were joining Jesse for breakfast before my meeting?” He grabbed her wrists, tugging them out from under her so that she fell onto his chest and rolled, changing their positions and pinning her down to the bed. “How could you Kultaseni?”

Liv laughed, stretching out her neck to give him a longing and loving kiss on the lips, smirking with amusement as she pulled away to see a hungry smirk on his pale face, setting off the slight wrinkles around his eyes, curly hair in messy tousles. “Oh no sir, no can do. We’ll be late.”

Ville rolled his eyes before lowering his head, running his nose along her jawline then slowly down her neck, “He’s my brother, he’ll understand.”

***

Ville watched with amusement as Jesse inhaled his enormous breakfast, raising a questioning brow as he took a sip of his coffee. They sat in a small cafe and bookshop in the heart of Helsinki. The cafe was filled with the inviting aroma of books and coffee and the low hum of sleepy new years eve patrons. Outside the snow continued to fall it’s familiar dance. The three of them sat in the corner, Liv and Ville next to each other, and Jesse across from them. After making it out of bed Ville had thrown on a white T-shirt, plain black hoodie, black jeans, and black coat, leaving his curls down in a mess.

"Mitä?(What?),” Jesse asked, catching Ville’s stare, “I'm bulking." Jesse mumbled, a forkful of eggs stuffed into his mouth. He had on a light gray sweater, dark blonde hair cropped short.

Liv let her hand rest on Ville's lap, fork half heartedly moving the fruit salad around on her plate. "When is your next match?" Her long black hair was down in its natural waves, falling past her shoulders, reaching down to her waist, the longest it had been for a while. She had on a tight fitting horizontally striped turtleneck tucked in to her black boyfriend jeans, black belt completing the look. Something seemed off with her that morning after they finally managed to leave the bed. Something was troubling her.

Ville took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze before interlacing his ringed fingers with hers, playing with the small shiny engagement ring. He knew exactly what it was. It was the same thing that had been troubling her for a while now. Moments of hopefulness, and then disappointment.

"Next week." Jesse smiled happily, oblivious to the concerned looks Ville was giving Liv from the corner of his eye. He washed down his mouthful with some milk. “I have to make sure I take it easy tonight. Two beers, tops. Okay maybe three, but that’s it or else my coach will kill me.” He took a bite of toast before gesturing with it towards Ville and Liv, “What do you two have planned tonight?”

Liv tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, placing her utensils on her plate having given up on the meal, and leaned back in her chair, taking her cup of tea in to her free hand. “Well this vampire hermit,” she nudge Ville gently with her elbow, “wanted to stay in and watch Night of the Living Dead,” she flashed him a smirk, “but I’ve convinced him to come out to a party at Jussi’s Helsinki apartment.” The smirk didn’t touch her eyes. She’s putting on a niceties for Jesse but her mind is elsewhere.

“Tyypilliesti! (Typical!)” Jesse laughed, just as the familiar sound of Livs ringtone began to hum.

Liv pulled it out, giving it a glance before stuffing it back in her pocket. He knew that expression, it was a business call but she didn't want to be rude by answering. Jesse wouldn't mind, he loved Liv like his own sister; she could do no wrong. "Just answer it sweetheart." He smiled. Two workaholics sit down in a cafe… Ville mused as Liv said her apologies to Jesse, grabbing her long black coat and stepping outside to answer it.

"So," Jesse snuck a look outside at Liv as she paced, talking with animation to, whome Ville could only assume was Siri, given the familiar expression of happy annoyance on her face as she spoke, "Aiotteko te tehdä teistä minusta setän, milloin tahansa? (Are you two going to make me an uncle anytime soon?)"

Ville took a deep breath, running his hands over his face, a little unsurprised with the inquiry. That was the million dollar question everyone seemed to be asking them since they had gotten married. He was thankful that Jesse at least had some tact and asked when Liv had stepped out. "There's been, um…" he interlaced his fingers beneath his chin, watching as the flurries began to cover Liv's hair with snow, her cheeks turning red from the cold, "There are some complications from the, the crash. We saw a physician in June and were advised to keep trying despite the chances being quite low.” A part of him had begun to feel the weight of guilt. They'd been trying since May, and despite having a doctor confirm Liv's fears they'd of course kept up their efforts, but that hopeful excitement had faded from Ville, leaving him jaded but supportive. He couldn't let himself get his hopes up any longer with each passing month, and he felt guilty for it. He simply did not understand how Liv could continue going through the same vicious cycle, the same eager anticipation and then crushing disappointment. It hurt him to realize that they may no longer be on the same page. Before leaving for breakfast, he had taken note of the extent of Liv’s investment, their washroom counter full of vitamins, a calender tracking her cycle, a small stack of books on conception. Maybe I am quick to lose hope, maybe I am being pessimistic, but I’m hurting twice as much as the time keeps passing, my own pain yes, but hers too. Perhaps we should take a step back, a break from the fixation of it so that we may begin to prepare ourselves for the realization that this may not happen for us...again.

Jesse wiped his mouth with a napkin, looking at his brother with seriousness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You could always adopt? Try some of that fertility stuff?”

Ville shrugged, looking away from Jesse and back towards Liv. She caught his eye with a glance and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’ before turning back around. Ville looked back to Jesse, running a hand through his hair, “She doesn’t want to think about fertility treatments and the like, let alone try them. I’m trying my best to be supportive, and at this point I’m not sure I care as much about conceiving as I did, I’m more worried about her more than anything else.”

Suddenly the soft tinkling of the cafe doorbell rang as Liv hurriedly rushed back to her seat next to Ville, the snow already melting in her hair. “I’m sorry, there was a scheduling mishap and my shoot today got moved up.” She shrugged off her coat, the blush reddening further on her cheeks. “But they can wait cause I want to hear all about this match.”

***

Liv let her fingertips trace the designs on the graffitied wall. I don’t need to check. I don’t need to check.

“I forgot to ask! How was your christmas? Did your dad and grandfather enjoy Helsinki? What presents did you and Ville exchange?” Siri grinned as she zipped up the last of the carrying cases for their camera equipment, picking it up and adding it to a pile with the rest. She’d dyed her pixie hair a bright red and had on the oddest set of oversized striped overalls atop a green turtleneck.

Liv took a seat on the worn cushioned bench, crossing her legs at the ankles. They’d had a brief promotional shoot at Tavastia for an upcoming show. The entire place was a wealth of memories. She could almost imagine the guys, grinning and snarling back at her as she shot photographs for them there and the very same room.

How was my Christmas?, “It was really nice.” She smiled softly to herself as she remembered the satanic ornaments Ville had gotten for their tree. Her favorite has been the one he’d made himself though. He’d painted a white door on a clear ornament. On the door was a little 666 in red script, marking it as the lair of the beast. He’d filled the ornament with little squares of paper with scribbled lines, representing the pages and pages of lyrics she had, and still takes up in his notebooks. “Ville was a really good sport with everything, and everyone, even though this isn't his favorite time of year. Dad and gramps hated the cold, but I figured as much. They did love Ville’s moms cooking, but gramps liked the liquor cabinet more. My dad didn’t touch a single drop though. Joan has him on a health kick getting ready for his wedding. Gifts? I bought Ville a really beautiful guitar I found at auction that was once owned by Elvis. He was head over heels. I’m surprised it didn’t take my place in our bed. And Ville is going to take me to Budapest to visit the other half of my family in February, just before he’s back on tour with The Agents. Overall, good family time, good food, and fantastic husband who kept me from getting too stressed out hosting everyone.” Complete understatement, Liv thought. Ville had been some sort of super human, running around getting groceries, keeping her family entertained, helping her clean, calming her down, and most importantly, fronting the inevitable question. The question…

She got up, grabbing the equipment carriers and tossing a few straps over her shoulders, Siri following her lead. Overloaded with equipment they wound around the back corridors of the venue until they came to the back door that led out to the parking lot. Turning the handle with her elbows Liv held the door for Siri, the light flurries unrelenting on the cold December day.

Siri ducked past Liv as she held the door “Sounds about the same as mine, except no out of town relatives and a wonderful fiance, almost husband.” Trying not to tip over with the equipment under one arm she unlocked the trunk of her new pink Smart Car and began loading the gear into the trunk.

“How is Kosmo?” Liv smiled, remembering the frantic call she’d gotten from Kosmo a few months prior, asking for help choosing the right ring.

Siri laughed, grabbing the camera straps hanging off of Liv’s arms and tucking the cameras neatly in the trunk before shutting it and leaning back against the car. “He’s great. Keeps going on about wedding plans. I wouldn't mind an elopement! Oh and kids, he’s talking about kids! That man…” She chuckled as she shook her head.

Liv’s chest tightened at the word, teeth biting down on her lower lip. Kids… Even the mention of them was enough to set her off. The feeling of not being able to conceive was indescribable. It felt like a weight, crushing down upon her, this total feeling of being a failure, and having it tied so closely to the traumas of her past only resulted in her having to face them all over again. She’d been trying to cope as best she could, but each passing month brought its heartbreak. Throughout the ordeal so far she had learned the never ending nature of Ville’s supportive devotion to her. He came to every doctor's appointment, held her hand through it all, read books, bought vitamins and foods, he did it all, but she knew. She knew it was for her and her alone.

I don’t need to check.

There is a pharmacy just around the corner, I could just quickly stop in and buy a test. I have felt different lately. And my period is late. But then again, it was late the past four negatives too. No I won’t get a test. I shouldn't.

“Ville!” Siri grinned with her child-like smile as she spotted Ville walking across the parking lot in their direction, bundled up in his coat, a scarf, beanie, and backpack thrown over one shoulder. He gave her a wave of greeting.

Liv turned, watching with curiosity as he approached, her lips freed from her teeth as she smiled, “Well this is a nice surprise.”

He shrugged, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and giving her a kiss on the cheek, “I thought I could come escort you home since I finished my meeting early.”

Siri pulled open the driver side door, rolling her eyes with a smirk, “You two are disgustingly cute.” Siri laughed, hoping in to the car, “I’ll see you next week Liv, have a happy new year!”

They watched Siri carefully maneuver through the snowy lot and on to the road. The skies above a light grey, with nights blanket of ebony slowly arrive.

“So,” Liv said, turning to Ville, fingers playing with the strings on his hoodie, “What really brings you by?” He was easy to read when he had ulterior motives, his smile was always a little crooked when he was up to something, she’d spotted it immediately.

“Such a sleuth,” he joked, unzipping his backpack and pulled out a new pair of beautiful black gloves trimmed in faux leather. Liv took them, gingerly pulling them on with a brilliant grin. She’d been needing a new pair of gloves, and they fit perfectly. “I thought my dear,” he took her hand, wrapping it around his arm and guided her out of the parking lot, “that we could walk home along the pier.”

Both of their black docs shuffling in the piling snow they began to walk arm in arm. “Thank you, truly. These gloves are beautiful. But you do know it’s like an hour long walk right? But if you need that much time to spill the beans then sure darling, I don’t mind.” The streets around them were surprisingly busy. The snow was not one to slow a Fin, and with it being New Years eve, last minute preparations were being made by everyone as they rushed to and fro.

“Spill the beans, funny turn of phrase, I wonder where it…” Liv gave him a mock look of exasperation as they crossed the street and on to the pier, their breaths blowing out in pearlescent puffs. Ships tarped and bunkered down for the winter bobbed gently as the ocean gave it's push and wall against the port. “Alright I shall get to the point.” He stopped walking. “You seemed troubled this morning, and I suspect why. I know it’s been difficult for you, and I’m trying my absolute best to be the doting and supportive husband but I’m afraid I can’t do what you do. I can’t keep getting my hopes up every time. I am becoming worn out, and I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all. I want to be happy and eager, but seeing you crushed every month is taking its toll on me because I,” his eyes glistened with tears, “I can’t give you the one thing you want.” He took her hands in his, the sea breeze tugging at the loose strands of his curls sticking out from under the beanie. "Darling I think, and please listen to me, I think we should take a break from trying.”

She’d been staring at him with shock, trying to digest his words as he spoke with his heart, but that final sentence had broken hers. Her gloved hands slipped from his, and before she could censor herself, she spoke harshly, “You don’t want a child?

He shook his head, trying to take her hand again but she pulled back, "No that's not what I'm saying at all, and you know that. I'm both worried about you, about the stress, and honestly, I’m worried about myself too. You are paramount in my concerns, but I also am trying not to end up in such a place where I think of our efforts as a burden. Please, just think about what I’m saying and consider it will you?"

Liv looked away from his face, out at the cloud covered sea. She hadn’t realized the extent of is own pain in all this, nor the ramifications it could have. Am I selfish? Have I only been thinking about myself? I want us to be on the same page, I don’t want this whole thing to be like it’s become, clouded by what we learned at the doctor, what I feared. We should be, and stay happy and hopeful. It hasn’t even been a full year of trying, how have I let myself get to this, this point? He’s right isn’t he. Maybe we do need to take a breather from this. She took his hand in hers and nodded lightly.

***

He wasn’t sure exactly what reaction he’d get from her, but he hadn’t imagined the quiet, digestive, withdrawal. He took a sip of beer, smiling down at the christmas card they had received from Marcus. It was a sweet family photograph with Hanna and his two daughters, the whole family adorned in heartagram T-shirts and wild hair in a parody of terrible 80’s-style family portraits. He set the card back down on the mantelpiece and looked longingly at the stairs. After returning home she’d hurried off to their bedroom to get ready for the party, or at least that had been her excuse. He’d learned long ago to let her have her space, that she would talk to him when she was ready, something she’d been working really hard to do after their love story had picked back up again.

Unsure what to do with himself while he waited for her to finish getting ready he meandered over to the small studio and took a seat at their piano, setting his drink done on the floor. The sky had darkened quite quickly after they’d returned, and the temperature dropped further, the snow still falling in gentle whisps. He played a note, and then another absentmindedly, enjoying the sensation of the smooth ivory as he gazed upon the collection of posters, prints, and photographs around the room.

Situated lovingly across from the piano was a large print of one of their wedding photographs. It was his favorite one. Their wedding had been held in the fall in Oulun Hautausmaa, one of Finland's oldest cemeteries. It had been a bright sunny day, the trees casting shadows, the small group of twenty odd guests braving the cool breeze. Siri, who had passionately offered her services to take photographs during the day had captured the moment Ville had lifted up and pulled back the vintage lace veil Liv had worn. She was laughing with loving amusement, black hair in beautiful curls trailing down the bare back of her lace, sleeved, mermaid style dress, a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand. In front of her Ville held his mouth, overcome with emotion at the sight of Liv, his other hand clutching his chest. Seeing her coming down the aisle like some ethereal ghost had stunned him speechless, he’d never felt so incredibly overwhelmed before, and then to pull back the veil and see her blushing face, staring back at him with pure happy joy.

“You know, you still look at me like that.” Liv stepped in to the doorway, her mood lightened. She had changed into a simple, long sleeved, mid-thigh, fitted maroon dress, black hair styled in waves, and her lips rouged a dark red.

Ville grinned, unable to help himself as he scooted over on the stool, inviting her to join him. "And I always will. Come, play with me, we've got," he took a quick glance at his wristwatch, "fifteen minutes before our cab arrives."

A soft smile spread across her red lips as she crossed the room, sliding in to the space to the left of him, resting her head on his shoulder, fingers hovering over the keys.

He wished he had the ability to make her feel better, to do more than he could, but couldn't. Tragedy clings to you like a parasite doesn't it traagisesti kaunis rakkauteni. He waited for her to pick a song as he peppered the top of her head with kisses until suddenly she sat up and brought her fingers down on the keys.

[ https://youtu.be/ppWz9O78DgI ]

The note was deep and sombre. Ville stared, confused, unsure which song it was as she played the same keys in fast succession, before reaching her right hand across him, fingers sliding over the ivory. He recognized the notes instantly, smirking at her as she waited for him to identify the song. He took over from her hand, and together with firm hands they dug in to the keys, playing Liv’s favorite song. The sounds were harsh, and pounding with rough passion on Liv’s end as she put the weight of her body in to every note with closed eyes. Soon the song began to slow, and Ville took control of the melody, bringing in gentler, softer notes.They played together, riffing with each other, each knowing the notes by heart, souls pouring in to the piece.

This song would always have a special place in his heart, not only because he knew it was Liv’s favorite but because that night, the night Liv had let her heart lead, and not run from it, was the night he’d understood, truly, what love was. To love and be loved was not simply burning passions, nor heart wrenching adoration and infatuation, love is compromise, love is wanting to be the best version of yourself for that person, love is give and take, love is learning, learning together, and growing together. Now, he got to wake up every morning next to her, next to pure euphoric happiness, next to the person who challenged him, inspired him, made him feel humble yet invincible, the person who picked him up, who understood him like no one had before or ever would. And to think, they’d both almost lost each other.

Maybe I was wrong, he thought, the notes bleeding in to him, maybe we need to keep trying, do whatever it takes, persevere.

***

He handed the acoustic guitar back to Jussi, "How do you always rope me into playing when I come over?"

Mige rolled his eyes, "Oh please, you adore the attention." He swung back the rest of his beer before roughly placing the bottle down on the counter and scratched his beard.

"Maybe," Ville winked, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his forearm, the sleeves of his dress short rolled up, the top buttons undone.

"Hey where did zombie fucker go?" Mige asked, slumping down on a loveseat, grabbing a shinny 2021 hat and plopping it on his head.

Ville looked around quickly, unable to spot her in the room, "I'm not sure. And stop calling her that! She only accepts zombie lover, or Liv Valo." He gave Mige a playful punch on the thigh before leaving it side.

The party had been well under way when they'd arrived. The two story apartment was crammed with people, many of the guests were Finnish artists and other people in the music industry. After a winter of reclusive rehearsals and time off basking in the warmth of home, it had been a bit jarring for Ville to be thrown into the viper pit of socializing, but finding Mige there had been a welcome surprise. Liv had stayed by his side mostly, reminiscing with Mige, sharing gig horror stories with Jannah, a photography friend of hers, jumping on the piano at some point to play some Mozart, comparing tattoos with Jyrkie, but Ville couldn't help but notice that she seemed a bit off. Her energy had been less than half what it would normally be in these situations. Typically the social butterfly, she still was, but more mellow, not really present. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she still had that look of sad contemplation in her eyes, despite the smiles on her lips. He wondered if she was still upset with him. Something was the matter.

She'd disappeared somewhere between Living on a Prayer, and Jailhouse Rock which were four or so songs ago, and so turning down another beer from Mige, Ville went looking for Liv. He pushed his way through the crowds of intoxicated and cheerful people, moving from the dining room to the kitchen, checking even the patio despite knowing Liv had quit smoking earlier in the year. He sighed, going back in to do another scan before noticing a line of women waiting outside of the hallway washroom. Giving them a shy smile he knocked on the door, “Liv? Are you in there?”

Amidst the blaring rock music coming from one of the rooms he could hear the door unlock, and, giving the women an apologetic look, he stepped in to the washroom, closing the door behind him. Liv sat on the edge of the small tub, elbows resting on her knees, her face clammy and pale. She gave him a weak smile.

“Darling is something the matter?” He crouched down to her eye level, brushing a loose strand of her hair out of her eyes. “Are you still upset?” She's either sick, or she’s been crying in here, he thought, unsure which it was, but wanting to make sure she was alright either way.

She shook her head, “No no, I just, I’m not feeling well. Ville this is different.” She took his hand in hers, casting her eyes down at the large silver rings on his fingers as she fiddled with them, words on the tip of her tongue ready to come out. “I was sick when we got back home. And I got sick again. I’ve uh, I’ve been throwing up…” She looked back up at him, trying to gage his reaction.

Throwing up? Throwing up. “Oh.” He managed to say. Could she? Without another thought he stood, extending his hand out towards her, “Let’s go and get a test right this minute.” Despite his sentiments earlier in the day he wanted to know. He needed to know. Being rational couldn't just erase the natural reaction to what Liv was telling him. He knew the possibility of disappointment was there, as it had been in the past, but he knew Liv, he knew if said this felt different, then it was.

Liv chuckled, a little taken aback by his reaction. "But today, you said…" She took his hand and carefully got to her feet, “And we’d miss the countdown.”

Ville unlocked the door, keeping her hand in his and leading her through the crowds gently, “Bullocks with the count down.”

***

Ville tapped his foot anxiously, heart feeling as if it would pound right out of his chest as he waited outside of the gas station washroom attached to the outside of the building. His stomach was doing somersaults. Alright, if it is a negative than perhaps we should see the doctor again, inquire regarding other options. I should take Liv home, maybe draw her a bath. Would her favorite bakery be open? No of course not… But what if it isn’t a negative? What if this is it? Really it.

Around him the flurries had finally stopped, street lights twinkling on the soft powdery snow.

The door slowly creaked open and Liv stepped out, her face blank, body bundled in a thick crimson coat, barrette atop her head, and worn doc martens. His poker face suddenly faltered to reveal a dazzlingly bright smile.

“Rambo!” Ville blurted out with a raspy laughed, grabbing Liv around the waist and spinning her as around them the sounds of the new year echoed in a chorus along the street with cheers and clankings pots and pans. Midnight had chimed.

“I’m sorry what?” Liv giggled, putting the capped test in her pocket and lacing her fingers in to Ville’s hair as he continued to hold her up in his arms, twirling her around the snow packed lot of the station.

“No, Hoff! No no, Ozzy!” Ville beamed as the two lovers basked in the glow of the stations outside lights, breaths billowing with white in the air, their happy giggles rising up in the raucous night.

Liv wrapped her arms around his neck, her happiness overwhelming, she knew, she knew it had felt different. “What on earth are you talking about?” She couldn’t stop chuckling as they spun and spun. She felt absolutely euphoric. A baby, she squealed internally, we’re going to have a baby! After everything. After that night of tears and pain, after heartbreak, after distance and passionate rekindling, after happy contentment, a child.

Ville felt lightheaded as he finally set her down, holding her chilled cheeks in between his hands, “Baby names my dear.” He was freezing. His boots were getting wet. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered anymore but her and the marvel of a little bean growing inside of her. He brought his lips to hers, eyes glistening with happy tears as he wrapped her in his warm embrace.

Liv kissed him back passionately, tears of happiness also streaming down her face, before catching her breath and resting her cheek on his chest. “Poe?” She asked, peeking up at him with a grin.

“Poe huh? Yeah, I like that.” Ville smirked, kissing the top of her head and hailing a cab that he spotted passing by. He tossed his arm around her shoulder lovingly, looking into her beautiful hazel eyes as they trudged through the soft snow, another wonderful year behind them, an even better one ahead. “Darling?” He asked, barely able to contain his chuckles.

Liv looked up at him with utter contentment as they just about reached the cab, the wind picking up and stirring her hair, “Hmm?”

“I suppose,” he winked down at her as he nudged her jokingly, “we’ll never enjoy the silence now.”

#ville valo #him #h.i.m.#his infernal majesty #fan fic

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charmingturkeysandwich · 5 years

Text

I Could Use a Love Song (2/22): where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones (AU) Words: 3k(ish) Rating: T for this chapter, I’d say. (M overall) Chapter Summary: The band’s first day with their new roadie gets off to a shaky start.

Read on AO3.

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Having grown used to shitty sleeping situations through foster homes, homelessness, couch surfing, and now touring, Emma awoke the next morning refreshed and ready to fight.

Yep, fight. Because the prior evening she’d been exhausted and hovering in that weird stage of drunk where you’re basically pre-hungover, and life had thrown a hot roadie at her. Except it wasn’t life that had done that. It was David. David who in the year of our lord 2019 most fucking certainly had a cell phone and could have shot her a text that a stranger was going to crash her quiet night alone.

Not that Killian crashed in any sense beyond sleep. They were seemingly both out before even the first song had finished playing through her speakers and he was still eyes-closed and breathing steady now that Emma was crawling over the seat and out the door, dead set on properly raging about the ridiculousness of this decision in addition to the lack of communication that shouldn’t exist among people who literally write words for a fucking living.

Seriously. How hard is it to send a text? Don’t wanna do your dirty work yourself, you can just tell Siri to piss of your bandmate on your behalf.

A little warning might have been nice. But she got none. So they weren’t getting any either.

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers!” Emma squawked as she flung open the door to David and Mary Margaret’s bedroom (they knew she had a copy of it, so really they should have thought twice before giving her no warning that she was going to have to deal with some weird ass alternate universe, very fuckable Captain Hook every single day for the foreseeable future. And pay him.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret gasped, yanking the comforter over what was probably her bare chest, but Emma didn’t bother to even glance at her. Accomplice in lack-of-communication, probably… but David was her object of fury.

Speaking of… “What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, more confused than angry at her intrusion.

“I have a leather-jacket-wearing bone to pick with you, sir.”

“Aw, shit. You met Liam’s brother then?”

“Met him, slept with him, you know, the basic first steps in an employer-employee relationship.”

“Emma! You had sex with Killian?!” Mary Margaret sounded positively scandalized, which made sense for her own personality in addition to the fact that Emma hadn’t slept with anyone in … well it would probably be measured in years and not months, so. It would have been a shock if it were true.

“No, mom, but he slept in the van with me, which is my happy place. Not a place for strays.”

David stood up from the bed, raking his fingers through his hair in what looked like frustration or perhaps the pain of a hangover headache (good).

“We’re all strays, Emma. Can’t you be a little more accepting?”

“Can’t you be a little more with the warning?! You’re lucking I didn’t punch him when he approached me in a dark fucking alley, David.” Which was true. After much of the shit she suffered in her younger years, she didn’t take a chance or give anyone the benefit of the doubt if they seemed to have ill intentions.

He paused, daring blankly at her before taking a swig of the water next to their little bed. Light was just barely filtering through their curtains, so it was still early. No rush to hit the road quite yet, still time to get breakfast and drink their weights in coffee.

Usually the mornings were more pleasant than this.

Usually it was just the five of them in a diner, and usually she was listening to their post-gig stories, not sharing much of her own.

“Where did you leave him, then? Or did you already fire him?”

“Now, David, how could I fire someone I never even hired?! You remember we voted that we didn’t have the money to add staff.”

At that, Mary Margaret perked up, her back straightening as her mascara-smudged face scrunched in guilt. “That one is actually on me. We were on FaceTime with Killian and he’s just so… he’s in a bad place, Emma, and he needs money and people and we couldn’t just let him… “

“Go to the pound with the other strays? Fine. I get it. He doesn’t seem like the worst person in the world. But, like, give a girl a heads-up? And to answer your question, David, I left him soundly asleep in the van. I’m not a goddamn monster.”

Emma stormed out with no real destination in mind, just a deep craving for coffee and a bear claw and space from any other living human who might attempt to converse with her when she needed a minute to wallow in her semi-justified rage.

Of all the people to find her, of fucking course it was Killian.

Known him 12 hours or less and he was already the biggest pain in her ass.

“Swan, fancy seeing you here!” His voice was bright despite the wrinkles in this clothes and the hair that was no longer ‘artfully mussed,’ but more… hurricane-ravaged.

“Why are you so chipper?” is all she croaked back in response.

“Well I’ve already had an unpleasant encounter with Brother Dave and figured I would try to make this one a little less fraught with tension and don’t get any ideas about Emma you wanker.” Killian plopped down across from her, already clutching a coffee from somewhere that definitely was not the diner she’d wandered into and been sulking at for at least 2 hours.

“Why would he yell at you? And why are you calling him brother? And… just why?”

“Apologies, Swan, I assumed you’d had enough coffee and sugar to cope with me by now. I was warned of that. You see, apparently I was supposed to just go ‘sleep on a bench in a park’ or something to that effect and then not introduce myself to you or the rest of the crew until morning. Silly me. So David, who appears to think of himself as your father but who was best friends with my brother, proceeded to lecture me about how I’m not allowed to get in your pants. As if you didn’t have a say in the matter. Don’t worry, darling, I clarified that you will without a doubt never care for me beyond tolerance and he seemed to unbunch his knickers.”

“You know, Jones, if I’m not your love I’m probably not your darling, either.”

“Goodness sakes, woman, can you perhaps glean the important information from my babbling and not focus the filler?”

“Fine. Fuck your filler. We’re probably late for leaving by now, though,” Emma said, glancing at the clock on the wall and then at her message-filled phone. She rose from the table slowly, downing the rest of her lukewarm coffee and shoving a doughnut toward Killian in the process. “Shall we?”

He did some type of bow/curtsey nonsenense and flourished his arm toward the door as if to say ladies first and Emma stomped right past him, already 110% fed up with his weird country boy/Jane Austen hero attempt at chivalry when she knew he was no gentleman and she was no goddamn lady.

It appeared that the new guy had already met the rest of the team, Ruby fist bumping him and Graham giving him a hungover nod to acknowledge his return. David and Mary Margaret were blessedly silent about any of the morning’s arguments and simply hopped in the driver and passenger seats so they could meander over to the next tiny ass New York town full of Their People.

Some days were harder than others when it came to the places they played. None of them were the hellish ‘hometown’ she’d steadfastly refused to ever revisit, but each seemed to capture some kind of echo of her past. It was really a shame that scent was so tied to memory, because dive bars were smelly places. The right combination of Marlboro Menthol Lights, Miller, and whatever was in that black bottle from Avon and suddenly Emma was back at the Buckhorn, drinking to forget the hurt she hadn’t quite sustained yet, but was inevitably coming.

She always got past it. Rage was good like that, strong enough to overcome the heartbreak of individual memories. Whiskey helped, too.

Graham and Ruby were sprawled on either side of the middle row in the shabby van, both passed out (clearly they hadn’t done enough sleeping wherever it is either of them had gone the night before). David and Mary Margaret, meanwhile, were quietly singing to each other from the front, songs too cheesy for the other three bandmates to ever agree to allow to be performed on stage.

So that left her and Killian, the only two life forms currently active in actual reality.

“So what’s your story, Jones?

He rolled his head on his shoulders, sliding his line of sight from the video to meet her (probably too-harsh) stare. “What makes you think I have a story?”

“You’re on the road with a country band. In my experience you don’t get to that point without some stuff preceding it. Come on, Jones. Someone stole your truck, shot your dog, or screwed your wife. Which one?”

“Where are your manners, young lady, you definitely take a bloke to dinner before you ask for his Tragic Backstory. That’s got to be written somewhere. For shame!” he whisper-shouted, quite overdramatically.

Maybe he’d gotten his heart broken at drama camp.

“What else am I supposed to ask you? I don’t have much information to go on here.”

“Why don’t you start with, ‘Killian, it’s so nice to meet you. How about you tell me a little about yourself?’”

Her answering eye roll reminded her she hadn’t properly removed her makeup from the night before, not having taken her usual five minutes in the lovers’ hotel room bathroom to allow for proper skin care. Fuck, her pores were going to be pissed.

“I’m not quite that polite, but fine. We’ll have it your way. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

That “little about himself” went on for about an hour, covering everything from his love of football to how underrated asiago cheese was on casual dining menus. They disagreed on silly subjects like the best fast food and what to take on a deserted island. They pretty much only agreed that David and Mary Margaret were insufferable and that love was for losers.

(And yes, that was the closest she got to unlocking even one small detail about his Tragic Backstory.)

They talked all the way to the next hole-in-the-wall bar, which did, in fact, like it might have some holes in it in the light of day.

“Thank the fucking lord we’re finally here. Will you two shut up now?” Ruby moaned into the seat cushion, apparently not as knocked out as Emma had assumed from her unmoving silence the entire ride.

“’s not our fault you two oafs don’t use the nighttime for sleeping,” Killian snarked back at her.

Hmm. Maybe they’d gotten more acquainted than Emma had realized.

Add that to the pile of Killian Jones-related mysteries.

Graham had been so exhausted, he didn’t even awake when the van emptied out, still snoozing even as they hauled all their shit into the bar. Just to be a jerk, Emma even tossed a drum stick at him. But he just grumbled and turned, unfazed by her minor assault.

“Hope he lost sleep for the good reason, if you know what I mean,” Killian said, as he bumped his shoulder into hers. He was carrying a guitar case in his right hand and had his left forearm wrapped around one of the boxes carrying electrical equipment.

“Yes, in that tone, I’m pretty sure people up in Vermont know what you mean?”

“I’m not sure about that one. Have you been to Vermont? I don’t think I’ve ever met a fuckable person from that whole state.”

“Don’t say that around David. I’m 99% sure he’d fuck Bernie Sanders.”

The two of them laughed so hard they almost dropped their very expensive equipment, especially when David, as if on cue, turned back toward them: “what’s in Vermont? There’s this ski place I’ve wanted to go to…”

Their laughter turned to near howling as poor, out-of-the-loop David rambled on about Mt. Snow being a great place to take a date and how exactly that could be so funny that two people who’d met last night had already been reduced to giggling middle schoolers.

Mary Margaret and Killian quickly started setting up for their set, even though they had a few hours until people would actually show (she was a worrier, and it was technically his first day on the job). So that gave the other slackers some time to rest and eat greasy food and hopefully get properly buzzed before the show so Emma didn’t have a random panic attack at some dude wearing a blue plaid shirt with pink Vans like Neal used to, once upon a time.

Catching up on the night before was usually their breakfast routine, but having avoided that, Emma assumed she’d just end up not knowing how Graham and Ruby had spent their time. Thankfully, both were perfectly happy to provide a secondary replay of their evenings.

Well, Ruby was happy to. See, she hadn’t done anything scandalous the night before. No fucking strangers for her! Turns out, a friend of hers from college lived in that little town and she’d gone over to her place to catch up. Friends old and new were there and she mostly missed out on sleep for conversation and a few truly ridiculous board games (who played Chutes and Ladders when they were plastered?).

Graham, on the other hand, had not had as enjoyable an evening. He’d met a girl, a very pretty girl, and she’d asked him back to her place. He had enthusiastically agreed right up until he was pounding into her against her kitchen counter only to be interrupted by her boyfriend. Thankfully there was no macho how dare you touch my girlshowdown, but it did leave Graham with a bad case of blue balls and nowhere to sleep.

“Wait! Why didn’t you come to the van with me? I don’t bite,” Emma protested as Graham was describing wandering the roads with streetlights until it was appropriately light enough to be breakfast time.

“You don’t think that’s the first place I went? I peeked my head in the fan and saw his shaggy ass and thought you might actually have taken the leap and met someone. No chance in hell I was going to spook you if you finally found a guy you didn’t want to murder on first sight.”

She yelped out a very offended hey, but deep down, he wasn’t wrong. He and David were just the only two men to ever prove to her they were interested in her as a human being and not a punching bag or human fleshlight. She was thankful for finding them and realizing that the whole not all men has some merit, but not enough to take any chances on a guy.

“Well now that you know your assessment couldn’t have been further from the truth, I bet you’re feeling pretty silly for missing out on sleep.”

“No, I stand by my decision. But, yeah, tonight I’m crashing in the van with you two. Unless, I mean, if you ever want privacy with him…”

“YES!” Ruby squealed. “You two would make the cutest babies. You know, someday. With little leather jackets and horrendous attitudes. It would be legit adorable.”

From the corner of her eye she could see David’s face turning fuchsia and she was reminded of the speech he’d apparently given Killian that morning (as if she needed protecting). Not even close.

“Hah, very funny there, Rubes. You think he’s so good looking, you can go for it.”

“Oh, no you will not!” David shouted. “No casual sex within the band.”

(Hey, at least he was yelling at someone who wasn’t her.)

“But you and Mary Margaret!” she protested.

“Nothing casual about that. Marry Killian, fine. I’ll throw the bridal shower. But do not fuck him for fun. We need him and he doesn’t need another mess.”

Before Emma had a chance to ask David to elaborate on that clear Tragic Backstory Hint, Mary Margaret and Killian plopped down at the table, set-up apparently finished.

“So… what do we do now?” Killian asked, the blunt end of his left arm fiddling with the thick ring on his right thumb.

Mary Margaret, David, and Graham collectively responded, “Eat!”

Ruby and Emma were more of the let’s get drunk frame of mind and instead replied, “Shots!”

So the crew of six ordered shots for 12 and their first official day as a team had begun.

By the time they were being announced for the stage, Emma was red-faced and stumbling, Mary Margaret was giggling about the word “banana” and Killian had already told sixteen different dirty jokes, all met with a deeper scowl from Emma each time.

That night Graham’s drumming was just a tad out of sync and David forgot that he wasn’t actually supposed to sing the girl parts of their one duet-style song, but none of that mattered. The crowd was wild, totally tuned in and screaming their hearts out right along with them. Halfway through their set, just before Emma relinquished lead vocals to Mary Margaret for Sappy Hour, she clutched the microphone in her hand, swaying as she returned it to the stand at the edge of the stage, yelling, “I love everyone in this bar!”

This whole ‘having friends’ thing just got better and better every single day.

Especially when puking in the dumpster at 3am. You find out who your friends are, right about then, and only Ruby was mockingly taking SnapChat videos. Killian got her water and Graham held her hair and the last thing she remembered before she passed out was telling the other strays she was just so glad they all somehow found each other.

#cs ff #cs au #multichapter #keisha writes #i could use a love song

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eagesoldartblog · 5 years

Text

Hello~ Its a lovely day and today is the day for a lovely gal

Chloe

Whumptober

Pinned down

You aren’t some little girl, remember that.

Chloe glares at the mirror, disgusted by seeing her own reflection in the first time in centuries.

“I really hate this thing.” She grumbles, flicking the reflected nose, her own was red. Scorched from the blaze of sunlight. Pick up more sunscreen. She adds to her mental list, 74 and counting, before reaching up and picking at the peeling skin, seeing blood instead trickle down.

“Ew..” Chloe grumbles, pulling her hood over her head and casting long shadows down her face. Only the complete darkness surrounding her face gave her comfort and security.

With a giggle, she yanks the curtain down to cover the mirror as she turns, skipping her way to the hallway and calling into it, “Venus~ Neptune!” She cries out, gaze immediately falling on her two precious bastards dogs lying in one of their many beds. At the very end, the shadow of a large sword is knocked over, Chloe cant help her scowl, “Bacchus... put that down!”

The dog spins his head around, swinging the large, golden sword and lodging it in the wall. When the sword refused to budge, Bacchus growls and yanks it more.

“Hey! You’re ripping up my wall paper!”

Bacchus didn’t seem to hear her, instead only hearing the bark in her tone. Panicked- and probably way too excited from the treats given to them earlier, Bacchus rips them sword from the wall and races through the rest of them, a scrap being the only indication that the sword is slashing the walls.

”OI!!” Leaping over Venus and Neptune, Chloe slides across the floor- bracing herself to slam into the wall. She rubs her throbbing scalp with a slight grimace until she notices that there’s a single stripe of evidence of Bacchus destroying even more wallpaper!

“EXCUSE YOU! That was from a friend!!” Her cloak flies up, moving forth from the large, bat-like wings protruding and sprouting out, and in a quick bustle of movement and flapping, she’s spirally down the hall. Fangs bared in fury as her pup yelps and dives left. Shimmering his way into an open vent WHY IS IT OPEN?! and crawling in, the sword barely dangling from his mouth as he crawls.

“Bacchus, come ON!” Chloe shouts, voice straining as both her eyes and wings shine a brilliant green, the start of horns pointing from her forehead. Green mist flowing from under her clothes.

Peering down the vent shaft, Chloe catches the scent of oils and metals, and curses.

“Bacchus- you’re going to get hurt!” She screams, trying to catch the dogs attention and flashing down the corridor.

Snatching up a thin, colorful, rug, Chloe glides along her ceiling and walls, bouncing off one of her covered mis-hung mirrors and launching herself foreword and into the most dangerous room in the house for a dog!

Despite the tall stands of armor and walls filled with twisted swords and sharpened staffs, Bacchus eagerly jumps behind one to the other, thankfully lacking the sword from before but now energetic and jumping from spot to spot. Swallowing, Chloe quickly takes in the room before honing in on the giant pup.

“Bacc... c’mere boy..” She whispers, the bone in her hands enforcing and growing sharp, even more as the whine of the stands grew. They’re going to fall, and if you aren’t careful, they’re going to kill your dog, Chloe!

“Bacc~y! Come, boy! C’mere!” She coos softly, hiding the rug behind her. Bacchus’s tail wags, fast too, slapping the tall stands furiously, but lacking the sword- which is.. better, but not by much. Most already unsteady and threatening to fall, so much so that she kept her wings high up and blocking herself from the wardrobe sized cases that were bound to collapse. Renovate this place to be dog-safe since they’re all idiots. She growls, adding it to the list and keeping her focus directed on Bacchus. Who keeps wagging, completely oblivious to what’s happening around him.

“Baaacchus...! Come! Come boy, come to mommy!!”

He barks, dropping to his chest to play.

The creak of the nearest stand to Bacchus crescendos into a shrieking whine.

”BACCHUS!” Without a further moment of hesitation, Chloe launches herself at the dog, the rug covering the jumping mass as she moves over them both. Twisting her head at the last minute to see one of the sturdy cases falling down on her, rolls of daggers and knives slipping out, blade first.

”Shit.”

Bacchus yelps and whimpers, trapped beneath the rug- a special magic infused rug Chloe got from scamming a dumb pawn shop owner- and the loud clatter of swords and armor collapsing onto Chloe herself.

Who could have been better, considering she needed to grit her teeth in order to keep herself from falling as well (not that it would do much, the rug was as stiff as steel and acting as a perfect shelter for Bacchus, and it would stay that way until all the pressure is removed.)

It still hurt. Blood began to drip from her wings, sweeping into her clothes and into the rug, and for a moment, Chloe has no possible idea what she can do to fix any of this while shish-kebabbed by several different daggers and blades, a few of which now protruding from her stomach.

“Jesus.. Christ!” She whimpers, fangs beginning to protrude from the scents surrounding her, ”HEY SIRI!!” She screams, hoping to god (wherever she was!) that her phone stayed in her pocket.

”What can I help you with, Galaxy Bat?”

“C-call... K-“

”Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

”CALL MONS- KLUB!”

”Calling...”

Chloe lets out a sigh of frustration as the phone rings, trying to both stretch her wings and keep them as still as possible- letting more blades slice and slide deeper. She bites her tongue to not cry.

”Duet speaking, how may I be of service?” A familiar voice speaks through her pocket.

“Fuck- I didn’t want you! Gahh.. fine, Duet, i'm stuck in a pickle, can you and the others come over here and help me?”

”Oh? What occurre-“

“I have seven blades sticking out of my chest, just get here and help me.”

”On it, I’ll pick up the others on my way.” They hang up, leaving both her and Bacchus in silence and whimpering.

Chloe lets out a deep, angry sigh, “Thanks.”

#whumptober2019 #mystery skulls animated #Msa Chloe #Msa duet #msa #Yes hello lemme demonstrate my very limited vampire knowledge #Idk what kind of monster Chloe is #just know #she is one

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fanficsbytoast · 4 years

Text

Mischief Tango Chapter 2

After Tyler Cowie has a disastrous run-in with the Tesseract, she has to team up with the god (or sometimes goddess) of mischief to get rid of her new powers. Or at least, that’s plan.

Warnings for story: M Language, T violence, T sex

Warnings for chapter: M language

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

“It has taken me a long time to find this place. You should be commended.” That voice…so distant…so cold. “Help him up.” There was a grunt and a groan from someone, but the cold voice continued. It belonged to a man. He was…German? “I think that you are a man of great vision. And, in this way, we are much alike.” “I am nothing like you,” snarled the voice of another. Golly, I couldn’t see anything! Where were these voices even coming from? “No,” said the German, “of course, but what others see as superstition, you and I know to be a science.” There was a pause before the other man responded. “What you seek is just a legend.” “Then why make such an effort to conceal it?” asked the German. There was a crash and a bang and the sound of stone against a hard floor. “The Tesseract was the jewel of Odin's treasure room.” Something glass shattered against the floor. “It is not something one buries.” The German’s voice became quieter. More sinister. “But I think it is close, yes?” “I cannot help you,” said the other man. “No. But maybe you can help your village. You must have some friends out there. Some little grandchildren, perhaps? I have no need for them to die.” There was another pause, but then the voice seemed to get louder. “Yggdrasil. Tree of the world. Guardian of wisdom. And fate, also.” There was the sound of scraping stone, and light flooded around me. I was suddenly lifted out of the dark place where I was and held up to the light. A man in all black stared up at me. “And the Fuhrer digs for trinkets in the desert.” Fuhrer? What the—was he talking about Hitler? This son of a bitch was a Nazi? Oh, dang, I needed to get out of here and as far away— “You have never seen this, have you?” asked the German, and the other man: A small, old fellow dressed in a dusty, disheveled suit. “It's not for the eyes of ordinary men,” said the old man. “Exactly,” said the German. He turned around, and I could no longer see the old guy. “Give the order to open fire.” The old man started to panic. “Fool! You cannot control the power you hold. You will burn!” The German turned back to him. I saw the terror and anger in the old man’s eyes as the Nazi growled in a cold, vicious tone, “I already have.” And before anything else could happen, I was lying in a dark, damp alleyway, with the patter of raindrops falling around me. Wait…what just…what was going on? Didn’t I just grab that cube thing? I did, and now…I’d hit the wall and then…I was here? I tried to sit up, but my back spasmed. Honestly, it should have hurt a lot worse. That blast should have at least broken my ribs. Granted, all I could do was lay there and moan, but still: I should have been dead. It was dark, as the streetlights from beyond the building had all been blown out by the blast. The only light came from the blue cube, which rested a few feet away from me. The two monsters were stirring. One of them looked straight at me, and all I could do was stare back. And then, before I could move, he snatched up the cube (and for whatever reason, it didn’t explode in his hand). He and his friend jumped to their feet, and then a glowing mass of blue appeared beside them. It sucked them in like a vacuum, and then they were gone. The vacuum was gone. The light was gone. And I was here, lying around, and that creepy guy was probably nearby. Despite the pain, I fumbled around in my pockets for my phone. When I turned it on, the harsh, white light illuminated the alleyway. Sure enough, the creepy guy was still there. He looked pale and sickly, his long, dark hair slick with sweat and his hand clutched at the wound in his gut. Some part of me wanted to run for it and put whatever this mayhem was behind me. I’d never look back, and I’d just pretend it never happened and I’d go on with my life with hopefully nothing more than some mild PTSD. But creepy or not, this guy had convinced the monsters not to kill me. He was going to let me go free…with a threat, of course, but a threat was a lot better than just gutting me on the spot with a giant icicle. I crawled towards him, carefully, with half of my brain screaming for me to run and the other half burning with curiosity. The man did not acknowledge me as I bent over him. I gingerly moved his hand away from his stomach. His white shirt was looked just like Brendon’s had when I’d knocked over the wine glass, only this wasn’t wine. How was he even still alive? Well, he wouldn’t be for long. I held up my phone to call 911. Wait, did 911 even work here? What was the emergency number for Britain? Ugh, Google it. Unsure of what else to do, I took of my jacket and tried to press it against the wound. Would that even work, since the blade went straight through him? “Hey Siri, how do I call for an ambulance in London?” “Now playing the song Ambulance by Blur.” Funky notes and music started blasting from my phone’s crappy speaker, and I rushed to turn it off. “No! No! Just…just give me the number of the nearest hospital!” “You have already watched five hours of Grey’s Anatomy this week.” “What—I did not! That’s a lie! And—ugh, never mind! I’ll do it myself!” I started typing ‘how to call 911 in London’, but the man let out a groan. I reached towards him. “Hey, sir? Just, uh, just hold in there—” His hand suddenly gripped my wrist, and his eyes shot open and glared at me. “How…are you…alive…?” “Yeah, beats me. But you’re not going to be if—wait!” My phone had finally pulled up instructions to call in emergency responders. “Just sit back, all right? I��m calling the hospital—” “No!” His voice was suddenly stronger and angrier. I nearly dropped my phone onto the hole in his chest. “B-but you’re losing a lot of blood! You’re going to die if I don’t—" “Don’t…no…hospital…” He sounded like he was begging, and with his hand on my wrist like that I wasn’t really in a position to argue. Even dying, I had a feeling he could probably kill me. Didn’t those giant guys say he’d killed someone? Maybe I should be calling the police instead of the hospital, but that might make him even angrier and then he’d magic me into a frog or something. That, and while the guy had threatened me, he’d also saved me and I was really conflicted on whether or not those giants were telling the truth about him being a murderer. “Okay, I won’t.” He relaxed, letting go of my hand and shifting like he was trying to sit up. He was barely off the ground before he grunted and fell back again. Sweat was pouring down his face, but he was shivering, too. “Hey, mister?” No response. I hesitated, then prodded him in the side. “Mister, hey, wake up!” Um, okay, not good. Not good at all. “Hey! Look at me! Don’t go towards the light!” All he did was groan. All right, so I couldn’t call the ambulance, but I couldn’t just leave him bleeding out like this. I moved my jacket away from the wound, only to freeze in shock. Green light peeked out from his insides. Was he…healing himself? I mean, he obviously had powers, but that was really overpowered. Well, that would be if he was a fictional character and not some real-life alien magician guy. How long was this going to take though? I had an answer to that: Not fast enough. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously. I needed to get out of here. Rather, we needed to get out of here because the rain couldn’t be good for anyone, especially a guy who’s losing his guts. So no hospital. What was I supposed to do, then? Drag him back to my apartment? Come on. I wasn’t strong enough for that. My only other option was… “Siri, get me an Uber.”

#loki #loki x oc #loki fic #loki fanfic #original character #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfiction

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bittenscreations · 7 years

Text

Bye, Mia

Supernatural fiction with original characters. First part of a ?? length series. Possible triggers include: blood, violence, kidnapping, panic attack, gore.

It was late, and Mia was ready to go home. She gathered up her things, locked her computer, and stood up just as the office lights went out. It wasn’t the first time she’d worked so late, though, and she was prepared. Picking up her phone, she opened the menu and turned on the flashlight. The icon lit up, but nothing else happened.

“What the hell?” She tried again, tapping the icon twice. Nothing changed, so she sighed and grabbed her bag. She knew from previous experience that she could make it to the exit by using the small amount of light from the exit signs & regularly spaced safety lights.

As she walked through the abandoned halls, she was comforted by the regular nighttime sounds of the office: distant vacuuming as the cleaning staff tidied up, the echoing footsteps of the security guards as they made their rounds, and faint murmurs of other people making their way out of the building. A tiny scrabbling sound caught her attention and she frowned. Had another mouse gotten into the building somehow? The last one had wreaked havoc on the files before it was caught.

“Hey, Siri, make a note,” she said, holding up her phone.

“Ok I can take that note for you, just tell me what you want it to say,” the digital assistant replied.

Before she could answer, she heard a noise that sounded vaugely like laughter? Something sniffing? She wasn’t sure. She strained her ears to see what it was or where it had come from.

The phone in her hand spoke again, startling her. “Creating your note…here’s your note.” She looked down at the screen in surprise, then quickly glanced around. ‘I’m coming for you,’ was displayed in the area where Siri usually displayed whatever it had heard.

“Very funny,” Mia called, fear coloring her voice. “How did you manage to mess with my phone? It was on the desk next to me all day.” She turned, looking for someone in the depths of the shadows. If someone was trying to play a prank on her, they probably weren’t far away.

“Not far, no,” Siri responded to her thoughts, startling her again.

“Who’s there?” Mia whirled around again. It occurred to her that standing in the darkness & trying to find someone in its depths wasn’t the smartest thing to do, so she started walking toward the security desk to report the harrassment. She heard muffled footsteps behind her, and glanced back to find no one there. She walked faster, glad that she wore sneakers for the walk out to her car. As she passed under a security light, the rest of them went out.

Her text alert rang into the darkness, making her jump. As she glanced at the phone, she saw the text message for a brief moment before the screen glitched and went black. 'Gotcha,’ was all it said.

The light above her dimmed, brightened, and went out. As she stood in the darkness with her heart hammering frantically, she smelled something like burnt rubber. She heard the scrabbling sound again, louder this time, and realized that whatever was making the noise was too big to be a mouse. It sounded more like…like human-sized claws scraping along the office wall. She backed away from the noise, keeping one hand on the wall to guide herself.

“Yes,” Siri spoke from her hand again, “they’re claws.”

Mia threw her phone in the direction of the scrabbling and turned to run. She could make out the light of an exit sign in the distance. As she reached the door, the light went out. She threw open the door and felt warm air on her face. Something about it seemed wrong, though. The air outside the office usually smelled like pine trees, but this had the same scent she’d noticed before. Was it hot metal or burnt rubber? The air changed direction, heating up as she heard laughter and she realized it wasn’t air at all. Someone or something was breathing on her face.

She screamed and backed away, pushing her hands in front of her to ward off whoever it was. All she felt was the metal of the door as it swung shut. She listened for the claws behind her, but only heard the sound of her own harsh breathing. Her chest tightened painfully, and she wondered if she was having a heart attack. Did women hallucinate during heart attacks? She couldn’t remember the symptoms.

“Symptoms of heart attacks in women include breathlessness,” Siri again answered her thoughts. Mia could see the faint light from her phone as she looked back in the direction she’d thrown it. As she started crawling toward the phone, it continued reciting, “sweating, pain or discomfort in your chest or upper back, lightheadedness or dizziness, severe anxiety or confusion, and a feeling of impending doom.”

Mia reached out to her phone, ready to call 911. She had all of those symptoms, and more.

“The symptoms do not include hallucinations,” a different voice spoke from the darkness behind her. Mia screamed again as a hand closed around her ankle. The hand pulled her backward and she fell, hitting her head on the floor. As she blacked out, she felt the same hot breath against the back of her neck. The scent of burnt rubber (or was it hot metal? She still wasn’t sure) surrounded her, following her awareness into the depths of her mind.

As Mia came to, she could feel her hands tied behind her back. She tried to wiggle loose, but stopped as she felt the rope biting into her wrists painfully. She heard the laughter again, and looked around for the source.

She was sitting in a chair, in the center of a dim pool of light. She couldn’t see much beyond a few feet, but it looked like she was in an empty concrete room. Something moved in the darkness at the edge of her vision, and she turned to look at it.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Did you rest well?” a hoarse, somewhat familiar-sounding voice replied with an eerie chuckle.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” Mia asked, terrified.

“I suppose I do owe you an answer, in thanks for such a wonderful meal. Dinner AND a show,” the voice said, and Mia could make out a human-looking form in the darkness. The figure moved closer and began clapping slowly. “Such a wonderful performance,” it mocked.

As the figure moved into the light, Mia’s first thought was that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Its hands were black, the fingers too long, ending in sharp-looking claws. As she stared, Mia realized that the black faded partway up the thing’s forearms, splitting into ragged lines that disappeared at various intervals as paler skin took over. The thing moved further into the light, and Mia realized with a start that she recognized the face.

“Theresa? What are you doing? Let me go, now!” she exclaimed.

“Theresa isn’t here right now,” the thing said in that same hoarse voice, and Mia realized it sounded like Theresa with a bad case of laryngitis.

“Would you like to leave a message?” Siri asked from her feet. Mia looked down and saw her phone, with the same glitchy screen she’d seen earlier.

“Ah, Siri,” the thing (Theresa?) cooed. “You played your part well, too. Of course,” it (she?) continued, Siri speaking in unison with it, “I DO have a way with technology.”

Mia blinked, recognizing one of Theresa’s favorite phrases. “Theresa, please let me go,” she begged.

“I told you,” the thing spat, “Theresa isn’t HERE right now!” A strange layer of static surrounded the thing that was Theresa, her voice overlaid with multiple tones. “You could say she’s gone on vacation.” Its mood changed suddenly, and it chuckled at some inner amusement. “But you asked some questions, and I agreed to answer them. You know part of who I am. Well, you know who my vessel is, at least. A better question would have been 'what are you,’ but I’ll give you that for free. I am a manifestation of pain, fear, and rage. As to the second question: you’re here because you’re the one who created me.”

“What? I don’t understand,” Mia protested. “I didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Oh, but you did,” the thing replied. “Everytime Theresa pushed aside her anger & rage at your idiocy, each time she literally bit her tongue or dug her nails into her palms under the table, all the times she kept silent for fear of losing her job; all of those things she pushed aside in the name of 'professionalism’,” it sneered, “had to go somewhere. For most people, those things just fester in their soul, or they find ways to work through them: alocholism, drugs, painting, escapism, kickboxing classes, all those coping mechanisms. Theresa, though, she never did any of those. She let her imagination roam instead. Every bit of pain became a spark, every instance of fear became a drop of oil, each moment of rage was a piece of wood on a funeral pyre she built for you all in her mind.”

“But why me?” Mia interrupted.

“Every time you went to your supervisor because you knew he would push until you got your way, every time you pretended not to understand a task so that someone else would have to do it, each moment you spent with that blank look on your face as she explained the same thing again and again, all of those were the logs that built your pyre. You built yourself a nice large bonfire, others fanned it into a towering inferno, and now it - or I should say 'I’ - have come to consume you all.” The thing pulsed with heat, seeming to grow and shrink before her eyes as it spoke. Mia stared at the thing in horror, just beginning to comprehend the situation she was in. This wasn’t a crazed Theresa, this was something else, something that didn’t care about losing a job or going to prison.

“You’re right,” it responded to her thoughts. “I don’t care about those things. Fire consumes, that’s all it does. And since you were so kind enough to create me with pain, fear, and rage, I decided to start with you.” The thing stared at her, and Mia realized that its veins and arteries, all of its blood vessels, had turned black. “It’s pitch, Mia. Theresa’s blood has turned to pitch in her veins.” The thing started to giggle as static covered its form. “I needed a way to keep myself alive in here until I consumed everything I could.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Mia began to cry in fear.

“It’s too late for that,” the thing sang. “I’m here now, and I’m hungry. Hungry for the things that created me in the first place. Theresa has all the rage I’ll ever need. I was surprised at that; I’d have expected her to have problems with depression or anxiety, given her past, but she is filled with rage. You were kind enough to treat me to a wonderful feast of fear earlier, and it should keep me sated for a day or two.”

“Then let me go!” Mia exclaimed. “If you already got what you wanted, you don’t need to keep me here.”

“Mia, Mia, Mia,” the thing spoke gently to her, explaining itself like an adult to a child. “Don’t you remember? There were three things that brought me here. Three things that I crave: rage, fear…” it hesitated, looking at her expectantly.

“And pain,” Mia finished in a whisper, realizing that she wasn’t going to leave here alive.

“And pain,” the thing agreed, smiling in approval. “You’ve given me a small taste, but I need more.” It moved closer, gently caressing her face with its claws.

Mia gasped as pain followed the path of that caress. She hadn’t realized the thing’s claws were razor sharp, parting the skin as they gently moved from her forehead and along the side of her jaw. She felt the warmth of her own blood running down her skin, and the thing leaned closer, still smiling.

“That’s it,” it whispered, and Mia felt its hot breath wash over her just before its tongue darted out and flicked along one of the blood trails. “Oh,” it murmured in surprise, “I didn’t know she had a taste for blood, too.”

The last thing Mia was aware of, before the world disappeared into a haze of pain, was the thing’s delighted laughter and the smell of its breath, now tinged with the copperish smell of her own blood. Then the thing grabbed the flap of skin it had separated from her jawline and began to peel off her face, and Mia knew nothing but pain and screaming for a long, long time.

#possible trigger #blood #violence #kidnapping #panic attack #supernatural #rage #darkness

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