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tanoraqui · 4 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2]

[now all on AO3!]

As Nie Huaisang pulls his horse to a halt, as he clumsily dismounts and begs his san-ge to speak with him in private and they walk off to the side of the road together, Nie Huaisang’s eyes down and his fan covering most his face in embarrassment, he thinks very quickly, and decides faster. He’d promised himself he would do that, next time something like this happened

Here is some of what he thinks:

if the lifeblood of Qishan was power and the heart of Qinghe is strength, then the vital spark of Lanling is appearance. Nie Huaisang has always admired this, even yearned for it - imagine being born to a sect in which it was okay to just sit around and look pretty! Sure, they go a bit overboard with gilt, but who wouldn’t, if they had the money? QingheNie has a fortress in the mountains; LanlingJin has a golden tower overlooking one of the biggest ports in the empire, trade and art and culture all within reach

Conversely, they also thrive on secrets - the dark side of golden, glittering appearance. They’re not so different from QishanWen like that, because information is power. That’s why gossip is a thing

Nie Huaisang has no particular reason to distrust Jin Guangyao, personally. He’s always been very kind to Nie Huaisang, bringing him lovely new fans and paints and a beautiful finch one time. Da-ge doesn’t trust him, for reason of some things JGY did in the war, but da-ge has such high standards for conduct that it’s a miracle he trusts anyone after the Sunshot Campaign. (And it’d help if he told NHS anything about those alleged untrustworthy “things”...) Wen Qing doesn’t trust him, but in fairness, it was her side that he betrayed. That could sour anyone. Even putting aside the possibility that she’s deliberately sowing discord for some devilish Wen reason.

Admittedly, anything that Nie Huaisang says to him will almost certainly get back to Jin Guangshan, unless it’s of a truly personal nature - and perhaps even then. Secrets and gossip and power, after all, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that Jin Guangyao is desperate to please his father

even if the old bastard doesn’t deserve it an inch

So the question is, what is Nie Huaisang comfortable having known, and to whom? What does he want to appear as, to whom? And what is he willing to risk coming to light?

He thinks very fast, and soon as they’re well-out of earshot of his disciple-assistants and newly acquired Wen grandmother, he flings himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms, wailing.

(it’s a little difficult, because Jin Guangyao is one of the few men Nie Huaisang knows who’s shorter than he is.)

“San-ge, it’s not my fault! It’s all gone wrong! I just wanted to get out of saber practice, but then Wen Qing told da-ge something completely different, and then she made be get a baby, and - ”

The whole story comes out, in stops and starts mixed with helpless, hapless sobs. Nie Huaisang downplays Wen Qing’s successes with his brother, or at least mostly ignores them. He mentions A-Yuan’s nightmares only so far as they inconvenience himself, doesn’t comment on the Wens’ state of life at all, and generally exaggerates every terrible and bewildering situation he’s found himself in since he first happened to glance at Jiang Yanli at Phoenix Mountain

He figures Jin Guangyao probably sees through at least 20% of it, but that’s okay - that’s only deep enough to pierce the outer layer of overdramatics, which are mostly embellishments of the truth anyway, and maybe judge that Nie Huaisang has a soft heart for a cute kid

it’s a very cute kid, okay. NHS saw Nie Mingjue sneaking A-Yuan a piece of candy once. No one is safe

he doesn’t tell Jin Guangyao that

Nearly an hour later, Jin Guangyao peels Nie Huaisang gently off of his (now quite tear-damp) shoulder and smiles at him. It’s gentle, sympathetic, and the only thing it seems to be hiding is a laugh

Nie Huaisang is 99% sure of this assessment. Fortunately, he’s free to let his relief show, along with some healthy trepidation

“I won’t tell da-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, and there’s barely any humor to be seen dancing in his eyes. It’s really impressive, now that Nie Huaisang is learning what to look for.

“Really?” Nie Huaisang sniffles. “I just- He tries so hard, you know. I don’t want to disappoint him, not really.”

it really is all about using the truth. if it wasn’t so stressful, it’d be an incredible high

“Of course not.” Jin Guangyao squeezes him gently by the shoulders. “What is a san-ge for, if not to look out for his littlest brother?”

Nie Huaisang could definitely make a crack about his height smiles shakily and flings his arms around JGY’s shoulders again. “Oh, thank you! Thank you for your help!”

Jin Guangyao hugs him back gently and efficiently, then starts to tug him back to the waiting horses and by-now-dismounted companions. “Go on, get your A-Yuan’s granny back to Nie Sect and get yourself a good night’s sleep. I’ll make sure they’re both marked correctly as requisitioned for labor in Qinghe”

Nie Huaisang thanks him several more times, wiping away his tears like someone who just remembered that he’s not supposed to appear so weak in public. Jin Guangyao waves goodbye as he mounts his sword and flies away, and Nie Huaisang waves back, and then he and his assistants and his newly acquired A-Yuan’s Granny ride home

[they’re never going to be relevant again but I want you all to know that in my mind, these two dumb bastards are brothers with rhyming names, like, Xi Ping and Xi Ying or something. RIP Xi Ping and Xi Ying and their eardrums after NMJ reams them out for helping NHS do something stupid again]

And then...

they actually have peace for several months.

Oh, the cold war between Jing and Jiang - or more accurately, between Jin and Wei Wuxian - is still brewing like fine tea, and Nie Huaisang finds himself paying more attention than usual to the gossip about it, because Wens come up as often as not. They're the prime example of the destructive power of the Stygian Tiger Seal, after all. And NHS has four of them living in his house, now

the gossip spikes deliciously when Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan get engaged, though it somehow neither eases nor increases the tension in either side

{the timeline is rubbish anyway, so it’s whatever’s convenient for this fic, thank you very much}

Nie Sect’s physicians are too proud to let Wen Qing take over their infirmary wholesale, but they don’t hesitate to consult with her on pretty much everything. Wen Ning turns out to be pretty fun to play checkers with, whether he lets Nie Huaisang win or gets invested enough to actually put up a good fight. Despite Granny’s addition to the orphan-caring staff, A-Yuan still slips away most days and follows Nie Huaisang around like a particularly persistent curse-construct. On the plus side, he’s learning how to be patient enough that the bolder birds will sit on him as readily as on Nie Huaisang himself, and he painted an entirely acceptable butterfly the other day.

Oh, and the veins in Nie Mingjue’s neck are only visible when he shouts, now, and enough time has passed that he’s forgotten about Nie Huaisang’s earlier, rash promise to practice saber for an extra half hour each day. Or maybe he’s just resigned to the fact that such promises never last. This is truly the best timeline!

And then the worst happens, out of the blue yet in retrospect inevitable: Nie Mingjue has a severe qi deviation

He’s coming back from a meeting in Lanling, which wasn’t so much a discussion conference as Jin Guangshan calling a handful of sect leaders together to bitch about the Wei Wuxian and the Tiger Seal again. Wen Qing is in the infirmary, setting a young disciple’s broken leg. Nie Huaisang is in his bedroom, trying to write an ode to snowflakes that, read aloud, is a single tone off from a recitation of curse words for the entire poem. They both hear the shouting from the main courtyard

Wen Qing has a doctor’s reflexes; she leaves the leg to an assistant and arrives in the courtyard in time to watch Nie Mingjue collapse out of the air. The disciples who accompanied him to Lanling are there to catch him, ease him down gently, but Baxia clatters to the ground

Nie Huaisang sees it from his window. By the time he gets there, his brother is laid out flat and Wen Qing and the Chief Physician are snapping clipped phrases at each other as they assess his status, in the mode of emergency responders everywhere

the Chief Physician doesn’t like Wen Qing, doesn’t like Wens, but he can respect her medical talents. Both sentiments are mutual - Wen Qing has a much more comprehensive skillset, but if there’s anything Nie healers know, it’s how to handle qi deviation

qi deviations are difficult and dangerous to treat - the spiritual energy starts cascading through a cultivator’s body, untamed and harmful, and adding soothing energy may help but it may make it worse, or even cause the chaos to spread to the would-be healer

{I actually have no idea how any of this works, and will henceforth be making up my own worldbuilding}

Nie Mingjue’s eyes have rolled back in his head, bleeding, and he shakes like a leaf in the wind, incongruous to the warrior who led attacks on the Nightless City itself. Who held his brother like a guarding stone wall at their father’s funeral. Nie Huaisang cannot breathe

they get him stabilized enough to move up to the infirmary. Someone eases up their grip on Nie Huaisang’s body so he could follow (he won’t remember until later that he was being held back)

It takes four hours to stabilize him fully (unlucky). His golden core tries to collapse three times, his heart stops twice, and his fucking saber tries to attack them once, seemingly of its own initiative. Several other healers join in as needed, even Wen Ning - he’s always been good at getting seizing patients to still. Wen Qing rates it below the 39-hour golden core transfer with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, in terms of worst surgeries of her life, but above nearly everything else, including the emergency liver transfer where the girl turned out to have all her organs on the opposite side and a side order of demon-induced pneumonia

Nie Huaisang has been sitting in the corridor outside, on the floor. Someone's put a cloak on him. He looks up when they exit, forgetting how to breath again.

“He’s unconscious,” says the Chief Physician, who is probably some sort of distant uncle/cousin. “But he should wake. He will wake,” he corrects.

Wen Qing takes a deep breath. “We need to talk somewhere private.”

By the time Nie Huaisang has at least gotten to see his brother, get proof that he’s still breathing, the First Disciple has joined them as well (I mean, that position is sure as hell not held by NHS). Her name is Han Xiaoshi and she’s built in the same mold as the sect leader: tall, broad, wields her saber like a third hand. She leans against the closed door of the Chief Physician’s office while the Chief Physician - let’s say Nie Fengji - gives a slightly less brief explanation of the sect leader’s current state.

(it’s not good. he’s in a semi-medically induced coma. he is bleeding neither blood nor spiritual energy. he...should wake, in his own time, if they continue to carefully feed his healing energy)

(if he wakes within three days, he will be fine. for now)

Nie Huaisang’s blood pounds hot and panicked in his ears; an unthinking fan covers his face.

they all turn to Wen Qing, who wanted privacy.

Wen Qing soothes hands over her skirt, still blood-flecked, and lifts her chin calmly. Addresses the First Disciple more than anyone. “Before I begin, would you please put a guard each on my bedroom and the apothecary, and my brother’s room as well?”

“What? Why?” asks Nie Huaisang, bewildered. Han Xiaoshi echoes more sternly

She smiles thinly. “I’d rather not be accused of trying to assassinate Chifeng-zun.”

Nie Huaisang’s blood turns cold

“Keep talking,” says Han Xiaoshi

Here’s what Wen Qing explains: there’s an herb grown on the same volcanic slopes into which the Nightless City is set, a grass that absorbs so much yin energy from the volcano that it carries it over into anyone who consumes the stalks, offsetting the natural balance of their spiritual energy. A closely guarded inner clan secret. It can allow for rare, advanced cultivation techniques (including demonic ones)...or it can spark a fatal qi deviation the next time the user tries to do anything spiritually strenuous. Like flying from Carp Tower to the Unclean Realm

“It’s almost impossible to detect in the blood,” she finishes. “But I recognize the pattern of its effects.” Her hands are clasped loosely in front of her. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find some planted in a place that draws suspicion to A-Ning or myself.”

“Who else would know about it?” Nie Huaisang demands, trembling even as the ice is settles into his veins

“Someone who was close to Wen Ruohan,” she says calmly

they all know who she means

(oh, how she wants to tremble, too, too aware of every sword in the room that could be turned against her. Aware of A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning, her brother in the corridor just outside, and how it still hasn’t been a year since Wen blood ran in the flagstones of this castle. But Wen Qing has never been one to shake)

“There’s something else I should say,” she admits, to Nie Huaisang more than anyone. “I don’t actually know much about qi deviation - I’ve had a crash course, obviously, and I’m not a fool, but I’m mostly been treating it as a blood pressure problem - ”

“Obviously,” the Chief Physician scoffs

“ - but my Uncle Six is a true expert. Wen Zhichen - he was friends with your aunt, Huaisang-gongzi; your older sister, Fengji-shifu [the previous Chief Physician, killed in battle in the fifth month of the Sunshot Campaign]. If anyone can wake Nie-zongzhi, it’s him - ”

she could have said this earlier, could have said it weeks ago, or even from the start - but she had Wen Ning to think of before anyone else, and then A-Yuan who was too young to have accumulated crimes even as a Wen...

Wen Qing had once noted that the second son of Nie had likely never felt fear, true fear, in his life. That’s not true anymore. His brother is unconscious in the next room over and it’s not sure if he’ll ever wake. And it’s consequences catching up with him again, for real this time, this maybe-first time - was it the Wens, villainous duplicitous Wens that he brought into their home himself? Was it someone else, equally traitorous, suspicion roused to a killing intent by something Huaisang did himself?

People do a lot things when they’re feel fear deep down to their souls. They scrape and bow; they make bargains they shouldn’t, accept costs they can’t. They bend or they break

Nie Huaisang is a fop by preference, but it turns out that he breaks like a Nie

He shoves Wen Qing against the wall, hand on her throat. “Tell me this isn’t a trick. Tell me this isn’t some fucking ploy to get more Wen-dogs into my home, so you can finish killing my brother.” He shakes her, drops the fan to put his hand on the saber he's terrible with (it still hums eagerly for blood.) “Tell me.”

“I am,” she gasps

There is a tableau. Then Nie Huaisang drops her and strides for the door. “Shijie, put guards on her rooms, her brother’s, and Granny’s,” he snaps to Han Xiaoshi. “Don’t let anyone enter. Gather the Wens all in the third guest bedroom and keep them there - make sure A-Yuan has some paints to keep him quiet. And I’ll need your two fastest - no, those with the best strength and endurance in flight - ”

“Nephew - ” says the Chief Physician, and “Young Master,” says the First Disciple, a little impressed and a medium dubious

the closest Nie Huaisang has ever gotten to this commanding before was the early days of the Sunshot Campaign when there were no battle lines to hide behind yet, when he sometimes followed Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji as they tore across the country and directed the clean-up of their wake

“The best strength and endurance,” he repeats over them. The fan stays on the floor. “We’re flying to Qishan - we’ll be back with an extra expert for you in a couple days, Uncle. In the meantime, you can have Wen Qing if you need her, but otherwise they all stay in the third guest room.”

It takes a full day to fly to the Wen settlement in Qishan, at Nie Huaisang’s best pace. Starting already late in the afternoon, full of anger and terrified panic in equal measure, it’s beyond late by the time they near - and all but the anger has simmered away. Nie Huaisang lets them settle near the nearest halfway decent city instead, forces himself to lay on the ground and try to sleep, and sends one of his disciples out to buy the nicest fan they can find. He left so fast, he forgot to pick one up again

When they land in the filthy little town just after dawn, he stumbles off his sword more than lands (he is genuinely tired, at least) and runs to hammer on the door of the supervisory office, all terror and panic. “Jin-guniang! Jin-guniang! Help, help! It’s me, Nie Huaisang! I need - ”

“What?!” The captain yanks the door open (she sleeps above the office) and he very much does fall into her arms

“Ah, you have to help me!” He’s disheveled with flight and weepy with tears. “Wen Qing poisoned my brother and now he won’t wake up, so I have to find her sixth uncle - ”

“What - Nie Huaisang, what? Is she threatening - that Wen-bitch - ”

“No, no, we beat up her brother until she said - please! He’s the best at qi deviation, even Uncle Physician admitted it - ”

make sure to have Wen Ning beaten up just enough to look good, he notes in a small, back corner of his mind. in case there are spies in the castle. I’d have spies, if I could

“Okay, okay!” Jin Qixian ushers him into the office, half-holding him up. “Let me check the list of residences - sit down, Huaisang-gongxi, someone will brew tea...”

[five minutes later...]

“A different camp?” Nie Huaisang cries, fluttering his new fan in dismay

“They needed a healer...” Jin Qixian says apologetically. “But you just wait here, I’ll send someone - ”

“No, no,” Nie Huaisang gets to his feet, shaking his head. Happy to let the exhaustion of a 10-hour flight and 4 hours fitful sleep in the woods show, and the desperate helplessness that’s really not hard to fake. “I have to- Da-ge is counting on me - ”

He waves off all her attempted reassurances, bullheaded with anxiety, and accepts an officially sealed note of authority with babbling gratitude, and...

[about an hour and a half later...]

the other town the remnants of the Wen sect and soldiers have been relegated to is more of a city, really - cramped and filthy, where the other one was merely destitute and filthy. Families living all in one room or worse, and it’s okay because they’re only home to sleep; the fields are already filled with everyone old enough to work. They probably do need healers, because there’s not enough attention being paid to waste management. But -

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Nie Huaisang demands more sharply than he’d intended

Focus, A-Sang. It’s Nie Mingjue’s voice in his head, always, as though this was just another hated saber practice

“I’m sorry, Young Master Nie,” says the disciple in charge of this place - Jin Guangchao, another stray cousin. does everyone in that family spread seed like a watering can? “There was an incident a few days ago - ”

“He’s dead?” Nie Huaisang wails, sinking to ground

“No!” Jin Guangchao looks a little disgusted at his helplessness, but bends down to pull him up anyway. “Jin Zixun came around on an inspection and that one you wanted, he was impudent. Jin Zixun ordered him sent to the work camp at Qiongqi Pass.”

mother of fucking fucker [meaning Jin Zixun; meaning the whole situation]. the man probably made eye contact and that overbearing asshole -

“That’s so far away!” Nie Huaisang whined, staying limp, crying into his fan

“Nie-shixiong, it is on the way - ” one of his disciples offers uncertainly (poor bastards - he’s really yanking them around. They’re not sure if they’re helping a con or offering real support)

“We’ll get him back to Chifeng-zun, and get Chifeng-zun back on his feet,” says the other, slipping her arm under his and pulling him to his own feet. “Come on, you’ll see”

(whether it’s for the con or not, Nie Huaisang appreciates it. They’ve never been this genuinely nice to him before)

there’s a conversation in the air halfway to Qiongqi Pass. It goes like this:

“Nie-shixiong, we have to rest. You have to rest.”

[gritted teeth] “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to fall off your sword.” (Liu Lifang, the older woman)

“Then you’ll carry me, won’t you? We’ll already have Wen Zhichen - we’ll double up.”

“Your, uh, dramatics - ” (Zhao Huandi, younger, male - there aren’t a lot of Nies, in Nie. There’s a lot of guest cultivators. There’s a lot of turnover.)

“Will be just as good, if not better, when I’m fainting from spiritual exhaustion.” [slightly bitter, mostly factual] “Don’t worry, I won’t deviate - I don’t use my saber enough for that.” [definitely exhausted] “We don’t stop.”

The work camp at Qiongqi Pass has all the bully-filled charm of Jin Qixian’s town and all the overworked labor je-ne-sais-quoi of the other one, and it’s started raining so there’s a really nice note of despair. If Nie Huaisang had any room left in his brain, he would mourn the beauty of the frescos being destroyed, grand and glorious works of art even if their glory was that of the Wens

he slides off Liu Lifang’s sword in the middle of the densest group of workers, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey! Wen Qing’s Sixth Uncle, Wen Zhichen of DafanWen! Nie Sect requisitions you!”

the prisoner-workers all shrink away; an inspector hurries over. “Hey, who are you - ”

“You will respect Second Master Nie Huaisang,” snaps Zhao Huandi, hand on his saber while Nie Huaisang starts to cry on cue for the third time that day, and god, either they’re really getting it or he’s just blessed with a sect full of perfect straight men.

“Please,” Nie Huaisang begs, leaning on his disciple and waving the letter from Jin Qixian. “I need a healer - that healer, it’s my brother, he’s been poisoned - ”

they’re real tears of exhaustion. maybe he should have let them talk him into a rest

(Da-ge will be fine, he knows, he insists to himself and the world. He was stable 24 hours ago and Nie Huaisang left him with the most competent people he knows)

the inspector has no idea what to do with him and neither does the Chief Inspector, really, when he rides up. That’s perfect - it means their half-hearted objections are easy to push past

they’re still shit at actually helping, because they don’t know a single person in this goddamned work-prison, and all the Wens just shy away, or pick up a pickaxe and try to keep working if anyone comes too near. The inspectors seem to regard this as ideal

Nie Huaisang honestly doesn’t care right now, but he does notice

Finally Nie Huaisang has wailed loudly enough up and down the valley that one prisoner hesitantly steps forward and admits to being the Dafan Wens’ Sixth Uncle. He has Wen Ning’s ears and Granny’s eyes and the same needle callouses as Wen Qing, so Nie Huaisang calls it a day

except they still have to fly back to the Unclean Realm, a flight of six hours unburdened

Nie Huaisang’s groan is entirely genuine

Wen Qing has taken to pacing by the time the Chief Physician comes to fetch her, personally, from the third guest bedroom. Night has come and gone and come again; A-Yuan and Granny are both asleep in the bed and Wen Ning is lying beside them, though she can tell he’s only pretending to sleep to make her feel better. What a good boy.

Sixth Uncle is sitting by Nie Mingjue’s bed in the infirmary, eating soup. There’s a couple Nie disciples in the room as well, one sending a slight stream of energy into Nie Mingjue and one simply watching the Wen, a hand on his saber hilt

(no one’s told her if they’ve searched her or anyone else’s rooms, yet; if they found anything)

“Keep sitting and eating!” snaps Nie Fengji, the Chief Physician, before Sixth Uncle can leap up at the sight of Wen Qing. “I need you talking qi balance, not falling over again.” He mutters under his breath, “People can’t even work if you let them get so weak - can’t trust a Jin to do anything with care.”

She sinks to her knees to hug her uncle instead - and notices a cot that’s been brought in to sit beside Nie Mingjue’s, its occupant also as still and wan as the grave.

“Huaisang!” She springs to her feet. “He didn’t - ”

“Exhaustion. The boy overworked his golden core and passed out.” Nie Fengji pushes her back with a roll of his eyes. “Bullheaded as their father, the both of them.”

He rolls up his sleeves and nudges the attending physician out of the way, to take over easing calming energy into Nie Mingjue without a single quiver in the stream. “Now, you two prove to me why I should trust any sort of Wen.”

To be continued...but Part 4 really will be the last, so, that’s p good actually. By my standards of mis-estimation of how long a piece of writing will be. And it’ll definitely be a short one! Unlike this Part 3, which is...*checks* 4.5k WTF.

#mdzs #the untamed #nie huaisang #wen qing #jin guangyao #a bunch of OCs who i named by mashing together random syllables and i'm not checking if any of them are real names bc it's 3am #ALSO wildly made up as i went: how to address anyone with any sort of title #just went with my gut #so like...apologies if i wildly messed up

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oohnoniall · 3 years

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A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC - Chapter One.

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

He hated snow and ice more than he hated anything. The chill in the air seemed to go straight to his soul, making him feel colder than he had in years.

There was a reason why Tamlin avoided the Winter Court.

The only reason he had decided it was a good idea to come was to see where Kallias' alliances were. He had sent out word to every High Lord, asking if they would speak with him. He would apologize for all that had happened. He would shoulder the weight even if it was not technically his to bear.

After all, he hadn't asked Amarantha to come to Prythian. Nor had he asked her to curse him. It wasn't his fault. Not really. That was what he kept telling himself when he woke in the middle of the night.

It was one of the reasons why he couldn't face Feyre when she did the same. Why he tried to ignore what was slowly happening to her. He wanted to protect her from the world. But he could not protect her from her own mind and the hells unleashed in her sleep. If he could, he would.

He tried not to think of Feyre and how she must feel being left at home with only Ianthe for comfort. Instead, he tried to focus on how unfamiliar the fur-lined coat felt against his broad shoulders and how his feet wanted to break free from the stifling of the fur-lined boots.

His normal pants and shirt would not suit the ice and snow of the Winter Court. Yet another reason for him to hate all of it.

Yet, he had to play by Kallias' rules. It was shocking enough that the High Lord of the Winter Court had allowed him to enter his domain. After Amarantha's attack, he wouldn't have been surprised had the Winter Court kept their borders completely closed. He assumed it was only because he had been responsible for bringing about their freedom that he was allowed free reign.

Soft laughter echoed down the ice-covered chamber he was walking through. His spine stiffened slightly as the scent of blood assaulted his nose. The bright, copper tang of it did not match the laughter that came with it.

"You got one good hit!" A woman called out with a bell-like laugh. His fingers twitched towards the knives that should have been hanging at his waist. His bandolier had been left at home. A sorry mistake that he would not be making in the future.

"Just face it, Lye, you're losing your touch." This time the voice belonged to a man. Gruff, but one could hear the gentle smile that would have been playing at his features.

Tamlin could almost picture the pair in his mind.

He didn't have to picture them for long. Two soldiers stepped into the chamber, rounding the corner. They were still wearing armor that appeared to be made of ice and steel, a welcome shield to swords and other weaponry. The armor was covered in sleet and mud.

The man was not quite as tall as Tamlin, perhaps a few inches shorter, nor was he as broad. His skin was white as paper, with ice brown eyes and lank white hair that was covered the same mess as his armor.

It was the woman that made him take pause.

She was nothing notable. About the same height as Feyre, her complexion just as white as the man's. He could see the blue of her veins and the gentle purple shadows that were just under her eyes. Her hair was the same shade of snowy white that marked those born in the Winter Court. It curled slightly, which he found rather intriguing given that he could tell despite the fact that it had been braided in a crown around her head. Not for fashion's sake but for fighting. Her eyes were a deep shade of green, almost like one of the evergreen trees all over this godsforsaken waste.

The scent of blood came from a cut just above the left eye. It was still bleeding freely. Either it was fresh and she hadn't had the chance to see a healer or she simply had not noticed it yet. Like the man, her hair and face were covered in mud and sleet. As was the sword hanging from her belt.

The pair stopped in front of him, bowing in respect to a High Lord that was not their own.

"My Lord," the woman spoke, nudging the man once in the gut when he began to snicker at her words. "We did not expect to see you until later tonight."

As she straightened, he felt a scream building up in his chest. There was a reason the mating bond had not snapped into place yet with Feyre. It never would.

As he stared into her eyes the mating bond hit him harder than any arrow or any sword ever could. He would kill someone for this slight against him.

Fuck. The word hit him as if a wall had been created in his mind. As if he had never had the chance to back away from the bond.

The voice in his head was not his own. It matched the woman's perfectly. A woman whose name he did not even know. Feyre was going to murder him.

"It's no trouble," Tamlin spoke before he could think about what he was saying. "I've seen my fair share of soldiers." Although he had not seen a woman in the Spring Courts fight. Not one that looked as though she could be a lady of the court.

"My Lord," the man said, taking the woman by the elbow. "We have a meeting with our general. You'll forgive us."

There was an edge to his voice that Tamlin did not know if he enjoyed or hated. He hadn't asked for this High Lord stuff. He hadn't asked to be this way. But he was. He was and he couldn't get rid of it.

"Inform your general that she is going to be detained for a moment," he gestured his head once to the woman who was still within the man's grip.

"It's fine, Los," she mumbled to the man as he looked as though he were going to protest. "I'll be there in a moment."

He tried to ignore the surge of jealousy within him as he watched the two share a look. There was nothing to be jealous over. This was just an oversight. One that they could easily ignore. Well, he hoped they would be able to do so.

The man bowed once again to him, he didn't watch as he soon slipped away, leaving the two to themselves.

She kept one hand on the hilt of her sword, her back was straight and she appeared as though she were heading into battle. Not speaking with a High Lord. It annoyed Tamlin to see her so at ease with him. This wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

"What is your name?" He figured that would probably help him figure out who in the hell this was and why the mating bond had snapped into place upon one look into her eyes.

"Lyriel Chaeren." He didn't recognize the family name. "Did you need something, My Lord?"

He felt a twinge of annoyance, but he bottled it down. He wasn't her High Lord. He shouldn't expect her to give him as much respect as she would give someone like Kallias. "Come to my rooms this evening, Lyriel. We've much to discuss."

If the word 'fuck' had been any indication, she would understand just what he meant.

Her head nodded once, he watched as the back of her neck became visible for just a moment. He had to swallow for a moment before he remembered that Feyre was home waiting for him.

Feyre. Who wouldn't be happy if she found out about this. Who would wonder what this meant for them and their upcoming wedding. He almost wanted to cry from the sheer frustration of the matter at hand.

Tamlin watched her leave him before he quickly went to his meeting with Kallias. He found himself unable to truly pay attention. Even if he didn't fully get the gist of it, Lucien would. Lucien who had been there for twenty minutes already while Tamlin worked up some energy after the winnow. As emissary, Lucien was almost too used to Tamlin's moods and having to deal with most of the actual politics of the Spring Court.

He did not speak to Lucien about what had happened that afternoon. He didn't know how to tell him. Lucien would certainly understand what was happening. Lucien had always been the one he could rely on. The one who had made him feel as though he was going to be alright. That he could be the High Lord that he wanted to be. Not the failure that everyone assumed he was.

The meeting went by quickly enough that Tamlin did not have enough time to think of what was happening in his mind. He shook Kallias' hand once before he quickly headed back to his room.

He found himself pacing back and forth, his stomach in knots. There was no way this would turn out well. Feyre would be heartbroken when she found out who Lyriel was. Lyriel whose name sounded like music. He scowled at the very thought. She shouldn't have been on his mind. He needed to figure out what to do about this little issue.

He and Feyre had been through too much to just throw it all away. Over some woman that he didn't even know.

It was enough to make anyone crazy.

Tamlin joined the High Lord of Winter, Vivane, and Lucien at dinner. He smiled charmingly, laughed when appropriate, and treated the Lady of the Winter Court with as much respect as he could muster.

He was grateful that the soldiers did not dine in the palace's large dining hall. He almost asked about their whereabouts but quickly stopped himself. He didn't need anyone knowing about his bond with one of them. Unless she was high-ranking. That could be useful.

Tamlin chewed his steak as he lost himself in thought. Her armor had been too much of a mess to really make note of if there was something to declare her as just a normal soldier or someone who had connections. She could have easily been a high-ranking captain or perhaps had taken a general position.

It was another bit of effort to not ask Kallias this. If he told anyone of this recent discovery, it would be Lucien. Lucien wouldn't say a word to anyone. At least he could hope so.

He waited until Lady Vivane excused herself before he did the same. He thanked Kallias for his hospitality and for the dinner with a graceful bow. One that he felt he shouldn't have to give. He straightened his spine, wished Lucien a good night, and turned to leave.

A guard was stationed outside the dining hall.

"Inform Lyriel Chaeren that I require her presence in my room," he said formally. If anyone asked he would claim that she had done him a disservice or that he had wanted to pick who stood outside his room that night.

A bullshit lie that no one would buy.

Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded on his door. He glanced once at the two glasses of brandy he had just poured and prayed that this would go well.

Tamlin set the glasses down on the small drinking table he had been provided before he strode across the large room to the door. Due to his height and girth, he was able to cross within a couple of steps. He took a calming breath as his hand wrapped around the knob. Slowly, he opened the door and peered out. She was standing there, her armor no longer on. Instead, she wore a fur-lined tunic that fell to her knees and a pair of fur-lined leggings that he could see a knife hanging from. Her boots were fur-lined as well. A necessity in this barren waste. Her hair was out of its plait, sheets of white-blonde cascading down her back. Even the cut above her eye was gone. As if it had never happened.

"You wished to see me, My Lord?" Lyriel bowed at the waist for him. The last time she would ever allow herself to show him any type of submission.

"Come in," he opened the door wide enough for her to slip inside.

As she did, he caught her scent. The subtle scent of ice clung to every bit of her, mixed with pine and berries. And just a bit of blood.

Tamlin watched her carefully for a moment, taking in how she moved about the room. Her spine stayed straight as if she held herself in the highest esteem. Her right hand stayed close to the knife. He wondered if she thought he would attack her.

"I take it you know why you're here," he said as he closed the door. They didn't need to have this conversation with it hanging open. The longer he could keep this between them the better.

"Could it have anything to do with the string attached to my rib?" She tilted her head as she looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes twinkled like the lights of the Winter Solstice. He had to swallow to stop thinking about it.

"Yes, it does." He strode forward, trying not to notice as she backed away, and took one of the glasses of brandy. The alcohol warmed him from the moment it touched his tongue. He could feel it sliding down his throat and settling comfortably on his stomach.

"I want to know why the first thing you sent down the bond was 'fuck'," he sounded amused. He felt rather amused by it.

"I didn't realize I was sending it." Her fingers danced along the hilt of the blade. Tamlin noticed that her nails were filed down, no more than small stubs. They could do no damage to him.

"Really?" His eyebrow rose slightly as he forced himself to casually lean against the wall. He had to take this easy. He couldn't rush things nor could he scare her off. Even if he was certain that was one of the things that he was best at.

"I suppose I hadn't thought that the Mother would think I belong with a High Lord," she explained, not bothering to look at him as she spoke. "I apologize for that being the first thing you heard from me."

A slight smirk played on Tamlin's features, despite his annoyance that she would not look at him. "Don't worry about it. Feyre has notably said a lot worse to me. Especially upon our first meeting."

He didn't care that her fingers clenched slightly. He wasn't about to give Feyre up. Not when he loved her more than he loved anyone. Not when she had loved him enough to risk her life for him. He'd die first.

"Of course," she still refused to look at him. That was growing to be a bit of a problem for him. He didn't know what he would do if she refused to look at him. "What exactly do you propose we do about this?" She asked, turning her head to him at that point.

He almost wished she wouldn't have looked at him. There was a fire burning in her eyes. Not fire. Ice. Her eyes had turned into the color of a frozen evergreen. Slightly lighter, mainly colder. The room dropped a few degrees and he noticed that ice was forming beneath her boots.

So she had power. Greater than what he assumed a normal soldier would have. He knew very well that her power either meant that she was someone with connections or she had been blessed with strong magic to keep up with him. He didn't necessarily think that was the case. His parents had not been equal and they were a mated pair. He didn't think that being mates meant that they, necessarily, would be equal either. She would have to bow down before him. Just as every member of his Court. She wasn't special in that regard.

"I want you to come to the Spring Court with me," Tamlin told her, keeping one eye on the ice that was growing underneath her feet. He didn't exactly want her to freeze him for saying the wrong thing. According to Lucien, he had a bad habit of saying the wrong thing at times.

"How will you explain that?" She was smarter than he had thought. Lyriel clearly knew that he would not risk Feyre. It was apparent in the way he spoke, the way he looked at her.

"You're an emissary for the Winter Court. Kallias cannot attend the wedding so I'll have him send you in his place." Tamlin stated as if it were the easiest answer.

"You don't control my High Lord," she pointed out cautiously. "He can very well say no."

"I think Kallias will see the value in having someone at the Spring Court," Tamlin pointed out with a shrug of his shoulders. "He's not dumb enough to think that there isn't a political advantage to having a spy in my court."

She snorted at that. The noise grated his ears. He tried not to think of how irritating it was that she wasn't taking this seriously.

"Kallias is too good to spy." Lyriel's fingers had curled around the handle of the knife. At least he knew what buttons to press.

"Either way, we need to figure this whole thing out. I won't have anyone ruining my wedding," he pointed out, rubbing his temples gently.

"So I have to uproot my life in order for you to decide what to do with me?"

"I'm glad you understand." Tamlin willfully ignored the edge in Lyriel's tone. He would do the same damn thing for the rest of their lives. "We leave in two days. I trust you'll do the right thing."

Lyriel's spine straightened, he didn't know that was possible. She had already stood straight enough to nearly look him in the eye. He was a foot taller than her and yet he felt as though she dwarfed him. He hated that feeling. She did not say another word to him, just strode out the door. The scent of winter berries assaulted his nose once more.

Prick, she sent the word reverberating through his body. He could feel it in the depths of his spine. He hoped she could feel the growl that left his throat.

Tamlin was unsure what to do about this whole mess. He had assumed that the mating bond would fall into place with Feyre. He had assumed it would happen during their wedding night or at some point in the near future. But now ... There was no way that he could tell her. She would be crushed. She had given up so much for him.

Her life being the main thing.

Taking her sacrifices away from her seemed to be a cruel thing. He could protect her from this. He might have to forsake his mate but for Feyre, he would do it.

As Tamlin readied himself for bed, he found himself thinking again of Lyriel. He didn't really know what he was supposed to do about this whole thing. She wasn't what he had expected. Nor what he had wanted. He had always thought that he would find someone within his own court. When Feyre had broken the curse, he had been sure that it would be her. He wished that his father was still alive. He would ask what he should do. He would have someone to talk to who wouldn't let him just ruin everything. Tamlin often worried that he was going to ruin everything. He wasn't meant to be the High Lord. He was meant for a simple life. One of a soldier.

He would have thrived in war camps, where all he was was another face in the crowd. His rage would have been more useful there than it was in ruling over his people. He wouldn't have been nearly as afraid of losing control. He didn't question what his mate being a soldier said about this either. He was worried that it would just prove his theory right.

That was one thing that Tamlin didn't want to be proven right about.

At night, he could still hear his brother's taunts. He wasn't fit to be High Lord. He would never be High Lord. He could forget ever being necessary to their father. He was just a burden.

Tamlin closed his eyes tightly as the memories overtook him. They were gone and yet, they still haunted him. They still informed his every decision. He would never find peace. Perhaps that was why he craved the life he could see himself having with Feyre. The one that he would have with Feyre. He didn't care if he would have to kill to get it.

They had both been through hell and back. This whole mate thing was just another wrench in the plans. But it would be fixed. Sooner or later they would work something out. Bonds were rejected all the time. No matter if it had the chance to drive him to madness, he could still reject it. He could rely on Feyre to keep him sane.

Good night, My Lord, Lyriel's voice haunted him the rest of the night. He wondered if she had sent it through the bond to punish him.

#acotar #tamlin #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #oc #lyriel chaeren #lyriel #tamlin x lyriel #tamlin x oc #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #lucien #brought over from my quotev

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my-dandelion-darling · 4 years

Text

Curiosity of a Mouse

For the Shobbs Summer Fic Exchange. My gift to @nix1327 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! This was super fun and not something I think I would have done if not for your prompt. And a big thanks to @omnivorousshipper for hosting this!

I don’t have an AO3 currently but this helped me get back in to writing and I’m very thankful to you all for that ❤

Hobbs and Shaw sat at the meeting table at Nowhere, they were summoned by Mr.Nobody for a new mission. No information was given and so the two men were left to sit and wait. Normally they’d be ready to beat each other to oblivion, but they were under strict orders to be patient for Mr.Nobody. The aura between them felt awkward and uncomfortable like a constant buzzing. They gave each other side glances and dirty looks. Just as they opened their mouths to start something-.

"Afternoon gentlemen," Mr.Nobody said with a large grin on his face, buttoning his suit and adjusting his cufflinks as he walked into the glass room. "Thank you for joining me here today. I saw that everything went well with Eteon and wanted to say congratulations. Job well done."

"Spare the theatrics Nobody, what do you want?" Luke Hobbs interrupted the older man, "It better be worth my time if you took me from spending time with my daughter and setting me up again with Queen Elizabeth over here."

"Fuck off you overgrown badger. An attitude like that won't roll over for Miss America." Deckard Shaw snickered, sitting with his legs crossed on the office chair.

"You running out of insults there, Princess? Just you wait, this overgrown badger will beat your ass into next week" Hobbs stood walking over to Deckard so his body was leaning over the smaller man to show his raging mass. The tension that filled the room elevated by their remarks.

"Big talk from a man with a big mouth" Shaw tested, looking up at the built man above him.

"That ain't the only thing big about me," Hobbs replied, slamming his hands down on the chair arms to intimidate Shaw.

"Settle down gentlemen, I brought you here for a reason and it involves more than your constant antics. See this is what I was looking for… you two are going to be supervising," Mr. Nobody announced, getting their attention as he cleaned off the lens of his shades acting as his main focus.

"Supervising what?" Both Hobbs and Shaw said in unison looking towards Mr.Nobody.

"Your new trainee." He answered glancing up from his side task.

"What?" They both shouted.

"No way are you getting me to babysit some little desk mouse." Shaw spat with his eyes piercing at Mr. Nobody.

"Oh but he's more than that…. See he's moved up in the ranks and placed top of his classes faster than any other agent. Aside from you two of course. Although he's not affiliated with any agency, he's not exactly a mercenary either." Mr. Nobody replied, opening his arms, while he gave the new information.

"What new lab rat did you make this time, Nobody?" Luke asked, taking his attention from the Brit next to him.

"He's a young man, Hobbs. Name is Dylan Stock or Agent Stock for short. I think you'll both learn to like him."

"What exactly are we doing?" Shaw asked.

"I'm glad you asked. He'll be shadowing you two for now. We have some missions, easy enough for three people, and quick enough to be done in a matter of days."

"You said, ‘us three?’"

"Yes I did, Luke. Both you and Mr.Shaw will show this kid the ropes… together!"

"Well why not you, Little Nobody, or some other useless pencil pusher?"

"Well, there's some business that needs to be taken care of out of the country, so with you two being local for a while, we figured this would be our best bet-"

"But"

"-And now without further interruptions, I'd like you two to meet Agent Stock." Mr.Nobody announced. A click was heard in the distance and a sleek young man walked in.

His hair was dark and curly and his body was lean but muscular. His face had stubble and his eyes were a light green color.

"Welcome in Agent."

The man practically tiptoed into the small meeting room and stood on the opposite side of the table.

"Hello my name's Dylan, I've been informed of our arrangement and look forward to learning from you." He said in a somewhat nervous voice. He couldn't have been over the age of twenty-seven especially when comparing his height to the others. He was clearly a few inches shorter then Deckard himself.

"This is the mouse we're going to watch?" Hobbs asked. The man looked up to meet Luke's gaze and didn't skip a beat. His personality almost changing from nervous to serious in a flash.

"Ah, Luke Hobbs, former DSS agent top of his class and rank. Six foot five inches. Incredible strength, best tracker, and unorthodox investigator. Helped track down Dominic Torreto and his 'family' along with your current partner Deckard Shaw."

"Huh," Deckard chuckled looking over Stock.

"And speaking of Deckard Shaw," Dylan’s eyes darted towards the other agent, "... or should I say ex-prisoner 6753. Former MI6 agent and international mercenary, master in martial arts and explosive expertise. Son of Magdalene Shaw, the sibling to Owen and Hattie Shaw. Now those two have very interesting files as well." Dylan finished, ending that last sentence with a smirk.

"Aren't you such a good bookworm," Deckard spat.

"He's brushed up on everything about you two," Nobody interjected.

"I am adequate in all forms of tech and hacking, along with multilingual books and reports." He mentioned, his voice firm.

"Now, Now. Settle down, these two aren't going to bite," Nobody said trying to calm the tension in the room. "You'll just be watching and sending in reports of your findings. Nothing too hard."

"Uhh… yes… sorry” Dylan sputtered, his nervousness returning, “Sounds easy enough I look forward to working with you."

“Great! So your first mission starts in Los Angeles.” Mr.Nobody exclaimed.

It had been a week since Agent Stock teamed up with Hobbs and Shaw. Within that time, they had already derailed a drug-smuggling ring taking place in Las Vegas and also found a new lead on a high deal basement deal involving human trafficking.

Apparently, after finding and recovering the head leader of the ring, he was also involved in an exclusive and highly expensive trafficking ring. This type of ring was hard to find and very little information was passed around and rumors started that senators and other high-status characters were a part of the guest list.

Not only were these events recorded and written out to incredible detail by Agent Stock, but he was also given a new nickname along the way, Mouse. Dylan wasn’t very happy about the change, but knowing the two men, it seemed like a normal occurrence. He would be so preoccupied watching the Samoan and Brit bicker that they wouldn’t even notice him around.

Not only were his associates on the brink of what looked like strangling each other at every turn on the mission or spitting third-grade remarks, but he was also starting to see something happen every time. Of course, he wasn't going to mention this in his files, but it seems like everyone else knew. After three days of handling the case along with Luke and Deckard, they had decided this was a much more careful mission that needed to be handled with family.

He had seen their planning and how well Dom and his family had set up everything. They were a true dream team with techs, muscle, and definitely experience. They all worked so well together… and so did Hobbs and Shaw, surprisingly.

Back at Nowhere, Luke walked over to Deckard with coffee in each hand. He stood next to Deckard, who was sitting at his computer, as he gave him a cup.

"Hey Princess, give me the stats on the possible count of guests and the dates for the auction. Check to see if our friend's drug ring has any suspicious people in on the auction," Hobbs asked, his voice serious but his actions soft as his hand moved to lay on Shaw's opposite shoulder.

"Sure thing, twinkle toes," Shaw replied ever so naturally and acting indifferent to the new touch. Hobbs applying a little bit of pressure at Deckard's mocking.

The past few days have been nonstop arguments and with every insult basically thrown at each other, they were really at the end of the line with insults. To the point where they had begun to act like an old married couple. Their words were sharp as daggers but the words they used were so mild they played off each other a little too well.

"Oh, and while you're at it, see if you can find a location and possibly find us a way in. Okay, sweetheart?" Luke added as his hand grazed across Shaw's back. It was so fast that nobody seemed to pick up on it, nobody except their shadow.

"Absolutely, my beloved bastard," Deckard said, giving him a side look and shaking his head and his fingers clicked away on the keyboard.

"Are they always like this?" Agent Stock finally asked.

"You have no idea!" Letty replied leaning against the table. "They've been like this since the day they met… a little less sweet, but generally the same."

"The day they met? How can they get anything done! I've had my fair share of grudges against my teammates but I've never seen anything like this. How did they expect me to learn anything from these two!" He shouted with his hands gesturing to the two men bickering at each other while fixing an impounded car.

"I'm sure you've seen them get at each other for the past few days," She spoke calmly, "but if you ignore all the crap they say, you can see how good of a team they are. They know what the bigger picture is and they understand each other's strengths-"

"Fuck off, you giant wanker!" Shaw's voice erupted.

"Whatever, you rotten Earl Gray cup of crap!"

"-So with a little time you'll see," Letty finished, a smile gracing her lips as she walked over to Dom's side as they both watched the two men argue.

"C'mon guys," Dom's voice interrupted, "I think we've been cooped up in this room for a little too long now. Let's take a break and get back at this in an hour."

"So what are we gonna do?" Agent Stock asked, unsure of what his next move was.

"That sounds like a good idea," interrupted Hobbs replying to Dom, "I think I'm gonna hit the Nowhere training floor."

"Hm… maybe I'll join you. Haven't fought anyone good in the past few days. Don't wanna get rusty." Deckard announced, all eyes looking at him in slight shock.

Stock looked between Luke and Deckard. Shaw glanced up from his laptop to meet Hobbs' eyes.

"So finally getting that one-on-one?"

"One-on-one?" Asked Stock.

"Oh, yea!" Letty shouted, "that still hasn't happened yet?"

"I call a hundred dollars on Hobbs!" Tej's voice rang from the corner.

"Sorry but my money's on Shaw." Perked Roman, shaking Tej's shoulder.

"Well, then I guess that leaves me with the tie." Ramsey finished.

The room started with small chatting and finalizing bets. Pretty soon they had gotten the attention of Dom, Little Nobody, and Mr.Nobody all making bets. The later two back from their overseas business. Everyone's attention left both Luke and Deckard, except for a certain mouse.

The trainee standing away from the whole business. He would rather be looking for more information and from the corner of his eye, he saw the two gentlemen leave the room.

It's not his business to follow them. Why would he want to follow them? Well, he is shadowing them. But they're not really working a mission right now… but watching them could help him in his training. Yes, his training. So what's the harm in studying them fight… for training.

So as thoughts shot through his mind, the little mouse became a curious cat.

Dylan followed the other men's footsteps and slid out of the room undetected. He heard voices through the hallways and… was that laughter... that echoed leading him. He had never been in Nowhere and traversing the endless halls was like a maze. The dark hallways seemed empty and the doors were like matching tiles against the walls. Without really looking you couldn't tell there were even offices.

Where did they go?

"So you went after them too?" A soft accented voice surprised him from behind.

"Ramsey!" He shouted completely caught off guard.

"Well you can't get far if you don't know where you're going" she teased walking up to him and tussling his curls.

"I'm not a kid y'know."

She giggled at his response. Her hand waving for him to follow her.

She was a suspicious girl. He read her files just like everyone else’s. The creator of God's Eye. So smart yet she looks and acts like an everyday person. She had no major criminal history or anything that would make seem her seem like a threat. She had spunk and even without meeting Dom's team she could hold her own.

"So what do you think of everyone so far?" Ramsey asked. She had led them through a hallway and up to a door that blended into the walls.

"It's not what I was expecting, in all honesty."

The door slid open revealing a stairway down.

"Hobbs and Shaw are definitely a weird pair. When I first joined Dom's 'family' nobody liked Deckard, especially when Mr.Nobody recruited him to help save Dom from Cipher. I'm sure you've heard of her? But Deck was really nice and I lent him my laptop a couple of times."

She paused for a second down the stairs, "And yet, those two would always be talking," a small grin appearing on her lips, "I remember when Hobbs had me print out some papers on Deckard. I had forgotten to give him some papers on Deckard's field stats, but before I could give it to him, he was already at him underneath another vehicle. 'Captain Deckard Shaw' he said," she quoted making her voice deeper to mimic Hobbs, "I don't know what they were talking about but after a while… they just started to laugh. And I have never seen either of them smile like that towards anybody."

She continued down the stairs, Dylan following, with a grin on her face.

Thinking back to LA, Stock had caught a few glimpses between the two and some light chuckles, but with what Ramsey was saying… what more was he missing? He didn’t suspect anything between them, especially with their obnoxious fights.

Before Stock could ask anything, Ramsey opened another door to a hidden training room. There were weights and machines for testing anybody's strength and stamina, and in the back, another door leading to a separate room for physical training.

Dylan was captivated by the plethora of technology around him. His eyes large with intrigue. He wasn't much of a fighter, but he had a decent understanding of battle tactics.

He was focusing so hard he didn't notice that he had walked the whole room until Ramsey had grabbed him by his arm.

Grunts and loud breathing could be heard as they walked closer to the training room door.

"Shh." She whispered and pointed to the open door making sure that the men inside didn't notice them. They walked slowly through and found a good spot in the shadows of the room that Hobbs and Shaw couldn't see them.

The training room was equipped with smash proof windows and padded flooring. Of course there would be cameras everywhere in Nowhere, even in a hidden gym like this.

Sure enough, the two men stood eight feet from each other both in fighting poses. Luke was in his regular outfit with a black tank top and cargo pants. Deckard on the other hand stood without his suit jacket and the top button was undone on his button-up shirt.

Dylan stood a good distance from the window with Ramsey, making sure they weren't spotted. His mind was racing to finally see the skills these two men had.

Both men were breathing hard and starting to sweat. Hobbs was keeping himself standing trying hard to focus on his punches and hits. He almost seemed exhausted compared to Deckard who kept his breathing steady, leaning forward with his hands out to his sides, ready for any attack.

Agent stock was mentally taking notes to the power that each man would give. He could see the fire in their eyes and their attacks practically moving in slow motion. It was like a dance.

Hobbs had taken a step for a hard swing which was dodged by Deckard who elbowed him in the back making the larger man lose his balance.

"Thought you'd be faster on your feet, twinkle toes!" Shaw huffed turning around in a split second to face his partner.

"You don't seem to be getting many hits in yourself." Hobbs scoffed, his breathing evening out as he stood up straight and looked towards Shaw.

"That's only because you seem to be doing more damage to yourself. How bout you go sit in the corner and have a nice banana like the gorilla you are." Shaw replied.

All that action and they still argue. Ramsey giggled a little seeing Dylan's face go from excited to a sour look.

"What?" He asked Ramsey.

"Nothing… it's just kind of cute seeing someone new getting to know how these guys act."

"Well, it's not cute that I'm missing out on combat training when they do this."

Ramsey looked the young agent up and down, "Have you ever liked someone?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Agent Stock asked while folding his arms and leaning against a nearby wall.

"It will explain why Luke and Deckard act the way they do… You may have read their files, and you may know about their training history, but you don't know who they are as people," she finished.

Dylan’s brow furrowed looking at Ramsey and looking back at the two men.

"I know their fighting styles, how they work together, and what it’s like out in the field. Isn't that all I really need? I'm not really interested in a relationship with you all."

"Ouch!" Ramsey exclaimed, holding a hand over her heart to exaggerate her fake pain. "That's a little harsh isn't it, Mouse-pad. Is that what they call you?"

Dylan looked at her with mild disgust. "Ugh it's Mouse," he replied folding his arms in embarrassment, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. "I don't see why they gave me that name. It's not like Stock is hard to get." His voice slightly increasing in volume.

Beside him, Ramsey tried so hard to hold back her laughter.

Her giggling continued, "Do you know who you sound like?"

Dylan calmed down and dropped his arms to his side, "Who?" He asked his voice soft again.

"Little Nobody." A smile on her face. "They did the exact same thing to him, and look at him now. He started as a trainee to Mr.Nobody too."

"Well…" he paused, "I bet he didn’t care for it then too." He said looking to Ramsey, both smiling at each other at the humorous past.

They both looked to the two men as their fight continued.

Luke and Deckard’s argument persisted in the background as small hits were given. Agent Stock noticing their kicks and punches holding less power with each throw.

Their fighting slowed as their verbal battle continued until the two men were in a near standstill.

“You really holding back on me, Hobbs?” Shaw asked as he took a step closer to Luke both men in calmer stances.

"Well you're not going to do much with those ballerina kicks you've been giving me," Luke said closing this distance.

They were a foot apart. Hobbs with his arms crossed and Deckard with one hand on his hip. Both standing alone in the room.

"Sorry for holding back so that people don't worry about more bruises on your body," Shaw replied as his eyes glossed over Hobbs.

They stared at each other as Shaw's hand reached up to Luke's shoulder where a light bruise was left from a hit back in LA. His hand slowly gliding down the neckline of Luke's tight tank top.

The duo spectating the men both filled with intrigue. Ramsey was quiet as Agent Stock watched curiously at Shaw's movements. Were his eyes deceiving him? Were they really a lot closer than he initially thought?

"What's happening?" Agent Stock asked to no one in particular, his voice emphasizing his confusion.

Looking at the two, Ramsey wondered if Dylan could see what she could… progress.

"Didn't look like you could take another hit," Deckard spoke so soft only Hobbs could hear as his eyesight followed the movement of his fingertips. His foot shifting ever so slightly around Hobbs' leg bringing them closer.

Luke looked down at Deckard, leaving a smile as he chuckled at Shaw's response. Their eyes met as Hobbs leaned in ever so slightly.

Agent Stock stood frozen watching the two men, his cheeks turning a shade of red. What was happening?

But before Luke could say or do anything, his breathing hitched as a force pushed him back. Shaw's hand now faced out after tripping the larger Samoan man.

But Luke was just fast enough to grab Shaw with his outstretched hand, taking him down with him. Both of their instincts kicked in as Deckard tried putting his weight on Luke's arms and legs. But his strength was nothing as Luke slipped his leg around Deckard's and switched their positions.

Dylan and Ramsey's eyes more focused than before.

Luke was now looking down at Deckard who was flat in his back. Hobbs’ hands were now holding back Shaw’s wrists above his head and his legs kept the smaller man down. Hobbs could see Deckard's chest was lightly exposed and moving up and down from his breathing.

They were staring at each other, only a few inches away. Their bodies calming down at the new position. Both were quiet, waiting for the other to make the next move. Both unaware of the audience that had been secretly watching them from behind the glass window.

"Looks like I won the bet," Ramsey whispered to Dylan.

"Do they...? Are they…?" Dylan asked completely puzzled at what just happened. His face felt like it was on fire like he had seen something he shouldn't. He has never seen them like this before. And yet, with what everyone said… he needed to know.

"You really don't know them just yet, little mouse." Ramsey smiled.

Before anyone made another move, a voice was heard through a Nowhere speaker.

"Would the Dom family make their way back to the meeting room. We made a decision on our next move."

#shobbs summer fic exchange #luke hobbs #deckard shaw #shobbs #deckard shaw x luke hobbs #hobbs and shaw #oc #fanfiction #first fanfic #in over 5 years

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uncannyarcana · 3 years

Text

Excerpt: Uncanny Arcana Chapter 1

Word Count: 1799

There was something quiet in the transition from fall to winter. Summer was a time of activity and motion and energy, and Spring was the cautious, long stretch after waking up. Between those two, when the air turned cool and the world ebbed into a comfortable quiet, filled with toasting fires and snow boots and throws the size of couches, the universe offered a breather. Time for reflection. Preparations for the year to come.

Sleep.

Something Beaumont Saint-Victor very much wanted as she dug through the last boxes from the move earlier that day. Most everything else had been unwrapped and allocated to its new home within a home, from bathroom to living room to kitchen.

“Remind me again why I’m the one cooking tonight?” Essie called from the kitchen. Esther Ramsey, as Beau found out early into their five-year relationship, held many talents, but cooking anything more complicated than premade or frozen dishes, was not on the list. The kitchen and all things culinary were Beau’s domain, and she planned on making a proper house-warming dinner once everything settled, but a full day of back-and-forth from the moving truck and a couple trips to their old places for forgotten left her barely enough energy for her current task. Essie had done an equal amount of work and somehow drew from hidden energy wells

“Because your hot shapeshifter girlfriend strained her back lugging our bed frame upstairs,” she called back from the couch in the living room. “And you need the practice.”

“Aw, poor baby. So if I call Joel he’ll back up that excuse?” From her tone, Beau knew she was joking.

“He’ll probably tell you to remind me to lift with my legs next time.”

She heard Essie laugh from the kitchen and smiled to herself. Joel Brannon had been Beau’s best friend for almost thirteen years and the only one out of the three of them that had the right license for the moving truck. Together he and Beau ran a bakery with a small apartment above it, which they’d shared until a few days ago when the bank approved the mortgage for the new brownstone. He’d helped with the heavy stuff before heading off on a business lead earlier that day, promising to call if anything came of it.

She paused to pick out a newspaper-wrapped object from the box. Folding back the paper, she revealed a black ceramic sculpture. “Does your seal thing go on the mantle or in the bathroom?”

“What seal th—oh, my walrus! He’s the centerpiece of our living room! He’s going on the mantle, of course.” A moment later she muttered, “I’m mildly offended you had to ask that…” Another small jest, though by the volume she wasn’t sure if Essie meant her to hear it. Most others wouldn’t have unless they were standing right next to her. Beau wasn’t most others, though.

Long ago, before the gods had names history remembered and humans were just banding together in larger settlements, magic ebbed and flowed through the world like water in a river, calm and gentle in some places, chaotic and dangerous in others. Creatures of legend walked the same earth as humans, and for a time both coexisted with each other with cautious respect. The old gods were the source of that magic, and as a gift to their most devout followers, shared some of that power, creating the first Uncanny beings. Shapeshifters, vampires, and witches. Able to control small magical facets within themselves, they eventually found their place in the world, from valiant protectors to cruel overlords.

As more organized religion spread, Uncanny found themselves pushed to the shadows in fear of being destroyed in the name of new gods that drew followers with conquest in mind. Eventually, magic and monsters went the way of legend. Entire species went extinct. Those who managed to stay alive long enough to pass their gift also passed their fears and hesitations of interacting with their human cousins to the next generation. It was safer skirting and surviving in the dark than exposing themselves in the light.

In Beau’s case, risking a peek out from under the curtain had reaped pleasant results. She’d met Essie in the bakery while the latter was finishing her Master’s degree at the local college. At first Essie’s excuse had been its close proximity to campus and the free Wi-Fi. Then it progressed to good food and strong tea. Next the student discount that only applied to her, which Beau swore wasn’t as exclusive as she made it out to be. The final step came when Essie asked Beau to a movie after she closed up for the night. They’d been together ever since.

After an altercation with another Uncanny local on Essie’s behalf, Beau fully drew the curtain back, easing her into the fact all the creatures she loved researching and tracking were in fact real, and most held day jobs because rent was a bitch no matter the species.

Sometimes supernatural senses had their drawbacks, Beau reminded herself. The memory of the first time she spent the night at Essie’s apartment came to mind. The walls had actually been a decent thickness, but the damn neighbors hadn’t understood the concept of consideration, and nothing was a better mood-killer than the muffled, rhythmic beating of a headboard against a shared wall.

At least Essie hadn’t suffered through the other sounds.

She snorted with a short laugh and went over to the fireplace, placing the walrus in its new home beside their little Hearth Guardian. A housewarming gift from their friend Kat, a witch and a well-respected doctor in the city., The stained ash wood sculpture was about four inches tall and carved in the shape of a housecat. It helped ward off bad energies, she’d explained as she finished etching a protection sigil underneath the doormat that morning. Beau scooted the two figurines closer together before returning to her spot on the couch. More items found their places in the living room, things equal parts hers and Essie’s, and soon Beau moved onto a larger box labeled “Bedroom.” A small knot settled in her stomach.

“Hey, babe?” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go put some stuff upstairs. Holler if you need me.”

“I promise not to burn down the house while you’re gone.”

Beau half-smiled, but the feeling swirling in her gut was neither pleasant nor welcome. Wordlessly, she ascended the stairs, box balanced in one arm as she stepped over the baby gate that kept Strudel, their Cairn Terrier mix, on the ground floor. His bowl, bed, and toys had been some of the first things they’d configured in the new place, and he had resigned himself to snuggling up in his plush bed beside the unlit fireplace as his parents continued redecorating.

The master bedroom was the second door on the right, preceded by the one full bathroom, and across the hall from what would become Essie’s editing studio. Beside that was a small guest bedroom that still needed furnishing, but that would come in a day or so.

Beau nudged their bedroom door open with her foot and slipped inside. Looking around, it seemed almost complete save for what she held in the box. Beau set it down on her side of the bed, closest to the door, and cut the tape seal on top with the pocket knife she kept in her back pocket. Most of its contents consisted of personal knick-knacks and memorabilia, mostly Essie’s, which Beau either put aside for her to position how she liked or returned them to their places from memory.

Her things filled out the bottom. She didn’t have quite as much as Essie, considering that not so long ago her life had been ill-suited for collections. Still, each one was taken out and put in its place with care, their range only going as far as her nightstand. When she came to the last item, hidden away underneath everything else, she paused. It was a black wooden box just large enough to house a few manila folders, tape recorder reels, and an old picture with singed edges. Beau stared at it for a long time, almost afraid to touch it, lest the things inside would spill out and somehow pull her down a road she never wanted to walk again. A familiar tightness filled her chest.

Five things. Count five things present with you right now, Beau’s grounding techniques echoed in her head.

The bed, her pillow, Essie’s pillow, the lamp, the window. She breathed in, held it for seven seconds, and slowly released. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Beau grabbed the box and slid it under the bed. Then she turned and went back downstairs.

Miraculously, the house hadn’t caught fire while Essie was left unsupervised, and the smells that greeted Beau at the kitchen entrance made her mouth water. She made an exaggerated sniffing noise as she padded up behind Essie.

“As I live and breathe, is that progress I smell?” she asked, exaggerating her southern-Louisiana drawl while gently wrapping her arms around the shorter woman’s waist. Short wasn’t very fair, though. Average, Beau should say, in height and build. Essie played softball back in her college days, and had the sweatshirt to prove it, although nowadays it functioned as a sleep shirt, which she paired with a set of baggy sweatpants and tube socks.

Essie laughed, the sound light and pleasant. “Maybe you should have more faith in your girlfriend, Saint-Victor.” Habitually she pushed her glasses back up. “Everything go okay upstairs?”

“Yeah, just had to take a minute.”

“The box?”

“Mm-hm.”

Essie’s shoulders dropped a bit, but only for a moment, before she turned and offered Beau a taste of the stew. Beau took it, carefully considering the flavor.

“Needs more spice,” she admitted, swallowing.

“You do realize you live with someone from Atlanta,” Essie said flatly, going back to stirring the pot.

“Atlanta’s still in the south. And a little heat’s good for the winter. Clears your sinuses, warms you up. ‘Specially now that’s getting cold out.”

“That’s why God invented coffee, hon’.”

Beau hummed a response, resting her chin on Essie’s shoulder when the latter leaned back, taking in the coconut scent of her dark hair. She kept it up in a loose ponytail more often than not, a stark difference to Beau’s smoky black hair buzzed close at the sides and only slightly longer on top, hinting at natural waves. “But, seriously, it’s great. Reminds me of home.” They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the bubbling of the pot and Strudel’s tags clinking together as he trotted into the room, impatient for his own dinner.

And then Beau’s cell phone rang.

#wip #urban fantasy #writeblr #writing

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howlingbarnes · 7 years

Text

Forelsket

Characters - Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader, Scott Lang, Sam Wilson

Word Count - 2824

Warnings - None

Challenge - Kait’s 5k AU Challenge

Prompt - Soulmate AU

Forelsket - (Norwegian) That overwhelming euphoric feeling you experience when you’re falling in love with someone

A/N - Hello all! It’s been a LOOONG time but I suppose I’m officially back. Yes, this will be a series, my first ever soulmate series actually. Let me know what you think, I might be pretty rusty.

Forelsket Masterlist

College was a weird time. Between classes, friendships, and work - life was closing in on you in all directions. There was pressure everywhere, but nothing got pressured more than your love life. In a world where everyone was linked to someone and your friends were finding their soulmates one by one, you were the girl purposely pursuing a relationship that you knew wouldn’t go anywhere. Why would you do that when you knew there was someone out there, someone made specifically for you?

“What if I don’t like them?” You shook your head with a shrug as another excuse spilled from your lips.

“It’s your soulmate, that’s not even possible,” Wanda answered flatly. She found herself digging through your closet from the moment you told her that you were going to be meeting your boyfriend’s friends for the first time tonight. Though she wasn’t sure why you were with him, she never missed a chance to dress you up

“Okay,” you sighed before plopping down at the foot of your bed, “what if I’m not attracted to them?”

Just as you finished speaking, an article of clothing came flying at your face. You pulled it off of your head to be greeted with a stern look from Wanda. “Listen, not everyone is Bucky Barnes but if you’re going to keep making excuses for avoiding the inevitable, at least make them believable. Your soulmate is real, okay? They are out there and whether you like it or not, they’ll find you and for once you’re going to have to allow yourself to be happy.”

“I am happy!” You defended. It wasn’t entirely a lie either; you had fun with Bucky, he was good to you and he made you smile. Deep down though, you both knew it was a dead end. There were no sparks when he touched you and, more importantly, he left no mark.

“You can keep lying to yourself, Y/N but please stop trying to lie to me.” Wanda scoffed when you wouldn’t meet her eyes. She moved toward you, rolling up her sleeve as she did to reveal fingerprints on her arm. They looked like purplish bruises against her fair skin but she looked at them with an expression that you could never place swimming within her eyes, it was something of a blend between fondness and pain. “I thought I was happy too before Paul touched me, and after that, I knew I never really knew what happiness was. Now that he’s gone, the only thing I have left is the first mark he left on me and I wouldn’t want anyone else’s fingerprints left on my skin. You’re not truly happy, you’re just soaking in denial.” With that, she excused herself from your room, her bedroom door closing tightly just moments later.

Soulmates was always a hit or miss topic with Wanda, regardless of the fact that she was always the first one to bring them up. Learning from her experience made you want to stay away from your one and only even more. She’d met Paul in high school. He was new and for some reason, she was the person he decided to ask for directions. His fingers wrapped around her arm, the marks appeared instantly and it was all over from there. The two were inseparable and the love they’d felt was teenage puppy love cranked to one thousand. Of course, the first marks faded within the first hour and Paul was sure to create new ones every chance he got. Every time they touched, new marks would appear and fade but Wanda couldn’t forget when first ones came back if she wanted to.

There was a party that Paul went to with his friends, your typical bonfire on the beach with kids drinking when they weren’t supposed to. Wanda decided to stay home that night and you could never really tell if she was relieved or riddled with regret. Before the sun kissed the horizon the next day, Wanda noticed that Paul’s fingerprints returned to her arm. She didn’t have to see the remains of his car on the news and she didn’t have to go to his wake or funeral to know that it was real. When you lose your soulmate, that first mark comes back and it never leaves.

“I’m an asshole for not wanting that.” You grumbled to yourself with a shake of your head. You never wanted to tell Wanda, but that was one of the main things you were afraid of when it came down to soulmates. You were afraid of going through this incredible love and immeasurable happiness, only to have nothing but a constant reminder of the great romance that you’d lost. The one person on the earth that was yours and yours alone.

After shaking the conversation off, you hopped in the shower and got dressed. You went out of your way to avoid Wanda before leaving but found yourself face to face with your other roommate as you tried to tiptoe past the kitchen to the front door.

“I see that she’s having a moment.” Natasha quipped, jerking her head in the direction of Wanda’s door.

“Yeah.” You sighed just before Nat placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about her. Being without her soulmate is something that she’s going to cope with for the rest of her life. Four years sounds like a lot of time but when it’s something like that, it’s hard to let go.” Natasha whispered as if Wanda could hear from the other side of the apartment.

Shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your keys, you answered. “It’s not her fault. I just don’t really get it.”

“I don’t either, I’ve just been with her longer,” Natasha admitted with a faint smile. “Can’t miss what you’ve never had, right? Go have fun with your boyfriend, I won’t wait up.”

You nodded and said goodnight to Natasha before heading out. You considered taking your car but it was a nice night and Bucky’s apartment wasn’t too far off campus. Taking the opportunity to think, you freed the anxiety that you’d been holding back. To be fair, you didn’t know any of Bucky’s friends or their stance on soulmates. You weren’t even sure if they knew that you weren’t Bucky’s soulmate. How could something so basic run so many emotions within people? Why couldn’t you just be with him simply because you wanted to? Realistically, it wasn’t even their business so-

“Hey, doll!” Bucky greeted you with enthusiasm and a swift kiss on your cheek.

You silently chastised yourself for zoning out enough to realize that you’d knocked on his door. Feeling jerked harshly into reality, you blinked yourself back and smiled fondly at your boyfriend before brushing past him into his apartment and disposing of your jacket.

Bucky’s favorite thing was food so naturally, he wanted to have a dinner to introduce you to his friends. It worked for you mainly because, if things started to get awkward then you could just excuse yourself. You wanted them to like you. Since you and Bucky weren’t soulmates, you felt an added pressure whenever anyone in your lives met the other. Natasha was cool with him, considering that she hasn’t met her own soulmate yet and Wanda’s always been indifferent but managed to remain polite.

“You’re a little early so no one else has gotten here just yet,” Bucky called over his shoulder as you followed him into the kitchen. On the way, you stopped and checked your face in the hall mirror, feeling a bit of relief when you didn’t see a mark on your cheek.

Rounding the corner, you were greeted with the smiling face and sparkling blue eyes of your boyfriend, and a glass of wine being handed to you. Bucky watched over the rim of his own glass as you took a sip before taking his own and for some reason, you felt like he was up to something.

“Why are you being so quiet?” You inquired, with a suspicious look gracing your face.

“I have something to tell you,” Bucky admitted. Finishing off his glass and pushing a hand through his dark hair, he started to pace back and forth. His growing nervousness was starting to make you anxious and after about a minute of watching him, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bucky!”

“I’m falling in love with you.” Bucky blurted out the words and everything in you knew that he didn’t want it to go down that way. His expression was etched with regret, surely due to the poor delivery but he didn’t know how else to get the words out.

You could feel your breath catch in your throat, you were completely frozen and couldn’t be more embarrassed by the fact that you had nothing to say. The scrambling in your brain finally calmed itself enough for you to try to form a coherent sentence, but just as you opened your mouth, the doorbell rang.

“Your friends are here, can we talk about this after dinner?” Your voice was low and you went out of your way to avoid Bucky’s eyes but he still told you yes and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze on his way out of the kitchen.

The boys were loud enough for you to hear them saying their hellos from the hall. While they talked, you busied yourself with the food. Your worry wouldn’t let you stand still and before you knew it, the table was set for everyone and you were left leaning against the kitchen counter. Bucky was the first to emerge, followed by two men you’d never seen before and one that was in one of your classes.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two were dating.” Your classmate smiled and cocked a brow, looking between you and Bucky.

“You know Sam?” Bucky asked, pointing his thumb at his friend. You nodded and explained before greeting Sam yourself.

“These are my other friends, Scott Lang and Steve Rogers,” Bucky announced.

Scott seemed to be a little bit older, maybe a senior on his way to graduating. He was about the same height as Sam, just a few inches shorter than Bucky and Steve. Scott had pretty hazel eyes and short brown hair, compared to the other guys he almost seemed a little bit scrawny. He pushed a hand into his pocket, giving you a wave and a goofy smile. He looked like a nice enough guy though, Bucky didn’t tell you much about him. Bucky only mentioned that he’d known Scott for a few years and the guy knew how to have fun. It was hard for you to match the stories with the innocent looking face but you took his word for it.

Steve was Bucky’s childhood best friend and you couldn’t help but notice that he was quite a figure. While you didn’t want to be the girl that found her boyfriend’s friends attractive, it was hard not to. Steve stepped forward and politely shook your hand, his palm radiated an odd energy and warmth. His eyes were a brilliant blue blended with a captivating green and he was so tall that you had to look up just to see them. Judging by his body, he took care of himself, the veins in his arms were as prominent as his bulging biceps. His hair was perfectly styled, not a single one was out of place. Steve smiled wide and you felt your throat close up, only able to form a shy smile of your own.

After the introductions, you all filed into the dining room and took your seats. Bucky sat at the head of the table, with you just to his left. Sam sat across from you with Steve beside him and Scott plopped down on your other side. Just as you were getting settled and ready to dig in, Bucky excused himself to grab drinks for everyone, bringing Scott along to help him out.

“Y/N?” Sam said your name so cautiously that you thought he was about to tell you that you had a bug on you. “This is a personal question and all but, Bucky isn’t your soulmate is he?”

“No, he’s not.” You answered with a bit of reserve in your tone because it was the last thing you wanted to talk about and the first thing that was brought up.

“Okay, in that case, I don’t want to alarm you but you should probably get your hand under the table before he comes back,” Sam warned you, his voice brought down to barely a mumble. He quirked a brow at Steve before speaking again, “both of you.”

Your eyes followed Sam’s to find a bluish bruise-like mark covering the palm of Steve’s hand. A wave of heat rolled over your body and you felt your heart drop when you looked down at your own overlooked hand. Four fingerprints and a thumb shape marked the back of your hand, the marks matching the same shade of blue as the ones on Steve’s hand.

“Holy shit, not now.” You whispered, hastily tucking your hand under the table while Steve stared at his own as if he were completely fascinated. Sam elbowed Steve, snapping him back into reality just in time as Bucky and Scott returned with drinks.

“What’d we miss?” Bucky asked, looking between the three of you. He was so blissfully unaware of what was going on that you almost felt bad. Luckily Sam interjected before you could put your foot in your mouth while you worked on calming your pulse and slowing your thoughts.

The dinner seemed to drag on from that point forward. It has been said that the longer your soulmate’s marks stayed on you, the stronger your bond would be. Every time you glanced down, it would still be there and the more you thought about it disappearing, the more afraid you got. It took everything in you to keep your eyes off of Steve and keep your hand where it wouldn’t be seen. Everything seemed to change within record time while your mind kept drifting to the stranger that left his mark on you. It felt as if you knew everything about him, he was only a few feet away and your heart missed him. The rise and fall of your chests were in sync and you had no doubt that the rapid beats of your hearts were parallel as well. It was all becoming too much.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke out, interrupting the idle chat the boys were having. Bucky looked at you, his eyes heavy with concern but you just shook your head and stood from the table, being sure to tuck your hand into your pocket. “It was nice meeting you guys but I actually have to head out.”

“Babe, are you sure?” Bucky tried to stop you but you just pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you’d call him tomorrow before making your way to the door, grabbing your jacket on the way out.

The air outside felt crisp. It was just what you needed to clear your lungs of the thick secret that floated around Bucky’s dining room. Your legs carried you at a more brisk speed than you normally walked at, almost as if you were trying to put as much distance between yourself and Bucky’s apartment as possible. But the further you got away, the more your heart screamed at you to turn around. Luckily, your brain was still intact and pushed you forward despite the tears forming in your eyes.

“Y/N, wait!” A voice called from behind you and though you wanted to just ignore it and keep going, you stopped in your tracks.

You closed your eyes, your ears picking up the sound of shoes hitting the pavement behind you. After taking a deep breath, you looked down at your hand and blinked the tears from your eyes when you saw the mark still far from fading. You gathered up your courage and turned to face whatever you’d have to answer to. Steve didn’t speak and he made sure not to touch you but his eyes told their own story. Without a single thought passing through your mind, your hands found his face and your lips crashed into his.

It was like a primal instinct. It felt right and natural to feel his arms wrap around your waist and his lips against yours. This was everything you wanted to feel, the joy and unspoken love but it was also everything you were afraid of. You had someone that was yours and would never have anyone else like him again. Steve was the one to reluctantly break the kiss, his eyes bore into you as if he was learning all of your deepest secrets just by looking.

“I think we should talk.”

Tags - (forever) @bovaria @bionic-buckyb @sebbytrash @marvel-ash @purgatoan @mrs-squirrel-chester @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @feelmyroarrrr @belledamsceno @my-blackbird-universe @hellomissmabel @callalilyiskewl @huffleypuffelycas @obi-wan-my-only-ho @alexx-in-wonderland123 @thirstybitchqueen @palaiasaurus64 @sarahpanda65 @explodingzombiesyndrome @supermoonpanda @callamint @takemetoneverland91 @jurassicbarnes @mizzzpink @seargantbcky @marvel-fanfiction @hollycornish

(steve rogers) @justareader @netflixa @winterboobaer @angelofwinchester17 @toasterofinjustice @silvervibraniumalloy @thelostpieceofpizza

(challenge) @vengeful-alpha @musichowler @buckysmetallicstump @werewolfbuckybarnes @girl-next-door-writes @zimniysoldat-fiction @a-home-for-stray-stories @melonshino-writes @tatortot2701 @moreinfinite @astralbarnes @marvelous-heroimagines @babybarness

@dadbuck @empathiccally @4theluvofall @buckys-fossil @assert-sarim @goody2shoessmut @sebastianstandoffish @i-cant-believe-its-not-war @lokid-by-winters-child @daasrighht @theassetseyeliner @buckyappreciationsociety @cate-lynne @not-withovt-yov @minervaem2 @beccaane814 @roobiecube94 @buckys-shield @land-of-parchment-and-ink @greeneyedgirls4 @wandarific @avengedwritings @serzhantkris @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky @dacianamusik23 @saulof-tarsus @sunriserose1023 @supersoldier-buckybarnes @t0kistar @another-writer @wndas-romanoff @swtltlmrvlgrl @buckys-chubby-plum @avengerofyourheart @buckysbackpackbuckle @maha-pambata-is-my-patronus @imma-fcking--nerd @marvelfanuniverse @mindingmyownbusiness @knittingknerdy @bucks-metal-fate

#kaits5kauchallenge #howlingb writes #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #au #soulmate au #college au

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