#HOW DO YOU EXPECT HIM TO PUMP OUT MASSIVE UPDATES IN SUCH LITTLE TIME

[azzydoesstuff]

people on steam discussion forums when making the game takes time and the developer has a life instead of slaving away 23 hours a day for to make them free updates twice a week:

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[that-damn-girl]

(1) Daze of Pollen

(Work in Progress - 1 of 8; Slow updates)

Daze of Pollen Materlist

Pairing: (cis)fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson

Words: 1800+

Warnings: None except language?

Summary:  Bucky, Steve, Sam and you are in the safe house post mission when a retrieved Hydra device activates, releasing a kind of pollen you don’t know of, but the effects of which are soon discovered.

A/N: To all my horny bitches out there, I’m sorry the first chapter isn’t smutty. I didn’t plan on keeping the entire first chapter as the intro but it just...happened. Also, This is my submission for @buckyssoul​​ ‘s Rae Hit 1k Marvel Writing Challenge. I’m sorry for the delay. Hope you like it!

It is a strange concept, really. We don't always get what we want. But  if we do, it's when we least expect it, in the most strangest of ways as well.

Call it your good luck, fate, destiny, a simple mere coincidence, or whatever. You were grateful for that night in the safe house regardless. For the first and the last time, you could say that you were thankful for a little Hydra contraption.

It all started during a peaceful dinner. You and your group of friends were relaxing after a successful mission, treating yourselves with any and all comfort food available in the safe house. The mission was anticipated to be much harder than usual; the only reason why Bucky and Sam had asked you and Steve to accompany them. Quite unexpectedly, the mission went smoothly and it seemed there was no need for the extra help they had requested. But considering the mission consisted of scoping out an abandoned Hydra base, being overly cautious was preferred than being overconfident. One never knew the levels of villainy Hydra truly possessed.

Oh, you were about to discover the truth in that statement just fine.

Bucky sat across from you on the dining table, Sam to your right. The duo played catch with a balled sheet of paper, their half eaten meals abandoned on the table. You and Steve conversed with them while enjoying your respective sandwiches.

It was true that Steve had given up his Captain America mantle to Sam, a man just as deserving of the title, but hadn't completely retired. He didn't get out on the field anymore, but used his excellent strategic skills in planning the missions sometimes, especially if it included Hydra. 

All of you would have been enroute to the Compound had Rhodey and Scott not hogged the quinjet. None of you minded though. With the four of you together, it was very much like a quiet night in with close friends. Unbeknown to you, it wasn't going to be particularly quiet much longer.

"Does it smell funny to anybody else here?" Bucky asked, pausing midway while rocking his chair. Squinting his eyes, he glanced around himself to locate the source of the smell, a deep frown etched onto his features.

Steve took a tentative whiff, you and Sam doing the same. "No pal, I don't smell anything."

"It's…" Bucky closed his eyes, taking in deep inhales. "It's faint but it's there. I'm sure of it." 

You and Sam glanced at each other, a raised eyebrow followed by a shrug. Suddenly Bucky sat up with a start, his gaze fixating on a corner of the room. Following his line of sight, you found the hard black stacked containers with the Shield logo which held the Hydra files and devices you had retrieved from the base earlier in the mission. 

"It's coming from there, I think." Bucky stood up and reached the stacked containers in only a few long strides. Before any of you could stop him, he lifted the cover to inspect its contents. 

Immediately a puff of bright yellow powder-like substance was released from the inside, as if a smoke bomb had been triggered. Bucky coughed as the coloured dust hit his senses. It didn't take long for the particles to dissipate in the air. Soon the clean air around you was shrouded with the yellow dust, leaving all of you a coughing mess.

"What is it?" You wondered, one hand waving in front of your face to get rid of the dust while the other protectively covered your nose. It was no use though. It was everywhere, the particles so fine they slithered through the gaps between your fingers. You could do nothing but inhale it as you coughed helplessly. The particles stuck to the insides of your mouth. You couldn't feel them on your tongue or the roof of your mouth, but the dryness that followed was a sure shot indication. The tangy scent of it overwhelmed your senses, making you wonder how could you have missed it.

"Look inside the container, Bucky. See what released it." Sam instructed with broken words in between the coughs.

"Fucking Hydra," Steve muttered under his breath.

Following Sam's orders, Bucky peeked inside and pulled out a wooden cube. It was small enough to be grasped in his palm. One of its faces had the ugly red symbol of Hydra painted on it. The cube was heavily cracked along the sides. Had Bucky not held onto it firmly, it would have fallen apart right then. 

Sam, you and Steve drifted closer to Bucky as the yellow dust gradually dissipated into nothing - or rather as the most of it was already inhaled by you all. The cube appeared to hold some carvings in a language you supposed was Russian. 

"I...don't...understand…" Bucky's fingers drifted across the letters as he tried to make sense of it. "Fuck!" With widened eyes, Bucky retraced the words, confirming what he had read. Throwing the cube across the room, he started pacing the room, his head hidden behind his palms. 

"Come on, man, you're scaring me." Steve said, approaching his friend.

"You should be!" Bucky yelled, all his frustrations coming out on the wrong person. He loudly groaned, rubbing his forehead, "I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"What is it, Bucky?" You asked.

Bucky looked at you, his gaze sweeping over your form. He bit his lip, an almost remorseful look coming over in his eyes. In a much softer voice, he said, "I don't know how to explain it. I don't know where to start."

"Do you know what the yellow dust we all inhaled was?" Sam asked. 

Bucky replied after a long pause. "It was a sort of pollen which Hydra had engineered." 

"Hydra modified...pollen?" You asked. The idea sounded as bizarre to you as snow in the Sahara. "What?"

"No- Well, um, yes," Bucky took a deep breath before he started explaining. "Hydra could never replicate the super soldier serum they used on me. But they needed more super soldiers. It hardly ever happened that anybody else would succeed in recreating those serums so that Hydra could steal. They decided that if they couldn't transform using the serums, they would...breed super soldiers. That's when Project Growth started. These pollen were engineered to assist in it." 

"How did the pollen assist Project Growth?" You asked, confusion dripping from your voice.

Bucky glanced at you but quickly diverted his gaze, unable to keep the eye contact. "Project Growth was about using super soldiers like me and those four others to... impregnate willing women. Conception with super soldiers is harder than usual for some reason. So they came up with this pollen to aid the process. It's an aphrodisiac. They called it sex pollen, because well, it increases one's sexl drive... by a lot. So much so that it might be fatal if the person exposed to it doesn't, you know, climax."

"What? Are we gonna want to fuck like rabbits then? Become Hydra's breeding bitches?" Sam asked, crossing his arms in front of him.

"The experiments were never successful. They did it a couple of times and it never resulted in a pregnancy. This box," Bucky gestured to the broken cube lying on the floor, "I don't know how or when but it got activated somehow." He shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea if the pollen inside it was a sample of those failed experiments or if that of a new one. Either way, we don't have long before the effects would start showing."

There was a lull in the room, the implications of what Bucky said sitting heavy on everyone's minds.

"We can keep ourselves locked in our separate rooms until it wears off to...get ourselves off." Steve's cheeks were tinged a deep shade of red as he proposed the idea.

"It's not that easy. Trust me, I've been through it." Bucky looked at Steve. "It's something about needing another person's touch; a sense of intimacy. No matter what you do on your own, it won't ever be enough. It would send you in a daze of lust, where the only thing you could focus on would be to anyhow satiate yourselves. You would desperately want another person to touch you, no matter who or what gender. You'd need them to touch you." He glanced at each one of you. "I'm sorry, but it's going to be nasty."

"So what you're saying is, it's basically fuck or die?" Sam said.

"When you put it that way…" Bucky tried to think of a better phrase but finding none, he replied, "-Well, yes."

"I don't know what to say," You crossed your hands in front of your chest. To say that you were shocked was a massive understatement. You couldn't even begin to believe that any of it was true.

Unconsciously, your gaze drifted over each of the men in the room. They all stood with a hard look on their handsome faces, lost deep in thought. You weren't sure if it was you or the pollen due to which you felt yourself get wet, your panties gradually dampening and sticking to your form. 

Truth be told, you had always wondered what being with these men would feel like, what fucking them would be like. Would Sam choke you in a sensual manner with those bulging arms of his? Would Bucky keep you pinned to the bed with his thick thighs? What would gripping America's Ass feel like when Steve would be pumping his length into you?

You bit your lip, your mind conjuring up a train of lewd images. You wondered if it all would come true that night. Though you had considered them insanely attractive since the day you had met them, you never dared to act upon any of your desires with either of them. They were your close friends, and you'd be damned if you'd destroy it for a night of pleasure.

Now though, you had no other option but to fuck them if you valued your life. On any other day you would have laughed boisterously had anyone suggested such a thing, but it was your reality right then. 

You realized it didn't have to be a necessarily bad thing though

Huffing dramatically, you stood straighter, hands falling by your sides. With a newfound confidence, you asked, "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

"What?" Steve asked, dumbfounded. 

"At one point or the other, we would eventually go crawling to someone. I don't think we'd be in control of ourselves if it would make us that desperate. Avoiding the inevitable makes no sense. It's better to start it while we are still able to make conscious decisions and consent to being with each other. At least I'd prefer that."

The men looked at each other, a silent conversation happening amongst them. Bucky asked, "Are you sure, Y/N?" 

You smiled. "I am, Bucky. If it's gonna be this way, then I'm glad it's the three of you. Are you guys sure though?"

Bucky glanced at Sam and Steve before smirking, "You bet we are, babydoll."

You walked closer to Bucky, standing on the tip of your toes as your arms curved around his neck, excitement thrumming through your veins. "Let's get this show started then."

Chapter 2

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[blitzturtles]

Title: Freezing

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DCU / DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayTim w/ Batfam

Summary: “He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

Notes: For my 100th fic on Ao3, I thought I'd go back to the beginning. What got me back into writing: DC Comics and the Batfam.

Also, full credit to my wife (@sexyvanillatiger) for not only beta reading this thing, but also helping me with the information on DKA and rewriting several bits of the story to make it work.

For the record, this is an extremely unlikely scenario that most people with an insulin pump won't have to worry about. It has more to do with Tim's particular style of pump originally being one with an external catheter, as well as his being a) underdressed for the weather and b) out for far too long in said weather.

I will say that, though it is unlikely, pump failure due to freezing temperatures has happened, so please be mindful when you're out and about!

-

It’s three in the morning and freezing, and the last thing Jason expects is to hear Dick’s voice ring through the comm in his ear while he’s midair, between the end of one building and the beginning of the next. He’s busy, very nearly disconnects on the spot given the mood he’s in, but Dick seems to sense the impending end of the conversation.

“Wait!”

“What do you want, Nightwing?” He grinds the name out with far too much disdain. It’s not Dick’s fault that he’s in a bad mood.

“It’s Tim. He’s-”

Truth be told, Jason hears nothing after that. After ‘Tim’. Not Red Robin, not Red, not even Babybird. No, just Tim.

“Shit!” He very nearly goes careening off the side of the next building with the abrupt shift in his momentum and the loss of focus. There’s ice clinging to every other surface, which wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t distracted. He can hear Dick’s frantic voice on the other end of the comm, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to explain.

“Where is he?” Jason demands once he’s regained his footing and has a moment to school his tone into something near neutral.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. He-”

“What do you mean, ‘We don’t know’? What the fuc-”

“He missed his last check-in,” Dick finishes, unphased by the interruption.

“How long?” Jason asks, barely noticing how his voice shakes.

“Only twenty minutes, but-”

“But he’s working on a goddamn human trafficking ring, and it’s fucking freezing,” Jason finishes. He doesn’t need Dick to explain to him why twenty minutes is suddenly a big deal and not Tim losing track of time. “What about his tracker?”

“He turned it off after his last contact. We’re not sure why, but Oracle is working on pinning down possible locations based on his last. Look, B’s- Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m getting you involved, but you know that side of Gotham better than any of us,” at least on practical experience. Jason has spent months blending into the crowds in the past, as much as he hated every second of it.

“That’s just great, Dickie,” to hell with codenames. And to hell with his helmet. He tugs it off his head and tosses it at the nearest surface. The damn thing doesn’t so much as crack from the impact, but he can breathe again.

For a moment, he forgets that he has a secondary comm in his ear, which is why he flinches when Dick speaks again, “You also know Babybird better than any of us. I was just- hoping, I guess, that you would have a better idea once Oracle came up with her list.”

“Yeah, yeah, send it my way, will you? And his last location. Whatever files the computer has. I want all of it.”

“Done.”

Jason scoops his helmet off the ground and secures it in place again. No time to waste now. He starts shifting through the information the moment Dick sends it over. There are names that he recognizes. Places that he’s been too. Clubs that he’s spent the wee hours of the morning pretending to get plastered in, while flirting with the sort of men he’d happily put a bullet in any other time (for several of them, he had). But none of it tells him where Tim might be now, or why he thought going AWOL was some brilliant idea.

And here’s the thing, Jason’s in the mood he’s in because of this whole human trafficking bullshit. He knows Tim’s been working on it for the last few weeks, though Jason only found out about it in the last couple of days. Probably because Tim’s smart enough to know that Jason doesn’t want any of them so directly involved in that shit, least of all Tim. But there’s no stopping his-- he still doesn’t know when Tim went from ‘the’ to ‘his’-- Replacement when he gets an idea in his head.

It brings Jason no comfort to know that the temperature outside is frigid. He can feel it sink into his bones, despite the warmth of his suit. Technology can only get them so far without impacting agility, and Tim is a lot like Dick in that he likes to fly through the air, unhindered.

Dick passes Oracle’s findings over a few minutes later, when Jason’s already halfway to Tim’s last location. He’s on his bike. Going on foot would take too long, and they’ve already lost-- fuck-shit, thirty-two minutes now.

He tears through all the clubs in the area. Takes out more kneecaps than he has in months, but it doesn’t get him anywhere. The rooftops don’t help either. The advantage is lost when tracking a fellow Bat. Tim moves with purpose, and he does it without leaving a trace.

At least until Jason stumbles into an alley by sheer luck. One that could be in disarray for any reason, but he catches sight of a Batarang. It’s surface glints off the streetlight behind him. There’s no blood. No fibers stuck to it. It looks like it’s been dropped more than thrown, and he doesn’t know what to make of that, but his stomach is turning painfully.

Something is definitely wrong; he just doesn’t know what.

Dick chirps updates in his ear. Brief lines of information; none of it useful. The rest of them are having as much (or less) luck as he is, though he doesn’t immediately report his findings. It could be something; then again, it could be nothing, and they don’t need to all bunge together just to step on each others’ toes with no chance of finding Tim before someone or something gets to him.

The next three alleys look similar to the first in that they could all but in the state that they are because they’re part of the seedier night scene of Gotham, but something about them rings wrong in Jason’s head. There’s a garbage bag that’s strewn across the asphalt, like someone knocked it over rather than it having been pushed or thrown, and eerie signs of a scuffle that don’t look right either. There’s no blood and no sign of reciprocation. Only the snowy remains of a chaotic waltz littered throughout.

And that’s when he all but stumbles into a body. Curled and small with lips that are too close to blue and a face that’s ashen white.

Jason’s on his knees in an instant, calling Tim’s name-- Red? Robin? Drake, he hisses the last one in barely a whisper, but none of them yield results. Tim stays there, unmoving. His chest barely moves, but the bizarre part is how there doesn’t seem to be any injuries besides a trickle of blood that might be coming from Tim’s temple. His suit is otherwise intact, and who would leave a Bat incapacitated without finishing the job? Around here, not a single bastard.

He’s lifting Tim up before he can think to call for help. He carries him back to his bike and manages to maneuver them both onto the seat. He keeps Tim in front of him, awkward as it is, with one arm hooked around the limp body. The only saving grace in the moment is how goddamn small Tim is.

“Nightwing,” he calls as he starts the bike. “Cave, now.” He severs the connection before Dick has a chance to respond.

By the time he gets to the Cave, his heart is pounding away in his chest. Tim still hasn’t woken up. Still hasn’t so much as shifted in his unconscious state, and Jason is getting frantic. More and more terrified with each passing second, and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other when he pulls to a stop and gets Tim in his arms once again.

The face that greets him isn’t Dick’s, but Bruce’s, and Jason’s too afraid to give a shit. Too out of his depth. He can stitch wounds and even remove bullets, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong with Tim or how to fix it. He’s completely at Bruce’s mercy, and that would ordinarily piss him off, but, right now? He can feel wetness build in his eyes and his voice shakes as he looks at Bruce with desperation.

“Please,” he begs, knowing that he doesn’t have to, but unable to stop himself anyways.

Bruce doesn’t miss a beat. He’s already reaching for Tim, and it feels like someone pulling the rug from underneath Jason’s feet the moment his arms are empty again. There’s nothing keeping him steady, keeping him moving forward. At least not until Bruce glances back over his shoulder and calls,

“Jason.”

Jason scrambles forward, falling in after Bruce, and he feels all of about twelve years old again, following behind the Bat’s massive silhouette without question.

Alfred meets him in the infirmary, and the two make quick work of stripping Tim out of his suit. It would be impressive, considering the security measures, if Jason were able to take the time to appreciate anything, but he’s too wrapped up in his ever growing anxiety. The more skin that becomes visible, the more alarmed they all become. There’s no bruising, no blood. No explanation.

They start him on fluids for lack of anything else to do, and there is a minor contusion on the side of Tim’s head that indicates that he must have hit it at some point, but it's apparent to Jason-- the way it is to Bruce and Alfred-- that the trauma happened as Tim hit the ground and not as the result of someone getting the better of him.

“Oh,” Alfred breathes, and two pairs of blue eyes snap in his direction. He’s holding a strip of paper-- the results of his blood test-- with a frown etched into his features.

Bruce reaches out, and Alfred passes them over wordlessly. He moves around the infirmary in a flurry, gathering supplies with renewed purpose. For some reason, it only makes Jason’s heart beat that much harder in his chest.

“What is it?”

“He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

“He does, and I did,” Bruce agrees with a grunt. It’s clear that he’s just as lost as Jason, but he doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before Alfred is calling him over, leaving Jason to stew on the information and watch from the sidelines because diabetic complications are definitely outside of his scope of practice.

He feels useless. Beyond, even, and he can’t stop looping back to the pump. That’s the whole reason Tim has it. So he can patrol without complications. He remembers the excitement when Tim first got it. All the information he had to absorb as part of being approved in the first place. He’s been stable on the damn thing for months. So why is his blood sugar through the roof?

It feels like hours until Alfred lets them know that Tim’s responding to treatment-- which includes a complicated setup of three different bags of fluids that Jason couldn’t identify for the life of him-- and beginning to improve. Jason doesn’t know how much time has actually passed, but he’s been in his head the whole of it, replaying the same questions and spiralling down the same, horrific scenarios. His cheeks itch with the feeling of dried tears, though he doesn’t know when he started crying (or when he stopped, for that matter).

He sits beside Tim diligently, despite his exhaustion, and holds his smaller hand in both of his own. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded, especially as everyone else comes and goes. Alfred never goes far, though Bruce disappears entirely to do god knows what. Dick hugs him, but he’s smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Damian’s about as comforting as he never is, but the worry is apparent in his eyes, even as he insists that Tim’s situation is more of a nuisance than anything else.

Cass stops by before Stephanie. A quiet presence that actually soothes Jason’s nerves, only to be followed by a quiet that sets them alight. Stephanie is rarely so subdued, but she disappears quickly, evidently unable to handle just standing there. She mutters something about finishing the job. It would concern Jason more if he weren’t already certain that none of them were going to be able to fly under Bruce’s radar for a bit.

Speaking of, Bruce announces his return by not-so-gently placing something on the little metal cart by Tim’s bed. It takes Jason a moment to recognize it as Tim’s pump, though it’s been pulled apart and now sits in multiple pieces.

“What-”

“It froze,” Bruce says before Jason can continue.

“What?” Jason repeats.

They can freeze? Is that something they knew? Why the hell hadn’t Tim taken precautions going out into sub-zero temperatures?

“Not the whole pump. This,” Bruce traces the remains of the clear tubing that typically goes from the pump to the injection point that sits under Tim’s skin. The line, itself, usually sits on Tim’s hip. “The catheter. The vial has enough insulin in it that it would have been fine, if not for this and the weather.”

“Why-?” Jason can’t finish the question. Doesn’t know what he means to ask in the first place, but Bruce doesn’t hesitate to answer,

“He didn’t know. Neither did I, for that matter. It never occurred to any of us.”

Oh.

Jesus.

Tim could have died, and not one of them would have realized why until it was too late.

“From what I can find, it’s not typically a concern,” Bruce goes on, though Jason’s only half listening. He supposes that makes sense, though, considering most people aren’t spending hours in the cold. He wonders how long Tim had been struggling. Alone and dazed and stumbling over his feet. That explains the condition of the alley. There really hadn’t been any fights. Just Tim, grabbing at anything and everything.

“If I had to guess,” and Bruce doesn’t look happy with the idea of not knowing, “He turned his tracker off in confusion.” Possibly while trying to call for help, he doesn’t say, and it makes Jason sick to think about.

“That shouldn’t fucking happen,” Jason snaps, less at Bruce and more at the universe.

“I know,” Bruce answers when the universe remains as silent as ever, “Lucius is working on it now. We’ve already discussed the possibility of adding a second, remotely activated tracker.” All of their trackers can be remotely activated, unless they’re turned off. Having a second just means that they would have a backup should anything happen to the original.

“Good,” Jason says, for lack of anything else to say. He finds some comfort in the idea, but it doesn’t exactly make him feel better now. Particularly not when Tim is without a pump entirely, which means they’re back to constant checks and needle drawn injections, both of which he knows Tim hates. Both of which interfere with Tim’s ability to patrol for any extended period of time.

“Tim will be alright,” Bruce tells him in a tone that’s entirely too gentle to be coming out of his mouth, “Alfred says his numbers are looking better.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s mouth feels dry, and he feels his eyes burning. He works his jaw a few times to try to regain control. He doesn’t need to cry a second time, not when everything’s fine now. Tim will wake up in a bit, probably feeling like shit, but he’ll be alive.

“He’s alright,” Bruce reiterates as he crouches in front of Jason and tugs him forward. Jason doesn’t resist, allows himself to be maneuvered until his head is pressed into Bruce’s shoulder.

Neither move for what seems like an eternity, but Jason finally breaks the contact and wipes as subtly as he can at his eyes while looking Tim over. “He’s going to hate using needles again.”

“He should have a new pump before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes, “He’ll- thanks.”

It doesn’t fix the current problem with the cold, but there are measures they can take against that. Measures that Tim won’t like, but it will be better for him to have his pump so that he doesn’t have to draw up his insulin, which, from what Jason understands, is less accurate than the pump anyways.

Bruce hums his response before opening his mouth to add, “You should go get washed up. Or changed, at least.”

Says the man still wearing his giant Bat suit, but Jason doesn’t feel like starting an argument for no reason when he’s still on edge. “You gonna stay here?”

“Of course. I’ll be here until you get back.”

“Okay,” thank you.

“Take your time,” you’re welcome.

______

By the time Jason showers, changes into some of the clothes kept in the dresser of his old room, and makes it back down to the Cave, Tim is still out, though there’s finally some color in his cheeks. A nice little dusting of pink that makes him look alive, and his lips are slowly beginning to regain some color, too.

“Alfred just came by,” Bruce says when he sees Jason, “He says that Tim should wake up soon.”

“Good,” Jason says, voicing the most subdued version of what’s going on in his head.

After too long, or maybe too short of a pause, Bruce says, “I need to get to work on a few things. Will you be alright?”

Jason has to brush away his immediate irritation (of course Bruce needs to do shit while another one of his kids is recovering from a near death experience; what else would he be doing?) and remind himself that Bruce has spent the better part of the last forty minutes sitting with Tim. That might as well be a lifetime in Bat years. Jason rarely sees Bruce sit still that long without a computer screen reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, B,” he probably wouldn’t, but word would get to Bruce eventually.

______

The first time Tim opens his eyes, Jason’s excitement and relief are crushed almost immediately. Tim’s far from his usual self. He’s more out of it than Jason’s ever seen him, with his head lolling back and eyes flickering. What comes out of his mouth is mostly babbled nonsense in between groans.

Jason calls for Alfred immediately, and he’s just this side of his anxiety getting the better of him when Alfred reassures him that the state that Tim is in is to be expected after what his body went through. Besides, his carbon dioxide levels are still low and his blood sugar hasn’t come down very far yet. It’s going to take time for Tim to fully recover, but it’s a lot for Jason to take in all at once.

“Turn ‘ff the lights,” Tim grumbles, startling Jason from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ lights, turn ‘em off.”

Under any other circumstances, the uncharacteristically grumpy demand would have Jason laughing. Right now, it just makes his chest ache.

Alfred dims the lights before speaking, “He may be a bit grouchy.”

Jason lets out a small snort, “Thanks, Alf.”

Alfred offers him a small smile. Evidently pleased that he’s managed to lighten Jason’s mood, even if only a little bit.

“Stop,” Tim groans, causing the two to turn back toward him.

“Sorry,” Jason mutters at the same time that Alfred says, “Apologies, Master Tim.”

Tim huffs at both of them before seemingly drifting off once more.

______

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you next time,” Jason grumbles at Bruce’s retreating back. The man is being even more stoic over not being told about Tim’s wake-up, which, to be fair, hadn’t been that remarkable, beyond the amount of stress that it had caused Jason. Besides, if Bruce weren’t so damned busy with whatever it is he’s doing, he might have known that Tim had woken up briefly.

Bruce says nothing as the door closes behind him, apparently aware that Jason is more irritable than usual and unwilling to get into a fight over it.

Jason huffs and sits back in his seat. Part of him wishes Bruce would start something. He’s getting antsy sitting in the Cave this long. Hell, he’s just tired of sitting, but there’s only so much pacing he can do.

“You should be nice,” Tim croaks from his spot in bed, effectively startling the shit out of Jason in the process.

“That was nice, and fuck you,” Jason answers easily, but his heart is bounding away in his chest.

“For which part?”

“All of it, Replacement,” the part where Tim scared the shit out of him and the part where he has the audacity to comment on Jason’s shitty people skills first upon waking up after nearly dying.

“Ouch, I’m back to the Replacement, huh?”

Jason snorts, “You’re damn right. Only a Replacement would pull something like that.”

Tim winces, “Sorry.”

Oh. That’s not fair. The sad look in Tim’s eyes and the pained expression. That’s just plain cheating. “It’s okay,” Jason sighs, “I’m just glad we found you in time.” He doesn’t mention the part where he had been the one to find Tim. Unresponsive and blue in the face. Looking more dead than alive.

“Who?”

“Dickiebird, obviously.” Blue enough.

Tim huffs a small, would-be laugh. It quickly turns into a cough and a groan. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”

“You kinda look like it, too, but I hear that’s just your face.”

Tim blinks at him, slow and owlish, but the joke seems to register after a moment and he shoots Jason a nasty look. “You can leave whenever you want.”

“You’d like that.”

“I really would.”

“Too bad.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Something fucking stellar: me.”

Tim snorts, but his expression sobers after a moment, “I’m sorry. Really. I- I didn’t know what was happening. I still- did my blood sugar drop?”

“No, the opposite actually.”

“Wait, what?” Tim’s frown deepens and his brows come together, “But-”

“The insulin in the outside part of your pump froze.”

Tim’s hand suddenly reaches for where the pump typically sits. A frantic effort in a tangle of IV tubing that comes up empty. “Where-?”

“Bruce took it. He says you’ll have another one by tomorrow, but I think that one’s pretty shot. He took it apart.”

“Oh,” Tim deflates slightly.

“It almost killed you, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim breathes out. “I know, it’s stupid. Just… Sucks, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jason answers, for lack of anything else to say. He reaches for one of Tim’s hands and squeezes scarred fingers with his own, calloused pads. “No more patrolling when it’s this cold, I guess.”

“I guess,” Tim echoes, a sign that he doesn’t actually want to agree, but knows that Jason’s right.

Jason squeezes his hand again. This time he gets a gentle squeeze back, which is something of a reassurance. “At least not alone,” he offers after a moment of hesitation. He’s not sure he should give Tim that hope, but he wouldn’t mind company every so often, and the human trafficking shit is something Jason works with on the regular. He can always put aside his more… lethal habits for a bit. There’s nothing stopping him from hunting down names in the future and taking care of business when Tim’s not looking. It’s not as if Tim doesn’t already know what Jason gets up to in his spare time.

“You- really?”

“Really. I’ve worked with a team before.”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d want to now,” Tim points out with a frown.

“It’s you,” it’s different. Maybe Jason will learn how to say half the things he means aloud, but he finds he doesn’t usually have to. Not with Tim, the little deductive prodigy that he is.

“Okay,” Tim smiles at him. A weak, shaky thing, but it’s there, and Jason smiles back.

______

Bruce steps into the infirmary with that usual, severe expression on his face that doesn’t give much away. He’s holding a small box with absolutely no markings on it, and he passes it to Tim wordlessly.

“What’s this?” Tim asks with his brows knitted together, but he doesn’t actually expect an answer. Instead, he opens the box up carefully and finds a new pump sitting inside.

“Freezing won’t be an issue,” Bruce explains before Tim can ask about the lack of a visible catheter. “It’s a single unit. No external catheter, and there’s a warming component that automatically runs under certain conditions to keep the insulin at the ideal temperature.”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, eyes widening as he processes the words. “You-”

“Lucius helped,” Bruce answers with a half shrug and eyes that stay focused on the thing in Tim’s hands rather than the wonder in his son’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth tug upward before he can stop them, “We just want you safe.”

“Still, thank you.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, before he says, “Anytime, Tim.”

[doobler]

Coupling

//N.SFW content warning//

"--as previously stated, based on my extensive research, we can expect another Lynel to take up residence nearby within the season. Specifically here."

Gyorgyo pointed a claw towards the Wetlands, near the abandoned remnants of Goponga. He circled his finger around Ploymus Mountain, Tarm Point, and the East Gate.

"There's a current power imbalance," Gyorgyo crossed his hands behind his back. He may have looked uninterested but enthusiasm shone through his monotone voice. "And free land almost ensures that a Lynel will move in to take that real estate. I'll be making weekly trips to that area, just to keep an eye on development."

"You amaze me yet again, young Gyorgyo," King Dorephan finally relaxed for the first time during the meeting. "Keep up the good work. We really depend on your expertise, especially now as monsters grow bolder and stronger."

"It's always my pleasure, Highness," Gyorgyo replied casually as he began packing his things. "I don't know how else I'd contribute to the Domain and this is my passion so. I'm happy to help."

"And help you do," Dorephan peered back and up at Ploymus Mountain, towards Shatterback Point. "I heard a terrible roar just the other day. Was that you?"

Gyorgyo was rather talented at suffocating any hint of an emotive response. He smoothly gathered up his paperwork, maps, and charts and fixed Dorephan with an easy smirk.

"An occupational hazard. Taken care of."

Dorephan shook his head slowly, exhaling with a smile.

"You never cease to impress me, Gyorgyo. Until our next update."

"Until then, Highness." Gyorgyo bowed as he left and tried not to grin at the memory.

"Ahn, fuck, watch it, you're hurting me."

The Lynel snorted, pawing at the ground in frustration. He readjusted, nudging up between Gyorgyo's thighs.

"Yes, yes, I know, love, you're all pent-up," Gyorgyo's voice went soft and sweet. He patted affectionately at the Lynel's ribs and that seemed to soothe him. "Patience. Then you can go wild."

Gyorgyo reached back. He slicked his fingers with more numbing salve and stretched himself open, pressing his chest into the ground to raise his hips higher. It'd taken months of coercion just to get to the point where Gyorgyo could lay down a sheet for his frequent escapes here to Shatterback Point. This Lynel was the easiest to tame, only because he was accustomed to seeing Zoras. Even then, most of Gyorgyo's spare time went into his "work".

"King Dorephan heard you roar last week," Gyorgyo felt smug. He retracted his hand, watching the slippery salve drool down his fingers. "If only he'd known what had caused it, maybe he'd have been less impressed."

The Lynel snorted haughtily and pawed once more at the ground. 

"So impatient," Gyorgyo tutted but he could feel saliva pooling on his tongue. "I'm right here, lovey, just wait--"

Gyorgyo reached back, gripping the Lynel's cock. It was huge, at least the length and thickness of the Zora's arm. Gyorgyo knew the taste of it well, the girth, the weight. He'd spent hours, days, tracing every inch of the Lynel's manhood with his hands and tongue. 

Once familiarity had been established, copulating had come rather quickly. Lynels were very intelligent but still quite feral; they didn't vy for cuddles and kisses and holding hands by the fire. Gyorgyo arrived, was fucked hard and fast into the dirt, then abandoned. He wasn't bothered by it; he got what he wanted and the Lynel did, too. All was fair.

"Fuck!"

Gyorgyo groaned as the flared head of the Lynel's cock pressed insistently at his slick asshole. Lynels were incredibly powerful creatures but this one had learned that Zora aren't nearly as durable. Rather than tearing Gyorgyo in half with one mighty thrust, he gave persistent little humps until the head of his cock pushed in. Gyorgyo moaned, pressing his forehead down into the sheet beneath him. He'd acclimated to the delicious stretch, knew how to take deep even breaths and relax.

"Good boy," He breathed, reaching back to cinch a forefinger and thumb around the Lynel's shaft. "Nice and easy."

He felt as inch after inch of the Lynel's cock slipped deeper and deeper inside him. When his fingers bumped up against his ass, he patted the Lynel's ribs and his movement stopped. 

He's so well trained now, Gyorgyo thought with glee. 

The Lynel drew back a few inches and Gyorgyo scrambled to reach back, slicking his cock with more numbing salve. The Lynel tossed his mane and gave an appreciative growl. He pushed back in slowly and took care not to go past that point Gyorgyo had marked with his grip. 

Shit, Gyorgyo's eyes rolled back with pleasure. He's so damn smart and his cock feels so damn good.

Moments like these made Gyorgyo wish he could be held or pinned down. Lynel anatomy wasn't the most complimentary to that of a Zora's. 

The Lynel started up a slow rhythm, fucking in and out of Gyorgyo at a leisurely pace. He may have been pent-up after a week of abstinence but it was clear he was enjoying himself. Gyorgyo could hear his bassy purr and how it rumbled through his body. The salve only numbed the painful stretch of the Lynel's massive member so Gyorgyo's body fit like a vice. He gave a subtle squeeze and the Lynel let out a bark of gratitude.

"Fuck," Gyorgyo whimpered, smothering his face in the fold of his arms. "Oh, Hylia, I'm so close--"

The Lynel gave a firm thrust so his cock punched right up into Gyorgyo's sweet spot. The Zora saw stars, the air knocked from his lungs. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the Lynel began to fuck him properly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--"

The already humid air grew heavier, punctuated by the wet lewd slapping of the Lynel's cock in and out of Gyorgyo's ass. He wished he could feel his heavy balls smacking up against him but the Lynel's cock had at least half a foot to it that Gyorgyo couldn't take safely.

The Lynel fucked him into the ground, lurching deep inside him on every thrust. Gyorgyo's vision went dark and blurry as he reached his peak and came, untouched. The Lynel gave a triumphant roar.

"Y-you... Y-you sss-smug little b-braggart." Gyorgyo huffed.

He laid there as the Lynel used him like a cocksleeve, pounding into him with a renewed fervor. Surprisingly, the Lynel didn't last much longer himself. He managed only a few more minutes of desperate thrusting before he came with a mighty bellow. Gyorgyo felt himself melt as he was pumped full of hot seed. The Lynel made sure to continue thrusting as he came to ensure his load was dumped entirely inside the little Zora's body.

After a few good minutes, the Lynel went soft. He drew out slowly and Gyorgyo could feel his cum leaking out of him. He collapsed, dimly aware as the Lynel stepped around him. He paused before settling down right beside Gyorgyo's limp form.

There was complete silence for long moment.

Gyorgyo tried not to jump as a clawed hand stroked down his head. He stayed still as the dead, eyes wide and unblinking.

The Lynel leaned over, snuffling and nuzzling down his head, along his shoulders, across his back. Without warning, he bit Gyorgyo, sinking his sharp teeth into his shoulder. Gyorgyo yelped, struggling on instinct. He couldn't budge an inch, the Lynel's maw like a steel trap. He finally released and Gyorgyo whipped around to face him. Something knowing and unspoken shone in the Lynel's sharp green eyes. They stared at each other for what felt like eternity until the Lynel finally moved to stand. He gave Gyorgyo one last glance before trotting away.

Gyorgyo watched him before scrambling to his feet. He gathered up his sheet and jogged back down the mountain. He only stopped when he hit the nearest waterfall, throwing down his things to wade into the basin. He hissed as the cool water stung his shoulder, blood leeching into the pool. Gyorgyo cleaned off the wound, examining it closely under a nearby torch. 

"He marked me," He whispered. Emotions warred in the pit of his belly; shock, horror, delight, fascination. "He... Claimed me."

Gyorgyo shuddered. He wrapped himself up in his sheet and slowly made his way back to Zora's Domain.

This would certainly make a new entry in his research.

[imfeelingprettylow]

So what if, instead of Adam telling Satan off, God shows up? Humor me for a second I probably am going to suck at this

The ground shook and Adam stood facing this massive beast, who was supposed to be his father. But he wasn't because

"Dads don't just show up after 11 years." As he had said. And it was looking like this very scary thing was going to pass. But Satan wasn't budging.

"So my son abandons me. And all that stand between me and the world is a couple of children, a former hellhound, a witch, two witchfinders, a whore, and two rebellious lovers. Seems God has chosen her champions. A pity. " as he was speaking he transformed, his massive self becoming smaller as he turned from horrifying into a vague humanoid shape. A pair of massive wings, much bigger than any angels, sprouted from human shoulders, and with a blink of the eye, a tall man stood before the lot. He was hard to focus on; immensely beautiful and terrifying to behold, with red eyes. Horrifying blood red eyes.

"So. I'm here. Standing before my son asking him to help me end this war once and for all. But where is your god? She sends you lot, with the hopes of what? You cannot save the world. She has abandoned you as she abandoned me." Satan's voice is heavenly and horrifying, a mixture of growling and celestial harmonies that has the hairs on Crowleys neck stand up. There is a flash of light and suddenly Gabriel is standing behind the group. Why God chose him to speak for her he will never know. He is absolutely terrified, as he walks forward to stand beside Adam

"The lord has spoken to me." Gabriel says, visibly shaking. There is a beat is silence. Satan raises one delicate eyebrow

"And?" He asks. Gabriel swallows the pump in his throat.

"She says to go back to the hole from whence you came." Even crowley, in his fit of terror had to smirk at that. Satan chuckles, his smile agonizing to behold

"And why does she not come to tell me herself? Ah, I know" Satan raises his face to the sky, eyes burning, massive wings opening "Because she isn't THERE "

In the next second two things happen. One, beezlebub appears beside their lord to inform him that hell is as it should be. Beezlebub fortunately appears beside Gabriel because they are afraid to approach their master from behind.

The second thing that happens is, God appears. One would expect a flash of light. And of course there is. But this light is so bright that aziraphale, in absolute terror, must unfurl his wings and moving with the speed of the angel he is, must gather Crowley and Adam to him, to protect them from God's wrath. Because God is pissed.

She appears, not as a human, but as a singular ball of floating light, smaller than a human head, burning with the rage of 6000 years. Aziraphales wings protect his demon and the boy from the full force of her might, and he manages to turn to face her. Beside him, Gabriel has done a miraculous and traitorous thing. In a pure act of kindness, without thinking, he has stepped in front of the Lord beezlebub to protect them from God's wrath. Beezlebub blinks at the feathery wall before them, surprised but unafraid. Aziraphale glances behind to see a singed, but very much alive crowley, covering Adam with his body, yellow eyes shut in terror. God hovers before satan, burning with rage and malice. All of this has happened within the span of two seconds.

"Hello Lucifer " God's voice is, well ineffable. Cannot be described. Crowley and beezlebub both cower in fear, hands over their ears in pain. Satan smirks, pleased with himself

"Hello mother." God's light hurts even the angels eyes. She glows brighter, annoyed

"You must go back into the hole, lucy." The old nickname makes Satan pause and suddenly both Gabriel and aziraphale notice pain; Satan's rage is as strong as God's and their wings become slightly singed. Crowleys head pops up as he recognizes that smell.

"All I ever wanted, mother, was to be loved." Crowley is looking back and forth between Satan and his angels wings. Beezlebub is now standing. Both demons know what they must do

"But you lOVED THEM MORE" the roar is accompanied by hellfire and Crowley launches himself in front of aziraphale, midnight wings open. Beezlebub has become a hoard of flies, and swirls around Gabriel protectivley. Both demons take the full force of the hellfire, as God simply casts it aside. Satan's great roar causes Gabriel to cry out in pain. And God pauses. She does not react to her son's temper tanrtrum. She dims. Crowley had begun to smoke in her presence, beezlebub literally dropping like flies. And God notices this, and pauses.

"My son. I wish not to fight. Neither of us can win this battle. So instead of arguing needlessly I am simply going to make you notice something." She turns to face the lot. Crowley is the one front and center. His love for aziraphale is all consuming as he stares at the Lord. He is not afraid, despite the pain he is in.

"Yes I've seen your champions mother. They are unimpressive." Satan's words cut deep and Gabriel cries out again. Aziraphale is trying to stand, but Adam pulls him down to keep him safe.

"My champions? Odd. I didn't choose any of them" God says. Satan scowls

"You choose evrything. You have had this plan since the beginning of time." He argues

"Well yes, I had hoped things would go this way. But I play with cards Lucy. Sometimes my design is less perfect and more..."

"Innefable." Crowley says, his face full of pain. God dims a bit, and moves closer.

"I think I've been quietly watching things from the sidelines too long. Of course I will continue to do so, for the humans sake. But for my angelic and demonic children, I think I let things go too far... You all are so ready to destroy what I so love." God seemed uoset, which is to say that her light went a little blue. Satan fumed

"Ah yes, the bloody humans. Those frail creatures you love more than your own children" Satan spat.

"Of course. I may have underestimated my children however." God said. "It seems to me that angels and demons are not so... binary in good and evil. It seems that given enough time and energy, they can be almost....human" God smiled at Crowley and he flinched. Aziraphale looked up and over one midnight wing at his lord, and slowly came around, despite Crowley and Adams concern.

"Oh, you mean these traitorous fools? I will not suffer them to live." In an instant there were flames engulfing them all.

Aziraphale thought he was dead. He hurt all over. His eyes were shut and he felt...peace. love. So much love. He opened his eyes to see a sky full of midnight wings.

Crowley wailed and grew to a height unimaginable, casting himself fully into the smiting flames of his master. And this act alone is what made him survive. Pure love. The flames hit him, with all the fury of hell, and he absorbed them, snarling, yellow eyes wide

"You will NOT take him from me!"

The flames engulfed him, and then they were beaten back by his wings, right into Satan himself.

Satan stumbled back, shaken but otherwise unharmed. The flames died down and Crowley lowered his wings, the air around him shimmering with heat.

"You will NOT take him from me." Crowley said again.

*authors note* if I screwed anything up please be kind but informative I didn't proof read this at all lol

UPDATE EVERYONE

Satan stood there dumbfounded for a singular second before his angelic face began to contort in rage. before satan could unleash his full fury on Crowley, however, God stepped between them.

“enough lucifer.” she said, and this time, crowley did not cringe. Aziraphale and Adam peeked out from behind him, and Beelzebub was themself again, standing beside gabriel. God cancelled out the pain around her, and faced off with her rebellious son 

“you are not seeing what you are meant to see. nor are you trying to understand. you are ignoring the reason this all had to happen. you are disappointing me lucy. again.” God was not angry, but she had begun to turn a rather peculiar shade of purple, that Gabriel recognized as disappointment and sorrow. And Satan recognized it too. He looked at crowley behind God, looked at Beelzebub beside Gabriel, looked at his own rebellious son, at the human children around them, and then finally his bloody gaze was upon his Mother. Satan glared, but behind his false anger was a sorrow and pain indescribable. 

“I just want to be loved.” he snarled. Crowley, in all his anger, could at least understand that. Aziraphale, behind him, felt that too and reached fro Crowleys hand, their fingers intertwining. God dimmed.

“you are, my dear boy. I love all my creations, even those that rebel against me. I have always loved you. Even this boy you spawned to destroy my humans, I love him as well. My love does not dwindle, nor does it become overruled by rage.” Adam, in surprise, looked at god and then at Satan. and then he walked right out and stood beside god , her light not harming him in the least.

“you shouldnt hate her so much.” adam said. satan regarded his son with suspicion. 

“your powers are great my boy, but not even you could change the reality of his heart.” Aziraphale said. “his hatred has darkened the love that used to be there.” God dimmed again, becoming more blue than purple

“I think youre wrong.” adam said “I think you havent given him a chance. I think, he let himself get upset and he wasnt thinking straight, and he hurt his friends and now, he doesnt know how to fix it.” adam was speaking from personal experience, and his friends smiled 

satan frowned at the boy 

“so what do you propose we do? we are mortal enemies.” he said, frustration showing. Adam turned to look at crowley and aziraphale, standing hand in hand 

“so were they. all it took for them was...well im not sure. i only just met them. but im sure if you ask them they can tell you.” all eyes turned on the pair, and defiantly they refused to let go of each other, though aziraphale was looking rather scarlet, from the singing hellfire or pure embarrassment, he would never tell. Crowley, tire iron still in hand, looked at his angel and pondered for a moment

“it took a second for me to love aziraphale. on the wall. when he showed his loyalty for humanity and disregard for the rules. it took 6000 years for me to admit that, just now.” Aziraphale looked at his demon in shock and then swallowed nervously 

“well I...I guess it was the books. I mean, I suppose I’d always been...fond of Crowley, I loved his company. I can always indulge and be...me. and then he saved my books for me and I guess I’ve been denying my love for him until...well a few minutes ago. But yes. We were mortal enemies, perhaps for a moment on the wall. But we have always been friends...and then some.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphales hand and smirked. Adam turned back to his satanic father 

“I bet you could learn to do that.” the boy said. Satan, however stood unconvinced 

“what? take a ball of light, the Almighty out to fish and chips? with humans? “ he scoffed. Gods light was now a pure amber color, a color of love and humor 

“I can take many forms, Lucy.” Was all she said. 

“Wait Wait Wait!” Gabriel said, striding forward, Beelzebub following quickly behind “disregarding all of that, I want to know how this is all supposed to play out. we are supposed to have a war! is that not happening?” God turned to her archangel, who promptly took a step back and swallowed in fear 

“there will be no war, my child. I will speak to the angels myself.”

“but you havent done that in...”

“too long, Gabriel. I have been absent for too long. Things are going to change in heaven. as for hell...” God turned to her satanic son, and his angelic face was full of conflict “I am always here for you, my dearest boy. Whenever you need me, ask. I have lots of work to do” God turned then to Crowley, Aziraphale and Adam

“you have all done so well, my children. I am so very proud.” and with that, she vanished, like fog vanishes on a windy day, and they were left there with satan, who was looking rather befuddled. 

“So the war is off, if my son still refuses to destroy humanity.” he looked down at adam, who looked almost bored

“I quite like humanity, thanks. feel free to stop by the wood sometime, if you ever want to play with Dog.” Satan stood straighter, and looked at Crowley

“and you? where do your allegiances lie now? with the angels?” 

“my allegiances have always been with Aziraphale.” the demon said very plainly. Aziraphale squeezed his hand tighter 

“fine. Lord Beelzebub?”

“I...” they looked at Gabriel “I am not sure, master. I think we have more troubling things at hand. the troops need some...alignment.” 

“well, let us go then. I see no more reason to stay. good riddance and all that.” Satan vanished by melting into the ground. Beelzebub spared Gabriel a glance before doing the same 

Gabriel let out the air he had been holding and glared at Aziraphale 

“I have to go. You and I are going to talk more about this after I...figure out what side im on.” his face fell in confusion before he dissipated as well. 

and so then there were three children, the former antichrist, two witchfinders, a witch, a whore, a former hellhound, and two ethereal beings. 

“so...now what?” Madam Tracy said “Ive seen god today. I dont think I can just go back to my flat.” 

“Well I for one have had enough occult presence today, thanks. Can we go home now ?” Pepper said. Adam smiled

“yeah I think im gonna go home. my dads here.” and sure enough, Adams human father was getting out of his car. Crowley, in a moment of exhaustion, wavered a bit, and Aziraphale caught him

“are you alright my dear?” he asked in concern. Crowley smiled, eyes shut in pure bliss 

“yes, angel, I am perfectly...tickety boo.”

*authors note* thanks for all the support!

[katieamazeballs]

A Bella bride.

Nikki Bella was joined by her fiancé Artem Chigvintsev on this week's brand new episode of The Bellas Podcast, and the professional dancer not only recounted the day the two welcomed their first child, Matteo Chigvintsev, but also gave a major update about their wedding plans (and how Matteo himself will be involved!).

As Total Bellas fans surely recall, Artem proposed to Nikki during their November 2019 trip to France, and in January 2020, the former WWE star announced she was pregnant. Then, of course, came the COVID-19 pandemic.

The worldwide shutdown thwarted any plans they may of had pre-coronavirus, and as the couple revealed on Wednesday, they'll continue to delay saying "I Do" until conditions improve.

The reveal came in response to a fan question about wedding details, and after Artem slyly teased that "you will found out more on Total Bellas," he added, "We're looking forward to it. We just want to make sure that, you know, it's not going to be plastic walls everywhere around every single person."

"At the end of the day, it's a celebration and not just a thing you attend for the sake of attending," Artem explained. "And both of us feel the same way about that. Once we can figure it out, what that would look like, I think it's going to start moving quickly."

As Nikki put it, she and her husband-to-be want their wedding guests "to bump and grind...not be six feet apart."

Plus, they'd love for Matteo to be involved somehow, and that's a little hard to do when he's barely a month old!

"It would be kind of awesome for him...[to be] present in a sense," Artem said, with Nikki suggesting they wait until Matteo could walk down the aisle.

"Well, walking down the aisle means it's gonna take a while," he responded.

"I don't know," Nikki told Artem. "The way he is, he might be walking...Brie and I walked at 9 months! He's crazy freakishly strong."

Perhaps a career in wrestling is in the cards? That could certainly be the case for Brie Bella and Daniel Bryan's (born Bryan Danielson) second child, Buddy Danielson, who was born just one day after Matteo.

"The fact that Matteo will have a best friend for the rest of his life—that's something that you don't get unless it's your legit blood brother," Artem expressed. "But that's the whole cherry on the cake, that they will have each other. They will hang out together and be best friends. Just having that in Matteo's life...like what's to come, I'm super excited, I'm super pumped for that."

Nikki echoed Artem's sentiment, saying that she's "so happy that Matteo will have, honestly, a twin brother for life."

"He'll always get to go through things with Buddy," she added, giving a shout-out to Brie and Bryan's daughter. "And to be honest, he has an older sister! Birdie's gonna keep these boys in check and I can't wait to watch it."

As for now, the couple noted that they're just enjoying their time at home with their son.

Born on July 31 after 20+ hours of labor—which Artem recalled in-detail on The Bellas Podcast—Matteo is already good at getting what he wants from his parents.

As his dad put it, "Trust me, when that bottom lip rumbles and the cry starts, you're just willing to do anything to stop that."

"And when I say anything to stop that, if someone would say, 'Chop your hand off,' you would chop your hand off," he said, laughing.

Nikki pointed out that Artem and Matteo quickly formed a strong bond, and that the newborn often falls asleep for hours on his chest.

"When people ask, 'How does it feel to be a dad?' Nothing I could've expected. It's better in such a different way," Artem expressed. "It's like unless you actually experience it, there's just no way you can explain with words."

Artem revealed that he cried when Matteo first entered the world: "He's crying, you can hear the first noise that he makes. Obviously, I got crazy emotional."

"[I] looked at Nicole, she had this massive relief like, 'Oh my god, this has actually happened,'" Artem said, also expressing how "proud" he was of his fiancée. "It did make me love Nicole more."

The family of three recently relocated to Los Angeles, where Artem is currently working on Dancing With the Stars.

His return to the show wasn't the only reason for the move from Phoenix, Arizona, though. According to the couple, there were a number of factors, including the weather in Arizona.

Hear what Artem had to say about the upcoming season of DWTS in addition to fatherhood, the hilarious "rehearsal" car ride he and Nikki did and more on the full episode of The Bellas Podcast.

[whumpqhs]

Whumptober alt #6: Lost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

"Looks like he's going to make it."

The words shouldn't have made her happy. Looking down at the guard as his eyes started to blink open, she should have felt like a failure, but the shame just wouldn't come. She shifted over a little so that, still kneeling at his side, she could ease one of his heavy arms over her shoulders. Across from her, another medic did the same. They counted together, and lifted together, voices in unison: "One, two, three." Suddenly the dead body on the floor was standing and stumbling, with a lot of help, over to the nearest medical bed. Assessing him and hanging his fluids from something other than her shoulder was a fantastic way not to have to think. She knew what to do for this patient, and right now, that was all that was important.

"We need labs. CBC, CMP, and troponin and creatinine levels. Whatever you have on the formulary for an NSAID, too, in case I'm right. Looks like an MI but we need the tests to know for sure..." She helped them as they repositioned him in bed, moving him up and covering him with blankets, giving orders as if she were still back home. He was hazy, out of it. She patted his shoulder. "We've got you, man, we're doing everything possible to help you. How's your pain?"

"Re... really bad..."

"Yeah? Like what number?" She looked across the bed to the one who'd been helping her lift and transfer. "Hey, I need morpha, and a syringe."

"Here."

The way they just handed it to her should've made her uneasy. It should've signaled something, the way they trusted her. It didn't. All it signaled in that moment was that she could help her patient not hurt so much. "Pushing two units and hanging the rest as a driver, as soon as I draw off these labs—you got vials?"

"Here."

“Thanks. They don’t let me put stuff in my pockets… I don’t even know if I can chart on him, he’s a guard.”

“I’ll get it. Next time, we’ll trade, and I’ll be on his IV side, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Next time.

The effect was almost instantaneous: as she pushed the first dose, her patient started to relax, settling down. His heart rate dropped into normal limits. Sonora couldn’t contain a smile as she hung the remainder of the syringe and keyed the flow rate into his IV pump. Her mind was calm and, despite her moral objections, awash with the familiar, soft, effervescent feeling of a good code winding down. Stepping away to scrub out brought her right in front of Keeper, and she expected some kind of harsh correction as he reached toward her.

His hand settled on her shoulder, soft pressure, no pain. “Good job, Epi.”

Epi.

This was bad.

But it didn’t feel bad… it felt good. She felt like she was flying, veins rushing with adrenaline, like she was doing what she was always meant to do. Who cared about a guard? He’d finish his career in this place, especially after what looked like a massive heart attack. That was a life, wasn’t it? She saved a life.

A Republic life.

Who was he before he was a prison guard? Did he see active duty? Did he kill Imperials, like her? Whose revenge could it have been if she’d let him go? But even as they walked her down to the break room and let her get crappy junk food out of the vending machine, like a real person, she couldn’t make herself feel bad. Bad wasn’t the right word. Even later, when it started to change from a good feeling to a bad one, it wasn’t guilt that crept in. It wasn’t shame, either; it was something cold and empty.

Loneliness. She’d never felt so far from other people, so directionless and utterly lost. Who was she? She couldn’t be Republic. She couldn’t bring herself to defect, not even after saving one of theirs. Was she really Imperial anymore, after today? Did living here as a prisoner count as being under duress? Even if it did count, would Intelligence believe her that she hadn’t wanted to do it? Would they believe her when she said she regretted those compressions? How could they, when she didn’t even believe the words herself? She walked to the door of her cell and knocked, determined to get her mind off of this.

“Yeah?” It was one of the other medics this time, not a guard or an SIS agent. She recognized him: he’d been in on the code. Perfect.

“I forgot to chart something. Can I borrow a datapad?” “Forgot” was the pleasant word for how Keeper had dragged her off the floor and insisted on her getting some rest. Although, she’d slept another ten hours after he forced her to drop her charting and go, so she had to admit he was a little bit right.

“I have to watch you,” he warned.

“Yeah, of course.” She nodded, and took it when it was handed over. But as she settled down, she noticed that he wasn’t insisting on being able to see the screen. She typed in the guard’s name from before, and sighed dramatically at the lockout screen that popped up.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know. Access denied, all that. This is so frustrating, I forgot to get any of my documentation in… and now…”

“Here, let me see.” She handed it over to him, watching as he typed in some kind of override code and passed it back. “There you go, should work fine now.”

The guard’s chart came up without a problem. She grinned. “Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Unfortunately, charting didn’t take that long, and the loneliness came right back as soon as her mind was free. She signed off on the note, checked the lab values—the most recent round wasn’t back yet, but the initial set pointed to cardiac arrest—and was about to log out and hand it back when she noticed the treatment team listed.

Her name was there, but so were his nurses from the previous shift… his attending provider… and Keeper’s face, next to his designation, Rongeur, and a string of abbreviations. She clicked on it, and his file opened up instead. It took a lot of restraint not to gasp. Sonora carefully scrolled down, looking through the notes, commendations, letters. It all looked regular, legitimate… seamless. A little too seamless. She finally found the clue under his history, in a list of previous meds.

Dimallium 6. 

Sonora frowned. Only one use for that: Castellan restraints. Conditioning. She paused, reaching out to touch the word with a fingertip. When she did, a dialogue box popped up.

Open previous encounter for this med?

She hesitated at first, but then reached out again, tapping the screen.

Yes.

Enter override code:_____________

Sonora frowned, then looked up and took a chance. “Hey, can you put that code in again? It won’t let me in the MAR.”

For one terrifying moment, as she handed him the datapad and let him put in the code, she realized what a terrible mistake she’d made. It could all be over, her entire life, and for what?—to look up his records? Why, when he was the enemy?

...but was he really the enemy? She had to know.

“Here, should work, it looked like it took the code.” She had to stifle a sigh of relief as he handed it back without really looking.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“I thought I saw the dose in the MAR already,” he said.

“I charted against the override. Had to fix it.”

A little sound of acknowledgement and a half-said “Ah yeah that’s annoying” was the extent of his protest. She peered into the encounter, eyes scanning, fingertips tapping to make it look like she was working on the MAR. But when she finally found the notes from the conditioning, her hand slowed. The notes were in reverse order, working backwards into the past with the most recent ones first: progress updates following his rehabilitation, implantation of new memories… and down at the bottom, she found a brief AAR about his capture… but nothing about him defecting. Frowning, Sonora worked back up from the AAR, going over everything again. Had she missed one?

She finally found the answer that she was terrified of, in the transcript from his last interrogation.

---

SIS: Last chance, Vael. You can tell us everything you know, or we’ll start cutting off fingers.

PRISONER: Do it. I don’t care.

SIS: You know you’re the sole survivor, right? All the other agents, they’re gone.

PRISONER: Like I believe that.

[Electroshock applied. Several deep cuts made to abdomen. No new information.]

SIS: What’s so special about them that you won’t talk? Even when you’re here for life, even with them dead?

PRISONER: That’s… my team… I’m… the medic… gotta take care of them.

SIS: They’re gone, Vael! They’re dead. What’s stopping you?

PRISONER: Because… th-they’re my… family. I love… them… and even... even if they’re gone, I... I... I’m not gonna l-let them down.

SIS: Oh, you’re gonna let them down, Vael. You just don’t know it yet.

[Session terminated. Will begin selective treatment with dimallium immediately. Keyword to reverse conditioning in case of emergency: Aurek Five System Yellow Seventeen.]

---

For a little while, she sat quietly, rereading the note. Then rereading it again. Memorizing the code. Finally, she backed out of the chart and handed it to the man at the door. 

“Hey, it freaked out on me or something. Started opening a bunch of other pages, I had to shut it off. I’ll finish charting tomorrow.”

He nodded, tucking the datapad away as she turned back to her bed, stretching out. As she drifted to sleep, the words from the code echoed in her mind:

What could I have done to save one of mine?

[infiniteshawn]

Heat | Werewolf!Shawn AU

warning: 2.8k of filthy, filthy smut

You groaned at the sight of your blank phone screen, foot tapping in anticipation of when you’d hear from Shawn next.

It only took a few days into your relationship to discover he was a werewolf. Though he didn’t flaunt it like the others you’d encountered, he had a lovely habit of purring whenever you came into physical contact with him and it was pretty obvious right away. It was sweet and reassuring, and was only one of the wolfly characteristics that left you weak in the knees for him.

New to the whole wolf thing, you also discovered that he’d go into the occasional heat. He explained that he’d lock himself away in his house and avoid others at all costs because he wasn’t able to "control himself.” Around you, in particular. Though it left him passionate and lustful, he deemed it dangerous due to how rough he could get, so he swore to stay away from you until his heat ended.

It was day six, and you were dying to know when this would be over.

He wasn’t holding back via text message, though. Shawn had been sending constant updates on how he was feeling or what he was doing, mainly because he was bored, but a part of you believed it was to sexually torture you. Constant vivid descriptions of what he wanted to do to you or what he wanted you to do to him would come rolling in, leaving you hot and bothered and totally frustrated. He was out of reach, and he’d warned you beforehand not to entertain his behaviour because he was too weak and likely to give in. It was far too dangerous.

The sun wished you a good night as it dipped beneath the horizon, leaving you alone in the darkness of your living room. You set your feet up on the coffee table, stretching your limbs with a groan of exhaustion. The cold days seemed to be stretching on forever, leaving you tumbling along in the wake of exams and eating properly and getting enough sleep. It didn’t help that Shawn wasn’t around to keep you company.

You tilted your heavy head back against the couch, tasting the strawberry-flavoured chapstick coating your lips as you gave them a quick lick. A deep exhale left your chest as your eyes fluttered shut, breath slowing as you took a moment to relax in the blackness of your empty home. You had barely drifted off before your phone was blaring its default ringtone, snapping you out of your trance and bringing you back to reality.

The bright screen blinded you momentarily, causing you to hesitate before observing your boyfriend’s face staring back at you. Shawn hadn’t called in the entire six days he’d been away, and you worried that the sound of your voice might set him off. Your head told you not to take the call, but your heart was more powerful. Always.

“Shawn?” you answered, panicking a little at the sound of heavy breathing on the other end of the line. “Shawn, are you okay?”

“Hey,” he spoke, a smirk evident in his tone. This couldn’t be good.

“Uh, hey,” you spoke flatly, crossing your legs and leaning forward on the couch cushion. “What’s up?”

“Mm, nothin’,” he lied. “Just wanted to hear your voice is all.”

“Oh,” you smiled, heart warming at his blunt softness. Such a puppy. “I miss you.”

“Miss you more,” he exhaled, seemingly out of breath.

“Hun, are you tired? W-what have you been up to?” you asked quizzically, leaning sideways to turn a lamp on.

“Oh, me? Nothing, babe. I’m pacing,” he said flatly, leaving an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“How’ve you been, love? Haven’t heard from you in a bit,” you bit your nail, nerves pulsing with anxiety as you tried to keep things tame.

“Been missin’ you,” he stated with a little growl. It was a sound all too familiar to you, a sound he only made when he was desperate and needy.

“Shawn, you shouldn’t have called me,” you responded, picking at your chipped nail polish as you awaited his response.

“Don’t hang up,” he spat as goosebumps spread across your arms. “M’not done.”

The line was silent for a few seconds, the dead air only being filled by Shawn’s heavy breathing and the static of the poor connection.

You sucked in a breath, finally speaking, “I’m still here.”

“Good, babe. I just, I needed to hear you. Been away from you so long, and you know how it is,” he breathed, “how I need you. It’s been torturous, not being able to--feel you.”

You gulped, unsure of where he was going with this but resisting all the signs telling you to stop.

“Yeah? Feeling’s mutual, I can assure you.” you cooed, leaning back against the cushions.

“Fuck, yes,” he answered, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“What about me, baby?” you giggled, heat already beginning to rush between your legs at the sound of his desperation.

“Your lips,” he breathed, “and the way they work against mine. You continue to nip and suck at my mouth even though I’m the wolf here, and god, does it ever get me going.”

You let out a laugh, tongue darting out of your pout to taste your chapstick once again.

“And the way they fit so perfectly around my cock, Jesus, babe,” he said lowly, “Mouth was fuckin’ made for me.”

A blush was rising in your cheeks as you brought a hand to your lips, running your fingers over the mouth he spoke so highly of.

“What else?” you encouraged.

“Miss kissin’ your neck, and sucking on the insides of your thighs. Just you wait, babe,” he growled, “Just you fuckin’ wait until I can have my hands on you. Your hands, they’re the devil. My god, I want them all over me, all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, babe. Want your fingers wrapped around my cock while you pump it, your slick pussy sliding back and forth on my thigh. Want you gripping and scratching at my back while I pound your pretty little cunt. Wanna make you scream for me.”

Your jaw had dropped at this point, core throbbing at the thought of having this again with Shawn.

“Bet you’re hard for me, thinking about those things,” you spoke lowly, knowing the risk you posed but blatantly not caring.

He gulped, clearly caught off guard by your dominance and cooperation, having expected you to have hung up the phone minutes prior.

“So hard for you, baby,” he grinned, fighting the urge to palm his bulge in his tight jeans. “Always hard for you.”

“I’m soaked, Shawn,” you breathed, a sly grin gracing your lips as you imagined his reaction.

“Oh m-, fuck,” he grunted, and you imagined him running a hand through his mess of fluffy curls in sexual frustration. He did this a lot, usually when you were out in public and he needed you, needed to feel your snug walls wrapped around his thick cock.

“What is it?” you teased, softly massaging your heated core through the fabric of your sweatpants.

“Need to fuck you,” he panted, a rattling sound audible through the fuzz.

“What’s that noise?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, my keys,” he answered, stumbling on his words a little.

“Shawn? Are you home?” you worried.

“Yeah,” he answered a little too quickly.

“Why are you holding your keys in the house, then?” you questioned.

“Was, uh, putting them on the hook, they were on the kitchen table,” he panted, trying not to sound too suspicious, but you were onto him.

“Okay,” you agreed.

“Hm,” he cleared his throat.

“Nice night out, eh?” you asked, testing the waters.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. Chilly, but crisp.”

“Caught you! Shawn, where are you? Why did you leave the house?” you panicked, now on your feet as you began to pace around your coffee table.

“Nowhere, babe, don’t worry about it,” he reassured, but you weren’t having it.

“No, Shawn, you told me you’d have to stay in and that you were dangerous and I’ve been sitting here without you, what’s going on?” you asked a little frantically, wondering if he was messing around or if someone was going to get hurt.

“Babe, babe, calm down,” he spoke, out of breath. “Open your front door.”

Chills ran up your spine as you wondered what would happen next. Would he be violent? Was he angry? Was he done? You quickly shuffled to your front door, glancing at him through the side window to notice his sweaty state. He ran here, and that’s why he’d been panting.

You took a breath and swung the door open, expecting to give him a hug but being taken aback when he shoved his way through the door and had you pinned against the back of it.

“Hi,” he breathed, his lips a mere inch from yours.

“H-hi,” you responded shakily. His face fell.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared,” he whispered, leaning forward to plant a quick peck on your lips. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never. My heat’s over.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, realizing he was safe to be around and you could once again have your way with him. Your small hands reached for his hips, pulling his torso flush against yours. His pants were already tight at the crotch.

“Mhm,” he hummed, dipping his head down to assault your neck with wet kisses.

You let out a deep groan, sneaking your fingers under the hem of his shirt and raking your nails up his soft sides.

“Shawn, please,” you whimpered as he parted from your chest and allowed the long-sleeved shirt to slip over his shoulders and be discarded on the hardwood floor.

“Mm, need, you,” he spoke between kisses to your lips, reaching for your ass as you wrapped your legs around his middle and prepared for him to climb the steps. Your arms were wrapped around his thick neck as he ascended the stairs without breaking the kiss. His chest rumbled with deep purrs, vibrating against yours as he entered your bedroom and plopped you down on the mattress.

“Clothes off,” he grunted, unbuckling his jeans and kicking them away while he tried his best to peel your sweats from your thighs. You wiggled out of your clothing, discarding all undergarments and laying beneath him in your naked glory.

“Baby, my god,” he breathed, wrapping a hand around his erect cock as he tried to contain his composure.

You giggled, “What is it?”

“Fuck, need you,” he growled, “Need to fuck you.”

Suddenly, he brought a massive hand down on your thigh, a loud smack echoing in your ears.

“On your knees,” he snapped, earning a squeal of excitement from you as you flipped over and knelt on the mattress, supporting yourself with your elbows.

“My favourite view,” he chuckled, kneading your ass cheeks with his strong hands. You could feel his erection brushing against your skin, so you pushed back on your knees a bit in hopes of getting access to more of him.

“That what you want, princess?” he teased, tapping your ass with the head of his cock. “Yeah? Beg for it.”

You moaned at the thought, tilting your head to look back at him. He was standing at the edge of the bed, leaning over you slightly. His hard cock was in his massive hand and he was slick with sweat, heaving chest and neck pink with flush.

“I fuckin’ said beg,” he said firmly, bringing a hand down on one of your ass cheeks, the sting causing you to whimper.

“P-please, please Shawn,” you repeated.

“Please what?“

“Please, just fuck me!” you exclaimed, your wetness pooling in your core and threatening to drip down your thighs.

“S’what I thought,” he growled, pulling your hips toward him as he teased your slick folds with his rosy tip. You moaned at the contact, aching to feel him fill you out as he slid the head of his cock along your slit. Without warning, he brought his hand down on your ass once again and pushed into you, slipping between your snug walls and filling you out.

“Fuck!” you breathed, trying to keep from squirming as you adjusted to his size.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” he muttered, soothing the hot skin of your ass with his calloused hand.

You groaned again as he pushed into you completely, the pain quickly subsiding and fading into pleasure. “More, Shawn.”

He got the message and began thrusting into you roughly, balls slapping against the back of your thigh with each soft growl he let out. You could feel a bead of sweat drip onto your back as he rolled his hips toward your ass and his forearm wrapped around your middle, pulling you flush against his front.

You were a moaning mess, whimpering and groaning for more and to go harder. He was growling in your ear, nipping at your shoulders roughly to keep from exploding right there.

“You like that, sweetheart? You like takin’ my whole cock?” he grunted in your ear, coursing a wave of pleasure through your veins as your stomach twirled in response to his words.

You tried to reply but were unsuccessful, only able to release a string of moans and whimpers. He chuckled in your ear, grabbing a handful of your ass before smacking it, hard.

“Shawn, fuck, missed you,” was all you could seem to get out, reveling in the feeling of his clammy skin slapping against yours.

“Fuck, babe, ah,” he grunted, sinking his cock between your slick folds as deep growls rumbled from his chest. He soon backed up a bit, only fucking you with his tip and causing you to squirm.

It was teasing yet fulfilling, leaving you hungry for more yet allowing you to enjoy the firmness of his slick tip dipping into your soaked core. It was like an itch that was finally being scratched, something only Shawn could do.

“Not gonna, not gonna fuckin’ last,” he panted, hips ramming against your ass cheeks as he growled violently behind you. You were at a loss for words, ultimately aroused by his wolfly tendencies and the way he lost himself in fucking you. It was a skin-slapping mess as he fucked you rapidly and ruthlessly, and you were sure you’d be sore and potentially unable to walk the following morning.

“Fuck, Shawn, more,” you panted, pushing back against his length as he moved his hands from your middle to your aching pussy.

His fingers danced over your clit rapidly as he rammed his cock into you, overwhelming your senses as your knees gave out and your body began to fall. His other hand moved to your middle, pulling your hips up to meet his as he fucked you senseless.

“Shawn, fuck, close,” you whimpered as he flicked your clit in small, concentrated circles. His grunts and growls shot adrenaline through your veins as you were positive he was on the edge, too, and you wanted nothing more than to hear the sweet sounds of him coming undone.

“Come for me, Shawn,” you mewled, reaching back to thread your fingers through his curls.

“Come with me,” he panted, flicking your clit a few more times before you unraveled beneath him. You cried out in pleasure, pussy clenching around his hardened length as he pumped hot spurts of liquid from his throbbing cock. A low growl accompanied his rough thrusts as you collapsed onto your stomach, allowing his cock to slip out of you as he came down from his high.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, falling beside you and wrapping a heavy leg around yours, pulling you against his chest. “Missed that.”

“Shawn,” you mumbled, collecting yourself and trying to ignore the aching throb between your thighs. “That was unreal. It’s never been like that.”

He chuckled in response, pulling you tighter. “I’m sorry, it’s because of the last few days. I’m kind of… an actual animal. Just gotta remember to be gentle with my human.”

You smiled as your heart swelled at his words. “Your human.”

You nuzzled his chest with your nose, feeling the soft hairs against your face as something else began tickling you. A soft hum filled your ears as his chest began to vibrate, the familiar purr encompassing you.

“That’s it baby, purr for me, harder, yeah,” you mockingly fake-moaned, trying not to laugh.

“You’re a sicko,” he giggled with a shake of his head, but his purrs never faltered.

“Your sicko,” you stated, planting a wet kiss on his chest.

“My sicko,” he grinned, kissing the top of your head and shifting against you, his purring slowly fading to gentle snores.

@ffsshawn

[eggoreviews]

My Top 15 Bosses in Games

Bosses are fun and great, most of the time. And often, they can make or break a game for me, which means my favourite games often have the most entertaining, impactful boss battles with high emotional stakes or just pure spectacle. Because I couldn’t pick just 10, here’s my top 15 bosses that really left a mark on me. Enjoy!

This list is probably gonna be a little weird, because it’s purely my opinion. Also, spoilers below for all the games I mention.

15. Donkey Kong (Super Mario Odyssey)

Admittedly, this is stretching the definition of the term ‘boss’, but if DK from back in the 80s can be counted as a boss, then so can this. For me, this was the best moment in all of Odyssey, which in itself seemed to be a love letter to the legacy of both 2D and 3D Mario. This retro throwback, complete with the classic 2D run-and-jump platforming from the original Donkey Kong, is amazing with the huge Metro Kingdom festival in the background and the soaring Jump Up, Superstar accompanying it. This seamless marrying of old and new proved to be my favourite part of this game, and made Odyssey one of my favourite platformers in general.

14. Void Termina (Kirby Star Allies)

I know this is a really unpopular opinion, but I personally loved Kirby Star Allies for a lot of reasons. I loved the graphics, the characters, the smooth, simple and fun gameplay, how polished and unique each section of the game was, not least the huge space section at the game’s conclusion and of course the free updates adding a wealth of new content and characters. And at the very end, you take on this thing, Void Termina, in a massive space arena. Above everything else, this is just dizzy, colourful fun and is a great culmination of everything the game’s been building up to since the first level. You spend the fight switching between firing wildly at Void Termina from your rainbow ship thing and fighting parts of the monster from the inside. As I’ve said, this made for a satisfying conclusion to an amazing platformer for me and more than earns its spot on my list.

13. Mirelurk Queen (Fallout 4)

I remember the pure shock I felt for a hot second the moment the Mirelurk Queen decided to rear its head for the first time. For the record, I’m talking specifically about the Queen that shows up when taking the Castle for the Minutemen. Seeing this hulking thing looming even above the castle walls is something that genuinely intimidated me, especially as early into my playthrough as I was, and it took a lot of my supplies (and a lot of attempts) to finally pump enough bullets into it to kill it. The frantic panic of sprinting around the ruins of the Castle trying to avoid the giant Mirelurk’s blasts of acid and keeping enough distance to stay safe balanced a good amount of difficulty with spectacle and stayed with me long after I put the game down.

12. Griffin (The Witcher III: Wild Hunt)

I’ve made it clear on my blog before that I didn’t have a standout experience with The Witcher III as a whole, but to say it didn’t have some spectacular moments is pretty much an insult. In particular, Geralt’s first throwdown with the massive griffin terrorising White Orchard was a brilliantly intense and strategic fight that greatly utilised the game’s smooth combat system and made full use of Geralt’s many abilities. I find that the game really shone most of all while in combat, maintaining a great level of intensity with balanced difficulty and a soaring soundtrack that always makes the battle experience even more memorable. Plus, look how awesome this thing looks.

11. El Luchador (Rayman Legends)

The end boss of a world in my favourite platformer of all time based entirely on the Mexican tradition of the Day of the Dead, this particular boss fight encapsulates everything I adore about this game. Fun, tight platforming, colourful and memorable design, a great soundtrack and controls that function perfectly. You spend this boss fight finding new and creative ways to bounce on this giant wrestler’s head in front of an audience of cheering skeletons as the manic soundtrack intensifies with each round of the fight. This fight, and this entire game, combines fun and creativity masterfully and I’d urge basically anyone to play it.

10. The Archdemon (Dragon Age: Origins)

Part of what makes the climactic battle with the Archdemon so memorable is how perfectly the game pulls off the intense build-up that lasts the entire plot and then still delivers an epic payoff. The Archdemon is almost straight away set up as a genuine threat that looms over everything you do in Origins and the success of your eventual showdown with the Archdemon is based entirely on your strategies and choices throughout the game. Who you manage to recruit, what races you have fighting on your side and, most importantly, which companions you take with you into the finale will all have a huge impact on your fight. And oh boy, the Archdemon is just as hulking and terrifying when you finally get to take him on. This fight is probably the most universally recognised great on my list and still stands out as one of the best RPG finales to date.

9. Marguerite (Resident Evil VII: Biohazard)

Resident Evil 7 is a truly terrifying, if fairly brief, foray into horror that Capcom haven’t quite managed since the series’ fourth entry. And I felt that the main fight with the Baker family’s deranged mother Marguerite deserves a place on this list for the raw terror it creates alone. Just when you think you’re getting used to the horrors of the Baker estate, the game ushers you into a claustrophobic greenhouse and locks the door behind you. After a jumpscare that will make you lose your shit, you’ve got to somehow dispatch this horrifying, unhinged bug woman who’s screaming obscenities and crawling on the walls and ceilings to pounce on you and spawning endless poisonous insects from the weird egg sac between her legs. As if that wasn’t awful enough, most of the time, you don’t even know where the hell she is, as she has a rather unsavory habit of crawling off into little alcoves and into walls, out of your sight, so you’re forced to frantically search around in the darkness in an attempt to spot her before she jumps on you. No other boss fight has elicited this kind of fear from me, so on that merit alone, it’s earned its spot.

8. Daud (Dishonored)

The climactic clash with the man that killed your character’s love interest, the empress, and was directly involved in framing you for her murder is just as brilliantly satisfying as you’d expect. For the first time in the game, the protector turned assassin Corvo is finally forced to take on someone who can wield the same supernatural powers he can, which makes a battle with high emotional stakes that really allows you to see the glaring similarities between Corvo and Daud. On top of this, with Daud being voiced by Michael Madsen, his provocative, yet thoughtful dialogue throughout the battle makes you think while you fight and gives you a much deeper insight into Daud’s character and helps you decide whether you’ll choose to show him mercy or not, especially during his eloquent plea for mercy at the fight’s end. As for the fight itself, it’s fast-paced and intense, while encouraging you to make full use of Corvo’s arsenal of weapons and powers to beat him back. But most impressive is the sheer difference in experience depending on whether you’ve chosen the path of merciful low chaos or murderous high chaos throughout the game, with Daud in low chaos being much more willing to offer a fair fight rather than sending his goons out after you. In a game full of changes to the world and story depending on your choices, some huge and some extremely subtle, this fight with the empress’ assassin is a truly standout moment in a brilliant game. Oh, and if you end up playing the DLCs where you take control of Daud, another emotional layer is added when you realise just how much Daud has done to save the empress’ daughter, even when on the surface he seems to be just another of Dishonored’s many despicable villains.

7. Stained Glass Demon (MediEvil: Resurrection)

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a huge MediEvil fan, specifically the oddly maligned PSP version that I personally think is amazing. For me, this charmingly gothic action platformer has a hell of a lot of high points, but the fight early on the game with the Stained Glass Demon in particular is as cool as it sounds. The game totally embraces its gothic atmosphere in this section, with the protagonist Sir Daniel Fortesque being trapped within a textbook creepy mausoleum full of undead things, and something in the giant stained glass window that seems to be very alive. Eventually fighting this thing really tests you on what you’ve learned up to this point, meaning that full use of the weapons you’ve gathered is basically essential if you want to beat this weird demon that uses glass as its main attack. By merit of how uniquely amazing this boss fight is, as well as the game it hails from, this particular demon is one of my absolute favourite boss fights.

6. David (The Last of Us)

While this isn’t a boss fight in the traditional sense, it is a gritty, tense face off with the game’s only real central villain. You play as the hardened but still terrified Ellie as you carefully navigate a restaurant while David searches for you with very murderous intent, his monologues only serving to make the experience even more chilling. With each strategic hit you manage to land, David becomes more and more enraged, searching the restaurant with more fervor with each hit you deal, eventually setting the building on fire. The tension that’s been building through the whole encounter reaches boiling point as you watch the fire slowly begin to envelop the whole room and Ellie finally catches him offguard long enough to brutally kill the deranged man with his own machete. Everybody knows how amazing this game is, and this unorthodox fight in particular stood out as a great character display and a masterclass in building tension, to only then be immediately followed by Joel and Ellie’s emotional reunion that definitely tugs at your emotions. The Last of Us has always been a must-play and this moment serves as one of many reminders that it definitely still is.

5. Xaldin (Kingdom Hearts II)

Probably the hardest boss fight on this list and also that I’ve ever had to do in general (yes that means I’ve never played Dark Souls), I initially wrote this whole fight off as total bullshit, as I figured there was no way outside of blind luck to finish this with any sort of skill. And admittedly, luck is a factor here, with Xaldin’s constant and dizzying attacks taking a hell of a long time to work out the patterns for than most other fights in the game. He’s pretty much constantly in your face, knocking off huge chunks of your health bar in one go, so it quickly becomes a mad dash for survival as you run around the castle courtyard trying desperately to find an opening. One thing I’ve always loved about Kingdom Hearts, despite how needlessly complicated most of its entire concept is, is the consistently smooth, fun combat system, that allows for many different styles of play and rewards experimentation with different abilities and magic. Nowhere does this come out more in one of the game’s many creative boss fights, most notably for me the clash with this particular member of Organization 13.

4. Morag (Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Skies)

This is probably my weirdest pick on the list, as in reality Morag is a fairly inconsequential boss fight in a game that most people regard as one of the worst in the Dragon Quest series. But DQ9 is one of my absolute favourite games of all time, and this boss fight in particular is tied to one of the most emotionally charged storylines I’ve experienced in an RPG. Towards the start of the game, you’re tasked with killing the Wight Knight, a supposedly evil knight that’s been terrorising a local town, specifically the town’s princess. Upon beating him, you discover that he was cursed by the witch Morag to remain with her in the ruined town of Brigadoom after falling in love with him. The princess that the knight had fallen for died in the intervening 500 years, leading his grief to cloud his judgment and he began to pursue the princess of a different town that looked almost exactly like her. In order to put his spirit to rest, the princess of the town realises who and what the knight is, and comes to Brigadoom to give him the dance he never got to have with the woman he knew 500 years ago. Okay, might be a little cliche, but this really oofed me and I thought this whole plotline was brilliantly executed, much like every other emotional moment that this game is packed with. As a whole, this boss fight, while inconsequential, is intrinsically linked to a heavily emotional subplot and is a hidden gem in an often overlooked, but amazing RPG.

3. Goro Akechi (Persona 5)

I almost gave this spot to the ever satisfying takedown of Kamoshida, but this fight just beats him out for pure emotional stakes alone. Goro Akechi is a tragic character who was horribly mistreated throughout much of his life, but at some point in his life, he made a conscious choice to become what he was. While the phantom thieves sympathise with his plight and the people that aided in him becoming the murderer that he was, they know they can’t get through to him and their only choice is to fight him off. The boss fight itself is suitably epic, with the now clearly unhinged Akechi throwing his full might at your party, but there’s still a part of you that doesn’t want to keep fighting. And that’s what makes this whole section so interesting, as your main character begins to understand that Akechi in reality is a twisted reflection of the thieves and what they could very easily become should they lose their way. And Akechi’s eventual realisation that this is the case then prompts him to make the ultimate sacrifice in the end, as his loyalties waver when he realises his father never planned to keep him around anyway. There’s a lot to unpack in this particular fight and has a lot more emotional layering to it than most other fights in the game, and it’s very rare to say that about any boss fight. Persona 5 is a spectacular experience from start to end and the effect Akechi’s final stand had was one of its most memorable moments.

2. Asriel Dreemurr (Undertale)

A once underrated indie gem that has since basically become a gaming icon in the years since, how much I absolutely love Undertale still hasn’t wavered. And in a game with a wonderfully creative combat system and therefore full of great bosses, the pacifist route’s final fight takes the crown for me. It’s the perfect culmination of everything you’ve experienced throughout Undertale, giving you a brilliant soundtrack and the opportunity to save each and everyone of the friends you’ve made along the way, followed by Asriel himself. The story of Asriel and the first human who fell into the underground is a deeply tragic one, and Asriel himself is a character stricken with grief that has distorted into anger and an obsessive desire to wield godlike power and all of this combines to make you really feel for who you’re fighting, which makes it all the more satisfying to help him come to his senses at the very end. This incredibly intense, but endlessly satisfying battle ends off with an emotional sequence of the real Asriel realising the hate in his actions and redeeming his actions by opening the barrier while he’s still himself to let monsters go free. This ending gets me everytime and there’s some wonderful themes buried in here somewhere, so the significance of this particular character and his final showdown can’t be understated.

Before I cry talking about my top pick, here’s (a lot) more I really love:

Master Hand (Super Smash Bros. series)

Lord Fredrik (Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze)

Yuga (The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds)

Yellow Devil (Mega Man)

Gohma (The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time)

Delilah Copperspoon (Dishonored 2)

Xion (Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days)

Bebuzzu (Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo Tales)

Zinyak (Saints Row IV)

Alduin (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

Bowser (Super Mario Bros. 3)

1. Calamity Ganon/Dark Beast Ganon (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

It probably stands to reason that my favourite boss fight came out of my favourite game. Much like the rest of Breath of the Wild, this finale left a huge impact on me and I absolutely adored all of it. After fighting your way through the ruined Hyrule Castle (which, as a sidenote, is also awesome), you finally see the horrible monstrosity you’ve been building up to fighting for the entire game and it looks as freaky as it should. Before the fight kicks off, each champion you’ve rescued makes a cameo to help you out and then, you’ve got to fend for yourself. This spectacular boss fight does everything a boss should do; it tests you on everything you’ve learned and gathered throughout the entire game, maintains a great level of emotional stakes and, most importantly, gives you a fitting finale to arguably the best adventure game ever made. Everything is topped off with a horseback battle with a giant creature form of Ganon that covers the whole of Hyrule Field (which at that point, honestly does intimidate you) in one final push to seal Ganon away. You truly feel that this is what your grand adventure has been leading up to and the sense of genuine accomplishment you feel when Ganon falls and Link finally reunites with Zelda in real life after spending all this time regaining his treasured memories of her combines that sense of accomplishment with vast emotional depth. Everything about Breath of the Wild absolutely blew me away and this wonderful ending really could not have been better. The long awaited final battle against Ganon, after experiencing everything that happened to Link and the champions after losing so tragically to Ganon a century ago, as well as the brilliantly handled subtle romance between Link and Zelda, makes this my absolute favourite boss fight, and game ending in general, of all time.

So that’s my list! Hope you agreed with at least some of my picks, or at the very least could sort of see where I was coming from. Got any great boss fights of your own that top your list? Let me know! And big thank you for reading. Have a gr8 day.

[kpopafterhour]

Hoseok’s Favorite Kind of Ride

This is part of the BTS Smut Club Writing Project!

Prompt #23 ~ “That roller coaster looks like a death trap, let’s ride it!”

NSFW 18+

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Summary: You convince your terrified boyfriend to ride the scariest roller coaster at the park, but when the ride shuts down with the two of you on it you have to find a way to distract him. Don’t ask why I can’t write smut with any decent plot

Word Count: 2.8K+

Warnings: Handjob, blowjob, choking kink, fingering

You skipped alongside your boyfriend, Hoseok, happy that the two of you could spend a day together in between all of his rehearsals and interviews.

“So what do you want to do?” You looked around at the amusement park, enjoying the smell of cotton candy and popcorn and not even minding the sound of scream children as they raced by.

Hoseok smiled contentedly, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I’ll do whatever you want to, angel.”

You smiled goofily at him before fixing your sights on an attraction a few feet away. You knew Hoseok hated roller coasters, but you absolutely loved them and since he had said he’d do whatever…

“That roller coaster looks like a death trap, let’s ride it!” You grinned eagerly, pointing at a tall building that housed what was supposedly one of the park’s scariest rides. The track dipped outside the building at points and you could tell that it was fast, high up, and had lots of loops and turns. 

Hoseok paled, turning to you nervously. “Are-are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

You were obviously joking about the death part, but your boyfriend wasn’t certain of that.

You instantly felt bad, fixing your gaze on the pavement. “I-I mean I’d really like to ride it. But I could always go alone and you wait for me here?”

Hoseok sighed, resigning himself to his fate. “I don’t want to spend time without you, love, let’s just get this ride over with.”

~~

Being the girlfriend of an idol certainly had its perks as the two of you were allowed to skip the line. One of the staff smiled broadly at the two of you as he lead you to the front. “Because of who you are, Mr. Jung, we’ve reserved an entire car for the two of you. You won’t have to deal with any annoying fans.”

You thanked the staff member, helping Hoseok crawl into his seat before joining him. “See, Hobi,” you whispered, “it’s ok if you’re going to be frightened. Only I’ll know and I’d never judge you.”

Hoseok only sighed, tightening his seatbelt and pulling the handlebar to his stomach. You mirrored his actions quickly, reaching out to give his hand a quick squeeze before the ride started moving forward and you gripped the handlebar.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” Hoseok muttered worriedly as the car slowly made it’s way through a steep incline. 

“It’s ok,” you smiled at him, slightly able to make out his features through the neon flashing lights. “It’s going to be fun I promise.”

Hoseok sighed again. “But what about you calling it a death trap?”

“I was just joking.” You murmured reassuringly. “These rides are always perfectly safe. Nothing will happen-”

You instantly trailed off as the car shuddered to a stop. 

You leaned forward, slightly, catching a glimpse of the massive drop beneath you. 

“Y/N is this normal?” Hoseok stared at you, terrified. 

You forced yourself to chuckle. “I-I’m sure it’s just part of the ride. Trying to scare us before we fall or something.”

You held your breath, waiting for the drop, before all the lights shut off, leaving you in pitch black darkness.

“Y/N.”

“It’s ok, Hobi, I’m here.” You grimaced at the worry in your voice. What was going on?

As if in answer to your silent question, a loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Hello, currently our ride is undergoing some difficulties. This is no cause for alarm, everything will be fine. Just hang on a minute.”

You gasped. Of course the one time you dragged your boyfriend on a ride, assuring him it would be perfectly safe, something like this would happen.

“Y/N?” Hoseok called again, his voice wavering.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Things like this happen all the time. They’ll probably have it working again in no time.” You were trying to reassure your boyfriend as much as yourself. 

Hoseok stayed silent and you knew he was probably scared out of his mind. Not sure how you could help him, you waited for the ride to start up again.

“Any minute now,” you muttered.

Once more with perfect timing, the loudspeaker crackled. 

“Ah,” the voice coughed, “I’ve been informed that we’re short staffed today. Everything is still perfectly safe, we will just have to wait for a mechanic to get here. Between that and solving the problem we estimate about a thirty minute wait. Just stay patient and calm and most importantly do not exit your cars. We will continue to update you if anything changes.”

The intercom turned off and your heart dropped. 

Thirty minutes.

In the dark.

At the top of the roller coaster.

Hoseok was panting nervously beside you. You couldn’t make out even his silhouette in the pitch black, but judging by his rapid breathing and soft whimpers, his eyes were screwed shut and his hands were curled into fists.

Hoseok has a bad habit of clenching his clammy palms, temporarily scaring his soft skin with little indented crescent moons from the force of his finger nails when he was scared.

Like now.

You grimaced as you imagined the mental and physical pain he was in. You had dragged him on this ride against his better judgement, and now you two were stuck for an indeterminate amount of time in the dark. Scary roller coasters and the dark. Two of your boyfriend’s least favorite things.

You knew Hoseok wouldn’t be able to see you, but maybe you could remind him that you were still there with him. You carefully reached out, trying to grab his hand with your left one. You hoped that by giving him your hand to hold, he would feel a little safer. But you must have misjudged the distance because instead of the clammy, cold hand you expected, you landed on something a little firmer and straighter.

You curiously dragged your fingers across the unknown object. The shape of it made you think of one of the ride’s handlebars but it was softer and shorter than the harsh metal your left hand was gripping. Dragging your fingers back and forth you started to wonder if the object was covered in denim, like the jeans Hoseok was wearing today.

Could it be-?

Oh.

In your intense investigation via touch, you had ignored the low moans that were now spilling out of Hoseok’s mouth.

Grinning to yourself, you decided to test your new hypothesis and stopped moving your hand, leaving it lightly on top of Hoseok’s bulge.

“Y/N” Hoseok breathily moaned. “Don’t-don’t stop.”

“You mean that’s not a handlebar?” You giggled, faking innocence.

Hoseok sighed pitifully. “Please. Please, Y/N, I beg you. Keep moving your hand.”

You couldn’t see anything so you were positive that Hoseok wouldn’t be able to see the frown on your face. Ever since the first time you two had had sex, Hoseok had been entirely dominant, while you always played the submissive role. Not once had he ever begged for you. So the fact that he was doing so now concerned you. It just proved how absolutely terrified he was, that he was so eager for a distraction of any kind.

Realizing that your first time doming your boyfriend was going to be done on a malfunctioning ride where he couldn’t even see you, you wanted to laugh.

Clearing your throat instead, you brought your hands upwards a bit, taking time to press down a bit on his hard member, as your fingers slowly found their way to his zipper.

You could hear Hoseok panting behind gritted teeth so when you finally caught the zipper you pulled it down quickly and slid your fingers into his boxers.

Deciding to tease your boyfriend a bit more, you danced around his member, stroking the inside of his thighs lightly, touching him everywhere but where he needed you.

“Fuck, Y/N, please. Please help me.”

Hearing Hoseok beg for your touch set a pool of warmth in your core. You closed your legs together tightly, determined to ignore your own needs so you could help your terrified boyfriend. Your fingers finally reached Hoseok’s hard member and you started to trail them down it, until the metal bar separating the two of you got in your way. You shifted over in your seat as far as possible, popping your right hip up a bit so your arm had more freedom. The hard metal was cool against your armpit, but your feelings were still currently secondary to pleasing your boyfriend.

With your new reach you grabbed his tip and ran your thumb across it, making sure to slide your finger into the slit which caused Hoseok to moan loudly.

“Just-just like that. Fuck.”

You could hear the pleasure in his voice and grinned to yourself as you wrapped your hand around his width, starting to pump him.

“Ahh, wait.” Hoseok muttered.

Confused, you halted, leaving your hand tight around the middle of his member.

“Let go of my dick for a second.” Hoseok whispered.  “Turn your palm towards my face.”

Perplexed you let go, leaving your hand hovering above it. You shifted it so it was palm up and soon felt something really wet land on it.

“I’m sorry I spat on you, Y/N, but I didn’t know what else to do. We don’t exactly have lube here.” You could hear laughter in your boyfriend’s voice, and you almost sighed in relief. So far your distraction was working.

“It’s fine,” you giggled lightly, returning your attention to his member. You started pumping him again but this time it was a lot smoother since your hand was slick with his spit.

“That feel any better?” You asked, just to make sure.

Hoseok simply groaned in response and you could imagine him throwing his head back, eyes shut, how he always looked whenever he was experiencing intense pleasure.

You moved your hand faster, recognizing that your boyfriend was getting close by his labored breathing.

“Y/N, fuck, Y/N,” Hoseok muttered again.

“Hmm?” You wondered out loud, barely decreasing the speed of your hand sliding up and down him.

“We-we can’t make a mess and I’m-Fuck-I’m about to cum.” Hoseok moaned.

Immediately realizing that he was right, you couldn’t afford to have cum dripping all over the ride’s seats, you halted your ministrations on his member, instead squeezing it tightly, hoping to prevent him from reaching his release.

“Ok, ok,” you thought quickly, “if only there was a way for me to get closer to you, then I could just suck you off and swallow your mess.”

“Fuck, Y/N, that image isn’t really helping.” Hoseok chuckled lightly, his breathing labored as he tried to hold himself back from cumming at the thought of your chubby, rosy cheeks hallowing out around the tip of his cock, licking him clean as he shivered from the overstimulation- “Fuck! Y/N I think I’m about to cum!”

Worried, you immediately pulled away your hand and lifted your head above the bar as much as possible. “Hobi, try and arch upwards towards me.”

Hoseok groaned, finding it easy to thrust his hips upward towards your awaiting mouth.

You forced yourself to bend down even further, the cool bar pressing firmly against your neck, as you finally managed to get the head of his cock in your mouth. 

You quickly resumed stroking the rest of his member, while you licked his tip. 

Hoseok grunted. “Fuck, just like that baby.” His hips arched forward again, spurred on by your touch. 

You grinned, ignoring your inability to take deep breaths as you forced your head to bend down further. The harsh press of the metal on your throat caused you to pant for air, pausing your ministrations on his member.

“Are you choking for me, baby girl?” You could almost hear the smirk in Hoseok’s voice.

You hummed in agreement, hallowing out your cheeks and swallowing around his head as best you could.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” Hoseok moaned, finding your hair with his hand and pulling you even further towards him. 

Your muffled cry of anguish around the metal bar was all Hoseok needed to find his release, his load shooting into your mouth. 

“Swallow for me, love,” Hoseok whispered endearingly. “Swallow it all so we don’t make a mess.” 

You whimpered in agreement, swallowing his salty cum before you licked his cock, making sure he was clean.

Hoseok hissed at the overstimulation, using his grasp on your hair to force you away from him. “Such a good girl for me.”

You took a deep breath as soon as the bar was off your neck and you licked your lips clean. You panted slightly before realizing the wetness pooled between your clenched thighs.

Maybe you’d have to start doing breath play in the bedroom, if this had turned you on that much. 

Nevertheless, you groaned slightly, forcing your legs closer together for any sort of friction. 

“Oh?” Hoseok teased, immediately honing in on your sounds. “Is someone needy?”

You whimpered slightly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see you if you simply nodded your head.

“Well you took such good care of me, maybe I can help you out.” 

Immediately you could feel Hoseok’s long fingers find your inner thigh. He slowly drew them up towards your wet core.

He took his time undoing the button on your jeans before diving his hand towards your wet underwear.

You moaned as his index finger stroked your clit through the wet material.

“Fu-fuck, Hoseok.” You whimpered. 

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully before shifting beside you. You could only assume that he had propped himself up, much like you had done earlier, as his fingers pulled your underwear aside and played with your clit.

You groaned as Hoseok continued to massage the sensitive bud before slowly moving his fingers down between your folds. 

You were already wet enough that Hoseok felt no qualms about inserting two fingers, quickly pulling them in and out of you.

Your hips rutted against his fingers, trying to gain more friction.

“I don’t know how much longer we have, baby girl, so I hope you can cum soon.” Hoseok whispered darkly.

He bent his fingers, managing to brush against your spot as he continued to pull them in and out. After a few more minutes your breath hitched. 

“I-I’m cumming.” You moaned.

“Cum all over my fingers, baby girl.” Hoseok whispered, using his thumb to play with your clit.

With the extra stimulation, you quickly reached your high, feeling a brief moment of bliss before Hoseok removed his hands. 

“Button up your pants, love.” He pressed his fingers against your lips and you obligingly opened your mouth, swirling your tongue around your own release. 

“Fuck, you’re so obedient.” Hose’s smile was audible. “Such a good girl.”

You hummed, tired, but proud as you quickly zipped your jeans. 

Of course with its impeccable timing, once more the intercom sounded. 

“Attention please. The mechanic has made all necessary repairs and the ride should be resuming in a matter of moments. Enjoy.”

You turned to face Hoseok as the neon lights abruptly turned back on. You were met with dark eyes filled with lust as he smirked at you. 

~~

Hoseok whistled as the two of you walked away from the ride’s photo booth, smirking at the blurry photo he held in his hand.

“I’ll ride that again, anytime.” He cheekily winked at you before showing you the photograph he’d bought. 

It was of you and Hoseok during the very beginning of the drop, just after the ride had resumed working. 

Hoseok’s eyes were alight with fear, joy, and very palpable lust as he had let go of the handlebars, throwing his hands above his head as if victorious.

You on the other hand, had a blank, blissed out expression as your hair was messy and lipstick smeared over your face. 

“Aish.” You slapped your boyfriend’s arm as he stuffed the photograph into his back pocket. “I can’t believe you bought that.”

“Why wouldn’t I have gotten a photo to commemorate one of the best rides of my life?” Hoseok shrugged innocently. 

Refusing to be goaded, you decided to play innocent.

“Really?” You grabbed his hands, interlocking your fingers as you stared up at him. “Because I promise that ride is so much fun when you don’t get stuck there for forever. The drop was less scary because we lost acceleration. So let’s go do it again so you can see how much fun it actually is!” You tugged at him, back towards the ride.

Hoseok refused to move, laughing at you. Lightly pulling at your hands he brought you over to him, looking directly into your eyes. He bit his lip and grinned broadly. “You know that’s not the ride I meant. So what do you say we take advantage of the rest of the day and head home for round two?”

Low-key I’m such a bad procrastinator... I’ve had this unfinished, sitting in drafts for weeks... BUT HERE IT FINALLY IS!!! A DAY BEFORE IT’S DUE! Hope you enjoyed!!!

~Admin S

Masterlist 

Buy Me a Coffee

[strainingfororiginality]

13.6 - Redemption

Note from Author: It has been weeks since the last update and I’d only gotten halfway through this chapter when I realized it was already longer than most other updates.   With some convincing persuasion from one of my eager and lovely readers, I’ve decided to split it into two updates.  I hope you enjoy!

Hey - Matisse & Sadko Remix - Fais, Afrojack, Matisse & Sadko

Sandalphon took a wide stance and faced the newly opened gate. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, both in mind and in spirit. Uttering encouraging words to herself, she nodded. "Alright then. Now for the hard part."

"What … hard part?" Uriel asked from behind, though she had no intention for him to hear her and even less intention to answer his question. She wasn’t even certain if anything was happening until the chamber began to rumble. She expected it to be jarring. In fact, she had only seen how uncomfortable it would be, but the actual pain was even more than she assumed and her legs buckled. Her palms flew forward as she gripped the sides of the well to steady herself. “Oooof!”

Uriel nearly caught her in the stumble, but her words were firm. "Do not touch me … please … don’t … I can’t do it if you’re touching me ..." Everything ebbed and flowed all around them. Everything around them danced and waved and she nearly vomited into the well itself.

"What exactly are you doing, Andy?" His words were both slow and fast. She didn’t have it quite right yet. The rock cave vibrated in waves, the ripples moved out and beyond their remote location. Everything was ...

"I have to …" She twitched. Her jaw clenched. Her hands gripped the stone until her knuckles turned white. “... speed it up … and slow it down … or they all won’t make it through … before ...”

"Speed it up?" Uriel swallowed. “Speed what up?”

"Heaven must spin faster …" Everything sped up, but then slowed. Dammit. She gasped and pinched her eyes shut. Her brows furrowed madly. “As fast as Hell … but only the lower levels …”

"You just finished telling me that if we’re out of alignment … we’ll spin out of control."

"I know …" Ooof. Good lord. The nausea weighed heavily inside the pit of her stomach. Her shoulders heaved as she bit into her lower lip. As soon as she would speed it up, everything would grind down again and she craned her head to the right. “I know what I said, brother … let’s just hope it doesn’t, yeah? And it doesn’t help with you rattling in my ear!”

"Fine. Whatever. Why am I still here again? To twiddle my god-damn thumbs?"

She could feel him step away as she tried and failed again. Everything slipped back. "Shit." Letting the well go, she stood and shook herself off as the tiniest of winds blew through her hair. “Yeah, yeah. Ok. Ok. No worries. No worries. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.” Glancing back, she glared at the angel who had opted to cross his arms and lean his back against the wall rather than bother with a continued argument. She knew what she had to do and as she swung back to the well, she cringed. She had hoped she could just spin one gear faster, but it wasn’t possible. Of course it would slip. They were gears afterall. She would need to spin two of them. If Heaven was to move faster, then Hell would need to move slower.

She closed her eyes and relaxed her form. The gears cranked and she moved her hands blindly across them, gripping their teeth. She stood her ground and for a moment, the cave thundered and shook before everything slipped marvelously into place.

The hum that emanated from her was both satisfying and excruciating. Her body convulsed and just as she opened her eyes, she saw the first soul step through.

"Where? Where am I?" The old woman asked, bewildered and confused, and Uriel snapped to attention, touching her arm and pointing her towards the large door as he ushered her towards the chamber’s exit. The next soul stepped through immediately.

"You’re home now. You’re safe." He guided her out before turning to the next soul just as two more funneled through. They stepped around the Wheel and began to crowd the small room. Sandalphon’s smile could have lit up the entire room as she heard her Traveller quake across the Nexus, flicking it back on for this specific message and her relief only grew because the Nexus would need to be fucking purring like a kitten for the next part to happen.

Camiel, Jophiel, Zadkiel, Simiel, Oriphiel, Raguel. To the Well of Judgement. Quickly now. You are needed for the Rapture.

A dozen souls now. Two dozen. As the Elder Elohim arrived, they aided in funnelling the souls out of the area and suddenly two dozen became a hundred, and then two hundred. Sandalphon clenched her jaw and ground her teeth. Almost there ...

Three hundred ...

Four.

Five ...

Devil Inside (Epic Trailer Version) [ feat. Casey Hensley] - J2

Here come the woman

With the look in her eye

Raised on leather

With flesh on her mind

Words as weapons

Sharper than knives

Makes you wonder how the other half die

How the other half die

Makes you wonder

The woman in black placed her hand on the glyph etched into the stone slab. She could sense the violet energy pulsing through it, tickling her dark fingertips. And though she couldn’t feel anything beyond its barrier, she knew the Morning Star’s body laid beyond its obfuscation. She was closer to him at this moment than she had been in millenia and her body flooded with nervous bumps.

"Are you nervous? You look nervous. Should I be nervous?" Deebaj prodded her. “I’ve never seen you nervous.”

"It is not nerves, Sun King." She glanced at the golden-haired Djinn lord. “It is relief. I am so tired of hiding in these shadows.”

She took the deepest of breaths. Short and dramatic as she felt the Wheel begin to spin the gears of time. A near smile crept upon her hidden mouth, but it fell away as time ratcheted back to normal. She felt the angel try again and then again … and then again.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake …" She gripped the edge of her niqāb and thrust it away from her face. Her back was still to the men but did her anonymity really matter anymore? After this, her secret would be out. And nothing could be stopped now. She pulled the fabric constraints away from her visage and cast them to the floor. “Must I do everything myself?!” Lilith pushed her shoulders back and took a massive breath. Closing her eyes, she reached out, beneath and behind Sandalphon. Just out of the Angel’s perception and she gripped the gears with her mind. The angel nearly had it, but as Lilith steadied her, everything began to hum in perfect unison. “Ahhhhh … Yes. There it is, my sister …”

As she pulled away, she opened her eyes and felt her Morning Star snap from this world entirely. "It has started … Lucifer has gone dark."

"It’s time?" Deebaj asked and reached to place his hand on the slab, but Lilith caught it quickly, swatting it away.

"No! Not yet, idiot! He is not the one we need to be blind. The other must go dark ..." Lilith felt exhilarated. Her heart pumped furiously in her chest and the blood thundered in her ears.

"So … the Morning Star is really gone?" The Sun King chuckled. “I still can’t believe that little halfling actually beat the Lightbringer himself.”

"He is not gone!" She spat at the ignorant assumption. Of course he was not. She would not have agreed to such terms. Her eyes closed as relief washed over her face. Her shoulders relaxed and she peeled all of the constrictive outer clothing from her body, allowing it to drop on the ground as she stepped out of its pile to reveal a tight tank top and jeans. The men behind whispered in disagreement and she stretched her arms high above her head. No more hiding. No more covering. No more false subjugation. “And the halfling was never meant to beat him … She was always meant to push him to the only one who can save him.”

No Man’s Land - Zack Hemsey

No man alive this planet can illuminate your path

No guide that came before can show the way beyond the pass

No footprints on the trail for you to follow in the tracks

For you to make it there you have to leave without the map

And no amount of pleading can release you from the trap

There’s no degree of toil that can serve to bridge the gap

You can trek across the plains without much weight upon your back

But if you’re tortured in your mind, you will crumble from the facts

So flee the shelter for the storm before the caves collapse

Everything paused and she stood, leaving Lucifer crouched and frozen in the middle of the dead campfire as she spun around to take in her changed surroundings. She half expected to see her sisters all still sitting there, but ... they were alone. The confluence was empty and quiet, completely serene in this eerie final moment of its existence.

Her hands trembled and her stomach churned over the situation as her decision sank in: the spark had been ignited and it was going to ripple out from the very center of him … no matter what she did now. No matter what anyone did.

Eventually, she would need to let time flow. Eventually, she would need to accept the fate she had delivered to herself. Eventually, she would need to let herself end, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet and so she stepped away from the the logs and the dead campfire. Letting her hand brush against the waist high grass of the surrounding field, she began to explore as she stared up into the perpetual twilight of the multi-colored, cloudless sky of the confluence. It wasn’t brighter on any particular horizon and so she picked a random direction and began to walk, curious of how big this strange world might be.

It wasn’t long until she came to an edge and found the ocean. When she first arrived, she had heard the waves crashing from afar and as she squinted out across the now still water, she saw no end to it. Crossing her arms, she decided to walk to the right, and began to follow along the curved water line as she considered her decisions and actions that led them to this moment.

In the beginning, before the world changed, she had been afraid.

She had always been afraid. Her fear had stemmed from the first moment she took breath and she often wondered if everyone experienced life this way. And it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything. Afraid of heights. Afraid of failure. Afraid of life. Nothing she had ever done had mattered in any way and she had always been afraid nothing ever would. She had never been strong or powerful or courageous enough.

She had been weak.

She had only ever been weak and she knew her weakness was not only in her body, but it permeated every inch of her being. Weakness of mind. Weakness of character. Weakness of emotion. Weakness of appearance. She lacked so much and she had made so many mistakes. Her life was full of more blunder than success.

She had been alone.

She had no family left. She had no friends and she was certain Ellie didn’t count. It never had. That friendship hadn’t been out of choice, but rather, it was manufactured out of necessity … necessity for this sacrifice. For her sacrifice.

And she had been a complete failure.

Not in every way but just in the only way that mattered. None of her impressive feats and accomplishments had mattered at all in the end, because she was a failure in the most fundamental and important way.

As defiant as she was, she had still tried to change, to fit into the world, but then the world had changed instead and she relished in it. The false masks of humanity were thrown aside and false strength was punished. The truly weak were outed for what they really were. Fake and hollow and without merit. Evolution had taken humanity by the neck and it was purged. She was no longer found wanting. When so many had fallen, she was cast into the fire and she rose from it.

And then … after she had survived the fire on her own … there had been Quintus …

She grinned at the memories of him. All of them. In all his strange and antiquated tendencies, his harsh and often rude manners, his utter lack of small talk or need for candidness. He was himself in every instant and he never showed shame for it.

She questioned now … Was it him with which she had fallen in love? Or was it how he made her feel? Did the difference between the two even matter? She felt like it should and she accepted it did and she decided it was more the former than the latter. He had not judged or pitied. He had not chosen to see her for only what she was lacking, but rather what she could offer. Her differences were never a weakness, just like his own, but they were an asset. In fact, he had held her to the highest of standards, refused to accept anything less, and desired her like none other.

She could have survived without him, but knowing him had made her better. But then when he was gone, the world started to slip back into what it was before. Slowly at first, but then quicker with time, it found a footing in the superficial and fickle nature that had led to its downfall in the first place. Old habits die hard and she saw the survivors reverting to what they had been before the fall.

Whatever place Dawn felt that she had earned slowly melted away and there was no place for her again. In that life ... For months she fought it, but she fully accepted it when Gus laid eyes on Anya again and she felt his heart flutter towards the woman’s beauty. He was a good man. He would have stayed with her, but she knew that wouldn’t be fair to him and she recognized that terrible feeling because her ex had felt that way as well. When they looked at her, there was nothing but judgement and pity. The former towards her, and latter towards themselves.

Perhaps if she couldn’t feel their emotions ... if she could have just been blind to the unfair reality of what she was to them, then she could have feigned happiness. She always thought it was in her head ... how she always knew what they felt ...

Her Mother … despised her daughter’s differences. She regretted having her.

Her ex … pitied himself for the responsibility of being stuck with someone so plain. It weighed on him over the years. His eyes wandered often and she felt it … every single time.

Gus … punished himself with an overwhelming sense of responsibility, and what they had was nothing more than that. His heart was never in it. He never loved her, not in the way that she needed. She never felt that from him. He was just a man and like every boring man she knew, his emotions did not expand past his eyes.

Ellie … was always so proud of her. She had driven and pushed and motivated. She knew there was potential where Dawn didn’t think any existed.

Michael … protected and taught and nurtured, in his own fucked up way. Everything he had done had been out of necessity, desperation, and compassion. She wasn’t the only one he had to worry about. He had an entire family to care for, and she was only a small piece of what he needed to protect. He was broken in much the same way she was. They shared this failure together.

Quintus … accepted and embraced and loved and desired her. It is such a simple but powerful thing to be desired and until she really felt, she had no idea how much she had been starved for it.

She thought of his painful sting the first time they met. She thought of the kisses most of all. Of that unreturned kiss in the subway and then the very-much returned kiss in the dream and then, the kiss on the couch and then subsequently in the tiny cabin. And then she remembered her dream of Rome. They were walking hand in hand down the cobblestone streets. Her inner optimist had hoped it to be a glimpse of the future …

And Lucifer …

She looked down and recognized her own footsteps in the sand before her. She had come full circle already and it was no more than a mile. This place, the powerful Confluence, was just a tiny island in the sea of time and she turned back towards its center, trying to retrace her steps precisely. She found the Morning Star exactly as she had left him: crouched and frozen in the center of the dead campfire circle.

Nodding, she breathed out. She was so tired and it was time. Ellie had told her that she could not be fully fixed until she finished breaking, and that it had now finally happened, but her friend had been wrong. Dawn would never have time to fully heal.

She knelt beside the Morning Star and relaxed her body, allowing just a trickle of time to flow. She turned the spout just far enough so that infrequent, single drops could escape through its spigot. It was just enough for the Lightbringer to consciously become aware of her. Everything around them crawled.

"Aurora?" His brows pinched as much as they could. His finger twitched as he tried to move, but the energy rippling from the center of him prevented him from shaking her shoulders. “What … what have you done?”

"I’ve won." All of this. Everything he had done. She knew him. This had been a game. An infinite game that she had made finite. She smiled. It wasn’t sinister or smug. It was a smile of acceptance and victory. It was a smile of pride. “You’ve lost and I’ve won. I am the captain of my soul.”

The Forgotten - Zack Hemsey

Formless cuz your forms are shameless

You’ve forgotten where you’re from

And all your flaws that made you famous

Threats are painless, aim this at your heart to make the pain lift

Shape-shift on this track to scratch your name right off the game’s list

The Sun Hunters swung into an open window and Raum followed closely behind them. Even with their sizable force, they made good time and moved swiftly across and through the rocks. He gazed at the two dozen men.

"I’ve got point."

"Sir." Vaun waved him to the front of the group.

Raum moved towards the shut door, but before he reached for the handle, the marid paused. It was time. Closing his eyes, he allowed his human facade to melt away. It had been so long since he had taken his birth form and as the change rolled over his spirit, the strigoi took a step away from the devil.

Flicking his head to the right and then to the left, his bones cracked. His body grew and changed. He was already fairly tall, but his spine stretched an additional six inches and his chest widened several more. His skin reddened. His feet hooved. His eyes turned black and yellow. His canines and ears pointed. Black horns erupted from each side of his temple, forcing his ears down as the width of each neared the size of his own neck.

Though he had missed it, Raum hated this form now. His brother’s dark reputation had tainted it. Once, the Marid had been seen as powerful, beautiful, and strong. But now, they were the very embodiment of Hell and seen as that of the devil himself; evil and repugnant.

But he accepted it now because In this place, at this time, it would be far more useful than feigning human. Flashing a fanged smile, he turned back to the strigoi and found their eyes wide. They had seen fallen angels. They had seen Ifrit. They had seen many lesser Djinn. They had even seen a Giant Sun God himself, but they had yet to lay their eyes on a full blooded marid. "Ready?"

Vaun drew his sword and nodded compliance before Raum breached the hallway. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but entirely empty had never crossed his mind. The strigoi worked around him, moving with silent swiftness around each bend in the path. At each corner, they found nothing awaiting them down the next long collider. He thought they might be alone until the distant sound of dragging and shuffling pricked his oversized ears.

When the prey was in full view, ambling away from them down the hallway, Raum drew his blade and held a palm back to the Sun Hunters, silently commanding them to stay and then he advanced on the thing.

He was nearly to it when his intended target turned around. "Ummm … Sir?"

Sir? This thing believed him to be Shaitan and Raum froze in his advancement, blinking. "Halaz …" He remembered this Nasnas, one of the accursed half things. A good soldier, but not overly bright … obviously.

"I thought you were … with the Lord?" The Nasnas glanced behind himself with his half-head and pointed his only arm down the path the other direction.

"Ah, yes. I was … " Raum cleared his throat and glanced down at his drawn blade as Halaz eyed the weapon suspiciously. The marid feigned a weak smile and resheathed it slowly. “I was just on… uh … my way back …” Raum scratched the back of his neck and stood straight as the half-monster hopped past him.

"Very good, sir."

"Halaz …" Raum called to the lower minion and the pitiful being turned to him slowly, but fully. The thing was clearly nervous about something.

"Sir?"

"Where is everyone?"

"Sir?" The thing tilted his half-head and his lone brow furrowed. “You ordered everyone to the gate. Everyone.”

"Right. I know … but … " The Marid smiled. “I mean … Exactly. So why are you still here?”

"I …" The halfling looked down in shame. “I am so sorry, sir. I did not wish to leave my … catalogue. I … I have kept a journal of our time here and I do not wish to … “ The being sighed heavily and fished a leather bound book which had been hidden within his shirt. He held it out, expecting Raum to confiscate it from him. “I … I want our real story to be known. I did not want us to be remembered as … the devils we have become …”

"Halaz." Raum reached for the trembling thing. Empathy bombarded the Marid and he pushed the offered book away with his right hand and gripped Halaz’s shoulder with his left. “Go to the gate. Go now. No more delays, do you understand me? Go to the front. Tell them I sent you there. Now.”

He looked up into the Marid’s eyes and nodded. Making good time, he hobbled around the corner and came face to face with the hidden strigoi. "S-s-s-sir … ??" Halaz’s eyes found Raum’s again and his voice cracked as actual recognition danced across his half-face. “Sir … Sir ...”

"It is good to see you again, Halaz." Raum winked, accepting the minion understood his true name. “Go to the Gate now. Make sure our story is known. Do you understand?”

The halfling nodded and hopped passed the Sun Hunter force. Vaun carefully watched him hobble by before glancing to Raum. "He’ll warn others."

"No." The Marid shook his head. “He won’t.” Raum turned and his cautious stroll turned brisk as the revelation they didn’t need to sneak anymore fully sank in.

Absolute silence. Both armies. All four Hayyoth. Nothing moved. Not even the Nazi that held his breath as he questioned his own action. Stillness crawled over the area and now the only sound was that of the wind as it whined viciously through the jagged rocks and kicked up dust into the hot, humid air.

The other three Hayyoth were still on their backs, but Raphael was already cradling her empty, limp shell in his arms. The sparks of their divinity were so hot that it had fused the surrounding sand and the ground was covered in glass shards.

As he began to pull the shaft of his staff from her impaled body, sliding it out of the passage the Nazi had sent it, into her back and through her lungs and ribs, nearly grazing her heart and he stitched the skin, muscle, bones, and cells back together as purple energy flooded across her skin. There was no divinity left in her now. The staff had stolen all of it. Hers and that which Lucifer had shared with her.

Thomas stuttered from behind. "I am sorry, Sir … I am … I … I thought it necessary. The Master said … I am so sorry--"

"It was. It was necessary." Raphael did not tear his eyes from her blank stare as he reassured the stammering strigoi without gazing upon him. “You did good, Thomas. You did good.” The Traveller waited, his breath bated, his grip on her firm, and his brothers finally began to stir. Gabriel was first to rise again. And then Ozryel. Both gazed down at the empty shell in his arms, unable to physically voice what was on their minds, though their worry was thundering across their minds.

And last, Michael was to his feet …

Raphael still didn’t look away from her eyes. "Don’t do this …" he whispered and, as he knew they would, his brother’s agony began. “I’m sorry …”

"What happened? What happened?!?!" Michael clambered forward, reaching out to her but Ozryel caught him. The angel already knew what happened. “No. No!” He fought to fall forward but Ozryel held him back. “NO! Raphael! Where is she?! Where is SHE?! What did she do?!?”

"She took him to the confluence." Raphael closed his eyes and embraced her, holding her tight against him, he buried his face into her neck and whispered into her again, knowing she could not hear him. “Please don’t do this … please …”

"No …" Michael fought Ozryel’s arms, but in his weakness, he collapsed into them. “No … why would she …”

"Because … it was the only thing that could be done. She saved … everything."

Silence. In this brief moment, even the wind held its breath …

"What? Sorry … but … " Scratching the back of his neck, Gabriel asked as his ignorance finally overwhelmed him. “What the fuck is the Confluence?”

I Can Get It Back - Zack Hemsey 4:40+

Cuz now I'm pushing forward and nobody dare oppose

Now I'm moving faster while that ticking clock slows

And now I'm climbing higher like the ground can't hold

So I don't plan on stopping when this summit plateaus

I'm that invasion of the body by the soul

Sickened from the cold but soon a certified whole

Never one to fight but I just hit it on the nose

It took my spirit, but I got it back, case closed

His powerful legs pounded against the rocky ground as he outpaced the lesser fallen charging around him. If he hadn’t been pushing himself to his very limits, he might have felt the low rumblings that had finally reached the top level as the very foundations that held the structure of Hell together began to fracture and break apart beneath them, but he was entirely distracted with the passion of battle.

His sword was already drawn in his right hand and both arms trailed behind him while he sprinted through the tail of heat left by the Titan in full fury. The legion had spread out from their phoenix leader in an triangle pattern as Prometheus was leaving such incredible heat in the wake of his burn.

The form of the advancing force was quite advantageous. They would ram into the much larger army like a fiery wedge and Quinlan had every intention to be at the front of that marvelous impact. He pushed himself harder and faster than he ever had before, taking the direct heat from the Titan as he trailed directly behind. All of his other battles had been against mere men and his excitement brewed and bubbled under his focused surface.

Persephone was no longer the voluptuous redhead that he saw jump from the cliff edge. She was that marvelous dragon again. Basilisk Prime. And all four of her legs pounded, full-sprint, pacing to the right of the Sun God. As she came fully in view before Quinlan, her head flicked back to acknowledge his presence and she edged to the right, giving the dhampir the space to pace them, in the very front, in the very center. Quinlan took the offer and smiled as he emerged from the heat trail.

And as he came to the very front, the moment he was aligned perfectly with the seraphim, a glorious whirlwind danced up before them, leading the charge and kicking up the sand, the dirt, the rocks, everything it could, in a viscous trifecta of massive dust devils.

But this was entirely expected … for as history itself remembers, as Plutarch himself wrote, the wind had always been on the side Quintus Sertorius.

They crashed viciously into the Army of Hell and this moment was no different. Certainly the enemy had felt the rumbling of something large, and some soldiers turned towards the distant quaking. Some even attempted to run at the last moment, but there was nowhere to go and the sand had masked the truth of the impending impact. As the Titan sparked the moment of contact, a fourth of their opposition was simply gone without even the time for the souls to scream at their own tortuous destruction.

Perhaps Quinlan should have taken the distance of the gregori and djinn in tow as a careful warning, because he felt his soul begin to singe at the start of the blast, but The Maiden’s speed proved unmatched even against her brother Titan’s. Her claws gripped Quinlan’s rib cage and she came up to two feet and turned her back to Prometheus’ fire. The Earth elemental’s arms wrapped him and her endurance, no doubt created for this very purpose, shielded the dhampir against The Face of God.

What followed was absolute silence and her grip on Quinlan eased. His boots hit the dirt and he waved at the dust that stung at his eyes and face. They heard ... nothing. Not even the force that had charged behind them.

The smoke and ash were so thick he couldn't even make out the Titan any longer. Slowly, the gentlest of breezes rolled through the area. Where the back of the army had been, there was nothing but charred earth. From a great distance, he heard coughing and then voices. The wind swept the area again and the remaining army was a good quarter mile from their location.

"Deodamnatus …" All of those souls. All of those soldiers. Gone.

Shaking the soot from his coat, he made it no more than two steps before her claw gripped his shoulder. The massive grin painted across her face concerned him and he might have asked what she had in mind, but her hold on him shifted to his torso and then tightened as his feet left the ground. Uh oh. Quinlan cringed. "Hold tight to your mini-pigsticker, halfing."

Oh … Oh gods … oh … gods ....

She was running at full sprint and then she threw him. In a beautiful and perfect spiral. When he understood what was about to occur, his body grew rigid. His grip on the sword solidified and she thrust him perfectly through the air, sending him like a spinning spear into the heart of the force ahead.

He kept his arms tucked in tight until the moment before he would launch into his first target and then his arms relaxed, allowing the blade to cut savagely around him like a saw. Everything in his path was cut down. Arms, legs, torsos, heads. He rent them asunder and soldiers tried in desperation to leap from his path.

The sword’s edge ricocheted against the hard ground as his velocity slowed and the trajectory of his path curved down, putting his head in a direct collision with the ground. On his final revolution, he thrust the blade into the dirt, hilting it entirely as his body swung around and his boots found the ground and skidded to a marvelous halt.

No soldier made any immediate movement. Quinlan’s dizzy head swam, but he feigned perfect level headedness as he stood entirely erect and then spoke. "You have all been misled!" He yanked the sword from the ground, cracking his neck from side to side as they regarded him and fully accepted who it was that stood before them, perusing his Hayyoth features. Not even one of them had moved yet and he took the opportunity to try and sway them further. In fact, he could not help himself but try. “You know who I am!”

The first wicked-souled man stepped forward to foolishly challenge him, and the dhampir rid him of his head with a mere flick of the wrist. Smirking, he continued to speak. "Were you not once The Rebellious Ones?!" He bellowed to the fallen riddled amongst the confused and most wicked of human souls. “Pitiful that you bow before such a pathetic tyrant child!”

There was a movement to the left that caught his attention and the dhampir turned to address the next to challenge him. This was an Infernal Djinn. An ifrit; a being of half-fire, half-spirit. His skin rippled with waves of heat and his horns maintained a fiery crown above his red-skinned head.

He towered over Quinlan by several feet as he scoffed at the dhampir’s words. "I bow before no one … not even you." He swiped at the dhampir with a hand full of black claws and though his speed was impressive to say the least, it could not match the dhampir’s own. Quinlan sidestepped the motion, grinning as familiar footfalls grew closer to them. His heel was into the back of the Djinn’s knee as he thrust it forward causing the larger creature to buckled before him … to his knees.

A trine of Gregori moved to aid but she broke through the dust cloud looming behind, swatting one away with ease and grabbing the other between her massive jaws. She crunched hard before flinging him to the side with a flick of her head. The last writhed uselessly from beneath the talons of her hind legs and she screeched so loud the rock trembled on the ground and she stood her ground beside Quinlan.

His arm found its way around the Infernal’s neck and he whispered down into the Djinn’s ear. "And yet … you now bow before me … do you not?" There was pathetic resistance and he flexed the muscles of his arm as he whispered it again. “Yield.” One nod. This was all that was needed and he pulled back, placing his boot squarely on the Ifrit’s back, he thrust the Djinn to his face and into the dirt before him.

"I am the son of Sempronius Densus!" If only he had known Honoria’s true last name, this would have held even greater weight among these fallen. His lip sneered as he proudly claimed Ozryel as his maker. “And the offspring of the Angel of Death. The True Right Hand of God! Stand with us or burn!!!”

Us. The timing was perfect because the Titan was in motion again. Quinlan could hear his thundering fists rocking the ground.

He wasn’t expecting what happened next but he didn’t resist it. Her claws were around his torso again and she flicked him up and onto her back. He normally rode into battle on horseback but this was very different. There was no saddle to hold him in place and his heels pinched at her sides. He gripped a handful of her scaled flesh in his left hand as he thrust his blade into the air with his right. A savage and barbaric scream escaped his lungs as she roared in rhythm with him.

At first, he assumed his speech had no effect, but rebellious words and thoughts rippled through the army and in a beautiful wave of final defiance, the Djinn and Gregori turned their blades to the wicked human soul beside them as Prometheus finally emerged from the dust behind. His legs and arms beating against the ground as he thundered passed Persephone, striking anyone and everyone away with broad sweeping ape-like strokes.

As he and his dragon steed galloped into the heart of battle, and as their Djinn and Gregori forces finally caught up from behind, Quinlan found himself laughing. He picked off what targets he could, flicking his sword from left to right, while trying to maintain his position upon his fast dragon stead.

It was very unlike her to remain so quiet, and when she finally did speak, he fully expected the immaturity that accompanied it.

"I told you you’d like riding me ... didn’t I?"

Seeing is Believing - Zack Hemsey

Adam laid a hand on the priestess’ helpful shoulder. When he had approached her first in Purgatorium, as her original memories came back into focus, she was more than eager to help. "Keep them moving." He instructed. “I’ll be back shortly.”

"Where are you going?" She urged the next one through the now open portal and the soul was whisked away, dissolving into the stream of light that shot up and beyond the ceiling. The next stepped up and she held an open hand, guiding the old man up the steps and into the energy.

"I must do one more thing." Adam wasn’t sure if he should really voice it and he decided against a full explanation. It was unnecessary. “I will be back. Keep it moving. Quickly.”

He left the chamber and walked down the line of thousands of people. Down the long, long corridors until he came to the round staircase. Where the people were lined up from above, he diverted and went down. His steps were swift and he began to jump several levels, running his hands against the wall and the newly forming cracks. The further he went, the larger the cracks were becoming and a low vibration rattled the ground beneath.

"I know what I’m doing." He assured the voice that rang with concern in his ears. “I’ll be back in time … I know. I know … I just can’t … leave him there. It’s not right.”

And when he was back to the level before the bottom, he did not waver to turn the knob on the newest door and the pitiful figure within fell forward. He had been sitting with his back against the door and Adam bent, helping the older man to his feet. The soul had been a boy when he arrived here, but that was a very long time ago.

"Who are you?" Zach allowed the prophet to pull him to his feet, squinting into the sudden onslaught of light.

"I am your salvation, Zachary. Quickly now. Come on."

"I don’t deserve … salvation."

"Perhaps not, but I offer it nonetheless. Shall we?" Adam waved a hand towards the exit, but the man hesitated. “Do you not wish to see your father?”

"... father? …"

If not for the utter silence, he wouldn’t have heard that tiniest of whispers repeating his last word. If not for his utter blindness, his sensitive ears wouldn’t have even heard it. This was not Zach.

"... father? …"

Adam held his breath. The whispered word repeated and Adam’s heart cringed.

"... father?"

He was familiar with the intonation of this voice, but nothing more. It was now old and harsh and different, yet he still heard that child in it, the soul he knew.

"S-s-sir?" Zach tugged at Adam’s arm, desperate to be away from the cells.

Adam touched the face of this criminal and compared his crimes to that of his own son’s. Zach had caused so much more pain and death compared to that of his own offspring. There was a moment of remorse, a tiny instant of possible forgiveness, until Adam remembered Abel’s face and Abel’s voice ... which he would never hear again.

He thought of Abel’s beautiful soul and he cracked completely. Convulsing forward as every bit of anguished emotion he hid poured forth from the prophet’s being and he gripped his own forehead. Tears streamed down his dirty face.

"I can’t …" He shook his head as he remembered Abel’s laugh. He remembered his son’s joy and wonder and mercy. He remembered the love. “I’m sorry …. No …. I won’t.”

"Sir? Won’t … what?" Zach asked.

But Adam wasn’t speaking to him. He was speaking to the voice that consoled him from within. The voice that urged him towards forgiveness, towards retribution, but the prophet couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Not yet … in fact, never.

Abel’s soul was gone and there was nothing that could fix that. There was nothing that could change what Cain had done.

"Nothing." He gripped Zach’s shoulder. “It’s nothing. We need to go … now.”

Zach nodded and stepped forward, gripping Adam’s hand as if the blind man needed his guidance and before the prophet was entirely out of range, he heard the word one last time, but this time it wasn’t a question or a plea. This time it was acceptance and just a statement of fact. This time it was angry.

"Father."

Betelgeuse - King Creosote

Oh I have travelled far

To douse the astro fire within my heart

Drop off the radar screen

My ship has set course for the space in between Orion's Belt and Betelgeuse

I may not be back

I may not be back

Believe me

Peace at last, please

"This is not what I wanted, Aurora …" EL’s voice cracked as it exposed more emotion than she thought he was capable. “This isn’t a win. You didn’t--”

Between my desire ...

She giggled. He was grasping and she knew it. "We both know I don’t belong there … I never did, EL."

"No. That’s not right. It can’t be right." He couldn’t move. The spark had gripped his body and he felt it growing, emanating out, so very painfully slow. If he could move, he would have shaken her. He would have … done something ... “No. No. No … That’s why I hate it so much. That’s why I loathe it …”

… And your spasm.

"Because I don’t belong there? That’s why you want to destroy it?" She laughed again and shook her head over even the thought of it. “Don’t blame this on me. You’ve always hated it.” She relaxed fully into the sand. Her bottom sinking into the back of her heels as her knees dug holes. “Nothing would have changed that.”

"I wanted to remake it. To reshape it. It was broken. Every soul that came to Hell. Every ugly soul. I could see it. Something isn’t right about it. Father knew that … He always knew it wasn’t perfect. He knew he had created something … broken. I wanted to fix that. I wanted to make it perfect."

"That’s your problem. That’s its problem." She took a deep breath. “Don’t you get it, EL? It’s that obsession with perfection that makes it all so very … broken ...”

"How fucked up of a creation is it that something as beautiful as you … feels as broken as you do."

Between your potency ...

"It’s because I am broken, EL. I don’t belong there. I wanted to …" She looked down into her empty hands, as if she expected to find something there, and when she didn’t, she shook her head. “

"You aren’t the failure. It’s the failure … it failed you. Creation failed you ... just like it failed me. Please ..." He didn’t want this. Oh god. He didn’t want this …

… And my existence.

"I’m not so dumb to buy that excuse ..." She nearly laughed. “I know your silver tongue. I know what you are trying to--”

"All this time … all these years … I only saw it only through the eyes of the most damned … through their memories." It. Earth. Mankind. “Through the darkest and grossest souls that earned their way into my kingdom … through the most broken and despaired and evil. I knew I was seeing the worst of it and I understood that. I did have hope … but then I saw it through your eyes and ...”

"So it is my fault." Her face fell. “We both know I was never meant to belong to that world.” This smile was weak and disingenuous. “That’s on me … but not on it. That’s just evolution.”

The spark was now past his diaphragm and if he could move, he would have lunged forward, but the power had him and he was a prisoner to it. "Go now. Run. Leave me here … alone. As I’ve always been … as I was made … You don’t have to be here. Please. I don’t want you here. Not like this. This isn’t what I wanted … "

Between our essence ...

"You still don’t get it, you silly bean." She touched the very tip of his nose with right index finger and the simplest of gestures tore at him. She wasn’t afraid of him and it had been so long since anyone had treated him with such … equality and candor. “You’ve never been alone. Neither of us have.” She smiled again. This time genuine and his brows knit with confusion. “You didn’t have an other. You had four.” He shook his head, but offered no words to refute this claim. “And then you had five.”

Had. She was already speaking about herself in the past tense.

"I … You need to go … now." His rainbow eyes squinted in frustration. “Aurora, you have to--”

But she couldn’t and he knew that. They were tethered here together. If she went, so did he. And some small part of him accepted, that even if she could, she wasn’t going to leave him here … alone. "I’m not going anywhere."

… And our descent

"It’s too late, Aurora. I can’t stop it." He shook his head. His body heaving with deep, emotional breaths against her embrace. “I shouldn’t have … I so sorry. I was angry … I was …”

"I know."

"Nothing can survive this."

"You will survive." She nodded. “I don’t know where it will leave you. I’m sorry for that. I hope you find your way back home.”

"Please … go. At least try to go ..."

Falls her Shadow ...

"I can’t. There’s nowhere left ..." She held his shoulders, touching her forehead to his. Her connection to everything else was gone. She had pulled him along and severed everything else so that no one could follow.

"Aurora …" The chain reaction was still meandering slowly from his center but nothing would survive this. Just as he had shown her Raphael’s release in Sodom and Ammorah, she knew the cost.

The Confluence. The Prophet’s sight. And her soul. Everything that she was, everything that she felt, everything that she was, was here … with him.

For Thine is his Kingdom ...

She touched his chest, laying her palm across his sternum. "You didn’t need her, you know that right? I don’t know what will happen to you, but … you don’t need her to find happiness."

"And you didn’t need him." EL countered. The blast was nearly to his skin.

"No I didn’t … but damn did I love him …" That grin. It was half joy, half agony. She gripped his clenched hands. “If you find your way back … please tell him I was brave. Tell him …” And then she giggled. He couldn’t tell if this release was out of sadness or glory, but as she shut her eyes tight and opened them, he understood it was the latter. “Tell him … we’re even. He did the same to save me … didn’t he?”

"Aurora … I …" It was beyond the barrier of his skin now and she shuddered as it tore into her hands.

No. No. No. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t … this is the opposite of what he wanted …

He had no control over the spark. He had no control over his divinity, but he did have control of his mind and as the pain cracked her face and her body trembled further, he made a choice.

"This is the way this world ends …" She whispered. Her eyes pinched shut and she let go of her hold on time.

He reached out, in blind desperation at first, but then intimately and he tugged gently on the tiniest of threads that he found still waiting for him. Still open to him. After all this time. After everything he had done. He turned away from it long ago and he had never looked for it again. He had never even felt for it, but it was still there and his heart lurched at its presence.

He had vowed long ago he would never touch this thread again …

It was dangerous, because he would be raw. He would be open. Exposed. In all of his flaws, in all of his emotions, in all of his torments … There would be no hiding. He would never be free of it again if he tugged on that string.

This is the way his rule ends ...

And without hesitation or fear or resentment or delay, the Lightbringer reached out and rejoined the Nexus. For the first time in millenia upon millenia, the Traveller accepted his hand and his heart. Without remorse, without judgement, Lucifer fell into his brother’s outstretched arms and ascended again.

This is the way our world begins ...

In this vulnerable moment, EL chose something other than his anger … other than his revenge … other than his defiance … In this precious moment, EL chose something other than himself. He grab the thread with both hands and yanked it hard.

I have you ...

He cringed as Raphael’s arms wrapped around him and he breathed relief the instant the blast was entirely expelled from his spirit and he felt them being pulled from that place into something he had missed. Into something he had needed. Into something beautifully familiar.

I have you … both.

He whispered into him and EL tenses at his voice. He tried to pull back from his brother’s impending embrace. It was instinct. It was pure reaction. He had been alone for so long that he flinched at the contact of Raphael’s soul as it grazed against his own.

I have you … my little brother.

The Traveler gripped his brother’s head and pulled him closer. He would not permit the Lightbringer to pull away though Lucifer futilely pushed against his chest. Raphael’s hands were firm and unrelenting as he placed his temple against his brother’s.

… and I’m never letting go again.

Not with a bang

Lucifer’s hollowness filled as he accepted the embrace and returned it, his arms wrapping around Raphael’s torso, there was the tiniest of whimpers as he wept into his brother’s heaving chest.

… but a beautiful whimper.

David Becomes Goliath - Zack Hemsey

Her precious confluence. Her most beautiful creation …

If Lilith had time to mourn, she would have doubled forward and allowed the tears to flow, but she didn’t … Not now. Perhaps later … Perhaps she would cry later. Unlikely though. This was all part of her plan.

The Traveller snapped away and for the very briefest of moments, the Nexus was empty and Lilith knew she would only have one chance at catching this split second. Everything halted around her and she flexed her time bubble out and around the Marid king and the men behind them.

"Now?"

"Now. It is time to light it up, little kingling." She gave Deebaj a single nod and the blonde Djinn turned to face the massive door.

"Finally." He looked down at the pendant in his palm. “This better not kill me.” Deebaj quipped and breathed deeply as he gripped the tiny glass tube in his fist until the glass popped, piercing into his skin and the single drop of Lucifer’s blood mixed with his own. The power of the blood surged within him and his body burned at its contact. “Whoa …” This drop was the last thing she had of her Lightbringer. This drop, she had been saving for so long because a Mark of Power can only be subdued with the blood of a Hayyoth.

The glyphs on the door were Raphael’s masterpiece. An alarm system etched with such careful power that he would have felt even the slightest tampering. Its spider webs stretched into the Nexus itself and the Traveller would have felt even the slightest of tugs.

The door, the tomb, and the sarcophagus within were constructed by Ozryel. Stitched together with atoms so dense and tightly woven that even the strongest of men wouldn’t have been able to break through it in a thousand years.

But the heat from a Marid king was hot enough to melt even the Celestial Blade itself ...

He pushed a nervous palm against the tomb’s closed door and as the glyphs burned with light, bowing to the Hayyoth divinity that coursed through his trembling hand, the rock began to melt at his impressive intensity.

"Quickly! I cannot hold this forever!" She snapped her fingers once the door was a puddle on the ground and the men piled into the inner chamber before them. Setting up the metal harnesses around the massive coffin, they began to wrap, wedge, and lift it. Motorized winches were brought in, but she waved the king over. “Quickly!”

"You sure you don’t want me to just open it now?" Deebaj grinned and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t wanna give him a kiss?”

"No." Laying a palm against the sarcophagus lid, she smirked, tapping her finger tips against it. “Not yet. He needs to fall just a bit further still.”

But the men struggled to get the proper leverage on the multi-ton coffin and Deebaj stood idly, staring at his bloody hand as they finally began to lift it from its resting place.

"You are really going to just stand there?" She shook her hand at his laziness. “You are stronger than all of these men combined.”

The smiling Sun King leaned his back against the chamber wall and shrugged. His grin was as sinister as they came. How she hated it. How she hated him. "Come on now. You know I don’t like to get my hands dirty … unless there’s proper … reward." He gave her a wink and she hid her bubbling revulsion.

"Your hands already seem to be fairly dirty." She stared down at his blood palm and he fished a clean, white handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiping the dried blood away from his already healed skin.

"How did it feel?" She prodded though she already knew the feeling of that power coursing through one’s veins.

"Intoxicating.   Unlike anything I've ever felt ..." He admitted and then countered her previous statement. “You’re just as lazy … You aren’t exactly weak either.”

"Such a gentleman." Of all the Djinn kings she could have saddled herself with, she was most annoyed it had to be this one. In all the possibilities she had looked into, the other six kings would have all had a moral and ethical dilemma in standing against the Hayyoth and freeing Lucifer’s body, but Deebaj was as smarmy as they came and when he winked at her again, she looked forward to the end of their partnership.

"I didn’t hear you complaining about my manners last night … or the night before … or the night before that … or--"

"Enough!" Oooof. She rolled her eyes though he had a point. He was gifted in more ways than just making celestial fire. The sarcophagus swung wildly when a harness gave way under its weight as they were trying to guide it into the back of the awaiting truck. Deebaj moved instantly, gripping the corner before the entire thing slid out of the straps. A normal man would have been crushed.

"Fucking fools!" She bellowed and the men moved to re-secure the wayward strap. “What are we paying you for?!”

But it was done and secured. Deebaj offered her a hand to join him in the bed of the covered truck and she accepted. She pulled a tarp across her love’s prison and Deebaj slapped the side of the fabric.

"Lets go!"

The truck bounded along the desert and everything flowed again as she smiled and then laughed … and then cackled.

Sandalphon buckled when the Confluence snapped from existence. She wasn’t sure if it was her handle on the gears that made the sensation so unbearable, but she held them even as her body collapsed. Uriel was pulling her back to her feet before she realized what had happened.

"Andy! What the--"

"You asked why Dawn …" Her mind swam with stimuli. It beat down on her from all around. It was all new and strange and absolutely unknown. “Why her … because we needed a way to get a Hayyoth into the Confluence. But you see, it was only open to prophets.” Was. “But Hayyoth are connected to each other in such a uniquely fundamental way ... Their minds are woven together … we needed … someone who was both ...”

"Into the Confluence?! Why would you need to get a Hayyoth into …" He realized and his face fell with understanding.

"No matter what we did, Uriel. No matter what path we took … Lucifer was always going to pop."

"But ... the Confluence?" Uriel blinked. “That’s a hell of a price to pay.”

"You’re telling me?!" She snorted. “It had to be something.” Sandalphon closed her eyes and she felt the last fragments of its connection rip away from her mind. “It had to be somewhere.” The last vision from it was always the one she knew would happen. The last flash that she ever saw of the future was always Raphael. Smiling in pride as his arms collapsed down around both of them. “The Morning Star was always going to blow. He had grown too powerful.”

And then she remembered that first night on the small beach, sitting across the fire from her co-conspirator:

"You want to sacrifice the Confluence? You want to ... blind us all?"

"Would it be so bad?" Lilith’s smile was genuine and she took a deep breath. “When he asked me to blind him … when Adam begged me ...” She poked at the fire. “He cried, but when it was done and he laughed.” She looked up into the twilight sky. “I would rather be alive and blind, than nothing at all.”

"What did … he say it was like?" The Wheel’s curiosity piqued. “Not knowing … everything?”

"Freedom. Actual freedom. He said it was like … being born all over again." Lilith took a handful of the sand and let it slip from her grip in a steady stream back to the ground. “He said … you cannot understand wonder until you experience it … until you experience the unknown.”

The Morning Star’s throne room was exactly as Raum had imagined. Wicked and sinister. By design, no doubt. The grey granite walls had been carved to resemble the rib cage of a long and massive creature. Its bones curving around the room in an embracing fashion and its spine running along the ceiling before running down the far wall, directly behind the throne itself.

He wasn’t sure what the chair itself looked like, as the Morning Star covered it entirely from view. Red tendrils of threads erupted from every inch of his skin in lines down the sides of his body, head, arms, and legs. They connected to everything around them, overflowing the throne, running over and into the ground and ceiling. The glowing, living vines throbbed with a heartbeat of pulsating energy. Though Lucifer’s eyes remained closed, Raum dared not even utter a breath for fear his other senses might still be keen, his strigoi companions did not show as much caution.

"Whoa. Is that …?" Vaun asked from behind, the question trailing off but its subject was obvious and Raum nodded.

"Yuuuuup." Their eyes trailed the veins of light on his right side, as a hand full of them branched off and ran into something ominous looking carved directly into the wall. Almost nautical in design, a series of gears wound together and in the very center of it all, there was a wheel, no more than two feet in diameter, similar to that of a bulkhead door handle.

There was little doubt this was what they were here for and Raum took one step towards it before he heard and then saw Shaitan.

"I’ve been waiting for you, my most merciful brother." His identical twin greeted.

His younger brother, having been born second by only five seconds, stood at the large, round, broken window, exactly opposite the room from the throne. His hands clasped behind him as he stared down into the ensuing carnage below. His sword still securely sheathed at his side.

As he turned to face them, he smiled and Raum was thrown. It wasn’t a grin of challenge nor of animosity or even annoyance. He knew his brother and this was a smile of beautiful recognition and relief. "Tell me … Have you come to open or close the gate?" Both marid glanced at the controls on the far wall.

Raum hadn’t been entirely honest with the dhampir of his true plan concerning this very question. When he had actually voiced his intention, he was surprised when there was no push back from Vaun and the Sun Hunters. Quintus was right. They were good soldiers. And they understood the need for sacrifice in this instance. "After the boy is through, I plan to close the gate. Until then … we’ve come to make sure it remains open."

"Yes. Very good. That’s what I assumed." Shaitan nodded as he took a seat on the bottom of the circular window sill and placed his hands on top of the end of his broadsword’s hilt. “It’s just a spin of the wheel. Righty tighty. Lefty loosey. Or you can simply cut the lines of power, if you really want to close it quick and nasty.”

Built for This Time (Music Video Version) - Zayde Wolf

Standing there on the edge

Ain't scared of what’s ahead

Walking up like revenge

I was built for this time

Bleeding red like the sun

Taking over everyone

Watch me as I overcome

I was built for this time

"What’s your game, Shaitan." Raum pointed his sword and squinted. He was expecting a fight. He was expecting an argument. In fact, this was the very opposite of what he thought would occur. “Have you booby trapped it?”

"Booby trapped it?!" The Djinn nearly snorted as he scoffed at the accusation and stood. Everyone, including Raum, took a solid step back. “Psh. Please. Is that really what you think of me, Raumaniel?”

"I don’t know what to think of you anymore, but I don’t blame you for your corruption. Everything that has happened has been the fau--"

"If I had wished to move against you, brother, I would have done so the moment the boy cut his way out of Purgatory. Or perhaps the moment before he severed the Titan’s bonds ..." Raum’s left eye twitched and he kept a distance from his brother as the identical Marid approached him.

"What? What are you on about--"

"I knew the instant you escaped from Purgatory. I’ve been watching everything you’ve been up to ..." Shaitan waved an open hand towards a round table beside the throne, although “table” was the wrong word to adequately describe it. It was at least six inches thick and filled with clear, still liquid. A glow emanated from within it and Raum craned his head to the right as he glanced over.

"You knew?" Raum didn’t believe him. “You … knew … ? Bullshit.” He moved towards the device and looked down into it. It was a display of some kind. There was a series of boxes, each filled with a live view. One showed the Battle currently underway. Another, showed Purgatorium. Another, the Staircase. Tartarus. Prometheus’s cell. All of it. All of the places they had been. Raum touched the surface of water over one of them and the video rippled out to fully expand across the visible space. It was a close up of Quintus’ tear in Purgatorium. He was telling the truth. Shaitan had watched them escape. “Why … why didn’t you stop us?”

"Stop?" Shaitan chuckled at the thought of it. “I could have delayed at best. The boy already bested me once. With the Maiden and the Prophet Prime … and you … by his side … we could have merely slowed you at best. And what would have been the point?”

"You couldn’t have stopped us? Is that the only reason?" Raum knew it wasn’t. He watched his younger brother stare down into his empty hands and all pity he felt for him washed away with the gentlest of laughs that escaped Shaitan’s lips.

"I heard what the boy said. What Lucifer really intended to do. It is not freedom. He lied. I thought … all this time … I despised myself for what I had become … for what I had lost. For the reputation that I tarnished. For the damnation and the groveling and ... I thought … when I bowed to him, I had compromised everything I was … everything we were."

"Desperation makes fools of us all."

"No. You don’t understand." Shaitan smiled. “It was not desperation. It is destiny. My destiny. This is where I was always supposed to be.” The Djinn waved both hands, palm up, around him. “In this position of power. In this room. At this time. I was always supposed to be here. I knew it when I watched Humanis Prime talk the Basilisk Queen down … Nothing was what it seemed and this is where I was always meant to be. I was never forsaken. I was chosen by the Wheel, by Fate herself. She chose me for this task.”

"And what task is that?" Raum cautiously took a step forward, lowering his blade no more than an inch.

"To stand between them …" He glanced to the army below. “Between you …” He grinned at him. “... and him.” Shaitan cackled as he waved a hand towards the Morning Star. “This whole time … The Prophets knew … God knew … I was their inside man and I had no idea!” There was more he wasn’t saying and he closed the distance between his reluctant brother, pointing to the water screen. “You’ve missed the best part. May I?”

Raum looked down and touched the water again, reverting the screen back to the previous view and he stared at all the tiny windows. Shaitan reached forward, across his brother, slowly at first as their eyes met and Raum’s tension abated. The Djinn touched one of the many staircase views, maximizing it to the view port. The video had been speeding along, but slowed to read time once maximized.

"What is that?" Raum’s curiosity piqued and his sword fully lowered as his eyes grew wide. The staircase was full of people, shuffling quickly along. “What the fuck is that?”

"Adam." Shaitan laughed again. Genuine and pure. His tongue flicked against his fang as he exited the view and touched another tiny box. It was a small chamber, filled with a brilliant light and Adam was rushing people into the stream. “He has emptied Purgatory.”

"But why … What is that?" Raum tilted his head. “What is--”

"Gentlemen … ?" Vaun said lowly from behind, but the brothers ignored, carrying on their much needed conversation.

"Home, brother." Shaitan gripped Raum’s shoulder and squeezed it. Relief. Love. Hope. “That is our way home. It leads to Heaven.”

"Gentlemen … ?"

"That son of a bitch …" Raum’s upper lip curled and his nostrils flared as he stared at the prophet shuffling along the line of people. Raum turned towards the large, broken window and flicked a hand towards it and the battle ensuing below. “Then what the fuck was that all about?! If we could have just--”

"Sir … Sirs?"

"A beautiful distraction … of sorts. A very clever sleight of hand." Shaitan stated the fact simply.

"But … why? Why do they matter?" Raum pointed to the people of purgatory.

"Before Michael faltered, Lucifer originally planned to destroy the gate."

"That’s not possible. That gate is indestructible. It was made by God himse-"

"We’ve both seen the destruction Ozryel is capable of with one single soul. Imagine the scale of that … for hundreds of thousands. For millions."

"Jesus … He was going to … destroy them all?" Raum shook his head at the thought of such an act.

"Was? If he doesn’t get his way, I’ve no doubt he’ll--"

"SIRS!"

Raum swung around with absolute annoyance. He would have demanded a reason for the interruption, but none of the Sun Hunters, including Vaun, were looking at the Marid. Their eyes were locked onto the throne as Lucifer’s fingers had begun to twitch.

"Shit." The whispered word escaped Raum’s lips and no one moved a muscle. “Is that supposed to happen?”

It was just the very tips of his fingers. Once, twice, three times and then entire digits began to move. Then his face. His mouth opened first and his jaw flexed.

"Shaitan … ?" Lucifer’s voice was groggy and dry; everyone glanced at each other. “Shaitan …”

"Sir." The Djinn stepped forward and Lucifer’s eyes cracked open briefly but then shut again, the light seeming to be painful.

"Is …" He cleared his throat and the tendrils began to move, just slightly as the Morning Star gained his bearings. He swallowed hard. “... is the gate still open?”

"The gate, Sir?" Shaitan glanced at his brother and both Djinn shrugged to each other as Raum raised his blade, but Shaitan pushed it down shaking his head as if he was mad. What should they do?

"YES. THE GATE. IS IT STILL OPEN?!" Lucifer’s hoarse voice forced the question out thick with desperation.

"Yes, sir." Shaitan answered and he flicked his head towards the door, instructing them to leave, to sneak away, but Raum shook his head. There was no way they were leaving him to close the gate.

"Help me up … please … help me to the gate …" Lucifer tried to open his eyes again, but pinched them shut and the tendrils that held his body began to slowly pull back into his form. “We’re leaving …”

"S-s-s-sir? Leaving? Your … body? Why are you back? The woman--"

"She’s a sneaky little thing, but I haven’t lost shit yet ... she’s weak now. She won’t be able to resist me again." A sinister smile spread across his face and Raum’s heart pounded at the words. No. “‘Sides, I don’t need a body to control the army.” No. “Get me to the gate … Quickly. Before my brother can close it again …” The tendrils continued to retract from the throne and the ceiling and the floor as the Morning Star pulled himself back together.

The Djinn exchanged glances as the situation took a sharp turn. He had come to ensure his brother did not close the gate on the escaping force below, but they could not allow the Morning Star the same freedom. Both Marid glanced back at the gate controls and the lines of power that flowed up from it.

"Shaitan? Did you hear me?" Lucifer coughed. “Shaitan …?”

Raum stepped towards the gate control. A single nod from Shaitan and a single nod from Vaun. He needed their consent for what his next action meant for everyone in this room and everyone in battle below, for the fate he was resolving them all to.

Before he swung his blade through the pipes of coursing power, severing the gate’s mechanism and power, closing it the "quick and dirty" way, Raum pinched his eyes shut the moment the Morning Star fully opened his.

"Noooooo!"

[all-the-love-harold]

Paris in October - Part 2

Find Part One Here xx 

“Holy hell Suze, you’ll never guess who I just met in Paris!!!”

“It’s not Mike is it? He didn’t fly over there to win you, back did he?”

“No, he was the one that broke up with me remember”

“Good, because you’re too good for him anyway”

“You’re missing the point! Guess who was staying in the room next door to mine last night”

“Idk, some hot French guy”

“He’s not French, he’s British”

“Am I supposed to know who he is?”

“Yeah, he’s famous and you love him”

“Can’t be that famous if he’s staying in the same hotel as you”

“Hey, Mike payed for it, and he never cancelled it so here I am, in a fancy hotel”

“Who is it then?!!!”

“GUESS!!”

“Give me a hint!”

“You share a birthday with him, he’s in a boyband you used to have his name in your Instagram bio”

“OMG NO FUCKING WAY”

“NO, YOU’RE NOT STAYING NEXT DOOR TO HARRY STYLES”

“THAT JUST CANNOT BE TRUE”

“It’s true, I was out on my balcony this morning eating my breakfast and he heard my music playing and came an introduced himself”

“He invited me to his show tonight, he’s having a car pick me up at 6”

“OMG!”

“What are you going to wear?!?!”

“I don’t know if I should go casual or fancy”

“Somewhere in the middle”

“I’m going shopping, I’ll send you photos of things I find, and you can tell me what to do”

“Keep me updated!”

Part of you couldn’t believe that this was really happening, while it had never really been a dream of yours to have anything to do with Harry Styles, you really loved his music, and having the chance to see him in concert was going to be great. After spending the whole morning shopping with absolutely no luck, you had come back to try on thousands of different outfits and had thrown clothes all over the room before you finally found something that was somewhere in between casual and fancy that you felt comfortable in.

Just as you started to tidy your room up again, you heard a knock on your door, confused by who it could possibly be, you checked yourself in the mirror, making sure you looked presentable, and answered, only to find Harry waiting on the other side

“Hi Love, you weren’t out on your balcony, so I figured you’d be inside unless you’d gone out for the day”

“I’m still here” you laughed, looking over your shoulder to make sure there was no underwear in his line of vison.

“Just wanted to let you know, there’s a car coming for you at 6, reception will call your room when it gets here, and it will take you to the back entrance of the venue and someone from my team will meet you there and show you to my dressing room where me and the band will be until we go on at 9”

“That sounds great! Can I bring anything?”

“Just your pretty little face is enough” flashing that smile of his at you again, making you blush

“I think I can remember that”

“I hope so, I’ve got to get going now, but I’ll see you later”

“Bye Harry” you waved good bye watching him walk down the hallway a little before closing the door behind him.

***

As the afternoon went on you started to get a little nervous, trying anything to keep you distracted until it was time to leave. You had no idea what Harry wanted out of this and you found it hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if he was just incredibly charming. Either way, you were happy to go along with it and see what happens, if nothing else it was chance to see some of your favourite music live, something that you rarely got to do back home.

6 O’clock rolled around and you were ready to go when your room phone rang to let you know that the car was ready and waiting downstairs. You grabbed your bag and touched up your lipstick one last time before making sure that you had your room key to get back in after the show and headed down stairs.

Harry had gone all out on the car, when you got in there was a glass of champagne waiting for you with a hand-written note next to it

“Enjoy the ride through Paris, can’t wait to see you. Love. H x”

You took a sip of the champagne, and rested your head on the window, watching as the city passed you by, you weren’t entirely sure where you were going but you were happy to see the sights out your window. The drive was much shorter than you had expected and before you knew it the door was being opened for you and you were greeted by a man named Jeff

“Hi Y/N, I’m Harry’s manager, Jeff, he’s waiting for you in his dressing room” he said ushering you into the venue, scanning the area to make sure no fans saw you going in

“Hello!” you greeted him nervously, wishing it was Harry that had met you at the door, but understanding that that would probably have caused chaos. “So does he do this often?” you asked as Jeff lead you down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to where Harry and the band were hanging out before the show

“What? Invite girls that he’s met on hotel balconies to his shows?”

“Yeah”

“It’s not something I’ve ever known him to do, and I’ve known him for a few years now, he hasn’t stopped talking about you since we got here”

You smiled at the idea of him talking about you, as Jeff opened the door to the dressing room, showing you in

“Y/N!” Harry exclaimed, getting up to greet you his face beaming at the sight of you “You look wonderful” he said wrapping his arms around you, embracing you in the warmest hug you’ve ever had

“Thanks” you said quietly, very aware that there were four other people in the room that you hadn’t met but assumed they were his band

“Are you going to introduce us or are we just background noise now that balcony girl is here” sounded a voice from the couch

“Sorry, Y/N this is Adam” he said pointing to the man that just spoke “and that’s Clare next to him”

“Hiya! It’s lovely to meet you” she said

“You too”

“And over there is Mitch and Sarah, they’re totally in love so avert your eyes if you’re not a fan of PDA” he chuckled

“We’re not as bad as he makes it sound, he’s just lonely” Sarah countered back, making Mitch giggle but remain silent otherwise, flashing you a polite smile before returning to quiet conversation with Sarah

Harry brushed her comments off without much of a thought “How was the drive?”

“It was beautiful, I really do love this city”

“Did you get my note?”

“I did, and the champagne was lovely too”

“Can I get you another?”

“I’m alright for now, I might have one later”

“How about food? Have you eaten? There’s food down the hall if you want any”

“I’m all good Harry, I ordered room service while I was getting ready” You could tell he was nervous, but you guessed it was because he was about to perform in front of a large crowd and Suze had told you that this was his first show on the European leg of the tour, which you assumed added to the nerves.

“Organised, I like it, let me show you around then” opening the door and showing you out

“Where are we going”

“Doors are about to open, we’re going to watch everyone come in”

“Like on stage?”

He laughed “No, that would cause a riot, we’ll be able to see from the side of the stage, but they won’t be able to see us.” His hand brushed against your own as he spoke, and eventually he took hold of it, and leading you down the hallway, hand in hand.

“That seems a bit cruel” you laughed

“Feeds my ego” he said as you reached the side of the stage, you could hear the fans and you could feel the excitement in the air, watching them run to the barriers, reminded you of when you had been to Ed Sheeran and waited out in the heat just to get close to the front, only to get pushed back right before he came out, and you were glad to be watching from the side of stage this time.

“Have you ever done that?” You asked, curious to know more about him

“When I was younger, before all this happened” He gestured around the room “Never got close to the front though, my Mum would never let me get there early enough, you?”

“Once, For Ed Sheeran, me and my friends waited out all day, I got sunburnt through my clothes and then once we got in there was a massive thunderstorm and we all got rained on, but it was worth it, one of the best nights of my life”

“Ed puts on a great show and I think he would be impressed that you got sunburnt through your clothes”

“I was pretty impressed myself” you giggled and Harry smiled down at you, glad to have you there, even if he had only met you that morning. MUNA appeared from the hallway, looking like they were ready to go onstage

“We better go” Harry said, “Let them warm up, we’ll come back and watch when they’re on” he turned around and smiled at MUNA, high fiving all of them “Smash it girls, get them pumped”

He grabbed your hand again and lead the way back to the dressing room, where you spent the next hour laughing and joking with Harry and the band. This was the first time since Mike had broken up with you that you hadn’t thought about having him there with you, you finally felt free.

8:45 rolled around and Harry was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt and the band was still in their casual clothes too.

“H, would you please go and see hair and make now please, you should be dressed already” Jeff came in, looking stressed, needing Harry to get a move on so he would be on stage on time. “Y/N you can come up to the balcony with me and we’ll watch from up there”

“Sorry love, got a show to put on” he said placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before heading off to get ready

You, Jeff and a few other members of the crew were watching from the upper balcony. You could finally see what Suze had been raving about for years, Harry was a true performer, he drew the crowd in from the second that curtain dropped and it was truly magical to witness his music live. Throughout the show, he kept looking up to where you stood and smiling, you were sure he couldn’t see you but the thought of him looking for you in the crowd made you feel all kinds of things that you hadn’t felt in years.

Just as he was finishing his final song, Jeff tapped you on the shoulder, “let’s go stage side so we can meet him when he comes off.” So you followed him back down to the stage where you had seen the fans rush in just a few hours ago, and met a very sweaty and adrenaline filled Harry

“That was incredible Harry, thanks for making me come”

“Thanks for being here love, I’m glad you enjoyed it, lets go sit down, I’m exhausted” he exhaled and put his arm around your shoulder. You were enjoying all the physical contact, something about Harry was extremely comforting and having his arm around you felt like the most natural thing in the world. You made you way back his dressing room and sat down on the big couch that Mitch and Sarah were sitting on when you arrived. Harry grabbed two glasses and filled them with champagne, handing you one and sitting down next to you.

“I could see you up there, you looked like you were having a good time”

“I had a wonderful time, I loved your cover of The Chain, that’s been one of my favourite songs ever since I was little”

“Me too, it’s a classic. How long do you have left of your trip?”

“Two weeks”

“In Paris?”

“Yeah, my ex booked the trip, and I think he cancelled most of the fun stuff we had booked, because I have nothing left to do”

“What a dick, ever been to London?”

“Not unless you count Heathrow airport on the way here”

“Funnily enough I don’t” he chuckled, “If you’ve had enough of Paris, why don’t you come back to London with me?”

“I don’t know Harry” you took a sip of your champagne, which you were sure was worth more than you earnt in a day “I only just met you”

“I really like you Y/N, I know we only met today, but this can’t be the last time I see you, come back to London with me, I’ll make this the romantic trip you had planned, it will just be in London instead”

“I really shouldn’t”

“You’re right, you probably shouldn’t but life’s too short play it safe all the time”

“That reminds me a lot of something my best friend used to tell me all the time when were in high school”

“And what was that exactly”

You blushed a little “Life’s too short to pretend not to like Harry Styles”

He laughed loudly and took a sip of champagne “She’s right, take her advice and come back to London with me”

“I guess I don’t really have a choice now do I?”

“Not really love”

Well that was part two! I hope you enjoyed it. It took me a lot longer to write than I expected it to but I’m really happy with it. Feel free to send me any ideas that you have for the next part, if there’s anything you’d love to see happen let me know! 

I’ve already started writing part three so it shouldn’t be more than a few days away, but in the mean time I will probably write some little blurbs so send your requests for those in too! 

Master list 

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [38/40]

A/N: Next update is scheduled for April 26th. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Thirty-Seven – Pushed Away

 Whatever Otabek had expected Yuri to say, that clearly had not been it.

Otabek's mouth fell open, and he stared at Yuri with wide eyes of shock, like the omega had suddenly slapped him across the face. He looked hurt, and Yuri could see Otabek mounting his defences in his dark gaze, shutting down before Yuri could elaborate on why he wanted to know, or why Otabek needed to talk about it.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, his voice emotionless—dead, but laced with warning. “Why do you care?”

“I care because I love you,” Yuri replied as he sat up, and reached for Otabek's hands, but he jerked back as though he'd been burned. “And I don't want to know to laugh at you, or...or to make you feel bad. Beka, you've locked this all up, and it's poison. If you don't let it out, it will totally destroy you.

“Bullshit,” Otabek growled, “I'm fine, Yura. I need to be strong, and I need to take care of you and our child, I don't have time to share my damn feelings—”

“We have all the time in the world!” Yuri countered, his voice jumping up in his frustration, but careful to keep it as low as possible, to avoid waking Alvinia. “Beka, you and I have no jobs, and five nannies at our disposal. We have plenty of time to talk this over, and I'm sorry if you think I'm being an ass, but you need to talk about this. You're not being a strong or brave alpha by bottling this all up, you're just ruining yourself. Do you even remember what happened when we were first reunited? You were a total wreck.”

“And you think that talking and sharing is some magical cure that will make me all better?” Otabek scoffed nastily, and Yuri winced at his cutting tone, but refused to back down. “When did you turn into such an airy-fairy granola?”

“When did you turn into such a defensive asshole?” Yuri demanded angrily, “Beka, I'm not stupid, I know that talking it out won't solve everything, but it's a start. You can't be all that you need to be with this massive dark cloud in your head. You've done everything that you need to do to be a good alpha, a good mate, and a good father...please, just let me help this time—let me in.”

“No, I can't,” Otabek replied as he jerked away from Yuri and stood up. “Don't you understand that? I can't.”

Without another word Otabek swept towards the bedroom door and left Yuri alone, shutting it behind him with a loud slam that woke Alvinia with a startled cry.

Yuri moved quickly to her bassinet and scooped his daughter up, rubbing her back consolingly while he tried to hold back his own tears.

“It's okay, my baby,” Yuri whispered softly, “it's okay, your Äke isn't gone, he just stepped out for a minute...”

Yuri hated how hard he found this to believe, and when he blinked his tears trickled down his cheeks, dampening his daughter's tuft of dark hair.

 ~*~

 Yuri did not see Otabek for a few days. He knew that he was still around the house—he could hear the low thrum of his voice as he spoke with the others, and he could smell his distinct alpha scent. However, Otabek seemed to have mastered the art of avoiding Yuri, and he never saw him.

During that time, Alvinia was even more fussy than usual. At night, she never slept for more than an hour or two at a time, and Yuri felt like he was spending most of his time trying to console her, rather than anything else. When she woke screaming in the middle of the night, she wasn't hungry, she didn't need her diaper changed, she just wanted one thing, ironically, the same thing that Yuri wanted—Otabek.

 “He's just a little hurt, Yuri,” Yuuri said comfortingly as they walked through the local farmer's market, Yuuri pushing a three-child stroller with his girls, and Yuri pushing a single with his week-old daughter inside. “I think you pushed a little too hard, and now he's just...” Yuuri trailed off, and offered his companion a sad sort of smile.

“I just wanted to help,” Yuri mumbled as they stopped at an ice-cream stand, and got a pair of cones. Yuuri chose bittersweet chocolate, and Yuri selected a mango sorbet. They continued on until they hit the boardwalk, and sat down with their children and treats at a bench, and watched the water quietly for a few minutes.

“I know you wanted to help,” Yuuri finally said as he dipped his finger in the chocolate, and offered a little to Yuriko, who did not seem to like the sharp taste of the dark chocolate very much, if the way she scrunched up her little face was any indication. “But I think you pushed too hard. He's been talking with Viktor a lot, and he's just...hurt.”

“I just wanted to help,” Yuri repeated as he stared down at his melting cone, and took a bite out of it. It was sweet, but not cloyingly so. If he wasn't mistaken, he could taste honey mixed in with the fruit, but he wasn't sure. “I knew things were bad for him, but...” Yuri trailed off, and shook his head with a soft, defeated sigh.

“I think you need to let him come to you, and tell you in his own time,” Yuuri said as he rested a consoling hand on Yuri's knee. A seagull landed on the boardwalk's rail and squawked at them, but took off almost immediately when the triplets began to squeal excitedly and reach for it.

“I guess I was too impatient,” Yuri replied as he watched the gull take off, “I just...” Yuri shook his head; repeating himself wouldn't do any good.

“Talking about it would help him, but right now he's probably still coming to terms with all that's happened—he might not even remember lots of it.”

“What? Why not?”

“Otabek's not like you, Yuri,” Yuuri replied as he broke into the side of his waffle cone, crunching on it loudly, “You're tough—you're really tough. You lived a rough life, and you learnt early on how to cope with it. Otabek never had to do that. He and Viktor...they had charmed lives; golden goose and silver spoon in their mouths, or whatever the phrase is. Anyway, Otabek experienced something really, really horrible, and he had no tools to cope with it, he had no idea how, so he just pushed it all down, and now you're asking him to drag it all back to the surface. Can you even imagine how scary that must be for him?”

“I...never thought about it that way,” Yuri mumbled, and hung his head. “What am I supposed to do now? Apologize? He's completely avoiding me.”

“I'll ask Viktor to talk to him, maybe that will convince him to come see his daughter, at least,” Yuuri replied with a small, sad smile. “But don't push. He'll tell you what happened when he's ready to—or if he ever is.”

“I screwed everything up,” Yuri said, his voice breaking a little, “things were so perfect, and I had to go and...” he broke off with a shaky, sad sigh, and shook his head.

“You didn't screw everything up,” Yuuri replied in a comforting tone, but firmly at the same time. “You were right in thinking that Otabek needs to talk about it to free himself of the memories, but you're also asking him to dredge everything to the surface again. He's got his bullheaded, Alphas-Need-To-Take-Care-Of-Things-Themselves mentality working against him, and he just doesn't understand how sharing his burden is helpful, not hurtful. You just need to give him some time. Enjoy Alvinia, bask in the wonders of new parenthood, get some real sleep...and let him come to you when he's ready.”

“I was with you until get some real sleep,” Yuri teased, and Yuuri laughed.

“We have a milk pump somewhere, I'll show you how to use it, and you can crash for a few hours,” Yuuri offered, “and we'll take care of our niece if she gets hungry. If nothing else, it'll help you think a little more clearly.”

“I'll think about it,” Yuri replied as he bit into the side of his cone, and reached down with his free hand to brush his fingers across Alvinia's forehead. “The idea of leaving her with other people, even if it's you guys, is still a little weird for me.”

“I know, Yuri, it's a New Mom thing, I was the same way with the girls. I'd freak if I couldn't see them at all times.” Yuuri paused to pop the rest of his cone into his mouth, looking like some sort of rabbit with the cone poking out between his lips as he munched on it, and began to speak again once he'd swallowed. “But you can't be everything that Alvinia needs if you're running on fumes, you know? No pressure, but think it over. We can even keep Alvinia in your room until you nod off, then bring her downstairs while you rest.”

“I don't know if that'd work,” Yuri replied with a weak laugh, “knowing you guys planned to take her away the second I nodded off...I have a feeling it'd have the opposite effect.”

“Fair,” Yuuri agreed with a laugh of his own, “to be honest, I think I'd be the same if I was in your shoes. We'll think of something, though, we always do.”

 Yuri and Yuuri made it home in the early afternoon so that their kids could have their naps. Alvinia was already fussing, and when they pulled into the driveway Yuri nearly sang his relief. If he was being completely honest, he could do with a nap himself after his and Yuuri's tough conversation earlier that day.

“All right,” Yuuri proclaimed as he pocketed the car keys and offered his fellow omega a smile, “let's get these little beasts inside for some snacks and nap-naps.”

Yuri snorted at Yuuri's word-choice, but nodded as he circled to the back and unbuckled Alvinia from her car seat while Yuuri unloaded the triplets' stroller from the trunk.

“Need help?” Yuri asked as he gathered his daughter up, and Yuuri shook his head.

“You go on ahead—you've got a fussy one there. I'll be right behind you.”

Yuri nodded and turned with Alvinia in his arms, who was whining, but not really crying yet, and headed for the door.

“We're back,” Yuri called as he stepped in, lifting his knee on impulse to stop Makkachin from bowling him over, while Potya meowed and wound around his ankles. Viktor hopped up from the sofa and ran over to pull Makkachin away by his collar while he offered Yuri a small smile.

“Welcome home,” he said, “where's Yuuri?”

“Outside,” Yuri replied while Potya continued to rub up against his ankles. “He was still getting the stroller out of the trunk when I headed in—this one's a little cranky.”

As if on cue, Alvinia opened her mouth and began to wail.

“I'll be back,” Yuri said with an apologetic look over his daughter's crying, and stepped around the cat as he headed upstairs with his child, rubbing her back as he went, but her crying didn't stop. He groaned a little, but continued to coo at her as he held her close, heading into her nursery to sit down in his rocking chair and offer her a feed, which did nothing to quiet her cries.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Yuri murmured as he brought her back up to his shoulder, and slipped back into his and Otabek's bedroom. “Just have a nice nap, for me? Your Mat` would love a nice nap...”

Alvinia continued to cry loudly, while Yuri checked her diaper—dry—and tried to feed her again, with no results. Yuri almost felt like crying himself as he paced in his room, humming tunelessly to her while he rubbed her back for close to twenty minutes, when he heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” Yuri called, and to his astonishment, in stepped Otabek.

“Speaking to me again, are you?” Yuri asked coldly over Alvinia's screaming, and Otabek hung his head.

“I heard Alvinia crying,” he explained, “can I help?”

Under normal circumstances, Yuri may have refused out of spite, but he was so desperate to get her to stop crying that he was willing to do just about anything, not that he would make it easy for Otabek in the process.

“Amazing, really,” Yuri said scathingly as he held out the child to him, “she needs to scream her head off to get you to give a damn.”

Otabek frowned at Yuri, but didn't answer as he accepted the wailing child, and pulled her close. He rubbed her back as she cried, and after a moment, Otabek opened his mouth, and he began to sing.

“Awılım köşip baradı Almalığa,

Kim könbeydi tağdırdıñ salğanına (-ay-aaw)

Körmegeli köp aydıñ jüzi boldı,

Ata-anamnıñ xabarın almağalı (-ay-aaw)

Äy-äy, böpem,

Keyin qalğan elimdi

Körer me ekem (aaw)...”

Otabek continued to sing, His voice soft and smooth, the words—Kazakh, presumably—made no sense to Yuri, but it was clearly a lullaby of some kind. Alvinia seemed to like it too, as she settled in Otabek's arms, and let out a little sigh as she quieted down, then fell asleep.

Yuri sat down heavily on the end of the bed, and watched Otabek carry Alvinia over to her bassinet and set her down. When he turned back around, Yuri opened his mouth to speak.

“Beka—”

“Yura—” Otabek said at the same time.

“Sorry,” Yuri replied as he laughed weakly. “Um, you first.”

“I'm sorry for what I said to you—all of it. I just...I was...”

“...scared?” Yuri offered, and with a wince, Otabek nodded.

“I'm sorry too,” Yuri said with a small sigh, and stood up, moving towards Otabek, and took one of his hands. “I shouldn't have pushed so hard, but I'm just worried about you. You don't need to be Mister Alpha Protector all the time. Sometimes it's okay to let people in.”

“No, you're right,” Otabek replied with a grimace, “I was stupid. I avoided you and slept in the guest room for a whole week because I couldn't deal with what I went through...”

“Beka, you went through something huge, and I didn't get that you needed to tell me in your own time—”

“But I should trust you more,” Otabek interrupted, his voice laced with guilt, “and I should have let you in—”

Yuri opened his mouth to speak, then closed it almost at once as he offered Otabek a small, amused smile.

“So,” Yuri hedged, “are we gonna at least agree that we're both assholes?”

“Sounds about right,” Otabek replied, and opened his arms to Yuri. Yuri launched himself at his alpha, and Otabek held him close as he pressed a kiss to his temple, then his lips. “Yura...I'm so sorry.”

Yuri felt the proverbial dam break, and with a soft whimper he hugged Otabek close. The alpha chuckled softly as Yuri wept into his shoulder, holding tight to him, trailing a hand up and down his back while he pulled Yuri down onto the bed, allowing the omega to rest against him.

Yuri hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep, but when Yuri next woke it was dark outside, and Alvinia was—amazingly—still asleep in her bassinet. Otabek was holding him and stroking his hair, certifying to Yuri that he had not imagined their reconciliation, and it had really happened.

“Hey,” Yuri said groggily, and Otabek smiled at him.

“Hey,” he replied, and leant in for a kiss, one which Yuri happily returned.

“What time is it?” he asked as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, while Otabek followed his movements in order to keep his arms around his omega.

“Almost eleven,” he replied, “you slept for about nine hours.”

“And Alvinia?” Yuri asked as he gazed over at his little girl, “she didn't sleep the whole way through, did she?”

“No,” Otabek said with a soft chuckle, “She woke up a few times, but I took care of things so you wouldn't wake up. I'm sorry, Yura, for leaving you alone...especially when I promised that I wouldn't.”

Yuri opened his mouth to respond, confused as to why Otabek would apologize for leaving Yuri alone for a few minutes at a time to take care of their child, when after a half beat he realized that the alpha meant over the past week.

“It's okay,” Yuri replied with a vague shrug. “I mean...it's not okay, but it's okay. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Otabek replied with a soft chuckle, then his expression abruptly shifted from warm to uncertain, as quickly as flicking a switch. “Um, Yura...would you mind coming outside with me? I want to talk to you, but I don't want to wake Alvinia. We can bring the baby monitor in case she wakes up.”

Yuri's immediate gut reaction was to protest—leaving Alvinia alone was still difficult for him. However, something in Otabek's soft and vulnerable expression gave Yuri the impression that whatever it was was important, and not something that they could put off.

“Yeah, okay,” Yuri replied after a short pause. “Can we bring the blanket out with us?”

“Sure,” Otabek said as he smiled faintly, and took Yuri by the hand, helping him to his feet before he stripped the comforter off the bed. Otabek carried it folded over one arm, while he led Yuri with the other, stopping just long enough for his omega to set up the baby monitor before he let Otabek lead the way out of the room.

They made their way down the stairs silently, stopping in the living room when Makkachin hopped down from the sofa where Minami and Phichit were curled up together watching TV, and bounced over to them, his mouth open in a wide doggie smile.

“Shh, Makkachin,” Yuri whispered when he began to whine and jump at them. “You'll wake the whole house up.”

“Makka!” Phichit called softly, and whistled. “Come back over here, you were keeping our feet nice and warm!”

“Go on, Makkachin,” Yuri said as he nudged the dog with his foot, “you're not coming with us.”

Makkachin whined, and Yuri gave him another nudge while Phichit called for him again, and finally the dog turned away and trotted back over to Phichit and Minami, curling up at the end of the sofa once more.

“I guess you two are talking again?” Minami asked as they approached the sofa, and Yuri smiled meekly as he glanced over to Otabek.

“Something like that,” Yuri replied, then fingered a wave at the couple as he turned and led his mate outside, and the porch light immediately switched on.

“Damn, hang on...” Otabek said as he dumped the blanket on the porch swing, and hurried back inside. Yuri set down the baby monitor on one of the little outdoor tables while he waited, and jumped a little in surprise when the light suddenly flicked off, and plunged him into semidarkness.

Yuri shifted uncomfortably, memories of his time at the Retraining Centre floating to the surface of his mind immediately. They were held at bay by the fact that it was not pitch-black—the lights from inside of the house painted the deck with squares of yellow light, the crescent moon refracted off the lake, and in the distance, Yuri could see tiny pinpricks of light, like stars, from the houses across the water.

“Not back, I'm not back at that place, I can see,” Yuri whispered to himself, and smiled a little when Otabek stepped back onto the deck, holding a citronella candle inside some sort of lantern in his hands.

“I'm sorry,” Otabek said as he got closer, “I forgot about the darkness thing, and I brought this back, for mosquitoes and for light. Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Yuri replied, and offered him a small smile, “I can see you, so it's good. Why don't we get comfortable, and we can talk?”

“Okay,” Otabek said, his voice dropping in volume and seeming to weaken, making it sound as though it wasn't okay at all. Yuri nodded once, guessing that the response was out of nerves, rather than reluctance, and moved to set down the candle next to the baby monitor while Yuri took to the task of straightening out the blanket they'd brought before the pair settled down side-by-side, wrapped the blanket around them, and eased back against the rocking porch seat together.

“This is nice,” Otabek offered after a moment of silence, “we haven't been able to do something like this...well, ever.”

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed as he leant against Otabek's side, “I guess...well, things have been a bit chaotic up 'til now.”

“Yeah,” Otabek replied as he coiled an arm around Yuri's shoulders to draw him closer, and took a small breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I think...I think I can do this,” Otabek said, and Yuri raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Tell you, I mean.”

“Tell me...oh.” Yuri's eyes widened a little. “Are you sure? I mean, after what you said last time...”

“No,” Otabek interrupted, his voice a little harsher than normal. “I want to—I need to. This will help, right? Everyone's said so, so...I'll tell you, but you need to listen, okay? I only want to tell this story once, then it's over—finished. I don't want to say it twice.”

“Yeah,” Yuri replied as he mirrored Otabek, and wrapped an arm around him. “Whenever you're ready.”

“Okay,” Otabek said again, and relaxed a little as he turned to Yuri, and began to speak.

A/N: The song in this chapter was called Ay Ay Böpem, or Hey Hey Baby in English. According to my research, it's a traditional Kazakh lullaby. The stanza in this chapter says, “My village is moving to Amali/Who does not give up to what fate prepared/It has been many months that I haven't seen and heard any news from my parents/Hey, hey my baby/My land that was left behind/Will I see it?” This translation is a little jumbled and awkward, but I hope that it makes sense ^^;

If you like my work, consider throwing a few bucks in my Digital Tip Jar, every penny is appreciated!

NLMG Masterpost

[justc4llm3murphy]

Today, I was truly frightened

Ever wonder what you would really do if a patient attacked you? Sure, we all might have ideas on what we’d do, but -much in the same way that we thought we would know what we would do when we grew up- we really don’t know what we would do until we are faced with the situation. In Emergency Medicine, some part of me believes assault is an inevitable occurance. The vast amount of people we see, the vast amount of people to whom we refuse narcotics, the amount of crises we see, the amount of people we give soul crushing news to....it seems more than likely you will meet at least one person who will lash out at the most immediate person - and as the nurse, that person is more than likely you. Today, I got a glimpse into that piece of myself. Today, for the first time in my life, I was worried about my immediate safety. The story has a good outcome for me because I am typing this message. But this is a story of how fast things change in the Emergency Department.

So anyways....

My coworker who had the zone neighboring mine received a patient who was vomiting, drunk, and possibly defecating on himself. I could smell him far before I could see him and counted my lucky stars that he was hers and not mine, because after the week I’ve had, I had no will to deal with that drama. So, I go about my work and taking care of one of my critical patients.

I return to my patient’s room some time later to fix his IV pump alarm, answer his questions, counsel him on realistic expectations of his condition, and update him on his plan of care. It was a difficult conversation to have, dashing some hope of turning dead tissue to live tissue again; but it was a calm and caring conversation. Those patients always make me a little sad. The shock and realization of the seriousness of the issue is a bit difficult to see on their faces and to know you are the one to put it there. You want to offer something to take that look away but you can’t promise anything...because ultimately you do not know the outcome. So, I left the room with that on my mind, speaking some parting words before closing the curtain, and turning around...and there he was.

He stood there in the middle of the hall, covered in vomit, flat affect, and staring at me intensely. In that moment, he was all I could focus on. The way his eyes zeroed in on me, I couldn’t look away. It reminds me of how a murderer in a film would stand, covered in the blood of his or her victim, completely snapped from reality. His eyes revealed no recognition, no apparent thoughts that I was his nurse....simply that I was there. “Uh...” I started to say as he shuffled to me quickly. By the time I had finished that word, he was within 10 inches of me, looking down. I had raised my hands, ready to push him away, by instinct. Then, a stern - slightly worried - “no!” Escaped unbidden from my mouth. And while I can recall this second in excruciating detail, it was just that - one second that went unnoticed by everyone. Surrounded by people and yet very alone. One second that could have had a massive impact to me.

He stopped advancing and turned, shuffling back to his room. There was no look of recognition that he had scared me, just the same flat affect. My heart was racing and I immediately went to my coworker and told her what happened. Sitter was placed to watch patient. And my coworker actively took my concern seriously.

This incident was so different from what I thought a threatening encounter would be like. I had always pictured pure rage, maybe psychosis....and maybe that is why those situations didn’t truly frighten me the way this one did. The blows that scare you the most are the ones you never saw coming. I was also a bit saddened that in that moment, I was not the badass ER nurse that takes no shit, I was scared. Truly scared. And it happened in an instant.

[heckin-good-holland-blog]

(this image isn’t mine!! credit to whoever owns it, i couldn’t find the original xx)

Patching Things Up

Summary: Fighting with Peter is never fun, but when you take it a bit too far things get a little dicey. You end up having to try to fix your relationship (and a pretty beat up Peter) and find yourself discovering a little more about him than you expected

Warnings: Blood is mentioned but it’s nothing too bad :)

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker

Genre: Angst + Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: WOAH my other writing thing got a bunch of notes for no reason omg I hope to keep posting and eventually make a masterlist?? but yeah enjoy!

————–

Peter was your close friend and you’d do absolutely anything for him, but man did he piss you off sometimes. You both were generally very easygoing and sweet people, but sometimes your opinions and viewpoints clashed dramatically. You argued about things ranging from what toppings to order on your pizza to who was the worst at math. Almost every argument you had was over silly stuff and you two made up instantly when you were finished. There was one exception though.

Spiderman. When you first found out about Peter’s secret you were stoked. It was an accident, of course. Ned let it slip one day when the two of you were talking and, against his wishes, you confronted Peter about it.

“I can’t believe you never told me!” you gushed excitedly. “There’s so many things I want to ask. Can you talk to actual spiders? Do webs come out of your butt? Spiders use poison to make their food mushy so they can eat it, is that what you do? I’ve never noticed.”

“How did you… Ned, are you serious?” Peter asked, his voice strained. “Y/N you weren’t supposed to find out. You have to swear not to tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you said with a wink. “It’s not like anyone would believe me anyway, but I’ll keep it to myself.”

“What, you don’t think Peter Parker can take on massive villains with crazy weapons and stuff?” he asked, looking mildly offended.

“Honestly? Not really,” you admitted. “No offense Pete, you’re just not that threatening or tough.” His eyes flashed and you knew this was going to be the beginning of something.

“Well that sucks because I don’t see you risking your life every single night fighting bad guys ten times your size,” he said angrily. “I get beat up really badly all the time but you should see the other guy. I like to think I’m somewhat good at what I do.” You stared at him for a second, your mind processing what he just said.

“Peter you have to stop,” you said suddenly. He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Y-you want me to stop? Stop being Spiderman?”

“Yes,” you hesitated. “It’s so dangerous, what would I do if something bad happened to you? God, I can’t believe this. What if you’d gotten killed? Please, you have to stop.” He took a step away from you, looking hurt.

“Y/N I have to do this,” he said. “If I don’t then so many more people are in danger. Don’t you get it? I can save people! I’ve already saved people. Isn’t that more important than whether or not I get some bruises once in a while? It’s so selfish of you to even say that!” His voice raised as he went, his emotions running wild. For as long as you’d known Peter he had never raised his voice like that at you. You could feel your heart pumping faster as you glared at him.

“If you keep being Spiderman we can’t be friends.” As soon as you said it you regretted it. The look on his face was like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t been friends for very long but you were still extremely close and you knew life without Peter would totally suck. It wasn’t an empty threat though. His safety was really important to you and you hated the idea of him setting off every night to go get knocked around.

“I won’t,” he said in a low voice. You blinked, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Then I guess we’re not friends anymore.”

“I guess not.” He didn’t look away, his gaze defiant and strong. You suddenly understood where Spiderman’s bravery came from. You readjusted the backpack on your shoulder and turned away, walking away from him.

It has been a few weeks since the fight had gone down and neither of you had spoken since. You were ashamed of your behavior but were too stubborn to go back on your word. It wasn’t really fair of you to ask him to give it up entirely but he had to understand the gravity of the situation. You checked the news obsessively every night to see if there was any information about Spiderman. You followed update accounts on twitter and even downloaded news apps with live coverage just in case. Every time Peter missed a day at school you were filled with anxiety and fear that he wouldn’t ever come back. You used Ned as a resource to find out how Peter was doing. Ned, caught in the middle, would always desperately ask you to talk to him again. He claimed that Peter had gotten really closed off and irritable and was ignoring just about everyone. It hurt you, but you were determined to prove a point.

One night when you were about to hop in the shower after a particularly long day your phone started going off like crazy. All kinds of notifications were popping up about a huge scale accident by Coney Island that involved one of the Avenger’s planes. Spiderman had been seen there, and from the looks of it he must have gotten pretty badly injured. Panic seized your body as you thought of Peter lying helplessly in the wreckage. You tried to shake it off. He was probably fine, this was his decision anyway. You decided to ignore it for the time being and just shower.

You were in the middle of drying yourself off when you heard the doorbell ring. You froze, your imagination spewing out worst case scenarios. You were home alone and there was a very slim chance it was your parents. What if it was a murderer? It would totally suck to be killed naked. The doorbell rang again a second and third time though and at that point your curiosity got the best of you. Your pulled your towel tightly around you and went to check the front door. You looked through the peep hole and saw a familiar face.

Peter. You swung the door open and almost passed out at the sight before you. He looked as if he had been in a gang fight or something. His entire face was cut and scratched with dark purple spots around his eyes. His lip was bleeding as well as a spot on his cheek. He was wearing a hoodie but he hadn’t bothered to put different pants over the suit, and you could see it had been ripped a few times.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed. “Peter, what happened? Never mind, tell me later. My god, sit down.” Your mind was reeling as you desperately tried to think of how to fix his wounds. Peter cleared his throat, disrupting your thoughts.

“Not to be creepy but can you put on clothes first? I’m hurt but I’m not dying and it’s kinda awkward…” His voice came out raspy but still carried the joking tone. Heat rushed to your face and you nodded, running back to your bathroom to quickly get your pajamas on. When you came back Peter was laying on the couch, his eyes closed. You sat down next to him gingerly and he looked up at you.

“Y/N… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. He sounded exhausted and defeated. “Y-you were right. Putting myself in harm’s way is stupid and I can’t always handle things on my own. I can’t do anything on my own, actually. I need you to talk to me again, I’m slowly going insane. I missed you so much and it was so much worse than any pain I’ve ever gone through in my whole life.” You swallowed hard, holding back tears. He looked so incredibly vulnerable and it broke your heart that what you had done upset him so much.

“Peter, listen…” you started but he cut you off.

“I-If you want I’ll even give up on Spiderman.” You paused for a second. He was really willing to give up such an important part of his life just to get you to talk to him again. You realized that being a hero was just who he was, and his selflessness made you feel really proud.

“I don’t want you to,” you said gently. “We need someone like you out there protecting us. I’m sorry I made you feel bad, I guess I’m not as good of a person as you are. I’m still gonna be upset when you get hurt like this but if it’s what you want to do then I shouldn’t be the one to stop you.” He grinned and his smile even reached his tired eyes. You missed seeing that smile and it lifted your spirits.

“I can deal with you being grumpy sometimes, it’s better than nothing. I had to listen to Ned talk about computer programming for like an hour yesterday and nobody came to my rescue. Maybe that can be your superpower?”

“Maybe,” you chuckled. “Now, do you want ice or something? You look terrible. Not that you don’t always look terrible, Parker.” He laughed, cringing at the pain shooting up his side. You looked at him nervously, unsure of how to help him.

“Ice sounds great actually,” he said. You nodded and rushed to the freezer to find an ice pack. You wrapped it in a thin towel so that it wouldn’t be super cold and brought it back to him. His face was drained of all color and there were beads of sweat all across his forehead.

“Pete, I think you might have a concussion,” you said as you eyed the bump on his head. “Your pupils are all dilated and you’re turning black and blue.”

“I’m fine,” he declared as he sat up, the look in his eyes showing he immediately regretted his decision. “Actually do you… I need to go throw up.” You helped him up and guided him to the bathroom. He insisted that he was good on his own and you waited anxiously outside the door, listening to him coughing and retching. You were a wreck. Your nursing skills were slim to none and you were basically useless in this situation. You did, however, have a driver’s license and you decided that you needed to take Peter to the hospital.

“Ok, I’m fine now,” he said as he emerged. He looked ghostly pale and generally ragged.

“Yeah, no,” you said. “I’m taking you to a doctor. I’ll call your aunt and let her know what’s going on, let’s go.”

“Y/N I don’t need a doctor,” he argued. “I feel great! I just want to stay here… Can I crash with you? Will your parents be mad?” You considered it for a moment. Your parents wouldn’t care, they’d known Peter for a while and trusted you enough to have him over. The thought of not having his head checked out made you a little nervous but when you looked at his pleading face you couldn’t say no.

“Fine, but you have to stay close to me in case something happens. I’ll find you a garbage can or something if you feel like you’re going to be sick again. Do you want a change of clothes? I have some of your shirts that you’ve left here.”

“That would be fantastic,” he said weakly. “I’m really sorry, this is all my fault.” He apologized about seven times in a row as you went to grab him a t-shirt.

“Peter, you know I love it when I’m right but if you could please shut up for like a minute that would be great.” You handed him the shirt and he just stared up at you. You raised your eyebrows and he smiled awkwardly.

“I’m wearing the suit under this and I don’t have other pants,” he told you. You rolled your eyes and he laughed despite the pain.

“You have boxers right? I’m not in middle school, I can handle it. Besides, it can’t be any more embarrassing than the skin-tight suit.”

“What’s wrong with the suit?” he asked defensively. You shook your head, not ready to start another argument with him. He carefully pulled off the hoodie and you gasped. There was blood all over the front of the suit that had been hidden from your sight by the sweatshirt.

“I’m good!” he exclaimed, trying to remind you. He pushed the button on the front of his suit and it fell down in a heap on the floor. You got a good look at his chest which was a lot more muscular than you would have thought. There was a big gash going down from his rib cage to his lower stomach that thankfully seemed to have stopped bleeding.

“Hey,” he said. “My eyes are up here.” You felt your face flush and he giggled.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed. “Since when do you have abs? I thought you were a nerd?”

“W-what? Oh uh I guess I just got fit from… fighting crime and stuff,” he stammered. He yanked the shirt over his head, all the carefulness from earlier abandoned. The two of you usually didn’t flirt or feel any weird tension, but suddenly the air felt stifling. He gazed over at you, clearly feeling the awkward mood settling as well.

“Hey, you know maybe I should go and…” you started to say, trailing off as Peter stepped closer to you cautiously. Your heart was beating so loud you were sure that he could hear it too. He looked as nervous as you felt, but the distance between you was closing rapidly. Soon enough he was right in front of you, his eyes fixed on your mouth. You knew what was going on, you just wouldn’t have ever guessed Peter would initiate it like this. His lips dangerously close to yours, he paused.

“Is this ok?” he murmured. You nodded slowly and he went for it. There was the faint taste of copper from the blood on his bottom lip, but that didn’t bother you. You pulled away first, your mind racing. What did this mean for you? Were you friends still or something else?

“Peter, I-” you said softly, but he beat you to it.

“I-I don’t know why I did that,” he said. “I just… I was thinking about what would happen if we weren’t friends and it messed me up inside, you know? After the first day of you ignoring me I knew that I liked you, like a lot. I don’t know if you feel the same way, I shouldn’t have made it weird…”

“I do feel the same way,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Let’s not fight like that again. You’re way too important to me.” You pulled his arm gently and the two of you sat down on the couch together. You were quiet for a moment before you looked over at him.

“Does this mean I’m dating a superhero?” you whispered.

“If you’re cool with it, yeah.”

“Once you feel better will take me on a date and show me how the web thing works?” He rested his head on your shoulder and thought for a moment.

“I think I might feel better tomorrow evening, maybe around 7?”

“You know where to find me, Spiderman.”