#-fight the god that tore his happy home apart. its personal)

[thehappiestgolucky]

I don't know if you're going to answer this but, Vigilante Tiso, is this an AU of yours? If so, I'm curious about the context of this concept!

Yep! Vigilante Tiso is one of my older and blog popular AU’s for Hollow Knight (based on poll results)

Originally, it started as a joke about Tiso being in Hallownest early just to take the piss out of PK and Lurien, but slowly developed into a more complicated story about Tiso being Xero and Markoth’s son (Xero biologically and Markoth via marrying into the family) as Tiso moved to Hallownest much earlier - eventually putting his distaste for the royalty into become the cities Vigilante that continued through the Infection Outbreak and in-game events. Instead of an arrogant ant that dies in the Colosseum, he’s a hot headed ant that’s been trying to protect survivors of a dying kingdom whilst wanting a solution and is willing to die for it.

A lot of it focuses more on the character relationships as they change and are affected by the story events - particularly with a small family being torn apart as simple mortals in a gods war.

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Chapter 27: I’m Undefeatable! I’m Thriving!

Summary: Danny is a magnet for trouble, but unfortunately for trouble, he needs to blow off some steam.

Word count: 6419

The night air had always healed something in Danny. Being close to the stars, no matter how visible they were, was comforting to him. When he was younger he wanted to get lost in the stars, to reach his fingers out and touch the galaxy. Now that Danny can, he wishes he was back in his room still dreaming about it instead. 

Still, when people fail you, the stars are always there.

He flew around without any purpose, letting the clouds run through his fingertips. He was weightless and had no more burdens. He was his own person up here and no one could take that away unless they shot him down. This is how things should be.

He didn’t know what to do now. Apparently, this ‘commission,’ whatever they were, knew where he stayed so he couldn’t go back. He didn’t need to sleep but it was nice having a place that he could pretend was his. Fortunately, he didn’t leave much behind except for the rabbit cookies (may they rest in peace). 

In another world, it could’ve been nice staying with Ma. Maybe. He had really wanted to trust him, but how could he after he lied to him, that he pretended to accept Danny? After he tore apart the cafe, there was no judgment or disgust in Ma's eyes, only concern. It hurt knowing that was fake. It was Vlad all over again. Danny was so hungry for a mentor that he let himself get manipulated. Nothing has changed since then. Danny didn’t want to get hurt anymore.

God he was so stupid! Adults are always like that. They don’t care unless it benefits them. Danny didn’t even feel sad, he just felt angry. The man acted like he knew Danny– knew what he’s been through. For a second Danny almost believed him. They had the same eyes. But now? Now Danny knows he’s alone. Maybe this was always meant to be. 

Ghosts have a loneliness about them. It made sense. If they were ever happy or at peace they would be able to move on. Danny didn’t like to think about the world Dan created, but he remembers that the Lunch Lady and the Box Ghost weren’t there. He has a theory that they passed away, their remaining ectoplasm swirling together to create Lunch Box. She still existed in time somewhere, being raised by the yetis in the Far Frozen. He knows her parents visit her, even if they weren’t the same ones she was formed from. They were all still around to his knowledge. They may love each other, but even love can’t fully heal you, it just helps you pick up some pieces. Someday he hopes all three of them will be able to move on together. Maybe that already happened. 

Time existed all together in the Ghost Zone. Maybe he should start calling it by its true name; the Infinite Realms. The more he learned about it, the more ghosts seemed like such a small part. There were so many worlds within worlds and you never knew where a portal could take you. It could be to a time lost long ago or a future not yet imagined. Danny has had his fill of those worlds, fighting Vlad and hoping timelines to do it. He just wants one of them to lead him back home, whatever it may look like now. 

And there was that feeling again, the smallness of himself in comparison to all of reality. It would all be okay because he didn’t matter. He had completed his purpose in life by defeating the Ghost King. Now he was free to do whatever he wanted. He had all of infinity to feel bad for himself or eventually even happy. If that's true, there was no reason for him to hold back from his feelings. He could feel whatever he wanted, however violently he wanted, and know that it will eventually be in the past. 

But that didn’t help at all. He could overthink and try to rationalize it, but it didn’t stop the hurt Danny had now. The truth is he wanted to hold onto it, he wanted it to curl inside him and make him feel alive again. He was so sick of this intangible in-between that he had made himself act out. 

He had no idea what he was even doing. Getting a job? Making connections? Look how that turned out. Those will never bring back his old self again, no matter how much he wanted it to. Danny had thought that he had accepted that he was dead, but turns out he was just avoiding it. Was that what the other ghosts were doing? Kitty and Johnny always had a habit of pulling others into their relationship drama. Maybe that was their way of being real, of pretending they had friends they could vent to rather than the obvious truth. It’s not very common that two souls are bonded like theirs, but even that isn’t enough to make you feel alive again. Ember was probably the best example of this. Her whole obsession was for people to simply remember her, no matter what it took. At first Danny thought she was just a big headed ex pop-star, but now he sees what it truly was. 

There will be a time in history when your name is spoken for the last time. When that happens you truly are dead. 

Having someone, a living someone, say your name was like proof of your existence. It said someone loved me enough to give it to me and used to call me that everyday. As a ghost, that's as close as you can get to someone touching you and you feeling it. It had been so long since Danny even heard his name that he didn’t know if he could recognize it if called. Being called Danny would be like being called back home. But he was Phantom now, now and until forever. As much as ghosts wanted to be called by their name, they never shared it with anyone. Even Ember’s name was an epithet. As great as it was to be called by your name, it was only the high before the numbness set in. 

Danny wants to be a human again so badly. He wants to have people call his name with no hesitation and look at him with care and glee. He wants to be caught falling asleep during class and his name getting yelled out in front of everyone. He wants his sister and friends to ask him if he’s okay while using his name. They say that everyone uses your name but you, but that wasn’t true anymore. His name would only be used by him in the dark cold corners of solitude. 

“Danny…” He whispered, but the air blew it away as he flew. He had to make sure he could even pronounce it still.

Danny settled on a ledge somewhere. The sun had completely set by now but people still walked below him carrying on with their lives. Danny let himself become real again and let go of his invisibility and intangibility. He wanted to be seen, he wanted to be touched. Instead, he only felt the coldness of himself, and even then he had to concentrate to feel it. 

He had flown off most of his anger and pain, but he could still feel it in his core. He left it there to smooth and polish like a pearl. Danny reached under his hazmat suit where he stored the folder and card. He looked at the card first, the only name on it being ‘Eraserhead’. That was probably Ma's hero name. Danny had no clue what that meant. Maybe he could put his forehead down to paper and use it as an eraser. Maybe it was supposed to be a threat saying that he’ll ‘erase’ people with his power. 

Neither of those things fit him but Danny though the former was the funniest. A small smile stretched the corners of his mouth despite himself. He forced them back down. 

The only other things written on that was an address and a phone number. The number was of no use to him since his phone was on his corpse. Danny stared at the address. He had gotten used to some of the street names by now and he thinks he’s even flown by there before. 

Danny had nowhere to go now. It was like those nights he didn’t want to go home, but didn’t want to bother Sam or Tucker either. He no longer needed a place, the only reason he stayed at the shack was to play house. 

Danny looked at the card again, a bitter feeling twisting inside him. He held it over the ledge and slowly burned it with his ectoplasm. The green flame traveled up the card, curling the paper under the heat and turning it to ash. It crumpled between his two fingers and blew away like his name on the air. He didn’t need anything now.

He should do the same to the folder, but curiosity got the better of him. Danny started to flick through the pages. The hero was big, possibly rivaling his own dad. His costume looked cool, but with his face he looked more like a villain. Bearded flames hid half his face from view and he had a very sour impression as if challenging the photographer. In a way he looked like Dan.

Danny glared at the profile, already deciding his distaste. Ma also left some personality notes on the man which did not help further his appeal. Hot headed and arrogant with enough ambition to make up for it. He had held the number 2 spot for the last 20 years. He was fixed at that spot even as the #1 was seen less and less. #1 must’ve been powerful. 

In a brief paragraph it mentioned Endeavor's family. His wife had been in a psych ward for the last few years leaving their 3 kids alone with that man. There used to be 4, but the eldest died before she was admitted. There wasn’t a lot of information on the kids themselves except the youngest. It just stated that he was in school to become a hero.

‘Wonder if he knows Deku,’ Danny idly thought. He skimmed a few pages looking at his gear and quirk. His quirk, while not that interesting in the grand scheme of things, was very versatile. In one of the notes he apparently used it to melt the side of a building and run on the walls. That was an image. 

He was a fast and heavy hitter and used his strength to overwhelm whatever was standing in his way. Danny’s met a few ghosts like that and he was sure some of them would describe him the same way. 

He got bored of the file not long after and was pent up again. Danny crumpled it up and burned it too, tossing it over the side before it became ash. Displayed on the building across from his was a bright advertisement of a hero selling shampoo. All around him were heroes, and yet Danny rather be as far away as possible. This world kind of sucked. 

His mind went back to Ma and the commission. Anger and frustration started coiling in his core again and it was electrified when he thought back to the other heroes in the alley. Flying wouldn’t cool him off again, it barely had last time he was just avoiding the problem. And what was the problem? That answer was simple. 

Danny was the problem. He had been the problem. In a world of heroes, he was the only freak among them. Even in his own world he was a freak, even before he died. Everywhere he went it was like people had an instinct to hate him. 

No, that wasn’t completely true. There had been a few who accepted him for what he was. Jazz, Sam and Tucker had always been there for him. He should’ve been there for them more, it was just at the time he thought he had until forever to do so. Now it was all gone. 

He missed them. He needed them. He was so lonely in this world. Deku was nice, but there was only so much he could tell him. Not only that but he doesn’t want to drag him into Danny’s problems. He knew that if he went back to the boy’s house, both him and his mother would open their arms to him and let him stay. He couldn’t do that to them though, not soon after would he be hunted down and hurt them in the process. 

If he had gone with Ma, he might have had a fighting chance. But how could he trust him? Even worse, how could Danny trust himself? Even as the man was twisting the knife, Danny wanted to accept his offer. 

Danny could only think about home, like a bull seeing red. He needed to get back there. It was the only place he felt safe. He flew back to the portal like a jet. He didn’t care who was there, he would fight them off. He just wanted to go home. 

Danny landed on one of the buildings over the alley. Even from here he could taste the ectoplasm in the air. His core humming and harmonizing with it, making him almost dizzy. An orange light illuminated the alley below and Danny recognized the figure. Rage surged through him and Danny grabbed the edging. 

Below him was Endeavor. 

How dare any hero, let alone the #2 hero be anywhere near his portal. Hadn’t they hunted him enough today? The hero just stood there, not knowing his very presence was an insult to the ground on which he stood. Danny gripped the side harder, causing rubble to fall down. 

The hero looked up and made eye contact with Danny, a brief look of fear took over his features before anger and determination washed it off. Danny wouldn’t have a repeat of last time.

Danny pounced before the other got the chance. 

🔥~

Endeavor was enraged. How dare those punks at the commission tell him what to do. Phantom was a villain. Endeavor took care of villains. It was just one measly kid, not the gang that the public thought him to be. Endeavor had probably fought villains far stronger than Phantom, and was out numbered too. It was nothing he wasn’t able to handle. 

Makoto and her assistant tried to take the tracker from him and remove him from the case. It was easy to call their bluff. He threatened to crush the device right in front of them. He wouldn’t let something as useless as that get in the way of him and Phantom. Makoto tried to stare him down but failed just as she had the other times. She let him through. She had no real control of him, just another office lackey barking up a tree. 

Endeavor first went straight to the shack. Supposedly, Phantom had been living here since Hosu, but all traces were scrubbed clean. Hosu. Just thinking about it made Endeavor’s blood boil. 

Hosu had been a complete failure. Endeavor may have gotten the credit for taking down Stain, but it twisted a knife in his pride knowing the truth. He had gone to Hosu to bring that villain to justice, but had that ribbed away from him, let alone by a child no less. It was salt in the wound. Not to mention that he was the only thing Shoto talked about after the incident. That and that Midoriya boy. 

There was something else there that Endeavor couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge and that was fear. It wasn’t towards Phantom’s skill in of itself, but rather his aura when he took down the Nomu. It kept Endeavor rooted to the spot in a way nothing else had before. It was like death itself.

No, worse than that. It was everything he hated. He saw all his shortcomings wrapped into one being. His lack of power, his inability to save Shoto, his failure as a hero. In the monster's white hair he even saw Toya. 

That was why he had to capture Phantom. His resolve wavered that day but it wouldn’t now. He had to prove to himself that he would be unrelenting.

In the meeting, they had mentioned the possibility that Phantom had been looking for something. Endeavor thinks he’s figured out where it was. The what was of no importance to him, not unless it could help Endeavor defeat him. When the heroes encountered Phantom last night, he was doing something in the alley. They had no way of telling what, but there had to be a reason he lingered and fought so hard when all the other times he ran away. 

After he was done with the shack, he went there to investigate. The alley was just as shrubbed as the shack, but there lingered a strange sensation in the air where it wasn’t present before. Endeavor put on a protective mask that he got from one of his other suits to keep out the radiation. He wasn’t planning on staying long. He suspected Phantom might be around the air, protecting whatever it was he was hiding, but the chance of seeing him here was slim. Not even 24 hours ago he had his head blown off right where Endeavor stood. He would stay away for a few days if he knew what's good for him. 

Nothing stood out to Endeavor in that tight space. Whatever Phantom was looking for was well hidden or small. It could be disguised as something as insignificant as a rock. Endeavor knows Phantom didn’t have it, otherwise he would’ve left as soon as the heroes showed up. There was also the possibility that it wasn’t a thing but a code or some other piece of a puzzle. Endeavor checked the graffiti or anything else that could have been such a thing.

He crouched down to inspect the small crater Phantom left before he was attacked by the heroes when he heard something above him. Small pebbles hit his head and when Endeavor looked up all he could see were two green eyes in the darkness. 

That same overwhelming feeling overwhelmed and attacked him. It was like he was being taken back in time to when humans were being hunted by their food. He tried to wipe it off but he could still feel it shake in his bones like a cold wet day. 

Suddenly, the thing leapt from the ledge and was coming right toward Endeavor. All thought left him as he stared into the thing’s hollow green eyes, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Despite his flames, he couldn’t see the thing’s body, just the green surrounded by a void of inky darkness. Endeavor’s feet were rooted to the spot and he watched in slow motion as the thing lit up its fists in the same green and punched him. Hard. 

Endeavor had no time to react as the force threw him several feet, flinging him to the otherside of the alley. His back hit the wall and he could hear something crack. He wasn’t sure if that was his body or the wall behind him. 

Now, all light was sucked from the alley, the only light being the things eye’s and fists. Even Endeavor’s flames cowered before the threat, although he still felt their heat inside him. He knew those eyes, in a manner of speaking. He had spent hours reading about them in reports, going over every bit of information and detail to find the villains weaknesses. 

So this was Phantom? He had only seen him one time before, but not like this. Back then, he didn’t play this dirty trick. He let himself be seen. A part of Endeavor trembled at the memory looking into the villains eyes. It wasn’t different now except that it was solely concentrated on Endeavor. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass getting burned. 

Endeavor had to get up. He wouldn’t let this brat best him. Not again. With less ease then he would’ve liked, he stood up, bracing his back to the wall. Endeavor put on his most menacing face and he glared up at Phantom, the villain floating above him like at Hosu. ‘Come down and face me like a man,’ a small part of thought. 

He leaned away from the wall, trusting his feet to support him, and settled into a fighting stance. He rotated his neck, popping a few bones back into place.

“Thanks for revealing yourself,” Endeavor put all of his might into his words, “Saved me the trouble of hunting you down.” He pressed his thumb to the side of one of his nostrils and blew out a wad of blood. He couldn’t even see it land but it made a wet sound on the ground. “Now I can take you out here and now, Phantom.” He said the name like a slur. 

“̶̛͓̂͛I̸̗̪̊̾̕ ̷̧͛̈́w̴̼͆͒̉̔à̷̯͠n̷͓͕̰͕̾͂́̎ţ̸͒́̂ ̶̮̻̿̈́ỳ̵̭̬̬̈͆̈́ŏ̴͎̺͈̏͆u̶̢̦͍̜͂̅ ̷̝̮̘͂̋́t̴̢͇̽̈́o̸͙̘̯̍̽̋͊.̸͓͔̤͉̈́̌̄ ̵̙͇͌̇̅̀Į̴̃̔́ ̷̭͉̈̓́w̶̤͈͉̑͐̓̈́a̶̡̨̲͐n̷͚͗͐̄t̴̂̈́͋̌ͅ ̶̖̟͖̲̓̀ÿ̸͖́o̵̜͉͊͂̑ͅu̴͖͖̟͌͝ ̵̥̗̳͋͂͘͘t̵͎̮̫̃͌̔̕o̵̹̹̺͛̀͝͝ ̸̤̓̅̃̊g̶̨̨̿̀̓͝ͅḙ̵̣̦͕̃ṯ̷̣̒ ̸̥͔̌̌̎a̷̳̜̬̽̔ș̶̡̡̿͆̚͜ ̶̱͊̉͠c̴̩̭̬̜͗͘l̶̢͚̯͌͘ò̸͙s̸̹̺̰̘̅̇̆̚e̴̩͔͉̓ ̶̡̛̯͓͓̅͂́a̴͇̦͖̫̓s̴͎̦͍̖̋͂̑̓ ̶̳͘y̵̡͌̊͘ọ̶̔̔̇ű̵͕̃͒ ̴̳̮̹̈́̈́̓̅c̴̹̼̫̅́͒ȧ̸͍́̋̀n̵͕͚͍͕̐͛͝.̵̯͉͔́͑̀ ̶̯̙̥̼͌̓̋̒I̸͎̯̿ ̵̲͙̞̂̐̄̚w̸̪̯̽a̸͕̓́̈̕ṉ̵̪͊̀̎t̵͎̲͓̀͌̒͂ ̸͈̹̿͑̚y̴̩͐̎͗́o̸̧͖͓͊́̆u̴̡̲͆̏͝ ̶͇̃̇͆̈t̴̪͉̱̒̚o̸̮̥̖͖̿̔͝ ̶͍̻͐t̸̳͓͚̀͐̆̇r̷͓̂ȳ̸̯̲̠.̵͔͎̼͇̓̾”̶̜̼͚͗͌͜

The voice made Endeavor’s ears ring. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard and more distorted than static. It left a dry metallic taste in his mouth like lightning was about to strike.

He had to strike now before the thing moved. He felt his flames burn hotter, but even that wasn’t enough to illuminate the alley. He plunges it in the direction of Phantom’s body with a battle-cry. His fists make contact, but the villain's body feels strange. It was more like punching into wet concrete than solid flesh. He finally saw his flames but they were different. Upon contact, they turned green, matching the same toxic color as the villains eyes and fists. What was he? Such a thing could no longer be called human. 

He tried to find the outline of Phantom’s body, but the longer he stared the more dizzy he felt. Endeavor's eyes started playing tricks on him as the corner of his sight began to swirl and spiral like shapes haunted his periphery. 

An ickiness overtook his body as he stared at the shapes. It was like spiders were crawling under his skin trying to get out. Endeavor tried to move his arm back from Phantom’s body, but something wet gripped him, holding him in. Phantom’s face moved closer to his and Endeavor was stuck looking into the villains eyes unable to look away. They looked like they were smiling. 

Suddenly, Phantom’s body started to move and writhe around Endeavor’s fist, the sensation like if his hand was stuck in a pool of eels. He would’ve screamed or yelled if he had any air left in his throat.  

Endeavor's heart beat heavily in his chest, each thud feeling like an earthquake. Since the activation of his quirk he felt cold for the first time. The sensation passed and Phantom was on the other side of him, that look still in his eyes. He liked to see Endeavor squirm. 

For the first time since the opening attack, Phantom raised one of his arms, the sickly green glowing brighter and in the direction of Endeavor. Endeavor didn’t even have time to inhale before the plasma blast hit him in the chest and sent him rolling again, his body sliding and scraping on the concrete. 

No where in the reports did it mention Phantom having these quirks. Had he been hiding them all this time? Why not use them until now? In a fight, regardless of if you were a hero or villain, you had to use anything at your disposal, no matter how dirty. Of course, heroes were judged on if they used too much force or damaged too much property, but villains weren’t held back by such rules. 

A swell of pride entered Endeavor’s chest. As much as he may have feared Phantom, Phantom was just as scared of him. Even when the other heroes blew off his head he did not use these quirks. Only Endeavor and Endeavor alone was a threat enough for Phantom. 

Confidence swelled in his chest and melted the ice. He stopped shaking and Endeavor finally had control over his limbs. He could win.  

He got up and charged Phantom before he could shoot another blast. His fist hit the villain's strange body and his flames changed color again. Endeavor didn’t stop hitting him, pulling his fist to strike again before it could latch onto him. Phantom’s body shook back and forth with each strike, his eyes getting a blur effect from the movement and speed. Endeavor could even see his past strikes still light up Phantom’s torso due to the friction. 

This was strangely familiar. Despite all his hits, Phantom didn’t seem to be taking any damage. It was like the Nomu’s back in Hosu. Was he really one of them? They had both escaped from the same time and they had learned more about those things since then. He was right, Phantom wasn’t human anymore. 

Still, with those Nomu’s all he had to do was hit them harder! 

“Flashfire Fist Hell Spider!” Endeavor yelled out his attack, this time aiming for Phantom’s head like the heroes before him. Phantom has a regeneration quirk, but what he read is that when hit on the head with extreme force it causes him to become disoriented before he recovers. 

Sure enough, glowing green erupted from where Phantom’s eyes once sat. Endeavor used that to get closer to the villain and he began his barrage once again, pushing Phantom out of the alley. Phantom was strong but everything has it’s limits, Endeavor knew that better than anybody. 

Light returned to the world and it almost blinded Endeavor. He could finally see his own flames again and he basked in the glow and power of them. He looked down at Phantom a few feet away from him, the goo returning back to his head. He didn’t look real and it was hard to believe such a thing could exist. 

Phantom had recovered now but his floating hair covered his face. Endeavor took a moment to study the villain. He was unlike any foe he had fought if by mere virtue of his physicality. Like all the others, Endeavor would take him down. 

Something caught his eye. Instead of the plain black and white hazmat suit, he donned a Fat Gum sweatshirt. The front had been burned to bits, but the design was clearly one and the same. It had to have been the same one that was tied around his waist in the reports. There was also a report of a strange boy in the area wearing the same one, although that had no leads as of yet. It was such an unimportant detail, but yet it sparked more anger in Endeavor. It was like a mockery of them, a trophy of the hero that he had encountered before and so terrified.

Endeavor charged Phantom again with flame at his fingertips, letting out the heat from his last attack. It was a shame no one was around to witness him defeat Phantom, but it was probably safer that way. It was hard to rein in damage when Endeavor burned like this. 

Endeavor smiled. This would be his finishing blow. He aimed it at Phantom and felt it connect. He yelled as he pushed it harder and harder into him. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to kill the villain, but it would certainly knock him out.

Endeavor felt a hand wrap around his, his flames turning green from the touch. Fear once again landed in Endeavor’s bones as his flames burned brighter. He pushed harder but no matter how hot he burned the hand wouldn’t let go. 

A distorted face appeared in the flame and he got closer to Endeavors. It was like a creature coming out of hell with a halo of green flames at his back. A surge of cold overwhelms him and his flames start to lose their intensity. Finally the face is fully shown and Endeavor can see Phantom clearly. 

He was smiling. 

★~

Endeavor’s attacks were forceful and unrelenting. For the first time Danny was able to feel something other than his own chill. He felt warm, and it felt nice. Each hit that Endeavor landed was like a fresh reminder that he was still real. This is what he had been looking for all this time. He wanted more. 

He couldn’t deny the man was powerful too. He clearly earned his spot as the #2 hero. Had Danny been any less of a freak they might have hurt. A thought clouded his mind as the hero punched him again and again. Was this all they had to offer?

Before him was the near pinnacle of their strength in this world, yet it hardly affected Danny. Was he getting punked? Was this really what he was so afraid of when he came into this world? He thought his luck had finally turned but he could not be more mistaken. He was wrong when he called Stain weak. He wasn’t weak. They all were weak. 

The only reason he was afraid of the heroes before was because they reminded him how much of a freak he was and scared him with his own body.

Danny smiled at the hero, a sick feeling of satisfaction twisted in him when he saw how scared he was. Good. That was what Danny had been feeling for so long now. 

He still wanted to get it out. He wanted to get everything out. He knew there was no way in hell that the hero before him could win or even pose much of a threat to him. Still, he wanted to feel what he was able to do. He wanted to see if he could hurt Danny. 

Endeavor stepped back after the last of his flames sizzled out. His face was pale and his eyes had lost their spark. On his face was no longer the confident or angry expression that he wore instead replaced by one of pure regret.

“Come on,” Danny teased, “I thought I told you to try? Is this all you can do?” 

Danny stepped closer to him and the hero backed up again. He felt like a wolf cornering a deer. He closed the distance and grabbed the hero’s fist. He tried to pull it away but Danny wouldn’t let him. He placed the fist on his torso and looked back up at Endeavor, a smile stretching his face.

“Try again,” he whispered. 

Endeavor pulled back and Danny laughed. He hadn’t laughed in so long. He could almost get addicted to it. He watched Endeavor swallow hard and his face change again from that same fear to desperate rage. 

He raised a fist and set it alight. Excitement filled Danny about what was going to happen. He let Endeavor hit him, but returned it with a hit of his own. He was careful not to go too hard on the hero. It must’ve been too much since it knocked the hero back.

“I really thought you would be stronger than this,” Disappointment was clear in his voice. 

Anger filled the hero’s eyes and he aimed another hit at Danny. It was heavier than the last one and Danny let himself feel the full force of it. The feeling of warmth returned to his chest. 

Danny playfully hit back, not enough to knock him over but hard enough to earn a groan from the hero. It reminded him of his spar with Deku, although he thinks the boy might stand a better chance than Endeavor. If anything, Danny could use this as stress relief. 

He let Endeavor hit him over and over again. By this point Danny’s hoodie had been completely burned away. The man started sweating and it was clear that his body was no longer able to handle the heat of his own quirk. Danny just needed to cool him down. He started returning hits again, this time with ice below his fingers. The hero stopped sweating a little but he was starting to pant. 

Danny punched Endeavor’s stomach trying to get him to cough up more of his fire. Instead the only thing that came out was vomit. Danny jumped back, giving the hero room to breathe. 

After a second he stood up, determination on his face. It was clear he hadn’t given up yet. That’s good. Danny wasn’t finished yet. He watched him slowly start to recover and his breathing even out.

“Do you really think I’d let you win?!” He pointed at Danny, “No, no. I may not be as strong as the #1 hero, but even I could beat scum like you! Even if you do defeat me, you can’t go against all of us!”

He reached to his side and pulled out a walkie-talkie. He showed it off like a gun at Danny. 

“It is cold outside!” Endeavor yelled into the communicator. 

Danny rolled his eyes. He heard that phrase before with the other heroes. That means reinforcements would be coming soon. Maybe this could be a lesson to get them to back off. Danny had to end this quickly… 

Everything went black.

★~

When Danny came too, Endeavor was on the ground with Danny on top of him. He hit the hero over and over again, pushing him deeper into the cracked street. Danny couldn’t stop himself and became lost in the rhythm. He wanted him to get back up so he could do it again. 

“Phantom, stop!” Something pulled on his arm. Reflexives took over and Danny twisted around and punched something in the face. He felt bone crack underneath his fist. He realized all too late who it was and pulled his fist away as if it burned him. Horror and regret spread through his body. 

“He’s down... Just stop.” The voice was muffled and tired. 

“Ma?” Danny forced the words out of his throat. They were as thick as bile and he wanted to swallow it back down. He started trembling, realizing what he had just done and what was around him. 

Ma’s eyes widened and a shocked smile spread across his face. “Yeah,” he said, “Ma.”

His senses finally returned and pain like no other shot inside him. He really was a monster. Thoughts crashed and coursed through Danny’s head like a riptide and complicated emotions rose up to the surface. He looked down at the hero before him. He didn’t look like an enemy, he just looked like a man.

“I thought I said not to call me Phantom,” He tried to say it like a joke, something for them to laugh at rather than the tense air between them right now. Instead he sounded like a kid disappointed for the first time. 

The hero was clutching his nose and blood dripped onto the concrete. Danny wanted to look away but some unknown force kept his head in place. He started shaking even harder. He had done that. He looked at Endeavor on the ground, beaten into submission. Was he really capable of this kind of brutality? 

“You know I can't do that,” Ma huffed. He was on one of his knees, but pushed himself up to face Danny. His arms lowered to his sides to show he was empty handed, he didn’t even have the scarf around his neck. A gentle smile spread across his face despite the blood. 

“I can still help you,” Ma said. There was no judgment in his voice. Danny wanted to break down in front of him, but all around them more heroes were showing up. Gazes full of murder all honed in on Danny. He deserved it too. 

“How?” Danny gestured at the crowd around them. He really fucked up this time. Why did he go so overboard? He knew Endeavor wasn’t a threat to him, he just couldn’t stop. He even hurt Ma. The man may have hurt Danny, but he didn’t deserve that. 

Danny looked at his hands, the white gloves stained with red. He wasn’t sure if it was from Ma or the hero beneath him. He just wanted everything to stop. He looked back at Ma. Blood was oozing down his face and he looked unstable. Danny reached out to him when something shot at him. It was an inch from his fingertips. It was a warning shot but rage filled him that they would shoot in the direction of one of their own. Danny looked around for the culprit, his eyes zeroing in on a cowboy in a mask. Danny felt anger rise in his throat again. 

“Come with me,” Ma’s voice brought him back. He tried to keep his tone steady but his eyes betrayed him, showing ill hidden desperation. “I can talk them down. They’re just scared.”

And that was it. Scared. Danny had given them every reason to be afraid. Every time they attacked him, he hit them harder. Didn’t they think he was just scared too? He was just a kid but they looked at him as if he were a monster. 

‘You are a monster,’ a voice sang in his ear, ‘look what you’ve done. You stopped being a kid a long time ago.’

“I can’t.” His voice sounded pathetic and like a child’s, “Just give me some time. I-” Danny paused not knowing what to say. Another shot rang out and missed him. It wasn’t safe here, for him or Ma. So long as he was here they would keep shooting.

“You were right,” Ma breathed out. He looked to be on the edge of consciousness, “I don’t know you, but I would like to. I’m sorry...”

“I just need some time,” Danny looked into Ma’s eyes for what felt like the first and final time. Ma didn’t look surprised and simply nodded, his head tipping back a little before he regained his balance again. Once again Danny tried to reach out but another shot fired. 

“No,” Danny stated, “I’m sorry,” Danny felt the sensation of tears in his eyes and he flew away from Ma and the heroes. 

He was such a coward.

[yhwhsdaughter]

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

[duckugou]

pretty girl

Bokuto x fem reader

cw: big fat fluff, very cute i love it here

animal shelter moment!

i love this big lug of a man

come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in! Requests are open!!

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

You had been working at the pet shelter for a few months now, and you positively loved it. The animals were all so precious and you just wanted to help all of them- so you did. Every day. You accepted overtime frequently, and covered plenty of shifts. It was worth it.

You also helped set up volunteering schedules and go through people wanting the volunteer- the owner of the shelter saw how dedicated you were and how much you truly cared for the animals, so naturally you were in charge of deciding who would be best to take care of them when you couldn't.

There was one guy who came in all the time to volunteer. His name was Bokuto and he came in frequently. At first, you weren't sure about him. He was pretty clumsy. But he quickly got used to everything in the shelter and became an asset to you and the animals. He understood how to read animals emotions, which can be hard. You became thankful for him more and more each day, as on Saturday mornings, which were your earliest shifts at 7 am, he would make it a mission to volunteer and bring you coffee. 7:05 on the dot every Saturday. Once he found out how you take your coffee after coming on early one day, he made a note in his phone so he wouldn't forget.

There was one dog you had grown attached to, Honey, and you would adopt her if you could, but your apartment complex wouldn't allow pets. You heart ached for the 3 year old girl every day people came in and adopted other pets, but not her. She was "too timid" as some people stated, standing at her cage as she cowered to the bed in the back. But she was different with you and Bokuto. She would trot to the door of the cage when either of you would walk in, wagging her tail rather than sticking it between her legs. The love was always reciprocated ten fold.

One Saturday morning, you walked up to the shelter door, unlocked it, flipped the sign to "Open", and went towards the desk. You signed in, sorted through mail, and soon enough, Bokuto walked in, a coffee in his hand.

"Iced peppermint mocha for the lady of the hour!" Bokuto exclaimed, setting it down on the desk, signing in.

"You seriously have GOT to stop buying me coffee-" you started, trying to hand Bokuto money, hoping that he would accept it.

"Y/n! You know its my treat!" Bokuto said, smiling and shoving the money back to you.

"God damn it," You giggled, rubbing your forehead as if he had given you a headache.

You couldn't lie, you had the biggest crush on Bokuto, and spending every Saturday morning with him while doing what you loved was pretty damn nice. He knew how to put a smile on your face no matter what.

You walked back to the dog cages, starting the process of giving them all food and of course giving them extra love.  Once you got back to Honey's cage, the both of you got excited, and you entered her kennel. (Side note- the cages I'm talking about are but like gated areas in a building so they go all the way to the ceiling- you aren't like CRAWLING into a tiny cage-)

"Hey pretty girl!" You exclaimed as she licked your face all over, giving you kisses as if saying 'I never thought you were coming back I missed you all night' as she did every day.

"Y/n, I told you to stop talking to yourself!" Bokuto yelled, walking back to Honey's cage to join you. She had become family to the two of you.

You giggled, "Oh enough you flirt," you slapped his shoulder lightly as he walked into the cage with you.

"I have news about this little lady actually!" Bokuto said, beaming.

"What? What do you know before me?" You asked, genuinely confused.

"Honey is being adopted today!"

Your heart sank, but you were happy as well. Happy she would have a home, but sad that you wouldn't see her anymore. Bokuto saw the way your face dropped, and you looked to Honey, giving her a hug.

"Oh pretty girl, I'm gonna miss you..." You told her, fighting tears.

You and Bokuto walked back to the front of the shelter, giving food to all the cats and other little animals that had been dropped there, like bunnies and such. But the whole time, you couldn't stop thinking about Honey leaving. It tore a hole in your heart. You waited all day for someone to come in with a leash, ready to take Honey to their home.

Once it was time for Bokuto to leave for the day, he grabbed a leash off the wall, making a wave of confusion run through you.

"Whatcha doin with that?" You inquired.

"You'll see! Patience is key, Y/n" Bokuto snickered, walking to the back.

You didn't think anymore of it, staring at the door, waiting for a loving family to walk in. Or would they be horrible? Would they hurt Honey? You hadn't seen any applications for adoption, meaning the owner of the shelter had approved it, so it could be anyone.

Bokuto snapped you out of your overthinking session, walking to the front with Honey on the pink leash he had grabbed from the wall. All of your thoughts about the awful person that could be adopting Honey were wiped away, and you were just confused.

"What are you doing with my pretty girl?" You asked, walking to give her what you thought were the last pets you'd every give her.

"Well. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to hang out today. Like, come shopping with me and come to my place for a bit? You're pretty knowledgeable about this stuff-"

You cut him off, "What are you on about Bo?"

"Oh! Right. Well, I'm adopting a dog today..." He trialed off, motioning to Honey, waiting for you to put the pieces together.

Slowly but surely, you did just that, jumping up from the floor where you were next to Honey.

"NO YOURE NOT. YOURE KIDDING." You said, beaming.

"Yeah! I couldn't stand the thought of someone awful or weird adopting your pretty girl and I know you cant have pets, but I can. So, I took it into my own hands. AND you can come see her any time, as long as you help me shop for her stuff when you get out of work." Bokuto explained.

You jumped into his arms, giving him a huge hug. This was better than any coffee he had ever brought you.

"Holy SHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE- THANK YOU- I JUST-" Your eyes began welling with happy tears, and Bokuto giggled. You then realized how much you really like him. He was so amazing.

"I mean, we could even count this shopping spree a date?" He half told, half asked, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous manner.

"I'd love that, Bo. I really would." You beamed.

"Awesome. Well, I'm gonna go show this pretty girl off to my friends, and then later, I can show another pretty girl off to my friends, hopefully." He said, motioning to you, laughing at his own horrible excuse of a pickup line.

"Maybe you can, you doofus." You laughed with him, waving good bye to the 2 most important beings to you in that moment.

You had never been happier.

[milstrim]

Home Is in My Arms

Tony Stark had had a daughter.

Her name had been Penelope.

She had had superpowers.

And he hadn't seen her in four years.

The ten year-old had last been seen on March thirty-first, 2012. The day of the Chitauri invasion. Tony had seen her that morning, and he guessed he could at least be grateful that their last interaction hadn't been like his own with his parents. Instead of a fight that was never resolved, the two had giggled on the couch of the newly furnished tower, him and Pepper with glasses of wine and Penny with her mint milkshake. Pepper had side-eyed them exasperatedly, as though their laughs and jokes had been the worst ruckus anyone had ever made.

And then Coulson. And then Steve. And then Natasha and Bruce and a God he had learned about in history when he was younger. And then Loki and the Helicarrier and explosions that had left Tony's head ringing--but nothing had hurt more than the loss of his friend.

Everything had gone by so quickly, so desperately, there had been no time to do anything about anything except gear up and go. The biggest reassurance he had given himself was that his homework had caused Pepper and Penny to leave the city for a couple of days while the girl was on Spring Break. It meant they were safe from everything was about to happen, and that he didn't have to worry past New York.

And they had won. The Avengers had been formed under desperate circumstances. They had saved the world.

And Penny had been gone.

Pepper had left on the plane, but Penny had managed to convince her godmother that she should stay at her friend's house for a sleepover. The aliens hadn't even been able to make it past the perimeter and into Queens, but the hectic of it had been enough. Or maybe she had run off to help. Even at ten she was braver than he was. Better. And equipped with superpowers from a field trip's rogue spider that made her stronger than even Captain America.

But it hadn't been enough.

No body was ever recovered. No trace of her was ever found. No footage or DNA or witnesses. There was nothing. Nothing for him to even try and grasp onto what had happened to her. How she had died. The best anyone could do was assume that a Chitauri weapon had vaporized her and to try to grieve from there.

And by God did he try.

After the Mandarin and almost losing Pepper, he'd put in more effort than he ever had. He visited the grave where no body was buried, leaving flowers and trinkets and books he knew she would have loved. He talked. To people who had known her like he had. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and even Natasha.

The two had been so close when the woman had spied on him. Closer than he had been, still trying to change and learn to be a father better than his own after Afghanistan. He'd been dying and hadn't focused on anything but himself. About what he wanted to do before he was gone, instead of what would happen to his family afterwards.

So Tony tried. He tried a lot, but trying didn't always end in success. No, sometimes it ended in helicarriers made for HYDRA to control. Or a robot meant to protect only trying to destroy. Or in the fracturing of the Avengers, with Natasha and Steve on the run while the others sat in a max security prison that he spent every living moment trying to get them out of.

Except for now. Or maybe now too. Tony didn't know why Natasha had texted him. Only that she had betrayed him and texted only a couple of weeks later with a location out in Birmingham, England and nothing else but the message 'Get here quick.'

And he had. With nothing but a quick word to Pepper to keep Ross off of his aching back for a day, he'd stepped onto his plane and arrived in just over six hours. From there the billionaire had stepped into a waiting car and zoomed towards the address the spy had sent him, his heart racing just as fast as the vehicle's as he curved through city traffic.

Tony's thoughts strayed to Steve and Barnes and what had happened the last time he'd zoomed off to help his teammate. He swallowed down on his stuttering fear, reassured partly by the guantlet-watch sat snugly on his wrist and partly because he knew Natasha. Well, he knew her better than he ever had Steve anyway. Him and Natasha had fought, and there'd always been room for disagreements and anger, but at the end of the day they knew each other. And they were family.

The mechanic pulled up outside the run-down apartment complex, giving it a onceover before parking, pulling a baseball cap on low, and stepping out.

There was a drizzle, light and cold for the summer, even in England. He frowned, but only pulled his hood up with a shiver and stepped through the rusted metal gate, allowing him access to the first floor of apartments and a set of spindly stairs that he hoped didn't lead to any kind of locked door. He didn't exactly have a key, and Tony would prefer to not draw any attention to himself while here.

The man didn't need anymore grief from Ross. Not while he was desperate to pin something on Tony, and meeting with a violator of the Accords wouldn't exactly do much for his public image.

Biting on a sigh, Tony headed up the stairs towards the apartment number that Natasha had sent him. Thankfully, there was no locked door in his way, and the only person in the hallway that the stairs had led him to seemed to be much too out of it to pay him any mind. Quicker than he really would have liked, Tony was outside Apartment 9B, the number rusted and close to falling off of its hinges. Sucking in a breath, he knocked.

It only took a few seconds for the door to click! and then crack open just enough for him to catch familiar blue eyes and cropped platinum hair interrupted by a second lock's chain.

Natasha let out a short breath of relief, unlocking the door fully and opening the door just enough that he could slip inside. He glanced around the apartment once as she locked the door back up, surprised to see it was basically exactly what he had expected. It was small and old, orderly but not quite well-kempt, with evidence of past fights staining and fracturing the walls.

"Nice place," he commented. "Very runaway."

"Very last minute," Natasha responded. "It's not as easy as you think it is to get an apartment when everyone's trying to arrest you."

"You seem to slip away no matter what. By the way, how did you get away from Ross last week? I've got to know your trick on that, because I could use some pointers."

Natasha stopped beside him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite his forcefully loose and nonchalant posture, Tony felt himself freeze up looking at the Avenger. Her expression, no matter what it was, had always been hard for Tony to discern when she was practically the perfect spy. But now, this smile--it was sad and joyful and regretfully guilty.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice dropping to something softer. Rarely sincere.

Natasha glanced away from him to stare at a door for a moment before glancing back at him. Her lips twitched and her eyes threatened tears in a way that he hadn't thought she would express to him.

She swallowed. "Penny's alive. And I found her."

Tony--

Tony didn't react. Not for nearly a minute. Instead he stared, his entire body stilling--even his damaged heart--before he seemed to come back to life all at once like a broken wound-up toy.

The man stumbled back a step, falling into the nearest gray wall. One lonely breath coming in in a strangled gasp as he willed for something--anything--to make sense. 

"She's alive?"

Natasha nodded.

"How?" he demanded. "How--in England? From New York? There's no way anybody could've just taken her while I was--"

The man cut himself off, dragging in another wheeze that rattled through his entire chest. His legs began to collapse under him, but his friend caught him, managing to maneuver him onto the floor slowly. Tony leaned against the wall as Natasha sat beside him, her head propped up against the wall beside him.

Neither said anything. Not for a few minutes at least at Tony's shaking and gasping ebbed. Not until he could force out images and nightmares of Penny his mind had tortured him with for years. He locked them in a box and dropped it in an ocean of useless thoughts, because his daughter was alive. Because she wasn't dead and none of it--a painful death full of fear and confusion while Tony was only blocks away that he had been tortured by for years--had ever happened.

Natasha spoke up when he'd finally managed to take in eight consistent breaths.

"I was raised in the Red Room," she started. "I was taken from my family and tortured for years. I tried to make a family there, and I did. For a little bit at least. But that family was taken too, replaced by the only world I had ever known. One based on pain and dictated structure. A cruel trick to play on a child, but it was normal for the Red Room. What wasn't normal was me not only succeeding more than they had ever dreamed, but succeeding past them. Escaping and deserting. Killing Dreykov was the last step of my defection to SHIELD. It was revenge and justice all at once. The others would be freed and I could clear out my ledger in a life I chose."

She swallowed, taking a moment.

"I failed. I failed and I didn't know." Natasha turned from staring ahead at the wall to stare at Tony. Suffering blue met broken brown, tired and guilty reflecting. In a whisper, she said, "Dreykov lived. He lived until a week ago. And the Red Room, and every Widow in it, lived under him."

Tony was touched to be trusted this much. To be trusted with even a sliver of what his friend had gone through in such a time of suspicion and betrayal. But he was scared. He was terrified, because Natasha never shared just to share. Everything she said had a point, a reason, a direction.

He tore his eyes away, shoving a hand over them and letting his head drop onto his knees. Unwillingly, he croaked, "No... Nat, please don't tell me--"

"Penny's a Widow."

Tony bit his lip, chewing on his cheek so harshly there was the tang of blood in his mouth. He took a moment, letting his head fall against the cracked and stained cement wall. Penny was alive. And she had been trained--no. Natasha's descriptions, however few and miniscule they had been, could not be described as simply training. Penny had been tortured. For four years. And what had he done but grieve and give up? If only he'd known. If only he'd found out sooner.

Natasha continued.

"The Red Room..." She took a breath and licked her lips. "After I escaped, they changed their whole system. Their method. How they hid and how they trained and--and how they controlled the women."

Something about the way Natasha said the last part sent a cold feeling down his throat.

"What did they do to her?" he croaked.

"They um...well, for lack of my understanding of it, they mind controlled her."

"They--Nat what? How would they even--"

"They controlled the brain’s neuropathways through external manipulation," came a new voice, their accent thick. Tony whipped his head around to stare at a woman he had never seen before. Like Natasha, she wore a regular hoodie and sweatpants but still looked as though she could take his life in less than a minute. There was an intensity about her, from her stance to her tied back hair to her ghostly blue eyes that stared at him suspiciously. "It was based off of blueprints for the Winter Soldier. Me and Natasha were part of the mission to retrieve them when we were young."

Despite the insanity of every new piece of information shot his way, he managed to piece it together in his head quickly enough that he opened his mouth to respond with a snapped remark, but Natasha managed to speak before he did.

"What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be looking after Penny."

"I was, but then I heard how badly you were explaining everything and I came to help." Natasha glared. "Relax. I finished braiding her hair and now she's pretending to be asleep so she can listen to everyone talking."

The last part was said with a pointed look down the narrow apartment hall, but everything after Natasha had said "Penny" didn't seem to make sense anymore.

"She's here?" he asked, already scrambling to his feet. He glanced between Natasha and the woman desperately. "Penny's here right now?"

"We found her yesterday," Natasha answered cautiously. "Me and Yelena just started to free the Widows deployed around the world. We managed to give her the antidote during a shootout in Estonia. After that a friend of mine managed to get us here."

"A shoot--is she okay?"

"Just a couple of burns," Yelena said. "She may be enhanced, but she still has plenty to learn. She could still kick your ass, though."

"Thank you. Truly," Tony said, a bite of sarcasm to his voice, before turning back to Natasha, his desperation bubbling. "Which room?"

"Tony, I don't think you need to just go bursting in there. Let me--"

Tony stopped listening, every word his friend was saying dying out on his ears as he spotted a brunette and wide brown eyes poking around the corner over Natasha's shoulder. He felt his breath catch in his throat as their eyes clicked.

Penny had grown. She'd sprouted almost an entire foot from the short ten year old she had been, awkward and gangly limbs that the girl had always seemed to struggle with were replaced by obvious muscle and carefully controlled movement as she stepped out from behind the wall, their stare still holding. Despite the sharper angle of her chin and jaw, she still held baby fat in her cheeks that dwindled the look of her down by a couple of years, not helped at all by the familiar roundness of her deeply brown eyes.

He swallowed. His voice broke.

"Penny?"

—-

“Penny?"

It had been years since Penny had seen her dad. Since she'd heard him. Anything about her father not privy to missions had been carefully shielded away from the teenager for years. Sometimes on the few missions she had been sent on she would catch news clippings and pictures on TV channels before she had to move on or that terrible voice in her mind would force her to ignore him. But, despite the scarcity of which she was allowed to know about her father, she had always thought about him.

Penny had swam in her memories whenever she could. Whenever she needed. She'd think about the games she and her dad had used to play. About lessons he'd taught her and days they'd spent together. About hugs and braided hair and kisses to her head. The memories had felt faint and washed away underneath everything, but she'd clung to them like a lifeline.

That being said, she hadn't expected Dad's voice to sound like that. For him to look like this. He was always so put together in her mind--so strong--even when he was messy from the lab or tired from a long day of work, always accompanied by fond child-like adoration. But now he didn't look it.

There were bruises on his face, faint but still noticeably purple. His hair wasn't as dark or thick as she remembered, growing back just a little higher on his hairline, and more lines grabbed and pulled at his face. But that wasn't what ruined her memory of strength and warmth, people aged after all, that was just reality. It was the expression on his face and glossing over his eyes. It was the way he'd said her name, so unsure and weary.

Penny, finally, looked away from Dad, instead glancing over at Yelena and trying not to look like she was too desperate for help. Yelena stared back, raising her brows and gesturing to Tony with a slight nod of her head, as if telling her to not be a coward. But Penny didn't know how to do that. Not now.

Thankfully, Natasha took over.

"I'm going to go get us some dinner. Yelena?"

Okay, so not the kind of help she'd been looking for.

Yelena gave Penny one last glance, nodded, and then followed the Avenger out of the door.

The door clicked shut and then it was just father and daughter.

"Penny," he tried again.

She hid a flinch at how small and tired his voice was, how broken he felt standing only feet from her. She hid her shock and her fear and apprehension exactly how she'd been taught, schooling her features into something easy and bored. She let her shoulders drop and her posture loosen, but the hardest part was hardening her stare. That had always been the biggest complaint of her handlers. Her senses had been sharp but her expression always so readable by her eyes.

"Hi, Dad," she said, her voice cool and casual on default. The words felt terrible leaving her lips, so she crossed her arms in an attempt to feel more stable. "It's been a while."

He chuckled, short and sad. "Yeah. You could say that."

And then there was silence. It trickled in, slow, awkward, and tense between them. Penny tried not to let it get to her, but she couldn't deny that she wasn't tired and disappointed. When Yelena had smashed the antidote beside her, it was the first time the teenager had seen clearly in a long time, and her first thought had been of her Dad. There had been worries about if he missed her and if he'd been okay, but a fear had stabbed at her so strongly that she was still thinking about it.

Would he still love her? After all she'd done? She had hurt people. She had killed people. Not in defense. Not in good reason. But in fear and control.

"I, uh..." Penny blinked at her dad's voice, beating away her thoughts and instead focusing back on the bruised and stuttering man in front of her. "Sorry. I would've thought of something better to say if I'd known I was going to see you again. Maybe some presents too. Do you still like those peanut butter cookies?"

"The ones we used to make?" she asked. "With the Hershey Kisses?"

"Those are the ones."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't had them since I was with you."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess you wouldn't have..." he trailed off, glancing down for a moment. She stared at him, watching his expression carefully as he loosened and looked back up at her. "Well, we can't make them again? At home?"

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Penny couldn't stand how dull her voice sounds, like she couldn't care less about something that really made her want to cry in happiness. But...she didn't know what else to do. What to say. The Red Room had made sure she always knew what to do and what to say, but that had been for politicians and businessmen and people she was supposed to trick. She didn't want to trick her dad. She just--she wanted to--

Dad stepped closer, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down in a deep and concerned frown. She kept a wary eye on him as he approached, trying to force down feelings of apprehension and fear that she had become familiar with whenever anybody was in her space. But he stopped about a foot short, his reached out hand halting just away from her face as he whispered, "Oh, piccolina. It's okay." His voice broke. "It's okay. I'm gonna make sure it is... I promise."

And finally she broke.

And it hurt. It really, really hurt.

Penny leaned her cheek into his open hand as hot beads of tears caught on her eyelashes, allowing for Dad to cup his other hand around the back of her head and tentatively pull her in. It took the teenager a moment to adjust, so wired on the need to fight and never let her guard down, but then she just--crumpled.

Like a switch had been flicked, Penny buried her nose into his neck and wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze, swallowing down tears. Dad pulled her in tighter, his nose pressed into her tightly braided crown.

And then he sobbed.

It was a strangled, inhuman kind of sound that rumbled from his chest to escape the back of his throat. He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed, but Penny wasn't an idiot. She could still hear his heart thumping and feel a tear slip from his chin onto the back of her neck. It all shocked her, but the sound found itself ringing in her ears painfully more than anything.

She flinched in his hug.

"Oh, Penny. I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice sore with tears. "So, so sorry."

"For what?" she asked. "Not finding me? You wouldn't have been able to, Dad, even being you. Draykov made sure of it."

"I don't care. I should've done something! I should've--I should've--"

"Dad." He fell silent as she pulled away from him, crossing her arms back over her chest as she came back to her training. Dad stared at her, his dark copper eyes as guilty as she felt. "Please, just... Don't be sorry. Because I'm sorry, and if you're sorry then we're both sorry and we can't both be sorry it's--"

"What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Penny--"

"I'm not ten anymore, Dad. I don't think I'm even a kid anymore... I've--I've done too much harm. I have a lot to be sorry for."

Dad stared at her, a familiar sadness in his eyes. He chewed his cheek, brows furrowed in thought, and she was brought back to a time when she would watch him solve problems in the lab, or try to answer one of her inane questions that she never seemed to be able to stop asking.

"Let me ask you something," he started. "Do you think I'm a bad person? That I'm at fault for losing you?"

"No," she answered immediately, because her dad had always tried, no matter what. She'd known he wasn't perfect, and that a lot of people hated him for the mistakes he'd made, but she'd always known how much he really cared. How much he really cared and tried for the world. For the Avengers. For her.

"Well, then what makes you a bad person? What makes you not a kid anymore?"

Penny could only stare. She could only answer, "I've hurt people."

"I know. And I have too. But you don't think I'm a bad person, so you're not a bad person either. And what about Nat? Or your new very scary friend?"

"I forgot how much I hated arguing with you," she deadpanned.

"'Trying' to argue with me," he corrected, a smile pulling at his face. Surprisingly, she managed to smile back. Even more surprisingly, it didn't feel fake. Sure, it was small and tired, but Penny couldn't remember the last time she'd actually smiled. "See? Everything's going to be okay."

"How do you know?" she asked. "I'm a violator of the Accords. If it ever gets out that I was part of the Red Room--what I did for the Red Room--almost nothing could keep me out of prison. You'll have to explain how you found me and it would make you a violator--"

"I'll handle it," Dad said. "I always handle it. And just because you don't feel like a kid doesn't mean you aren't one. There are protections for you. And we found protections for Nat. Wanda too, if she would've taken them." He muttered the last part under his breath, the words emotionless but regret and guilt clear in his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked back at her with a raised brow. "And how do you know about the Accords? Do they have a current events class in the Red Room?"

"We do actually have to keep up with some events for missions. But, no. I've been reading old newspapers. Did you know you were on the front page for almost two weeks in June?"

"No. Nobody reads the paper anymore. Unless you're a dinosaur anyway."

"Uncle Rhodey likes the paper," she said with that still small but still real smile. "For the crossword puzzles."

"Yeah. Like I said: Dinosaur." With that, the jokes seemed to slide away as he took on a more serious tone. "But I'll handle it. I've already been trying to handle the Accords. You'll be safe, and free, at home, Penny. I promise."

"I can really come home?"

Dad paused. "Did you think you wouldn't?"

Penny shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to. I want to. But I just... I didn't know how safe it would be, and I know how to live by myself. How to avoid suspicion. I was...I was prepared for other options."

"If you were planning on running, why did you meet with me?"

"I don't know," she said. But truthfully, there had been a hole in her heart. A knot in her stomach. She'd just--she'd needed to see her dad. To apologize and let him know she was okay. She'd missed her family for so long, she had to imagine they'd missed her too. In fact, Penny had wanted nothing more to know they'd missed her. That those years in the Red Room wondering where her family was hadn't been because they didn't care.

Realistically, Penny knew Dad had missed her. Had loved her enough to grieve and look for her, but being there for so long--so terribly long--had been enough for seeds of doubt to sprout and root itself in her mind. But the teenager didn't tell her dad that. That would make him upset, and Penny was tired of being upset. Instead, she said, "Just missed you. Wanted to know that you're okay."

"Well, now you're gonna know every day," he said. "And you're going to know that Pepper is okay. And Rhodey and Happy. And you're never going to miss us again."

"Never?"

"Nope. Well, maybe when you go to school. But we can homeschool if you would prefer that. Would you?"

"Oh, uh, I don't--"

"Yeah, never mind. You don't have to know right now," he said with a wave. Then he smiled at her again, that genuine smile that squinted his eyes and pulled at his wrinkled laugh lines. "Right now, why don't we just go home?"

"Yeah," she said. And suddenly no other thought occupied her mind. Home was all she could think of. Of tall New York skyscrapers and the bustling city. Or maybe they'd go back to Malibu, even if his house was gone. Either way she'd see her uncle again. And Pepper. And Happy, who were all family to her. Family she hadn't seen in so long. "Let's go home."

Dad smiled, his eyes misty. Penny smiled back, taking his hand and leaning against him in another hug. He readily accepted, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

The best part: Nothing about him whispered danger. Or discomfort or uneasiness. There was just...comfort.

Just home.

It was the best feeling in the entire world.

—-

“Should we tell Uncle Rhodey we're on the way?"

"Nah. He loves surprises."

"He hates surprises."

"Exactly!"

Penny laughed. And the sound, the feeling, was just like home.

[fangirlovestuff]

Wanda Saves Valentine’s - Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this is based on this lovely request right here, thank you so much:) i probably have at least one more valentine’s fic coming your way today cause i’m going through the requests for the sleepover, so watch out for that;) i hope you enjoy!!<3

Summary: you think Valentine’s won’t be as good this year, but Wanda proves you wrong.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury (getting shot), nothing graphic. apart from that, very fluffy as per the request:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You tried to stifle your grunt as you made your way off the Quinjet, clutching into your shoulder, which was pulsing in pain. You wobbled a little, the pain getting stronger with your movement, and Nat caught onto you, on your side that wasn't hurt, thankfully, to keep you steady.

"I'm fine," you try to shove her hand off, but it lost its power when you couldn't stop the muffled sound of pain coming from your mouth.

"C'mon," she said, trying to get closer again, "you need-"

"What I need is-" you started objecting, but the words caught in your throat as you caught sight of Wanda coming towards you, running once she got a good enough look at the state you were in. Once she got to you, you pulled her into a tight hug with your unhurt arm, wincing slightly at the contact, but it was so, so worth it.

God, you'd missed her so much.

Taking a deep breath, your senses flooding with her scent, you tried to compose yourself and not fall apart right there.

"What happened?" she asked with a soft frown, her eyes trained on your bloody shoulder.

"Nothing," you said, while at the same time Nat said, "she got shot. Protected a kid that was running around, looking for his mom. She pushed him away just in time. it went through her shoulder."

You averted your eyes to the floor as she said it, not knowing what Wanda's reaction would be.

You heard her huff out a long breath before you felt her hand cupping your chin, nudging it upwards to meet her gaze. You didn't think she'd be mad, but you didn’t expect the soft smile you saw on her face, her shining eyes filling with unshed tears. "Of course she did," she said softly, keeping her eyes staring into yours.

You flashed a small smile at her, unsure of what to say. Apparently, you didn't have to say anything, as she simply looped her arm around your unhurt one, leading you towards the compound.

"Of course, when Wanda tries to help, she lets her," you heard Natasha grumbling under her breath, causing you to look at Wanda. You two giggled slightly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda left you alone to get checked up and bandaged, saying she'll be right back. When she returned, the medic was just finishing up bandaging your shoulder. They gave you a painkiller beforehand, so you nearly didn't feel when the bandage was tightened around your wounded skin.

"And remember, bedrest, alright? No moving too much for a couple of days," the medic said, smiling at you.

"Yeah, I know," you sighed but still returned a tired yet grateful smile.

"Ready to go?" Wanda asked, offering you her hand to help you up.

"As I'll ever be," you chuckled, taking her hand in yours and lacing your fingers together before getting up, giving the medic one last wave before finally heading towards Wanda and your room.

When you entered, your first instinct was to plop down on the bed, but your shoulder certainly wouldn't allow that, so you laid down more delicately, pulling Wanda with you. She wrapped her arms around you, and you leaned back against her chest.

You stayed like that for a while before you turned your head around to see Wanda already smiling at you. You smiled back and craned your neck to plant your lips on hers in a soft kiss, pulling away while your foreheads were still resting together. You let out a sigh of content, your eyes still closed. When you opened them, your eyes found Wanda's.

"Hi," you smiled.

"Hey there," she giggled.

"I'm sorry I got myself hurt," you said, needing to get it off of your chest, "I know tomorrow's Valentine's, and I was so excited that we could come home and I could take you out, but then, you know, there was the fight and-"

"Hey," she cut you off softly, "I get it. I don't want you to get hurt, but it's our job to protect others. You take that job seriously, and you care, and I love you for it. Just be careful, okay?" she kissed your forehead fleetingly.

"I am. But, you know, if I had to choose… I'd do it again," you looked up at her.

"I know," she whispered, gently swiping your hair away from your face, "I'm just happy you came home to me. That's what matters," she continued stroking your hair.

"Wanda," you turned around, cupped her cheek in your palm, "I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled, and you leaned forward, pressing your lips together once more, kissing her. You felt like you were melting against her, the tension finally seeping away from your aching body.

You were home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning when you woke up, she wasn't there. You frowned, rubbing your eyes, and then you smelled the cup of tea that, presumably, Wanda put on the nightstand. You put it to your lips, inhaling the scent before taking a sip. It was still pretty warm, so she couldn't have left too long ago.

"Honey?" you called out tentatively. No answer. You indulged yourself and drank the tea in bed, moving your bandaged shoulder a bit, trying to keep it from turning stiff. Just when you were about to get up, you heard the door open and close quietly.

"Wanda?" you tried.

"Good morning," she smiled as she entered the room, a small bag in her hands. She sat down on the bed, putting it on the floor before kissing you gently. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fantastic," you grinned. "So, since I can see you're not gonna tell me what's in that bag by yourself, I just have to ask – what's in that bag?"

She giggled slightly before taking out a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Grinning, she handed it to you. "I know it's cliché, but it's chocolate," she shrugged.

You opened it only to be hit with the smell of it, making you inhale and smile. "I love it. and I love you," you leaned in to kiss her once more. "Happy Valentine's day."

"Happy Valentine's day."

You shared some of the chocolates in comfortable silence, and you hummed in appreciation as you put another one into your mouth. "Okay, okay," you closed the box, "I think we better pace ourselves," you smiled as you put it on the nightstand, next to the long-empty cup of tea.

"We probably should," Wanda grinned in agreement. She was lying down next to you at this point, your legs intertwined.

"So," she started, "since you're on bed rest, I thought maybe we could watch some movies. Maybe those Star Wars ones you're always telling me about," she smiled.

"I still can't believe you've never watched them," you scoffed, prompting her to chuckle. "Seriously, they're classics," you continued, making her burst into laughter at your antics, and you joined her.

When you too calmed down, you spoke softly. "That sounds like a great idea, babe. But first," you detached yourself from her, slowly lifting yourself from the bed, "I believe I still owe you a present," you smirked.

Digging through your drawer, you found what you were looking for. The box was wrapped in pink and red wrapping paper, appropriate for the occasion. You hoped she'd like it.

"Open it," you handed it to her, sitting back down on the bed. She looked at you, shaking it slightly next to her ear, trying to gauge what it is. You bit your lips in anticipation as she tore through the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the beautiful necklace you'd gotten her. It was a simple, thin silver chain with a pendant of a ruby heart. She gasped, a beam stretching onto her features as she took it out, holding it delicately.

"You like it?" you asked, smiling.

"I love it!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around you, "thank you. Put it on for me?"

You took it from her hands, and she moved her hair aside so you could reach and clasp it around her neck. Her hand clutched onto the pendant, a grin still on her face.

"You look beautiful," you told her sincerely.

"I mean, with a necklace this pretty, I doubt anyone would look bad," she giggled.

"No," you shook your head with a smile, "it's definitely you."

You spent the rest of the day cuddling in bed, watching movies, only getting up to eat and shower. After the long mission, this was just what you needed; a day home with your favorite person in the whole wide world, just the two of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

i’d love to hear your thoughts!! also, expect some more wanda coming your way, i got two more requests for her and i wanna write them after i catch up with wandavision (yes, i’m not caught up yet🙈)

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Skinny Love II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: second part to skinny love. This is all angst. Very sad. I just watched the pain arc again and had to write something about Kakashi and what happens. Im guessing this could be tagged for spoilers but Naruto is old soooo. 

Word count: 5000

“I’m just saying, maybe the second novel is better than the first. You’re free to have your own opinion, that’s just what I think.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Whatever you say,” Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes at the masked man sitting in front of her. She was sipping on a hot bowl of broth after coming home from her most recent mission. It was a nice day out, and she thought it would be a good idea to go out and get something to eat with her favorite shinobi. He was dangerously possessive over his romance novels, and felt immense embarrassment when Y/N decided to pick them up as well. 

For a week after finishing the series, she mocked him for liking the gushy, mushy romance that lied on the pages, not to mention the more inappropriate chapters that left nothing to the imagination. Master Jiraiya wasn’t kidding when he said he was doing “research” at the bath house.

“We should go out more often,” he commented, “It’s nice to relax with all this Akatsuki business going on.”

“Definitely. We used to go out like this all the time before you started training those kids,” she hummed. It was true. They had normal outings at that point in time, as the only thing they did was go on missions and then chill at home until the next outing. After Naruto and Sasuke revealed their unique personalities, and got themselves into some sticky situations, the times changed and they spent much more time apart than before. “Not to mention going out with you gives me an excuse to eat whatever I want.”

He nodded in reply, his eyes trailing down to his novel once again which he was skimming over. She didn’t mind him reading at the table. What was he supposed to do? Eat? There was no way he would take off the mask. He was content just giving her company. 

His reading gave Y/N an excuse to admire him. Her eyes would lift from the table every time he looked down at the pages, and she would take in all his features. She swore, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, even with the mask. Without a mask, he probably resembled a god. It was nice to just watch as he relaxed into his novel, enjoying himself without any cares in the world. 

She liked to talk to him even more. He always knew the right thing to say to make her feel important and wanted, even on her worst of days, he was there to make it better. He was brave and strong, but kind and gentle when need be. His soft words in the late nights they hung out, or his concern when she injured herself, or the happiness the times she made him laugh. Each moment meant so much more to her than he realized. 

It was evident to everyone that she had an attachment to him. What kind exactly was the complicated part. While they had been friends for quite a long time, she felt like he was more than just a normal friend or even a best friend. He felt more like a partner than anything, whether it be partner-in-crime or partner-in-love. She loved him with every bone in her body, more than she loved her comrades or her friends, she cared for him like she would a lover.

Maybe it was because she was so shy that she couldn’t tell him how she felt after all this time. Maybe it was fear of rejection. Maybe it was fear of death. She wasn’t sure what held her back from confessing her love to him, spilling all those words she kept under lock and key. She wanted there to be something more, but he’d never let on that he cared for her that way, and surely he would have said something if he did feel that way. It just seemed impossible.

But not to the ordinary person. 

People had mentioned in passing to Kakashi that he acted like a lovesick teenager when he was around the woman. She was just so perfect, how could he do anything but adore her. To him, she was one of the only people that truly mattered as more than a fellow shinobi or comrade.

There was no reason to rush it though. If she truly wanted a relationship with him, she would tell him eventually. He wasn’t one to go around throwing out love confessions first. He would wait until she was comfortable and ready. Until then, he would admire her from a distance, through friendly touches and smiles, and dreamy looks when the other wasn’t watching. To him, that was enough. 

This lunch outing was the perfect time to waste some hours with her just talking and reading in the others company. The day almost felt too good to be true. 

And it was.

First there was the explosion, followed by the screams. Oh, those screams would haunt Y/N’s dreams. Villagers who she’d known growing up screaming in pain. Quickly, she jumped to her feet as did the copy nin.  Their eyes frantically looked through the doorway of the restaurant, but there wasn’t anything on their particular street, just dust from the explosion floating down in thick clouds. 

“Someone’s attacked the village. Shit,” he cursed under her breath. 

They would have to go out there and fight, they both knew that very well. Fight who, they didn’t know, but Y/N could sense that the same foreign chakra signature was coming at her from multiple directions in the village. That couldn’t be good. It was probably that Akatsuki member that everyone was talking about. Pain. Pain with the rinnegan. How could the leaf compete against something as strong as that dojutsu?

“Everybody out! You know the evacuation route,” Y/N called out to the civilians in the restaurant, as she swallowed her panic. She made a move to usher the people from the store so they could run in the direction of refuge.

This wasn’t a normal battle. These intruders were a completely different breed than the ones they were used to fighting. She could feel the impending doom start to blanket around her body, and she took a deep breath. How could this happen? Was Pain here to take Naruto? Naruto wasn’t even in the village, how could that be? Was it the Akatsuki making a big statement attacking one of the five great villages?

There was just something off. She could feel it. Today was going to be one of the worst days, worse than anything else they’d experienced.

“Y/N, let’s go.”

“Kakashi…” she trailed off, not taking a step forward just yet. Was there something she needed to get off her chest before they rushed into a battle with an outcome unknown? As she met his frantic, panicked eyes with her own, she wondered if she should just confess her feelings right then and there, just so he could know before they put their lives on the line. 

Never in her life did she think that her or Kakashi might die. It was never a thought that crossed her mind. She assumed she had all the time in the world to gather the courage to tell him. Now it felt like she had run out of time, and they might never get the chance to see each other again. The chakra signatures around them were just too strong to guarantee they would live against their blows. It felt like this was her final chance. 

She started again, “Kakashi, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hurry this along. She could see plainly that this wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t in the right mind to hear her words, or comprehend the meaning behind them. Instead, she lowered her head and sighed. 

And so she kept that secret tightly bound deep in her heart. 

“Nevermind, it’s not important. Just be safe out there. Make it back to me in one piece, okay?”

“You know I can’t promise that,” he replied, and her heart sank in her chest. He was right. If he died, he died. If she died, she died. Nothing could stop fate from doing its dirty work.

“Just promise me. Give me some confidence before we jump into this mess. I-I can’t do this without you promising me you’ll live!” She cried, passion and fear dripping off her words. She had her eyes shut tightly at this point, just trying to keep herself from letting the potential tears gather in her eyes. Her fists clenched by her side as well. “Just say something!”

He nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “I promise I’ll make it back to you, Y/N. Now promise you’ll live. For me,” he demanded, lifting her head to face him. His fingers were strong against her cheek, firm when faced with danger. He wanted her to live, but knowing that Pain killed Jiraiya was enough to make him worry and plan for the worst. 

Why was he even asking? He knew that words meant nothing. That most promises were just bound to be empty. 

Just this one time, he prayed that she’d keep it.

“I promise.”

“Now let’s go. I’ll take this side, and you go that way. Sounds like explosions came from both directions.”

“Got it.”

There was no room for goodbyes.

After that, they went their separate ways. Y/N had to keep herself from losing control. Everything was going to be okay. She was worrying far too much. Kakashi was strong. Stronger than anyone else she knew really. He couldn’t be taken down by some terrorists. It wasn’t an option.

As long as she could sense his chakra lingering in the distance, she would know. 

__________

It was painful, the wound that tore through her thigh. Blood dripped thickly from the cut, but she continued to fight. In this situation, there was nothing else to do, nothing more to fight for than the safety of the village and the people within it. Y/N has never seen a villain this bad, someone so dead set on killing and tormenting that it brought the shinobi of the village to their knees. Yet, here he was, this orange haired creature who popped up at multiple points of their city, each with a different signature move yet a similar chakra pattern.

Y/N knew she couldn’t break down just yet, not after seeing comrade after comrade fall to the ground and lose their lives to the cause. She had to keep going for them. For her friends and her family who died. She was never the most talented at fighting, she was more of a sensory type, stay on the inside and study type of kunoichi. But not today. No one had that luxury today.

Constantly, she could feel the loss of the ninja alongside her, their chakra signatures melting into nothing as blasts continued to ravage their village. The fire within their bodies burned for the last time, disappearing into the ashes.

It wasn’t until she was on her knees, face buried in the dirt and rubble did she really feel the pain this man was so desperate to bestow upon the villagers. Kakashi’s chakra had burned out. It was as if her body gave up after that. She couldn’t move, her bones were broken and she couldn’t afford to stand and fall back down once again, believe it that she tried over and over again. Nothing mattered at this point. How could it? She couldn’t feel her best friend’s chakra signature any longer. He was dead.

Her crying into the dirt was the only thing that signalled another shinobi to come and help her to the infirmary. Someone she barely knew had picked her up by the arm and hoisted it over his shoulder, dragging her by his side to the hospital where the medical nin were no doubt working harder than ever. Her whole body felt like it was caked in bloody crimson mud, dust up her nose and muk between her teeth. 

Everything just made her cry harder and harder until she felt she was gasping to breathe. 

The harsh lights in the building did nothing but sting her eyes, and the dozens of medical nin rushing around those lying on the floor overwhelmed her. 

Sakura stood at the front of all the mess, and her eyes immediately caught onto Y/N and her rescuer. “Y/N-sensei, what happened to you?” she cried, rushing over with her frantic hands hovering over the state of the broken woman as she scanned for the wounds. This only caused more sobbing.

“One second she was fine, the next she was lying in the dirt screaming. I don’t know,” the man said, handing her off to the pink haired girl. “She’s got broken legs, I know that.”

“Thank you for bringing her,” she mumbled as she brought her sensei over to an empty cot, sitting her down on the cloth and beginning the healing process on the worst part of her leg where the bone was exposed. She was shaking so badly it was almost hard to concentrate on her work. She’d never seen Y/N so hopeless and lost. She was strong, she never faltered in the face of danger. It worried Sakura, no doubt.

“Sensei, what happened?”

“It’s Kakashi,” the woman croaked between her harsh breaths. “I-I can’t feel his chakra anymore.” Tears ran down her cheeks furiously, dripping from her chin into her lap. She felt the hopelessness overtake her entire person, the only thing left being complete and utter fear. Her chest heaved, desperate for the next gulp of air into her lungs. 

Sakura nearly faltered at the words. Kakashi sensei, dead? How could that be? He was one of the strongest shinobi they knew. He would never fall victim to a villain, would he? From the sounds of Y/N’s heartbroken cries, the medical nin knew that it was over. That another life had been stolen from them. 

Kakashi was Y/N’s heart and soul. She loved him for years and planned to love him for many more. Everyone knew that. Kakashi and her may have never acknowledged their feelings before his death, but the skinny love lingered in the air every time they were around each other. 

The longing looks when they passed each other in the street. The pain they felt when the other was hurt. The smiles they shared when something good happened in their no-good shinobi lives. They were more than willing to lay their lives on the line for the other, more than just a comrade, more than a friend. 

Her passion for Kakashi was the only good thing she had to come home to after missions. His face was the one thing she wanted to see after a bad day. His stupid face as he read his perverted novels, that grin that she positively adored.

All of that was gone, and her heart couldn’t take it. The pain from her injuries sat in the back of her mind, the only thing she could focus on was the loss. Knowing she would never see him again, never hear his voice. If only she could hear him laugh one more time. It was impossible, but she wished to the heavens above for mercy.

Sadly, no one was there to listen. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sakura whispered, not knowing what else to say. What could she say? 

“I need him. I can’t do this without him,” she sobbed, her hands shaking by her side, having to clench her fists just to stop the tremors. “Sakura, it’s been 15 years. I...I don’t know a life without him.”

Her heart broke at the words. It was true. She didn’t know life anymore without Kakashi. They’d been friends and comrades for so long that it seemed like that was all she knew. How can you come back from that? Sakura didn’t know. She might be able to heal the woman’s legs, but there was no way she could begin to heal such a broken heart. 

“It’s okay. You have plenty of others. You have Gai and Kurenai and-”

“Fuck everyone else. You know they can’t replace him,” she snapped. “No one can replace him.”

Sakura could only nod solemnly. They could lie all day and pretend that Gai would somehow swoop in and make up for that gaping hole in her heart. They could lie and say that Kurenai and her child would fill Y/N with a happiness she felt with Kakashi. Yes, they could certainly lie about it all. 

At the end of the day though, her pain would be unrivalled. Losing the one man you’ve loved from the moon and back. It would take an entire army and then some to combat such a struggle. 

When Sakura was done healing the woman, she handed her a roll of bandages from her pocket. “I’ve got to tend to others. Wrap this around your calf and then stay here to rest. Please, just rest yourself, sensei. You’ll heal faster that way.” Y/N took the bandages and nodded her head weakly, shaky hands going to wrap her bare and burned calf with the medical bandages.

Her mind still centered around Kakashi. She found herself curling up into a ball on the little bench she was sat at, hugging her knees close to her chest. She just cried. Right now, she couldn’t do anything else. 

Just cry.

________

The village was in complete and utter ruin. Y/N lay painfully utop a mountain of rubble, blood oozing from the back of her head and from her already injured leg. Pain’s final attack, one that completely demolished the village...it spared her life.

How could things get any fucking worse? 

She felt like the Gods were being especially cruel to her on this day. Especially cruel to every single person in the village, but they kept Y/N alive for their own personal amusement, laughing at her loss and her pain and her  frustration. 

Despite Lady Tsunade sending out Katsuyu to protect the villagers, Y/N only seemed to be in worse shape than before. She could feel the slug on her shoulder slowly healing her, but it wasn’t much compared to the pain and the numerous injuries.

Y/N rolled onto her side and groaned, pain shooting up her spine and giving her a brain-shattering headache. When she went to cough on something thick and slimy in her throat, what splattered on the ground was red. Maybe she was just meant to die slow and painfully. 

It was better this way, she decided. Nothing could make this day worth it. Nothing. The pain was unbearable.

“Y/N? Is that you?” a feminine voice called from a little while away, and the woman cursed, spitting up more blood as she did so. Sakura climbed through some of the rubble to approach her. Her hands hovered over the woman’s broken body, scanning over all her wounds. 

Naruto was down there fighting Pain. Everything was going to be okay as long as they had faith in the Uzumaki. Sakura could focus a bit of her energy on healing her sensei. There was nothing else to do except watch the fight below them, in the center of the wasteland that used to be the Hidden Leaf.

She began the healing process, medical chakra flowing into the woman’s chest wounds, the most critical of all. “Sakura…”

“What is it, Y/N?”

“What’s happening? Is everyone dead?”

“No, everyone is alive. Lady Tsunade sent out Katsuyu to protect everyone. It seems that you were injured before your healing slug could get to you. Thankfully, you have both of us to fix you up,” she muttered. Y/N would have been blind to not notice the way Sakura stared past her deeper into the wreckage as she spoke. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly, as loud as her body could muster.

“It’s Naruto. He’s out there fighting Pain alone,” she said, “He-he’s gotten so much stronger.”

The older woman smiled through her pain, shutting her eyes and letting a soft sigh leave her lips. She hadn’t anticipated Naruto to come saving the day, in fact, it seemed more likely that Pain would kill everyone and leave the village in ruin. Fortunately, Kakashi’s student, the one that people had underestimated for so long, was out there doing what the rest of them couldn’t. 

A hero. No matter if he won or not, these are the actions of a hero.

“It’s his destiny: to save this village,” she whispered. “Jiraiya once said so.”

“Let’s hope he was right.”

Together they lay there in the middle of ruin while Naruto battled Pain. They watched as the two men launched themselves away from the village into the woods, the nine tailed fox coming to life far away from where they huddled together. The village was safe from direct harm at this point and the two women let down their guard just a little bit. Down in the middle of the pit some of the students started to gather, including a heavily injured Hinata.

“Help me down there, Sakura. I need to see Gai,” she said, louder than before. After all that time healing, she found herself strong enough to prop up on her elbows and gaze into the destruction. 

Once down there, Sakura was quick to start healing Hinata, fearing that the girl had taken too much damage to handle. After all, she charged against Pain, the supposedly leader of this terrorist attack. All of that to help out young Naruto. Y/N felt like she was staring at an image of herself for a moment. A young woman ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of the man she loved. 

As her eyes moved around the area, she caught onto the bright green outfit of her long time friend. His eyes caught hers for a moment and quickly, he rushed over to her side. She collapsed onto her knees, wincing at the pain that ran through her body as she did so. She found herself still a bit too weak to stand. 

“Y/N, you’re alive,” he gasped. He knelt on the ground beside her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her shaky form. “Your injuries-”

“Forget about that, Gai,” she mumbled. “Something terrible has happened.” He couldn’t imagine what she had to say could be any worse than the destruction of the entire village. But he nodded and sat there listening as she spoke her words carefully, painfully with each syllable that left her lips. “Kakashi is dead.”

He felt his heart drop in his chest. As he looked at the woman before him, he knew that she wanted nothing more to cry, yet there were no tears. He assumed that she had already cried her fill earlier and could only mourn at this point. He didn’t ask before wrapping her smaller form up in his arms and tugging her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shoulder, dry sobs causing her entire form to quiver.

In a moment like this one, he just remained still for her. Sit there and be there through this pain. He felt crushed at the thought of his best friend dead, his eternal rival somewhere out there in all that rubble fatally injured. Gai had lost a brother that day, and Y/N had lost her one and only lover.

He listened as she hopelessly bawled in the comfort of his arms, feeling every bit of her pain sink into his form. They had gone through battles together before, they grew up teammates and friends, how could they not. They had seen death and pain all their lives. This was on another level, incomprehensible to either of them. 

Pure misery. Every emotion seemed to burn in her chest. She wanted to curl up and die herself.

________

It felt like hours went by before the lives were returned. She hadn’t thought much of it when the elderly Toad woke up from his eternal slumber. For a moment, she thought it was just a fluke. That he had never really died in the first place, they just thought he did. But then, she watched as people above the trench started to stand from their resting places on the ground and in the rubble. 

That is when she realized that somehow, someway, the lives lost during this terrible battle had been reclaimed. It was only a matter of time before she found out if Kakashi had come back to life as well. She sat there, focusing all her energy into sensing nearby chakra, sorting through hundreds of people for the one she wanted. 

Gai had left to help out some of the others, so she just sat there waiting. Waiting for Kakashi to come back to her. Just like he promised.

After all this chaos, she couldn’t imagine keeping her love a secret from him any longer. He needed to know. She wouldn’t let this opportunity go wasted. Y/N was given a second chance at finding love in her friend, and she would be damned if she let that go to waste. 

After a while, she began to feel his chakra. At first it was very faint, like he was a mile away hidden underneath rocks and everything else you could imagine. But then it got stronger. 

He was alive.

When she saw his form climb down into the pit with the rest of them, his mask torn and only the bottom layer of his clothes still intact, she nearly cried once again. For hours before this, she was prepared to never see him alive again, never see that masked face look down upon hers once more. She had mourned the loss of Kakashi Hatake, only for him to be returned. 

It was as if the God’s had listened to her prayers.

“Kakashi!” she exclaimed as she struggled to get herself up from the ground. She knelt on one knee, pushing herself up with the other, desperate to walk over to him. Her body failed her of course, and she fell back onto her butt. He noticed her though, her tiny figure in the crowd of hundreds. She was the one person he wanted to find all along. 

He fell onto his knees beside her, his hands coming up to grasp her cheeks with his dusty, calloused hands. She relaxed into his rough fingers, sinking into the warmth that he was sharing. His thumbs slid along her lips and chin, trying to rub away the dirt that was caked in some places. She was a mess, messier than he was. He could only imagine the suffering that she went through as well, to have survived all of that without death as a retreat in the middle.

“Y/N, what happened to you?”

“Pain’s final blow caused some pretty bad wounds, but it’s fine. Sakura healed me enough that I’ll make it through,” she told him. Softly, she lifted her hands to place them over top his, her fingers slowly wrapping around his. “Kakashi, you broke your promise to me.”

“I know.”

She found that the words came out faster than she anticipated. Emotions and feelings being laid out in the open for him to see/ “I-I completely lost myself when I couldn’t feel your chakra anymore. I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t stop crying, and I was angry at you for breaking your promise to me,” she rambled, “I didn’t know what I was gonna do without you.”

“It’s alright. I’m here now. Whatever Naruto has done saved my life,” he soothed, letting their hands fall into her lap. She wouldn’t let go of his hands even if he wanted them to himself. She was afraid. Afraid that if she let him go once more that he would be gone forever. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. I really shouldn’t have died like that. So irresponsible of me.”

There he was cracking a fucking joke about his own death. She wanted to smack him for being so dimwitted in a moment of vulnerability. Just the thought of being with him again made tears spring up in her eyes, and she shut her eyes to keep them from falling. Happy tears or not, she wasn’t going to cry again.

 “I need to tell you what I was too afraid to say before. What I wanted to say before we went our separate ways,” she confessed, her breaths coming out harsh and rushed. Once again, she gripped his hands tighter in hers. 

After taking a couple breaths, she lifted her eyes to meet his, mouth just agape. He really was all she could ever need. This moment wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t ideal, but it was just right for what she needed to say. “I’ve always loved you, Kakashi.”

“Y/N-”

“Listen, I know it’s not exactly an appropriate time to be confessing my love to you and all, but I couldn’t risk another day going by without telling you.”

“I love you, too.”

And silence. 

There wasn’t anything else to say. The love was mutual, it had been all this time. They just took their time getting around to admitting it, to just hear those words leave the other’s lips for the first time. There were no butterflies in her stomach nor did her heart race in her chest at his confession. 

She could only feel comfort in the umbrella they’d created for themselves, the outside world lost to the both of them. 

In a flash, she lurched forward to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face deep into his neck. “Don’t die ever again, Hatake, or I’ll kick your ass,” she laughed, the sound of her laugh reaching his ear. He held her to his chest and sighed. 

“No promises.”

Despite what happened that day, he felt comfortable. For the first time, in a very long time, he felt relief wash over him. Everything was going to be okay.

“Kakashi!”

Requests Are Open!

[mypoisonedvine]

Satisfied | Andy Barber x reader (chapter 4)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3)

series summary: you’re the only lawyer in Boston who can get under Andy Barber’s skin, but you didn’t realise that he was trying to get under your clothes.  as is the nature of law, it’s only a matter of time before the truth is discovered.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angst, implied smut, non-linear storytelling

a/n: I wrote this series originally with my friend joyce, and after she deactivated some of the chapters were lost.  this series is long-since completed, but I’m reposting now so people can still read!

You hated being back at your temporary ‘home’. The small apartment your company had rented was… suboptimal at best. It was a cramped little place that reminded you of your dorm at college. Only it had one difference: you were alone. But it was a place for you to reflect. And that was enough.

After the nightmare of a deposition, you had a lot of work to complete. Not only that, you had another two cases that you had to work on. Usually you would have been done and there would have not been so much stress involved but life happened. 

Maybe if you were not so preoccupied by thoughts of Andy you would have been on top of your workload. But Andy posed more than one issue. He was on your mind a lot. He lived in your brain the way he did back in college. He was buried into your brain. And as much as you dedicated your existence to the law, he had more of you than any other person ever did. And that was why you had spent the last three days ignoring him. 

Your entire existence burned to speak to him but you held out. You stayed strong and buried yourself in work. Your table was cluttered with pens and numerous reports and documents in a way that reminded you of being a student again. Andy always made fun of how messy you were when you studied. In every other aspect of your life you were so organized and neat yet the second you had any paper near you, it looked like a tip. 

The little memory brought a smile to your face. It was dangerous to reminisce in the better days but you did miss him. Many a flurry of different failed relationships helped you realize that it was because you still loved Andy Barber. And your need to make him hate you stemmed from your inability to let him feel indifference towards you.

Ever since you returned to Boston, you spent more time than you were willing to admit dwelling over the past. How different would your life have been if you had gotten valedictorian? Would you have been happy?

You’re startled out of your thoughts when the buzzer rings and when you went to check the camera, Andy was at the front with his hands in his pockets. “Andy?” 

“Let me in. You can’t keep avoiding me.” his voice is slightly distorted by the buzzer. Something, however, compelled you to let him in; you pressed the button and watched it flash green. It took a minute or so before Andy was at your door.

“Andy,” you breathed, “what are you doing here?” When you saw him, you realized that it was both a good and bad idea to have avoided him for a few days. You missed him. Just a little more than you wished to admit. But you needed to be away from him.

“Making up for lost time,” he replied before crashing his lips down on yours. It was practically a scene out of a stupid rom-com but it didn’t matter at that moment. He chased you the way you wished he had before. At least a part of you wished for that to happen.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you sighed as you tore away from Andy’s touch the way you’d drop hot coals.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, “you said that back in college--”

“And look where that got us,” you interrupted. The last thing you wanted was for that conversation to come up once again. It hurt too much to think about, let alone to talk about.

“No, we’re not doing this. Can you just let me in?” you had always been unable to resist him when he pleaded with his eyes; you let him enter and he made himself comfortable.

“It’s not as nice a place as yours,” you felt a little uncomfortable having him examine the bits of your life you tried to hide. “The firm I work for rented it for me.” You wished that the place was just a little cleaner before Andy came over unexpectedly. It was by no means a mess but it was nowhere close to the standard you were accustomed to. Or the one that he knew you had.

“Can you stop worrying about how you come across or how you’re perceived by people for just a second?” Andy raised his voice. You did not expect the outburst. Nothing gave you any indication for it.

“Did you forget that you came here, Andy?” he had a way of winding you up and you had never been above it. Your voice was blatantly irritated but Andy paid no mind to your frustrations.

“I...I just wanted to talk,” he sighed, calming down almost instantly. That made you understand that he really did come over for a conversation. It was never your strong suit but you needed something from him.

“About what, Andy?” your voice weak. “Us? There is no ‘us.’”

“About the case,” he looked at you pointedly avoiding the loaded statement you had just made. But you know that it hurt him. It was evident in his eyes. Even when he tried to hide the pain from you, it was impossible. You knew him too well.

“So what was all of that about making up for lost time, Andy?” you were on the verge of screaming not knowing how else to react.

“I-I came over about the case,” he licked his lips as he watched you, “but then I saw you. I saw your fucking face and I--”

“Andy…” you sighed, “we can’t keep doing this.”

“No, you don’t want to keep doing this,” he corrected, “but we still have a case to deal with.”

“We don’t have a case to deal with. I feel as if you have forgotten that we are representing opposing parties, Mr. Barber.”

“Trust me. I haven’t,” he deadpanned, “but seeing as your dearest client is shelling out a lot of money for this to be sorted, I thought that it would be helpful if we helped each other out.”

You raised an eyebrow out of interest, ashamedly intrigued. “And how would we ‘help each other out’?”

“Get your client to accept a plea deal. Considering how much money you’re being paid, he definitely has the means to fight it. But he doesn’t have the brains to. The evidence against him is mounting.” You hated Andy’s judgement. He always disagreed with your path, insisting that becoming a DA was the only moral way to practice law.

“Is that your professional opinion, Mr. Barber?” you cocked your head, “is this direct from your boss or is it stemming from your moral high-ground?”

“Consider it a favour from a friend. Or is it that you want that extra money so you continue to represent an arsonist?” Andy’s tone is biting, his disapproval of your career evident.

“Will you stop saying that?  I’m doing it for free!” you blurted out.

Silence elapsed over the two of you. Andy looked at you with an admiration you had not seen in a long time. It was almost unsettling how warm it made you feel. “Why?” His voice was so soft that you almost missed it.

“Just because I didn’t become a DA doesn’t mean that I don’t give a shit, Andy,” you were unsure of why you so desperately craved his approval. Or why you needed him to know that you were not just another money-hungry, morally bankrupt attorney. “But that’s what you thought, wasn’t it? That I only care about money?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he breathed out but the guilt was evident. It was written all across his face. The cruealen eyes you looked into many times were laced with genuine sadness. He was wrong. “I’m sorry.  Your client… he’s not paying, but the firm is still paying you, right?”

“No…” you let out a visible breath, “I have two other cases up here and so my company rented this place out and I am taking this one pro bono. If anything, I’m losing money by taking this on.”

“I’m sorry I judged you,” Andy pulled you into a hug you did not resist. He mumbled ‘baby’ into your hair at the end but you managed to catch it. It was soft but it was there. And it made your heart skip just a little. It had been so long since he had called you that.

You missed having his arms around you. It reminded you of safety and cramming for an exam. Land law was never your specialty but Andy got you through it.

Being pressed against his chest made you realize that he hadn’t changed his cologne. It was the same one you got him on your one-year anniversary. How you did not realize sooner was beyond you but there is something touching about it.

“You still wear it,” you’re surprised that you said it aloud. Andy looks at you in confusion. “The cologne I got you.”

He doesn’t look you in the eye but nods. “Yeah… it sorta became part of my everyday life. It reminds me of you.”

You nodded slowly and looked away, glancing out the window.  The tone of the room shifted in exactly the wrong direction.

“Listen, I know we were sort of awful for each other,” Andy chuckled dryly, “I know we still are awful to each other.  But it’s always been you.  It’s always been us.  And I don’t see why we can’t give it another—”

“I got an offer...  I’m gonna be a partner,” you blurted out, cutting him off before he could say anything else that would make leaving harder.

“Oh my god!” he replied excitedly, after a pause to process your interruption.  “Baby, that’s… that’s great.”  You knew that he was worried, he had every right to be.  All of the offers you once got had caused the same doubts.

“It’s in California.”

His face dropped and he swallowed nothing.  The silence was heavy, and cold.  Or maybe that was just the Boston air.  It had always felt like this… dark and damp and carried on a wind that made you shiver to your bone each time it blew.  It was exactly this feeling that should have made you long for sunny California, with its orange trees and beaches and manifest-destiny attitude.  It didn’t, but it should have.

It reminded you of college. Of talking to Andy about vacancies available across the country. You had always liked the idea of moving for money but he didn’t. And that was how he stayed in Boston after you graduated whilst you sold your soul to a corporation. 

He stood up and walked to the other side of the room, looking out the window.  He ran his hands through his hair in that way he did when he was anxious.  “You didn’t say you could be a partner,” he recalled.  “You said you were going to be a partner.”

“Yep,” you agreed.

“So, you’ve already accepted it?  That’s it?”

“I feel like I have to.  I mean, you would never ask me to stay, would you?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Because you respect me too much?  Or because you know I’d never choose you over my career?”

“Both,” he said, anger tinting his voice.  “I would never want you to resent me.  If you gave it up for me, you’d resent me.  But just know…”

“What?”

“Just know I would’ve given up valedictorian for you,” he said it with such earnestness you did not know what to say or do. It was a declaration; one that you were not able to refute or confirm. Because you did not know. 

“Are you fucking serious?” you were not sure how to feel; anger and doubt swelled in the pit of your stomach. He could have said that all those years ago. Tears pricked your eyes as you tried to keep your composure.

“Yes.”

“You think I still care about that?”

“It doesn’t matter if you care now.  You cared then.  And I would’ve given it up, to save us,” Andy raised his voice. 

“But you didn’t, Andy!  You fucking didn’t!” tears fell freely down your face as you realized that his words and his actions would forever contradict the other.

“Because I thought you’d never be with a guy who would do something like that!  Do you realize that?  You hated me because I got it when I didn’t want it, but I wanted to impress you!  I wanted to deserve you!”

You were petrified, practically glued to the couch in fear and confusion and devastation.  It was almost impossible for you to fathom Andy’s thoughts about you. Maybe he was right. Maybe you would not have wanted him if he gave it up. Because if he did, you would not have earnt it. 

“Everything I did then, I was just trying to be the guy you wanted.  I became everything you feared you would become if you had a relationship in law school.  I completely lost sight of my studies, I would’ve flunked out, I was so obsessed with you-- thank God you were such a know-it-all or I surely wouldn’t have studied again after I met you.”

“Andy, this isn’t true.  You were always a great lawyer.  You always wanted it,” you tried to reason with him. He was a good lawyer. 

“I’m only as much a lawyer as you made me.  Everything I did was about building what I thought you wanted, so I could get you…” he paused with a slow breath, “and I’d throw it all away, to make you stay.”

“You won’t leave Boston...” it came to you slowly. You almost wished that it would not be the case. You wanted him. Maybe a little more than you wanted him back in college. It may have been the time and the distance that made you crave his heart.

“I won’t leave Boston,” he confirmed. “It’s the one thing that reminds me of who I was before you.  Who I’m trying to be.”

“And you got an offer,” you realized suddenly.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Are you seriously suggesting you’d give it up for me?” you were petrified by the concept. You would have never let him do it, anyway. He had worked too hard and for too long for you to be the reason he gave it all up. 

“If you gave up your partnership in Cali, wouldn’t it be fair for me to give up on being Suffolk County DA?”

“Oh shit, Andy, no, that wouldn’t be fair.  You need to take it,” you begged him.

“I knew you would say that.  You’ve barely changed at all.”

You stood up and approached him, placing a hand on his cheek.  “Give me a year,” you pleaded.  “Maybe that’s what we need.  A year apart to remember who we’re supposed to be.  Maybe I’ll love California and partnership and we’ll be able to say ‘hey, we’ll always have O’Leary’s’.”

He smiled a little, in a sad way. You hadn’t quite convinced him yet. He was unsure if you were really going to come back; he had trusted you with a lot before and each time he did, you broke it. Maybe giving you a year was too much of a risk for his sanity.

“Or maybe…” you breathed, half pleading, “maybe I can come back and you’ll be here.  And we can try to get along better than we used to.”

“I won’t wait forever,” he nodded slowly, “but I can do a year.”

“Okay,” you smiled, reaching for his hand and weaving your fingers into his.  He squeezed your hand but looked away.  “Andy…”

He turned to you and you wondered if you looked like you were about to cry, because you certainly felt like you were.  The situation was overwhelming, yes, but Andy, in himself, was the most overwhelming thing in your life. He consumed the only available parts of your existence. Everything you had not lost to the law belonged to him. 

Maybe in another universe you got to keep him. That you got married and had little Barber children. But right then, none of that mattered. You just needed him to know the truth. Three tiny words on the tip of your tongue to let him know the one thing that had stayed buried in your heart for a decade.

“Don’t say anything,” he requested weakly.  “Don’t say something that’s going to make this any harder.”

“But what if it’s the truth?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he denied.

“Look at me,” you demanded, running your hand over his face, stepping closer and pressing your body against his.  You looked into his eyes and looked for hate, wishing that he still hated you at all.  “I love you.”

“Please don’t say that.” Andy’s voice was strained. You saw the internal battle he was having and it pained you. You knew that he wanted to say it. He loved telling you that when you were young. He’d remind you of his love so much you had it ingrained in your mind.

“But what if I never get another chance to say it?” a small broken sob escaped the confines of your lips. Every fibre of your being wanted to repeat those sacred three words just once more to ensure that he heard you. That he really heard you. You needed him to understand the weight behind your words. 

You had never meant them more than you had in that moment. You loved him. It was a confession you had not been able to deal with for years. You loved Andy Barber. And you had done so since the first time he said it to you in your dorm.

“You will,” he nodded, voice full of conviction, and soft eyes. “Come back in a year.”

“And when I do?” your voice was weak. Scared. It was unlike you. You had always gone after what you wanted but this time you had no choice. You had to wait a year. 365 days. 

“We’ll have this conversation again.  And it won’t be like last time.  It won’t be like this time.  It’ll be the truth.” Andy grabbed your trembling hands and kissed them. 

“Before I go,” you whimpered, feeling a tear start to fall, “lie to me just one last time.”

That was how you ended up in his bed again, his lips all over you, whispering everything you wanted to believe could be true.  I love you.  We’re gonna make it.  This isn’t goodbye.  He kissed you like it was the end of something.  He fucked you like it was just the beginning.

---

Another day, another argument.  As he paced around the dorm, you were trying to remember a time when this wasn’t just a part of the cycle.  There was no way it had always been like this, right?  If it had, you wouldn’t have made it this long… just a few months and you were already at the end of your rope.

“I can’t keep diminishing myself because you’re afraid of being overshadowed,” he shook his head.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you scowled.

“You’re afraid you won’t be valedictorian,” Andy was tense and he stood away from you, “you’re afraid that it will be me that takes it.” 

“Yeah!  Of course I am!  Because it’s what I’ve been working towards basically my whole life and now you’re trying to take it from me when you don’t even care about it!” 

“Of course I care about it!” Andy ran his hand through his hair in frustration. The argument was going around in circles. It always did and you always ended up in the same place. 

“Not half as much as I do.” Tears welled in your eyes. It was your dream. Your goal. And it was right in your sight. You were at the finish line and all you had to do was cross it.

“I don’t know why you’re so insecure, honestly.  You are so… threatened, by everything, by everybody.  Nobody’s nearly as good as you.  You run circles around all of us.  And you still can’t let go and let your accomplishments speak for themselves.  You’re at Harvard!  You’re already with the best!”

“Best isn’t good enough.  I need to be the best of the best.”

He sighed and leaned back against the wall.  “You are never going to be satisfied.  I can’t satisfy you, and you can’t satisfy yourself.”

“What do you mean you can’t satisfy me?”

“You’re going to dump me if you get valedictorian.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I’m giving up on us, if I get it.”

You looked away.  After everything you still didn’t want him to see you cry.  “Think you can do better than a salutatorian?”

He laughed a little; a sad, broken noise.  “Yeah, something like that.”

He started to walk away and you were going to let him.  Some weaker part of you took over for a moment though, and grabbed his sleeve.  “Don’t go,” you requested.  He seemed like he was considering it.  “We can still be together, if I get it.”

He shook his head and looked at you with watery eyes.  “You’re impossible.”

“Please, Andy,” you have never pleaded for anything, let alone anyone, but Andy made you want to fight. Whether it was for him or for valedictorian, you were not sure. But it wasn’t enough for him. You needed to actually give something up; before he made that decision for you.

And, so, you watched him leave.  One footstep after the other taking a piece of your heart the further he gets. It crushed you.  Since you had lost Andy, you had to get valedictorian.  There was no fathomable way you were going to be able to deal with the loss of both. “I love you,” you whispered to his fleeting back.

And then it became your turn to grieve.  The loss of Andy took a bigger toll on you than you were even able to imagine.  That was in spite of the fact that you had spent less time with him over the past few months as he was working a lot more than usual. 

You knew that he was saving up for a big purchase.  He always did a lot more overtime when he was doing that.  Only you had no idea what it would be.  All you knew is that it would be a surprise, or so he told you.

next chapter: finale

[anyoneseenadam]

Home: chapter one

azriel x reader (acotar) 

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn��t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast. 

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 2.8k 

a/n: this is the first proper fic I have written in so so so long and i’m legit nervous to post it so pls be nice, plus feedback is always appreciated. there are more parts to come, I’m not sure how many yet but i’m going to try post regularly! message me if you wanna be tagged and i’m gonna try figure out how to make a masterlist :) 

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The view from your window was beautiful yet haunting. Your eyes roamed over countless wildflowers, yet your stare would linger on a poppy or a Red Admiral butterfly and you were back there. You were tied down and crying, body and brain equally numb until another searing lash stripped your back of flesh, white-hot pain rushing through your body and forcing an involuntary cry to tear from your lips.

You quickly stood, wiping your hands down your skirt in an attempt to quell the memories surfacing, the ones you had desperately tried to supress since you had fallen. You quickly moved, all but running to the bathroom, needing to do something, anything, so long as it got you out of your head. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, looking exactly as you felt. The dark circles under your eyes from nights spent with hot tears flowing freely down your cheeks and into your hair and ears made you look ghostly, paired with the dull tone your skin had taken on, losing its natural glow. You looked as empty as you felt, a shell of the person you once were.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you quickly moved away, instead walking to the kitchen, the nausea from not eating overcoming you, yet the thought of eating just made you more nauseous. You found an apple at the bottom of a practically empty fridge and cleaned it softly, then used a blade to cut it into four, forcing it down, repeating the benefits it gave your body as you went, the basic information you had learned in your high school biology class, using the information to push through the sick feeling residing in your stomach, and instead focusing on the energy you desperately needed.

Your gaze drifted to the ajar door that led to your expansive garden, the cottage you lived in itself was small, but your garden was your pride and joy, your power sifting through all the plants in it, bringing them to life in ways of indescribable beauty, nearby animals coming to exist in harmony, safe under the care of their protector. But recently the usual vibrancy of the garden was dimming, the grass turning yellow and the plants wilting. There were no deer napping under bushes and barely any birds taking full advantage of the seed you laid out for them. You pushed past the door and into the garden, the plants brightening as you trailed your hands over their leaves. You found your favourite spot to sit in and dragged your fingers through the grass, smiling despite yourself as it visibly perked up, turning greener instantly. Your gaze trailed to a ruby throated hummingbird that had landed on the special feeder you left out for them, your breath hitching at the red colour, mind instantly returning to the dark, unable to tear your eyes away from the innocent bird.

The first thing you remember seeing was red, red water flowing like blood, red rocks beneath your bent knees, and your skin tinted red from dried blood seeping out of the wounds the chains around your wrists had inflicted on you. You sought to remember where you were, your mind drifting back to how you clung to Annabeth, your stomach aching from what must have been a broken rib, even as she was roughly pulled backwards, even as Percy desperately grabbed her, falling over the edge too, not quite reaching Nico’s shaking hand as he desperately tried to save you. You remembered been torn from their grip during the fall, a Fury hoping for a demi-god it could pick apart, you remember Annabeth screaming they would save you. But you don’t remember landing here, and you don’t remember the chains being attached to your wrists and ankles, or your shirt being removed, a choice you decided couldn’t mean anything good. However, you knew you would never forget the dark chuckle you heard behind you. Or the colour red.  

--

Azriel didn’t know where he was. He knew he wasn’t in his world at least, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He was simply tired after a long mission far away from Velaris and his family and had tried to travel through the shadows to his home. Yet here he was, farther away from home than he had ever been and absolutely exhausted. He stepped out of his shadows and had to blink as the tallest buildings he had ever seen came into view. He absentmindedly took a step forward, then another until he was roughly shoved into, a man with a thick accent he couldn’t place swearing at him. His head whipping around as he got his bearings and moved to follow the direction more people than he could believe were walking until the crowd thinned out.

With less people present he slowed his pace, hands drifting to his pockets when civilians stared, old insecurities that never really left him rising to the surface, and instead took the time to admire the strange world he was in. the fashion in this new world was vastly different to his own, groups of girls congregating in tiny shorts and tight tops, next to groups in which there were girls in all black and boys in skirts. There were men and women dressed sharply talking quickly to no-one in particular, with hands pressed to their ears, there were people in rags begging for money and there were people dressed in ways he couldn’t even fathom to understand. By the time he reached the end of the street he was sure he had seen everything, and walked onto a more recognisable street, one with smaller buildings, unlike the magnificent glass structures, made from stone and wood and with friendlier faces behind stalls filled with food he recognized along with food he had never seen before.

He made his way through the market, losing track of time, the initial anxiety he felt seeping away, if he got here, he could easily return home, right? Instead, he chose to focus on the culture of this new world, determined to tell his family of the wonder he had uncovered, faintly hearing different languages from people’s conversation, and music coming from the open window of what he presumed was a coffee shop. He distantly wondered if they could see his wings, as no-one eyes lingered the way he had grown used to, in fact it seemed they couldn’t look at them, he presumed humans in this world simply had a natural glamour preventing them from seeing fae, that being said however, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot another fae.

Eventually he reached the end of the street and decided he should return home now in order to stop his family from worrying, searching for a shadowed alley so as to not draw to much unwanted attention to himself. He walked to an alley that he decided would do the trick, excited to share this adventure with his family, but stopped short when he came face to face with a girl in a short skirt with incredibly pale skin and fire-like hair leaning over a passed-out man, sucking blood from his neck. She looked up when he approached and he saw that her hair was not just fire-like but literally fire, and her eyes were glowing red, and angry. More alike her then came out of the shadows, he quickly counted six, sighing as he pulled Truth-teller out of its sheath.

Shit. I am not in the mood for this.

--

You strolled through your favourite farmers market in NYC, the colours that filled the stalls always bringing some cheer back into your life, along with the thought of home-made meals and your practically overflowing basket, filled with fruit, vegetables, bread, and other necessities, but not meat, not since the animals started speaking to you when you first arrived at camp, and nothing red, you still couldn’t face that.  

You made a quick stop at your favourite coffee place, opting to get your drink to go, only making polite conversation when you had to, and smiling through any other interaction. You were soon ready to leave, basket and dusty blue corduroy jacket slung over one arm, cup in that hand and your phone that the Hephaestus cabin had adapted in the other, when you heard pained grunts and the cackle of a monster you wished you could just forget already from a nearby alley.

You gave a pained sigh, looking longingly at your coffee before chugging it and throwing the cup in a nearby bin, making your way over to the alley. When you got there, you saw an unnaturally dark alley filled with a gaggle of Empousa surrounding a tall, winged man who was fighting incredibly well but clearly hadn’t gotten the celestial bronze memo, as his blade was defective.

“Long time no see ladies” you said, smirking at the growls that tore from the back of their throats as they tore around to stare at you, recognition in their horrifyingly red eyes. “What no hugs, no happy reunions?”

“You.” The middle one snarled, lunging forward, only to be cut down by the thick, green vine you had grown, intertwined with strands of celestial bronze you kept wrapped around your wrists disguised as thin, looping bracelets, and exploding into dust which you nonchalantly wiped from your shoulder.

“Whose next,” you laughed as three of them leaped at you, two staying behind and keeping the winged man, who had taken to staring at you with an unreadable expression, occupied. You destroyed them quickly enough to see the man falter as one of the Empousa force their talon like nails into his side, twisting it and pulling it out. You rolled your eyes, moving to pick up his slack, wrapping the vine around its neck and pulling until it exploded into the fine dust. The man was on the floor now, clutching his side, as you stalked forward to the final monster.

“You know I really just wanted a chill day,” you complained,

“I remember you,” it hissed, smiling at you with razor sharp teeth.

You fought a shudder and forced the memories down, “I’m glad I made an impression.”

“They want you back you know, we never got to finish playing.”

You snarled and went to move, but it was too fast, and you realised your mistake in waiting too long as it released a piercing cry that must have notified monsters from miles away, “shit,” you muttered under your breath, killing it quickly and moving to the winged man’s side.

“Hey, any chance those wings are good at flying,” you asked, “cause we’re about to be swarmed and I really just wanna get home.” You put his arm over your shoulders and dragged him up, grunting under his weight.

“I-it, poison.” Was all he said, fully leaning on you.

“Shit, okay um,” you racked your brain for an idea, furrowing your brows when you saw monsters start coming around the corner, eyeing you like their favourite toy. The man looked up from beneath his thick, dark hair before cursing and tightening his grip on your shoulder.

“Just hold on,” he said,

“What? Wait no!” you shouted, clinging to his arm as suddenly you were engulfed in darkness, only to suddenly be blinded by bright, hot light, forcing your eyes closed.

When you opened them again, you were on a sandy beach facing an impossibly blue ocean. Your mouth fell open and you turned to ask the man some questions, (or yell at him you were yet to decide) just in time to watch him collapse, falling onto the sand with a soft thud, red blood steadily flowing out of his side, the blood draining from your face at the sight.

Shit.

--

You stared down at the man in disbelief for at least two minutes. He can shadow-travel. Is he a son of Hades? Gods know I don’t need another step sibling. Also, where the fuck am I? Why a beach? Is it LA? I might marry him if it’s LA. A million thoughts raced through your head as you stared at him, guessing that the unnatural darkness you saw before must have come from the shadows you could now see were surrounding him, protecting him from the light and, when you moved closer, you. From what you could see, he was handsome, if not slightly dead looking, thick, dark hair and a lean, muscular build. Wait dead looking? You cursed jumping into action, checking his pulse, relieved when you found it, before moving to his side using the knife you kept tucked into your boot to hack through the leathers he was wearing in order to reveal the gash.

It wasn’t wide but seemed deep as it was gushing dark red blood, you blanched and screwed your eyes shut at the sight, fighting the memories of your own dark red blood. You opened your eyes purposefully not looking at the cut as you used his torn leathers to put pressure on the cut and start dragging him up the beach to an area you could grow the thin vines you would need as makeshift stitches.

--

Azriel woke to an extreme discomfort in his side, in a place he didn’t recognise. He pushed up into a sitting position, wincing at the reminder of his wound, and looked around, finding himself shirtless, surrounded by trees on a sandy floor. A girl was sitting cross-legged, staring- no- glaring at him and he felt himself return a confused expression, vaguely remembering her as the girl that had killed the monsters that he could have sworn were completely invulnerable.  

“What are you?” She asked suddenly, her bluntness taking him by surprise, but before he could answer she continued, “I mean I’m presuming you’re some sort of child of Hades, given you shadow travelled, but I don’t understand what else, cause you’re defo not part human?”

“Hades?” he asked, frowning at the words he didn’t understand.

“Yeah?” she asked slowly, raising her eyebrows at him as if it was something obvious.

He scoffed, “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Oh, is that so? No thank you or anything? I mean it’s not like I saved your life and I mean least of all I would expect an apology.” She was rambling as she stared at him in disbelief.

“An apology?”

“Yeah, for getting me stuck here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Fuck if I know,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, “I thought you know, I’ve done enough, I’ll let him find a cure for that poison on his own, I just wanna go home, so I decided lets get my bearings. I’ll find a high place and work out where I am, only to climb to the top of a fucking mountain and realise you got us stuck on a fucking Island!”

He slowly stood, bracing himself on a tree, as she remained sat, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. He shook his head, not needing to babysit this girl, and instead shot up from the ground, flying above the island to see she was in fact correct, there didn’t seem to be land for miles.

Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain went up his right side and he lost control of his balance for a second, all but plummeting to the ground.

“Yeah you shockingly haven’t healed completely yet,” the girl said moving to his side and pushing away his maimed hands from his wound, barely even glancing at the scars, “I have some ideas as to what will cure the poison, but if you want to fly away and leave me to die here, be my guest,” every word was dripping with sarcasm and he fought back a growl at her as she inspected his wound, were he saw he had torn the peculiar, green stitches.

He watched her carefully, not fully trusting her, as she inspected his stitches, furrowing his eyebrows when she significantly paled at the sight of his blood. “What scared of a little blood,” he instantly regretted the biting words when she snarled at him and put more pressure on the wound than was necessary, feeling slightly guilty given she had saved his life, but her attitude was infuriating, and he just wanted a hot bath and food.  

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to stitch you back up, and then we’re gonna find a lake or some source of fresh water, you’re going to heal extremely quickly so you can take us back home and you’re not going to give me anymore shit? Kapeesh?” The stare she gave him could’ve rivalled his own in terms of intimidation, but instead of challenging her he just nodded, setting his jaw.

“Good. Now, nice to meet you, I’m (y/n),” she said reaching out a hand,

“Azriel.” Was all he said, meeting her small, soft hands in his rough, scarred ones, the difference in texture astounding him, still not entirely used to touch, and ignored the tightness in his chest when she offered him a cocky smirk.

[passivenovember]

And Everyday was Overcast.

Part One : Hammers and Nails

Billy needed someplace to go when the grave was desecrated.

When his eyes unglued themselves, peeling off eyelashes in their wake, when the earth was overturned, torn and left hanging like shreds of old fabric; Steve had been there. By some miracle he had been consumed like he always was, sat thinking by a plot that had grown yellow flowers to blanket Billy in his eternal sleep. And maybe it was those small visits sheltered between morning runs and eight hour shifts stocking the horror section that Billy had come back.

From the grave. From the brink.

The Earth started vibrating, spidery cracks turning volatile, and Steve was met with ocean blue. Red rimmed eyes locked on his face, hands reaching and gripping. Nails digging in as Steve wrapped Billy's grime covered shoulders in his own jacket. Rubbed the chilled skin of his arms, looked in his eyes, and took him home.

Someplace Billy could wash the day from his skin.

--

The blonde haired boy who had turned from human to creature and back again deserved something more than what he was left with. He deserved warm meals, and sunshine on his skin, and soft bed sheets that opened like a celestial sky when Billy felt like shelving the enormity of what he had discovered. What waited after death.

Steve wanted that for him.

Not happiness, not closure, exactly, but something close to it.

At the root of it all, Steve knew Billy should feel safe. Welcome and warm and comfortable, in the house that Steve’s father had built for his mother all those years ago when she was plump and round with child. Steve felt like his father that day as he carried the last box over the threshold and took in the rigid, tense line of Billy’s shoulders.

He let the moment rest. Let it breathe, as his father always instructed. “Do you think you could feel safe here, Billy?”

The air sat heavy. Cold and wet and warm, somehow, like the morning after a night of heavy rain. Billy sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted slowly, face reverent, as if standing barefoot in a cathedral among gods and heroes. Met with divinity.

Instead he got Steve.

Just Steve, trying not to stare at the lone curl hanging over Billy’s forehead when he offered a tight, controlled smile. “It’s fine.” Billy said, only.

Steve tore his eyes away. Focused on the second story banister to stop his gut from falling through the floor. ”Fine? As in, I would rather eat my own toenails than live here, fine or, like. It's okay, I don't mind it here, I might even like it someday, fine?"

Billy adjusted the strap across his shoulders. “It’s just what I expected it would be.”

Steve shook his head. “What’s that mean?”

"Relax, Harrington, it's." Billy turned again, eyebrows scrunched together. “Its. Pastel. And huge. Obscenely decorated—“

”My mom had it professionally done before they—“

”It was built for a happy family with lots of kids. Lots of love, but now it's. It feels. Lost.”

Billy had started saying things like that.

Heavy, saturated, impossible things that left Steve scrambling. Wishing for the intelligence to absorb the meaning rather than question it. Steve rested the box at the foot of the stairs and offered a smile to the second story. Runoff for the pools of blue that looked on.

"That's a lot of adjectives. I can get you a hotel, maybe. Or an apartment. I could cosign, I know they gave you a pretty penny and you could probably afford your own, but. I could. I would." Steve said harshly. "For you. I would."

"It's fine here. It's okay."

Steve felt like a science experiment. Egg boy with three heads and ten legs or something. Suckers on the tips of his thumbs, the way Billy studied him. Steve counted the freckles on Billy's nose--one, two, three, four--trying to stay afloat.

--

Dinner was made every night though Steve never saw it happen.

The cookbooks sat alphabetized over his mother's antique bar cart on that little periwinkle blue shelf. He'd come home, every night, at six on the dot, to a set table. The mixing bowls were always clean and put away, counters wiped and ingredients stored neatly on the shelves his pantry, but the wooden spoons spelled it out for Steve, still shifting from dark to light as they lay drying on the dish rack.

"You don't have to make dinner, you know." Steve took another bite of Salisbury steak, furious that it tasted so good. Like love soaking into his skin.

Billy shook his head. "I want to."

"I know, I'm saying it's okay if you decide not to, one day. Like if you get caught up reading. Or if you can get Max to drive you to the history museum, or if you--"

"It's the least I can do."

Steve hated that. He let his fork clatter to the table. "I'm not expecting repayment for this."

"I'm not a freeloader."

"And I'm not an asshole." Steve deadpanned, lifting a finger that sewed Billy's smug lips together. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were thinking, with that clever glint in your stupid blue eyes."

Billy cracked his knuckles, clearly fighting a smile. "Never thought you noticed the color of my eyes, Harrington."

"Yeah, sure." Steve stood, gathering the plates and forks and knives from the table, his own eyes counting primary threads. "Can see those things from space, Jesus." He finally looked up, at Billy's curiously pink face.

Pink lips, cheeks, nose.

Steve gripped ceramic. Swallowed against a swell of guilt. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. I like having you here. I want you here."

Billy gave a simple, controlled nod.

Steve got used to it.

--

The shack wasn't built until the doctor told Billy that he'd probably wouldn't remember all of what happened. The big things would stick out, neon greens and blues against the forest head, but Billy shouldn't be too hard on himself if the important things got thrown away.

And some of those jagged little pieces were there. The bad things. Anger and hatred, both for self and world, left hanging on the cliff of who he was now. Everything that had formed Billy Hargrove--the person he was, the person Steve had pretended not to notice--were packed away. Soft, silky emotion covering knives left dull and rusted in their drawer.

Billy remembered like flashes of lightening across the summer sky--sudden and then gone. Here and away. He remembered Hawkins high and Max who'd grown six inches in three years. Dustin who had been wearing that stupid shirt when the mall burned down.

And Steve.

Always Steve, sat next to him. A foot away at first and then holding his hand, later, when Owens said Billy should be kind to himself. Gentle.

He wasn't.

And he didn't come out of his room for three days after that, after the wall was placed in front of him. The crack under Billy's door always keeping Steve at bay. Trapped behind the starting line. He paced around on the carpet, lifting his fist and letting it fall again, never breaking up the silence.

Billy was crying.

Billy never cried, anymore, but he cried that night and Steve felt helpless. Pathetic and stupid and useless, locking himself in his father's study and trying to formulate a plan, just like Owens had told him to when the sun fell on a world without Billy Hargrove and then suddenly rose again, set anew.

Set crooked when Billy stormed from the hospital room, slamming doors that echoed like rolls of thunder in his wake.

Figure out a way to help him.

Sterile, eerie white walls stared back at him as Steve shrugged his shoulders on the third day, aluminum hospital chair groaning beneath his weight.

I'm not sure how to do that.

You don't have to do anything. Owens said. Just help him get the emotion out. Let him write, draw, sing, dance, whatever he needs to assist in telling us his story.

--

Potato casserole and red wine bore witness to Steve's leap of faith. Billy turned away from the novel he had tucked under his arm when Steve got home from work that day, eyes curious. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"I'm not sure what you--"

"You've been giving me the side eye since you got home." Billy turned the page in his book, still managing to read both it and the room as he urged, "Tell me what's wrong."

And nothing was wrong, and.

Everything was wrong. Steve leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Do you want to come with me to the art store tomorrow?"

Billy frowned. "I don't need anything from the art store."

"It's not always about what you need," Steve reasoned, patting his mouth with a napkin. "We could get stuff you want. That's all, just pretty things. Nice things. It could be a treat."

"Paper and scissors are considered a treat?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. "I do love touching shit, it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Steve scrubbed at his mouth, swallowing down against a big, fat, crooked smile dripping with affection. "C'mon, it'll be fun. We can get whatever you want; clay, oil pastels, acrylics--"

"I wanted to check out the library tomorrow."

"You go everyday, blue, you're a regular bookworm."

"So?" Billy demanded, taking another bite of casserole. "I like to read. Just 'cause you can't doesn't mean the rest of us have to hold back." He grinned, low and slow. "Don't let your jealousy turn you into a tyrannical landlord, pretty boy."

"God, you're the absolute worst."

Billy turned back to his novel. "The art store will just inspire me to paint nudies."

"So paint them." Steve challenged.

Bait. Hook and line.

"You gonna pose for me if I let you buy out the joint?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe once, if you look at the easels while we're there."

"No shit?" Billy leaned forward, biceps flexing in his cutoff as he stuck a polaroid of a smiling blonde woman between the pages of his novel. "The fuck is this about, Harrington?"

"I'm worried."

"That you'll take me to a crafts store and I'll put you out of house and home? Reasonable concern, I guess."

"About the diagnosis, dipshit. About you." Steve gulped down the rest of his wine. Made sure every last drop had seasoned his words before any were said aloud, where they might do damage. He let the glass rest on the table between his fingertips, stem rolling from pad to pad. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You haven't been the same since--"

"I got hijacked by a space demon or crawled out of my own grave?" Billy shrugged, picking at something in his teeth. "Be more specific."

Steve fiddled with the handle of his fork. Hand picked his words. Refined the meaning. "Yes, and. Both."

Billy didn't say anything for a while and the room finally settled. Falling fast asleep, thick with inertia and silence until the book was opened once more and Steve went back to digging through his casserole, picking at the spring onions.

Letting the moment breathe.

Until, finally. "I feel like I could crawl out of my own skin."

Steve tripped over himself to get those blue eyes on him once more. "That's understandable--"

"I feel fucking useless." Billy snapped, voice cracking in two, and. Suddenly Steve couldn't look at him. Couldn't bare to see his face. "I'm trying to replay what happened. Every second, I'm trying to figure out why. Why me."

Steve counted the primary threads in the table cloth. One, two, three. "You can't go on asking yourself questions like that."

"I can do what I--"

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. Any of it."

"I'm not talking about the Fourth of July, I'm talking about. Death. I'm talk about what comes before and what comes after and how they're the same." Billy turned the page in his novel furiously, eyebrows scrunched together. "I never thought they'd be the same. It's like I've started over."

Steve couldn't possibly understand, but.

He watched pools of blue scan the page. Took measured breaths, never pushing until Billy was ready to share more. Until he tossed the book on the counter and sighed, head buried in his hands. "I don't understand how I got here."

"Easy," Steve whispered. "That's easy. You were born from love--"

"My parents aren't in love anymore."

"But they were, once." Steve shook his head. "When you were made. They loved each other, and they loved you, and your life was full of love that never made sound but it was still there." Steve willed Billy to look at him. Willed the skies to turn blue again.

They didn't.

Billy sighed, low and slow. "Did love bring me here again?"

"I guess so."

"Who's love?" Billy demanded, leaning forward into the table and crushing his novel where it lay against light oak tabletops. "Who loved me enough to bring me back here? To wish for me."

And.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to say. Lines he wanted to map out, directions that lead from A to B and back again, but it didn't seem useful. Didn't rest important, as Steve took the novel from its place on the table and smoothed worn pages, tucking the polaroid in its place. "I'm sorry things feel weird for you." He said softly.

Billy grabbed the book, staring down at his casserole. "'S not so bad, I guess."

And, for Steve, that wasn't good enough.

--

Billy worked mostly in charcoal. He painted nightmares, and doorways into the past, delicate, swirling lines telling a story that made Steve's heart ache to see. To hear, with every drag of material across fruited canvas'.

Steve asked him about it, once. Over dinner, with the lights turned low. "Why do you paint such horrible things?"

And Billy had smiled. Bright and true. "How's that?"

"Y'know. Black scabs and eyeballs melting out of skulls and sliding down the ridge of people's faces, and--"

"It's what I see." Billy replied, voice soft. Measured. "It's what follows me around."

So Billy spent every hour locked in his shed, curls tucked over a growing body of work. Fingers turned rotten with charcoal soot as he made sense of what happened.

Steve liked to watch him work.

Liked to see the tension ease more and more from the strong shoulders that travelled beside him up the stairs each night. Steve felt the dig of each pencil in the crevice between his ribs when Billy finished masterpiece after masterpiece.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Along the ridges of creation, therapy lay half buried in the sand. It was state mandated, that Billy go and learn how to deal with the things charcoal couldn't straighten out for him. Like the nightmares, and the migraines that kept him from eating dinner at the table when June gave way to July.

Steve worried. Constantly, fervently, but Billy refused to go, always wiping his hands on the powder green apron Steve got for him at the art store, and insisting, "This is a form of therapy." Billy gestured around the room. To the mountains of loose sketch papers and half finished canvases that lay strewn across every surface. "This is how I cope."

And it was.

And it happened the same way every time.

Things got bad for him and Billy would disappear into his shed. Steve would come home from the office to find that his mother's prized Thomas Kincaid collection had been replaced by Billy's work. It was haunting. Sick and twisted and so, so beautiful.

He found himself standing and staring at it for hours, eyes tracing over the swirling lines of purgatory.

It made Steve feel helpless, but.

Still, Billy refused to go. Still, he buried himself in his work. Still, he painted himself into a hole.

The path toward recovery was littered with charcoal drawings until it wasn't.

Until Steve came home one afternoon to find Billy talking with a little boy who had his throat cut open.

[hauntlikeaghost0]

drowning | d.m

summary: you are draco’s lifline.

warnings: little bit angsty but in a fluffy way

a/n: wrote this on my phone so ignore weird spacing but i think i really like it?? idk hehe

༒༒༒

draco’s life was falling apart. slipping and tumbling, crashing down around him faster and faster as time went by; and there was nothing he could do but watch. watch as the rubble buried all his friendships, all his confidence and innocence, all his happiness. and all he could do was prey and beg and just hope that people will forgive him when it was all over. hope and beg and prey that despite seeing his face on the opposite side, despite seeing him next to the people that tore down their home, they won’t see him as the enemy. they won’t see him as evil. but just the battered and broken boy that didn’t have a choice. the battered and broken boy that couldn’t lose anymore.

as he looks out over hogwarts from his place in the astronomy tower, he mulls this over. no, not mulls, he grapples, he obsesses. mind racing repeatedly over how hopelessly fucked his life is about to become. he wonders desperately how he could have possibly let it get this far, he wonders what would have happened if he’d had just said no. surely his parents would be dead now, possibly himself, maybe even you.

now, himself and his father, he could deal with, he could accept. karma’s a bitch and boy did the malfoy men know how to anger her. but his mother, she was the only person to ever make him believe in love, in care, in hope. she would do anything for him, despite him knowing he could live a hundred lives and never deserve that. and you, oh god you. the only person to ever make draco feel as though he was lovable, not worthy of love, as he is convinced he never will be, but somehow, by some sort of miracle, you loved him. you were stubborn as hell and drove him insane but, praise merlin, did you care for that boy so fiercely and so passionately that he almost believed you when you told him he was a gift. he had some bumps and bruises, some scars that would take time to heal but he was precious and beautiful. irreplaceable.

the school grounds were bathed in darkness, stars littering the deep navy sky, reflecting off the black lake as though it were a mirror and dancing around before draco’s eyes. despite the late hours, a few lights still remained, glowing warmly from scattered windows around the castle, inviting the boy to dive into their saftey. an invitation he ignored. although his entire life was constantly casted in shadows, draco still finds a strange comfort in the darkness. the idea of going unseen but still being able to see it all, and, he supposes, it’s just all he’s ever known. he finds darkness at home, darkness at school, darkness in his mind, even some darkness in you, as no one can truly avoid it.

he drags his cold hands over his face, pressing them into his eyelids and watching as patterns appear and swirl beneath the pressure. the only thing that calls his attention away is the familiar sound of your pattering footsteps, climbing the old creaking stairs behind him.

“draco?” you call out as you reach the final step, catching a glimpse of the instantly recognisable platinum hair, only made harder to ignore in the silvery moonlight.

“over here.” he replies, not moving from his position of gripping the metal railing. you instantly recognise the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness of his neck. his mind is elsewhere, lost in what if’s and worst case scenarios.

you take a deep breath, heart already breaking for the boy infront of you, begging yourself to keep it together for him. to be the solid shoulder for him to lean on while everything feels so unstable. “i see you” you breathe out and make your way closer.

you arrive at his side but his eyes stay fixated right ahead, so many emotions swirling in his icy blues that you wonder whether there’s anyone there at all. his hands still grasp the bar infront of him so tightly his knuckles are white and all you can think to do in that moment is lay your, slightly smaller, hopefully warmer, hand atop his.

“you are the best thing that ever happened to me.” you speak out, mirroring his position and fixing your eyes upon the silhouettes of two birds dancing and twirling across the ever darkening skyline. “you know that right?”

you feel him turn his attention towards you, vision locking intently on the side of your face as though trying to discern something so impossibly complicated.

meeting his eyes, you raise your brows. not in a teasing way, but almost so as to open up more of your face to him, to put on display all of your emotions for him to read, desperate for him to find complete sincerity. he only shakes his head.

“i don’t deserve you.” is all he says, eyes glassy but the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

rolling your eyes, you reply: “do you think i give a fuck about what people deserve?” there’s a playful tint in your voice, only barely disguising the complete seriousness. draco lets out a short laugh at this, turning to lean his elbow against the railing, finally allowing some lightness to return to his features.

“draco fucking malfoy,” you jab a finger into his chest, “if i could, i would hand you the world with three tiny finger holes in the top and let you use it a fucking bowling ball, me being each one of the ten pins. i would let you repeatedly crush me with the world, which you hold in your hands, because i feel that’s what you deserve.”

“now, i feel that’s a bit rash.” he says, gaze softening even further and a more solid grin making its way upon his face. there’s humor in his voice and it adds a warmth to the night.

“it’s not up for debate.” you snap back, keeping up your serious facade for another two beats until draco rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself quietly.

the sound of his laughter and the beautifully curved grin on his lips brings a sort of joy to you that you can’t quite understand. a sense of pride, not at the fact you managed to make him smile, but at the fact he still can, after all he’s been through. when that beautiful, damaged boys face lights up in the way it just had, everything feels right in the world, nothing can go wrong, nothing can harm you, because draco is happy, draco is happy. it may only be for a moment, a brief second in a lifetime, but it gives you hope, it makes you warm. and you did mean it when you said that boy deserves the world, he truly, truly does.

a silence settles between the two of you and your attention shifts back to those same two birds, now sat comfortably atop one of hogwarts many spires, pressed up against eachother, keeping eachother warm.

“can i have a hug?” a timid voice speaks up from beside you. it’s such a weak and frail sound from someone who appears so casually strong that your heart clenches in your chest, turning your attention towards the delicate boy to your left. you smile up at him as warmly as you possibly can and slowly place a hand on his pale cheek, dusting your thumb lightly over the soft skin and relishing in how it heats slightly beneath you touch.

you only nod in response, dropping both your hands over his shoulders and drawing him into you, so closely and so tightly, he wonders if you’ll ever let him go. he decided he definitely hopes not. instantly, draco is wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you just as securely and somehow managing to bring your body impossibly closer to his, hips and chests flush together. you feel the butterflies fly wildly in your stomach, a sensation not uncommon when being around draco, as he nuzzles his head into your neck, inhaling deeply and making goosebumps shoot up across your body at the feeling of his soft breath against your skin.

“you deserve the world, draco malfoy.” you breathe out softly, sincerity laced thickly in your words, begging for the damaged boy to hear it and willing for him to finally believe it.

draco only grips you tighter, no words escaping his lips but an almost silent sniffle coming from his place snuggled into your shoulder. again you feel your heart in your throat and, in order to fight back your own set of tears that are balancing so dangerously close to falling, you begin to move from side to side, swaying oh so gently like branches in the wind. you cling onto draco and he to you, realising what you’re doing and moving just the same. you place a hand softly on the back of his head, sliding your fingers into his hair and drawing a hum out from the back of his throat that makes your knees buckle slightly.

you continue to sway for a few more moments, draco grasping you like the lifeline he saw you as and you holding him tenderly, savouring the feeling of his closeness as though it were the last drop of oxygen you’d ever receive. he begins to sway you in a circle, turning the pair of you around until your back was against the cold metal railing. you flinch slightly at the feel of the icy iron through your thin bed shirt, followed by the loss of draco’s weight against your neck, however the coldness is soon replaced by a flooding warmth when your eyes lock on his. the amount of emotion seeping from them brings a lump to your throat. there’s still the ghost of the hopelessness that always resides in his steely blues but right now, as he stares and you so intensely, all that can be seen is love. suffocating and overwhelming, soft and beautiful, completely overflowing, powerful love.

it takes everything in you not to scream, yell from the astronomy tower that you could never be more happy because he fucking loves you and you fucking love him and everything’s shit but you’re both in love. so intensely and passionately, in love.

and then he opens his mouth and the words spill like silk from his lips, curving around your heart and tying a beautiful bow atop it. a name tag hanging from the ribbon reads his name and you are sure it will never say any other for as long as the pair of you live, and even then after:

“i don’t want the world, dear, i only want you.”

then the tears spill and his lips meet yours. there’s fire and passion behind the kiss that has him pinning you to the balcony, hands tights against your waist. fire and passion that has you curving into him, hands lost in his hair. but the tears dancing between both your hot lips brings a sorrow to the kiss that makes your heart clench, a neediness that comes only from a broken boy, clinging to you with lust and simultaneously hopeless desperation. draco nips on your bottom lip lightly causing you to gasp softly which he takes as permission to begin the dance between your tongue and his own. each time you go in for more he treats it as receiving another breath of life, the love you’re presenting him with, filling his lungs and quenching his thirst better than anything else ever could.

finally, you pull back, gasping for air and running your tongue over your lips, weirdly addicted to the taste of draco mingled with both of your bitter, salty tears. he does the same, signature smirk adorning his features before he gently leans his forehead against yours, dropping a kiss to your nose that makes you’re heart swell.

“i love you, (Y/N), endlessly.” he breathes out, hand coming up to run his index finger delicately along your bottom lip.

“i love you too draco, endlessly.”

and in that moment, draco smiles. really, truly earnestly, smiles.

his world may be crumbling around him, he may be drowning in the darkness that spills from every person and every crevice of his mind; but, right now, on this balcony, with you in his arms and him in yours, it’s not the moon or the stars that’s keeping the astronomy tower alight. it’s you. it’s you and the love that you allow him to feel, the love that, when he’s with you, seeps from his very bones, pouring out of him and drowning the both of you.

and what a beautiful way to die.

𝐹𝑖𝑛

[redhawtriot]

Mirror Images (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Warning: mentions of stillbirth

This was a complete shift from what I write about recently...

HnM💕

“Let’s do this over again” “the sight of you makes me sick I never want to see you again”

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

The scene played distantly in front of your empty eyes: hundreds of pathetic, broken bodies staring sadly back at you through the sparkling shards of mirror. The legion of women in front of you seemed close to familiar, yet there was a far-off state of woe in their expressions that you had never seen before.

Your hand throbbed.

How dare they fucking look at you like that. Your eyes danced from their heartbroken expressions down to the small, diminishing lump on each of their stomachs. You watched the women’s cheeks become wet before your eyesight eventually succumbed to a stinging cloud of tears.  How dare they be so weak-- so inept--  so useless.

Another sharp sting shot up your hand, toward your arm, as your shredded fists once again came into harsh contact with the mirror in front of you, “Fuck you!” the shriek tore from your chest. The anguished scream that followed as you allowed your body to fall limply onto the bathroom floor sounded more like a confused and terrified animal in a slaughterhouse than a human being.

You laid with your eyes clenched shut as your hand came up to grip at your chest, as if you could rip the defective, broken heart straight out of you. You lurched against your twisted hands with painful sobs when suddenly, you heard a loud bang against the door. Next, you felt the bone-piercing chill of your hollow home creep into the small, humid area, “What the fuck are you doing!?” The bellowing words completely flew over your head as your eyes slowly pried opened to stare at the tile beside your face.

The chill left you wondering-- did a tiny ghost creep in with that draft?

Could you feel him with you just one more time?

Suddenly you felt your body being yanked up into a sitting position, “Y/N, snap out of it! Look at me!” The voice sounded so far away as you felt warm breath brush against your cheeks.

You felt a pair of hot and rough hands grab your head on both sides and closely lead you to an obscured face. A blurred mess of blonde and red came into your vision, but you couldn’t make sense of it. You couldn’t make sense of anything. You could only feel your bleeding hand and a dense fog weighing down on you and gripping tightly at your chest.

Your hand throbbed.

You absentmindedly wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, slicing a bit of your cheek with the spikes of glass embedded in your knuckles. You felt your hands being snatched away from your face as you attempted to speak, “I… I wanna die…”  your choked voice came out as a gargled breath and couldn’t even find it’s way to Bakugou’s ears.

“…What?” The words hardly registered in the man; however, he could read your lips well and after years of being with you, your expression even better,  “What did you just fucking say?!” fighting the urge to violently shake you in his hands, he suddenly released you from his grip-- leaving your heavy body to return to the tiled floors with a ‘smack.’

He stared at you as you sobbed uncontrollably on the ground.

What the fuck should he do? He feels like he’s tried everything.

You had been in this position for days. For days he’s been trying to keep you from completely falling apart, but it was like trying to plug a dam with sticky notes. He didn’t know if he could fix you.

He stared at your bloodied expression. He didn't know what to fucking do. 

“Leave me alone…” your meek voice softly shook Bakugou out of his thoughts, looking up to reveal your hazy, red eyes, “Please.” You weakly begged, stirring up feelings within the blond. The bounty of emotions, which had been simply simmering until this point, finally erupted toward his throat. It burned.

Fuck! He was useless!

He knew that nothing he said would make you feel better. He couldn’t reverse what had already happened, and he sure as hell wasn’t the type of person that could magically erase your sadness with a few soft spoken words.

There really was nothing else he could do.

The feeling of helplessness was the final emotion to crack the dam that he himself had been trying so fucking hard to keep erect for the past few days. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

No fuck that. He wasn’t going to give up. He was gonna plug your dam no matter what. He couldn’t break. He was gonna put you back together, even if it killed him.

“I’m not fucking leaving, you idiot,” he leaned down to gather you up into his arms. You felt your limp body mold again this own as he tried to hold you tightly, as if he was afraid that you would fall apart otherwise.

He was probably right, but dammit! Maybe you needed to fall apart. Maybe this misery was deserving for a no good, useless, fuck up like you.

“Just Go!” You screamed as you shoved him away from you, “I-I cant look at you, Katsuki!” You blinked away your hot tears to meet with his horrified expression. You had actually never seen him so scared in your entire time of knowing him, but you couldn’t think about that in that moment. No. The only thing that your brain could think of when you saw him was your baby boy’s face, “The sight of you makes… it makes me sick!”

Bakugou’s heart lurched and twisted at your words. The man’s face also contorted as a glare found its way back home to his expression. That face was the only thing holding his tears from falling freely down his face as you continued, “God I am so sick with myself. I can’t do any fucking thing right. I let e-everyone down. You, our families, our friends. They were all so happy for us and I fucking ruined it! I just! I c-can’t… I killed him, Katsuki!” as the final chunk of your rant flew out, it was as if your last bout of strength flew out alongside it. Your body crumpled to the floor once again, “I never want to feel like this again. I never want to see you again-- anyone again! I-I… I want to die!” you twisted your face deeply into the tiles to release another succession of sobs. 

You laid crying for a few moments in silence before you felt a warm body curl up next to you— their strong presence wrapping themselves around you before pulling you closely, “This isn’t the end. Not the end of you, and sure as hell not the end of us,” the gruff words smoothed out a piece of your soul and left you feeling a sense of comfort that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He continued with a harsher tone, “So fucking get that through your head right now and stop talking so damn crazy. It’s wasn’t your fault,” he finished strongly, but you knew it wasn't the full truth.

“I see how you look at me now.” you looked up at him just in time to see his eyebrows lift toward his forehead, “You have to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. It wasn’t just your kid, you know. I’m fucking hurting too,” his brows plummeted once more as a stern expression settled onto his face. He stared at you as if he was daring you to deny him.

You accepted his dare, “You don’t show it…”

“Well, FUCK, Y/N!” he boomed, causing your body to jolt a little at the sudden noise,  “I have to be strong for your ass. There’s no one to pick you up if I’m a mess!” his voice cracked in just about every other syllable, alarming you and incentivizing you to turn your entire body towards his chest. You clearly saw the first tear drop from his face—fat and heavy as if it was preparing for forever for this moment, “But I am a mess okay? I can’t go two seconds without thinking about him, dammit. I sit in his nursery and I think about how I am never gonna be there for him. It tears me up!”  he was now sobbing just as you had been a few minutes ago, his chest thudding against your own, “But I still have you. I still have you to be there for, so don’t give up on me... please.” His voice fell with every word he spoke so that the last one was only just audible.

You’d never seen him so destroyed. Defeated.

God, were you really so inconsiderate?

Bakugou had been strong for you as always, but did it really take for him shattering right in front of you to make you realize that the loss affected more than just you? The two of you should have been there for each other, but instead, as your life slipped through your fingers, you had unknowingly been sucking up the life out of him to compensate.

That wouldn’t fucking do.

He is your rock-- your strength, and he deserves someone who can do the same for him.

Your hand throbbed.

It yearned for contact as you reached out to the man laying beside you, “You still have me too. I’m here, baby,” as you gathered up into his crying form it was as if the cloud had been lifted from your hazy mind. The man in front of you was so clearly broken. Even with fog in your brain, you couldn’t believe how you didn’t see it before, “God, I am so sorry,” you breathed out as you planted a kiss onto his forehead. You wiped his tears away and attempted a weak smile at him, “Let’s do this over again. We can both be there for each other this time, okay? I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” he finished before pulling you as close as he could to him on the tiled floor. 

[floralseokjin]

;decalcomania 1. (m)

no matter how hard you both try, the past will never return 

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader  genre/warnings; angst, mature content, cheating mentions, vomit mentions  words; 2,669

part 2 found here

He was torn. To close his eyes and try his best to lose himself in the past, where you were both so happy and content, so in love that the world could never hurt you, or to keep his eyes open, savouring your beauty. The way your eyelashes cast downwards, painting shadows across your cheekbones in the dim lighting. The way your mouth parted, pleasure etching its way across the rest of your face as you moaned softly. Quietly. Like you didn’t want to give all of yourself to him. Not anymore. 

You had once upon a time. He was the one you trusted the most. The one who had always been there for you. Loved you unconditionally. The one who would never hurt you. 

He’d ruined that the night he’d fallen into another’s bed. 

It was a miracle you still wanted him after such a betrayal. But you did. Forgiveness was a work in progress. Had been for so long now, and as the weeks dragged into months, he was beginning to think it was impossible. He didn’t blame you. He hadn’t forgiven himself yet. He didn’t think he ever would. 

But it was easy to kid himself when you reached for him in the dead of night. Wrapping your arms around him, lips hesitant but in need against his. Sick of the gap between the both of you. The cold sheets. The silence. You were hungry for some love. The love he’d ruined. Because even though you were finding everything so difficult, and rightfully so, you still craved him badly. He was all you’d ever known after all. Likewise, until he’d fucked it all up. 

Each time he had you like this, spread so beautifully and under him, it always felt like it was the last time. Like he had to prepare himself for the inevitable. For the end. 

It never was. 

You were both too weak to let go. You, because you thought you needed him, and him, because he was selfish. 

He chose to keep his eyes open. Only because yours were closed tight. You were lost in the past for the both of you, hanging on for dear life. That, and he knew you couldn’t dare look at him when you were like this. He didn’t know what you saw, but he could guess. Visions of him with someone else. He didn’t know what you felt, but he could guess. 

And he hated himself. 

He hated himself for fucking up your life. 

It hadn’t always been like this. You’d been happy for a long time, young and in love. But like everyone, age caught up with you both, and with age came change. Jungkook hated to admit it, even now, after everything, but he wasn’t who he used to be. That was where all your troubles began. Where it all went wrong. 

One argument. Brewing for God knows how long, about how he’d changed. Work had skewed his mind, that’s what you’d said. He’d lost himself along the way. He wasn’t the Jungkook you knew, and you wanted him back. He was stubborn, always had been, so he’d venomously denied it. He’d shouted. He’d slammed his fists against counters and thrown things. If he had changed then so had you. He wasn’t solely to blame, and he wouldn’t let you turn it all on him. 

Looking back, he knew he had been wrong. He was deflecting. Scared and hurt. You hadn’t changed at all. Not even one little bit. But maybe that was the problem. You were both moving in different directions but still tied so tightly together. Unable and unwilling to cut the cord loose.

That evening he’d watched you throw his things into trash bags, hearing the same words over and over again. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over. He still heard them four hours later, the bags at Jimin’s place while he sat in a shitty bar somewhere. Alone, seething and heartbroken. He got drunk to the rhythm, it’s over, ordering one drink after the other. In the midst of it all he saw a woman making eyes at him from across the room. It was obvious what she wanted. He probably reeked of self pity, wallowing in his sorrows, glass after glass. Some people got off on that. 

She made her way over and listened to him. It was nice talking to a stranger. Someone who wasn’t biased. Someone who didn’t know you. He called you a bitch at some point. He remembered that vividly. The rest he’d tried to block out. The woman had been nice to him, rubbed his shoulder as she comforted him, stroked his arm, squeezed his leg. She’d told him all the things he’d needed to hear. To make himself feel better. About how you didn’t deserve him and how much this seemed like an excuse to ease your own guilt for not loving him anymore. That tore at his heart. He hadn’t realised you might not love him anymore. He wondered how long you could have possibly felt like that. You seemed selfish, that’s what she had said, but that couldn’t be right. He was the selfish one, always had been, and definitely right now. 

He’d let the woman kiss him, whisper things in his ear that got his dick hard. It made him sick to try and remember, but that’s what had happened. That’s how he’d found his way into her bed, repeating the same words in his head as he stripped and fucked the stranger. You didn’t want him anymore. It was over. You didn’t love him. 

The guilt ate him up as soon as he woke up in the early hours of the next morning. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not quite making it to Jimin’s place as he threw up in an alleyway a block away. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or revulsion at himself. It just kept coming, heave after heave, even when the contents of his stomach had been stripped. Memories of last night warping their way behind his eyes as he clenched them tight. It was clear then. 

It was a deep self loathing that made him spill his guts. 

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he ripped it out, seeing your name. His heart dropped when he read the messages. About how you couldn’t sleep at all last night without him there, about how much you regretted what you’d said and how you couldn’t let him go like that. You loved him too much, and you wanted to try and make things work, if he would let it. You were just so damn sorry. 

It made him heave again, a fresh sickness spreading, even though there was only sour, yellow bile left. 

Jimin had heard him rush through the apartment, calling out to him, wondering where he’d been and assuming it was back home, making up with you. One look at Jungkook dismantled that. He had no choice but to confess, beside himself, and Jimin listened in horror, unable to understand why he would do such a thing. One thing was for certain though, he needed to tell you. He knew that even before Jimin demanded him to. If he wanted to try to salvage this, he needed to confess. The thought made him feel sick, but he knew if he didn’t, he would never be able to live with himself. He didn’t think he could live with it even after confessing… 

He’d showered in scalding hot water, until his skin was red and sensitive, desperate to wash off his sin, yet it didn’t feel enough. He was still dirty. He was still a cheat. 

You’d looked relieved when he’d turned up at the door, clutching him, whispering desperately about how sorry you were. He wanted more than anything to be able to reassure you it didn’t matter. To hold you tight and promise things would go back to how they were. But he couldn’t. It was a lie. You had nothing to be sorry about, while he had everything, weighing down on his heart, his body. 

He would never forget the look on your face as he told you. The floor disappeared from under your feet, and you looked like you might pass out. First there was a shocked silence, denial following soon after. Then the anger consumed you. You’d shouted at him, screamed at him, until your throat was raw. The hate in your eyes almost made him cower. You demanded he gave you all the nasty, sordid details. He tried to fight, he tried to beg, but it was to no use. You wanted to know everything, and he had to fight through the haziness and his shame to recall the night previous. You listened silently, no expression on your face, eyes dead. He tried desperately to emphasise how much he hadn’t enjoyed it, but you had just sneered at him. He knew it was all just excuses. Nothing could change. He had done it. He couldn’t take it back. 

Finally, you cried. You cried so hard it brought you to your knees, took your breath away. He had ruined your life in a few simple words. He remembered how helpless he’d felt. Unable to comfort you because he was the reason for your misery. He’d spent so long protecting and cherishing you and now this is what he had done. All because his pride had been bashed. All because he was selfish. All because he was a fool. 

You cried until no more tears would come. Rough sobs continued to rattle your chest, tore at your throat, but with a strength he found admirable, you were finally able to compose yourself. It could have been minutes, hours, his head was too much of a mess to judge time. You looked him dead in the eyes and told him you hated him. He was the person you trusted most in this world and he’d betrayed you. He was the one you’d loved for so long, but he was the one who had hurt you so easily, without a second thought. 

He tried to hold you. He tried to make you see how sorry he was, but you wouldn’t listen. He’d wanted you to so badly listen. Instead, you screamed at him to get out, and he couldn’t bear it. 

He’d finally broken down. He’d sobbed, falling to his knees as you stood before him. Wrapped his arms around your legs and hugged himself to you like a scared little child. He was so scared. The reality of losing you was too much to stand. You were his life. He was nothing without you. He needed you to believe that, but now you no longer trusted anything that came out of his mouth. You were unemotional as you watched on, not an ounce of sympathy on your face. Not that he deserved it. He knew that. 

So, he had no choice but to listen. To leave, dazed and distraught, aimlessly walking around town like he was lost until he somehow found his way back to Jimin’s apartment. 

But like he’d said, he was selfish. He couldn’t leave it like that. He could make everything right again, make it better. He knew it.

Each day he tried to contact you. For the first week you didn’t pick up his calls, ignored his voice messages and his texts, but he didn’t give up. He just tried harder. When he finally heard your voice again, he broke down once more, plea forgotten for a moment. To his surprise you seemed moved by his reaction, voice almost gentle, just like it had always been. He didn’t deserve it. You asked him to talk about anything. Anything and everything that wasn’t about what he’d done. You just wanted to pretend for a little while. Pretend he was away for work and you were catching up. 

He could do that for you. He could do anything. 

Pretending came easy at first. He was just so thankful. But you’d been doing it for months now and it wasn’t getting any better. Instead of acknowledging his betrayal and trying to work past it, you’d both ignored it completely. He’d let it happen because he was a coward, just so, so happy you were giving him a chance. Slowly letting him back into your life, back into your house, and back into your bed. 

Only there was something missing. 

You weren’t letting him back into your heart. He had tried so hard, he was still trying so hard, but he was beginning to realise it might not work. That this was it. 

He’d ruined everything. One mistake that he couldn’t take back, couldn’t forget, and couldn’t make up for. Yes, you still loved him, but it was also so more than that. Something unhealthy and consuming. Your attachment to one another had grown so much over the years, that you both couldn’t imagine life without the other. It was impossible. So, you kept holding on no matter how unhappy it made you, and he had to live every waking moment hating himself. He did not want pity, but he wished this feeling would stop one day. Without your forgiveness he didn’t think it ever would. 

The most selfish need of them all. 

He was long used to looking at his reflection and not recognising the person in front of him. He wasn’t who he used to be. Not even just before the betrayal, but further than that. When you were both so young and in love. Naïve, but happy that way. 

He wanted to be the boy you’d fallen in love with again so badly. For you. For him. But as each day passed, he understood it was impossible. 

Tonight, he tried his best. If this was the night you’d finally had enough, finally gained the courage to let him go, then he would accept it. It would eat him whole, but he’d accept it. He just wanted to make everything perfect for the last time he got to hold you like this, and then he would leave if you requested it. 

Parting was always the hardest during nights like these. When he had to slip from your warmth and lose the only way he felt attached to you anymore. It killed him. His mind whirred, agonising over whether you were going to end it right then and there. He kissed your mouth softly like he always did, but so deeply tonight, like he wanted to sink and get lost. 

He waited for your reaction. 

Some nights everything would be okay, and you would open your eyes and smile, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him to your body. Nights like those gave him a false hope. When he thought true forgiveness was coming. Reality hit him hard again the next day. Other nights you’d roll onto your side, shaking him off. Separating you both. Instant cold back again. Those nights made him hate himself even more. He could only imagine you felt the same way about yourself. 

Tonight however, was something different entirely. He watched as your face contorted, expression crumbling before you wept. It stunned him for a moment, not having seen you cry this hard since he’d confessed, but quickly he took you in his arms, cradling you to his body as you sobbed. Tears pricked his own eyes as he kissed your head and shushed you. Words on the tip of his tongue that he hesitated to get out. Finally, he did. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 

Over and over again, like he was begging to make things right, begging to be heard. He would hold you all night if he had to, repeating the same apology until you fell to sleep. 

He was scared. Head swarming with thoughts of the unknown. 

This had not happened before. He prayed it was a good sign. 

Only morning would tell. 

Written 2019-20. Reworked/Edited 2021 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[soggybensolo]

Homecoming

@obsessionprofessional​ Asked: May I request 87 (”One more moment is all I’m asking for.”) with Ben after he returns to the light? Maybe he tries to talk to the reader and she doesn’t know if she wants to listen. Could it turn into fluffy smut? 

A/N: I’m not gonna lie- this took me forever to write. it was such a simple request and I spent a lot of time trying to go above and beyond. Thank you for all the love. XOXO

Prompts: 87. “One more moment is all I'm asking for.”

WARNINGS: language. SOME R*ylo (NOT A R*YLO FIC). Fluffy Smut? Suspense. 

He looked around the celebration. There were so many people and not a single one of them was you. He was hoping for a chance to see you again. It had been 17 years since last he spoke with you and it didn’t end the way he had hoped. He never thought he’d be back. He always pictured himself dead sooner rather than later.

“Ben,” Rey began. “Are you alright?”

“Of course.” he lied.

Rey rubbed his arm supportively. “We’re home now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe.”

He looked into her eyes. After all that she had just been through they still looked so naive. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Rey smiled adoringly. “I’d do it all again if I had to.”

Ben leaned against a table and gave her a small smile. “I know.”

She leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to have a chat with others. If you need me, let me know.”

“I will.”

Ben stayed for a bit longer before slipping away unnoticed by the partygoers. Rey was play fighting with Poe while he had Finn in a headlock and the majority didn’t care to see him. He moved around the base completely unfamiliar with its halls and if it had not been for the force he would have gotten lost on his way to find you. He held his hand out to a bedroom door and it slid open.

You sat at a small table with a tray of tea, and your gaze locked on your window. It was unsettling the news of his arrival home, healthy, and with somebody else. You thought you’d never see Ben again, at least not alive.

“Hey- uh- How are you?” he dragged out.

Setting down your teacup and adjusting your posture, you pursed your lips in disgust. So posh.

“I’m well, thank you. I’d ask how you’ve been but I already know. The whole damn galaxy knows.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Save it,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to say ‘I’m sorry’ especially since I told you this was going to happen. I warned you years ago but you didn’t listen to me, Ben! I told you so!”

Ben pouted, tears pulling in his eyes. “I know. I should have listened to you.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered even if you did. I had already seen your ending and I know how this will end.” You were a psychic. When it came to the force, premonition was the only power you had.

Ben knew better than anyone that all your visions were to come true. He never tried to ignore that even when it was something he didn’t want to hear. “I was stupid to think I could change my fate. Really I was.”

When he reached for your hands you yanked them away. “Stop. don’t touch me. you know I can feel everything when you do that.”

“I’m sorry.” he whimpered.

“Where’s Rey?”

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes spitting venom. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate for you to be alone with me in my quarters? I don’t think she’d like that.”

“I’m sorry for it, truly , but I can’t deny what I have with her.”

Ben dropped down to his knees in front of you. He was crying for you. Fate had been so cruel and punished you for loving him. When the universe tore you apart the first time, you defied the maker and chased after him. When he was ripped from your life the second time it left you with permanent consequence and turned your life upside down. Ripping it apart from the seams and sewing it back together in mental exile.

“It was going to happen one way or another but who was I to try to play god and stop it?”

“(y/n), I did miss you.” He looked at his hands afraid what your face would scream at him. “It was hard without you for a while but over time it didn’t hurt as bad. I really thought you were it for me. You know Rey’s a lot like you in some ways. It’s scary just how much she reminds me of you. It makes my heart hurt. It makes me crave you.”

You clenched your jaw, containing the urge to slug him or smash him over the head with the teapot. “Well, I’m just so fucking happy for you. While you were off in space like some damn primadonna I was here. Left alone to deal with our burdens. Reminded every day of you.”

“Look, I know I lied to you about everything. I know abandoned you when you need me most and the maker knows I did you wrong…. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I sure as hell don’t deserve you— but can you just forgive me for tonight?” Ben’s lip quivered and his golden eyes grew big. “One more moment is all I’m asking for.”

Saying nothing at all, you enveloped his trembling body into your arms. He was as warm as you remembered and still smelled the same. The only thing different about Ben was that he was a man now. His arms, chest, and legs were ten times thicker than the boy you used to hold. All had changed but his eyes. They were the only thing that remained the same. Still in time. Youthful as ever.

He Softly brushed his pouty lips against yours. Kissing you with passion and old flames. His fingers traveled from your cheeks, through your hair and found themselves at the hem of your dress.

Ben was good at begging and you were good at taking him back.

Ben lifted you to the bed adjusting so he could be on top. He was the right kind of dominant, yet gentle with his touch. How someone could manhandle in a soft way was a true gift.

“I feel like I’m 16 again,” you smiled, reaching for the ends of his tunic.

He pulled the fabric with ease, tossing it into the unknown. He kissed your cheek then dove for your neck. He nipped Delicately with his teeth then with his lips, following an invisible trail down your sternum. He kissed your left collarbone followed by the right, kissed the top of your left breast and then the right and finally kissed cleavage.

“You definitely didn’t have all of this at 16.” He teased cupping your chest in his hands.

“I was a late bloomer you ass!” You laughed, punching his arm.

Ben laughed back. His laughter was that of a child, sweet and melodic. Before his fall and before his padawan days his laughter was all you heard. He was a good boy with a funny personality. Though some said he was a brooding introvert you knew he was outgoing around the right people. All Ben ever wanted to do was to make something out of himself and make someone proud. He just wanted people to believe in him. To accept him. To love him.

He always felt loved by you.

Sliding your dress up past your hips and over your head, Ben undressed you. His eyes were hungry and his stomach was empty. The body is a temple, maker was he grateful for yours. He used his thumbs to carve out your hip bones and rotated them in a circle. He ran his tongue along the ends of his teeth, he was mesmerized by the image before him. Ben was an absolute fucking idiot, and walking away from you was the best/worst decision he’d ever made.

“Take a holoscan. It’ll last longer.”

Ben smirked, leaning in to kiss you. He entered you like a sanctuary and all at once his body was full of haven. The sense of security he had been missing had now returned. There was no woman in the galaxy that could make him feel the way you did. Kylo Ren was an idiot from stopping him from seeing you sooner. An idiot too prideful to admit he needed someone, but was even stupider to try to throw it all away for some scavenger.

“Ben-” You moaned, staring him straight in his golden eyes. “If you asked… I would have followed.”

“I know-” he whispered, tangling your fingers with his. “I saw two futures.”

“One where I lived and one where I died.”

“Used my last two good brain cells to make a decision,” he smiled wholeheartedly. “At least I did one thing right.”

Ben kept his sight locked on yours as he thrust faster, edging the both of you. Crying out in unison. He squeezed your hands, observing your expression. You were an angel to him. He truly didn’t deserve you. Kylo Ren would not have been good for you. Ben still wasn’t sure if he was good for you. He fucked up your life forever.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Ben.” you sighed in harmony.

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

He grunted going deeper. “Please?”

“Oh, Ben-” you sang “Ben.”

As your toes curled his movements became sloppy. What felt like forever had now come to an end. He peeked first, then you.

“Hey, are you alright in there?” A males voice called from behind the door.

Ben shot up. “Who’s that?”

“You need to go,” you whispered quickly, collecting his things. “He can’t see you. He can’t know you’re here.”

“Who can’t? Are you married!?” he hissed pulling on his pants.

You ran your hands through disheveled hair while you frantically looked for your dress. “No! I wouldn’t do this if I was!”

“Hello, are you in there?” the voice called again. “I can hear you moving around in there. If you don’t open the door I’ll just hack the keypad again.”

“Ok, out the window!” you panicked. “I need you to leave Ben and I need you to never come around here again.”

Ben pulled his tunic back over his head, feeling a twinge in his chest. “What are you hiding!? Is it what you were going to say to me?”

“It’s not what I’m hiding. It's what I’m protecting. I’ve decided to use my last two brain cells to make the right decision.” you rushed throwing on your clothes.

“What the f-”

“Mom.” the door slid open.

Ben froze and you shut your eyes. “Mom?”

“Who the hell-” your son began. “Dad?”

[stixxxy]

Siege-o-ween Day 14

Heyoo!!! I’m so happy to take part in this event @dualrainbow hosted. apologies if there’s any errors I’m no way as skilled as the other people who took part! so the only warning is there’s some kinda graphic scenes at the end (not adult, kinda like somewhat gore).

Prompt: “If you say let’s split up, I swear to God.”

—————————

The weatherbeaten roof seemingly curved in, threatening to give in at any moment; even from a kilometre away, you could hear the creaks of the infrastructure as the wind battered its side. The house was almost hidden by the contorted pine trees which surrounded it as though they were a shield, protecting the old building from the eyes of passerby’s and the clouds above casting a shadow onto the area. The mist creeped through the bends of the trees and hovered above the ground before disappearing a meter in front of where they stood.

Jordan “Thermite” Trace was leaning against the rover which had been parked outside the rickety house, lighting a cigarette as he waited for the others to grab the equipment. He let out a sigh, the smoke escaping from his lips and fading into the mist. The mission wasn’t too extreme, just a quick in and out job from where a suspected white mask group ran in to.. nothing to drastic. But yet Jordan stood still as the cold nipped his tanned nose, looking onward at the eerily old house which seemed as though one small step could cause the place to crumble... that’s why there was only 4 of them. He tapped his cigarette, the ash crumbling onto the soggy mud beside his boots.

“You ready to go?” The approaching brit asked, his gear in hand.

The American nodded his head, letting the cigarette plummet to the ground.

The 4 sent where consisted on him, Jordan Trace, the Brit- Mark Chandar, Eliza Cohen & their newest (but certainly not youngest) recruit Sam Fisher, or he preferred “Zero”. The mission was, what Jordan believed, to just be a simple intel gathering mission to get Fisher accustomed to being in team Rainbow. Even if it was, Jordan knew there wouldn’t be a ‘jokey’ atmosphere, Zero was more of an edgy ‘i do everything myself’ kinda guy, Mark was brash also honest to a point, Eliza was Eliza- intense, and then there was Jordan, an extrovert who likes to joke around. Of course the 3 weren’t too bad, they just lacked the energy that Jordan thrived on. And the house in front was no help.

“You reckon it’s haunted?” Jordan joked, throwing a sideways smile to Mark who just shrugged in response... life of the party.

“I don’t believe in stuff like that, it doesn’t make sense scientifically. Even if you ignore the science it still doesn’t make sense,” the young man let out a sigh,” like what does it accomplish becoming a ghost? What causes you to become a ghost?”

Another topic added on what to bring up when speaking to Mute. Ghosts. That list was ever growing by the day. Thankfully Eliza and Fisher were just coming around the corner, allowing another Mute rant to fade as the man retreated back into his quieter self. It was an interesting quirk that Mark had, Jordan thought, Mark managed to hold conversations for what would seem like hours with a one on one with someone he knew, but the second another joined- there was silence.

“Jäger called,” Eliza announced, tossing a radio to Jordan, “he said he’ll pick us up at 15:00, giving us an hour and a half to find whatever information is here. I and Mute will take the back, covering the second floor and attic. Zero, I want you and Jordan to take the first and basement,” Jordan shot a glance at the elder who had his gaze focused on Ash, “we’ll meet back here at 14:50.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, it wasn’t long until Ash and Mute left to trek into unknown territory, leaving Jordan with the new recruit.

“Loosen up, you’ll pull a muscle,” those were the first words Fisher spoke to Jordan, this was definitely going to be fun.

The short walk to the creepy house was filled with silence, the only sound being the gravel shifting underneath their boots and the creaking of the trees fighting against the wind. There was nothing suspicious of the area, apart from the groaning of the ancient building and how something so seemingly dead uttered noises of so much life. Despite what Mark had said earlier, the place definitely had a ‘haunted’ vibe, but fortunately ‘ghost hunting’ wasn’t part of their job- it was to find the real monsters.

Oh to be at the base rewatching Mamma Mia for the fifth time instead, but he still pitied the rest who had to stay behind to watch musicals all day- yet Jordan would prefer listening to Senaviev’s attempt at singing than enter the chilling structure which lay before him.

“So did ‘Liza specify what we’re looking for?” Jordan’s question broke the silence as they entered the building careful, as if it would crumble to a single wrong step.

Zero steadily peered around the corner as they were about to step into the hallway, “Just something that would give us any more information on the White Masks, whether it be location or weapon sources.”

The hard breacher nodded, gripping his gun a bit tighter as a small groan tore through the air. It was stupid to be scared, the supernatural was that, supernatural. Not real. But yet even with a gun, every small noise caused fear- if there was a person or a rabid animal, he had a gun, so statistically he should be safe.

Jordan followed fisher through the first floor, keeping an eye out for any potential hiding spots or where they could get jumped- it was doubtful that there’d be any White Masks anyways, the electricity wasn’t on and the place seemed as if it had been left abandoned to rot away for years. There was occasionally some muttering, but Jordan just reduced that to Eliza and Mark on the floor above them- nothing out of the ordinary. From the last question Jordan asked, there had been no words spoken between the two operators for nearly 10 minutes- 10 long minutes of searching what seemed to be a barren building. This whole thing was making Jordan miss talking to their newest hard breacher, Ace would’ve annoyed the shit out of him- but a conversation would be great to calm his nerves.

The duo entered the basement, drips from leaky pipes echoed through the tunnels. The tunnel was long, seemingly endless with curves separating from it into their own empty labyrinths. If there was someone in that building, it would have to be here. Zero took lead, walking down the hallway with only the flashlight on their guns to show the way- at this point Thermite had removed his goggles which allowed him a bit more sight. It was too quiet also, the water dripping had seemed to stop and the only noise was their breaths and footing on the basement floor.

Jordan finally tried to engage in a conversation,”quiet ain’t it, must be more familiar to you?”

A simple ‘hm’ was all Zero responded with, his old eyes scanning what little they could see. Jordan ran a hand through his greying hair, not to bad- mid 30s and he had already got grey hairs... Usually the job was more active, running and gunning white masks, the underwhelming mission only added a tad of frustration to the Texan. Jordan couldn’t wait to get away from this creep show ‘base’ and to get back to civilisation where he wasn’t a mix of boredom and paranoid.

A soft growl hummed to the right of Jordan, causing him to turn- gun hoisted up ready to shoot-

“It’s probably just an animal Trace,” Fisher rest a hand on Jordan’s gun- lowering it, “you alright son?”

Jordan shrugged, bitting his lip as he rubbed the side of his head, “yeah, I.. I’m fine, just not a fan of the quiet. Grown accustomed to being more on the front lines I guess.”

Fisher’s glare softened, “alright if you say so.” The older returned to himself, leaving Jordan to catch a breath, “this place is creepy though.”

The texan could only respond with a soft laugh, “yeah.”

They continued their search of the basement, making sure every stone was turned practically. This time with a little more conversation from Zero so the silence wouldn’t turn him insane- Jordan suspected the quiet was even getting to the other man too. Jordan stood still in his tracks, he noted a door which was slightly ajar unlike the others which had been shut but not locked. Fisher turned his head to face the door in question, its hinges rusted from the pipe leaking unknown substances onto it for probably years. The liquid was most likely water, but with sewage mixed in.

Jordan took front, pushing the door slightly open which the door creaked in compliance- their flashlights seeping light into the room and onto what sat pushed to the side.

Bingo.

“Should we radio in saying we found it?” Jordan asked, watching Fisher jog towards the desk and attempt to boot up the computer which was oddly modern compared to the murky surroundings.

Jordan stood at the doorway, keeping the door open with the steal-toe cap on his boot. The room had power, and seemingly was the only room to do so as the bulb on the ceiling flickered but remained on. The White Masks must have left in a hurry and dumped all the gear they couldn’t bring in that room. Blood soaked clothing, pistols and others had been shoved to the side and out of the dim bulb light path.

Fisher let out a groan, his face tensing,” I can’t get in, we’re going to need that kid.”

“Wait wait wait, let me have at it first,” Jordan suggested, leaving the door to slam shut as he headed towards the computer.

Guessing a terrorist groups’ password was not exactly in the job description, but there was no harm in trying. Jordan budged past Zero, leaning on the desk as he looked at the screen *enter password* was flashing in white upon the light blue backing- here went nothing.. Jordan’s burnt hands scattered across the keyboard as he typed in his guess.

•welcome user_77_657_39•

The screen lit up with documents filling the home screen, clustering it up like a virus. They had access to whatever the hell the White Masks were hiding- finally, team rainbow was on the same step and with this information could climb further up, letting them have an advantage over the terrorists finally. All Jordan had to do was enter the chemical name for the white masks infamous gas and add a largely known number linked with terrorism and he was in. Bringing the chemistry know it all did accomplish something for the mission. Jordan took a step back, allowing Zero to scan the documents for any information that was to be read asap. He swore a look of horror shifted onto Fishers previously numb face.

“We still need Ash and Mute, they need to download this information so we can take the files with us back asap,” Zero grabbed his radio, “Ash this is Zero, we’ve found a computer with a tone of files. You need to get down ASAP. Over.”

Silence.

“Copy that Zero, We’re heading down now. Over.”

Zero put his face in his hands for a minute before muttering something about chemical testing.. but Jordan didn’t catch it all.

Zero huffed, pushing himself away from the desk to stand upright. “They’re going to need help navigating that corridor-“

“-If you say let’s split up, I swear to god.”

“Relax, there’s nothing here- all you have to do is walk back to the entrance and lead the two here,” Fisher told, crossing his arms as he stood back.

Jordan let out a sigh, nodding his head. Of course he had no reason to be scared, they’d checked the corridor before hand, he was just going to return back and lead Eliza and Mark to the room, then they could leave this cursed building forever. Letting out a small ‘yes sir’, the Texan exited the room and was plunged into the damp tunnel

The tunnel now felt a lot colder than before, the wind which had been battering the above building clearly managed to shove open a door and make itsway down into the depths below the first floor. Sewage was piling up at where the wall met the floor, making a sickly smell which filled the endless corridor. Jordan started to make his way to the entrance, his gun ready incase something popped out of nowhere. This wasn’t to do with Jordan being scared of the dark- he never had been; his sister would often make fun of him when they were kids because he got too scared to walk anywhere in the dark after watching the IT miniseries, but yet that was what lead Jordan to be scared of what used the shadows as a cloak. To be fair, Jordan knew what was somewhat valid.. But a 35 year old man with a gun who toured with the marines scared of what hid in the dark.. That did sound a bit iffy.

Walking back was easier than before, before they had no idea about what his behind each door and what would be ahead, but yet his stomachs felt queasy as if there was something they had missed. But that’s all it was, a feeling right? The ever growing pit which deepened each step he took down the infinite corridor, the smell of sewage growing more putrid to a level it resembled the smell of rotting flesh, the smell wasn’t real right? But as the odour grabbed his throat, it haulted him in his tracks- pulling him towards the source from which it came from. Behind a locked door was where the source of the smell had been trapped away. Kicking locked doors down wasn’t hard, especially if the door was barely secured onto the doorframe. The beaten wood topled to the floor with a bang, splashing some unknown liquid onto Jordan. The flashlight was brought up to glaze across the room, the light flickering as it glanced upon what lay in the center of the room.

“Fuck,” was all Jordan could choke out, the smell making him gag as he opened his mouth, or maybe it was the sight.

Whatever lay in front of him had been altered so many times that it barely even resembled a human, flesh stuck together as if it were play-doh, a face could barely be put together due to the amount of flies playing in the pile of rotting flesh and blood. The more breaths he took, the more faint he felt. There would always be something that’s too much. Jordan stumbled back, an attempt to catch the damp air of the corridor outside. The pile of body parts cried out for him, begging for him to save them from that torture.

“Jordan where are you?” the crackle of his radio barely reached through to him.

Jordan leant against the mouldy wall opposite the room, eyes dull as he looked at the darkness where the thing was. Splitting up was a great idea.. he tried to smile but all he could was stand motionless. Hoping someone would get to him and help him out of this rotting house.

——————

jehdjdh sorry it’s short (still over 1k though) but i struggle with focusing, i hope it’s alright though.

[madbucker]

Silhouettes | Daryl Dixon.

Eventual Daryl Dixon x female reader.

IV.

Season 1.

MASTERLIST.

Loosely based on the song We Will Become Silhouettes by The Postal Service.

Summary: Y/N follows Rick to Atlanta. They find a group willing to help them.

Warnings: language, gore stuff (twd style), mentions of death, mentions of domestic abuse. Will add more warnings depending on the chapter’s content. Let me know if you think it needs some other warning!

Word count: 3.6k.

Author’s note: First things first, I’m not a native English speaker, so bear with me! You can send me a message or an ask pointing out some mistakes so I can edit the post. Also, it will help me learn the language, so don’t hesitate! Had this in my drafts for a few days. I hope you like it! ♥

Gif’s not mine.

“Morgan…” You couldn’t find the right words to express how grateful you were. You looked at Morgan and Duane with conflict showing in your eyes: you were happy and hopeful that you were going to find your sister in Atlanta, but you couldn’t ignore the anguish, the heartbreak of leaving them. Every second counted, and waiting a few more days could lower your chances of finding her alive, but those two had saved your life. What if leaving them lowered their chances of making it to safety? Even if you weren’t suited for survival, having someone else around could make a difference.

“Go, this is your chance. We’ll meet again, soon.” Morgan took over as if he knew how much you were feeling at the moment, embracing you not only with his arms but with his words.

Yeah, we’ll meet again, you thought. Your mind softened for a couple of seconds when you felt another set of arms hugging you tight from your side. You had only known them for a couple of weeks, but that was a lot when the world was the way it was. Weeks felt like a lifetime for you, and so it did for the men that had taken you in.

Men, because Duane was far from being a boy. It was sad, he deserved to live the rest of his childhood like you did, or like his father did. He had to, forcefully, become brave, strong, and even cold sometimes.

“We’ll meet again in Atlanta, or somewhere else, I don’t know, but we will.” You said as they let go of you. All you could do after that was forcing yourself to smile reassuringly.

“Now go and help Rick find his family too.”

“You can't leave me here... Not like this. You can't, man. It's not human. Come on, don't do this!”

Merle’s voice was faint as you ran down the stairs with everyone else. Their names were blurry in your head, the adrenaline making you forget about everything but the fact that your life was hanging by a thread.

But Merle, oh, you would never forget his name.

He was the type of person you were afraid to run into, back when you were alone. You were glad Rick was there to put him in his place, even though that hadn’t shut him up. 

Finding other survivors had its downside, you guessed, but not all of it was bad.

They told you that they had a camp, that they had people. The blonde woman’s younger sister was one of them, and they said they had children, too. Maybe it was too good to be true, but since Atlanta was overrun by walkers, then that was the best you had.

Walkers, that’s what they’d named them: because that’s all they did, they were the empty carcasses of what used to be a beautifully complex human being. They just walked, and bit, and killed.

You feared your sister was one of those, roaming around the city. That thought hadn’t left your mind since you first realized how bad things had gotten there. What if she had gone to Atlanta, seeking shelter, but found her death instead? You knew you had to get out of the situation you were in before you made any decisions. The camp didn’t seem like a bad idea, you could stay there temporarily and visit the city a few more times until you found her. Maybe even bring back supplies to thank everyone for letting you stay. That was if you made it, survival was still something new, something you had to train for.

Safety in numbers felt like your best shot. 

You didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings until you got inside the loading dock, your eyes were fixed in what was in front of you. A walker could’ve gotten you from your sides and you wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. You were lucky enough to get to safety.

So was T-Dog, who at last second caught up with you, right before you heard Rick banging on the door.

You sat next to the two women, hugging yourself with your trembling arms. You were agitated and couldn’t catch enough air to say what you knew everyone else wanted to say.

“Hey, T-Dog,” you moaned once you could stabilize your breath, “where’s Merle?” you almost barked the asshole’s name. He looked down to his knees.

“I dropped the damn key,” he growled, angry and ashamed.

“Well, shit.” You whispered, making sure nobody heard. Merle had it coming, that was clear, but T-Dog didn’t have to carry with the guilt of leaving a man to die just because he happened to be… the way he was.

“Best not to dwell on it. Merle got left behind. Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back... except, maybe, Daryl.” One of the men commented. You lifted your head and locked your eyes with his, your heart starting to beat faster once again. If for some reason Merle had someone who cared for him, then they had to love him. That was a difficult man, the one you had met back there… It must've taken a huge amount of patience and devotion to want him around for more than a few hours.

If he actually had someone who cared for him, you were completely fucked.

“Daryl?” you hesitated to ask, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“His brother.”

The scenario was so beautiful it was truly unbelievable. You were stepping out of the dock when Rick’s drowned cry caught your attention. Looking forward, you saw a kid running to hug him, followed by a woman. You quickly figured out Rick had found his family, making your heart flutter. In the shithole you were in, you figured those things were a sight to be seen, something that didn’t happen every day, so you let yourself enjoy the view.

You knew Rick’s son was young, even younger than Duane, but seeing him there made you realize how fragile he was.

Innocent, scared, too little to live through those times. And for a second, you forgot that a few hours before you thought you had no purpose left. Not finding your sister, seeing how one of the biggest cities in the country had fallen… you had started to think that there was no use in trying so hard to survive when you had nobody left.

But there he was, Carl, and there were more kids in the camp. Maybe you could do more than just survive. Trying to help them live their lives with as little worry and concern as possible was better than giving up.

“Why on earth did you leave the apartment?!” A loud, high pitched scream echoed through the camp, and it didn’t take long for you to spot her, running to you.

Her. Mayra. Your sister.

When her body slammed into yours, you fell backward as you hugged her tight, trying not to let her go, as if she could slip away from your arms at any moment. You stayed on the ground trying to take in every detail you could. Her shaky breath, the way her hair felt on your skin, how her fingers were uncomfortably pressed between the ground and your shoulder blades. Her small cries as she tried to find the exact words to say.

“I was looking for you!”, at that point, you were sobbing, not even thinking about the people whose eyes wandered from Rick to you two.

“And I was about to go back home looking for you!” She cried, steadying her breath before standing back up. You followed her actions, your sight never leaving hers.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since it all started. Weeks, for sure. Months, too, although sometimes it felt like decades.

Suddenly, her eyes widened and she scanned her surroundings, fear creeping in her. She put both of her hands on your shoulders and lightly shook her head, still searching for something, you couldn’t guess what.

“Did he die?” She questioned firmly. You didn’t answer, had someone else gone to Atlanta that hadn’t made it? Someone who died before you found the group? She couldn’t be talking about… 

The entire world fell on top of you. You had just discovered your sister was alive and had also just found out you left someone she cared about behind. “Did Merle fucking die?!”

The fire warmed your legs and the frog legs tasted so, so good. You hadn’t eaten anything freshly cooked in such a long time, it felt unreal. You were focused on your food and on Rick’s story, it was the first time you heard him talk in-depth about what had happened. He seemed happy, and the bags under his eyes were more subtle. His entire demeanor had changed.

“They found me…” your sister’s voice interrupted your trail of thoughts. You had a conversation pending; one that the both of you decided to ignore so you could enjoy the feeling of being back together, “... the Dixons, I mean. Merle didn’t want me around, Daryl didn’t either, but he was too kind to let it show. Thank God we found the group, like, a couple of days after I joined them.” Her eyes were lost in the flames as she spoke. She knew it hadn’t been your fault, there was no way you would leave him on purpose. “But I was about to die, Y/N. I felt the walker’s teeth on my skin, it tore the fabric on my shoulder. I just accepted it, didn’t fight back, didn’t try to escape.” She looked at you, and you realized that nothing meant shit anymore… life at that moment was constantly being on the verge of dying and knowing that the people you loved could die at any moment, too. Nothing could ever go back to what it used to be. “And, then, a freaking arrow went through the walker’s head. Clean, just like that, and it fell on top of me. I had never seen death in first person, you know. I had lost my friends after a dozen of those creeps came out of nowhere, but I didn’t see them die, I just heard the screams.”

She was your little sister, you hated to hear her that way, so hopeless and surrendering to death. 

“You’re safe now, these people know how to fight-” you stared, but she stopped you before you could finish.

“I know. But one of the men who saved my ass isn’t safe. Yes, he’s not the kindest, nicest, or most selfless man, but I owe him.” You knew that feeling too well. You owed Morgan and Duane, you owed Rick, and Glenn, and so many people. None of them had behaved the way Merle did, but not only Mayra owed him, you did too.

Nodding, you sighed and looked at her in the eyes, reassuring her you would do something to get him back, anything you could.

“Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?” Shane’s loud demand made you jump slightly. Your sister nudged you on your side with her elbow and signaled you to look at Ed. She had been suspicious about him and you both had talked about it a few hours back

“It’s cold, man.”

“Then join us or put it out, we don’t want to be seen…” you spoke, managing to sound as nice as you could. You didn’t want to start anything, but you knew how dangerous it could get. You had to avoid loud sounds and bright lights. But Ed, as expected, ignored you.

“Yeah, the cold doesn’t change the rules, does it? Keep our fires low, just embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?” Shane continued.

“I said it's cold. You should mind your own business for once.” Ed’s answer has was harsh, you could tell he would be hard to deal with, but not everything could be perfect in such a numerous and diverse group. Everyone had different stories to tell, some of them were more tragic than others.

Shane got up and walked steadfastly towards Ed and his family’s fire, “Hey, Ed... Are you sure you want to have this conversation, man?”

“Go on. Pull the damn thing out. Go on!” Ed bossed and his wife pulled the log out of the fire almost immediately, not questioning his husband’s command. It was sad and frustrating, but knowing that stepping in could cause the wife and the little girl to get hurt forced you to stay in your place. Shane seemed to be handling the situation. He was like some sort of leader in the camp, and he had been around those people for so much longer than you, he knew what to do. At least that’s what you told yourself in an attempt to find comfort.

You saw how Shane spoke to Ed’s wife and their daughter, but you couldn’t hear what he said as the group had started a conversation to fill in the silence.

“Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind.” The man -whose name you learned was Dale- questioned, deciding to talk about the elephant in the room. 

“I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me.” T-Dog’s shameful tone showed up once again.

“I cuffed him. That makes it mine.” Rick followed. It couldn’t turn into a competition of who was brave enough, who was the most selfless, or who was willing to sacrifice themselves.

“We were all there, it’s not a competition, any of us could’ve done something-” You intervened, hoping you could bring into the conversation the fact that you were planning on going back, but Glenn interrupted you:

“I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.” You hated it, but if Daryl was as bigoted as his brother, then Glenn was right.

“I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him.” T-Dog stated, completely convinced of facing the consequences.

“And we keep on making a competition out of this. We all should be there and say whatever we have to say.” You said in a determined tone. You were all responsible, one way or another.

“Look, Y/N… maybe I can tell him?” Mayra whispered as the rest kept on debating who should speak up.

“I don’t know how it could help…” You said back. Yes, Mayra knew him better than you, but she hadn’t been involved, she didn’t have to.

She opened her mouth to protest, but T-Dog’s words captured your interest instantly:

“My point... Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us.”

When the fire was out and everyone got into their tents, including your sister, you still sat on the same log as before. The scenario felt strange, almost unknown to you: outside at night, under the cloudy night sky, and still not unsafe. It had been so long since you felt immortal and undefeatable, just like any other girl your age felt... like nothing could happen to you, not ever. You missed it. But beautiful as that night was, the imminent danger thickened the air.

You felt your eyes growing heavier each second. You were ready to go to sleep, so you got up and started to walk to the tent you and Mayra would share, but the sight of someone on the roof of Dale’s RV made you stop on your tracks.

Shane was keeping watch, and you wondered if he did it each night, or how had they arranged the shifts. He looked tired and the look on his face was anything but friendly.

“Hey, want to switch?” You asked approaching the stairs and climbing up, not waiting for an answer. Once you got off the stairs, your eyes wandered through the trees and landed up in the sky. If he kept watch every night, then you knew why. The view wasn’t mesmerizing, you had seen more beautiful countless times before, but the air up there was lighter, and the breeze, soothing. 

“Sorry ‘bout Ed today.” Shane ignored your question. You sat down next to the chair he was sitting in.

“Don’t be, he’ll pay for what he’s doing to his family someday. Soon, I hope.” You looked up and realized his eyes were lost somewhere in the horizon. He looked tired, and if you read more into it: defeated. “Go to sleep, I’ll stay. I want to.”

It came as a surprise to you: that was all he needed to hear. He didn’t protest, he got up, handed you the shotgun and left. You didn’t know if he would be able to get some sleep, at least he could try to.

But what you did know was that you weren’t suddenly concerned about the sleeping schedule of a man you had just met. You were desperately in need of being alone. Being around so many people was something you had only dreamt about, at least for the last weeks, and although you felt the luckiest you had ever felt, the safety you had found allowed you to put your feet back on the ground.

Everything had happened so fast. You almost died, and more than once. You met people, they saved you, you left one of them to die, you found out Mayra was alive and safe, Rick’s family was with her… and you still had to figure out how to break the news to Merle’s brother. 

You were going back to the city, too, as if everything that had happened wasn’t enough. You’d do it for your sister, and for the men who saved her, as questionable as they were.

And suddenly, it clicked.

The bag. The guns.

You had to remind Rick. It could save the group from an attack from walkers, or from other people. That way you knew somebody else would go back with you and you would actually have a shot of coming back alive, even if they despised Merle.

“Merle! Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! I got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up.”

You had just finished hanging some of your clothes to dry when an unbothered and loud voice caught everyone’s attention. From their wide eyes, you could tell who had just gotten back. Merle’s brother, Daryl, sounded, moved, and acted just like him. It wasn’t just the accent, but his words, how his presence made everyone uncomfortable… you could tell they were expecting him to snap as soon as he found out. Behind him, Shane and Rick looked and nodded to each other. You approached them, determined to be a part of it even if hell broke loose.

“Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there.” Rick got to the point with no rambling.

“We locked the door, he’s safe from walkers.” You dared to look at him in the eyes, but regretting it as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Hold on. Let me process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?!”

“Yeah.” Rick stepped in front of you, and without skipping a beat, Daryl attacked Rick, who shoved him off. 

You took a few steps back and spotted your sister, who was just getting out of the RV. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open as soon as she realized what was happening: Daryl, Shane, T-Dog and Rick were yelling at each other. She stood in her place, everyone in the camp knew well not to intervene. Shane had Daryl on a chokehold as Rick explained to him that he wanted to have a calm discussion, which seemed to force Daryl to give in. Shane let go of him.

“What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others.” Rick kept going. At that point, you guessed nothing could actually calm Dixon, he was still breathing heavily.

“It's not Rick's fault. I had the key. I dropped it.” T-Dog cut in.

“You couldn't pick it up?” Daryl snarled.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”

“If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't.” 

“Hey, I told you, the door’s chained with a padlock. There’s no way walkers could get to him.” You repeated, trying your best to be concise and get to the point: Merle was still out there. 

“And who the fuck are you?” Daryl took a few steps forward and stared at you in the eyes. You weren’t scared, but it did take you by surprise. You stumbled back and raised your hands, putting them in between you.

“She’s my sister, Daryl!” Mayra’s shaky voice made him turn around. You couldn’t see his face, but hers was filled with heartbreak. She felt she had failed him, as if she had broken an unspoken promise. Daryl faced you again.

“Funny, huh? How I saved your sister but you left my brother to rot.” He growled. His voice low and irritated.

Your eyes jumped from Mayra to him. You straightened your body and took a deep breath. He was right. You felt miserable, and you couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Mayra, you knew you would have to do something as soon as she told you her story.

“I know, that’s why I’m going back there. With or without you.”