#I can’t be convinced that the whole entire mansion doesn’t shake when he gets to into it

[damsel-loves-machines]

“Does Lucifer moan? Does he groan? Whimper? Gasp? Squeak? Quack?”

I have a better question.

Does Lucifer break the bed?

[lexosaurus]

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays

Summary: In which Spencer does not want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

WC: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), Morgan trying to be a good big bro (and wingman)

Spencer Reid does not hate Christmas.

“Reid, come on⎼”

“No.”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did, and it’s a stupid idea.”

No, really. Because hating Christmas would imply he didn’t care. Which he does.

Like when Garcia never fails to drag him into decorating the bullpen every year. Obnoxious Christmas music plays in the background as they bomb Hotch’s office, and it’s worth the smile on his face when he walks in the next morning.

It would mean hating Rossi and his extravagant dinner parties. And yeah, he always hosts but these are just as special if not more so. His mansion is decked in fairy lights and streamers, the food are traditional holiday recipes, and the whole place seems a little less massive.

And he doesn’t hate his breaks. He nearly spits out his coffee when Morgan grumbles about how he almost tripped and fell over from the ice. He has to scramble away as the older man bats at him.

Or when Prentiss drops off holiday-themed pastries? Mhm, just thinking of the ribbon-tied box makes him salivate.

Hating the Christmas card is completely out of the question. Henry and Michael make them every year for the entire team, and JJ makes an effort to shake them out carefully for. It has a boyish charm Spencer never had at their age, a mess of glitter and construction paper. He displays it on his desk anyway.

And you. It would mean hating all the various hot chocolate beverages you’ve made since December started.

Apparently, it’s serious business⎼the art of hot chocolate making. You’ve leaned against his desk, hands waving about as you try to articulate to him the relevance, going over anything and everything you can remember of its history and significance. Of course, he knows all of this already, but he likes you too much to stop you. He almost releases a loving sigh. Instead, he settles for nodding and grinning at you, and he doesn’t really get it but he loves it: the hot chocolate, your pensive expression as you await his critique, even though by now he’s sure you know he has no other comments except ‘delicious’.

He loves it all. He loves you⎼all of you guys. Obviously.

So, no. He does not hate Christmas.

But that doesn’t mean he loves it either.

Which is why, when Morgan leans against his desk, he greets him as normal, a smile forming on his lips as he sets his book down. There is no danger here, except Morgan’s guns. And the heinous green and red envelope between his fingers⎼

Where the hell did he get that.

Spencer’s blood froze. His collection of trauma was nothing compared to this.

Now here he is, packing away his things so he can go home to his warm, cozy apartment and order takeout like he does every year. He's not one for change. No need to break tradition.

But Morgan is acting like a child. Wait, no, even children are better behaved than this. Children at least give up faster.

“I’m telling you, it’s a good idea.”

“As a certified genius, I can say with all honesty, it is not.”

“I promise you it’ll be fine,” Morgan reassures him, voice soothing. The letter, colorful and bright and an eye sore, mocks Spencer. He wishes his reflexes were faster, so he can snatch the abhorrent cluster of sparkles and poorly printed holiday cartoons. And shred it.

Maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll burst into flames.

“Morgan, my class hated me. The whole school hated me,” Spencer shoves another book into his satchel. It's harder than he means to, and he sends a silent apology to Stephen King; he usually handles his books with care. But not right now. Now, he's tired and exasperated and he just wants to curl up on his couch with The Doctor. "I'm sure I won't be missed."

"But you’re the life of the party!"

Spencer looks up.

Morgan winces, "Yeah, even I wouldn't believe me.” Spencer snorts, continuing to stuff his belongings into his satchel. Morgan’s relentless however. “But you deserve to show them up. You’ve got degrees⎼plural⎼and you're a hotshot FBI agent.”

“Are you not aware of the tragedy that is my high school social experience?”

“Oh, I'm very aware, and thank you for being vulnerable with me. But it's because I care that I’m telling you.”

Morgan’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, making Spencer pause. He meets his gaze, the man’s expression solemn.

“You deserve to rub it in their faces until the only thing they can smell is your success.”

Morgan grins when that draws out a laugh from him.

Spencer huffs, “Shouldn't we be the bigger person here by not going?”

The older man grimaces, retracting his hand as if the idea offends him. “Fuck that. Be a show off! They deserve to be knocked down a peg after what they did to you in high school.”

Spencer bites his lip. Yes, he’s accomplished, and yeah, as Morgan said, he’s a ‘hot shot FBI agent’. But the memories surge in like a broken dam, cruel laughter and harsh words crashing into him as if he’s twelve years old again. He’s an adult now, so he doesn’t topple over from the impact like before, but the pain is a phantom limb, old and familiar, and leaves a pit in his stomach.

He was a child prodigy then. How would going back as he is now be any different?

Morgan's heart clenches when an unspoken pain flits across Spencer’s face, glossing over his eyes. He can't imagine how deep the emotional scars go, but he knows Spencer needs some form of closure from his past. So when he found the invite, he knew they had to seize the chance. If he wants to continue to move forward, Spencer has to learn to let go. And right now, this is his first class ticket. It’s why he’s pushing this so hard.

This is for Spencer.

But the doctor shakes his head, a strained smile tugging his lips. “Morgan, I had no friends. Even if I go, what am I supposed to do once I arrive? It'd be awkward enough as is.”

“True,” The older man contemplates, a light bulb going off as he snaps his fingers. “You know what you should do? Ask (Your Name) to go with you.”

“(Your Name)?” Spencer jolts, fumbling to catch his phone. Despite being a man of science, his eyes dart around, like you’re a demon summoned at the mention of your name. “Wha-what? Why?”

“They could act as your buffer. And you did say you wanted to be closer with them. This is the perfect opportunity,” Morgan shrugs. Like his suggestion is common sense, logical. Maybe it is.

But this is you they’re talking about. You would never. You’re too cool for a silly high school reunion.

At least, that’s what he’s convinced himself as Spencer’s face pinches. He catches his lip with his teeth. “Morgan, I appreciate the… thought, but I could never ask (Your Name).”

“Ask me what?”

… Oh no. You are a demon.

Spencer whirls around in time to see the glass door shut behind you. You stand there in all your poise and beauty, the fluorescent lights softening your expression. You're bundled up in a matching coat and scarf, the knitted beanie snug on your crown and clashing with your outfit (Garcia told you it’s not your Christmas present, but you’ve worn it everyday since). There’s sprinkles of snow all over you.

You’re not a demon, Spencer decides, even as you brush a clump off your shoulder, nose scrunched in annoyance. More like a snow angel.

You tilt your head curiously when Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a knowing look on his face as Morgan, realizing the poor guy probably won’t respond any time soon, steps up.

“(Your Name), I thought you went home already.”

You cross the bullpen. “I was. Garcia walked me down and I got to the courtyard. Then I realized she had me so distracted that I left my phone charger,” You rummage around your desk and without looking up, you reiterate, “So ask me what?”

Spencer blinks. “What?”

“You had something to ask me, right?”

Right. That. He runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t⎼oof.”

Morgan jabs his side, “Yes, there is something Reid needs to ask you.” He sends him a meaningful look.

“Shoot.” You nod to them before rifling through your desk drawers. Nope, not there. You card through files and office supplies, oblivious to the conversation Spencer and Morgan have with their eyes, shooting looks and mouthing at each other.

You bend over your desk as Morgan gestures, Ask them!

Spencer shakes his head vigorously, No!

Do it, or I'll do it for you, he mouths.

Spencer squints at him. You wouldn't.

Morgan smirks and Spencer's heart drops to his stomach. Before he can run, shout for help, literally anything, the man slings a buff arm around his shoulders, forcing Spencer to slightly bend down to his level, hugging him to his side.

He's trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

“Reid is going to his high school reunion,” Morgan starts, biting back a grin when the nerd squirms against him. Both men boys watch, one excited and the other petrified as you disappear behind your desk.

“That’s nice.”

"Yeah. But all his classmates are older than him and married…“

“Uh-huh…” You scan the dark floors, half-listening as Spencer frowns at the unnecessary detail. He never told Morgan such a thing. He didn’t even know, so how would Morgan-?

“So, can you guys pretend to be a couple or something?”

Thud.

“What!?”

Luckily, neither of you notice the other’s surprise as Spencer chokes on air at the same time you let out a pained hiss.

Morgan lets him pull away, withholding a snicker. “You good, (Your Name)?”

“I’m okay!” Your head pops up from under your desk as you rub the top of your head. You blink owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me to pretend to be your partner?”

“Yes! But Reid’s partner,” Morgan emphasizes, slapping the doctor’s back hard enough he nudges forward.

You stand and Spencer straightens up, trying not to fidget as your gaze burns into his. You’ve known each other for quite some time now, and while Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well, it bothers him when your expression becomes unreadable. He knows it shouldn't but it does. He’s a profiler, yet your thoughts are completely obscured by a mask. It only makes him more nervous than he already is.

His skin feels hot when your eyes trail over him, and he prays his scarf is enough to cover the flush spreading from his neck.

He's about to disintegrate when you finally answer.

"Okay."

His brow shoots up and his heart flips. You move away from your desk as he sputters, "Really? Are⎼are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Why?” You step closer, and he can’t breathe, not without it hitting your face. You stare him down the bridge of your nose, eyes narrowed. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

“What? No, of course not!”

You raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Then it’s settled? We’ll pretend to be a couple for your reunion thing?"

A beat of silence. Spencer realizes you're waiting for his confirmation. But panic rises like bile in his throat and he hesitates.

Maybe he should back out now, retract the entire conversation and take the embarrassment like a man. Tell you he was never planning to attend the stupid reunion because his classmates were (and probably still are) assholes. Honesty is key to any relationship after all.

Especially between coworkers. Ahem.

A flicker of movement and Spencer glances over your shoulder. Morgan nods frantically at him, teeth flashing as he grins wider than before. He gives him two thumbs up.

Maybe, for once, he should pull a Morgan and just vibe it.

Yeah. Yeah!

Swallowing, he nods to you, giving you his signature white-person smile because he's sure if he speaks he might blurt out something completely inappropriate. Like statistics on workplace relationships (they’re great reading material, okay).

Your lips quirk up. "Cool. Text me the details when you get the chance.”

You brush past him before he manages a reply, your footsteps fading. Morgan waggles his eyebrows at Spencer. Spencer blankly stares after you.

“What just happened?”

“You just got a date to your reunion. A fake date, mind you, but you’re welcome nonetheless,” Morgan smirks at him. “So, you got a plan, Pretty Boy?”

His face falls, and the hearts in his eyes⎼shit, had they always been there?⎼chip slightly.

He does not have a plan.

Deleted scene:

“Did you do it?”

“It went all according to plan, Mama.”

AN: I fucked myself over and wrote 7k+ and still counting. Now it’s an unplanned holiday mini series. This kind of stems from Bonding as this uses Mysterious!Reader. Also, I seem to be into pining (fuck established relationships, suffer in silenceee). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you still enjoy this one shot!! 

One of the biggest disappointments of CM: Spencer doesn’t confront his high school bullies. I read several fics of him doing so, but a lot of them have the bullies be just as much of an asshole as they were to him in the past, but he deserves more closure. 

This will be my take on it. It’ll be a lot of pining but I hope to focus on the his hardships in a less angsty, dramatic way.

Hope you enjoy it!! There will be at least 3 parts?

Also, spread the usage of the term ‘partner’, which can be used for same-sex and opposite-sex relationships.

[victoria-daydreams]

The Long Way Home

Chapter Two: Professor?

AN: It’s my birthday and I’m feeling great so I decided to post today rather than tomorrow. Thank you to everyone that has taken an interest in this story and thank you for the support!

Trigger Warnings: drug use/abuse, mentions of verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09​, @eiferundruhe​

Chapter Three: What the Hell Happened to Him?

Hank put his head down, "Told you there was no ‘Professor’ here," he remarked with a shrug, starting to clean up a table that was covered in things.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, shocked to see his old mentor in such a state.

Hank stood in silence for a moment deliberating whether he should explain or not. With a sigh he placed a bottle down and looked at the desk below him.

"He lost everything. Raven, Erik, his legs..." Hank trailed off, thinking of someone else that he lost, but he decided it was best not to mention it. "He built the school, the labs...this whole place," he continued, pouring himself a drink. "Then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted...and it broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help do something so I designed a serum that treated his spine. Derived from the second formula, that was for me, that controls my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back but he just couldn't take the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs but its not enough...he's just lost too much," Hank looked back up at Logan, and smiled distantly before taking a sip from his glass.

Upstairs, Charles was pouring himself a drink, in an attempt to forget the memories he didn't wish to think of. As he downed a good portion of the alcohol, suddenly, it all came rushing back, the buzzing of hushed tones he so terribly wanted to push away was beginning to torment him.

Charles' arm immediately shot out to reach for a cloth to wrap around his arm. After struggling briefly to tie it around his arm, he pulled it tight with his teeth as his hand shakily reached out to a small table where a syringe and a small vial rested upon. Charles grabbed the needle and the vial of serum before filling the needle with liquid and pressed it into his skin, letting the solution take its effects.

He laid back in his chair and looked over to his nightstand, but he had to look past the countless bottles to see it. There under the only source of light in the dark, musky room was a small, untouched framed photo of Raven. The Raven he knew. The memory of when they first met had rolled through his mind. His mind then drifted to Erik and how he stole Raven from his life. He stole Raven, made her into a completely different person.

But Erik also gave him Claudia. Charles would have probably never met her if it weren't for Erik's vendetta against Sebastian Shaw. But alas she was another loss. Charles remembered the shine in her eyes, the way her lips curved when she smiled, and how strong she seemed the way she carried herself. She was a friend to everyone she met.

Charles closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears and the memories of the two people he loved most. Raven and Claudia. He knew he couldn't save Raven on that beach in Cuba, but Claudia, she could've stayed.

Back downstairs, Logan couldn't but feel that Charles and Hank were tiptoeing around someone and he didn't understand why. Logan glanced down at Charles' desk noticing something that he hadn't before. A picture frame lying face down on the desk, reaching his hand out Logan grabbed the silver frame and flipped it to face him. In the picture was a young, African-American woman who couldn't have been no older than twenty-four.

She had neck length black hair that was styled in a windblown look, her bangs parted to the side. She was looking back at the camera with a wide grin, holding an ornament as she decorated a Christmas tree that was in the picture as well. The Charles he knew mentioned a woman he knew long ago before Logan made this journey, a woman who Charles cared for deeply. Claudia. That was the woman's name if Logan remembered correctly, he wondered if they were one and the same.

"So, this is Claudia," Logan commented, looking up from the picture. Hank froze. He hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in years. By the looks of Hank's expression and his reaction, Logan's suspicions were confirmed. "Heh, I didn't know the professor liked them young," he quipped, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hank snatched the frame away from Logan.,"God, It wasn't like that," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Yes, there was an age gap, but they were very much in love with each other," Hank explained, looking down at the photo briefly and sighing. "They truly made each other happy," he added softly, before placing the photo face down on the desk again.

"What happened between them?"

"Remember that depression I told you that Charles fell into?" Hank asked, resuming his cleaning.

"Yeah,"

"Claudia was there, she was there for all of it. She tried to stick by him, she really did, but she just couldn't take it anymore," Hank paused, as he exchanged a brief look with Logan. "They fought a lot, she was sick of Charles' behavior of being a drunkard. She was tired of feeling more like a maid to Charles than the woman he claimed to love. And well Charles, one moment he's the loving man Claudia fell in love with and in the next he's a mean drunk," Hank explained, picking up empty bottles. "As tough as a woman Claudia is, I knew that some of the things that Charles said got under her skin. She was miserable here, but it all came to a tipping point in 1967," Hank continued, throwing the bottles into a trash bin.

"She left him, didn't she?"

"Yes, by the end of '67 she was gone," Hank answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The night she had left, it felt strangely peaceful. The atmosphere in the mansion didn't feel so heavy. That was until I heard Charles' bedroom door slam open and the both of them shouting. Claudia was done, she was over it. She told Charles that she couldn't keep pretending that they were this happy couple, so for her own sake she was leaving him. She said, if he wanted to remain on his path to self-destruction then be her guest, but she wasn't going to be apart of it. She wasted years of her life trying to help a man who doesn't want it," he recalled, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk in behind of him.

Logan frowned, "And how did Charles take that?" he questioned, feeling like he already knew the answer.

"Not well, not well at all," Hank replied, shaking his head again. "He said some pretty hurtful things to her. He told her to go ahead and leave, he didn't need her. Charles called Claudia a 'useless woman' and claimed that maybe he'd be happier if she wasn't here. I...I’ve never seen Claudia look so hurt, so betrayed in all the years I've known her," Hank looked down sadly, now crossing his arms against his chest. "She actually began to tear up and responded quietly saying 'that makes two of us' before she reached down to her finger and slid off her ring and threw it at Charles," Hank sighed, his mind replaying that night.

"Claudia, Claudia, wait! Please, Claudia, just slow down! Please, just listen-" Hank begged.

"Wait! Charles and Claudia were married?" Logan asked, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"No, just engaged," Hank explained. "They dated for three years, and then Charles proposed to her in '66. As you can tell now, it didn't work out," he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "The last thing Claudia said when she left the mansion was 'this whole thing was a mistake'," Hank added, with a frown as he folded his arms against his chest.

Logan sighed looking at Hank and shook his head. He was sent here for a reason, and now he can't seem to get the job done. He was risking many people's lives if he didn't change this now.

"I'll help you get her," he heard a voice from behind. He smirked and turned around, "Not for any of your future shite, but for her," Charles announced, coming down the stairs.

Logan mused over this and nodded, "Fair enough," he agreed.

"But I'll tell you this. You don't know Erik. That man is a monster. A murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles questioned, his tone growing bitter.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together," Charles stared at him, surprised at the unexpected words. Logan scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arms together. "You are not going to like this, but you told me, practically begged me to get Claudia as well," Logan added, waiting for Charles' reaction.

He scoffed and shook his head, "That, I cannot do,"

That was a pain he had buried away and didn't wish to dredge back up anytime soon, he felt the same for Raven and that old wound was most definitely raw now. He had managed to control his emotions now whenever Raven was mentioned, to a point. But Claudia? That was something else entirely. She was his first love, the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he almost married.

"Charles, listen to me," Logan told him, looking down. "You are going to regret this just as you did when you told me to get her. If you want to save her, this is your only chance,"

Hank frowned at his words and Charles' angry expression dropped, forming into a sad and confused expression.

"Save her?" Hank asked, asking what Charles was not able to.

Logan nodded turning to look at him, "Claudia didn't make it, she's dead," he informed, shaking his head.

"Dead?" Charles repeated, sounding suddenly breathless from this revelation.

Charles clutched at his chest and inhaled deeply, suddenly not feeling too well. Like the world around him was spinning and he was stationary, Charles closed his eyes, guilt swarming inside him.

"Claudia is dead because of me,"

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

[lubdubsworld]

Dangerously Beautiful. (Seokjin x oc)

Kim Seokjin x OC!!

 Genre : Organized Crime AU ! 

Warnings : AU related violence . Explicit Content. Blood , Gore but not too bad. I’ll see how it goes. Extremely Dubious Consent. Abusive relationships. Unhealthy power dynamics. 

Summary : When you’re caught in a war that has no end, the only goal is to survive. 

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

Prologue

“Been a while, huh baby? You’re too fucking tight....” Seokjin grunted, fingers crushing my wrists together with a bruising grip , eyes narrowed as he smirked right into my face as he fucked into me, his hips slamming into mine with a force that made my bones rattle and I had to bite my lips to keep from crying out, tears spilling over my eyes and soaking the fabric of his tie , knotted and stuffed in my mouth. 

“But that’s good...at least it tells me you haven’t been spreading your thighs for anyone else, right baby? Not that you would dare....you know you’re mine, don’t you ? Your sexy little body....all mine, huh darling?” He leaned down and made to kiss me and i panicked. I didn’t want him to kiss me. 

I closed my eyes, turning my face away but he brought one hand up to grip my jaw, yanking my face back to stare at him. He tightened the grip on my chin and I whimpered when his thumb dug into my skin . 

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” He demanded. “ What are you afraid of huh? Afraid to admit how much you like this? How much you like having my cock in your cunt?”

I glared at him, hoping he could read all the hatred, all the disdain and scorn and fury I felt for him. He merely laughed shaking his head, his movements speeding up. He stared at me like I was the most precious thing in the world and yet he treated me like I was something he wanted to destroy. 

“So you’ve been hanging out with Jihoon again...imagine my surprise doll... Me .... one of the most powerful in the country, “ He punctuated each pause with a thrust that left me wincing in pain, “one of the most feared men in the country and yet....my beautiful wife...out flaunting a relationship with another man.... Don’t make me put a bullet in my own brother’s head, Renae....” He growled, thumb slipping into my mouth, alongside the tie. I closed my eyes, , exhausted as my body went limp to fight the pain.

 I hated him. Hated him . Hated him.  

“Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be sore for days.....Heard you made plans with him? Let’s see how you run around the city with my brother if you can’t fucking walk tomorrow.” he snarled and I choked on my tears.

The knock on the door made him pause and he swore. 

“What the fuck do you want?” He roared and I held my breath. 

 Please... Please leave... Just, Please.

“Wang’s here, hyung.” Jungkook’s voice carried through the thick mahogany door. “ He’s got the Lee kid. “ 

Seokjin groaned . 

He glared at the door for a second , taking deep breaths to calm himself down and I could see the anger swelling inside him. i held my breath because I did not want to be the outlet for all that rage. I stared , watching his eyes shift to mine, cold and unfeeling. 

I winced when he brought his clenched fist down on the sheet with enough force to rattle the whole bed. I exhaled shakily as his fingers came up to brush the sweat slicked bangs off my face, thumb pressing into my lips with force.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to reschedule, princess.” he grunted pulling out, and relief flooded my body so hard, i sagged. He made to move away but stopped when I shuddered.

“What? “ He snapped and I froze. 

His fingers reached for the knot at the back of my head and he yanked on it till the tie came undone. I gasped when he pulled the fabric out of my mouth , swallowing to sooth by bruised throat. 

“You look entirely too glad that I’m leaving.” He tilted his head thoughtfully and my gaze snapped to his. 

“I.. I..” My voice broke, rusty from disuse. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

I sobbed in disbelief, shaking my head and trying to move away but he gripped my waist, turning me over and lifting my hips till I was on all fours.

“Grab the fucking headboard.” He whispered , sounding unnaturally calm and I felt a chill spread all over my skin. 

With Seokjin, the calmer he was, the more reason you had to be afraid. 

“I’m gonna fuck you till I cum and then I’m supposed to go kill Lee Jae Hwan’s son. If you stay quiet , let me do my thing... I may consider letting him live. What say, princess? He’s only twenty three years old....  “ He smiled eerily, the sheer beauty of his face a complete contrast to the things he did. 

I closed my eyes. 

It wasn’t really a fucking choice was it? 

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

“You didn’t come to the cafe.” Jihoon’s voice came from the shadows , just as I left the library on the east wing. I felt my heart race, eyes darting up and down the length of the corridor, anxiety spiking as I tried to listen for footsteps or voices. It was mid afternoon and the sun spilled into the open hallways through the open windows, and there was no one in sight. 

 No one visited the East wing that often especially in the middle of the day but you could never be too careful. The servants , guards and the housekeeper were all loyal to Seokjin. And last night... Seokjin had made it clear that he was watching. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t put handsome, kind Jihoon’s life in danger for my own selfish desires. 

I ignored him, walking a bit faster to get away but he moved faster, stopping in front of me and holding both hands up to stop me. 

“Renae....what’s wrong?” He asked softly , eyes warm and worried and brimming with concern and i wanted to sob.

“We shouldn’t be doing this , “ i whispered, shaking my head. “ I can’t convince Seokjin to let me go if he thinks it is  you  I’m leaving with. Right now I hold no value to him but if you keep following me around..acting like a fool....he will keep me chained to his side.!!!” 

Jihoon growled , eyes flashing with frustration and anger.

“He doesn’t deserve you!”

“I know.” I whispered, glancing back up and down the corridor. I was so terrified in my own home and it was so unfair. “ I know but you must remember.... he did not force me into anything. I came here of my own volition. I let him court me and marry me and I am his wife now. He owns me. Unless he lets me go, I cannot escape.” 

“Its been five years. How much longer? How much longer must I wait for you to-”

“I never asked you to wait. Your waiting is your own doing. Don’t pin that on my head, Master Kim.” I said coldly. 

He flushed at that. 

“I just.. i love you. I care for you deeply and I want to give you the life you deserve...does that count for nothing?” He asked, desperately and I looked away, laughing at his naivety. 

At twenty five, Jihoon was as naive as they came. He had been raised, sheltered. Away from the family business. He did not know how ruthless his brother was. 

How little Seokjin valued  human life? How fiercely possessive he was of the things he owned. 

How little he cared about what anyone else wanted? 

“No..matter what any of us wants,  because only the king gets to have what he wants “ I said sharply, “ and Kim Seokjin is the King. This is his empire. You and I , we are pawn in his court, only here to serve him as he asks us to....to give him what he wants...... And as long as he wants me , in his house and in his bed, I am bound to him. You’re risking your life , for something that may not even be real” 

“Don’t say that... Don’t you dare say that.. What we have is real... it  is  real.” He said softly. 

I stared at him, shaking my head. 

“After four years with your brother I no longer know what is real and what isn’t. “  

He stared at his feet.

“You love him. “ I said softly.

He didn’t deny it. 

“I love you more.” He said hoarsely.

I laughed a little.

“I’m sure you believe that. But the truth is he  will  kill you. He told me as much. I can’t have that on my head, Jihoon.” 

I turned away, clutching my book to my chest , as I walked away from the only person who had ever shown me any kindness. 

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

“She is in love with Jihoon.” Seokjin said casually, taking a sip of his whiskey, eyes trained on the sunset, lavishly beautiful from their position up on one the tallest towers in the estate. 

Yoongi hummed thoughtfully.

“not surprising considering you treat her like dirt.”

Seokjin grimaced.

“I don’t have time to indulge all her fairytale fantasies. She is my wife , she is honor bound to serve me and me alone.” He growled. 

Yoongi laughed.

“This isn’t the dark ages. You married her. You didn’t buy her love....” 

“then why am I still fucking paying for it. “ He snapped. “ Why am I still here, four years later, chained to her but nowhere closer to being what she wants. Why am I here, contemplating killing my own brother....? “

Yoongi shook his head. 

“Because you wasted the years when you should’ve been there for her. You left her alone in a sprawling mansion with no one to lean on and it was your brother who offered her the companionship she craved...” 

“My father had died!” Seokjin shouted, fists clenched in frustration. “ He died and he left me a crumbling, burning mess of an organization filled with traitors and opportunists. None of them were loyal to me , I had an attempt on my life every day of the fucking week...so forgive me if I couldn’t take time off to play house with a nineteen year old girl .......” 

“Its not too late.” Yoongi said softly. 

Seokjin sighed. 

“Yoongi...”

“ You’re not that man anymore, Seokjin.... You’ve done your part. You’ve built an empire even the Romans would envy and you are the one in control. She isn’t nineteen anymore either..... She’s twenty four. She knows the kind of life you lead, She will be more understanding. She hasn’t left yet so there’s no reason you shouldn’t try-” 

“She has been looking for divorce lawyers.” Seokjin whispered. “ She wants me to let her go.”

Yoongi stayed quiet.

Seokjin continued, voice laced with frustration. 

“I can’t do that. I... I don’t know what love is but I feel...something for her. Something that makes it impossible for me to contemplate a life without her.  So I can’t let her go but if I keep her life this, if I chain her to my side , she is only going farther away from me. i don’t.. i don’t know what to do.” he said helplessly. 

Yoongi nodded.

“I think its time to let Jungkook take over as the head of operations.” He said softly.

Seokjin’s eyes snapped to him. 

“What?! He’s not ready -”

“And he’ll never be ready if you don’t give him the chance to prove himself. He is intelligent , sharp and ruthless. He knows the in and out of this business like you do and he has stayed by your side since he was sixteen years old. He loves you like a brother and he is loyal to you in a way that I’ve never witnessed in my life. “

Seokjin sighed running a hand over his face. 

“So, what? I just hand things over to him and go sit in an armchair fiddling my thumbs?”

Yoongi laughed.

“No... you take a step back... see over everything and offer us your advice when we’re stuck. The way bosses all over the world function. The next time there’s an issue that needs to be dealt with, you trust  us  to deal with it, instead of turning up at an abandoned warehouse at two in the morning to break some poor college kid’s arm.” 

Seokjin nodded, taking another sip of his drink.

“And... Renae?”

“You tell her you want to build a relationship with her. Beg her for a chance if you have to and then you fix things  If you want her love, you earn it. “ 

“Is that how you earned your wife’s love?” Seokjin smirked. 

Yoongi grimaced.

“Let’s not talk about that ...’“ He grunted. 

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

When I walked into the dining room that evening, the last thing I expected was my husband, dressed to the nines and leaning against the fireplace, staring off into space. 

He straightened when he saw me and i froze in place, fear choking my insides. 

“Hi.” He said softly.

I blinked, confused.

“I was hoping to have dinner with you.”

He what?

I merely stared at him, completely thrown. 

“Unless you have other plans.” 

I pinched myself discreetly. Was I having a fever dream? Had I fallen asleep in the library?

“Say something.” He snapped and I got pulled out of my reverie. 

I swallowed.

“No.. I.. no i don’t have any plans.”

“Good. Come, let’s sit.” 

He pulled a chair out for me and i stared at him in confusion, walking over and carefully lowering myself into the seat. 

“Are you going to kill me?” I blurted out when he took the seat opposite to me. 

He stared at me in shock.

“What?! Of course not..why would you think that?” he demanded. 

I swallowed. 

“What are you doing here then.??? ..you don’t do this. Ever.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.” He said casually and I laughed in disbelief.

“I don’t know what sick game you’re trying to play with me but...”

“I’ve been neglecting you.” he said gently. 

I froze.

:” I’ve not been the kind of husband I could’ve been. And I think, I need to remedy that.”

He stared at me. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” I said shakily.

“I want to make this work. “

“This?” i said, slightly hysterical.

“Our marriage. I want to make it work.”

“I.. no. I don’t want that.. I want a-”

“DON’T!!!” He shouted, fists coming down on the table with a force that made me jump. “ Don’t ask me for a divorce. I’m not giving you one. not now, not ever.” 

I stared down at my knees, tears stinging. 

“I am trying to be more ....gentle. I want to mend things between us so you wouldn’t have to look for comfort or companionship from another man. “ 

“Please stop.” I felt sick. 

“You’re my wife Renae. And i want you to enjoy it. “ 

Nausea. Anger. Disbelief. Despair. 

Everything warred inside me and my head pounded. 

“I ....am not hungry anymore.” I choked out, stumbling to my feet and moving away and for the first time, Seokjin let me leave the room when I wanted to . 

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

Author’s Note : Well.... Feedback is appreciated as always.  leave a reply here if you wanna be on the taglist. 

[bbygenya]

aftermath 🔥

fandom: demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba

pairing: kyoujurou x reader

ratings: g for g(ood lord what have I written)eneral audiences

warnings: feelings :) 

word count: 1604

summary: just some overindulgent fluff with kyoujurou after muzan got his ass beat :)

a/n: i’m a rengoku simp (are you really surprised?) honestly I love this man with my whole chest

plus he still be alive in my heart so he’s alive after the big boss battle 😤

Your eyes trace his form as he swings the wooden sword almost expertly. Training even on an off day—nothing unusual from the Flame Pillar himself. You hope to one day be as strong as him, even though you can barely keep up with him now as it is. It’s entirely too peaceful nowadays, yet there’s still a few threats to be eliminated. The big fight had left the Pillars battered and bruised, missing a few pieces of themself in the process. You’re thankful though; thankful that Kyoujurou prevailed with minor injuries—other than losing his eye and being left with a weaker respiratory system from the wound Akaza had blessed him with.

He was still strong, still training as if the demon lord was about to walk up the walkway of the Rengoku estate. 

Yet, you can’t will yourself to convince him to stop. Training had been ingrained in him for so long, that it would probably take a while before he’s ready to lay down his sword. You think it shouldn’t be much longer; the modern era is quickly catching up with the world around you, so you’re almost sure it won’t be much longer then. 

“Is big brother still practicing?” Senjurou comes over then, sitting beside you to watch the other man swing his sword. You lean back on your hands, nodding. 

“Mhm. Old habits die hard, so I can see why,” you explain with the ghost of a smile at your lips. Senjurou nods, understanding. It’s truly going to take a while before he relaxes into the new normal. Shifting, you adjust yourself. Wincing from the soreness of your limbs as you adjust your casted leg to where it’s a bit more comfortable. In the final battle, your leg had been mangled to the point where you were sure you’d lose it, yet Shinobu and the girls at the Butterfly Mansion were sure to patch you right up and get you in the process of healing. Noticing your mild discomfort, the boy makes a noise, turning to you. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He questions, concerned. You smile, shaking your head at him. 

“It’s fine, Senjurou, really. Just adjusting to get a bit more comfortable,” you assure him. You try to mask the discomfort in your expression as best you can, wanting to shield the boy from having to deal with it, deal with you, but like his brother he’s stupidly perceptive in a way that makes you want to puff your cheeks out and huff childishly. Damn these Rengoku brothers. 

The look in his eyes tells you he doesn’t believe you, but he does nod. “Maybe you need a pillow for your leg then?” he suggests. You can’t deny him, he looks so determined!, so you sigh and smile at him. 

“Sure. Mind fetching one for me?”

The boy’s eyes brighten as he bobs his head in a nod, shifting to stand.

“Okay! Be right back!” he hurries off to fetch said pillow, and for a moment you watch him. Wondering what it’s like to be normal. You’ve been training to be a demon slayer since you were a preteen and now you wonder what life would’ve been like had you not been one? Not that Senjurou had it easier, but he hasn’t seen the same things you’ve seen. He hasn’t had to watch comrades get mauled and devoured by demons. He’s lucky he won’t ever have to, either. 

“You know, it’s not good to lie to children,”

Kyoujurou’s voice startles you, causing you to jump a little (wasn’t he just practicing?) and the surprise you show makes him chuckle. Moving to sit beside you, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple gently. 

“That’s not very nice [y/n],” he chides playfully, reaching for the water pouch he’d brought with him at the beginning of this little training session. Usually, he practices in the dojo, but today he’d decided to entertain you in the front yard. How sweet of him. You roll your eyes playfully at him, unable to not smile in his presence, then you allow your head to rest gently on his shoulder. His arm was still healing from the Akaza fight as well, and he’d regretfully had to sit the main boss battle out. He hadn’t been too happy about it, but he knew he would’ve been more of a crutch than a help. Though it had taken place months after the Infinity Train incident, the extent of his injuries kept him out for quite a while. And honestly, you wonder if that’s what drives him to train even though there’s no need to anymore.

Honestly, from what you’ve heard, he’s not the only pillar who still trains daily.

“I’m sorry, I’ll apologize,” you hum, though you know it won’t do much good. Senjurou knew you were lying and simply played along. For a moment you sigh, basking in the warmth of the moment. Your mind isn’t on demons, or fighting. Moreso on your boyfriend, and finally being able to settle down and start a family with him. It’s nice to pretend as if you two were normal from the get go, but your wounds say otherwise. As do the nightmares that plague you both. It’s going to take a while for your mentalities to settle enough to try to figure out what “normal” is, but you’re sure it won’t be too hard.

“I’m back!” Senjurou joins you two, pillow in hand as he moves to set it gently underneath your wrapped leg. Patting it for good measure but sits on the other side of you, hands in his lap as he watches both you and Kyoujurou and smiles happily. He’s thankful that his brother is alive, and is thankful that you’re here with them as well and it shows.

“Thank you Senjurou, that feels a lot better,” it really does; the softness of the pillow is very welcomed. Beside you, Kyoujurou shifts a little to get comfortable, glancing over at his brother for a moment and seems to get an idea. 

“Senjurou! Could you go grab those snacks Kanroji-san sent us?” he questions. “I would go, but I’m a bit worn out from training,” he admits sheepishly, cheeks a little pink. It frustrates him to know that his stamina isn’t the same; at the cost of his life he’d ben injured in such a way that had really impacted him in such a way that in the first few months it was hard. It was so hard, but he’s slowly adjusting to the changes. You’re quite the help with that, and his motivation to keep going at it. Though he’d just gotten back from fetching the pillow, at the mention of snacks, he perks. 

“Okay! I’ll be right back!” he shoots up and jogs off, causing both you and Kyoujurou to laugh gently. How cute—he’s just like Kyoujurou sometimes, you think to yourself.

An arm wraps around your waist and you lean into it, allowing yourself to be gently pulled closer. Kyoujurou tips his head to brush his nose against the crown of your head, sighing as he buries himself into the sweet scent of your [scent] hair, finding comfort in it. He too is surprised he’s still alive, but thanks the gods everyday they allowed him to continue living with you, happily. You don’t mind this and in fact you turn a little, carefully of your leg, to snuggle into his side, which doesn’t help how he nearly pulls you into his lap, simply wanting to hold you and have you close to him. 

“I know I haven’t really talked about it, but when I fought that demon on the train, I was so scared,” he says, voice soft for once. He very rarely speaks softly—he’s such a loud man sometimes you find yourself wanting to smack your hand over his pretty mouth—so when he does lower his voice like this, you’re inclined to listen. “I was scared I’d never see you again, never see my father or Senjurou either. I really thought,” he sighs softly, tightening his hold on you. “I really thought when I saw my mother that it was over. I wanted to go with her but. . .at the same time, I wanted to stay here with you all as well. It was really hard, debating over where I should go, but she’s the one who told me that my time here wasn’t finished,” you know this yourself. When they’d gotten to Kyoujurou, he’d bled out so much that he needed multiple blood transfusions. He was in a coma for weeks, and you’re sure at one point he did die. And hearing this confirms it. Your eyes water thinking of how lonely you would’ve been had he not here, of how quiet the Rengoku estate would be had his loud laughter ceased to fill the halls. It would’ve been so hard to move on without him, so you’re very thankful his mother helped him come back to you. He must sense you’re on the verge of tears, because he pulls back to look down at you, tilting your chin up so that you’re both looking each other in the eye. 

“Ah, darling please don’t cry,” he sounds almost pained to know that you’re upset—or that you seem upset. The tears fall, but he’s quick to wipe them away. You sniffle, feeling pitiful for a moment. 

“Sorry. I’m just really happy you came back,” you say, voice cracking. He finds himself smiling despite the fact that you’re crying, and ducks down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Me too.”

-x

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 5 - Revelations in the Moonlight

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

Summary: Will Javier reach you in time? That is if he’s coming at all.

Notes: sorry this keeps getting longer and longer! This is the second to last part I hope y’all enjoy it (if not let me know how to improve!) 💕🌻✨

Tw: 18+ (NO MINORS ALLOWED) Violence, blood, language, nudity.

Tagged: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot @trash-dino-5000

Words: 3.7k

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Your eyes flutter open as you feel flecks of cold water bounce off your cheek. Your pupils dilate into the fluorescent lighting bearing down on you, and a dull throb begins at the base of your skull. You go to rub the ache, but your hands are tugged backwards at the movement causing your shoulders to stretch around the pillar you were currently being tied to. Your eyes scan the area landing on the two men from earlier who stand guard at the doors of what you assume must be the mansion's basement.

“Carlos...What the fuck is going on?” you rasp out, miraculously remembering to maintain your accent.

“I could ask you the same question?” he snarls. Feeling his meaning you hold your tongue, waiting to see what he knows. “You know why you’re here?” He asks, taking a sinister step towards you.

“Carlos I can honestly say, I don’t have the foggiest,” you respond, the metallic taste in your mouth worsening the growing nausea caused by the lights.

“The painting, the one you gave me, was stopped at the border yesterday. The first time it’s happened in years. Some of my best men were taken, they're dead now of course. Loose ends have to be tied up. The painting, and its components were taken by the DEA. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” he snarls. You do your best to maintain your facade, though a panic has set in. “Still not getting it?” he queries, taking your face between his hands forcing your eyes up to him. “Maybe you are as dumb as you look. Let's try a different approach, shall we? Why would this painting be stopped? After years without issue, then you show up and in one day, our program has been compromised.” he continues, letting go of your cheeks and swinging your head out to the side as he walks back over to his desk.

“Statistics dictate…. “ you start, not turning back to face.

“Shut up!” he shouts, slamming his hand down onto the desk, causing your body to flinch into the stone pillar.

“Carlos let me go, I do not know what happened or what was with those paintings, I thought they were for your friend. Why were they taken?” You try and reason frantically.

“See I do not know that, my wifes convinced you're too convenient, and after today I’d have to agree. Ohhh…” he tuts in mocking sympathy, noticing the waiver in your voice “Don't worry cariño, all shall be revealed soon, I wouldn’t dare keep you in suspense. I had a man deliver a message to your supposed husband. He has 15 minutes to show up here alone or we kill you.” he states flatly, pulling a small pistol out of his desk, checking the barrel.

You swallow, leaning your head back against the pillar, 15 minutes, that's how long it was from the DEA’s main office to the house. That's how long it would take for a SWAT team to get here and catch Carlos, but not to save you. A cleverly crafted plan, no doubt administered by Helena, heavens knows Carlos wasn't capable. You can’t help but let out a tiny laugh, as you blink back tears, making your peace as you prepared to meet your maker. If there was one thing you knew about Peña it was that he would do anything to catch Escobar.

“Five minutes left darling, any last minute confessions?” He says now inches away, staring down at you.

“Carlos, please, I didn't do this.” you beg, playing your final hand.

“We shall see. A shame to waste such beauty, but ….” He brushes your cheekbone with the gun and you close your eyes. They open as the sound of doors swinging open echoes throughout the basement. Looking towards the sound you see a sweaty and enraged Peña emerging. You’d never more happy to be seeing his stupid face. You exhale shakily cursing yourself for nearly bursting into tears when his eyes meet yours. Immediately he starts towards you, one of the men places a hand on his chest, but a swift uppercut breaks the guys nose and the other two henchmen retract allowing him to make his way behind you.

“Are you hurt, my love?” he asks, frantically untying your wrists that were rubbed raw from where you had worked to free them. You shake your head no. He unties your hands and you feel yourself unravel with the cord, as your entire system begins to shut down. “I’ve got you” he whispers, as you fall into his arms.

“Now, friend, come let us chat for a moment,” Carlos says, almost as surprised as you that Javi had shown up.

“No, I don't talk with people who kidnap the only thing in my life that matters” he spits, hooking his arm under yours and starting slowly towards the door. You're almost out when you hear the unmistakable sound of the safety being turned off. You both turn to see Carlos aiming the gun at you.

“You passed information?” he sneers more of a question than a statement.

“Think Carlos,” he snarls through gritted teeth, “You never gave me any information,you asked for a painting and we provided, you never told me more.” After a few minutes you hear Carlos click the safety back into place as he lowers his weapon.

“You’re right. We thought perhaps we had been infiltrated but it seems like someone else has been leaking information. My wife was wrong for the last time.” he mutters, tossing the gun back into its drawer.

“We’re free to go then?” Javi fumes, the rage he felt towards Carlos seeping out of every pore. With a curt nod, the two men clear the door and Javi scoops you up and carries you out the house and down across the beach where the moon had risen high. You look over his shoulder, and back towards the house. You make out Helena's outline on the balcony watching you as you leave.

“I should have gone with you” he whispers as he places you down onto your feet at the front step so he can open the door. You waiver for a moment, but you're quickly steadied by Peñas hand supporting your waist as you lean into him. He hadn’t had time to assess the damage but the moonlight illuminated the blood coming from your lip and forehead. Wounds caused by his incompetence, by his failure to assess the situation.

“Then we'd both be dead” you respond walking into the kitchen and stupidly lifting yourself up onto the counter, the movement causing every ounce of your body to exude with pain, eyes watering as a result. Despite your attempt to mask your pain, it did not go unnoticed by Javi. Based on everything he knew about you, he figured you’d try and play down your injuries, but based on your expressions he knew the visible blood wasn’t the only damage done.

‘Hey, don't strain yourself,” he says, watching you grimace when you lean over to take off your shoes. You go to shift off the counter. “No, don't move now, you're already up there,” he continues, bending down and taking off the shoes for you, tossing them to the side before rummaging through the cabinet for the first aid kit. He passes you the bottle of tequila that was blocking the kit. You bring it to your lips, hoping it would help mask some of your pain.

“We have to get you to a hospital” he says, as he tilts your head gently from side to side seeing darkening areas around your forehead. Dried blood covered your hairline and your mouth.

“No then the mission will be ruined, beside i'm still breathing and no blood’s been coughed up, so nothing’s punctured” you murmur, your breathing was fine as well, albeit painful, but no wheezing. There was nothing that needed immediate care.

“What?” he says, glancing down to your side, increasingly concerned with each passing comment. Your eyes dart up to the ceiling, not wanting to burden him anymore than you already had “Show me.” he demands softly.

“It's fine Javi,” you try and reason, not wanting to put any additional stress on the man, knowing he’d already be blaming himself for your injuries.

“Show me,” he repeats, firm this time, but his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, “that's an order” he muses, causing you to roll your eyes.

“It hurts to lift my arms” you admit, he nods and slowly removes the straps of the dress pulling it down to your waist immediately identifying a concerning dark patch covering your entire left side. You didn't look down, you knew it was probably internal bleeding but, you didn't want that information to get back to Javi.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he whispers, amazed that you were still conscious let alone rolling your eyes at him. He pulls out a bag of ice from the freezer wrapping it in a tea towel and placing it gently on your side.

“Hold that there for a second,” he says, turning back to the freezer for more ice.

“He's going to kill Helena, we should try and get her out” you reason, shifting the ice around.

“How hard do you hit your head querida?” He laughs “She's the one who ratted us out and you're worried about her?” He continues, bringing the ice up to your forehead. You shrug wincing as your side is inadvertently pulled on by the motion. “For someone with such an ability to hold a grudge you're certainly very forgiving when you want to be”

“C’mon Peña, you know she's doing it to survive, she doesn't deserve to die. Besides she may have information she's willing to trade ” you offer, Helena was no angel, but she was definitely useful.

“After what they did to you? They don’t deserve to live, not in my book,.” he says, placing the ice back down on the counter as he takes a damp cloth and begins to wipe some of the blood off your face. You laugh, presuming he’s kidding, but when you look at him, he's not laughing, there's no trace of humour on his face. His head’s down as he wipes your face. He looks... vulnerable, visibly upset by what's happened to you, almost like he cared about you. Had he this whole time and you were too busy being angry at him to notice? Angry about something so stupid in the grand scheme of things. His eyes meet yours and you find your answer, their softness only confirming your current feeling.

“What wrong querida?” he asks, his free hand caressing your cheek. Your hearts beating out of your chest. How can he not hear it? You're sure everyone within a 50 mile radius could. You bring your hand up to his pressing it against your cheek hoping to convey the sudden onslaught of feelings you were having. He stares back into your eyes, not willing to try anything without your full permission, a hand hold wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the proof he needed to kiss you like he'd been wanting to for the past four weeks, hell, the past year.

You drop your hands and run them along his shoulders encouraging him forward. He doesn't drop the ice he's holding to your side, and using his free hand he pulls you closer to him. Your faces now centimeters apart and each of your breaths shallower than the next.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

“What about the contract?” he says, making sure this was what you wanted.

“Fuck the contract,” you say and with that you press a gentle kiss to his lips, pulling away when you don’t feel him kiss back. You keep your eyes closed wondering if you had misread his meaning? His thumb traces over your split lip gently pulling your chin towards him for a deeper kiss, warm . You smile into it and he goes to close the gap between. Lost in the moment, his grip becomes rougher than intended and he feels you flinch away from him.

“Fuck, i'm sorry,” he says, pulling back and placing a kiss on the area before reapplying the ice

“We should get you to bed, before I do any serious damage” he says, and you nod your head in agreement, allowing him to carry you back to the room bridal style. He places you on the bed, but noticing the blood stuck in your hair he makes you an offer you can't refuse.

“You wanna wash that blood out of your hair? Might make you feel better,” he says. You nod silently, too tired to speak, and Javi leaves to run you a bath. He helps you lower yourself into the tub and begins to rinse the blood out your hair, hands slowly massaging your scalp and running down from roots to end the runoff staining the water a light pink. He glances down and sees your eyes staring up at him, your lips pursed slightly, silently hoping he’d read your mind and kiss you again.

“Gotta stop looking at me like that” he chuckles, and you let out a small grunt.

“You want something darling?” he asks, and you extend your neck out, parting your lips expectedly causing him to smile “you want more kisses cariño? From me? They gonna make you feel better?” He asks.

You nod causing him to grin as he washes the last of the blood out of your hair before leaning down to pepper your lips with light kisses pulling back and chuckling at the small humph you make in his absence.

“What?” you murmur sleepily

“Last thing I thought i'd get to do was kiss you” he admits, turning off the shower head.

“You thought about it a lot, Peña?” you tease, feeling better now you weren't plastered in your own blood.

“Every day,” he confesses “every time I’d walk into your lab and you’d ignore me,” He continues lifting you up out of the tub and toweling you off.

“You want pyjamas?” he asks.

“Just want to sleep” you murmur, shaking off the towel and crawling under the linen sheets.

“Okay i'll get the lights, call me if you need anything, i'll just be next door,” he says, preparing to sleep on the couch.

“Javi…” you whisper, as the lights go out.

“Yes” he responds, turning around, overjoyed at the sound of his first name coming from your lips.

“Stay with me” you plead,

“As long as you want,” he says, crawling in under the sheets with you allowing you to settle around him comfortably, not closing his own eyes until the faint sound of your snoring starts up.

You shoot up in bed as the sound of gunshots ring out through the night. You turn quickly and see the imprint of where Javi had been before you fell asleep. Stumbling out the bed, you grab a nearby lamp, the pain from your side dulled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you descend the stairs.

“Javi” you whisper-yell frantically, wielding the lamp as you turn the corner. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see his figure on the balcony, placing the lamp down on the counter. The sound causes Javi to turn around and he rushes towards you grabbing you by the shoulder.

“What was the gunshot? Are you okay?” you ask running your hands over him scanning for an entry wound.

“Im fine dulzura, im fine. Go back to bed,” he whispers, with a tone indicating that everything was not fine.

“Helena?” you ask eyes wide.

“I don’t know” he lies, “We'll figure it out tomorrow.” he continues trying to sooth you, despite knowing exactly who was at the other end of that bullet.

“Tomorrow?” you whisper.

“If we go over there now, he’ll kill us both, if he's not already on his way to do it now. Go back into the bedroom, lock the door, do not open it for anyone. I'll keep watch” he says, more serious than you’d ever heard him.

“Stay with me.” you plead, not willing to lose Javi now that you had him.

“No, they put me with you to keep you safe, that’s what I'm going to do, that's what you're going to let me do.” he says, escorting your back up the stairs to the bedroom, not leaving until he hears the lock click into place.

Your eyes open as the mid morning sun seeps in through the cracks of the curtains reminding you of the events from the night prior. Quietly, but quickly, you get out of bed and unlock the door, holding your breath as you tip-toe down the stairs, turning the corner you exhale upon seeing Peña sitting on a chair gun in hand facing the door. He glances at you once, then again, he was over tired and on edge from being up all night.

“You should get some sleep, I'll keep an eye out,” you offer, going over to him and taking the gun from his hand, placing it down on the coffee table.

“How are the ribs?” he asks, reaching back for the gun.

“Broken, but fine,” you say, grabbing his hand in yours to stop it.

“That’s an oxymoron, you need to see a doctor,” he responds rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

“And you need to sleep, If he hasn’t killed us yet I think we're in the clear,'' you say, beginning to pull him up. He gives in and gets up himself, knowing you're only making your ribs worse. He lifts your chin and sleepily kisses you before heading off into the bedroom, leaving you with a gun that you didn't know how to use. You begin to cook breakfast leaving a plate in the fridge for Javi when he wakes up, you hoped the DEA would be extracting you soon. The situation was already volatile, you didn't want it to become explosive when the second painting was stopped. As you're cleaning up the dishes you hear a faint knock at the door. Your heart drops, and you look over to the door, letting out a shaky breath as you place the pan down in the sink. You open the door to Carlos who's standing before you looking charismatic as ever. You want to call out for Peña but you know it'll only make the situation more suspicious.

“Carlos,” you say taking a step back, crossing your arms over your chest

“You did not go to the hospital?” he asks, eyes scanning over your body as he speaks

“We don’t trust hospitals,” you offer up.

“Or the police? Kidnapping is a very serious crime after all.” he muses, smiling down at you.

“If we don’t trust hospitals, why would we go to the police? They’re a bunch of incompetent fuckers. Besides, they don’t need to know about the counterfeit work I've been doing on the side,” you offer, as you hear the sound of Javi descending the stairs. It had only been a moment but it felt like forever when Javi finally showed up at your side, quickly putting distance between you and Carlos.

“Get out. You may have built this house but we bought it, leave.” he spits

“Listen…” Carlos chides.

“You think you can break my wifes ribs and I will welcome you back with open arms? That I would listen to you, no, no, no….” he laughs.

“Darling... '' you say, trying to get his attention, but he's not done.

“Get out, do not come back, we’ll be moving shortly. As I said before we like to keep decent company and it seems we’ve run out of it here.”

“Darling.. that’s quite enough, Carlos apologies please do go on.” You interject. You can practically see the steam coming off Javi when you say it, his eyes wide as he turns back to face you.

“Thank you querida, I came to offer my sincerest apologies, I was mistaken in my belief that you were federal, misinformation is like a disease. It festers, rots your brain, I let Helena rot mine. As a result we will be moving for a time, we suggest you two do the same, police will be sniffing around here soon enough”

“Wait” you say, exiting into your art room returning shortly after with the portrait “here. The last counterfeit you had asked for, it rough but passable. Think of it as a farewell gift” He takes it and just like that he was gone, out of your lives for good.

*************************************************

The two of you sit in the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs in the ER’s waiting room, you'd been there for a few hours now, mainly sitting in silence, still trying to process what was going on.

“She's dead because of us,” you finally whisper out, Helena hadn’t left your mind since the gunshots had sung out last night, “We could have tried to get her out, she could have had information,”

“Then the whole operation would be gone, and this all would have been for nothing,” Javi responds in an attempt to unburden you of your guilt. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and pull you into him, to kiss your pain away, but you were back to the real world and the rules were different here, less clear to him.

“She was telling the truth and she still died. Do you realize how fucked up that is,” you state, emotionlessly staring off into space unable to process how you were feeling, or not wanting to, knowing it could result in everything flooding out of you.

“It’s just part of the job, they think the paintings can be linked to Escobar which is the only thing that matters.The only thing good that came out of all this pain is that were one step closer to catching the bastard” he reassures, not realizing the meaning of the words he was speaking.

“The only thing Javi?”, you question, unable to believe that everything between you had meant nothing to him.

“Ya, the only thing, in the end,” he says, turning just in time to catch the look on your face, only then realizing what he was implying. He opens his mouth to explain that what he had just said was not what he meant, but the doctor calls your name and you stand up quickly, walking ahead leaving him in the dust. He looks from the chair then to the exit, weighing his options.

[irisofpurple]

Hi there! This week’s newlywed’s round will be a short one (but hopefully a fun one). This week we’re playing:

What Would They Rather?

Note: The setting is back to Ethan x MC being married/together. They have to guess what their partner would choose from the options. Dialogue is entirely up to you!

MC, what would Ethan rather?

Beer or Wine

A Cruise or Camping

Horror Movie or Chick Flick

Stay at home or Go out in the rain

Get up early or Stay up late

Ethan, what would MC rather?

Cook dinner or Do the dishes

Diamonds or Pearls

Live in the city or Live in the country

Walk on the beach or Dance in the club

Travel overseas or Explore locally

MC, what would Ethan rather?

Beer or Wine

Lana: If those are the only choices, he'd definitely pick wine. I'm trying to get him into Team Beer but it's hard to get him to drink anything other than his fancy scotch.

Ethan: *smirks* More like she's Team Scotch now.

Lana: *rolls her eyes* I've always been a whiskey girl, long before I met you but I'm not as obsessed with it as you are. Also, I couldn't afford the fancy stuff in my college days so beer was my best bet.

Ethan: I'll admit beer isn't the worst choice but..

Lana: Oh my God. Approval! After all these years! Victoryy! *gets up and does a victory dance*

Ethan: *shakes his head and watches her with an amused smile*

A Cruise or Camping

Lana: Definitely camping.

Ethan: *beams at her* Lana is a nature lover. We went cruising on our honeymoon in Paris which we definitely enjoyed a lot, but the camping experience when I proposed to her remains far superior and closer to our hearts.

Lana: Sleeping under the stars.. feeling like we're the only people on earth.. it was magical.

Ethan: Indeed. But not more than you.

Horror Movie or Chick Flick

Lana: *thoughtfully* I'd say horror because I've caught him sneakily watch me play Resident Evil 7.

Ethan: *blushing in surprise and embarrassment* That's- that's because the protagonist character is called Ethan.

Lana: *smirks* You must've watched quite a bit to even know that.

Ethan: Hrm.

Lana: *bats her lashes at him* Would you fight a haunted house full of monsters to rescue me? Even if I was turned into one of them?

Ethan: *angrily* Why would you ever say such a thing?!

*softens and laces his fingers with hers, looking into her eyes and swallowing*

Ethan: You know I'd go through hell and back for you. I- I've been pretty close to losing you once, I hate to even think about it.

Lana: *kisses him passionately* I love you. I'm so sorry.

Ethan: *gently kisses her forehead*

Lana: *wiping away tears and perking up* You know this reminds me of the first time you took me to the Opera, the story of Damarion and Alessandra. You held my hand and narrated their tragic love story to me.

Ethan: You held my hand while I was trying to be a gentleman and help you understand it.

Lana: Same thing. *pecks on his cheek*

Stay at home or Go out in the rain

Lana: Stay at home, while it's pelting down outside. It's the perfect mood for our favourite adult activities. *winks*

Ethan: Why get wet like that when there's a perfectly nice shower in bathroom?

Lana: That's it. The next time there's a downpour in Boston, I'm taking you dancing in the rain.

Ethan: No.

Lana: Come on. You'll love it, I swear. It's the best feeling.

Ethan: I'd rather stay home and not catch a cold.

Lana: You won't. I'll convince you one way or another. Just you watch. *smiles devilishly*

Get up early or Stay up late

Lana: Get up early, unless I keep him up late. *winks*

Ethan: *blushes deeply*

Ethan, what would MC rather?

Cook dinner or Do the dishes.

Ethan: She hates doing dishes so definitely cook dinner. She's a really good cook once she's learnt the recipe thoroughly.

Lana: But he's far better than me so he's the head chef at Ramsey Mansion.

Diamonds or Pearls

Ethan: She doesn't care much about jewellery but I know she prefers diamonds.

Lana: *singing expressively* Shine bright like a diamond.. Find light in the beautiful sea, I choose to be happy. You and I, you and I.. we're like diamonds in the sky.. *keeps humming*

Ethan: *shrugs with a knowing smile* Yeah.

Live in the city or Live in the country

Ethan: She loves the country but sadly we can't live too far away from work.

Lana: I grew up in my grandparents' farmhouse before dad moved us to Houston. I am not complaining but a country life is much more wholesome and closer to nature. I do love it here in Boston though. Home is where the heart is and my heart is with Ethan so...

Walk on the beach or Dance in the club

Ethan: Walk on the beach. We had a beach wedding at Miami with family and close friends. Beaches have a special place in our hearts.

Lana: I'm not really into the club scene much but I do like hanging out with my friends in the club every now and again. And I love dancing. But given a choice, I'd rather spend a quiet evening in the beach with my husband. Bonus points if it's private so we aren't interrupted if we... *glances at a blushing Ethan* ...get carried away.

Travel overseas or Explore locally

Ethan: Both.

Lana: Exactly. Why choose one when you can have both right? There's always some cool place to discover in town. But travelling abroad is a whole different experience. I have a long travel list and I very much intend to get to the end of it.

Ethan: And afterwards?

Lana: Add more and repeat, of course!

I apologise for taking literally forever to this. I mean this was the shortest ask so far but it took me the longest somehow. Thank you so much Bree for sending these and bearing with me. 💕

Tags: @lem-20 @pixie88 @aleynareads @maurine07 @whimsicallywayward15 @lovingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @txemrn @shewillreadyou @aussieez @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @imaneditorthankyouverymuch @mercury84choices @thegreentwin @adiehardfan @custaroonie @headoverheelsforramsey @dorisz @chemist-ana

[prose-for-hire]

How btvs characters would celebrate Christmas with a s/o:

A/N: This is based on the premise that the reader loves Christmas. I am going to start the 12 days on the 14th of December leading up to Christmas day (just cos of my circumstances lol but we can pretend I planned it that way) !! ❄🖤

Buffy:

-  Likes Christmas and the time of year, but like every holiday has had a bad experience

-  You spend as much time as you can convincing her to stay in and watching Christmas tv with you

-  But insists she had to patrol

-  Even though she definitely would rather be with you

-  So you suggest a walk to get her in the spirit

-  To have a look at all the cool decorations and lights on people’s houses

-  That way she can patrol and spend time with you at the same time

- She’ll say she always likes your company patrolling

-  So you excitedly get wrapped up and get ready for quality time

- She will hold your hand the entire time

-  Only letting go if she has to fight something

- You insist that you both stop and look at every house.

- You rate the houses and laugh at each others criteria

-  one of Buffy’s main reasons for marking a house down was that the light meant it was easier to be seen by any adversaries

- she did like your trip to look at the lights though

- just spending this time with you

- allows her to relax

- just enjoy some simple joy

- any time with you is her favourite

- the weight of everything would crush her without you

- these walks start to become a tradition as you discuss the kind of lights you would have on your house when you share together eventually

- Will call it the most wonderful time of the year

-  Both sarcastically and quietly to herself when she sees your face lit up under the christmas lights

Spike:

-  Of course he likes Christmas

- Loves it

-  Lots of plump humans to eat this time of year

-  People have more money in their pockets for him to ‘borrow’

-  Not to mention the Christmas specials

-  Never misses one

- And he makes it very clear that you shouldn’t be missing any either

- Near threatens you

- Insists it’s a dealbreaker

- But if you did happen to miss one he would still give you an overview of what happened in minute detail

- To entice you to spend more time in with him, he would allow you to decorate the crypt

- Complains the entire time but secretly loves it

- Comments that he thinks the tinsel would look better like this

- It makes you giggle but you put it where he says

- Best decoration supervisor ever

- You think of making him a pin that says it

-  But you know you’d get one of those withering looks

- Doesn’t really fit the theme of the room anymore

- He loves the new and improved Christmas crypt

- because now wherever he looks, there’s something that reminds him of you

- Even more than usual

- Another thing he enjoys doing is setting up the living space

- He makes it so it cannot be described in any other word than cosy

- Blankets, mountains of cushions

- If he could get a roaring fire installed he would

-  His favourite time is when he has you alone

- In the glow of the Christmas lights and the low buzzing of the tv

- Whispers in your ear that you’re his favourite thing to unwrap

- Thinks his wordplay was very clever

-  Even more so when you forget about the film and get wrapped up in each other

Angel:

- Doesn’t really like Christmas

- But he loves you so he’ll pretty much agree to anything

- So long as he doesn’t feel stupid

- (aka he will not dress up as santa. Don’t ask again nobody wants an argument on Christmas day)

- You do different activities

-  Coffee shops with festive drinks, you find and decorate a tree you even convince him to bake a Christmas cake with you

-  And he loves seeing you happy but you can tell he’s a little deflated

- You snuggle up to him in the mansion

- Just happy in each others company

- (and tired after all your activities)

- You hear a feint humming that was getting louder and louder

- Carol singers come to the door and you wince expecting his face to be set or his eyes to be rolling

- But when you look up you become a little bemused

- His face has spread in such a wide smile

- He was moving his head in time with the music

-  You can’t believe it

- It’s the first time he actually seemed to be enjoying something and not just humouring you

- You ask and he explains it reminds him of being much younger

- Hearing singers in the streets

- Traditional songs

-  You take his hand, kissing the back softly before pulling him to the door

- You open the door and smile at the group who start to sing louder

- You lean into Angel and he wraps an arm around you, transfixed by the song

- You gesture to him but he shakes his head.

- You ask if they know one of the traditional songs he mentioned

- And they (by some Christmas miracle) do

- He grinned from ear to ear and you listened happily

Willow:

- She’s jewish (and makes it clear every year without fail that she doesn’t want to worship santa)

- So doesn’t exactly celebrate

-  But if you really love the holiday, she won’t deny you of festivities

- Just steer clear of the grotto in the mall

- She will mutter about santa under her breath for the rest of the shopping trip

- You do offer a compromise, that you sort of mix festivities together

- And you definitely swap presents, it doesn’t have to be a special occasion to give your girl gifts

-  But it’s a nice excuse

-  She’s very affectionate and enjoys the cosy aspect of the holiday

- You face each other in bed under the blankets

-  Whispering and gazing into each other’s eyes

- You could stay there forever

- You fall asleep like that

-  Entwined together

-  She wakes up early and sneaks to the kitchen

-  Making you a special breakfast

- Its your favourite with a little Christmas cracker on the tray she brought

-  She smiles so wide as if she’s waiting for something

- You squint and offer the cracker

- You pull it and a little gift pops out

- She insists its yours

- You open it

-  And gasp, it’s a ring

-  She babbles, unable to stop talking hoping that you understand

-  That you feel the same

- And of course you do

-  It really is the most magical time of year

- Because this is the anniversary of when she proposed

- Using a Christmas cracker

- You basically tackled her and showered her with kisses

- Pulling her into bed with you

- Where you spend the rest of the day together in bed, with Christmas songs playing low in the background

Xander:

- Will love how much you like Christmas

-  He was kind of on the fence about the whole thing

- (it had never been a great time of year with his family)

- But when you gushed about how much you enjoy it he absolutely stepped into christmas

- He had liked you for a really long time

- You had been casually dating but he wanted something more

- He just didn’t know how to ask

- You went everywhere together

- You took a daytrip to the Christmas market

- He wasn’t himself, he had been pitting pressure on himself to ask

- You spen the day worrying if he was trying to dump you

- But you still managed to enjoy some of the market together

- A week later, it had become too much

- He had to say it

- Or he would explode

- “Will you be, uh, mine? Not just for Christmas… for y’know at least the rest of the year” he joked

- This was the sweetest, most Xander way of saying what you had both felt for so long

-  You nodded enthusiastically

- Not able to hide the smile

- It was all you had wanted for christmas

- You look up, seeing the mistletoe for the first time

- You look back at him and he grinned

- You both lean in, your lips meeting

- Not for the first time, but this time was special

- A revelation like you were kissing for the first time

- It was the best Christmas gift you could have wished for

Anya:

- Loves Christmas

- It’s a capitalists dream

- And she’s determined to soak up every corporate moment of it

- She enjoys receiving gifts but she writes a very extensive list that she expects people to stick to

- Luckily you know her inside out and get her a gift she cherishes as much as she does you

- You invite her to have Christmas day with you, seeing as she has no surviving relatives

- But realises she has never experienced a family Christmas

- And wants to know what the big deal is

- She smiles and nods

- You bring her to the place you’re staying and introduce her to the people you choose to spend the holidays with

- She struggles to get along with everyone at first

- Nobody is used to her right away

- Kit can take time to understand her bluntness isn’t malicious

- She steps outside into the cold

- Thinking, frustrated thinking she was being left out again

- Secretly sensitive over not fitting in

- But you come and join her

- Reassuring her and hugging her from behind

- She moves into you rubbing her hands along your arms

- Explaining and sighing

-  You take her hand, bringing her further into the garden

- You whisper, explain that if she isn’t happy you can travel back to Sunnydale no matter how far away it was

- You want her to be comfortable

- You even would start a new tradition of celebrating just you and her if she would prefer it

-  Turns to look at you and at the house

-  Shakes her head

-  Explains that she just wanted things to be perfect for you and they hadn’t been

-  And you insist that as long as she’s happy it is perfect

- And she nodded

- All your favourite people are together

- You smile at each other, both satisfied

- Flakes of snow start to fall slowly around you

- She squealed, looking around

- You kiss, surrounded by the thick flakes

- Hearing everyone you loved calling you both to come in

Giles:

- Doesn’t have the best track record with Christmas

- It didn’t hold the best memories for him

- Prefers a more understated affair

- (rather than masses of people and being stuffed to the brim with food)

- Just wants to spend the season with you and him

- With a cosy fire going and warm drinks in the evenings

- You decorate the tree together

- You stop every so often, not able to help yourself kissing him

- He’s in such a good mood you just want this time to last forever

- There were no demons getting in your way

- No research he had to do

-  You even managed to convince him to watch one of those cheesy Christmas romcoms

- (he insisted he didn’t enjoy it, but he cuddled up to you while you watched)

- You spend a lot of time together, never getting tired

- Your happiest moments are when you are together

- You decide to do some Christmas baking

- He digs out some great recipes for you and he strums his guitar lazily as you prep the kitchen

- You make mince pies together

-  Laughing and chatting as you throw flour around the kitchen and he tries his best o clear up as he goes along

- He plays some Christmas songs as you wait for the goodies to cook

-  You hum along to the songs as he sings

-  He smiles, he loves it when you join in

- The smell of the baking invokes strong memories of being at home for Christmas

- He insists one day he wants to take you to England for the season

-  Thinks you would enjoy seeing where he’s from

-   And wants to share that part of himself with you

-  Wants you to know him

Cordy:

- Really enjoys Christmas

-  You watch Christmas movies together

- All snuggled up under the softest blankets

- She gets them shipped in

- She gives the best cuddles

-  And has a million scented candles for every mood and occasion

- The Christmas ones are the best

- She starts talking non-stop about the biggest event of the season

-You were new to town and didn’t know anything about it

- There was some winter ball that Sunnydale High held every year

- The theme was winter wonderland

- And everyone dressed up

- You were apprehensive but she insisted that she couldn’t have fun without you

- She helped you get dressed and kissed you excitedly

- There wasn’t a spot on your face that hadn’t been brushed lovingly by her lips

- You arrived and had the best time

- The decorations were beautiful

- There were ice sculptures and beautifully crafted décor

- Cordelia explained her father made a donation to make the event more tasteful

- You voted for the winter wonderland royalty

- As the night went on you couldn’t help watching her

- Smiling and laughing

- Never able to keep her eyes off you though no matter what was going on

- Santa announced the winners at the end of the night

- You won wonderland royalty

-  She was expecting it but you were surprised

- She insisted it was because you were both so attractive together

- But really, everyone could see how in love you were

- They cheered as you got crowned and you turned and kissed Cordelia on the stage

- When you go to her house at the end of the night, you collapse into bed together

- Your fancy clothes still on as you huddled together thanking your lucky Christmas star that you met her

Oz:

- Indifferent on Christmas as a whole

- But very big on doing good deeds at this time of year

- But doesn’t tell anyone

- You were Christmas shopping trying to find something for him

- It was your first Christmas as an official couple so you wanted the gift to be perfect

- You spot him outside collecting for charity

- You smile and wave and think you detect a look of embarrassment

- Quickly hides his sheepishness

- But he nods at you as you stand next to him with your shopping bags

- You ask how long he’s been doing this and he just shrugs

- But when you ask if you could join him sometime his eyes lit up

- (but of course he just says how much he would like it with his face still completely neutral)

- He leans in and pulls you into him, hugging you and kissing your temple

- You turn up the next week he was worried you would bail

- He had been ecstatic you wanted to come

- After a few hours he can’t help grinning at you like an idiot

- Oz holds your hand, looking down at the way they were interlocked

- He loved seeing you like this

- Expressing his affection this way meant a lot to him

- You meant a lot to him

-  He had so much he wanted to say, mostly that you fit so well together

- But he knew nothing he could say would cover it

- All he knew was he wanted you to stay with him. By his side

- Instead, he opted to buy you your favourite hot drink after you had finished up

- You went to the Espresso Pump

- He knew your order by heart and insisted on paying

- As a thank you for joining him

- He is so effortlessly cool but you can tell it meant a lot to him

- And you were glad, because spending time with him is the best

- It became a Christmas tradition

- Even after you moved to LA together, you continued to commit your time to do charity work and spend as much time together as you could

- You were made for each other

Faith:

- Not used to celebrating

- Used to hate this time of year

- But she’s slowly warming up to it

- She tries to avoid anything too cheesy

-  Won’t be a big fan of gushing

- But she will definitely humour you if it makes you happy

- Can be the softest ever if you’re her person

- Will take a very long time figuring out the perfect gift

- Wants it to be decent for you

- Won’t decorate the motel room but will allow you to put on one (1) Christmas movie on

-  So pick a good one

- You can tell she enjoys it, even more when she finds out its one of your favourites

- Will slowly move closer as the film plays

-  Eventually cuddling into you

- You smile, but don’t say anything

- You don’t want her to move away

- After the movie, the afternoon still stretches before you

- You have an idea

- So you step out and insist you’ll be back

- You hit the craft store and the local supermarket

- And come back with armfuls of bags

- You have crafts and music and tons of snacks

- You insist you’re having a party

- Just you and her

- She smiles and shakes her head but she enjoys herself

- You make baubles and Christmas decorations for your house (she still insists she doesn’t want any in the motel)

- You listen to music and share the snacks

- She throws some crisps (or chips if u insist) at you for making her do something so cheesy

- When you leave to go home and decorate, she feels a little lonely

- But looks on her pillow to see the one decoration you had spent a lot of time making

- It was for her

- She smiled, hanging it on her bed post

- She really was soft for you

Riley:

- Misses being a kid at Christmas

- But your enthusiasm is almost as magical to him

- He’s very used to the harsher sides of reality so having something like this with you really makes him happy

- He’ll probably plan something every year, make it a tradition

- He’ll try and top the year before each time

- You insist he doesn’t have to

- But he wants to, in fact he looks forward to it more than the actual day

-  This year is no exception

- He planned a trip to an ice skating rink

- You had explained that you hadn’t been since you were a child

- You clung to him tight

- Eventually it was just an excuse to be close to him as you got the hang of it again

- You skated together

- Laughing and holding hands

- He looked at you so lovingly you swore you would melt into the ice below

- You both stopped in the middle of the rink

-  Just staring into each other’s eyes

- He grins, suddenly skating away and pulling you with him

- His plans hadn’t finished

- You end up on the roof of the rink

- (he knows someone that let you go up there)

- There are blankets and cushions

- You lie there, staring up at the starry sky

- Cuddling up together

- You tell him it’s the best surprise yet and cling to him so tightly

- Not needing an excuse anymore

- You vow to yourself that next year, you’re going to surprise him

- And so you get plotting for next year

[daydreaming-nerd]

I Can’t Control Myself (Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

Another great Anakin smut request! I’m currently working on the other one right now and plan to get it done tonight. I hit a road block with that one but this one came to me pretty quickly so I’m hoping that this will get my juices flowing for the other one! 

Request from Anon:  “Hi I just found your blog and it rocks darling 😘 Could you do a smut 5 with an akin skywalker please (I love my baby ani❤️) but also adding fluff 1 at the end please Thank you so much. P.s I understand if you cannot do it 💙💕”  

“If I start, I won’t be able to control myself”

“Have you always been this beautiful?”

Summary: y/n, a princess and Anakin, her Jedi protector have been agonizing over each other for a long time now but what happens when one of them finally takes the first step? (This doesn’t cut right to the chase I’m sorry) 

Warnings: Smut, light teasing, fluff 

For about a month now Anakin had been my body guard. After rumors of a  uncertain attack on me grew with the intentions to kill me so I could never rise to power as queen one day. At first hew had stayed in the background and watched from afar. But as I grew more comfortable with his presence I found myself asking little favors of him like helping me get stuff off the top shelf.

When everything really started was when I had a meeting with neighboring planets and I asked him what dress I should wear and he replied with.

“I prefer the blue one, but in my opinion you will be equally as beautiful in either your majesty,”

After that day I fell hard and fast for the young and handsome Jedi. If only there wasn’t that stupid code. 

Today was a peaceful day, I woke up and wrapped myself in my morning robe and quietly walked to he terrace outside my room to find Anakin standing on the balcony meditating like he always does. I tiptoed my way to the garden patio to have my breakfast as I always do. I’ve lived in this palace my whole life and I can’t think of a day where I didn’t have breakfast in the rose garden. As the maids brought me my breakfast I felt another familiar presence approaching.

“Good morning your Majesty,” said Anakin 

“Good Morning to you as well Master Skywalker, I hope I didn’t disturb you while you were meditating.” I said taking a bite of my pastry.

“Quite the opposite, your presence helps me focus,” he said with a smile “Though I felt a disturbance this morning.” 

“Oh, is everything alright?” I asked.

“Don’t worry princess no harm will come to you,” he said sitting down next to me while the maids also brought out his breakfast. 

“I’m not worried as long as you’re here,” I said with a smile.

---------- 

 The day was simply too beautiful not to be outside. I grabbed my scissors and went into my beloved rose garden to cut roses to bring into my room while Anakin watched me from the terrace. The whole garden was somewhat of a maze, with rows and rows of different colored roses as I disappeared from Anakins sight to pick the pink roses I suddenly felt as though someone was watching me. I turned around to see a man in a mask who made a cold chill of fear run down my body. Before I could even scream for him Anakin jumped out from behind me ignighting his lightsaber before I knew it the masked man lie on the ground lifeless. 

Panic began to set in me as I realized what might’ve happened. 

“Your majesty are you alright?” said Anakin turning towards me. My breathing became shallow and I slowly started to sink to the ground. My knees would’ve hit the damp grass if it weren’t for Anakin pulling me into his arms. “Shh it’s alright now you’re safe.” he said pulling me into his chest attempting to calm me down.

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

After the incident Anakin and my father decided that it was no longer safe for me at the palace and so my handmaidens packed my bags and we took a discrete transport out to the beach house where my family used to vacation. 

As soon as I finished unpacking a grabbed a basket of fruits and bread as well as a blanket and made my way over to Anakin’s room where we was also unpacking.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch on the beach with me?” I asked.

“I’d love that,” he beamed.

We made our way out to the beach and set up for lunch. I cut up some apples and pears and set them on a plate but before I could even think about digging in a gust of wind blew sand onto the blanket and onto the fruit.

“No!” I said in frustration causing Anakin to laugh. “don’t laugh at me!” I said smacking his arm.

“Don’t worry your majesty, I was only thinking about how I was just about to tell you how much I hated sand,” he said with a smile on his face.

“You know you don’t have to call me your majesty right?”

“Yes Princess,” he said cheekily.

“No!,” I smiled “y/n, call me y/n.”

“alright, y/n” he said.

The rest if that day was spent eating lunch and frolicking on the beach Anakin was even able to take a pink seashell he found and make a necklace for me.

That night after we had gone to bed I snuck out in my pajamas to the balcony that overlooked the sea. The air was cold and it caused the hair on my skin to rise, but I didn’t mind. Out here I could breathe, and think. I sat on the floor and leaned against the mansion of a beach house as I looked out over the moon reflecting over the tranquil crashing waves. I thought about what transpired in the garden that day. The feeling I got when the masked man stood behind me. never in my life had I truly thought about death and dying and what came next and all of the sudden that all seemed so real the second I saw him. I had never been so scared in my entire life.

“You scared me half to death, I couldn’t sense you sleeping and I thought something had happened.” said Anakin from behind me wearing nothing but a pair of pants and his Jedi robes over his bare chest. 

“I’m sorry Ani I guess I just needed some air,” I said.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone it’s dangerous,” he said.

“Well then have a seat,” I said patting the spot next to me. “See it’s not dangerous anymore.”

“you’re freezing,” he stated taking his robe off and draping it around my shoulders.

“Ani I’m fine really,” I said trying to give it back.

“Nope my job is to protect you from everything from bounty hunters to the flu,” he said making me smile.

There was a short silence as we sat there looking at the ocean before us.

“Ani, have you ever been afraid of dying,” I asked out of the blue.

“Only once, when I was little I used to go pod racing and one time my pod went out of control and I thought I was going to crash.” he said “Why? Are you still shook up from today?”

“I suppose so,” I sighed “I just can’t shake the feeling I got when I turned around and saw him standing there.”

“You know you don’t have to worry anymore right? I’ll never let anything happen to you.” he said.

“I know,” I sighed putting my head on his shoulder.

We sat there in silence for the rest of the night until I finally fell asleep on his shoulder. The lat thing I remember was Anakin carrying me back to bed, covering me up and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

---------- 

The next afternoon we went up to the prairie for lunch where the wild tauntauns lived. The whole prairie overlooked the sea and thousands of wildflowers grew in beautiful vibrant colors that contrasted the ripe green of the grass.

“This is much better than that sandy beach,” said Anakin

“I think there is beauty in the sand that is often ignored for the the beauty of the ocean. When you think about it sand is incredibly useful, we use it to make glass and in it we find beautiful shells we can turn into beautiful jewelry.” I smiled holding onto the necklace Anakin had made for me the day before causing him to smile.

“So you could say that you and the sand have very little in common,” He started “Your beauty cannot be ignored, it is something unbelievable. It not only pleases my eyes but warms my heart.”

I smiled at him and looked down to hide my flushed cheeks. 

After lunch Anakin tried to convince me that he could ride one of the wild tauntauns but I told him it was impossible which he took as a challenge. The next thing I knew he was on top of a raging tauntaun holding on for dear life. I laughed as his face became more and more worried. The wild creature eventually bucked him off and I laughed until it stepped on him. I looked closer and he was trying to get up but couldn’t.

“Ani!” I cried fearing the worst. 

When I got there I dropped to my knees and tried to roll him over. When I did he was laughing. I smacked him in the chest and he grabbed my arms pulling me down to him and rolling down the hill.  

---------

That night after Anakin went to bed I snuck out again and went down to the beach. I walked until my feet were submerged in the water. In the moment the sea was calling to me. I untied my robe and let it fall into the shallow water. The cold breeze hit my bare body. I waded further into the water till it almost covered my shoulders. I stood where I could still touch the sandy sea floor and I let the water wrap around my naked form. For once I felt completely free. I heard splashing behind me and I saw Anakin swimming out towards me, my heart stopped as I realized he would notice I’m completely naked under the dark water. I frantically looked for my robes on the shore only to find a similar pile next to mine. 

“If Master Obi Wan knew I was swimming around like this he would kill me!” Shouted Anakin from a couple yards away causing me to giggle.

We both floated around ignoring the tension between the two of us until I stepped off a drop off and gravity pulled me to the bottom of the four foot drop. Almost instantly I was pulled up by my arm and into Anakin’s strong arms.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” he said reassuringly as I coughed up a little water. 

We sat there for a second, the tension was greater than it had ever been in this past month. Without thinking I put my hand on his cheek and pushed a piece of wet hair away from his face. I looked down at his lips and started to move in but he stoped me.

“If I start, I won’t be able to control myself,” he said.

“I don’t want you to,”

With that his lips slammed onto mine and my arms wrapped around his neck. His hands wandered up my waist pulling me closer to him. The kiss was hot and needy. Tension from many weeks finally being cut. He brought his hand around my thigh and pulled it so I would wrap my legs around his waist and he began to walk towards the shore. We never broke the kiss even as he walked past our forgotten clothes, up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

He gently laid me on the bed and began kissing my neck.

“Oh Ani,” I moaned out.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in between sloppy kisses moving his way down my body till he got to my heat. He peppered kisses along my inner thighs before licking a strip all the way up my sex causing me to scream out in pleasure and tug his hair.

He began eating me out vigorously, absolutely ravishing me. He sucked on my clit as his arms hooked under my thighs to burry his head even deeper. I felt my self getting closer and closer as his tongue began lapping at my clit at a relentless speed. I felt my orgasm build up and within a matter of minutes I was a moaning mess for I had felt pleasure I had never felt before.

“I’ve been waiting a lifetime to hear those sounds leave your mouth,” he said making his way back up to me. I could feel his hard dick rutting against my thigh. “are you ready?” he asked. I nodded.

With that simple gesture he began to push his rock hard cock into me causing me to scream out in both pleasure and pain. I grabbed his neck and pulled him down to kiss me again, a kiss full of heat of the moment passion and with that he bottomed out in me causing us both the moan into the kiss. 

Breaking apart he gave me a minute to adjust before he started a slow pace.

“You’re so warm and wet,” he said building up speed it wasn’t long before he was pounding into me making me scream in pleasure. I ran my hands down his back leaving scratch marks making him let out a strangled moan.

“You feel.. so good,” he cried.

“I’m so close Ani,” I said.

“Me too,” he breathed out “On three...one”

“Fuck Ani!” I screamed getting closer.

“two...THREE!” he screamed as he bottomed out in me burying his seed deep inside me setting off my second orgasm of the night. 

He sat on his elbow above me and looked down at me like I was the world.

“I love you,” He said out of breath.

“I love you to Ani,” I beamed and he went in to give me another kiss. 

He finally rolled over and pulled me into his chest. I looked up at him with stars in my eyes.

“Have you always been this beautiful?” he asked innocently.

“You’re too good to be true Anakin Skywalker.” I smiled.

There was again a silence as he started to fall asleep before I finally asked him.

“Ani what about the Jedi code?” 

“Let’s not talk about that now. You’re finally all mine. I wanna enjoy the moment you’re finally in my arms.” he said pulling me closer.

I agreed with him. Troubles can be left for tomorrow. Right now I finally had everything I ever wanted.

AN: guys I’m sorry that it didn’t cut right to the chase I just wanted the tension to build and got carried away. 

[sohotthateveryonedied]

We Dream in the Dark, for the Most Part

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses.

Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls.

“Handling it!”

It was a grueling patrol, but Jason is relieved to be home. He missed having Roy by his side tonight, but their usual babysitter, Mrs. Peterson from next door, came down with pneumonia yesterday and canceled. She doesn’t seem to have any idea that her neighbors are vigilantes, but they pay her enough that she doesn’t ask. Lian is coloring at the coffee table while Jason toes off his boots, leaving them at the front door. She’s wearing her fluffy Stitch pajamas, which she’s been practically living in for the last week and a half. “Hey, princess.” Jason drops a kiss on top of her head as he passes. “Where’s your dad?” “In the kitchen. He’s playing with the electricity again.” “Oh, good. Because, you know, I was actually hoping our place would explode, just to spice things up.” Lian giggles. “Has he fed you yet?” She shakes her head, her black pigtails swinging back and forth. “Nope. But he promised me special sushi if I cleaned up all my books.” Jason will never understand Lian’s passion for her “special sushi,” which is just deli ham slathered in strawberry yogurt and rolled up like a spring roll from hell. Jason gets nauseated just thinking about it, but the kid loves the stuff. “And did you clean up?” Lian points over at the bookshelf against the wall. They don’t have a huge apartment by any means, but Jason insisted on dedicating an entire wall to his books. That was one of the conditions when Roy first asked Jason to move in with him and Lian. It took weeks of finagling to convince Jason to relinquish a small section of the bookshelf for Lian’s picture books, which are indeed all in their right places. “Then it looks like you’ve earned your sushi, little miss. I’m gonna shower first and then I’ll make it for you, alright?” “I can make it by myself.” Jason snorts. “After what happened last time? I don’t think so.” It was his own fault for thinking a five-year-old could prepare her own food. It took a solid hour to scrub the yogurt stains out of the carpet. Jason pokes his head in the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. “Tell me you’re not burning the building down.” “Okay, then I’m not burning the building down,” Roy says around the screwdriver trapped between his teeth. He stands in front of what was once a light switch, tinkering with something that he most definitely should not be tinkering with, but Jason is picking his battles today.

“I’m not going to bother telling you that you’re on your second strike with the landlord. If he has to come up here again, I’m not defending you.” “You know what I miss? The old days when people would greet each other by saying things like, ‘hi, sweetie, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, it was lovely, darling. How about a kiss after spending hours apart and missing each other dearly?’ ‘Babe, it’s like you read my mind!’ You know, stuff like that?” Jason arches an eyebrow. “I’ve got mobster blood caked in my hair. Still want a hello kiss?” “Not really, no. Go shower.” “Try not to blow a fuse in the meantime, please.” Roy salutes with his screwdriver. “Aye, aye, captain.” Jason goes to the bathroom and relishes in the feeling of peeling off his armor and the bodysuit underneath, every layer soaked with sweat and blood. It’s a good thing his Red Hood getup is all dark colors, or he’d have scarred Lian for life ten times over already. He turns the shower knob as hot as it’ll go, letting his muscles slowly unravel under the spray. He takes his time scrubbing off the blood and dirt, whistling some shitty pop song that Dick paid Barbara to blast through the comms all. Night. Long. Jason has plans to add that to his repertoire of torture techniques if he ever needs some extra edge. It’s definitely effective. Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses. Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls. “Handling it!” Another sigh. This is what he gets for leaving Roy alone. It’s Jason’s own fault, really. He quickly rinses the shampoo from his hair and leaves the bathroom, and towel wrapped around his waist. He navigates the pitch black apartment and finds Roy lighting a match in the kitchen. He’s got Lian tucked in one arm. “What did I say?” Jason asks. “I know, I know—” “I said not to blow a fuse. That was your one job.” “Technically, I didn’t blow a fuse. I just overloaded the circuit and cut off the electricity for the whole building.” Jason smacks himself in the forehead. “Wonderful.” Remind him again why he’s in love with this man? “I’m sure it’ll be fixed in no time.” “You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes.” “You’re overreacting. It’s just a little blackout.” “We have ice cream in the freezer.” “I’ll buy more.” Jason runs a hand through his wet hair. “You’re killing me, babe. Again.” “It’s just one night without power, right? I’m sure it’ll come back on in the morning.” He bounces Lian a little, who’s got her face buried in Roy’s neck. Poor thing is terrified of the dark. “What do you think, pumpkin? You think you can be brave for one little night in the dark?” “I don’t like it. It’s scary.” “I know it is, sweetheart. But do you want to know a secret?” He leans in close to her ear, mock-whispering, “Jaybird over here is afraid of the dark too.” Lian looks at Jason with wide eyes. “Really?” Roy nods. “Yep. But you know what? He’s so brave and strong that he overcame that fear and now it hardly bothers him anymore. Do you think you can be brave like that?” “I can be super brave.” “That’s my girl. Not, sit here for a minute, ‘kay?” He sets her down on the arm of the sofa. The match has fizzled out by now, leaving them in complete darkness. “I know I have some scented candles around here somewhere. Dinah keeps getting them as gifts and pushes them on me when she doesn’t like them.” Jason’s eyes widen. “Wait, watch out for the—” Roy trips with a shout, glass shattering as he falls. “—coffee table.” Roy just groans in response. “Hang on, let me get a light.” Jason makes his way to the drawer they keep the emergency flashlight in. He turns on the beam to show Roy on the floor, surrounded by glass shards and clutching his leg. There are several small cuts peppering his knee like he crawled on a beach made of broken bottles. Jason gasps. “Oh my god, Roy! You broke Lian’s crayons!” Roy flips him off, angling his hand so Lian can’t see. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Jason helps him up and hands him the flashlight. “Lian, honey, will you help him get to the couch? I need to put some clothes on.” And he’s almost positive there’s another flashlight somewhere in Roy’s nightstand. They’re going to need all the light they can get. Jason gets dressed and retrieves the flashlight, plus one of Lian’s Disney princess glow sticks. When he returns, Roy is on the couch with his leg propped up on what remains of their coffee table. Lian is shining the flashlight on her tiny first-aid kit which Kori gave her last Christmas. She sifts through her collection of band-aids. “One to ten?” “Barely a two,” Roy says. “I already dug the glass out, and none were deep enough to need stitches.” Jason checks him over anyway, just to be sure. He wipes away the blood and applies some ointment over the cuts. He turns to Lian when he’s finished. “Can I trust you to finish this up while I make dinner?” She nods enthusiastically. Perfect. Lian can keep herself busy plastering Roy in Hello Kitty bandages, and Jason will have time to figure out what the hell they’re doing, food-wise. “How do you expect to make dinner without electricity?” Roy asks, reading his mind yet again. “What, did you never have to eat cold leftover pizza in your million-dollar mansion growing up? Weird.” He dodges the pillow Roy throws his way, laughing. “Those jokes don’t count when you also grew up in a million-dollar mansion.” Thirty minutes later and the three of them are sitting on the couch, Roy and Jason eating cold mushroom casserole while Lian enjoys her ham and yogurt. Once you get over the temperature difference, cold casserole turns out to be just as tasty as hot casserole. Gordon Ramsey should take notes. Jason managed to track down the candles Roy was talking about earlier and set them in various places around the living room, lighting the room in a dim glow. It’s not perfect lighting by any means—not even good lighting, really, but at least no one will be falling into another coffee table anytime soon. Roy’s knee is covered in Hello Kitty band-aids, some of which are in spots that weren’t even cut up by the glass. Roy doesn’t seem to mind. Jason took a picture for potential blackmail reasons. “I’m bored,” Lian says after a while. “You could always go to bed,” Roy suggests, “given that your bedtime was fifteen minutes ago but your daddies are nice enough to let you stay up this long.” “That was nice of us,” Jason agrees. “I think we’ve earned a quiet night to ourselves.” Lian pouts. She grabs Jason’s arm, clinging to his bicep like a koala. “But it’s dark in my room.” “It’s dark in there every night.” “It’s really dark tonight. Can I stay here with you instead?” Her eyes are big and innocent, perfectly disguising the mischief lurking within. This girl could be a successful con artist one day. (Not that Jason or Roy will ever let that happen. She’s going to grow up and become a veterinarian or something equally harmless.) Roy and Jason meet eyes, having a silent conversation over Lian’s head. Finally, Roy sighs. “Fine. You can stay up with us a little longer, but only because of the blackout, okay? Don’t go thinking that this trick is going to work tomorrow night.” Lian claps her hands, bouncing in her seat. “Can I have coffee?” “Absolutely not.” She isn’t deterred in the slightest. “This is gonna be so fun! We can stay up all night long, even past midnight and three o’clock which is when the ghosts come out.” “Ghosts, huh?” Jason says. “Yeah, Aunt Stephanie told me all about it! Three o’clock is when the witching hour happens and witches and ghosts come out like Bloody Mary and Freddie Cougar and they call come into your house and walk around but you can only see them if you’re awake, which I’m gonna be because I’m not even tired, I could stay up all night long and for a million, bazillion years, and—” She lasts seven minutes. Lian is fast asleep now with her head in Roy’s lap, her tiny feet dangling off the arm of the sofa. Jason drapes a blanket over her, kissing her on the forehead. He’s careful not to jostle Roy’s bandaged leg as he takes a seat beside him, putting his arm around Roy’s shoulders. “Well, I’m fucking exhausted.” “It’s cool if you want to go to bed,” Roy says. “I don’t mind sticking around here with Lian until the power comes back on.” “Nah, it’s fine. I like it better in here, anyway.” In here, where the light is. Roy doesn’t comment on the hidden meaning that he definitely catches on to, and Jason loves him for it. He just kisses Jason’s cheek, settling against his side. Jason doesn’t mention the darkness thing often. Or at all. After all, grown men don’t get scared of the dark—especially when they live in a place like Gotham and were raised in a literal cave. But if Lian insists on having the hallway light on in addition to the night light next to her bed, then Jason isn’t about to discourage her. Roy never says a word about it. Every night he keeps the door to his and Jason’s bedroom cracked open just enough so a sliver of hallway light floods in, and it’s good for both of them, really. Jason feels safer with the light on, and they both feel safer being able to hear every creak and draft in the apartment, falling asleep knowing that nothing will sneak up on them. Even when Jason was living on his own, post-resurrection, he always kept a lamp on when he went to sleep in whichever safehouse he was squatting in that night. Back before he had a place to call home. On especially bad nights, he would turn on the lights in every single room, even the one in the microwave. Only then could he sleep soundly. He can’t exactly do that now, but he doesn’t need to. Whenever his head gets too heavy to bear, he’ll simply wrap his arms around Roy and fall back asleep to the sound of Roy’s heart beating under his ear. He falls back asleep in minutes. Jason isn’t entirely sure what caused the light issue in the first place. Sometimes he can’t remember if it arose before or after he was adopted by Bruce. Other times he’s sure it’s lingering trauma from the coffin, from waking up in pitch blackness six feet underground. No bearings, no sense of what was happening or where he was. The only thing in there with him was the thick, cloying darkness on every side of him. Jason shivers just thinking about it. “We should get her a new night light,” he says. “Battery powered, not a plug-in. It would be a good investment if you ever try destroying our electricity again.” Roy hums. “We can pick one up tomorrow. I need to take her clothes shopping anyway. And it might be a good idea to have a couple for the living room and bathroom so we don’t have a repeat of tonight.” “Good idea.” God, Jason’s craving a cigarette right now. Every nerve in his body urges him to get one and soothe the anxiety buzzing in his brain, but he has a rule against smoking in the apartment or anywhere near Lian. He’d settle for a beer instead, whatever keeps the buzzing at bay, but he doesn’t drink at home either out of respect for Roy’s sobriety. He’s stuck. Roy must notice Jason’s twitching fingers because he reaches into his pocket, careful not to wake Lian as he pulls out a stick of nicotine gum. “Here.” Jason unwraps the gum and shoves it in his mouth. He takes a deep breath in as he chews, letting it out slowly. It takes the edge off some, but not completely. Still, it’s better than nothing. “You’re just carrying these on you now?” "Came in handy, didn't it?" “And I thought Bruce was the king of being prepared for everything.” Jason straightens the wrapper until it’s flat like a card. He holds it over the nearest candle until it catches, watching the flame consume the paper, eating away at its edges. He blows it out just before it gets too close to his fingers. “When I was a kid,” he says after a minute, “my mom and I used to light candles like these. The heat would get turned off pretty often since she was usually too high to remember what day it was, let alone when the bills needed to be paid. But whenever it happened, she would send me to the store with a couple dollars and I’d buy a bag of marshmallows. We’d roast them over the candles and pretend we were camping.” “That sounds nice.” “It was. I mean, now I realize that it’s actually really fucking sad that we had to resort to candles ‘cause my mom wasted all her cash on drugs and couldn’t pay the heating bill. But at the time, it was nice. It’s one of the few good memories I have of that time.” He feels more than sees Roy’s fingers lacing through his own, clasping their hands together. “I was telling the truth earlier, you know. You’re brave and strong and badass all the way.” Jason snorts. “Even if I get freaked out every time the lights go out?” Roy doesn’t laugh with him. “Yeah, even then. And you know why?” He rests his head on Jason’s shoulder, lets Jason feel his warmth. “Because of all the things to be afraid of, you picked the one that can be fixed by just turning the lights on. Once you do that, there’s nothing left in the world that can scare you. And that’s pretty damn badass if you ask me.”

[martellthemandalor]

Fight or Flight - Part 1

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: langauge, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of violence, no Tom becuase I hate him

Rating: T (teen)

Word Count: 4.5K+

A/N: After nearly a month of not writing (fuck you writers block), I’m finally here with this Frankie fic. It’s going to be a two parter and part two will hopefully be posted next week, but I’m off to uni this weekend so I’ll have to see if I have the time to finish and post it. As always, likes are appreciated, reblogs encouraged and feedback is adored. (Also my Spanish sucks, please correct me if you see any mistakes)

Masterlist

GIF credit: @conveniently-available

You thought you’d started seeing things when you’d caught the shadowed face of Santiago Garcia, an ex squadmate, staring at you across the market plaza. You weren’t sure whether to be glad you weren’t going insane, or pissed that he’d ignored your blatant choice to ignore him when he had slid into the booth opposite you. Cocking an eyebrow at your old friend, you took a long swig of your beer.

He responded with a familiar smile, one you hadn’t seen in years. He was still as infectious as he was all those years ago, a single smile all it took to break your nonchalant air. You rolled your eyes as a grin broke across your face, shaking your head at him.

“Long time no see Pope,” you started, sliding your bottle across the table to him. He accepted the drink, taking a sip of the cold liquid. It was something the two of you had started back in your squad days, often choosing to share a bottle of whatever alcohol you could get your hands on in celebration. Initially you shared because alcohol was as rare as a total eclipse while at base, but it had quickly evolved into your own tradition. You watched with careful eyes as he handed the bottle back to you. “And here I’d thought I had done a good job of disappearing.”

He laughed at that. The deep belly laugh that, as much as you didn’t want to admit, you had missed so much. You and Santiago had been close friends, practically family, back in the Delta Force. When you went through your early retirement you had told yourself that disappearing was the easier choice, that it would save you a lot of heartache, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t hurt like hell to leave him like that.

“You certainly made it fun to track you down, Athena,” He replied, eyes sparking when your own met his in shock of hearing your old call sign. “But it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I take it that means you didn’t get my text then?”

“Given that I ditched my old phone when I left, no,” You took another sip of your drink, before slowly setting it back on the table. “What do you want Santi?”

He leant forward, voice dropping to an enticing rumble.

“I’ve got us a job,” You rolled your eyes at him and opened your mouth to make a smart ass remark. Santi knew you to well and saw what was coming, quickly continuing before you have chance to speak. “Seventeen thousand up front for a weeklong recce, all paid for by the narcotics unit down there.  But if we go through with it there’s potential for major upside, I’ve cut a deal with the agency. We keep twenty five percent of whatever we seize.”

“That twenty five percent doesn’t mean shit if it’s some drug running nobody, Pope. Who are we going after?" You ask, reaching for your bottle.

He dropped back in his seat, arms crossing against his chest. His jaw ticked for a moment, stretching out the seconds before dropping his bombshell.

“Lorea.” He shrugged.

“No shit?” Your response was almost instant, disbelief lacing your tone as your hand froze, millimetres away from the frosted glass. “The guy’s a ghost Pope, even my people can’t trace him.”

“I got solid intel, my informant says he’s holed up in a safe house with all his cash, over seventy five million dollars.” He raised both his brows in emphasis, reaching forward to snatch the bottle in front of your hovering fingertips. You watched in stunned silence as he brought the bottle to his lips. Santi chuckled at your expression.

“Fuck me.” Was all you managed to say, gratefully accepting the drink Santiago passes back. You took a long swig, using the little time the action gave to gather your thoughts a little. “Look Pope, I imagine you’ve already got the boys lined up for thi-”

“Nope, I’ve come to you first. I need you on this hermana, your skills are invaluable.” His eyes were pleading with you, chocolate irises piercing into your own. Paired with his boyish smile it was almost enough to make you give in.

Almost.

“But you are getting the boys together, and if you’re getting all of them together… I just can’t Santiago,” you stressed, your tone dejected. Part of you hoped that he only needed you, maybe then could have justified going. “Look, I’ve got a good gig here. I can’t just up and leave for a week with the boyband, stalking around some god forsaken jungle.”

“Is that so?” He smirked at you, eyebrow quirking slightly.

“You know full well there isn’t a lot of good work I get with my ‘skill set’, private security was the best move. It’s really not the sort of job I can disappear from for any amount of time.”

“Oh is that what they call it now?”

It was true that ‘private security’ was a pretty lose term for your job. You were certainly a form of security, but the mansions you protected were occupied by brazen CEO’s whose companies had less than reputable backgrounds. ‘Private Army’ was probably a more accurate job description. Or ‘Gun for Hire’.

“Fuck off Pope, like your job is any better,” You sniped, throwing a dangerous look across the table. Santi threw an equally serious face back at you. Neither of you could keep it up for long though, your stern expressions melting away with a light hearted laugh.

“I missed you Santi,” The sentiment behind your words rang sincere and true.

“I’ve missed you to hermana, I’m sure the other boys have as well.”

You scoffed.

“I’m sure two out of three of them do.”

Pope gave you a pointed look, and then leaned in to rest his forearms on the table.

“Frankie has definitely missed you Athena,” He stated, his voice low as his eyes flickered across your face. He watched as anger sparked across your features, scattering across your face like embers spitting from a fire.

“Frankie has no right to miss me,” You all but spat it at him. Seeing him open his mouth to protest, you cut off his oncoming plea with a sharp “You know exactly why.”

Santi slumped back into the worn cushion of the booth, running a hand down his face. He had hoped the resentment you harboured for your ex had faded over the past few years, but the way your words are filled with venom as you spoke his name he knew that opposite was true. If that was the case, then convincing you to join the job was going to be twice as hard. He shook his head at you.

“I don’t, actually. No one but you and Frankie knows what actually happened that day. You know that the reports for ops like ours are never truthful, our mistakes and injuries always get omitted,” Your sudden laugh caused Pope to pause, a short and sarcastic bark that was quickly followed by a swig of beer. “Look. You know I really need you on this, but I also need Fish. This job requires a pilot and he’s the best one I know.”

“I don’t care Pope. I’m not going if he’s going to be there, simple as. Find someone else with my ‘skill set’, god knows I can give you the contacts.”

With that you hauled your bag over your shoulder and went to leave the booth, pushing the glass bottle over to Santi to finish.

You thought you’d been successful in storming off. He didn’t say a word to stop you, just watched with marksman intensity as you slid out the booth. As you strode past him however, his hand darted out to firmly grip your wrist. Twisting towards him, you found whatever expletives that were rising in your throat died on the tip of your tongue. Those damn eyes of his placated you in an instant. Big and brown and mirroring a look you know you’ve given him so many times in the past.

“Please hermana. I need people I can trust on this, and there’s no one I trust more than you. I know you’ve seen what Lorea does to the city, hell to the whole damn country, but it’s getting personal now. I need to stop him. I need you to help me stop him,” He pleads. It makes you hesitate. You know all the terrible things that have happened under Lorea’s reign, seen first-hand a few of them. It was all Santi needed, he sees the new chink in your armour and jumps to rush into the gap before it closes you from him again.

“Seventeen thousand guaranteed, more if we go through with it, probably enough that you’ll never have to pick up a gun again. A week of work. AND I’ll personally make sure Fish doesn’t talk to you, if that’s what you want. Okay?”

There’s a silence, a lengthy pause where he can see the cogs turn in your head. Your eyes search his face, you’re not entirely sure what it is you’re looking for, but whatever your gaze meets seems to harden your resolve. Dropping your head back you groan dramatically.

“Fine. Alright I’ll do it. You better make good on those promises though.”

“When have I ever not Athena?” Pope grins at you, grabbing his own bag and standing up to join you. He brings you in for a proper hug, both of you grinning and laughing in each other’s ears. When you break he wraps his arm around your shoulders, the two of you walking out the bar in perfect step. That was something else that hadn’t changed then, you and he having a freaky twin-like way of mirroring each other. Even after all this time.

“Remind me again why we had Will as point on all our missions? You are so much more persuasive, and easier to listen to.” You gave him a poke on his ribs, causing another laugh to rumble from his chest.

“I don’t know hermana,” He replied, giving your own ribs a poke. “Now where’s good to eat around here, I’m starving.”

-

Frankie looked at the text on his phone once again. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, the amount that Pope was promising and just for a consultation alone.

“Hey, Fish, you coming?” Benny slapped down the end of the white tape wrapped around his hand, securing it in place.

“Right behind you Benny,” He replied, slipping the device back into its designated pocket. There was only one thought running rings around his head since he’d received the illusive message.

Had you been recruited for this job too?

Fish knew that you and Santiago had been close friends throughout your army days, the pair of you having closer ties than the rest of squad, save for Will and Benny of course. A bond like that, it doesn’t go forgotten, he knows better than most that even when severed, it leaves a lingering ghost.

Maybe it had pulled Pope to call you in. Maybe it had even convinced you to say yes.

Benny slapped the lockers as the pair rounded the corner of the changing room, the abrasive metallic clanging drawing Frankie out of the black hole of his thoughts.

“Aw yeah where my corner men?” Benny chanted, beelining for Santiago.

Frankie didn’t want to look. Instead he walked swiftly up Will, greeting him with a solid embrace. Pulling away, Will gave him a look. It was one of encouragement and almost… sympathy? Frankie’s gaze dipped away from the blonde man, sending a glance towards his old friend.

A tap on his arm from Will gave him the courage he needed. He turned towards Santiago, head down, hoping that going in hat first would somehow protect him. He painted a smile on his face, swiping his hand to swat at Pope’s arm.

“Hey! todos los días que're más feo,” (“Everyday you’re uglier”) He joked, a genuine chuckle escaping his lips when Santi responded by grabbing the open ends of his jacket.

“Ah, pequeño pendejo,” (“You little shithead”) Santi laughed and pulled Frankie into a hug. He felt a little of his anxiety melt away, things seeming to be normal so far. No ghosts. “Me alegro de verte.” (“good to see you”)

Frankie settled onto one of the benches, watching his hands as they lay clasped, but still fidgeting, in his lap.

“Did you boys get my text?” The answering silence to Santiago’s question was deafening. Not that it put him off of course, if anything the hush just spurred Pope on more. “Yeah? Fish?”

Hearing Pope say his call sign felt almost foreign, even as it sent him hurtling back through time. Back into an apparition of the three of you laughing, joking, ribbing light-heartedly at the names bestowed upon you.

This time it was Santi who ripped him from his thoughts.

“I need a pilot, I can’t do this thing without you.”

“I don’t know man,” Frankie shook his head at his hands, “I got out of this for a reason.”

Lie. There was way more than a single reason. One of which he prayed wasn’t going to round those lockers, like he had mere minutes before.

“What… what does that mean?” Pope questioned in disbelief. “Did you read the text? This can change your life forever Frankie.”

Fish scoffed, rising from the bench. He knew exactly how much this could change his life. However, it didn’t mean it would be changed for the better.

It was easy for Pope to say, to propose it, this had been his life for years, long after the squad had gone their separate ways. The only way to fuel his need to make a difference was, in his eyes, to pick up a gun and do it himself. Frankie still remembered his justification for running back into violence.

“What happened to that bullshit about going back to your Mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?” Fish’s arms crossed as he fired Pope’s words back at him, a subtle stab that didn’t go unnoticed by the group. Pope chuckled softly in response, his expression hardening for a split second.

“Anyway,” Frankie continued. “I lost my licence. I can’t even fly right now.” His steady gaze dropped at that, the cold water of shame settling deep in his stomach at the admission.

Pope was unfazed, pressing on with double the determination.

“Well, I don’t need a pilot with a licence. I’m in with the army down there,” He took a step towards his capped friend, steadily pressing into the bubble Frankie had built around him. Pope ducked his head slightly, trying to catch his evading eyes. “I just need a pilot I can trust.”

“Yeah. I don’t think so.” Frankie shot back, not missing a beat.

He watched as Popes mouth pressed into a firm line, chucking out a soft “Okay,” before starting on a passionate ramble about Lorea. Fish purposely turned away, tuning out the determined voice of his friend in favour of watching Benny prep for his fight. He hoped that the obvious shun of Santiago’s efforts would make his stance clearer. If he could get any clearer than the obvious “No.” he had given seconds before.

“… There’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” The words were spoken close to his ear, swinging his attention back to his exasperated friend. Fuck it. Maybe if he bites at Santi’s line just a little, then his focus would turn to one of the other guys. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this-”

Pope’s voice stalled just slightly, his eyes darting momentarily behind Frankie’s head. Confusion flashed across Fish’s features, until he heard the voice.

That voice, so saccharine sweet and smooth, that haunts him more than any horror he’s seen. Your voice.

“You gonna win for me, Benny?”

-

Your grin was wide, arms folded casually as you leaned against the chilling metal of the lockers.

“Athena!” Benny all but roared, surging towards you and swiftly gathering you in his arms. Your own came around his neck as he swung you round. “I’m most certainly going to win now my good luck charm is here.” He said, setting you back down on your feet. You could feel Frankie’s stare burning into the back of you as you let your touch linger just a little longer than necessary, fingertips dancing gently across the bare expanse of Benny’s shoulders.

“Good luck charm, hmm? Does that mean you’ve been losing without me around?” You teased, palms resting on Benny’s firm chest.

“No ma’am, just means that winning will be twice as easy now.” He said, squeezing your hips, a move that didn’t go unnoticed. Then you moved to the other Miller brother.

“Hey Will, how you been?” You asked, arms wrapping round him in a much softer embrace. He chuckled against your ear.

“I’ve been fine, better for seeing you though, Ath,” Will pulled back, hands coming to rest in his pockets. “After you left we didn’t think we’d see you again, where’ve you been?”

“A few places, all over America really, went abroad a couple times. Paris was particularly nice I must say.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Paris, eh? Well you’ve certainly done the best out of all of us.” Will acknowledged, a hand coming out to squeeze your shoulder lightly. Your smile was wide and genuine, beaming at the bearded blonde. He responded with a smile of his own, quiet pride etched across his soft eyes.

“We always knew she would,” Pope spoke up, striding over to you. “Athena was destined for better things than us from the start, you boys knew that when you named her for a Greek goddess.” He cajoled, nudging your arm lightly.

“Santiago, you flatter me. C’mere, idiot.” You laughed lightly, pulling in your best friend for a solid hug.

Pope’s shoulders were squared when he finally let go. Your eyes immediately clocking the way he was winding himself tight. His brow ticked up in silent question.                                                                                                

A lull fell over the locker room. The electric energy radiating from Benny made the air thrum as you assessed the potential for disaster. The silence was deafening, if only momentary, as the boys tensely awaited your next move.

Pope’s words swirled in your mind.

“I’ll personally make sure Fish doesn’t talk to you”

You had your hard out.

This time though, you didn’t want to take it.

You turned to your ex-boyfriend, seeing his figure slightly hunched and arms firmly crossed.

“Hello, Frankie.”

The words detonated on everyone at the same time, the potential implications rippling across the boys. No one knowing this time what the true aftermath would look like.

He didn’t even meet your gaze.

“Hey Athena.” His tone was blunt, cold, unfeeling. It slammed right into your gut, worse than any blow you’d taken before.

The bastard.

Santi must have sensed the bonfire building in you, his frame coming to block your path to Fish. Before he had chance to say anything though, Benny’s adrenaline became your saving grace.

“C’mon focus guys, it’s fight night!” He chided, throwing a lifeline into the centre of oppressive atmosphere. Will was the quickest to grasp at it, snapping his focus onto his brother.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that bullshit.” he said calmly, throwing a gentle look over at Frankie.

“Sorry, Benny.” You conceded, scratching the back of your neck.

“You ready for this?” Will checked. You knew on these nights that he was often more anxious than his brother, though he would die before ever admitting that to his younger sibling.

“Hell yeah.” Benny confidently replied.

-

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he pretended not to watch the way you had linked arms with Benny, walking in perfect step with him out the room.

Santi hadn’t said a word about you coming. Not a single syllable. He wasn’t sure whether to be mad or relieved. Would it have been worse to know in advance? Worse to have longer to revisit the shimmering ghost of your relationship, to think about the way you used to smile and laugh with him, only to have those images marred by the utter disdain you regarded him with now.

Pope lingered for a moment, waiting for Fish to gather himself. A deep breath and a head shake later Frankie strode out to follow the gang, letting Santi walk a few paces ahead.

The corridor was painfully bright as Frankie emerged from the locker room, he always hated bright spaces. Especially when they were accompanied by white walls that did nothing but highlight the way you were parading Benny down the hall.

He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the image of you talking, laughing, flirting with the tall fighter was steadily being burnt onto his retinas. You were acting as if Benny had been the one you’d dated, been the one you’d slept with.

Had you?

No. That was a rabbit hole he couldn’t let himself fall down. Not now.

Instead, he opted for turning his attention to Pope.

“I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit,” He started, hovering just slightly behind his friend. Somehow being shoulder to shoulder for this conversation… well, he couldn’t deal with being that exposed right now. Pope chuckled softly.

“It’s all right.”

“I got busted. It’s not a big deal,” Fish paused, wandering for a moment whether he could let that lie stick. No, he couldn’t. “Actually it’s a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santi asked, almost too knowingly.

Frankie couldn’t say anything, just gave Pope a look of confirmation.

There. It was out now.

“Jesus, Frankie.” Santiago scoffed.

“Technically, it’s a suspension. I’m still under review.”

Pope’s face was unchanging, that same slightly sceptical look drawn across his features.

Frankie knew nothing he said would change that, but at least he’d got it out. Part of him hoped that if Santi knew then, well he’d stop him from doing anything to stupid in the face of his old spectres.

He turned his attention to the stoically quiet Will who was walking a few paces ahead.

“Well, what about you? What are you gonna do?” He asked.

“I said if Athena was in, I’m in,” Will said.

Fish watched as you threw your fist in the air.

“Hell yeah!” You chanted, not looking back at the group.

“Come on, stick with me guys.” Benny asserted.

Fish hated the way your arm tightened round his, holding yourself to him tighter.

“Oh, I’m with you, Benny. But are you with me?” Santiago asked. “Are you in?”

Fuck, how he wished he could un-see the way your eyes peered into the steady expression of his squad mate, forget how your face lit up when Benny responded.

“You know I am. I go where you go.”

“That’s what I thought! Benny stands tall!” Pope slapped Benny’s back, his words alive with excitement.

“Fuck yeah he does.” You affirmed.

The announcements from the main arena were getting louder as the group approached. Frankie nearly walked straight into Santi when the group stopped its pace. The jolting stop had been caused by you and Benny, his eyes immediately locking onto the harrowing scene playing out in front of him.

“C’mere Ben,” You said, reaching to tilt Benny’s cheek towards you and pressing a kiss to the warm skin there. “For luck, not that you’ll need it of course. Go knock em’ out, tiger.”

-

As much as you loved to watch Benny beat the shit out of another dumbass fighter, the climate of ring room had gotten overwhelming hot and oppressive, fast. You shouted to Pope about getting some air, and then slipped into the fresh, quiet open space at the backdoor of the gym.

Your head fell back against the cold concrete of the wall, taking steady gulps of crisp air as you tried to centre yourself a little. You hated loud noise.

Years of training to hone your hearing had made you acquire a preference for quiet places. It wasn’t that your ears were sensitive by any means, years of being near active warzones had made sure of that, but overwhelming noise meant you couldn’t pick up on small hints of danger. It was that which made your heart race and head pound.

The clicking of the heavy door next to you opening alerted you to another presence. You hoped it was Santi, the two of you still had a lot to catch up on after all, but that hope was squashed when the tan jacket of Frankie Morales emerged.

“What do you want, Catfish?” You asked, exasperation lacing your voice.

“What was that?” He asked in return.

“What was what.”

“You. Kissing Benny.”

You tilted your head to get a better look at him. His arms were folded across his chest, cap pulled low over his eyes. His gaze was furtive, eyes flicking between you and the uninteresting tarmac bellow.

“It’s called ‘moral support’.” You scoffed at him.

Frankie shifted his weight, hip jutting out as he rested his hands there. You tried to swallow the small lump in your throat that formed at seeing him do the pose you had loved for so many years.

In the past it had been accompanied by a playful look in his eye before he’d pounce on you, growling slightly as he pinned you to the nearest surface. Usually accompanied by a “You shouldn’t tease me like that, hermosa.”

Now though his eyes were hardened as he stared you down.

You pushed down your emotions. You couldn’t let yourself miss him. Not again. Not now.

“And the flirting?” he retorted

“Me and Ben have always flirted! I only stopped because-“

Because me and you started dating, because I fell head over heels for you faster and deeper than anyone before you, because there is no one who could ever compare to you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway, I’m allowed to flirt, Fish. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone right now.” You said sharply.

You heard his breath hitch. Saw his eyes widen slightly in shock, lips parted. For a moment he stared at you, before coming back to his senses.

“You… you’re not?” He stammered slightly.

You sighed. Dragging a single hand down your face, you let it rest on your shoulder before turning to face him fully.

“No,” You said firmly, “I’m not seeing anyone. Do you really think so low of me? That I would come in here and flirt with Benny to what? Make a point? All while I had some partner holed up somewhere waiting for me to come home.”

Frankie’s mouth goldfished at you a couple times. If you had been listening hard enough you may have heard the whirring and clunking of his proverbial cogs turning steadily in his brain. He was frantically trying to think of some way to back pedal on his verbal attack.

No, you categorically didn’t miss him anymore.

“Do us both a favour, yeah? Stay away from me tonight.” You snapped.

You swept past him, back into the bleak walls of the gym. If your strides had been slower, if you hadn’t have been so very desperate to flee, you might have heard his closing remark.

“I thought the world of you, mi petardo.” (“my firecracker”)

 -

Read part 2 here!

-

TAGLIST

@din-damn-djarin​

@phoenixhalliwell​

@legili-mens​

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [52]

vii. gimme shelter

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: a few mentions of blood, fighting, violence, reference to past assualt/Shumway, angst, mentions of death. 

Summary: you arrive on Becca’s Island, and reunions are had, exploring is done. as you and Clarke wind down from your long journey, a break in occurs, creating chaos within the mansion.

a/n: the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 20th, 2150; Becca’s Island

As soon as the boat reaches the shoreline, Roan volunteers to stay behind with Miller and unload the fuel, so that Jackson can lead you to your mother. You and Clarke agree with the plan, looking forward to seeing her for the first time in a few days. Though, with the events of the last few days, it has felt more like lifetimes. Jackson leads you from the shoreline through a densely wooded path, keeping up light conversation the entire time, before ushering the two of you into a lab unlike anything you could ever have imagined. “This is Becca's main research lab, but there are 5 other levels.”

You look around in awe, at the dozens of screens and computers, all types of equipment, chemicals, tubes, and beakers, all brightly lit and situated at the bottom of a flight of stairs. As Jackson leads you to the railing alongside the stairs, giving you a view of everything, your mouth drops open in shock, and Clarke whispers, “Incredible.”

The word carries through the room, reaching a figure who is standing at one of the computer screens, staring at whatever is displayed there. They turn around at the sound of Clarke’s voice, your mother, grinning up at both of you. You and Clarke smile back, and Clarke leads the way down the stairs. Your mom pulls both of you into a hug as soon as you’re close enough. Up above, Jackson makes an excuse about checking on Luna, giving the three of you the privacy to catch up. 

When she pulls away from you, her eyes fall to your shirt first, still covered in Seiku’s blood. You got most of his blood off you with the water from the ocean, but it has stained your shirt, ruining it beyond repair. Her eyes widen in alarm, and you can see her already searching for wounds, but you shake your head. “It’s not mine. It was Seiku’s, one of Roan’s guards who saved both of our lives.”

She sags in relief, before looking between the two of you, a small smile on her face. “Then I’m grateful to him.”

She looks around, realizing that no one else has followed, before asking, “Speaking of, where is Roan?”

“Unloading the fuel with the others.” Clarke looks at your mom, her expression dropping as the weight of the day’s events start to weigh on her. “We just needed to see our mom.”

Your mom pulls you both in for another hug, offering you the kind of comfort that could only ever come from someone who raised you. You smile, drawing in the comfort, until your eyes fall on the screen behind her, the one she was staring at when you came in. It’s a scan of a brain, and you pull away, booking at it in confusion. “What is that?”

Your mom glances back at it, her face falling. “A scan of Raven’s brain. She’s been having seizures, and she just had another one right after she heard the news about the fuel.”

The news tugs at something in your brain, taking you back to Niylah's trading post in the middle of a war with an AI. Sinclair stop, the EMP will give me brain damage! You feel a wave of nausea knowing that you contributed to this. In a misguided attempt to save her, you ruined your friend’s brain, the thing she values the most. Clarke pulls you out of your head when she points at a gray spot on the brain scan, “Is that-”

Your mom cuts her off, “An ischemic stroke.”

Clarke looks slightly hopeful, “Well, that means it can heal, right?”

“Yes, as long as she takes it easy, she'll recover.”

A realization hits you like a freight train. You used the EMP on your mom too. You look at her, eyeing her closely, “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine.”

She smiles and then walks away, but you and Clarke aren't so easily convinced. “When was the last time you slept?”

She doesn't look at Clarke when she answers her question, just peers into a microscope at a sample pressed between the plates. “Oh, I'll sleep soon enough, one way or another.”

“What is that?”

“It's bone marrow. Luna's. A theory that Jackson and I agreed should remain untested.”

You shake your head, not understanding. “What theory?”

“We can't create Nightblood unless we go to space, but Luna can. Theoretically, we can inject ourselves with her bone marrow.”

Just like Mount Weather. You shudder, thinking of the mountain from hell, but no one seems to notice, too wrapped up in the theory. “Then we become Nightbloods. Will it work?”

“I think so.”

Your confusion persists, “Then why'd you take it off the table?”

“Because the only way to know if it works is to test it, and that would mean…”

Clarke answers her first, understanding instantly. “Exposing someone to radiation.”

You think that’s the end of the conversation, but then Clarke adds, “Can we do that here?”

“Yes. Becca was trying to find a cure for cancer using this radiation chamber.” Your mom nods her head at the well lit chamber behind her. “But, we would have to expose a human being to enough radiation that would implode every single cell in their body. That's what's coming for us.”

Clarke nods her head, understanding, but you shake yours, not liking this discussion. Your twin argues, “I know that, but we have no choice.”

Your mom shakes her head, “No, we have to make a choice.”

You nod your head, this time understanding the choice before Clarke does. “Which is: Who do we test?”

The conversation is cut short by Jackson calling out, “Emori, hey.”

You all turn as if you've been caught doing something bad, looking up to the landing of the stairs to see Emori, Murphy's girlfriend, looking down at you. “I'm heading up to the house. Does anyone want anything while I'm up there?”

“No, we're fine, thanks.” But then your mom glances at you and Clarke and calls out, “Emori, hold on.”

She looks at both of you with a smile. “You should both go with her.”

You’re in no position to argue, exhausted from the day, and eager to get out of your bloody shirt. Clarke however, disagrees. “No, we just got here. I want to be here with you and help.”

“There is nothing for you to help me with right now. It'll be 5 hours before the samples are even ready to be tested.” Clarke sighs, knowing she can't argue with that news. “Go, take a shower, and we'll figure this out when you get back.”

She nods and you take her hand, practically dragging her up the stairs, eager to get inside and take a shower. Emori stands at the top, waiting for you, and as she leads you towards the door, Jackson calls out, “I'll lower the drones.”

Emori guides you through the dark woods easily, the path familiar to her, making casual conversation as she goes. “Raven says the black rain will be here soon.”

Clarke swings her flashlight off the path, towards your guide. “Raven's right. I used to love the rain, now it terrifies me.”

“I would have thought nothing terrified you.”

You and Clarke exchange a look, and Clarke asks, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just...hate this island, that's all.”

You nod your head, understanding instantly what that’s like, considering your hatred for Mount Weather. Clarke, who has maintained more radio calls with your mother, continues the conversation. “Murphy said you used to work here. Is that right?”

“Something like that.”

“Scavenging tech for Alie?” Emori turns and gives Clarke a look, who instantly apologizes. “I'm sorry, too many questions.”

“Ignore me.” Emori’s gaze softens as she looks back at the two of you. “I'm just upset that our mission here has failed. Hopefully your mother will come up with another way, always so willing to do anything to save her people. Skaikru's lucky to have her.”

Clarke shakes her head. “We're not just doing this for Skaikru.”

Emori holds out an arm, stopping you from walking any further as you reach the edge of the treeline. She lifts her radio, “We're at the treeline, coming in.”

“Copy that, drones down. You're good to go.”

She leads you through the trees and into a large lawn that stretches out in front of the largest house that you've ever seen in your entire life. Not that you've seen many houses, but it seems larger than any picture of houses that you've looked at before. The lawn eventually reaches a patio, with a large pool, connected to a hot tub. You look at it in awe, marveling at the stone detailing around the edge. The patio is well let, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and marble stairs that lead up towards the back door. The back door itself is glass, along with the whole back window, allowing you a peek into the house. Emori slides the door open, letting the sound of loud music out of the house and to you. You step into a living room, surrounded by white furniture, which opens up right into the large kitchen. Inside the kitchen itself, Murphy dances from one counter to the next, cooking up something to eat. 

You and Clarke exchange amused expressions, and you smile a little, not used to this side of everyone's favorite cockroach. As you get closer, you joke, “You can cook?”

He hums in acknowledgment of your joke, nodding his head as he peers down at a cookbook laid out in front of him. Clarke adopts the same amused tone when she quips, “You can read?”

He looks up from the book, turning to smile at both of you. “Yeah, I know what you're thinking, Disaster Twins. Why are all the good ones taken, right?”

You snort and Clarke scoffs, both of you rolling your eyes at him, and Emori looks at her boyfriend in adoration. “A good randzi is rare. John would be celebrated by any clan.”

It takes you a second to remember that randzi means cook, but when you do, you roll your eyes all over again. “Yeah, he's a real catch.”

Murphy pulls a spoon out and dips it into the dish, holding it out towards you, hand cupped underneath, looking expectant. You eye it warily, a little distrustful, but the smell wafting towards you is good enough to make you want to take a bite. You lean down and take a tentative bite, chewing slowly, waiting for the taste of poison, only to be pleasantly surprised by the explosion of flavors on your tongue. You look at him in awe, “Oh, my God.”

Murphy smiles in an “aha” sort of way, pleased to have gotten that reaction out of you. He turns and tosses the spoon into the sink, and sweeps Emori into his arms, leaning down slightly so she can whisper in his ear. You and Clarke exchange an awkward look, feeling like you're intruding, before she mutters, “We’re gonna go get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, let me show you where to go.” Murphy starts to step away from Emori to lead you there, but she cuts him off, pointing you in the right direction. “Upstairs. Down the hall.”

“Thanks.”

Clarke leads the way around the corner, down the hall to the massive staircase. You and Clarke move through the house with your mouths slightly dropped in awe, and you wish with your entire being that Bellamy was here to experience this with you. When you reach the top of the stairs, Clarke picks two rooms side by side, and you both look at each other for a minute before stepping into your respective rooms. When you flip on the light switch, it automatically activates the stone fireplace lined along the wall, making the room warmer in seconds. You welcome it, allowing it to chase away the chill that always seems to be settled within you. 

In the middle of the room are two armchairs, a table between them, and you drop your pack onto the nearest chair before proceeding deeper into the room. Along the wall on your left are mirrors, and upon closer inspection you realize they have handles, indicating that they're hiding something. You tug on the handles and reveal a huge closet, clothes stretching from either end, stuffed full. When you close the door, smiling in awe, you come face to face with your reflection, and you’re shocked by what you see. 

You didn’t clean Seiku’s blood off you nearly as well as you think you did, and mud and blood are streaked from your forehead down onto the skin that eventually disappears beneath your clothes. You're sure that if you were standing here naked, the grime would cover you from head to foot. There’s a variety of things caked into your hair, making you look wild and untamed. Blood covers almost every inch of your shirt that isn't hidden beneath your jacket, and you can now see why everyone was looking at you in alarm. There’s a small nick on your neck, situated just above the chain of your necklace, from Echo threatening you, along with a bruise on your cheek from the man that helped her take you captive. 

You turn away from the mirror, no longer wanting to see yourself, ignoring the rest of the room as you make a beeline for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. As soon as you're inside, you stand and stare at the shower in shock, the shower itself nearly as big as the entire room you share with Bellamy, and you get another wave of regret that he's not here to see this. You dig around in the cabinets, looking for a towel, and as you do, you discover something rare and precious: bath products. Soap in the Ark is made from mostly recycled materials, and doesn't have a particularly nice smell. It doesn’t stink by any means, but it also doesn't smell like...you hold up the bottle in your hand, peering at the label on the body wash, before reading out loud, “Tropical sunset delight.”

The shampoo and conditioner you find are both labeled coconut hazelnut dream, and the lotion is called creamy vanilla surprise. You smile as you hoard all the products, bringing them into the shower with you, along with a brush. It takes a second for you to figure out the controls of the shower, as it's entirely technology based, but as soon as you do, hot water shoots out from at least four different locations. You turn the water as hot as it can go, the water at Arkadia never anything better than lukewarm. You take your time, using several handfuls of the body wash and several techniques to scrub your skin until it is practically raw. Once you're sure all the mud and blood is gone, you get started on your hair. It takes a while for you to work out the knots and debris tangled within your strands, but you finally do, marveling at the soft feel of it as you wash the conditioner out. 

After your shower, you dry off and moisturize, before pulling on your pants and grabbing the rest of your clothes and boots. You fold your shirt and socks and stuff them into your pack, before grabbing a couple of shirts you can layer and wear as your new shirt. You also find a sock drawer, overflowing with options, and you pick one pair to wear daily, along with a thick pair you can wear on cold nights. Then you turn, surveying the room again, eyes landing on the bed in the middle of the room. You walk over to it and press a tentative hand into the mattress, marveling at the plush softness that envelops you. 

You smile and climb into the bed, fully intending to sleep for at least a few hours. But as soon as you’re in bed and comfortable, you are annoyed to find that you just can't sleep. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to figure out why sleep evades you, when you suddenly make the connection. You’re alone. You've shared a bed with Bellamy the last few months, and sleeping alone is now so foreign to you that you’re struggling to do it without him by your side. With a sigh you pull yourself out of the bed and into the hall, heading straight for Clarke's room. She looks up at you right as you lift your hand to knock, already motioning you inside before you can even ask to come in. 

She's already in the bed, also freshly showered, but appearing to struggle with sleep, the same as you. You both sense the restlessness in each other, and she pats the bed, motioning for you to crawl in beside her. You do, turning to face her as soon as you’re comfortable, smiling at the pretty face of your twin. She smiles back at you, and you both lay in silence for a minute or two, until Clarke whispers, “Do you think I’m a good leader?”

You think of the memory you dreamed about last night, and you ask, “Do you remember when you convinced me to take your place so that I could see the Ark?”

“Yeah, and you only lasted three minutes before mom caught on?”

You mock glare at her, but confirm, “Yes.”

You pause for a minute, letting her relive the memory, before you add, “I’ve been following you my entire life. You’re a natural born leader, inherited from both of our parents, making you a hybrid, amplified leader. You’re strong, and you care about others, which I’ve known since you were willing to give up a field trip just so I could see the Ark.”

“But you’re my twin.”

“Pulling a lever to save our people. Three times. Continuously sacrificing yourself to save others, making the hard decisions when others don't want to, but also continuing to stay in touch with your empathetic side. You're a great leader, Clarke.”

She sighs and nods, accepting the compliments with thanks, and you start to read the undertone in her statement. As you watch your twin, her mind running though a million things at once, you realize that the real question is: when can someone else lead in my place? Clarke has led all of you from the moment she landed on the ground, but realistically, she was leading even before that, back when the two of you were kids. She led groups in school, tried to lead with your dad when he wanted to go public with the news of the dying Ark, led the delinquents the second you landed on the ground. She led Camp Jaha as the adults fought over who was in charge, and led an army of Grounders with Lexa. She led behind the scenes while Pike thought he was in charge, led the mission to find Luna, and the mission to kill Alie and the City of Light. She led Arkadia while your mom and Kane stayed behind, and the more you think of it, the more you think that her only break may have been the three months she spent on her own. But even then, she was burdened by the consequences of leadership. 

Clarke Griffin, Wanheda, your starry twin, is tired. Exhausted. It’s written in the lines of her face, the sag of her shoulders, the bags under her eyes. And though you know you’ll never be able to stop her from being a leader, you vow to take more of the burden off her shoulders from here on out. 

Clarke yawns, confirming your suspicions, and you smile at her. “Get some sleep.”

She nods, and closes her eyes, and you watch her for a second as the stress starts to melt off of her, second by second. Satisfied that she's actually going to sleep, you close your eyes and follow suit, only for your eyes to fly open at the sound of clattering down the hall. The sound wakes Clarke too, both of you exchanging an annoyed look before getting out of bed. On the way to the door, your twin grabs her pistol from her pack, and you glare at her. “Where was that when Roan's guards tried to kill us?”

She shrugs, looking a little apologetic. “In my pack. In the rover.”

You give her an annoyed look, before following her down the hall as she creeps towards the sound. As it grows louder, she calls out, “Murphy? Murphy, is that you?”

The sound grows louder as you approach a door at the end of the hall, and you put your hand on Clarke's shoulder, letting her know you're still with her, as you follow her into the room. She flips on the light, revealing blinds on the other end of the room, that seem to move everytime the wind blows. You and Clarke move closer, and when you lift the blinds up, you see a hole in the window, red blood smeared around the edges, indicating someone smashed their way through and let themselves in. You hear a small sound behind you, and you and Clarke spin quickly, her gun lifted and ready to shoot.

Murphy stands in the doorway, and at the sight of the weapon, he lifts his hands in surrender, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, take it easy! Look, we need to talk.”

Clarke shushes him, “Quiet. There's someone here.”

He looks at both of you in alarm, and Clarke opens her mouth to relay a plan, but she is cut off by the sound of Emori yelling from downstairs, “John! John! John!”

Murphy rushes out of the room first, and you and Clarke scramble behind him, following him closely as he practically flies down the stairs and around the corner into the kitchen. There a man stands, trying to plunge a kitchen knife into Emori's neck, who is using every bit of strength she has to keep him from killing her. Murphy grabs the nearest weapon he can find, a cutting board, and whacks the man across the face, knocking him away from his girlfriend. Emori scrambles backwards on the floor towards you, and Clarke reaches out for her, “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

But Emori ignores the question, her eyes focused only on Murphy as he goes to deliver a killing blow, “Wait! He's mine.”

Emori tries to run at the man and attack him, but Murphy holds her back, despite her struggles. “Get off of me! If we don't kill him now, he will kill us.”

You give her a confused look. “You know him?”

Emori practically spits out the name, “Baylis.”

The name must mean something to Murphy, or he must know Emori’s story, because he stills, no longer holding her back as much as he was before. The man on the ground, Baylis, looks at Emori with a sneer. “She's lying, you don't know me.”

Emori tries to leap at the man again, and Murphy does his best to hold her back as she yells, “You said you'd kill me! Well, guess what, planhaka, I'm gonna kill you.”

Baylis tries to stand, but Clarke lifts her gun towards him. “Hey, hey, hey, don't move.”

“Just let me go. I'll leave the food, and you never have to see me again.”

You turn to Emori, “Is he alone?”

“Not usually. Where are the others?” 

Murphy releases her, allowing her to walk closer to the man, glaring down at him as he replies, “I don't know who the hell you think-”

She cuts him off with a swift kick to the head, knocking him out, and as his body hits the ground, she continues to kick him. Clarke, growing anxious, yells out, “Emori!”

She spins around, blood dripping from a cut on her head, running into her mouth and covering her teeth. She gives your twin a bloody sneer. “You don't know what he did to me.”

“No, and you can tell me about it, but please, Emori, if he's not alone, we need to know now.” Clarke turns to Murphy, passing him her gun, “Here, Murphy, take my gun. Now tie him up.”

She looks at you, silently asking if you’ll stay with Murphy and the prisoner, and you nod in agreement. Her eyes move back to the injured woman, “There's a medicine cabinet upstairs, can I fix this?”

Emori hesitates, looking back at the knocked out man on the floor, but Clarke reassures her, “They won't let him go anywhere. Will you?”

Murphy shakes his head as he walks by them, moving to the appliances to yank out their cords for binds. “Not a chance, we're gonna have some fun.”

“Fine, tie him up. But when he's done talking, the kill is mine.”

Murphy tosses you one of the cords, and you help him tie the man's hands and feet together, restraining him. And then Murphy drags over a chair, and the two of you lift the man's unconscious body into it before using more cords to secure him to the chair. Once you're done, you move away from the man, hopping up onto the counter to watch from there. Murphy circles him like a hawk, waiting for him to wake up, and finally Baylis groans, indicating that he’s coming to. It takes him a few seconds to gather his bearings and remember where he is, but as soon as he does, he starts to wiggle in the chair, trying to loosen his restraints. He does that for a few minutes, unsuccessfully, and when he realizes your bonds are too strong, he resorts to begging. “I only came here for the food, things I can trade. I scavenge so my family can eat. Please.”

Murphy laughs, not buying it. “That's it, find the right angle. I'll help you out. I love someone who was beaten and tortured by a man who thought he could control her.” 

Your eyes widen, understanding that he means Emori. You feel a rush of hatred for the man and what he did to her, reminding you of what Shumway did to you.

“I'm not that man. You can torture me all you want, and that won't change the fact-”

He is once again cut off by a blow from Emori, who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, now cleaned and stitched up. “For my brother.”

She hits him again, “For me!”

She lifts her hand again ready for another blow, but Clarke yells out, “Wait.”

Emori spins towards her, looking absolutely livid. “What?”

“You'll kill him.”

“That's the idea.”

Murphy steps up in defense of his girlfriend. “Why don't you stay out of it and let her have this, Clarke?”

Clarke turns to look at you, her expression serious, before she turns back to Emori. “What if his death could save us all?”

Emori freezes, immediately looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“Without a way to go to space to make Nightblood, there's a chance we could make it out of Luna’s bone marrow. But the only way we’d know if it worked, is if we exposed him to the same amount of radiation that the death wave will bring. If he lives, and we know it worked, you can still have the final kill.”

“And if it fails?”

“He’ll die from radiation.”

Emori seems to consider this, looking to Murphy for guidance, who gives her a slight nod. Emori turns back to Clarke, giving her stamp of approval. “Looks like you got yourself a test subject.”

-

With Emori’s agreement to Clarke’s suggestion, she radioes over to the lab and shares the message. A few minutes later, Miller and Roan come to the house for Baylis, knocking him out to make the transport easier. You all follow them back to the lab, watching on as your mother starts to prepare him for experimentation. When she sees Baylis brought in, you see a flash of opposition cross her face, before she seems to quickly tuck it away in favor of a more neutral expression. When she sees you walk in, she nods towards the glass office on the second floor. “Kane is on the radio and he’s asking for you.”

Your brows pull together, wondering why, but you don't ask, just head up the stairs and into the office, plopping down at the desk and reaching for the radio. “Kane, do you read me?”

Kane’s voice comes through a second later, sounding tired. “I read you.”

“My mom said you asked for me?”

“The black rain's here, and it's worse than we thought. It burns on contact...it kills.” You hear him sigh, before continuing, “We were outside when it started, had teams outside the wall scavenging for supplies. Some got stuck, straight out in the open, no cover, no help. Two of them, Mark and his son Peter, asked to be rescued. Bellamy went after them in a broken suit, tried to get to them, but failed. The rover got stuck, and with the bad suit, he has no way to get the rover free again. He’s taking it pretty hard, and I tried to help, but I think I just made things worse. I was hoping you’d talk to him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course. What channel?”

“Four.”

“Copy that. Switching over.”

You fiddle with the radio, switching it to channel four, before asking, “Bellamy? Are you there, can you hear me?”

His voice comes through a second later, whispering your name, his tone a cross between relief and sadness. “Did Kane call you? Because I’m fine.”

But you can hear the emotion in his voice as he tries to convince you, unsuccessfully, that he’s fine. You push past his insistence and ask, “What happened, Bellamy?”

The radio clicks on, and you hear the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the rover, followed by the rumble of thunder. And underneath all that, you hear a quiet sob, choked and broken. “Do you remember Peter? He was part of the 100.”

“I think you were closer to him than I was, but yes I remember him.”

“Him and his dad got caught in the black rain. It’s coming down pretty hard, and it burns the second it touches your skin. They went for shelter the best they could, but it wasn't much. I grabbed a suit and tried to get to them, but the suit was damaged in the fire, cracked in a million different places. It was useless. Then the rover got stuck along the way, and without the suit, I won't survive the trip outside to get it unstuck.”

He takes in a shaky breath, and you know the next part is going to be hard to hear. “When I radioed Mark to tell him I couldn't make it, he lost it. Reminding me that I promised I’d come save them, and now I’m going back on that and killing them both. He stayed on the radio for a long time, and I could…”

Another sob breaks free from his chest, and tears spring to your eyes, hating how broken he sounds. You wish you were there with him, wrapping your arms around him, comforting him the way he comforted you. “I could hear them dying. The radio must have cut out after that, or he was too weak to press the button, because it’s been silent ever since.”

“Bellamy, I know you’re hurting, but this isn't your fault.”

“Mark’s right. I made them a promise and I went back on that. It’s my fault they're dead, because I failed to save them.”

“You didn't know the black rain was coming. You can't control the suit being broken or the rover getting stuck. This is not your fault.”

“Octavia left, did Kane tell you that?”

“No, he didn’t.”

He sighs, and you can hear another rumble of thunder in the background. “She was gone before I even made it back. My sister, my responsibility, and I failed to protect her too. I always fail. I’ve failed you, my sister, our people. I can't save anyone.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? And what about all of the delinquents you saved before the Ark came down? What about our friends in Mount Weather? Clarke in Polis? You protected her so she could shut down the City of Light, which saved all of us from Alie. She couldn't have done that without your protection.”

He’s quiet, considering your words, and you add, “I know that every life we fail to save hurts us more than some of the lives we’ve taken. You’ve made mistakes, Bellamy, but this isn't one of them. You did everything you could to save Mark and Peter, and sometimes that’s all we can do, because these things lie in the lap of the gods. We can be prepared for every outcome, every scenario, and still fail. Learn from this, save who you can save today, but don't let this tear you apart. I still need you, and so does Octavia, Kane, our people. This fight isn't over yet.”

You can tell he takes your words to heart, as his sobs finally start to quiet. He’s silent for a few moments before he whispers, “I wish you were here with me.”

“I wish I was too.”

“Tell me about the stars, please.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and you think of which constellation to share with him today. “There’s a constellation in the sky called Lyra, the lyre. The lyre belonged to Orpheus, who played music so beautiful that the animals would listen, and people would stop whatever they were doing just to hear him play. He played most of these songs for his wife, Eurydice, whom he loved very much. One day, Eurydice died suddenly, and it broke Orpheus’ heart. He was determined to win her back from Hades, unable to live life without his love, and he set out on a journey to the Underworld. On his way down, he played his harp, and when he reached Hades he found that the god greatly enjoyed his music. Orpheus stopped playing, and Hades asked him to continue. Orpheus agreed on the condition that when he stopped playing for good, his wife would be returned to him. Hades accepted this condition, and Orpheus began to play again. When he was done, Hades informed Orpheus that he too had a condition, which is that Orpheus must leave the Underworld playing his harp, and he must trust that Hades has honored their agreement. Orpheus is not to turn around or look back to see if Eurydice is following. If he doubted and looked back, Eurydice would be taken back to the Underworld. Orpheus agreed to the conditions and played his music as he left, pleased that he could hear Eurydice’s footsteps behind him the entire time. Until Hades tried to test the young lover. He guided their return to the surface through a pine grove, which silenced Eurydice's footsteps. Orpheus endured the quiet as long as he could, until he no longer believed his wife was with him, and turned to look back, just in time to see her fade away. Orpheus returned to the surface alone and brokenhearted, and when he eventually died, Zeus put his lyre in the sky to commemorate their love.”

“I would go to the underworld to save you.”

You smile, knowing that he means it. Bellamy has already proven to you time and time again that he’s willing to go through hell just to save you. Your answer to him serves as a double meaning, one you hope he’ll take to heart. “Just as long as you don't look back.”

-

next chapter

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.X.ii

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

Week three of posting my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the wonderful @gen-syz-art as my artist 💕

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Usually, he never stays in Novigrad longer than ten days. 

It’s rounding up to three weeks when he runs into Eskel in The Golden Sturgeon. It’s unexpected, since Eskel hates Novigrad even more than Geralt, but much needed. 

The other Wolf takes one look at him and instantly knows something is wrong. 

“Another dickhead that refused to pay?” he guesses when Geralt slides onto a bench opposite of him after they embrace. 

Geralt shakes his head, intent on keeping his eyes on the tankard that a barmaid sets in front of him. He knows that he can tell Eskel everything, and he will listen but telling someone means admitting it, and that is not something that Geralt is quite ready to do. 

Eskel hums, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“Couldn’t save someone from a monster?” he tries again. 

Well, Geralt thinks, That’s one way to put it. But still, he shakes his head. 

“It’s nothing,” he says.

Eskel gives him a look that tells Geralt he’s not buying into it. It’s only fair, he assumes. They’ve known each other for so many years that Eskel can see right through him.

It doesn’t take long for Geralt to break. 

“Have you ever broken someone's heart?” he asks without raising his head. 

Eskel goes quiet for a moment, considering it. He’d always been the rational one among the younger Wolves, level-headed and calm, so Geralt knows his answer even before it’s spoken. 

“Not that I know of,” Eskel says, growing tired of Geralt not looking at him and kicking him under the table for him to raise his head. “Why, have you?”

Geralt shrugs with one shoulder, trying not to think back on that morning. He’s been doing so good, pretending like it doesn’t hurt.

Eskel gives him time, doesn’t press it, but he doesn’t have to wait long. Geralt takes in a deep breath, letting his walls down. 

“I’ve met someone, at the beginning of summer,” he says. “It was late, and Roach was too tired to get back to the town that I got the contract from, so when I came across the mansion, I stopped to ask for food and water for her.”

He tells Eskel about that night, about how Jaskier - Julian, back then - wasn’t afraid of him even though he knew who Geralt was, how he insisted on helping him with the wounds on his shoulder. Tells him about how Jaskier had convinced him to stay for the night, how he talked to him like they were equals, despite Geralt being a witcher, and him living in a mansion the size of a castle. 

Eskel listens, humming and nodding from time to time, but doesn’t interrupt, just letting Geralt talk.

It feels like once he’d started, he cannot stop anymore, so Geralt tells him about the first time that he’d returned to the mansion. How he saw those collars at a market stall and they seemed like the perfect way to thank Jaskier for his kindness, even though Geralt knew that it’s just an excuse. 

Eskel makes some kind of a sound at that, and Geralt rolls his eyes but goes on. 

He skips over the details of Jaskier’s little games, unwilling to admit to anyone other than himself just how powerless he was against them, how he couldn’t do anything but play along, letting Jaskier torture him with all of those words and half-kisses. 

Talking about their last week together, however, proves to be much harder than Geralt had expected.

“We got… close,” he says in the end, taking a swig of his ale and wincing at the amount of water in it. “Not physically or, well-- not that physically but we got close. He would spend half of the day in my arms in the library or in bed, and then take me stargazing when the sun set.”

“I thought you’ve never been into that kind of thing?” Eskel asks, cocking a brow at him.

Geralt shrugs with one shoulder, avoiding eye contact. 

“It was different with him. I used to think that it’s stupid and pretentious but with him, it felt like-- like I was where I am supposed to be. Except it’s fucking not.”

“It’s not?”

Even with his eyes fixed on the table, Geralt can feel Eskel’s gaze on him, waiting. Maybe telling him was a mistake overall and Geralt should’ve just kept everything to himself but now it’s too late for that. Eskel will not leave him alone until he hears everything. 

“I’m a witcher, Eskel,” Geralt snaps, lifting his head to meet his eyes. “And he’s a fucking Redanian prince, I don’t give a shit about legitimacy. I’m not fifteen anymore to believe in fairytales, and I don’t read those novels that you can buy at the market after all the other stalls close. There is no place for me in his life.”

Eskel gives him an unimpressed look.

“And have you asked him about it?”

“About what?”

“About whether or not there’s a place for you in his life.”

Geralt knows that he’s right. But that doesn’t mean that a fire of powerless anger doesn’t flare up in his chest. 

“You haven’t seen that mansion, Eskel,” he snarls, gripping the tankard tighter. “It’s half the size of Kaer Morhen. People like us don’t get to live in places like that, you know that as well as I do. We don’t get to sleep in canopy beds with silk sheets and with a prince by our side.”

Eskel remains unfazed by Geralt’s irritation, too used to him to really react. 

“You don’t even know if he really is a prince,” he points out.

It’s true, Geralt doesn’t. He never got the courage to ask, and Jaskier never said anything specific enough to make it clear but Geralt still couldn’t quite shake the feeling like the rumours he’d heard have a base to them. 

“Even if he isn’t,” he says, finally. “I still can't have him. And after what I’ve done, he won’t have me back, either.”

Eskel takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and then exhaling just as slow. He reaches over the table, putting his hand on Geralt’s forearm to get his attention.

“Listen, Wolf,” he says, softer this time. “I know that it’s never easy for you to accept good things. I know that you think that if you’ve got golden eyes and two swords behind your back, it means that the only thing you have is the Path, but it’s not. I mean, fuck, look at Lambert. You know what an asshole he usually is, but then he met his Cat and it’s like he’s a whole new man.”

Lambert’s Cat… Aiden. 

Aiden. 

That’s where Geralt knows that name from. 

Geralt barks a laugh, unable to believe just how fucking small the world is. 

“Aiden is also a witcher,” he says, but the anger has already drained out of his voice. 

“He is,” Eskel agrees. “But that’s not really the point, is it? For years Lambert had his “I’m better off alone” attitude, and then he ran into Aiden and learned to smile, Geralt. Have you ever seen him smile before? You weren’t home this winter but he brought Aiden with him and I had to spend three months watching them make heart-eyes at each other. It was disgusting.”

Geralt wants to stay angry at him, he really does, but he cannot help a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“And now you want me to do the same? Lambert is not enough for you?”

Eskel laughs, giving his arm a pat before letting go. 

“I want you to be happy, Geralt,” he says. “But that requires you not being a fucking idiot anymore. You need to go back.”

Geralt can feel his shoulders tensing up. 

“I can’t go back. He won’t have me.”

“Fucking gods, Geralt,” Eskel hisses, throwing his arms up in frustration. “Have you not heard anything I’ve said? You need to stop making decisions for him. You’ve already done that enough times and it’s led you here.”

Before Geralt can protest, he goes on:

“You’ve got a broken heart because you always assume the worst, Geralt. And if that’s not enough, your prince has a broken heart, too. Just because you’re too scared to try.”

Geralt averts his eyes, unable to handle Eskel being so annoyingly right. The knife in his chest twists mercilessly, and he’s almost sure that if he wasn’t restrained by his armour, he would’ve bled out onto the table and the tavern floor. 

But Eskel is still right. 

“I’ve known you my entire life, Geralt,” he says softly. “And I’ve never seen you be in love before. Don’t fuck it up.”

Geralt’s head snaps up at that, eyes widening slightly. His heart suddenly loses its rhythm. 

“You do know that you’re in love with him, don’t you?” Eskel asks, noticing the hesitation. 

Eskel doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Geralt can’t be in love with the bard. He would’ve known if he was. He would’ve known.

Except that Eskel is right when he says that Geralt’s never been in love before. So he doesn’t have anything to compare these feelings to, nothing to base his judgement upon aside from his beliefs regarding what he is and isn’t able to feel. 

Geralt averts his eyes again, thinking about that fire in his chest that burns relentlessly and keeps flaring up whenever Jaskier reaches out to touch him. He thinks about the way his heart beats faster when they’re too close, and about the way his cheeks heat up uncontrollably in response to Jaskier’s little provocations. 

He thinks about how peaceful the bard can make him feel when Geralt holds him in his arms, about the way he makes him feel like he belongs. 

Thinks about the sharp bites of pain that he feels whenever he thinks about Jaskier with someone else, that he now finally recognises as jealousy. 

“What do I do with this?” Geralt whispers, more to himself than to Eskel, head in his hands. 

His heart is beating faster and harder than it should, almost painfully, and that knife in his chest seems to twist with every beat. 

“Geralt,” Eskel calls, reaching out to touch Geralt’s forearm again. “You need to go back. He will have you.”

“He was so angry when I told him I’m leaving,” Geralt sighs, downing the rest of his ale. “Didn’t even let me touch him one last time. He told me to leave, Eskel. He doesn’t want me back.”

Eskel rolls his eyes but there’s no anger behind it. 

“He was angry because you’re a dickhead, Geralt,” he says, ignoring the glare that he gets in response. “You left with no warning, no real reason. You made him feel like you two can actually be something, and then just left him, saying that he should forget you. You broke his heart.”

It hurts so much worse to hear someone else say it. Almost like it wasn’t really true when it was just in Geralt’s mind. 

“And after all that, he will still want me back? Listen to yourself, Eskel,” he says bitterly. 

The other witcher sighs, clearly determined to get through to Geralt, even if he’s being his usual stubborn self. 

It’s always been like that between them, even when they were kids. After the second round of Trials that turned Geralt’s hair white, it was always Eskel that was there for him, assuring Geralt that silver suits him. And though Geralt never really believed him, it was easier to accept the change that way. 

“Geralt,” Eskel says, gripping his arm a little tighter. “He would not have been angry if he didn’t care. I don’t know what exactly happened between you two, but from what you’ve told me, he clearly wants you there with him. If he just wanted to fuck you, he would’ve done so already and let you go without anger or tears. It’s more than that.”

The pain stops for a moment, giving way to a flicker of hope. Maybe, Eskel really is right about all this. Maybe Geralt can still fix it, can still go back. 

“What do you know?” he scoffs instead, but there’s no bite to the words. “You’re not even interested in anything like that.”

Eskel shrugs indifferently. 

“That’s exactly what allows me to keep my judgement clear.”

Geralt desperately wants him to be right. 

He wants to find a place for this feeling in his chest, that only seems to grow now that someone else has acknowledged it, put a name on it. He wants to go back to the mansion and apologise for being such a fucking fool, and then hold Jaskier in his arms until both their hearts heal. 

And if Jaskier will tell him to leave again, if he won’t forgive him, at least Geralt will apologise for the hurt he’d caused because of his own fear of growing attached.

“The weather is starting to get cold,” Eskel points out. “It’s going to start snowing soon. I say you turn back towards Gelibol tomorrow morning, and spend the winter in the mansion. It’s certainly better than freezing your ass off in Kaer Morhen, seeing that you can find a better use for it.”

Geralt shoves him in the shoulder but laughs.

“If he won’t have me, you’re the one I’m getting drunk with,” he warns but he’s already defeated. “And then you’re gonna wish you never talked me into this.”

Eskel grins, letting go of Geralt’s arm and reaching for his tankard, downing the rest of his drink. 

“Deal.”

[i-legit-dont-know-what-im-doing]

I was looking at your Ducktales AU and I noticed how made Lena and Dewy friends and it's cool. You say Dewy fought in the Shadow War, how did that go? Does Dewy leave Scrooge after he found out of Incident or no? Also how does he react to Lena being niece of Magica? Do things like Jaw$ or Other Bin happen or no? Sorry for the loaded question. If already have answers to these questions sorry for asking. I really like you AU and keep the great work. Have a great day/evening. :)

No need to apologize for all the questions, I love answering them and I’m glad you like my AU! Unfortunately though I’m not gonna be able to answer all your questions right now as it’s been a hot minute since I last saw Jaw$ and Other Bin so I can’t say for sure how exactly they would go if they were to happen, but I can say that there’s a fairly good chance that I’ll find a way to work them in and I’ll reblog this with explanations when I get the chance to rewatch those episodes (although that might not be for a while as I want to get through the Webby Introduction episodes ASAP). But I can do at least Part 1 of The Shadow War right now seeing as it’s a plot-important episode and is on my list of episodes I want to do (If anyone wants to see the list them lmk). And the answer to your question about if Dewey leaves Scrooge after he finds out about the Spear is right here!

So, here’s The Shadow War Part 1: The Night of De Spell!:

It starts with Dewey trying to carry a box to the houseboat.

Donald tries to make the best of things and get Dewey excited to be on the boat, but Dewey is still upset about everyone lying to him for his entire life and just wants to be away from Scrooge.

Meanwhile, Magica has now taken control over Lena, mostly, and is making her way to the mansion to confront Scrooge.

Lena tries to stop Magica but she isn’t strong enough yet.

Magica tries to convince Scrooge that she’s Lena and that Dewey invited her over.

When Scrooge says that Dewey left Magica says that Dewey said that Scrooge would have an old-man meltdown because everyone left and Scrooge opens the gates.

He opens the door and Magica is rather surprised to see the state he’s in.

Back with the others, Dewey tells Launchpad that he’s throwing away the box with all the memento’s of his adventures with Scrooge.

Part of Dewey feels bad for abandoning his Uncle but he doesn’t want to relent just yet.

Donald announces that they’re moving to Cape Suzette and Dewey doesn’t feel quite as excited as he thought he would.

Magica is very confused with the mess she finds in McDuck Manor, soda cans, pizza boxes, dirty socks.

Lena tries to warn Scrooge but Magica stops her and insists that this must be a trick to fool her.

Dewey decides that he just hasn’t embraced his new boat-life enough and finds one of Donald’s old hats to wear with the whole sailor outfit from canon.

Magica poisons some tea for Scrooge, but when she tries to give it to him he just sets it down and ignores it.

He accidentally ends up knocking the tea over and he complains about how horrible family is.

Beakley and Launchpad set out a going-away-party for Donald and Dewey.

Magica tries giving Scrooge more tea, in a sippy cup, but he just spills it again.

She finally realizes that Scrooge isn’t acting and tries to get him over it so that she can enact her plan just the way she’s been envisioning for 15 years.

It starts working and Scrooge decides that he can start from scratch but starts to get suspicious of Lena/Magica when she tries to get Scrooge to give her his #1 dime.

Magica attacks him as the full eclipse grows near.

She grabs the dime and is finally able to separate herself from both Lena and the dime.

Magica takes Lena’s amulet and turns it into her staff.

Lena tells Magica to leave them alone but she traps them both in a magical gave.

As Mrs. Beakley serves some pie she stops and apologizes, saying that it was Scrooges favorite dessert and she knows that Dewey doesn’t want to be thinking about “that horrid man who lost his mother, brothers, and cousins all those years ago even if it was an accident that tore him up for ten years, propelling him into a desperate search attempt that left him broken and nearly bankrupt.”

Beakley uses pretty much the same guilt trip she does in canon and Dewey tries to ignore it because he wants to be angry right now but he just can’t.

Scrooge tries to escape and asks Lena how she could betray them like this.

Lena defends herself by saying that Magica’s her aunt and made her do it.

When Scrooge claims that family’s good for nothing Lena says that his family is amazing and she’d give anything to have one like it.

Scrooge tells her that if she helps him get his family back she can have a place in it.

But before they get the chance to do anything Magica breaks the cage and send Lena back to the Shadow Realm and traps Scrooge in his dime.

After a bit of thinking Donald agrees with Beakley and tells Dewey that Scrooge needs them just as much as they need him and none of them can stand to lose anyone else right now.

Dewey hugs his uncle and asks to go back to the mansion when the ground shakes and they run outside to find Magica in the sky surrounded by magic.

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