#AND I HAD TO REMIND HER THAT WE HAVE DEATH TIMERS THAT ARE LIKE HALF A FUCKING MINUTE LONG.

[chisungie]

.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 1: I Always Need You

Chapter Word Count: 2,303

Anything in Bold Italics are Korean/Another language.

Master List | Next

For over a millennia, everyone received a Soulmate Mark on their eighteenth birthday. Each mark was different, unique, and overall a personal reminder of the fate many wished to find. 

In school, children were taught of the most common Soulmate Marks; timers until meeting, first words written on the skin, and sharing emotions. Some extended further and ranged in intensity; varying color blindness, being able to draw on your skin and it shows on the other’s body, some even being able to feel the pain of others. There were many cases where a pair would have two forms of a Soulmate Mark. On the other side, when soulmates finally meet and the bond connects, the pair need their soulmate to continue to live. Being away from each other for long leads to loss of appetite, sickness, and – at worst – death. 

Growing up, you were a strong believer in what a soulmate signified. Someone who you were going to spend the rest of your life with, your better half, someone who was destined for you. However, your interest in meeting your soulmate and living your life with that person became questionable with some of the matches fate seemed to make. Your parents were no different. 

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday in 2015, you reluctantly had been dragged to your best friend’s house with a group of your small, close knit group. You were the third to turn 18, which was going to make this event a tradition until the youngest of the group in November. 

“This is stupid. You guys know I’m not into soulmate stuff anymore.” You said, watching your second Soulmate movie of the night, curled under a blanket between Jay, your best friend, and Nilah. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Jay lift her head from your shoulder and turn herself to you. Jay was a hopeless romantic, her parents were a perfect match along with her grandparents, aunts, and uncles. She was the second to receive her mark, total color blindness, and while that in itself was something devastating without a soulmark, she was crying tears of joy. 

Sitting on the other couch in Jay’s basement, Taylor and Amelia perked up to listen to the conversation. 

“Oh come on, just because your parents fall under the, like, 10 percent of soulmates that don’t work out, doesn’t mean that will be happy with you.” Jay defended, squaring her shoulders to face you properly. “Plus, you can get your soul-mark and if you don’t have a countdown, then you can just avoid people like the plague if you want! But at least give it a chance.” 

Staring at each other with equally annoyed expressions, you know deep down some part of you wanted to know… But you had a hard time admitting that out loud. 

The movie played in the background, keeping the room filled with sound despite the silent standoff the two of you were in. 

Taylor cleared their throat and spoke up. “Listen, why don’t we just hang out, play some weird meme videos on Youtube, and just not pressure Y/N so much with the soulmate thing. When midnight hits, we don’t make that big of a deal with it. Deal?” 

Glancing over to Taylor, both you and Jay just nod. Amelia took it upon herself to turn the movie off and changed the app to YouTube. Briefly her and Taylor discussed the video to put on. On the other side of you, Nilah curled closer to you; she had always been more of a quiet comforter rather than an outspoken or confrontational. Back three months ago, she had been the first to get her soulmark, simply feeling each other's emotions. She was one of the people you leaned on besides Jay when your parents fell out, she was your shoulder to cry on when the latter wasn’t available. 

For the next hour, you flipped from video to video, discussing and laughing every so often. Despite the little argument, Jay had settled back beside you, squishing you between her and Nilah. Between the calm, the quiet ring of a phone alarm went off, marking the time of five minutes to midnight. 

Taking a deep breath, you removed yourself from the human sandwich and dropped to the floor, sitting criss-cross as you stripped off your sweatshirt, leaving you in a pair of shorts and a tank top. The others took no time to gather up to form a circle with you to watch if any physical marks show.

“Alright, if you start to feel different emotions than what you are feeling now, pain you know you aren’t in, or any other changes, let us know, we’ll look for any physical stuff.” Nilah said softly, taking your hand gently to give a sense of comfort.

Nodding, you felt the anxiety bubble up in your stomach to your chest. Your heart rate became elevated and subtle nausea started to set in. Some part of you was trying to push down the fear that came from thinking of meeting your soulmate based on your experience watching your mother and father crumble. You told yourself you were going to be okay, that however the person was, they would be a good person, someone who would hopefully love you, care for you, and most importantly, wouldn’t intentionally hurt you with the soulmate bond. 

With idle chatter to fill the void of waiting, you evened out your breathing the best you could, trying to focus on the good aspects of the whole situation. No matter what, you were always going to be surrounded by your friends who supported you and wanted nothing more than your happiness. 

“It’s midnight!” Jay squeaked out, eyes focusing on your skin for any change.  

Then you felt it. Your breath caught in your throat and the feeling of a headache was slowly creeping around your head to put pressure behind your eyes. Your body felt sore, especially your feet, however that was more overshadowed by the headache-turned-migraine. That had made you nauseous all over again. Keeping your eyes open despite the pain, you looked from your feet, up your legs, then to your forearms to your wrists. There it stood strikingly against the skin of your wrist; a countdown timer, the seconds counting down with every passing moment. 

The anxiety you once felt was quickly washed away by a feeling of exhaustion but was accompanied by a sense of contentment. It settled heavy in your chest, calming you, even lulling you some to sleep if you would let it. 

“They’re awake at least,” You begin, “and have a massive headache, but they feel, god how do you explain it, content and tired? Accomplished? I can’t pinpoint it…” 

“7 years, 1 month, 17 days, and counting down..” Taylor mumbled, pulling out their phone to look up the date. “September 6, 2022. God, that's a long time from now.” 

“I mean, hey, that’s after college! Maybe you’ll meet a business guy or something.” 

With the headache continuing on, you all agree to discuss more another time, needing some time to process and rest away from the pounding behind your eyes. 

It was mid-day when the sudden rush of emotions hit him; uneasiness and worry. Sitting in the mostly quiet studio after a long but successful dance practice, he held back the urge to throw up in the trash can beside his desk. 

“ Oh god- ” He muttered out, only for the producer beside him to take notice of the shift in the other’s position. 

“ Ya, Woozi, are you okay? ” The other asked, rolling his chair closer to check up on the boy. 

Jihoon’s face contorted, running a hand through his hair and breathing in deep to hopefully subside the uncomfortable nausea. The headache he was already dealing with wasn’t helping the current situation at hand. He waved his hand as a way to motion that he was okay, but he stayed pretty still in case the nausea got worse. Thankfully, the feeling passed though he frowned. That wasn’t his own feelings.

Eyes growing wide, his head whipped up to meet the eyes of Bumzu, blinking a few times before another feeling flooded his senses; calm and fatigue. 

“ Jihoon-ah, really, are you okay? You look like a deer in headlights. ” Bumzu asks again, his concern more prominent on his features the more the other’s silence dragged on. 

“ Hyung…It’s more than just a countdown.” 

For the rest of the afternoon, the shared emotional bond was quiet on his end. On his own wrist rested the same countdown you had, time slowly ticking away. At one point he had zoned out of composing and simply stared at the numbers. 

Soulmates were something many people wanted, he knew that. He also knew that soulmates meant giving up some part of yourself to be attached to another person when the bond between the pair settled after meeting. His parents were a perfect match but like every couple, they have disagreements. No one was perfect, which is what he told himself, and he also knew that finding your soulmate is an amazing experience despite the slight drawbacks. Based on math alone, he would be nearly twenty-six by the time he was to meet the other half to his pair. 

Moving in a daze, Jihoon made his trek back to the dorm. With only a few months into debut, life was already hectic and unpredictable. Even the brotherhood him and his members had created predebut to now, there was a bit of a nervous tension that surrounded them. Most of the members like himself have received their Soulmarks, all that was the last of the ‘97 line – Minghao –  and maknae line. With all thirteen of them shoved into a single dorm together, they usually sat together on the night before the member’s eighteenth birthday and hung around until something happened. Jokes were always thrown around, they usually ordered a decent amount of food despite the current low earnings. 

Entering the dorm was similar to entering into a war zone. Shows were piled messily in the entryway, clothes were thrown haphazardly across the floors, and headache inducing noise flowed through the halls and rooms. Tonight was no different. Somewhere in the dorm he heard bantering and arguing, there was a voice singing – one he pinpointed to be Seungkwan –, and the miscellaneous sound of normal life living. 

“ I’m home. ” He called out, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face. 

A chorus of voices greeted him as he entered the living room, finding Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, and Dino sitting in the living room playing a card game together.  

“ Oh hyung, welcome home. ” Dino greeted warmly with a smile on his face. Beside him, Jeonghan attempted to lean over and spy on the cards in his hand. The former whined and slapped his cards to his chest while Joshua and Jeonghan laughed between themselves. 

Jihoon hummed in acknowledgement, dropping his backpack and took up the space on the floor between Joshua and Seungcheol. For the rest of the game, Jihoon simply watched in quiet contemplation, the words of his chosen brothers sounding rather distant and incomplete. 

“ ...Zi-...Jihoonie? ” Seungcheol placed his hand over the smaller man’s shoulder, breaking him from his train of thought. “ Are you okay? You look out of it. ” 

Suddenly, there were four sets of eyes on him, looks of concern mixed with curiosity. He shifted his gaze between each of them in quick succession before they landed at the table between them. 

“ After practice, I was in the studio with Bumzu-hyung. We were in the middle of working on a new track and I felt…I think I felt what my soulmate was feeling because it wasn’t my own. ” He began, clearing his throat to speak up a little more. “ It felt like a punch to my gut and I haven’t felt anything since then. ” 

On his shoulder, he felt the hand there squeeze and the voice to follow sounded collected and calm. “ Okay, that was probably a lot to take in. ” Seungcheol kept his hand firm on Jihoon’s shoulder, grounding him. “ Maybe, your soulmate is asleep, for all you know they are in another timezone, another country, and you will feel things once they are awake. You have two forms of soulmark though, so things might throw you off until you get used to it. ” 

The rational side of Jihoon knew he was right, on the other side of him Joshua placed a hand on his leg and gave it a simple pat to reassure him along with their leader. On the irrational side – which was being yelled at by the other side seeing he still had a countdown on his wrist –, Jihoon held this tiny feeling of apprehension. 

“ Maybe they are some hot shot that will knock you on your ass in seven years. ” Jeonghan chimes in, a shit eating grin plastered on his features. “ Or some big music producer one day. Who knows, maybe they’ll give you a run for your money. ” 

“ Hey, sorry to interrupt but I think Hoshi and Seungkwan are about to kill each other over whose clothes are whose in their room. ” Walking nonchalantly into the living room, Wonwoo’s typical deadpan expression was met with Seungcheol’s exasperated but annoyed one. 

“ And here I wanted to have an easy night where we can also relax but no, I have two of the trio at each other’s neck. Again. ” Removing his hand from Jihoon’s shoulder, the leader stood, stretching his limbs some before following Wonwoo out of the room. “ Yah, can’t we have one evening without fighting!?” 

[rubydubydoo122]

What's a song that reminds you of Jason, Bruce, Dick and Damian?

For Damian, definitely "Love Like You" From Steven Universe, especially the line "I always thought I might be bad now I'm sure that it's true, cus, I think you're so good, and I'm nothing like you"

for Dick, I would say "Look After You" By the Fray, specifically to his siblings and specifically the line "What's mine is yours to leave or take, what's mine is yours to make your own" also, "Seven" by Taylor Swift, Idk, I just feel like that song would remind him of his time in the circus.

For Bruce "Fine Line" by Harry Styles. I have a whole Band AU planned out Just so that for the final song, Bruce sings this to all the kids.

and for Jason.... Wooo doggie, I hAve A LOt. I'll just give you the main ones

"Would've Could've Should've" by Taylor Swift. I could copy paste the entire song in here and It would be like pulling a page out of Jason's Diary. Same with "Right Where You Left Me" "My Tear Ricochet" "THE GREAT WAR" and I could go on and on and on "Haunted" "Back to December" "Nothing New" "Mr. Perfectly Fine" Is Taylor Swift Jason Todd?

Then there's "The Grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo "I have nightmares each week about that friday in may" "Trust that you betrayed confusion that still lingers, took everything I loved and crushed it in betweeen your fingers" and "and I know in my heart, hurt people, hurt people, and We both drew blood but man those cuts were never equal"

SO MANY CONAN GRAY SONGS. "Winner" ("my heart that once was beating, bleeding the palm of your hand. yet you have the nerve to miss me how do I somehow feel guilty, WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LET IT GET THIS BAD; you don't really wanna hear the truth, do you? it's obvious to anyone who ever knew you. That all you ever wanted was to fight. I was only trying to survive your chaos") "Astronomy" "FAMILY LINE" "Memories" "jigsaw" "THE EXIT" ("Feels like, we had matching wounds but mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine. Feel like WE BURRIED ALIVE something that NEVER DIED so god it HURT when I FOUND OUT. You love her, it's over, do you even doubt it on your lips. You love her. It's over. You already found someone to miss while I'm still standing at the exit." Maturing is realizing it's the second half of the chorus that's more important to Jason Todd's character than the first)

Afraid by the Neighborhood, but this could really go for any of the Batboys

I KNOW THE END by Phoebe Bridgers. I just feel like if there was ever a show depicting Jason's run as Robin, and that song played as he was getting beat up by the joker and the Bridge hit as the timer was counting down, I would ABSOLUTELY LOSE IT. IF THAT HAPPENS I WOULD HAVE TO BE SENT TO ARKHAM HOLY SHIT EVERY TIME I HEAR THAT SONG I THINK OF JASON"S DEATH

anywho, thanks for coming to my ted talk

[thatwaywardwolf]

Well, it's been quite a while, hasn't it? 2022 is trickling to an end soon, thankfully, and a lot has happened.

First, I'm still here. I haven't gone anywhere and I'm surprised that I'm still getting foot traffic here. It's sparse, but it's there. So, for all the new comers, welcome. For all the old timers, thank you for still sticking around. I haven't posted much at all this year and I'm not sure when I'll make it a thing to post regularly again in spite of my earlier comments that I'd put in a bigger effort.

This year has been monumentally rough and because of that, I've taken a big gap with my practice and I can't really remember the last time I've engaged much with it. I actually made my first offering in what I think has been a few months just half an hour ago. It feels nice, especially with the rain. It's something I would like to do more often, but having a new cat has made it hard since she's taken a serious liking to the altar and we have to keep her from climbing on it - which has been stressful on my end.

I'm doing my best to get by, which I guess is all that matters and I know this is something that we as a community talk about a fair amount when it comes to spiritual burnout and the importance of making your needs a priority. The Gods aren't going anywhere anytime soon, so take time to focus on your own healing - they understand.

I feel like with where I'm at, I feel my relationship with the Gods has matured enough to a point where we can exchange glances from across the room and it be enough. The whole "Hey, I see you and we're good" thing, which feels more natural with Thor to me than anything else. I'm listening to a general devotional playlist I made again for the first time in months and it feels nostalgic in a way, like the warmth of a nice cup of coffee and a knit sweater. It's also a bit strange because songs that remind me of them (especially Thor) has been spread out more.

I mentioned it months ago with how sometimes, I'll look at a certain friend and somehow, I think about the gods; like how her mischievousness is the delight of Loki, her passion for art and music would make Odin and Bragi proud, her protective and loyal golden retriever energy is so much like what I've found in Thor, how fiercely badass she is and loves others (including her own healing) feels like Freyja, her love of life and compassion with death feels like the presence of Hel, and so on. That whole thing.

So now, if I hear a certain song that I connected to Thor over, I'm also reminded of her and how important she is to me. It's indescribable to be able to have that level of a connection to someone or something, and how it feels like overtime it's just aged like a great wine - and it's going to continue doing that. I hope that, if I'm able to, I can bridge those old connections again with the gift giving cycle and do more to get out in nature. I haven't gone on a long walk in a while and getting lost in the woods by our creek sounds nice now.

All that aside, this year has been full of change and stress: some of it good, some of it bad. It's been a tedious and intense process with doing all kinds of processing and recovery, and I don't think I'd be where I am now without her and my good friends to help me keep my head above the water. I'm still struggling, but they've been so patient, kind, and affirming with me - even if things like paranoia tell me they aren't, and they've said they notice an improvement in me that I'm learning more and getting better. It's basically been a lot with trauma recovery, getting diagnosed with PTSD, (likely) fibro, and I should be getting a call back this week regarding getting tested for ADHD.

Yeah, 2022 has been a lot. It's had so good though, quite a bit, actually. I've worked on more art this year alone than I have any other, I've made so many friends and built up a found family, I, of course have a new cat, and I'm hoping to have my top surgery consultation next year after struggling with coverage and paperwork problems for two years.

But, I'll leave things at that for now. I hope that everyone stays safe the rest of the year and if things haven't been going well, that the next two months treat you well. For those that celebrate it, have a great and safe Halloween, Día de los Muertos, and Samhain with those you love - even if they've departed. Just in case I don't get to say it in December, have a meaningful winter / summer solstice wherever you are. May 2023 treat you kinder than this year has.

Until next time,

Adam.

[pricklynoodle]

real or not real

Itadori Yuji/Fushiguro Megumi pairing | Squid Game AU | Rated T | warning: implied character death | ANGST

( yes, writing instead of doing school lol, squid game ruined me so if you want to read this then be warned of SQUID GAME SPOILERS. There's no graphic death, but its sad as hell either way TT)

---

“The player who takes all ten marbles from your partner wins.”

Megumi had always kept to himself, never saying anything unless spoken to, never stuck to groups, and never took the choice to attach himself to something. Everything had an expiration date. Unnecessary things like friendships had never appealed to him. He only needed his sister, and it wasn’t like she had the choice to have him as her brother. But the fact that she still stuck around caring for him until she worked herself to a coma.

So honestly, it’s a surprise why he feels his heart drop when the announcement tells him he has to go against … whatever 310 is to him.

He hardly knows 310, and doesn't know anything about his life actually. Other than that he’s crazy strong, has an impressive pain tolerance, but also the loudest kid he’s ever met. He's always around him, sticking to Megumi like a persistent piece of gum stuck to his shoe. But he doesn't dislike him, but he can't say he's thrilled with him either.

But would Megumi kill him?

Stupid, he tells himself.

“Oh, fuck, I honestly didn’t see that coming,” 310 says with a grimace, looking at Megumi guiltily as if he was the cause of Megumi’s inner turmoil. He sits down on one of the stone benches. The whole setup was supposed to mimic a typical neighborhood, something Megumi wasn’t fortunate enough to grow up in. The bastards even made the effort to add in the sounds of cicadas from the fake trees, as if this was a completely normal summer for a couple of teens.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, he feels dizzy. He drops down to the bench, away from 310 as possible.

“I’ve always wanted to say this,” 310 says as he rests his elbows on his knees, looking at Megumi seriously, “This whole thing reminds me of Hunger Games.”

Megumi looks at him with furrowed brows.

“You know, Jennifer Lawrence?” 310 pushes. Megumi says nothing. “...Tall girl, big ass? The one with the arrows?”

“Can you shut the fuck up,” Megumi deadpans, then he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He counts to ten, then glances down at his hand. 10 marbles. “Just tell me how to play this game.”

“I don’t know either,” 310 admits, sounding sheepish. He shrugs carelessly, “This is more of the games my gramps used to play, but he was too busy being sick to teach me though.”

Megumi looks up at 310. He looks tired, but nostalgic. Like he was thinking of a good memory.

310 perks up, grinning at Megumi brightly, “though they said that we can make our own rules. I’ll think of something.”

Megumi nods solemnly. The silence stretches until 310 lets out an ‘aha!’.

“Let’s bet everything and just play one around,” 310 says, even dropping his fist down onto his hand as if it were the best idea ever.

Megumi freezes, staring at 310, was he going to trick him? He doesn’t even know him. They’re not friends. Of course, everything still is a death tournament at the end of the day.

310 seems to pick up Megumi’s reluctance, he jerks his head to the side. He points towards the pair of men competing against each other, looking frantic and panicked.Their faces are sheened with sweat, t-shirts drenched in sweat. It’s… it’s a pathetic sight.

“Fine,” Megumi relents. “What are we playing?”

“Calm down,” 310 chuckles, “are you that excited to kill me?”

Megumi stays quiet.

“We have a lot of time left,” 310 says breezily, pointing towards the timer mounted on the wall. “Let’s do it at the last minute.”

“What do you suggest we do till then?” Megumi asks with a scowl. “Sit nice and pretty, twiddle our thumbs and shove these marbles up our asses?”

“Jesus, man,” 310 laughs, “no just… talk.”

“Talk,” Megumi repeats.

“Talk,” 310 smiles, looking down at his hands. Megumi looks at them too. He remembers the hard calluses on them, when they shook hands. They’re thick and sturdy, and hold a lot of power. He really could have killed Megumi before, just wrap his hands around his neck and it’s all over.

Megumi also shakes away the filthy thoughts of what else those hands could do. Get a grip, Fushiguro.

“Things we couldn’t tell other people,” 310 says, smiling wistfully. “One of us is going to die here anyways.”

Megumi swallows the lump in his throat.

310 smiles wider. He’s always smiling, Megumi notes.

“There’s no reason to feel embarrassed if that’s the case,” 310 tells him, “I promise I won’t laugh when you blush like a tomato.”

“I don’t,” Megumi denies, but he can feel the heat already rising up to his cheeks.

“You do,” 310 says, “but I think it’s cute.”

Cute.

“So, uh, you have someone back home then?” 310 asks.

“Yeah,” Megumi says.

“...like a girlfriend or something?”

“Sister,” Megumi says quickly, “no...never a girlfriend. Impossible for me.”

“Ah, okay,” 310 says, nodding. “Just your sister?”

“I had a dad, but he … never came back.” Megumi confesses, “he was a shitty dad. He was never really home, but he gave us shelter and food. He had a bad temper, but he never hit us. He never liked to be around me especially. I … used to think he hated me.”

“What changed?” 310 asked.

“I… I became him. I understand why he did what he did,” Megumi says, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. “Doing dirty jobs, stealing, never at home. Hiding from danger. Hiding us from danger. Protection.”

310 nodded, he slid closer to Megumi. Thighs brushing. Silence continues.

“He came here,” Megumi says, looking up at the ceiling. It’s painted a pink-orange gradient, like a sunset. “I found half of that business card in one of his jackets. The last two digits were cut off. I dialed every possible number until I got here.”

“For what?” 310 asks.

“Find him,” Megumi says, “punch him. I would have killed him, I think, if I found out that he left us to rot. Then steal all his money to pay for my sister’s medical bills.”

“Oh, she’s sick?”

“Coma,” Megumi clarifies. “Some rich bastard from work hit her on her way home. He got off easy because of money.”

“I see,” 310 says, clenching his fists. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” Megumi says gruffly.

“You’re still getting money though,” 310 says. He doesn’t say but you don’t get your dad back. “What would you do with it?”

Megumi doesn’t even hesitate, “pay for my sister’s medical bills. Buy a nice house for us to live in. A car, if I can.”

“If you can?” 310 says, “where would you drive your car?”

“school,” Megumi says simply. “I would use my car to drive to school.”

310 blinks. “You know, you can do much more with that 40 billion. You really don’t want anything else? Don’t have a destination?”

“I’d go to Sendai.”

“Wh—Sendai? I’m from Sendai. Are you kidding me? Are you going to drive there with a shiny new Toyota Yaris?”

Megumi blushes furiously, “enough about me, ugh, it’s your turn anyways.”

310 shakes his head, but he’s giggling like a schoolgirl. “You really have to think bigger. Have you ever been to the beach?”

“No,” Megumi says.

“You should, one that’s got nice soft sand and blue water. With palm trees too. And you should get piña coladas.”

“What?”

“C’mon man, you don’t get to be frugal with 40 billion. I’ll teach you how to splurge once we get out—”

Ah.

“Right,” 310 breathes out, laughing to himself all silly. “Only one of us leaves.”

Megumi grunts.

Silence.

“...Ever seen a dead body?” 310 asks.

“...I’ve been answering all these questions. You haven’t answered at all,” Megumi points out, feeling far too exposed for running his mouth.

“Ah you’re right! Uh, I don’t have anyone.”

“But your grandfather—”

“He’s dead. For a while now. My mom and dad. Also dead. My brother is on the run. He’s, uh, killed a lot of people. He got the death penalty, so yeah, haven’t really seen him around.”

Megumi looks at him.

“I don’t think he counts,” 310 says, scratching his face. Megumi realizes the scars on his face aren’t from the previous games. They looked healed, puckered and faded from time.“He looks a lot like me, though. A lot of people can’t tell us apart. He hated that. He’s only a bit taller than me, and he loves to brag about it. He has a huge ego.”

“I see.”

“Yeah,” 310 says, but he doesn’t look awkward about it. Just mildly inconvenienced. “Oh, have we really been talking for that long?”

Megumi looks at the time. They have less than 2 minutes.

310 stands up, swiping the dirt off his pants. He pats around for his marbles. “Okay, so you see that wall over there?”

Megumi nods mutely. It’s quite far, maybe around 2 meters.

“Okay, we throw one marble, and the one closest to the wall wins, okay?”

“Okay.” Megumi nods, easy enough.

“Okay, you go first.”

Megumi scowls.

“added rule, we do it together,” he says, jaw clenched.

“Eh?” 310 looks at him, confused.

“I’ve been doing things first, so it seems rather fair if we do it at the same time, with our best effort, okay? I have the blue marble, you get the red one.”

“... okay.”

“Don’t give me a weak ass toss, alright, that doesn’t count,” Megumi says gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him. “Do your best.”

310 nods, giving him a thumbs up. “Okay!”

“On three,” Megumi says.

“Okay!”

“Three.”

“Two,” 310 continues, positioning his arm.

“One,” Megumi does the same.

They both throw their marbles. Megumi’s heart leaps out of its chest as he watches his marble in the air.

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

Megumi looks down on the marble that lands right next to his shoe.

It’s red.

“Ahh, shoot, I threw it too hard,” 310 says with a pout.

Megumi sees red.

He shoves 310 against the wall. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Whoa! No, you won f-fair and square, man,” 310 stutters. “I did my best shot, like you said!”

“Any idiot would know that shit would bounce right back if you threw it like that!”

310 laughs, “I must be some one of a kind idiot, then.”

Megumi shoves him further into the wall. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You can’t kill me if I’m gonna be dead anyways.”

“THEN I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU DIE.”

“See, that doesn’t really make sense—”

“Shut the fuck up! Why did you do that?!”

310 slumps against the wall, body lax. Not looking at him.

“Answer me!”

“You… you have a lot more to live for than me,” 310 says quietly. He looks up at Megumi, tears in his eyes, “what kind of asshole would I be to deny you for a life?”

“You have a life!” Megumi snaps.

“I don’t, not anymore,” 310 sobs, a wobbly smile on his face. “Before my grandfather died, he told me that I should help others. That when it was my time to go, I would die surrounded by others and not end up like him.

“I should use my strength to help others, that’s what I’ve been doing here. Out there, no one wants me to help them. No one wants the face of a killer to help them. No one wants me to be around them. I can’t go to places, I’ve… I’ve always hated what Sukuna did to me. Made me carry his sins, his crimes. The way people looked at me as if I was him. I can’t move forward, not like you.

“I… I never went to school either, y’know. Or I never graduated. When Sukuna became a wanted man, I became a target. I stayed in my room. The doors were locked. The curtains were always down. It was like this for years. I received no support. The only way I could get by was doing interviews with journalists, feeding the narrative. Making people hate Sukuna more, making them hate me more. That’s no way to live.”

Megumi felt the back of his eyes burn, his teeth aching from being clenched too tight.

“Even if...I had the money. I can’t erase what my brother did. I can’t erase my existence in the world. I would just keep doing the same thing everyday. I don’t… I don’t want a bigger house, not when it’s just me who lives there.”

“You and I are not so different,” he says, looking up at Megumi.. “I think that’s why… I want you to win. You get to experience all these normal things, and feel… happy. You have a chance.”

Megumi wipes his eyes harshly, “Shit.”

“That’s true.”

“... What’s your name?” Megumi asks.

“Itadori Yuji,” 310—no, Yuji says. “My name is Itadori Yuji.”

Megumi takes a shaky breath, he raises his hand for him. “Fushiguro Megumi.”

Yuji grins, he clasps his hand onto Megumi’s. “That means blessing, right?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“I’m glad then, Megumi. That I’m friends with you even through this hell. That itself is a blessing in a disguise.”

“Shut up,” Megumi punches his shoulder.

A guard suddenly arrives, carrying a gun in his hand. Waiting.

Yuji looks behind Megumi’s head. “Ah, I wish we had more time.”

Megumi bites his lip. “I wish I’d… met you sooner. I don't know anything about you.”

Yuji jaw drops, “Okay, I’ll … summarize this in ten seconds! I’m twenty-years-old, my favorite color is green, my favorite manga is Bleach, my type is tall people with big butts! Uhh, I really like watching action films—”

“Not … whatever, nevermind,” Megumi says softly as he listens to Yuji ramble on about himself.

Yuji pauses from his ramble looking winded, “uhm, Fushiguro, can I hug you?”

Megumi freezes.

“I just haven’t had a hug in a long time—” Yuji trails off before he gets cut off with Fushiguro hugging him desperately, clinging to him.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

“...Hey, Fushiguro Megumi, live a long life, okay?”

Megumi lets go.

He turns around.

Eyes burning as he stares unblinking down the path. Footsteps. Silence. Breathing. He feels something salty on his lips when he licks them. It's not sweat.

He... he got attached. He stares forward, he doesn't regret it. Not at all. He got to know Yuji Itadori, the real him, and the pain in his heart is the best he can give back. A reminder that he was more than what people saw him. Yuji Itadori didn't deserve what the world gave him, they did not deserve his cries. The fact that... no one would shed a tear for him.

...Ah.

Megumi notices the dark wet spots on the dirt.

“Thanks for playing with me.”

[kingofkingdom-archive]

Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra. 

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died. 

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less. 

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

-

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it. 

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least. 

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right. 

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder. 

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down. 

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled. 

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles. 

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. 

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

-

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling. 

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around. 

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together. 

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

-

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate. 

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

-

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly. 

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment. 

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

-

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself. 

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another. 

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

-

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school. 

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way. 

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?” 

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how. 

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center. 

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you." 

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication. 

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

-

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her. 

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation. 

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

[honeypirate]

Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

[ilikefandom]

Altering Reality

”Request: How about a fic where Voldemort wins and Y/N and Sev go back to fix things but she has to keep reminding him that its not the original timeline? Make it fluffy <3

Requested by: Anon

Synopsis: (Y/n) and Sev go back in time, but all they needed was a litte perspective.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem reader

Warnings: Small discription of blood

Voldemort had said it himself, Harry Potter was dead, he had won and they had lost. (Y/n) tugged Severus through the hallways of the castle. Their flight bringing them past the empty classrooms and exploded hallways. 

“We have to do something.” (Y/n) Snape said, facing her husband and clutching at his hands.

“What can we do?” Severus asked, taking his wife in his arms. “Unless we can go back and change something, the Potter boy will still die.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened and she dug around in her pockets. When she had finished searching she lifted a gold chain out of her bag. Attached to it was a small device with a sand timer in the middle.

“How on earth did you get a time turner?” Severus looked at his partner with a wicked grin on his face.

“I received it from a dear friend at the Ministry. This is the only way that we can change things, we can go back and try again.” (Y/n) was basically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked at Severus. 

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Severus asked as (Y/n) pulled her time turner over the both of them.

“Yes.” (Y/n) answered as she began to twist the time turner back six hours. “If we are correct in our assumptions, what you have to do is give Harry Potter some sort of clue on how to open the snitch. Give him something that could be of use. And make sure you lure Voldemort away from the castle.”

The scenery blurred and meshed as the couple made their way back in time. Arriving just as Voldemort sent his first message to the death eaters. 

“Showtime.” (Y/n) smiled, pecking Severus on the cheek then dragging him down the hallway where they ran seconds ago, that is six hours in the future.

“Goodbye my love.” Severus said, pressing a kiss to (Y/n)’s forehead. 

(Y/n) darted down the stairs to the dungeons to find the compartment. She retrieved Severus’ anti-venom for Nagini, his book of spells and an amulet that she had made herself. This amulet had the power to tether a person’s soul to their body while the body healed itself. Quite like life support did in Muggle hospitals.

Severus, on the other hand, made his way to the boathouse, unaware of what he should do if he met the Dark Lord. He gripped the tethering amulet that (Y/n) had made and took a deep breath before crossing paths with his dark master and stalking alongside him to the place where he believed would be a place where he would die.

(Y/n)’s amulets were important and powerful. Being born with a half magic system in her body, (Y/n) could only use wand magic on certain occasions. Instead of being angry and bitter that their daughter had hardly any magic, (Y/n) had been sent to a special wizarding school in Egypt to become a sau, or a maker of magical charms. Her magic was infused into different pieces of stone, then carved into shapes and symbols to give her magic meaning.

(Y/n) moved seamlessly through the students catching a glimpse of the Golden Trio as they made their way to the boat house, seeing Severus joining Voldemort on the path, following the students down the path, (Y/n) ran her fingers over her teleportation amulet. How she wished that she could pull her husband to her, for this plan to work, she needed him to lure the Dark Lord into a false sense of victory.

Arriving just in time for Voldemort to order Nagini to attack (Y/n) watched as her husband lost blood from his neck, setting down the amulet, she pulled out the anti-venom and her enchanted artifacts.

As the trio fled the small house, clutching memories in hand (Y/n) drew a protective circle around herself and Sev’s barely alive body. Ignoring the blood and venom seeping from Severus’ neck (Y/n) said the activation spell and connected the amulet to Snape’s soul. She poured the anti-venom and healing potions alternately over Sev’s skin until the wound itself was mostly healed, a small cut that was not only survivable but very likely not to scar.

Releasing the amulet from Severus’ soul, he inhaled a deep breath. “(Y/n) my love?”

“I’m right here Severus.”

The couple stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Letting out shaky laughter (Y/n) pulled Severus to his feet. The couple wrapped themselves in each other’s embrace and swayed slightly as the morning breeze blew into the boathouse. 

Making their way back to the school, the Snapes fell from their elation into silence as they snuck back into the crowd waiting outside of the school. Voldemort once again said that Potter was dead and (Y/n)’s breath hitched, all of her muscles collapsing in on themselves. Until silence filled the courtyard.

Neville Longbottom had stepped forward, raising the Gryffindor sword and all chaos broke loose. Harry Potter stood up, grabbed his wand and ran toward Voldemort. All of the defenders of Hogwarts raised their wands and the death eaters charged the castle. 

Grabbing his wife, Severus disapperated to the top of the astronomy tower, as he held her gently, the sounds of explosions rocked the building. 

Screams from the front court yard made Severus let out a shocked whimpering sound. (Y/n) who had regained her bodily functions made her way up to the windows. Then she turned and tackled Snape with a hug. “He did it. Harry Potter has done it.”

Severus' fear trickled away and he held his love closer than before. “He sure did my dear one. Harry Potter is, once again, the boy who lived.”

Author’s note: It’s a bit shorter than usual, but I hope you like it. Please leave a comment and/or request a story. I love to hear your feedback and suggestions. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 144

After much demand, Kink Night at the Undine has arrived. This chapter is really fun, was informative to write, but if you need to skip it, you won’t miss out on the overall story. So, trigger warnings on this chapter for:

- Bondage (mentions of)

- Pegging (possible mention of?)

- Impact play (discussed, both done wrongly and demonstrated correctly)

- Topping and bottoming

To be clear: These are all mentioned from the perspective of a non-participant, non-voyeur. I would probably overall rate this chapter appropriate for 14 years and older, but your mileage may vary. However, kink in general can be very healthy if done correctly, and this chapter was double beta-read, not only by @baelpenrose but also by @charlylimph-blog for accuracy of the scene.  This actually prevented a PROFOUND mistake from making it to queueing, so I am super grateful for their help.

Once I was released from medical after an unnecessarily long lecture from Noah, I found I had a message waiting from Charly with a date and time to meet at the Undine.  Right below that was a message from Sebastian with a uniform-slash-dresscode of sorts.

Aw nuggets. I had forgotten what night it was. 

There wasn’t time to grab clothes from my quarters, but my office was on the way to the bar, so I stopped by to change.  Socks and shoes were a bit of a challenge, since I generally didn’t wear either, so I had to find a vendor to help me fill in the gaps.  Granted, shoes weren’t specified in Sebastian’s list.  However, there was exactly a zero percent chance that I was going to lend a hand at a kink party while barefoot. Just… no. Nope. Not happening.

I wiped my palms nervously against my slacks when I arrived, not sure exactly what to expect.  Charly and I had talked about it, but none of that knowledge wanted to make its presence known at the moment, apparently.  Instead, my mind kept drifting to what in the actual hell she had roped Arthur into doing.  The door opened entirely too soon to reveal a smiling Charly, who grabbed my arm and dragged me behind her to the small group already gathered.

All of my nerves were forced from my body by the sputtering laughter I fell victim to when I saw Arthur - I still had no idea what he would be doing, but he looked like someone took a post-apocalyptic movie hero and hit a button labelled ‘make him a villain’ a few too many times.  The leather jacket and motorcycle pants were fairly innocuous, since I knew he actually owned both and neither were terribly uncommon on the Ark.  Same thing held for the boots - they were just practical in the After and several people held on to that preference with a death grip.

“Cloak’s a nice touch,” I snorted, trying desperately to ignore the campier bits of his outfit.

I was dangerously close to losing it when he scowled and adjusted the laurel crown - I mean, really? - resting on his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have cut my hair this morning,” he muttered. “Damned thing won’t sit right anymore.”

Charly clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, one more run through of what everyone will be doing!”

Sebastian nodded seriously and flicked a towel over his shoulder before handing me an apron. “Sophia has kindly agreed to prep the snacks, while I serve and clean behind people. She’ll clear any dishes in between batches, and one or the other of us will do a lap of the floor every fifteen minutes to ensure everyone is hydrated and there’s no need for medical attention.” He winked at the relief on my face.

Cooking, clearing plates, and momming people into staying hydrated. I could do that.

Arthur brushed off his pauldrons, only forcing me to confront the fact that they were shaped like skulls again, before straightening with aplomb. “I will be Dungeon Master, keeping an eye on everything from there,” he pointed to a scaffold that had been put into place over the bartop, “And intervening as needed if things get out of hand.” Without so much as a twitch of question from me, he explained. “Charly and Coffey can’t be everywhere at once, so I get to perch on high, look ridiculous, and play bouncer if Coffey can’t get there first.”

“Yep,” Charly nodded seriously. For all that she normally seemed built out of chaos and energy, this was Boss Lady Charly. “Let’s keep it safe, sane, and consensual across the board. Speaking of!” She pulled two badges from seemingly nowhere. “Soph, Bash, these are for you.” I took one and immediately grinned when I read it. Staff Only - I Do Not Consent. “If either of you want to play, go for it, but otherwise, probably wear those.  Sexy librarian and millionaire CEO are tropes that exist, so ya know - no confusion for anyone.  Any questions, concerns, cries for help?” When we all shook our heads, she clapped again. “Okay, off you go! Thanks everyone.”

Sebastian tilted his head toward the kitchen and I followed, wiping my hands on my legs again. “Thank you for agreeing to help with snacks.  I know Charly already told you, but I am not the greatest at finger foods that don’t make a mess or won’t be too heavy.”

I hummed for a second before making a few suggestions. “Macaroni and cheese bites, they’re about this big.” I made a circle about an inch and a half across with my fingers. “Just pop and go. Pigs in blankets, the kind with cocktail sausages… meatballs, but probably with lamb instead of beef.  Dumplings.” I shrugged. “Charly swears people actually bring food to these, so once that stuff starts coming in, it would just be portioning it and sending it back out.  We shouldn’t have too much actual cooking to do.”

He nodded and started grabbing ingredients. “So that leaves drinks, plates, and utensils.” When I reached for a rack of glasses, he stopped me. “No.  If one of us drops anything that can break, people can get injured.  I’ve been stocking up on fiber-based plates, forks, and spoons.  Drinks are going to be in those corn-starch gel pouches.”

“Dude,” I groaned. “Those things get so gummy.”

“Straws are real and do exist.”

“Besides, I can already tell someone is going to find alternative uses for those,” Arthur called from behind us. I swear, I could hear him smirking. “You can’t put humans, sex, and flavored liquid in the same room and not expect that.”

I shook my head with a smile, but he had a point. Once we shooed him away, work on the snacks went pretty quick.  Judging by the sounds coming from the main room, it was a good thing, too - furniture being dragged, then Arthur’s voice ringing out to welcome everyone.  Soon, Sebastian was swinging out of the kitchen door with the first trays, and true to Charly’s word, he came back carrying a plate of neatly stacked fudge, followed by Arthur carrying a covered container.

“Scratch the meatballs, someone brought an actual mountain of sausage balls,” Arthur grunted as he slammed the container on a flat surface before retreating.

“Not even a joke?” I mused.

“Must be slipping,” Sebastian grinned. “I mean, he said ‘balls’ twice…”

“Low hanging fruit!” a voice called from the main room.  It must have seemed entirely out of context to the crowd, but Sebastian and I were laughing as we started plating so he could carry more food out to the spots Charly had designated.

A timer went off, so I took the mac and cheese bites out of the oven, snagged a tray of drink-blobs, shoved a fistful of straws into my apron and took off to do my lap of the event.  There were already people taking a break, reaching gratefully for hydration.  Several times, someone would reach for one and pour it in a partner’s  mouth, and on one occasion, a woman offered it up like a gift to a bound man, both biting into it and drinking greedily.

I almost stepped on someone before I realized there was an actual pile of people on the floor. I diverted my eyes quickly from what I thought was an all-out orgy before my brain registered that I wasn’t hearing sex noises - just whispers.  Snapping my eyes back up, it took a moment to figure out that I had nearly stepped on the largest cuddle pile I had seen since my apartment on Insert Winter Holiday.  Crouching, I balanced what was left of the drink blobs on one hand while holding out the straws with another.  In no time at all, the tray was empty and I was heading back for more.

This time, food on one hand, drinks on the other, I exited the kitchen to see Charly wrapping up her rope-bondage safety lecture before starting to demonstrate different knots on a volunteer, with Charly in the role of the top for this scenario. Watching her calmly contort and restrain another human being while calmly explaining the psychology behind it was… kind of terrifying.  I had to constantly remind myself that this person volunteered and that Charly was experienced on both ends of the rope.  

One more sweep of the room landed me with only a dozen or so drinks left on top of a pile of empty trays.  I backed into the kitchen to sanitize and re-load the trays, only to hear Sebastian swearing. “Who the hell brought chili!?”

“Apparently someone thought it was a good idea,” I shrugged, baffled. I mean, it didn’t seem like a good idea to me, but this wasn’t exactly my area of expertise.  “Maybe we put it in bowls, set up a little station in one of the break areas, with toppings? Let people help themselves?”

“Bondage potlucks and chili…” He shook his head. “Trying to remind myself that I’ve seen weirder things, but…”

“I can promise you, they are having fun. And they’re hydrated!” I shook my mostly empty platter of blobs at him.

Sebastian went out to retrieve more food from the people who brought it, and I kept rolling sausages in dough.  “More fudge!” he crowed. “I snagged a piece of the first batch, and it was amazing.”

“You clearly do not see the irony,” I muttered where he couldn’t hear me. “Oh, heavens, no chili! But fudge… fudge is fine…”

The next time I was able to break free and take my designated lap, a slight bit more chaos had descended as everyone had gotten more comfortable.  Several of the more experienced were examining and complimenting each other on their knots and arrangements of their subs. Ivan and Jokul were doing…. Something… that involved Ivan in a gorgeous evening gown and Jokul with a gag in his mouth.  I was almost done with my circuit when a thud reverberated behind me and a black cloak whipped by.

“For the love of…” Arthur growled. I thought he was going to dribble the cowering man he was glaring at like a basketball, but instead he brandished a marker and made two quick X’s on a bare pair of buttocks. “Here and here. Only here and here.” With an irritated flourish, he wrote NOT HERE across the small of the attached back. “This will give someone kidney damage.  Specifically you if I catch you doing it again.” Ducking around to the face of the person he had just used as a whiteboard, he shook his finger. “And I’m not even going to apologize, because you have a safeword and you need to use it. First, last, and only warning, you two. If that hit had been any more than a nervous first tap, you wouldn’t even be getting that.”  Without a word, he snagged the cane sitting on the table nearby and took it with him. “They aren’t getting anywhere near the cane, fucking idiots. Gotta talk to Charly about those two…” he muttered as he blew back past me, so angry he didn’t even acknowledge that I was standing there.

I almost dropped the stack of empty platters when the Imperial March started playing while Arthur stomped back into his position over the bar. “Attention, Deviants!  Courtesy of some poor practices I’ve seen, I would like to invite Sir Coffey and his pet fae Charly to give us a tutorial on safe and proper impact play!”  Applause started as he beckoned them forward, Sebastian theatrically adjusting the lights to center in front of the stage.

I ducked back into the kitchen as Coffey’s voice rang out over the crowd, explaining yet again safewords and consent before launching into what toys were used how and where.  A little public humiliation never hurt anyone, I joked with myself. At least not for some of the people out there.

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[rmtndew]

Begin Again ~ Chapter 7

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff) 

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is the final chapter for ‘Being Again’. I want to thank everyone who commented and shared my story, and sent me messages. You have no idea how much it means to me! I appreciate y’all so much! Thank you! 🥰

Tag list - @hollydaisy23​, @alyxkbrl​, @onlyhenrys​, @omgkatinka​, @speakerforthedead0​​, @gearhead66​,  @thethirstyarchive​, @oddsnendsfanfics​, @littlerinoa​, @agniavateira​, @aaescritora​, @justaboringadult​, @beenthroughalot​, @seriouslygoodlookinggents​, @xxxkatxo​, @musicartmayheminmyheart​, @lilliannaansalla​

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (Final)

When I woke up the next morning, it was like the night before had only been a dream. Like it was too good to be true. But when I checked my phone, I had a text from Marshall that reminded me it was absolutely real. 

Marshall: I hated leaving you. I hope you know that. Those few hours of sleep that  I had with you were some of the best  I’ve had in ages. You say I make you feel safe, but you make me feel calm in a way I’ve never felt. I hope you have a good morning. I’ll call you later.

After I read his text, I felt myself starting to cry. It wasn’t a sad cry. It was a happy, cathartic cry. Like I couldn’t contain everything I felt for him, and it had to release somehow. I’d never shared a bed with a man simply to sleep before. My past boyfriends had always expected something in exchange. Having Walter just be there was new to me. What I felt for him went beyond attraction. I didn’t know if I could ever put it into words, I just knew that it nearly hurt to feel it all. But I didn’t want it any other way.

The rest of my morning went much better than the previous days. I checked in with Mom but did my best not to worry about her. I went to the store, bought groceries for the week, and even splurged on some new candles. Then that afternoon, I started prepping for dinner. I had an idea in mind and hoped it would work out. 

At a little after seven that evening, with only ten minutes left on the oven timer, I called Marshall. “I have two questions,” I said once we exchanged ‘hellos’. “Although I think I already know the answers to both.” 

“And what would those two questions be? Or would you prefer to give me the answers first?”

“Well, I think the answer will be a yes, and then a no.”

“I’m very curious now.”

“Okay, so question one: Are you still at your office? And question two: Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Only in this one specific instance,” I said. “But it brings up a third question that I don’t know the answer to.”

“Which is?”

“Would you let me bring you dinner? I overcooked and I won’t be able to eat it all, and it’s not the best as leftovers.” 

He was quiet for a moment. “Could I come to you instead? I think an hour’s break might do me good.”

“Of course you can come here. I’ll keep it warm and we can eat together.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

After I hung up, I pulled out the new fall scented candles I’d bought that day and put them on the dining table, flocking the vase of flowers he’d bought me the night before. I wanted the house to be warm and inviting, but I didn’t want him to know that I’d planned any of it. I was pretty sure that the only way I could get away with spoiling him a little was if he thought it was an accident. He may have been the one to ask to come over, but I knew that if I’d mentioned coming to him, he wouldn’t want me to go out of my way, and would come to me instead.

He was there in less than half an hour, which made me think a little speeding was involved. I nearly teased him about putting on his siren to get there, but I couldn’t get the words out fast enough. As soon as I closed the door behind him, he had me pressed against it, his mouth on mine in an almost bruising fashion. It was different than the enthusiastic urgency so much of our makeout sessions at his place had involved. Something else was driving him. Whatever it was made him pull away almost as quickly as he’d started. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He tried to take a step back, but I wouldn’t let him. I grabbed his sides, doing my best to hold him in place. He wouldn’t look at me. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Once I was convinced he wouldn’t run away, I moved a hand up to his face. I didn’t try to make him look at me. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t mean to be that rough. I shouldn't've -”

“Shh. No,” I cut him off. “I’m not fragile, honey. I can handle a rough kiss.” He finally lifted his eyes to mine, but the look on his face was conflicted. It hurt me. I put my other hand on his face, cradling it gently. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just desperately needed to feel you.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “This case...the more we find out…” He let out a breath and put his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. “It doesn’t matter.”

He held me tighter against him. His hands felt so needy. I was afraid to say the wrong thing and make him self conscious. I stayed exactly as I was, holding his face, and let him press me further against him. Whatever had happened in the case since we’d spoken on the phone had gotten to him. He was usually so big and tough and strong, but he stood in front of me, soft and vulnerable. After a few moments, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed me back, then let me take the lead, keeping it slow and tender. I pushed my back against the door and let him melt into me. When it felt like all the tension was gone from his body, I took one of my hands from his face and moved it down to one of his hands on my waist, holding it. 

“Let’s go eat, okay?” I said.

He nodded, holding my hand, and followed me as I walked to the kitchen. When we reached it, he stopped at the entrance and looked around. The lights were dimmed and the candles were lit. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I didn’t,” I lied. “I used to do this for myself when I lived alone. Sometimes I’d put on music, or, if it was raining, I’d open a window and listen to it. I thought tonight would be a good night to try it again.” I rubbed my thumb over his hand. “And now I get to share it with you.”

“Your candles are better than mine,” he said, finally giving me a small glimpse of a smile. 

“I can help you shop for new ones. How’s that sound?”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” I kissed his shoulder. “Take a seat. I’ll make you a plate.”

“You don’t have to. I can do it.”

“I know you can, but I want to,” I said. “Will you let me?”

He chewed the corner of his mouth for a second. “Yeah,” he quietly relented.

“Thank you.”

He sat at the table and I pulled the food from the oven, where I’d been keeping it warm. Spinach and cheese stuffed chicken with roasted vegetables. I made us both plates, then got us drinks before sitting down. I sat right beside Marshall, rubbing his back with my left hand while we ate. A few bites in, he seemed to brighten a bit. 

“This is fantastic,” he said. “But I don’t believe for a minute that it doesn’t taste good as leftovers.”

I smiled. “That might have been a tiny lie so you would let me feed you,” I said. “Do you forgive me?”

He put his hand on my knee. “I do.”

“Good.”

He let out a breath and sat back in his chair. “You don’t know how much I needed this. I’ve been staring at the same evidence for hours, trying to figure out what I’m missing, and I can’t seem to find it.” He licked his lips. “Our victim, he wasn’t a good person. He had an extensive history of domestic violence. I keep looking at the pictures from the crime scene and comparing them to the ones in the police reports of his ex-girlfriends, the ones they filed after he’d beaten them, and I can’t imagine one of them or someone in their families shooting him twice and walking away. After what he did to those women, anyone who shot him because of it would have had more passion behind it. This was too cold and calculated for that. So if he wasn’t shot for what he’d done to them, then what was the motive?” He ran a hand over his face. “And that’s what I’ve been asking myself the last three hours, and what I would have been asking myself through the night if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Maybe stepping away from it all for an hour will help you refocus.”

He nodded, gently squeezing my knee. “If nothing else, I’ll be thoroughly distracted,” he said, finally giving me a proper smile. 

I smiled back. “I’m happy to distract you for as long as you’d like.” I gave him a kiss. “Now eat your vegetables and you can have dessert.” He raised his eyebrows at me and smirked. I blushed, burying my face in his shoulder. “Tiramisu. I bought a tiramisu. That’s the dessert.” 

“Good. Because although another type of dessert would divert my attention far more, I’d prefer for it to last longer than an hour.” 

I was still blushing but managed to raise my head to look at him. “Really?” I asked. He nodded. “I’ve, um, I’ve never had dessert last that long.” 

He looked nearly appalled. “Never?” 

I shook my head. “Maybe twenty minutes. And that’s being generous.” 

“You must be the only one being generous is that’s the longest it lasted.” 

“You’re not wrong.”

“When it’s time for us...would you let me change that for you?”

My cheeks burned. I averted my eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I know, but-”

He took his hand from my knee and moved it to my chin, lifting my face to look at him. “Fi, none of it should be about ‘having’ to. It should all be want. I’m asking because I want to. You should only answer with what you want. Neither of us should feel obligated,” he said. 

I bit my lip for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” I said. “I want to try letting you change it. But I get in my head a lot, so I can’t promise I’ll be good at it.” 

“You don’t have to be. That’s not the point.” He let his hand fall from my face down to his lap. “You and me together, that’s the good part,” he said. “But when the time comes, we’ll talk it through, yeah? Make sure we’re on the same page.” I nodded. “Good girl.”

My blush deepened, but I smiled at him. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Something horrid, I’m sure.”

I laughed. “I was thinking it must be the opposite. You see, Detective Walter Marshall, I quite adore you.”

He smiled back. “Do you now?”

“I do. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

He nodded. “It’s more than okay,” he said. “It’s also mutual.”

My smile spread wide. “So you like me, huh?” 

“Yes, Miss Sparks, I do.”

“I’m starting to question your taste, mister.”

His head fell back and he barked out a laugh that shook his whole body. “Normally that would be a good call, but not this time,” he said. “Besides, you can’t date a mess like me and question my taste.” 

I pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting my lips linger for a moment, enjoying the scratching-tickling of his beard against them. “You’re my favorite mess,” I said as I pulled away. 

He smiled at me. “Good, because it doesn’t get much better than this,” he joked.

I brushed a curl back from his forehead and let my fingers skim across his brow. He’d meant it as a joke, but sitting there with him, I couldn’t help but think it was true: It didn’t get much better than that.

I knew that Walter was tired. He kept yawning - and apologizing for it - during dinner. I kept telling him it was fine, that I understood, but he still seemed slightly embarrassed by it. After I cleared the table, I was going to get the tiramisu from the fridge but paused by the coffee pot on my way. 

“Do you want me to make you some coffee, Walt?” I asked, turning to look at him.

He’d been dozing and jolted awake, looking almost surprised at his surroundings before his eyes landed on me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need some sleep.”

He nodded, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “Yeah. I should probably go.”

“Or you could stay. You said you slept well last night, and I’d be worried about you if you drove home this tired,” I said. “And, you know, I kind of enjoyed it, too.”

“This isn’t an act just so I can get in your bed again.”

“I know.” I walked over to him and ran a hand over his hair, brushing it back from his face. I tilted my head towards the doorway. “Come on, bear. Go on up. Your sweatpants are folded on the chair in my room.”

He stood up in front of me. “Let me help you clean.”

I shook my head. “I’m not cleaning tonight. It’ll be there tomorrow. I’m going to set the coffee maker for the morning and lock up. That’s it.” 

He gave me a look that was the closest to pouting as I’d ever seen on him. “I’ll wait with you.” 

He followed me back to the coffee pot and wrapped his arms around my waist as I filled it with water, then put in a new filter and coffee grounds. As I set the timer, he left slow, open mouth kisses down my neck. I may have been complimentary when I was sleepy, but Marshall, as it turned out, was clingy. And I didn’t mind it one bit. 

“Let’s lock up,” I said to him. 

He buried his face in the crook of my neck and let out a breath. He stayed that way for a moment, then said, “Okay.”

He let me go and we snuffed out the candles, then he stayed close as I locked all the doors and turned off the lights. Going up the stairs, he held my hand, trailing behind me because the stairwell was too narrow for the two of us to walk side by side. When we reached my room, I gently nudged him in. 

“I’m going to the bathroom. Go get comfortable and I’ll be back in a minute,” I said. 

He just nodded his reply.

I continued down the hall to the bathroom. I had a laundry basket of clean pajamas to pick from, so I had a quick pee, then changed before piling my hair up in a bun. When I went back to my room, Marshall was already in bed. He was on his side and looked asleep. But after I turned off the light, I got in bed beside him and he immediately scooted closer.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asked sleepily. 

“I was kind of hoping we could switch and you’d let me hold you,” I said. He cracked his eyes open and looked at me, the crease between his eyebrows visible in the dark. “Not in a backpack, koala type deal, like you hold me.” 

“How?”

“Like this.” I placed his arm around my middle, then gently guided him until his head was resting on my chest. I pulled the covers up around us before wrapping my own arm around him, lightly rubbing his back, leaving my right hand free to rake through his curls.

“You’re not wasting any time taking me up on my offer to play with my hair, are you?” he mumbled.

I smiled. “Nope. Is that okay?” He nodded. I let my fingers sink to his scalp and lightly began scratching it. After just a few seconds, his body weight seemed to double as he relaxed, melting into me, and the mattress. “Is this comfortable for you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. “We can switch if it’s not.”

“No, s’good,” he said, his words slurred. 

I kissed his forehead and continued to scratch his scalp. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Holding him to me, I could feel his breathing slow and even out as sleep claimed him in a matter of seconds. But even after he fell asleep, I didn’t stop. I held that big bear to me and loved on him as much as I could, hoping that even in his sleep, he could feel it. My plans to spoil him that night had only included cooking dinner and getting him to relax for an hour. What I got was so much better. I had never cared for a man as much as I cared about him. All I wanted for the rest of my life was the deep peace that welled up in me as I held him. 

I woke the next morning with a hazy, dreamy feeling. I was warm and wrapped up and for a moment, I thought I was at the beach, stretched out on a towel under the sun. I expected to smell the ocean air, but when I breathed in, it was something else. Something better. Something that gave me the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. That feeling slowly began to peel the layers of sleep back from my mind, and as I began to wake, I felt the feeling of fingertips grazing up and down my back. Then I felt a kiss on my forehead. Soft, warm lips lingering on my skin, finally waking me up.

I opened my eyes and all thoughts of the beach disappeared. Gray sunlight streamed in from my window, lighting up my room enough for me to see Marshall’s face as he smiled at me. 

“Good morning, darling,” he said quietly. He was on his side, just inches away from me. 

“Good morning,” I said. 

I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the light, and taking in the form of the beautiful man in front of me. His head was propped up with one hand, his bare bicep next to my pillow, and roughly half the size of my head. His chest was mesmerizing as it rhythmically rose and fell. I’d never been attracted to chest hair before, but Marshall changed all of that. Without a second thought, I reached out and ran my fingers through it. He hummed contentedly. 

“How did you sleep?” I asked. 

“Like a rock.” His hand stilled at the small of my back. “How about you?”

“Amazing. You’re deceptively comfy for someone so stout.”

He laughed. “Am I?”

I nodded. “I like it.” 

I leaned forward and kissed his chest, the hair tickling my nose. His hand moved from my back as he reached up to cradle my head while I continued to pepper his skin with soft kisses. When I made it to the juncture of his shoulder and neck, he tilted my head back and captured my lips in a slow, lazy kiss. He pressed my back into the bed and was over me, surrounding me, as he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to hold him as close to me as I could. He left me panting as his mouth moved from mine and kissed across my jaw and down to my neck. There was a spot behind my ear that he knew was my weakness, and he went straight for it. He nipped at it with his teeth before kissing it, and I went boneless against him. 

“I love it when you do that,” I breathed. 

His lips ghosted over my ear. I could feel his hot breath on me, sending a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin. “I love doing it to you.” 

“It’s a shame I don’t live alone anymore. I could get used to waking up like this more often.”

He nosed my ear, kissing the underside of my jaw. “I live alone,” he said. “For the most part.”

“Are you bragging?”

He laughed. “No. Just letting you know that the next sleepover could be at my house.”

“A sleepover? Can we stay up all night telling ghost stories?” I joked.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Anything is a dangerous promise, mister.”

He looked down at me. “And yet I mean it.”

I smiled. “You really do like me, huh?”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I really do,” he said. “Actually, I…” He made his grunting-humming sound, then shook his head.

“You what?” I gasped jokingly. “Do you like like me, Walt?”

He looked me in the eye, smiling at me. “You’re the only one who calls me that, you know?”

I played with the hair at his neck, twirling a curl around my finger. “I didn’t know.” 

“I’m fairly sure most people don’t even know I have a first name.”

“I feel pretty special that you told me, then.”

“You are special.”

“And that’s why you like like me, right?” I teased. 

He let out a long, measured breath. “That’s why I love you.”

My heart felt like it stopped completely. “Are you serious?” I whispered.

He suddenly looked nervous. “I am. Is...is that okay?”

“Is it okay that you love me?”

He looked so boyish as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yes, it’s okay.” I took his face in my hands. “Yes, yes, yes!” I said, peppering kisses all over it. “It’s…” I couldn’t even think of the right word. 

“Not too soon?” he questioned, though his worry seemed to be fading some after my reaction.

I shook my head. “No. Not at all, bear. It’s right on time.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Is it, now?”

“It is,” I said. “Because I love you, too.”

The smile he gave me right then made my heart flutter like never before. There were no worry lines on his face, no concern, just happiness. I wanted to cry at how beautiful it looked on him. “Do you really?”

“More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

He kissed me and it was like he was trying to pour every ounce of love he felt for me into it. It was so overwhelming that, finally, I did cry. Marshall held me and kissed the tears from my face.

The morning before, I thought that I couldn’t put into words what I felt for him. But right then, the words came so quickly, it was like I’d been saying them all along. 

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[novannna]

"Let go of my hand." With nobell? 👀👀

ahhhh rae tysm for the ask i had a lot of fun writing this!!!!

nova and danna are just doing a standard mission, when stuff goes wrong.

tw: death, bombs, heights

wc: 2035

“So,” Danna said smoothly, coming up behind Nova. “Got any plans tonight?”

Nova rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’ve got a date.”

“Do you? Is the lucky person any interesting?” Danna smirked, and leaned against the railing surrounding the rooftop.

Nova shrugged. “Eh. I like to think that I’m the one who really completes the relationship.”

“Hey!” Danna frowned. “Rude.”

Nova rolled her eyes again. “You were asking for it. And you know I’m joking. You are the interesting one, I just like to stand next to you and look pretty.”

“And you excel at that,” Danna replied, leaning in to kiss Nova’s cheek. “But I’d say you’re pretty interesting yourself, with your uncle being Ace Anarchy, and being the former supervillain Nightmare.”

“You think so?” Nova asked, her tone part sarcastic.

Danna grinned, and pushed herself off the railing, and threw an arm over Nova’s shoulder. “I know so. Believe me, all my other partners have never saved the world from a sadistic asshole pretending to be a god.”

“Yeah, I am pretty great aren’t I?”

Danna grinned, and leaned in to kiss Nova’s chapped lips. “The greatest,” she murmured.

Nova glanced over at the criminal behind them. Just a simple robber, nothing special. There was only a need for two Renegades to deal with him. It had only taken a few minutes for them to find, and subdue the criminal. Now, he was sitting, bound in handcuffs, and propped against the railing of the roof, a strange smile on his face.

“How long till clean up gets here?” Nova asked, her face twisting. “Something feels off about that guy, and I can’t wait for him to be out of our hands.”

Danna followed her gaze, and wrinkled her nose. “At least an hour. We’re out at the ass end of Gatlon, and there was a problem that required immediate attention. You’re right though, he’s scaring the fuck out of me.”

“And he’s not even a bird!” Nova widened her eyes in mock amazement.

Danna scowled, and lightly punched Nova’s arms. “Shut up.”

Nova smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Danna asked, already pushing Nova’s choppy hair out of her face, and cupping her head in her hands.

Nova laughed softly. “What do you think?” She lifted her brown eyes to Danna’s and inhaled her warm scent. Danna smelled like flowers, and sun, and all the best things in Nova’s life.

“Are you smelling me?” Danna asked, amused.

Nova’s face flushed bright red. “Maybe,” she half mumbled. “You smell good.”

Danna laughed, her voice sending warmth through Nova’s body. “You smell good too, Star.”

Nova froze, her smile curving into a frown. “Do you hear that?” A faint beeping noise, barely hearable, but still there.

Danna cocked her head. “Hear what?”

Nova drew away from Danna and walked towards the noise. It was coming from the robber, his lips still in a twisted grin.

There wasn’t any happiness, or playfulness left on her face. “Star, what do you hear?”

Nova didn’t respond. Instead, she knelt next to the robber, and carefully peeled back his jacket.

A ring of explosives around his waist, and a timer blinking down. There were only seven seconds left, each red pixel sending a bolt of fear into Nova.

The robber laughed, low and sinister. “You lose, bitch.”

“Nova get back!” Danna screamed, stumbling away, her feet clumsy with fear. “Get away from him!”

Nova couldn’t get far enough. The timer blinked out, the red 00:00 mocking Nova. The explosives erupted in fiery red heat, the blast throwing Nova around. She landed hard against the railing, the metal sending sharp pain into her back. A large piece of debris smashed against her shoulder, sending pain lancing through her arm.

“Nova!” Danna screamed, her voice sounding far away.

Then the railing was tearing away, and Nova was falling. Her body was falling through the air, ready to shatter against the hard concrete far below.

Her body came to a wrenching halt. Danna was leaning over the edge, eyes full of terror and tears. Her hand was wrapped around Nova’s, the only thing keeping her from falling to the merciless ground.

Nova could feel the wind blowing against her clothes, a reminder of how high she was.

“Hold on Nova,” Danna gasped, her face screwed with pain.

Nova nodded, too terrified to speak.

“Can you pull yourself up?” Danna asked.

“I… I don’t think so,” Nova said. “I think my other arm is broken, and there’s nothing for me to hold onto. I’m stuck.” She could feel both their hands start to get sweaty, both from the exertion and fear.

Danna nodded, her movements frantic and forced. “You’re going to be okay,” she said. “We just need to wait for the others to get here.”

Nova shook her head. “That’s over an hour Danna. I can’t hold on that long.”

Danna’s hold on Nova’s hand tightened. “Well you have to. I’m not letting you die tonight.” There were tears spilling out of Danna’s eyes, cutting tracks through the dust left from the explosion. Dimly, Nova was aware of how filthy she was too. Her entire body was gray,and her hair was full of dust.

“What are we doing tonight?” Nova asked, trying to think of anything but the air below her. Trying to think of anything but the fact that she could be moments away from death.

Danna half laughed, half sobbed. “You’re hanging off the edge of a 200 foot building, and you want to ask about your date?”

Nova tried to shrug with her broken shoulder, but instead gasped at the rush of pain. “I’m trying to think of something pleasant to look forward to.”

“Well I can’t tell you,” Danna said, her voice breaking. “It’s a surprise. If you want to find out, you just have to hang on for a little bit longer.”

Nova laughed, but it was sobered by the impossible reality.

“Danna…” She said softly.

Danna shook her head. “No. You have to hold on for long enough, you understand? I’m not letting go, so you can’t either.”

“They won’t be here for at least an hour. One arm is broken, the others in pain, we’re both tired. It’s impossible.”

“No, you can do it. I can do this. Nova, you aren’t fucking falling, understand?” Danna’s voice was strong, but her eyes betrayed her doubt.

“Crystal,” Nova replied, trying to blink away tears. “But if-”

“No ‘if’s’.”

Nova tried to smile, and nodded. “Alright. I’m surviving, then we’re going to go on our date, and you’ll surprise me with some wonderful evening.”

“Exactly. You see, pretty simple.”

Simple enough in words. But still Nova’s arm ached, and her fingers grew sweatier, and all she wanted to do was let go.

But if Danna wasn’t giving up, then neither was Nova.

“Can you reach your wristband and call for help,” Nova asked.

“It was broken by a rock in the explosion.”

“Fuck,” Nova muttered. “Is there anything we can do?”

Danna shook her head.

Nova cursed again. “My hand really hurts,” she murmured.

“Mine too.”

“I don’t know if I can’t hold on for an hour Danna.” Nova met Danna’s eyes. “I want to hold on for as long as possible, but can we please be realistic?”

“No,” Danna said, her voice breaking into a million pieces. “I know how impossible this is, but I can’t fucking let you go Nova. I can’t watch you fall. I can’t.” Her body shook with barely contained sobs. “I fucking love you. I’m holding on until the Renegades get here, and even then I’m not letting go. There’s only one ending to this, and it's me and you walking out of this together.”

Nova was sobbing too, the force of her grief making her body move on the wall. “Danna, please. You have to be realistic.”

“I can’t think of it Nova. Because if you fall, then it will be my fault. I let you die. I would be the one who let your hand slip away. I can’t live with that.”

Nova nodded, heart thudding in her ears. “Then I just have to hold on a little longer.”

“Why did this happen? Why did he have to have a bomb, why did it have to be us?” Danna asked.

“I don’t know.” Nova could feel her skin starting to rip open from Danna nails grasping her wrist so tight. “There’s nothing that we could have done.”

Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. But, at that point, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the arm holding Nova tight, keeping her safe from the world.

Nova was finally starting to think that they may be able to wait long enough for her to be saved.

Of course, that was when it came tumbling down. The piece of roof Danna lay on, weakened by the explosion finally had enough. It started to rip out of the wall, carrying Danna with it.

With a scream, the girl managed to wrap an arm around the metal railing, just as the stone fell down, shattering against the concrete so far below.

“Danna, are you okay?” Nova asked, horror coating her throat. Her breath was coming out in short gasps.

Danna nodded. “Good enough. I’m not too hurt. But the railing is starting to rip out. I don’t know if it will hold.” She was crying. Her body was shuddering, maybe for the first time considering what could happen.

Nova wasn’t though. She knew what had to happen. SHe knew what she needed to do. Fuck, she didn’t want to though.

All Nova wanted was to go home hand in hand with Danna, back home to their small apartment and friends. She wanted to have their date, then have a few more. But they weren’t going to be able to hold on forever, and Nova wasn’t going to bring Danna with her.

“Let go of my hand Danna,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper.

But still Danna heard her.

“What? Are you crazy? No way!”

“I can’t hold on much longer, and that railing isn’t going to hold the both of us forever. I’m not going to make it, you know that.” Nova was perfectly calm now. If Danna was in danger, then Nova was ready to die for her. She’d do anything for Danna.

“It will hold,” Danna insisted. “Nova, you can’t let go. You can’t make me live without you. You can’t.”

“I love you,” Nova screamed. “I love you so fucking much, so don’t you dare risk yourself for me.”

Now she was crying. Big fat tears rolling down her cheek, and falling down to the ground like rain.

“Hold on,” Danna pleaded.

Nova looked at Danna, tears clouding her vision. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and she let go.

Such a simple feat. So easy, just a single thought.

But it was the hardest thing Nova had ever done, letting go of Danna. Letting go of the life she had wanted. The life she had fought for. Letting go of her everything.

Danna still held on to Nova, but it wasn’t enough. With each breath, Nova slipped a little farther.

“Nova!” Danna screamed. “Please, just wait. We can do this. Please, I can’t live without you.”

“I love you so much,” Nova said softly, trying to convey all the unspoken words. “But there’s no good ending for us. I won’t last another hour.”

The metal railing groaned, and both girls fell a little farther.

“I don’t think we’re going to have our date tonight,” Nova said quietly.

Danna shook her head. “We will! We’ll have one every night! I swear, just hold on a little longer!”

“Danna, promise me something,” Nova said. “Promise you won’t mourn forever. Promise you’ll try and find someone new. Please.”

“Nova!”

She smiled sadly, and met Danna's eyes. “It’s okay, Danna. Let go of my hand.”

“No, I can’t,” Danna sobbed. “You can’t.”

Nova closed her eyes, and kicked off the wall, breaking the contact between her wrist, and Danna’s hand.

She could hear Danna’s scream, muffled by the wind, and then there was nothing at all.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober, Day 6: “Stop, Please!”

CW: Intimate whumper, creepy whumper, abusive relationship (of a sort), slavery, degrading language, hand whump, blood, threats of death, shock collar

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission

“We could move here.” Savvie points, and the end of her fingernail - perfectly manicured into a rounded tip, polished to high shine - taps against her laptop’s screen. “See, Jax? This is gorgeous scenery, isn’t it? Just for the summers, of course. I’d buy us an apartment to stay in in the winter.”

She shifts, her shoulder resting lightly against his where they sit on her bed, whiling away the afternoon. These are her favorite days, the ones where she finishes her practice time early and they have a couple of hours to spend just being together, here in her room, with the view of the woods that ring her home a beautiful backdrop out the window.

His eyes flicker over the image of what seems like a quaint little cottage situated just a few feet from a river, surrounded by beautifully green trees on every side. “Where… where is it, Miss Savvie?”

His voice is a little hoarse, but that’s his own fault. He’d had some sort of issue the night before, but she’d handled that, and only the occasional involuntary shudder of his muscles gives away that he’s still feeling the effects of the shocks. 

She’d discovered, a few weeks ago, that she could set the remote on a timer, and she’d kept that knowledge a secret, waiting until he did something worth disciplining him for. Last night, after his attitude problem, she’d sent him to his room to sleep, set his shock collar to go off for just a couple of seconds at high intensity every hour and fifteen minutes all night long, and gone to bed herself.

He must have screamed - he had nearly no voice left by morning, and every sip of his coffee clearly hurt him, even as she insisted he finish every single drop. His room is so well-soundproofed that Savvie never heard a thing. Besides, it doesn’t matter.

What matters isn’t whether or not he’s got a teensy sore throat - what matters is that today he’s much better behaved, and Savvie doesn’t mind those circles under his eyes since she knows she was the one to cause them. 

“Russia.” She breathes the word like it’s made of magic, reaching over to take his hand. He doesn’t pull away, but his fingers twitch against hers. If she were any less herself, she might realize it’s because he wants to pull away, but is stopping himself. “This is in the country. I’d get us an apartment in Moscow, too.”

His hands have always been rough and calloused, skin worn red and raw by cleaning chemicals. When he’s good, he gets to wear gloves when he cleans. When he’s not, well, somehow those gloves go missing, and the work still has to be done.

She’s kinder to his hands, these days, though. Not that she minds them feeling a little rough. 

She lifts his right hand up, and he stares steadily at the little house on the screen while she presses a kiss over the platinum band he wears on his ring finger. Ready to move to the left, once she’s certain. Once they’re safe.

Once she takes him so far away his fucking father can’t ever, ever find him and steal him away from her again. Once no one can brainwash him and make him think he doesn’t love her, doesn’t want to be with her forever, for life. She’ll never have to watch him say hateful, hurtful things on the stand. 

Never, ever again. She just has to keep him hidden so far away that no one can find him, until they think he’s dead, until no one is looking, until they know he’ll never come home because his home is by her side, for the rest of her life, where he belongs.

Whether he wants to be there or not.

His eyes scan the real estate listing, empty of emotion. It’s all written in Cyrillic, it might as well be hieroglyphs to him. But the photos tell him enough. It’s a little vacation home for a millionaire, tucked away in the woods. Subtly luxurious, on the inside, with old-fashioned wood-beam detailing but pre-furnished with the biggest, fluffiest-looking bed. Maybe even bigger than her bed here. 

It looks like it had to be built inside the room, just to fit.

“Why-...” His voice catches, and he winces. When she leans over to nestle her head into the crook of his shoulder, she feels him go tense and then carefully, slowly, methodically relax. “Why Russia? France is… probably warmer.”

“You don’t speak Russian,” Savvie says, dreamily, trailing her fingertips along the back of his hand, tracing the blue of the veins she can see beneath his skin. His fingers twitch again, but she ignores that. She’s going to be the only person who sees him cry, sees his faint, soft little smile. The only person who sees him bleed.

“I don’t speak any other languages, Miss Savvie,” he replies, and she wonders if he’s lying to her, then decides he wouldn’t dare. 

“The cottage in the summer,” She murmurs, “and an apartment for the winter. My parents had some friends who own a building in Moscow, full of families just like mine.”

He swallows, hard, staring at the screen like he could light it on fire with his mind, if only he could try hard enough. “Like… yours, Miss Savvie?”

He doesn’t talk much, any longer. Did he used to speak more, the first time? She feels like he spoke more, before. Ever since she made it clear that she wouldn’t settle for less than all of him, he’d gone more quiet, more reserved. Even this was more talking than he did, mostly, now.

Not that she minds. He’s as gorgeous quiet as he ever is when she can drag enough words out of him to call it a conversation. 

“Like mine. Which means they have people just like you.”

He nods slowly, his face a perfect mask of emptiness. His body shakes, suddenly - and then he’s still again.

“Aftershocks?” She slides an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

“Yes, Miss Savvie.” 

“Hm. You deserved it, you know.”

There’s a pause - minute, barely a fraction of a second. “Yes, Miss Savvie.”

“I liked Russia,” She muses, reaching out to click through the photos of the little summer home. One single big bed, for the two of them, just how it should be. The perfect place for them to start all over, somewhere new. “They’re good to classical musicians.”

“What about your ankle… tag?” He glances over at her, and Savvie frowns, shifting uncomfortably so her skirt will cover up the ugly black band she wears around her left ankle, with a box attached that has a small red light on the top. She’s worn it for long enough she barely feels it, unless he draws attention to it, or she thinks about all the places she cannot go, because of him.

Because of his hateful fucking lies he told on the stand, with his father sitting there glaring at her when she tried to tell Jax it wasn’t his fault for being stolen - they called it rescued - and she would make sure he didn’t have to be alone for long.

She didn’t want to be alone, either.

“One day, I’ll get it off,” She says, closing her eyes briefly. “When it’s time to go, Isaac will tell me, and we’ll take off the stupid thing and you and I will be gone before anyone comes here to see what happened. One day, no more ankle bracelet and no more parole. I’ll board Isaac’s plane and you’ll go with me, and we’ll be together forever, in Russia.”

“Miss Savvie-”

Her hand suddenly gripped back onto his, tightening, as she felt the fear of losing him twist up around her heart again. “They’ll never find you,” She says, but it’s vicious, words spat out with furious, all-consuming conviction. “Never, Jax. Not your father, not the fucking police, not detectives not any-fucking-one in the whole fucking world will find you where I’ll take you.” 

“M-Miss Savvie, my hand-”

“You’ll be safe.” She drags his hand up against her chest, over her heart, holding it with both of hers now, squeezing as tightly as she can until she can feel the bones grind together in her grip. “You’ll be with me, far away from anyone who could take you away, and you won’t be able to leave me, not ever.”

“I w-wouldn’t-... Miss S-Savvie, please stop, m-my hand-”

“You won’t ever fucking leave me.” She takes in a deep breath, lets it out in shaky little exhales, and lets him go. He jerks back from her, staring down with slightly wide eyes, and she looks, too.

His hand is reddened from being squeezed so tightly, his fingers splayed open. There are little red crescents dug into his palms, new wounds on old scars, where he sometimes keeps his hands in fists, a nervous habit, he says, nothing more.

Now, there are red marks on the back of his hand, not crescents, but inch-long trails over those same blueish purple veins - blood welling up under the skin where her nails pressed so deeply, so firmly, that they broke the skin as she dragged them down the back of his hand. He rubs at his palm, making the ring he’s wearing glint in the light, and the shine is a reminder, just like the black shock collar he wears around his neck, that he’ll always wear, until she can trust him.

“I would never hurt you,” She says, and even she can’t escape the incongruity of the words when compared to the beads of blood she can see where she’s already done just that, the sore throat that keeps him hoarse and half-whispering after a night spent in screaming pain locked in his room where she could hurt him without having to see or hear it happen. “But if you leave me-... if you try-”

“I w-won’t, Miss Savvie,” He answers quickly, maybe too quickly, his shoulders hunched, staring down at his hand, still.

“If you leave me,” Savvie says, voice flat and sincere, “I’ll make sure Isaac kills your father, and your mother, and your mother’s fucking dogs and I’ll make you watch every single one of them die… but I’ll never, ever let him kill you. Go wash your hand.”

He’s up and in the bathroom before she even finishes her sentence. The door closes behind him, not quite a slam, not quite careful, either. She listens but he doesn’t try to lock her out. He knows better. Last time he tried to lock a door she made him regret it.

She takes deep breaths, centering herself slowly. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In through her nose…

She clicks through the photos of the little vacation home again. The house tucked away in the woods, the beautiful design, the riverbank and the huge custom-made bed. She imagines Jax, ring on his left ring finger now, making her breakfast. She imagines him wearing a beautiful leather collar instead of the ugly black shock collar. Once she thought he wouldn't wear one, one day - but in her daydreams, he always is.

Maybe she just can’t even imagine him without one, now.

She imagines him saying, I love you, Savvie. She imagines him somewhere where he can never, ever be rescued stolen away from her, ever again.

By the time he comes back from the bathroom, his hand wrapped in gauze, aftershocks running over his skin worse than before, she’s happy again, gesturing him back into bed with her. In a bright, cheerful voice, she asks, “Want to watch a movie?”

He stares at her, blank-faced, before he does… something that’s sort of a nod but also not really a response at all, and climbs back in beside her. 

Russia, she thinks, as she settles back in, feeling him tense and relax when she snuggles up against him, arms around his waist. He’ll be happy, really happy, there, where there will be only the two of them, forever and ever.

He’ll be happy, once he really understands that no one else but her will ever see him alive again.

---

Tagging: @astrobly, @slaintetowhump, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @moose-teeth, @eatyourdamnpears, @whump-tr0pes, @orchidscript, @whumpiary

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia: Night Drivers/Return to Wartwood Review “Many Happy Returns”

Hello you happy people. And Amphibia is back and that means my reviews are back! As for why this reviews a bit late despite it leaking, I wanted to wait for today, and long story short both focused on finishing a review that WASN’T time senstive, instead of finishing it Sunday, and overestimated how much time i’d have to do two reviews on a day that included my first covid shot, grocery shopping, helping mom clean the car, and my friend coming over to watch Judas and the Black Messiah. Excellent film by hte way, as was the Sound of Metal which we watched after. Point is I done goofed and I will try to at the very least actually get the reviews of the episodes out on the same day they come out. 

But slip up or not i’m happy to be back in the saddle, and back to Wartwood. I’m pumped for the heavier second half, with more secrets to uncover, some zelda style temple action, and some heavy drama with just a whiff of keith david, as well as to see the supporting cast from Wartwood again after far too long. So how’d the mid-season premire pair fair? Join me under the cut to find out. 

Night Drivers: I was really excited by the Road Trip idea when first announced for season 2. A chance to expand the world and get the plantars out of their comfort zone was an amazing concept and it did lead to some really great stories and interesting locales.. mixed with episodes that had interesting locations but no interesting plot or character stuff. It was a mixed bag, and disappointing after close to a year’s wait to continue the plot that it really didn’t outside of “Toadcatcher”. Anne never really dealt with her trauma and the show never dealt with hop pop’s poularity or anything else. Again there were GOOD episodes and ideas but it felt like the show stalled for a good chunk of the season till we got to Netwopia which while still having tons of slice of life stuff felt a lot fresher with it, and had a lot more fun playing with stock plots and gave us a fresh new setting to dig into. 

So I was a bit hesitant to go back to the road for an episode.. even if it was just one episode. Thankfully I was very wrong there as Night Drivers was a pretty good episode and would fit well among the best of the road trip arc like “Truck Stop Polly” “Fort in the Road” “Anne Hunter” “Toadcatcher” and “Wax Museum”.

The plot is straightforward: Sprig and Polly are excited that their almost home to wartwood and if Anne and Hop Pop drive all night they’ll be there by morning. Polly will get pillbug pancakes and Sprig will see Ivy again. This is part of a long tradtion of “skiping over the journey home because we’re tired and we wanna go home” in fiction. Jokes aside it’s a resonable device used to prevent ending fatigue and in this case to free up episodes for the second half. We already saw the journey once, we usually don’t need to see it again. To Amphibia’s credit they have valid reasons for it: The journey is LITERALLY sped up, as Hop Pop and Anne have been driving for 20 hours straight.. and their on a timer. As was established last time.. well the last time that wasn’t a spooky halloween episode, The Plantars have to get back for the harvest and really don’t have time to sightsee, while they all have to be there for whenever Marcy comes back to take Anne to the first temple. They’ve also traveled these roads before so while their going a whole other directoin, they know what perils to avoid. 

But as anyone whose taken a long cartrip can tell you, you can’t shotgun it forever and the two eventually tap out with Hop Pop telling Sprig and Polly not to night drive as it’s dangerous and blah blah blah standard parental warning that will be swiftly ignored. So once Hop Pop and Anne are conked out they swiftly ignore it after we get their dreams.. which are the best gags of the episode: Hop Pop has a dream with weird, really cool looking monsters that represent his faults, only for it to turn Lucid and him to start flying and take his shirt off and whip it around Muscle Man style. 

While Anne’s is about a yogurt world where there’s only one flavor... BLACK LICORICE. Yeah it quickly turns from Shopkins to the Lich From Adventure Time really fucking quick. 

So while Anne has a nightmare and Hop Pop becomes unto a god, Sprig and Polly drive all night, repreadtly running into a creepy hitchiker and realizing it is as dangerous as they said with bolders, even worse creatures than usual because of course theye’d be a lot of nasty things lurk in the dark why wouldn’t they on froggy death world, a nightmarish fog and nearly dying on said foggy road they took to evade the hitchiker. Naturally the scary hook handed hitchiker.. is a friendly one, simply trying to help them and saving them from going over a cliff. They do make it three miles from Wartwood and Hop Pop wakes up angry to find they disobeyed him.. but Anne gets him to back off as they clearly learned their lesson from the sleep deprviation and nearly dying, and our heroes head for home. 

Night Drivers isn’t an exceptional episode, but it is decent and still does belong with the other good road trip episodes, with some good dream sequences and a nice dynamic between Sprig and Polly. It was nice to have an episode with the two that was good unlike Quarallers Pass which made me want to run full speed into my nearest wall until I was given the sweet gift of unconciousness. While the Hook Handed man thing was a bit obvious it lead to some great gags. It’s a nice breather after the tearjerking mid-season finale and while we’ve obviously had months and a haloween episode between that, the creators rightfully realized a lot of people will be binging the series in the future. The issue I had with the first quarter of the season was it was ALL break and only a little plot progression. Here we’ve had a lot of plot progression in the last episode chronlogically, and are going to have a lot in the coming episodes with ‘After the Rain” coming next week. It’s nice to take a break and see the forest for the hook handed ghosts.

Return to Wartwood: I was excited and terrified of this one. I was excited because I missed the supporting cast from season one, mostly Ivy and Maddie, and was delighted to see them again in full. But I was also worried the show might pull out a melancholy breakup plot and having gotten attached to Ivy/Sprig and Hop Pop/Sylvia I was worried. And I was delightfully wrong as instead it’s another breather episode and an utterly fantastic one after the simply decent one above. 

Our heroes return, without being drawn by rob liefield or replaced by the Squadron Supreme first, and are happily greeted by the town. Aformentoined fears died a happy death as Sylvia squeezes Hop Pop and as for Sprig, Ivy unsuprisingly ambushes him. Everyone’s back and the Mayor, who I also badly missed is back using Toadie as a gong to get everyone back to buisness, with Swampy inviting them for a big dinner at his diner that night to celebrate and welcome them back.. and to give out their gifts. 

Sprig and Anne are equally confused while Polly and Hop Pop are sweating bullets. Turns out when they got the Fwagon they agreed to get a bunch of stuff for the town and forgot and now everyone’s on the hook for it and want to lie their butts off to solve it. In a nice show of character development, Anne has learned that the lying never solves anything “I think we’ve learned that lesson by now”. After SO many plots of the characters lying and it going terribly, it’s nice to have someone speak up. Sprig also wants to lie but only becuase he’s deeply afraid Ivy will break up with him as she wanted a Red Sun shell to go with the blue moon shell she gave him. Awwww. And oh crap. 

So our heroes head home to plan and kick Chuck out (“I grew tulips”). So they do the natural thing... and decide to summon an edltich beast from the necronomicon... which of course Maddie gave Sprig as a present (”Aww that’s nice”. Agreed Polly, agreed.). I also can’t help but love the line “We’re all cull with practicing the dark arts to solve our problem right?” So our heroes get the proper summoning horn, thing to go with the horn and some candles.. i’ts not part of the ritual but Anne says it helps with ambience and it’s right. 

So our heroes summon the Chikalisk, an edltich god that’s naturally basalisk in all but name, which dosen’t attack unless attacked and goes after gold. So they fake some golden presents, and the beast attacks at the party.. but the town naturally fights back, and our heroes are forced to help fight the monster as it stonifies people. So we get a truly glorious battle sequences as the whole town shows off how badass they are, with Maddie curing people, Sylvia showing she can keep up with Hop Pop and Ivy showing her already established badass bonafieds. It’s just awesome. Also the Mayor uses Toadie as a shield not realizing he’s turned to stone which can only remind me of this. 

Once the townsfolk are freed they get into Chickalisk formation (”We have a formation for that?” “We have a formation for everything!”) And it’s offended enough to just nope out. The townsfolk are depressed though the presents got destroyed and Anne glares the family into coming clean. And while the mayor seems mad at first... he just laughs with everyone taking it in stride: It was boring without them getting into trouble and learning lessons every week, and they missed them.  Ivy likewise dosen’t care about a gift she just missed her boyfriend.. and asks Sprig to take her on a proper date and smooches him on the cheek leaving both him and Anne catatonic, with Polly dragging Anne away and sprig just falling over before Maddie hits him with the potion. It dosen’t work that way, end episode. 

Return To Wartwood was a standout episode, with tons of great jokes, pacing and a nice plot that showed growth in anne. While Night Drivers was decent, this was the show at it’s : Sweet, deranged and adventurous all in one episode. While Night Drivers was a good appitizer this was one hell of an entree. Or an appetizer sampler which I often use as an entree. Great episode and a nice high note to start on. 

Next Time: We get an Ivy focused episode!

And Hop Pop is finally forced to own up to his lies!

As the twin kermits sooth you if you liked this review, follow me for more, check the amphibia tag for more reviews from this season and join me on patreon. If I get another patreon, i’ll add reviewing season 1 to my 25 dollar stretch goal so look out for that and my next one at 20 dollars, only 5 dollars away, nets a monthly review of a darkwing duck episode. Check it out and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[thewatermelloncat]

Powers Against the Father (Diego)

Luther, Allison and Klaus, Five, Ben, Vanya

Author’s Note: Let me know if you want to be put in the tag list.

Warnings: None

Tag list: 

@lunamusamelark

@ll-short-breadstikz-ll

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Her face is too white. Almost as white as it is when her powers are activated. Though Diego knows this is for a completely different reason.

For weeks their father had been talking about Vanya using her powers to levitate, which wouldn’t be a problem unless he planned for her to levitate outside the fourth story window. And today is the day for his barbaric plan to potentially kill one of his children.

Vanya doesn’t join in with the idle chitchat between the siblings as they wait in the foyer for their father to come down from his office to commence their training. Instead she stands off to the side, her hands in her pockets, her face as white as a sheet.

Diego had been ignoring all conversation around him as he watched her. He’d seen her barely touch her breakfast and she hadn’t looked up from the floor all morning. It didn’t take a genius to know she is beyond nervous.

Without thinking to hard about it his feet carry him over to stand next to her. He hadn’t planned to say anything, just stand next to her and it comes as a surprise to him when she turns to him to speak.

“I’m going to die.”

It was unnerving how upfront she was being about it. “We won’t let that happen” Diego tells her.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” she sounded annoyed but Diego was able to chalk it down to stress. “Tell dad that you forbid him to make me do it?”

He doesn’t have anything to say and only shakes his head at her.

“You know, I heard Five talking the other day” she remembers, looking over at him talking with Ben as they watch Klaus run chaotically up and down the stairs. “He was saying that the median height for people falling to their deaths is four stories.”

“Good thing you’re not a normal person” he tells her.

“But my body is still built like one!” she yells, drawing the attention of the rest of her siblings.

Diego can tell she regrets it as she shrinks back further away from the group. Everything freezes for a second, all eyes falling to her and Klaus stopping running up the stairs, before he turns tail and makes his way down and over to her. The other siblings falling into place behind him.

“I know it’s wrong” Allison sighs, shaking her head as the group congregates around her.

“But you’ve done it before” – Luther’s encouragement is interrupted.

“Not four stories in the air, Luther” Diego bites back at him. “Half a metre off the kitchen floor doesn’t really compare to that, does it?”

They can all tell that it’s for their sister’s sake that Luther doesn’t fire something back at his brother.

“Is there something we could do? Some kind of measure we could put in place?” Allison asks.

“Luther could catch her” Klaus puts out.

“If he calculates her trajectory wrong, she could crush both of them” Five dismisses.

“It’ll be better than nothing though” Ben points out. “At least injuries heal.”

“Guys were thinking too negatively” Luther says, “this might actually work.”

“And you want to try it without any kind of safety measures?” Allison raises an eyebrow at him.

“Not all of us have super resilience like you” Vanya adds.

Around Diego his siblings squabble with one another arguing the best way to save their sister if needed. Though he chooses not to listen, instead formulating his own plan. After considering its logistics it takes him a couple of goes to get his siblings’ attention.

“Guys, shut it!” he cuts in, stepping into the middle of the formed circle. “I have a plan.”

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Diego is barely finished whispering the plan in his siblings’ ears when their father descends the stairs coming to stand nonchalantly in front of them. Hastily they back away from each other forming their standard line.

It’s doubtful that anyone listens to their father’s instruction about Vanya’s training exercise that is about to follow. Though bits stand out like when he forbids Five to jump Vanya to safety if she is to fall. Diego is glad that he doesn’t mention a single thing about him as he fingers the blade of one of the knives hidden behind his back.

After their father gives them the command to make their way to the courtyard and for Vanya to follow him, Diego rushes forward to her before she can follow him. “You just need to make your way down.”

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Vanya can’t feel her fingers as she looks out the window at the ground below her. She knows that it won’t be as far down as it looks, but that thought doesn’t help her. She can’t hear her father’s commands as he reminds her of the proper technique as she hesitantly climbs up to sit on the edge of the windowsill.

The ground blurs below her but she can still make out the uniforms of her sibling standing in a line watching her. With a shudder of breath, she turns to her father. “Don’t make me do this” she begs him, tears beginning to fall out of her eyes.

“This is the only way to unlock your potential” his response would normally have Vanya coming back at him with a counter argument, but she’s too scared to think of anything. “Out the window. Off you go, Number 7.”

All Vanya can do is hope that Diego is true to his word as she turns around on the ledge, supporting her weight on her hands. Below her she can feel the air solidifying beneath her feet as her powers activate, but she knows it’s not enough to hold her. She gasps in a breath continuing to grip the edge of the windowsill tightly.

“Let go Number 7” her father commands her.

“I can’t!” Vanya can barely get the words out. “I’m not ready yet!”

From the ground her siblings bunch in together as they watch in suspense, latching onto one another as their father begins physically removing Vanya’s death grip on the windowsill. Diego takes this as his cue and steps apart from the group releasing the two knives he’d kept hidden behind his back, each of them sinking into the brick wall beneath Vanya’s shoes.

Vanya holds back a sigh of relief when she feels the blades slip into place under her shoes. They hurt a little with their limited surface area digging into her feet, and she’s not sure if they’ll hold her weight. But it’s enough and she doesn’t resist as her father pries the last of her fingers off the windowsill.

The siblings all hold their breath as Vanya’s last hand comes away from the window, though it hovers closely over it, and their father starts the timer. It stretches into the longest minute of their lives as they watch their sister balancing on the blades of two horizontal knives. Diego seems to be the most nervous out of them, hoping that they stuck into the brick deep enough.

At Five’s quiet whisper of 10 seconds left, Diego can see Luther take a step forward preparing to run and catch her if she falls. While Five himself sets his stance into one that readies him to spatial jump to catch her if needed.

“You can do it, Vanya!” Allison calls out to her after their father gives the signal that the time is up.

Though none of them are calm yet as Vanya’s face pales at the thought of stepping off the knives. But as her sister’s words of reassurance reach her ears, she is able to muster up the courage to step off.

Around her she can feel the air solidifying to hold her, though she’s sinking fast. But that’s okay, the ground is where she wants to be. She can feel the wind rushing past her ears, lifting her hair into the air and across her face, but it’s more like a gentle breeze than a hurricane. Her landing isn’t as smooth as she would have liked for it to be as she stumbles and catches herself against the brick wall.

Standing away from her she sees her siblings in their line, a mix of happiness, suspense and worry on their faces. By the way they all lean forward she can tell they all want to rush over to her but that would be against their father’s wishes. She can see Klaus bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet. She wants to run and hug them herself, if just to latch onto something that was stable, though she knows she can’t and makes her way over to stand in her place at the end of the line.

As she walks past them, she flashes Diego a grateful look and an appreciative smile before taking her place and turning back to face her father in the window and the knives imbedded in the wall.

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 11

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, injuries. Rated M

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

We awoke from a loud banging on the door.

“Get up and get dressed, bitch. You got work to do!”, a gruff voice said. “Where the hell is her guard?”.

Rick flew up and put on his pants and shirt, faster than I’d ever seen anyone do. “Disappear!”, he whispered at me; and I went out of sight.

Opening the door, Rick stared down the guard outside. “What the hell are you doing here, asshole? You’re supposed to be watching the pastel psycho!”, he growled; making me bite my hand to avoid laughing at this new nickname for Harley.

“Sorry, sir. Right away, sir”, the guard answered, and ran off down the hall.

Rick closed the door again, and I reappeared, sputtering with laughter.

“Pastel psycho? Oh, she’s gonna love that!”, I chuckled. “Please don’t tell her I said that”, he said, and grabbed for his boots and jacket; before realizing I was standing naked in front of him.

He walked up to me, wrapped me in his arms, and kissed me deeply, making my knees go weak. “It might be a minute before I get to do this again”, he breathed, and latched on to my lips once more.

The room was still chilly, though we had fogged up the window quite a bit the night before. I was shivering from the cold, and Rick helped me gather my clothes.

Finally dressed, we shared one last kiss, before leaving the room to join the others; Rick once again holding on tightly to my arm.

Walking into the room with the cages, we were met by Waller, Edwards and the Tweedles; and the squad. They were standing over a folding table, looking at a map.

“How considerate of you to join us, Chess”, Waller said coldly, before looking to Rick. I pulled at my arm, to make it seem like he was holding on to hard. “Did she try to run?”, she asked him.

“I got her”, he answered, and pushed me towards the table.

“Yeah you do”, Harley smirked at us, before Floyd bumped her with his shoulder, mouthing a shut up, and grinning in my direction.

“We’ve narrowed down the location of our target to this area, most likely this building”, Waller said pointing at the map.

“The target being?”, Harley asked with a half-smile. Waller looked at her indignantly. “That’s not important for you to know”, she answered. “All you need to know is that the leader of the group is a bad guy, and it’s your job to take him down”. Harley narrowed her eyes at the woman, before smiling again. “Anything you say, boss”.

Waller continued. “The building we believe they are occupying is close to Gotham U; making that the most probable target of their attack. You need to take them out before they make their move”. She put a small shoulder-bag on the middle of the table. “This is how you’ll do it”.

Rick opened the bag, and pulled out a square black box, with a number display on top of it. He carefully put it on the table, and took a step back; making everyone but Waller follow his lead.

“Waller, this is crazy”, he gasped. “You wanna blow this guy up?”.

“I won’t be blowing anyone up”, she answered, and looked at me. “Chess will”.

A murmur rose in the room, as I froze in place. “I don’t know the first thing about bombs!”, I squeaked.

“This one is quite simple”, Waller answered with a smile. “You press that red button, hold it in for three seconds, and let go. The timer is pre-set to 1 minute. After that, the bomb will go of. It’s quite forceful, so you should try to hurry out of the way”.

Rick moved towards her menacingly. “Waller, this is out the question. She can’t do this!”. “Why not? She’s been perfectly able to run away from explosives before”, she answered. “Her ankle”, he tried. “Seems to have healed up well enough”, Waller said, looking towards my leg, and my unbandaged ankle. “She’s even got a new pair of nice leggings to go with it”.

I’d discovered a new pair of leggings – identical to my own cut op ones – in my trunk, before we left Belle Reve.

“This is happening, colonel, and you need to get with the plan”, she said, staring him down. “Don’t forget, I have the same access to those nano-bombs as you do”, she finished, and looked in my direction. Ricks pained eyes met mine. I nodded slightly, and walked up to the table.

I picked up the small box. It was heavier than it looked; or maybe that was just because I was aware of the damage it could do. “This button right here?”, I asked, pointing at the little red nubbin under the display. “That’s it”, Waller answered. “And then I have 1 minute to haul ass out of the building”.

“You seem to know exactly what to do”, she smirked at me, and turned to the rest of the group.

“Now the rest of you. Your job is to get Chess as close to the building as you can”, she said. “Do not go in to the building with her”. “Why?”, Floyd asked; loading his sniper rifle before the job at hand. “We believe they have cctv rigged up, and Chess needs to get as close to the target as she can. She can’t do that with you all holding on to her”.

Harley was fidgeting with her baseball bat. “In and out, huh?”, she asked. “Let’s do it”.

I placed the box in the shoulder-bag, and put it on; now carrying certain death at my hip.

“Yeah”, I said. “Let’s do it”.

“See you on the other side”, Waller said, and left the room, flanked by Edwards and the twins.

Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, everyone was quiet. The bag was heavy on my shoulder, and I concentrated on breathing without freaking out. I felt Ricks fingers lace into mine.

“You good?”, he asked. “Absolutely not”, I answered, smiling. “We all have your back”, he said, backed up by a grunt from Croc. “We ain’t letting nothing happen to you”, Floyd said.

“Oh, lighten up you bastards”, Digger exclaimed, slapping Ricks shoulder hard. “You’re all acting like she’s walking into her death”. “She’s carrying a live bomb”, Diablo said. “Right, I forgot about that one”, Digger grumbled.

---

We were driven in a van to an alley about 3 blocks away from the targeted building.

“From here, we need to go in invisible”, Rick said. He pressed the button on his arm, the small light turning green.

“I need you all to hold on to me”, I explained.

Digger stepped up to me, took a firm hold of my left breast, and smiled at me; gold tooth shining brightly. Rick visibly tensed up. I raised my eyebrows at the aussie.

“You need to be touching a part of my skin”, I reiterated. “Well take your bloody top of then!”, he said exasperatedly.

Diablo smacked the back of his head, and Digger let go. “Well, you’re no fun at all”, he mumbled.

Ricks body relaxed, but he took a firm hold of his machine gun; obviously wanting nothing more than to blow Diggers head of.

“Where?”, Diablo asked, and looked at me seriously, ignoring the death-stare Digger was sending his way. I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket, baring my arms.

“One on each arm I guess”. Shrugging the jacket down my shoulders a bit, leaving them bare due to my loose top, I continued. “One on each shoulder”.

“That still leaves three of us”, Floyd said.

“What if I carried you?”, Croc asked. “It might work. Some of us could hold on to your legs, and we’d be more mobile”, Rick backed him up. “You also wouldn’t be spending your energy walking. We might get further”. I sighed. “Fine”, I said. I rolled up my leggings, and Croc bent to let me jump onto his back. “Piggybacking a crocodile is not how I saw my day going”, I grumbled. Croc chuckled quietly as I grabbed on to him; and I put my cheek to his neck, so we were skin to scales.

Harley took a hold of my left shoulder, and Floyd took my right; after being reminded to take of his glove. Rick placed a hand under my top, on my bare back. Digger, being exiled to my left leg, slid his fingers around my calf. Before he could get too frisky, Diablo moved up behind him, grabbing a hold of the same leg, his hand close to Diggers, to keep it in place.

This only left Katana. She said a few words in Japanese. “Katana, we need to move out. Now”, Rick said pointedly. She answered him, going of in a rant, before I interrupted her with an irritated voice. “Just touch my goddamn leg!”. She shut up, stifled a smile, and took a hold of my right leg.

“Let’s do this”, Rick said, and stroked my back with his thumb in encouragement. “Croc, you set the pace”.

I smiled, and concentrated fiercely on letting my mirage surround us all.

I could hear members of the group gasp, as they saw their limbs disappear into a fog.

“This is some brujería”, Diablo whispered. “Says the pyrokinetic homeboy”, Floyd answered.

We began moving, as I held on for dear life to Croc. The air smelled like rain was coming, and the thought of that made me nervous, as our invisibility wouldn’t help us much, if a sudden shower decided to give away the shape of our bodies moving through it.

“Whoever is groping my ass; move it or lose it”, Floyd said. “Sorry man, I thought you was Harley”, Crocs voice chuckled. “Aw, that’s so sweet”, Harley giggled.

“Quiet!”, I gasped, my body purring fiercely. I could feel my energy being drained at a swift rate.

Croc was moving us forward quickly, getting us closer to our final destination.

We heard a scream from further down the street, and saw three masked men chasing after a man in a suit. “Boomer and Katana!”, Rick hissed. “Right, boss”, Digger answered, and let go of me. It took him a second to move, as he watched himself reappear. He shook his body, and ran off, getting behind a cluster of parked cars. Katana followed his move, recovering much faster.

Pausing for a second behind a parked bus, Harley stepped away, and smacked a sleazy looking guy across the head with her bat. She grabbed my shoulder again, and I made her disappear. We kept moving.

“Deadshot; the roofs”, Rick whispered, and Floyd let go. He climbed up a fire escape, towards the roofs.

Rumbling could be heard from the sky; a single raindrop landing on my cheek. I shuddered from the coldness of the air. “I need a break” I gasped.

Croc moved us towards a doorway, and we hid just inside the door. I was shivering.

“She’s drained”, Rick said, and put his jacket around me. I slid down on the floor. “Diablo?”, he said; and the tattooed man crouched in front of me. He lit his hand aflame, and I cupped my own around it, relishing in the warmth.

“This isn’t a good place to be taking a break”, Croc said, looking outside. “She can’t go on yet, not having to cover all of us”, Rick said angrily.

A loud thump on the ground was heard from outside. Digger came running through the door. “Floyd just took out some poor bugger on the roof, and we got company coming!”, he panted, and looked at me. “What’s with the kitty?”. “She’s spent, man”, Diablo said, looking at him, and then at Rick. “Flag, I can keep burnin’ this flame, but it ain’t gonna give her back the energy she’s lost”.

“I need sugar”, I said, voice weak. Rick grabbed a protein bar from his pocket. “Best I can do right now”, he said apologetically. I ate the bar, while scowling at him. “Boy scout”, I muttered, and tried to stand back up. “Shut up”, he said, and put my arm around his neck, so he could support my weight. “You good?”, he asked, voice soft. “Getting there”, I answered with a half-smile. Forgetting himself, he gave me a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Aaawwww!”, Harley said, finishing with a little squeak.

“Shit”, Rick muttered.

Katana roared something from outside the door; and Rick instantly looked worried. “Croc, go help her”, he said. “Diablo and Quinn; stay with Chess. Try to find her something to eat, anything to keep her energy up. Digger, on me”. “Aye, aye”, Digger said, and went to follow him.

“Croc”, I called just before he went out the door. “Smoke?”. He smiled and threw me his pack of cigarettes. “Goddammit”, Rick said, and ran out the door, the two others following close behind.

Diablo lit my cigarette for me, as Harley went through her purse. “Here”, she said; and handed me a small bag of pop rocks. “They’re the bubblegum kind”, she beamed.

Two puffs of the cigarette, and I was done. “Smoke’s not good for the lungs, mami”, Diablo smirked. “Shut up”, I coughed, and laughed back at him.

I poured the candy into my mouth, feeling the tiny explosions on my tongue. “So, he’s got a good pole that goes with that name?”, Harley jeered, and grinned at me. I instantly flushed red, and looked at the floor. “It’s not half bad”, I smirked. She squealed excitedly, and grabbed me in a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you. Even if he is a stick in the mud”.

The door opened, and Rick looked at us, confused for a second. “What are you…”, he said, and then shook his head. “Never mind. We cleared the street up to the block the building is on. You ready to move out?”. “Do I need to smile?”, I asked. “No, we should be good for about half a mile”. “Then lets go”, I said, and moved for the door with him.

“Hey”, Harley called from behind us. “What”, Rick said, and looked at her. “You break her heart, I break your neck”, she said, face serious.

He held her gaze. “Yes, ma’am”, he answered, took my hand, and we moved down the street.

---

They hadn’t been kidding. The street was cleared alright. Not a bad guy in sight. I saw Croc carrying two bodies over his shoulders, throwing them into a dumpster, before joining the rest of us. Floyd appeared from somewhere. “Roofs are clean”, he said, and moved to the front of the group.

We moved forwards silently, Rick only letting go of my hand, once we reached the street-corner of our destination. The building was tall, and looked abandoned.

“This is it”, Rick said. “This is as close as we can get you”. He grabbed my hand again. “It’s gonna be ok”, I smiled at him. “I’ll be back here to enjoy the fireworks with you in no time”.

He put his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me. His tongue found mine, and we were lost in the moment, my hand in his hair, his on my back, pulling me impossibly closer.

Someone cleared their throat. We pulled away from each other, and saw the squad were all stood smirking at us. “When did this happen?”, Digger asked, followed by another smack to the head by Diablo.

I stepped back, took of Ricks jacket and handed it back to him. “One hour”, he said. “Then we move in to pull you out”. I nodded, and went to cross the street.

I hear footsteps behind me, and Harley grabbed my arm. “Take me with you!”, she said, face serious. “Waller said…”, I began. “Screw Waller! Trust me”, she said. Her expression was for once completely sane. I didn’t know why, but something was telling me to go with her request.

I looked towards Rick, who was shaking his head.

“Y/N!”, Harley insisted. “You’re gonna want me with you!”.

I sighed, looked deep into her pleading eyes, and nodded. She smiled broadly at me, put her hand on my exposed lower arm; and I smiled.

We ran across the street to the building, having difficulty being quiet, due to Harleys stilettos clicking against the concrete. There seemed to be only one entrance; a large wooden door, that turned out to be unlocked. We went inside and let the door close behind us.

Inside was a large staircase. We snuck up it, though we could see no enemies around.

Once on the first floor, Harley let go of my arm.

“Harley!”, I hissed, to get her to stay put. She ignored me, shed her coat, and threw it over a broken chair in the corner.

“Honey! I’m home!”, she called brightly.

 Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[fictionadventurer]

Christmastime Again: A Hallmark Sci Fi Presentation

When the room stopped spinning, Lacey found herself on Christmas morning again. The guests had all arrived, the tree was standing and a light snow was just starting to fall out the window. The start of a picture-perfect Christmas.

As long as she kept it that way.

Alright, from the top.

By now, she could navigate the first part of the day by muscle memory. Scoop up the cat and lock her in the carrier in the laundry room. Straighten the rug and move Uncle Wendell’s beer stein away from the edge of the counter. Turn down the Christmas music just in time to hear the timer buzz and bring the turkey out of the oven at the peak of golden-brown perfection. Stash the cookies out of toddler-reach and get every child at the craft table a red crayon before the hair-pulling started.

Since she could navigate these hours without thinking, her brain was alert to the rest of her surroundings, watching for any unexpected ripples that could upset this version of the Christmas timeline. She noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except for the stares of the guy in the sweater. She’d heard his name--Julian, some cousin of her sister-in-law who had nowhere else to go--but it was hard to remember it when her senses were distracted by the ugly sweater.  It wasn’t cute ugly or ironically ugly; it was “I was raised by color-blind trolls” ugly. All beige and orange and yellow, displaying a big fuzzy reindeer with lopsided button eyes and trimmed with bits of bright green tinsel. If she could have made the loop go further back, Lacey might have tried to prevent him from wearing it. But she could only control the things that took place in this house today, so the sweater stayed, assaulting her eyeballs at every turn.

Not that the guy himself was hard on the eyes. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw shadowed by neatly-trimmed stubble, he had a boy-next-door appeal--if the boy next door happened to be working as a model for the world’s worst sweater company. In the opinion of Lacey’s sister-in-law, Julian was only single because he was married to his work in some university department, but Lacey doubted that was the reason. If he stared at all women the way he was staring at her, the women had good reason to keep their distance.

Dinner was served and eaten with no mishaps. Cleanup was a breeze. Presents were handed out and unwrapped without disaster. And she still, in quiet moments, caught Julian studying her with unusual intensity. What was up with him? He hadn’t done this on previous loops--or maybe she’d just been too distracted to notice it. If he didn’t stop it soon, she’d miss a cue, tumble into disaster, and have to live this day all over again.

While the rest of the family wandered into the dining room for refreshments, Lacey stayed near the tree, picking up the last bits of wrapping paper and defending the tree from the handful of kids playing with their new toys. She moved on reflex, deflecting a rubber ball, a foam dart, a runaway remote-control car. One, two, three, like a dance, and then on beat four, in perfect time, she pivoted on one foot to catch a ball of crumpled wrapping paper.

And found herself nose-to-nose with Julian, his hand around her outstretched wrist.

Those blue eyes stared into hers. “You’ve lived this day before.”

It wasn’t a question or a joke. It was a statement of fact.

Lacey met that gaze straight-on. “What did you say you teach at the university?”

“Temporal mechanics.”

“Ah.” Lacey dropped the wrapping paper.

He let go of her wrist. “I don’t have much practical experience, but when I see my hostess unexpectedly developing superhuman reflexes and responding to statements before they’re spoken, I start to think that either she’s the world’s most boring psychic, or she’s making use of that pretty little bangle on her arm that looks alarmingly like an antique temporal elastic.”

Lacey tugged her sweater sleeve over the twisted copper casing and red control stones of her overworked time travel device. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

“How many times have you done this loop?”

Lacey pushed up her sleeve and counted the tally marks on her arm. “52.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s almost two months of Christmas Day.”

Lacey’s shoulders fell. “I am sick to death of turkey.”

A silence fell between them that was louder than the chatter from the dining room. Finally, he straightened the sleeve of the Ugly Sweater and said, “Putting aside your obvious mental instability and the frankly fascinating paradox storm that must be swirling around us at the moment--remind me to bring some instruments here within the next twenty-four hours--I have to ask: Why?”

She looked at a fragment of ribbon on the carpet and rasped, “I have to get it right.”

The crowd started trickling back in, pooling around the couches while holding plates of goodies and glasses of wine.

As the noise rose, Julian gave her a significant glance “I think we should talk about this somewhere quieter.”

She stepped back, brushing the tree. “I don’t need to go anywhere with you.”

“I think you do. You’ve got two months of memories to work through. You can’t keep that to yourself. You’ll go crazy.”

He wasn’t wrong. She had already learned why the Guild recommended against these sorts of changes--holding onto these alternate timelines was exhausting. She could do with a debrief.

But she had no time for a break. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m hostess.”

“They can look after themselves for half an hour.” Julian opened the door to the hall and waved her through. “And if not?” He shrugged. “What’s one more loop?”

#

It was an odd kind of Christmas weather--cold enough to send fluffy flakes scattering, but warm enough that they needed only earmuffs and scarves and didn’t even bother zipping up their light jackets. She lounged with Julian on the wood steps of the back porch, watching the flakes fall while they sipped at mulled wine.

Julian threw back his head and laughed as Lacey finished telling him about one of the earliest of her failed Christmases. “The whole tree?” he gasped. “The cat just--” He held one arm upright and used the other to mime a cat clamping onto the tree and sending it toppling. “Why did you redo that one? No one would have forgotten that Christmas.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

He sobered. “The cat didn’t get hurt, did it?”

“No, Fluffy was fine.”

“Anyone else injured?”

“No. “

“Property damage? Lost family heirlooms?”

“No. It was a gentle fall, and the only family ornaments on that tree were the pom-pom panda bears. They're resilient.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem?” Only a guy who wore reindeer sweaters would need this concept explained. “The problem is that no one wants the Christmas party interrupted by a toppling tree. It’s a nightmare. Chaos.”

“But memorable.”

“No one wants those types of memories.”

“Those are the only ones people actually remember. If Christmas goes smoothly, everyone forgets it in a month or two. But ‘the year Lacey’s cat took down the tree’? They’d go back to that story for years.”

“How does that make it better? I don’t want them constantly rehashing my failures as a hostess.”

“How is that failing? You provided good food, a comfortable home, a lovely tree. That’s not changed by a few mishaps.”

“This was more than a few mishaps.”

“Only because you’ve done it fifty-two times.” He leaned back against the wall of the house and lifted the steaming mug closer to his face. “What gave you this idea that Christmas has to be perfect?”

She twisted the time travel bangle on her wrist. “My mom...she died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed a lump. “She always hosted these perfect Christmas parties. She’d plan them for months and everything just ran like clockwork.”

His eyebrows rose. He pointed toward the bangle. “Did she...?”

Lacey pushed it beneath her sleeve. “No, never. We never knew it existed until we were going through my grandma’s things a few years ago.”

He relaxed. “That’s a relief. I thought I was going to have to get this place declared a temporal wasteland.”

Lacey chuckled. “Even if she’d had it, she wouldn’t have needed it. Her parties were works of art. Beautiful decorations, perfect food, everyone laughing and singing carols by the end of the night. When I asked her why she did it, she told me, ‘Lacey, these people are giving you their Christmas. It’s your job to give them the best Christmas you can.’” She sipped at her mug to swallow back tears. “When she died, that job fell to me. And when everything went wrong, I had to fix it.”

“Fifty-two times.”

She shrugged. “As many times as it took.”

“I doubt she’d have said your duties extended that far.”

“You’re probably right. But once I went in quest of the perfect Christmas, I couldn’t settle for anything less. It would have felt like dishonoring her memory.”

“It wouldn’t have been. I’m sure her Christmases had plenty of flaws.”

“Not as many as mine.”

Julian ran a finger along the edge of his mug. “You have this idea that everyone wants a Christmas of picture-perfect trees and crackling fires and cozy rooms without a speck of dust out of place. But if they wanted that, they could stay at home and look at pictures on the streambox. They come here because they want your Christmas. Burnt turkeys and cat-toppled trees and all. They want you experiencing it with them. Not fifty-two alternate versions of them.”

She fingered the fringe on the edge of her scarf. “I suppose not. But what’s wrong with trying for the perfect Christmas?”  

“Lacey, there’s no such thing as the perfect Christmas. There’s never been one at any time, anywhere in the world.” He bunched up snow in one hand and tossed it into the darkness. “Even the first Christmas wasn’t perfect. Do you think Mary planned to let her child sleep in a feeding trough? Do you think Joseph planned to let strange shepherds gawk at his son? It was one long exercise in embracing the unexpected, and it created one of the most memorable stories in human history. Do you think your mother would call that a failure?”

This had gotten more abstract than Lacey had expected. A little dazed, she said, “No. No, of course not.”

“You want to control every little detail, but no one can do that.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “You don’t get the perfect Christmas by crafting it. You get it by appreciating the one you’re given.”

She knit her fingers into his. “A gift,” Lacey said.

He smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

#

They stepped into the laundry room together, brushing the snowflakes out of their hair.

Julian held up his mug, which held one last swallow of wine. “To Christmas,” he said.

Lacey clinked her mug against his. “Whatever we’re given.”

Throwing back their heads, they drained the dregs, then set the empty mugs on the window ledge.

Then hand in hand, they crouched down and let Fluffy out of her cage.